by Maddie James
She landed with a thud and it wasn't on the stone. It wasn't sand. Grass. Somewhere else. The skull sat gape-mouthed in her lap.
A hand reached out to her and she took it. Pulled her up to sit.
"Look at the skull, Claire."
His voice was familiar but his face blank. Who was he? What was happening?
"Look, Claire, at the skull."
It was in her hands now, the skull. The thing she sought. The key to quelling the curse.
She finally had it. Now everything would be all right. They could break the curse.
She looked and saw.
Terror hit her straight in the gut. Both ice and fire ran through her veins.
A head. In her hands. Flesh again. Eyes lolled back in his head. Tongue slightly askew. Blood dripping from his neck onto her fingers, onto her chemise, her skirt, her bare feet.
Jack!
Jack!
She sank to her knees. No! No. Not Jack!
Sobs wracked her body. No, not Jack...
"Dead. He's dead. Took his head, I did."
The man cackled again. Tossing back his faceless head as though he were baying at the moon.
"I told you I would kill him, Claire. You should have listened to me long ago, sweetheart. I killed him and I will kill him again and again until he is erased from your head and your heart. Remember that. Your Jack is dead. Your spirit mate. You will never find him. Never, Claire. Never. Not as long as I possess a breath."
Drawn to look at the man, she lifted her gaze from the bloody mass in her lap.
Rick.
A primal scream rent the air.
"And I will kill his child, too."
Claire bolted upright in the bed, perspiration running cold on her neck, her scream loud enough she was certain to wake nearly everyone on the hotel floor.
Jack was at her side in an instant. Holding her. Soothing. Chasing away the nightmare.
Disoriented. Dizzy. She clutched to him.
She remembered. They were tailing Rick. He would lead them to the skull. Jack had been at the window, at watch, letting her sleep, making sure Rick didn't leave without them.She sucked in breath after breath. Shaking.
"There, my Hannah Claire, it's only a dream,” he crooned, trying to sooth her. “Nothing to fear. Just a dream."
Nothing to fear. They had everything to fear.
* * * *
Driving down the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, miles of dunes on their left and scrub pines to their right, Claire's mood remained somber. The nightmare had her rocked to the core. She'd been hard-pressed to shake it all day.
They'd left Virginia that morning, hot on Rick's tail. Now, the early evening sun slanted over the western sky as if in search of its nighttime resting place over the mainland.
A full moon stood waiting in the wings to take its place and rule the night.
Jack sat beside her, his head relaxed against the headrest as they slept. She thought about the last time they'd made love. Funny, it seemed a small eternity ago. She really couldn't pinpoint exactly when, but knew it had been sometime before her mother died. As she glanced at Jack, a shiver of anticipation wafted over her as she thought about what they were about to do. How would this all end? Would they live happily-ever-after? Or would the curse follow them, find them and doom them to a life of strife forever?
Is the curse already at work?
She certainly hoped not. She didn't know if either of them could stand living in purgatory for the rest of their lives.
But the dream haunted her. Chilled her to the bone. Too real, too painful. Could this undying search to get this skull simply be a trick? Would they die trying to get it? And then truly be separated, forced to search for each other's spirits all over again?
A crazy Karma circle that could never be completed?
Both were quiet as they approached the ferry to Ocracoke Island. Now came the tricky part. Getting close enough to get on the same ferry with Rick, but far enough behind that he would not see them hidden away in the black rental car with tinted windows. Even in their disguises of hats and scarves, she was glad she'd thought about renting the car. One less thing for her to worry about, driving a vehicle Rick would not recognize.
They followed him all the way into Ocracoke Village. Thankful for the night, she felt confident they were still undercover. When Rick pulled off onto a side street, she hung back and then turned off her lights. Creeping along until she saw his brake lights slide to the right, she slowed and finally came to a stop, engine idling.
Jack slept beside her. He'd been up most of the night standing watch, making sure Rick didn't give them the slip. He stayed awake so she could sleep and drive. Now, he was tired and out cold. She didn't wake him. As long as they knew where Rick's hangout was going to be, they were okay.
Now it was a game of watching and waiting.
Rick pulled bags out of the trunk and motioned. Cracking her window, she heard him shout to a man on the porch. The porch-light backlit the man who met him halfway up the sidewalk. He took a large duffle from Rick and they both went into the house.
She stayed there for another thirty minutes or so and then decided to head back to the light keeper's house. The rental was still hers. She'd paid the year's lease three months ago. Although they'd rather abandoned it not long after, she assumed it was still hers.
She had to think. A lot to consider.
A lot to risk.
Hours of driving had led to concentrated thought about what had to happen next. Particularly when she'd realized Rick was leading them right back into Blackbeard's lair, where all of this had begun. A plan formulated in her mind.
Jack was in danger. Given one thread of a chance, Rick would kill him.
Rick also wanted her and everything that came with her.
She wasn't in danger. He wouldn't hurt her.
But he would kill Jack if he had a chance.
* * * *
The narrow dirt road ended by the lighthouse. The cottage sat to their left, the lighthouse in front at the foot of a dune. Claire glanced from side to side, wary of anyone who may have decided to meet her there. It wouldn't be the first time Rick had followed her to the cottage with plans of his own.
But that was just her paranoia. Rick had no clue she was here. And she'd just left him back in the village. There were no visible signs of another human being for miles.
Thank God.
She shoved the gearshift into park and twisted the ignition key to off.
It's now or never.
"We're here, Jack. We made it."
He roused and glanced about. “We're at the lighthouse?” he muttered. “I must have slept like a babe."
"Yes. But you have to wake up now. We need to hurry."
"Hurry?"
"Yes."
He sat up straighter. “Where is that bastard? Is he here?"
Claire shook her head. “No. But he's close. That is why we have to hurry.” She got out of the car. “Come on, Jack. Now. We have to get to the lighthouse."
Groggy and disoriented, he obviously didn't understand. Claire gathered up a backpack from the rear seat and rounded the car. She met him on the other side and hooked her arm in the crook of his elbow.
"We have