by Lisa Kessler
Something shone in the shadowy depths of his eyes that contradicted his words. Hope.
“Neither will I.” Heather didn’t know how the figurehead took hold of her sister, but she wasn’t going to let it possess her without a fight.
…
Drake pulled up at his house and jumped out of the truck, jogging toward his dock on the river. Colton and Skye were already waiting by his MAKO 214 fishing boat. If his hunch was right, Skye could be the only way he could find Heather and Ashley in time.
Bale said Ashley was somehow the figurehead, and she needed Heather alive, so it didn’t take a detective to connect the dots. Ashley must’ve found a way to transfer the figurehead’s curse to her twin. If she called on the spirits and dumped Heather into the ocean… Fuck, he couldn’t even think about it. The magic root in his pocket would be useless if Heather was at the bottom of the Atlantic.
“I gassed the engine and we’ve got an extra can if we need it.” Colton held up the red plastic container and tipped his head toward his wife. “Skye’s got her crystal ball.”
As the Sea Dog crew grew to include three females, they each added new skills to the crew. Char and Skye were both psychics with exceptional abilities, and Harmony had hacking skills Drake didn’t understand well enough to explain. Skye’s psychic gift was not only her intuition, but her second sight. Her visions sometimes offered a glimpse of the future, or as Drake was depending on, remote locations.
“Let’s do this.” Drake unfastened the line from the dock and tossed the knot into the boat before climbing in. The engine roared to life, and he opened the throttle. The bow lifted as they gained speed, heading for the open ocean.
“I’m coming, love,” Drake whispered under his breath. “You stay alive for me.”
Skye sat closer to the bow, her eyes closed. Apparently she’d be using her third eye for this rescue mission. Instead of trying to scream over the outboard motor, Skye pointed her changes in direction. Every tiny movement gave Drake hope. As long as Skye could sense her, Heather must still be alive.
Colton stood beside Drake at the helm, watching the horizon. “Your hand is injured.”
“Aye.” Drake nodded. “Ashley stabbed me before she kidnapped her sister.”
“And you haven’t healed?” Colton turned to face him. “What’s going on, mate?”
“I’m fine. I just need to find Heather.”
“Bullshit. You’re not fine.” Colton’s eyes narrowed. “Your eyes are bloodshot. You’re pale, and you’re not healing. How is that possible?”
Drake cut his gaze to his quartermaster. “Heather won’t drink from the cup. I needed a fallback plan in case I don’t get to her in time.”
Colton’s brow furrowed. “What did you do?”
Skye’s eyes snapped open as she stood straight up. “Slow down!”
Drake eased back the throttle. The bow of the boat gradually lowered until it glided through the water. Searching the horizon, Drake frowned. “I don’t see them.”
“We’re close.” Skye turned, looking out at the water. “We need to slow down. Something is…”
Her words faded away as she covered her ears and screamed. Colton grunted, losing his footing. “The banshee… Can’t… Fuck.” The quartermaster dropped to his knees.
Drake gunned the motor. If Colton and Skye could hear it, then Heather must be suffering right now, too. He instinctively brushed the knife handle at his belt. Ashley didn’t have an item from him, so for now, he was immune to her attack. She still had Heather’s ring and the Sea Dog’s flag.
Skye writhed on the floor of the boat, unable to guide him. Drake didn’t slow the boat. If he found Heather and Ashley, he could stop the attack. It was the only way to help Colton and Skye. He kept his gaze glued to the horizon, searching for any other vessels. His cell buzzed in his pocket, interfering with his internal panic.
Bale’s name lit the screen. “Yeah?” Drake bellowed over the motor.
“Where are you?”
“Atlantic. Ashley’s got Heather out here someplace.”
“Do you have GPS navigation on board?”
Drake glanced down at his console. “Aye.”
“Good. Kingsley’s been searching the satellite images, and we may have found something. I’m texting you the coordinates now.”
“All right.”
“I’m waiting on a helicopter pilot. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Aye.” Drake ended the call and clicked his messages. He slowed the boat long enough to enter the coordinates. The digital compass pointed him to the northwest.
She was less than five nautical miles away.
“We’re close,” Drake said to Skye and Colton who were holding onto each other as they endured the banshee scream.
Drake pulled back the throttle and followed the coordinates. “Fight, love. I’m almost there.”
…
Heather’s head throbbed. She ground her teeth, her vision clouded by the constant stream of tears as her father’s ghost encouraged her to throw herself overboard, telling her she deserved to die, and then in turn promising her they could be together forever.
Lies. It was all lies. She had to make it stop.
Drake’s nephew crawled into the boat, his dark-rimmed eyes full of fear. “Uncle Drake doesn’t love you,” Thomas said. “He left me to drown, just like he’s leaving you. We’re both going to die at the bottom of sea.”
“I’m not dying today.” Heather grunted, wrenching one hand free from the duct tape.
Her shoulders ached as she reached up to cover her ears. Nothing silenced the banshee’s wail. She lowered her hands, waiting to see if her sister noticed she was free.
Ashley’s inhuman red eyes never blinked; her mouth in a perpetual O shape made her seem more statue than human. A figurehead.
“Uncle Drake isn’t coming,” Thomas whispered. “He doesn’t know what love is.”
“Not…true.” Heather shifted from her sitting position onto her knees, trying not to rock the boat. She had no idea what would wake her sister from her trance.
“He’s abandoned you.” Her father hissed, mouth tight, forcing the words from his lips. “He never told you he loved you. You’re in so much pain. Just let go. Join me.”
Lies. All of it. Her father, Thomas, and countless other lost souls that her sister had called up shouted at her. The louder they grew, the more vividly she saw Drake’s smile. Memories of dancing with him in her attic flooded her mind. The way he’d stood by her, even after overhearing her tell One-Eyed Bob her decision to end their relationship, had everything to do with love; honest, unconditional love. He didn’t need to say the words. He proved his love. It was real.
And damn it, she was going to live long enough to tell him she loved him, too.
Heather scrambled forward, racing toward her sister. Ashley blinked, her mouth snapping shut as Heather knocked her back against the idling motor of the boat.
“You bitch!” Ashley shrieked, gripping Heather’s sore shoulders. “Why do you have to make this difficult?”
“I’m not dying for you!” Heather slapped her sister’s face.
Time stopped for a moment as Ashley reached up to wipe a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth, her lips twisting into a cold smirk. “Just remember, I tried to make this painless for you.”
Before Heather could reply, Ashley snatched a dagger from her bag and buried it in Heather’s abdomen. She stared at the handle as blood soaked through her shirt, the crimson circle slowly growing. Part of her mind rejected the pain blossoming through her torso, unable to comprehend what was happening.
Ashley hovered over her, her grip tight on Heather’s shoulders. “Give my regards to Dad and Davy Jones.” She dragged Heather to the edge of the boat, shoving her farther over the side toward the water. “You’ll make a beautiful fig
urehead.”
The word snapped something in Heather’s mind and shattered the shock, replacing the disbelief with raw, pure rage. She struggled to push her sister away. Adrenaline raced through her weakened muscles, and one thought became her mantra.
I’m not dying today. Not today.
She blocked the pain from her consciousness; survival was all that mattered. Ashley gripped her shoulders, shoving her over the side of the boat. Heather kicked her legs, hooking a foot under one of the seats. Anything to stay topside.
“Get in the water!” Ashley screamed and pressed down with all her weight. Heather’s head dunked into the sea. No. She had to fight. I’m not dying today.
In one desperate move, Heather grabbed the handle of the dagger in her stomach, jerked it free, and plunged it into the side of her sister’s neck.
Ashley’s eyes widened, her lips struggling to form words. Her body went limp, and Heather’s flash of strength faded. Ashley’s body weight fell onto Heather as the boat tilted.
They both slid into the ocean.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Colton and Skye both sat up just as a skiff came into view. Drake kept his eye on the boat, gunning the engine. “Banshee’s gone silent?”
Skye rubbed her forehead. “For now.”
As they neared the boat, Drake’s pulse raced. It was empty. “No. Fuck. No.” He glanced at Colton. “Take the wheel.”
He swapped places with his quartermaster, dread taking up residence in his gut. He was too fucking late. Drake yanked his shirt over his head and patted the pocket of his jeans. The root was still there. He took his gun from the holster and dropped it onto his shirt as Colton slowed the boat.
Drake dove into the warm Atlantic, pushing his exhausted body to the limit. He was a strong swimmer, but he hadn’t been this tired in centuries. Blood stained the side of the small skiff, and his heart sank. He spun around in the water and spotted a crimson trail of blood. He took a deep breath and dove under the surface. A few feet down he caught the glint of silver hair. Heather. Using the last ounce of energy he had left, he shot through the water and caught her around the waist.
He struggled to bring them both back up, kicking his legs until they broke through the surface of the ocean. She coughed out water, her voice raspy as she yelped in pain. He loosened his grip and noticed the wound to her abdomen.
“Shit. Hold on, love.”
He moved in front of her and turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck. With her on his back, he swam toward Colton and Skye.
“I love you,” she whispered as her grip on him slid free.
Drake’s heartbeat pounded like a drum in his ears as he reached for her with one arm and the boat with the other. The muscles in his chest screamed in agony as he gripped the edge.
Colton caught his arm. “Bring her closer to the boat. I’ll lift her up.”
He helped Colton with Heather, then attempted to pull himself up. His arms trembled with effort. Before he sank back into the water, Colton gripped his forearms. “On three, mate.”
Drake counted, and he made it into the boat. Drake scrambled to Heather’s side. Blood still oozed from her abdomen, and he had no idea how much blood she’d already lost in the water.
Skye offered some towels from the console. Drake didn’t take them, but instead he shoved a trembling hand into his pocket, feeling for the pouch from the root doctor. “Hang on, angel. Please. I can’t lose you.” She was still, too still, no longer breathing. He bent to kiss her cool lips, his chest clenching tight. “You brought me back into this world. Don’t leave me behind now.”
He fumbled with the drawstring on the root from Miss Bianca. The wax seal snapped and he dug out a piece. Parting her blue-tinted, cracked lips, he placed the root on her tongue as a tear rolled down his cheek. He was too fucking late.
“Please, love, breathe.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I got here as soon as I could. Please don’t leave me, Heather. We’ve got so much living to do.” He stroked her soft cheek, choking on a sob. “I love you.”
Heather coughed, and the remainder of the root slipped from his fingers, landing on the bottom of the boat as he lifted Heather’s torso, his heart leaping out of his damned chest.
Her eyes fluttered open. “I’m not…dying today.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He clutched her close to his chest as another tear rolled down his cheek. He lifted his head, shouting to Colton, “Heather needs a hospital.”
Colton pointed up at the sky. “Bale’s on his way with a helicopter.”
A motor rumbled in the distance as Drake reached down to scoop up the soggy pouch and tucked it back into his pocket, not ready to let it go yet.
The helicopter came into view and hovered over the boat. Bale lowered a stretcher, and Drake placed Heather inside, fastening the ties around her. Her face and hands were sunburned and already starting to blister, her lips still blue and cracked, but her chest rose and fell in slow breaths. Alive.
That was all that mattered.
Drake kissed her cheek. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, love.”
When he stepped back, the crane on the helicopter lifted Heather toward the aircraft. Once she was inside, the copter shot forward toward Savannah.
Drake sank into a seat, exhausted both mentally and physically. The salt water stung the wound in his hand. He barely registered the pain. Heather was alive. He peered up at Colton. “Can you pilot us back to my dock?”
Colton nodded, concern lining his face. “When are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why hasn’t your hand healed?”
Drake untied the towel, exposing the stab wound in his hand. “Looks like I’m going to grow old with you after all, mate.”
“What?” Colton’s eyes widened. “How? You drank from the cup again when we found it. It couldn’t have worn off.”
“I paid a root doctor for a spell and ended up trading my immortality to Met Agwe for the magic to bring someone back from the dead.” Drake rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. “I wasn’t going to let Heather walk into Ashley’s house without a backup plan.”
Colton shook his head. “Hefty price to pay.”
“I’d do it all over again. I love that woman. I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”
Colton glanced at Skye. “I know that feeling.”
Skye tried not to smile, crossing her arms. “Enough romantic gestures. Is there a first aid kit on this boat?”
Drake nodded. “Inside the front console where you found the towels.”
“Good. I’ll get your hand cleaned up.” She bumped her hip against Colton’s as she passed by. “You get us back to the dock so we can meet Heather at the hospital.”
“Aye, captain.” Colton grinned, starting the engine.
Seeing them together, a team, made Drake’s lonely existence pale. Being with Heather had given him a taste of that bond. Until her, he’d been fine on his own, but now…she’d shown him what it was like to have a partner, to know someone would miss him if he were gone.
Skye returned with iodine, gauze pads, and tape. All he wanted was for Colton to get them back to land. He needed to be with Heather, to be sure she was safe.
He took the supplies, glancing up at Skye as he cleaned the wound. “Tell me she’s going to be all right.”
Skye nodded with a knowing smile. “She’s a tough lady.”
“Aye.” He winced as the iodine burned his open skin. “I’ve got to get to her.”
Colton glanced over his shoulder. “What about her sister?”
“She must’ve stabbed Heather. I didn’t see her body in the water.” Drake shrugged. “I guess Davy Jones collected on their bargain.”
“Hope so.” Colton shouted over the wind. “Land ho!”
Drake wrapped his hand quickly and readied the line
to tie the boat to the dock. Colton throttled back on the motor and guided the boat alongside the dock. Drake couldn’t wait any longer. He jumped across, taking the line with him.
“Little eager to get ashore?” Colton grinned.
“Aye.” Drake looped the rope around the iron cleat on the dock. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he called over his shoulder as fast as his exhausted mortal body would allow.
…
Heather woke to the beeping of a heart monitor. She turned her head and smiled at her snoozing visitor. Drake was slumped in a chair, sleeping beside her. How long had she been in the hospital? She peered underneath her hospital gown to find the hole in her abdomen had been replaced by a neat line of stitches.
It was over. Relief and regret stewed in her heart. Ashley wouldn’t hurt anyone else, but their last moments together would haunt Heather forever. If there had been any other way to stop her twin, she would have taken it. In the end, Ashley left her with no choice.
Kill or be killed.
She forced the dark thoughts away, focusing on Drake again. He’d come for her, just like she knew he would. She allowed her gaze to wander down from his face, to his shoulders, and down to his…bandaged hand. She frowned. Shouldn’t the stab from her sister be healed?
A nurse walked into the room, and Drake jerked awake in the chair. His gaze locked on Heather’s, and the beep on the heart monitor picked up the tempo.
“You’re awake.” His voice sounded scratchy and gruff.
Heather nodded, ignoring the nurse buzzing around to check the monitors and IV fluid. “So are you.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “How long have I been here?”
He glanced at the clock and back to her face. “Day and a half.” He stood, came to her bedside, and took her hand.
Her thumb brushed over the wrap on his hand.
“Everything looks great,” the nurse interrupted. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”
“Thank you.” Heather waited until they were alone and whispered, “Why isn’t your hand healed up?”
Drake brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Long story, love.” He straightened. “I need to tell you something first.”
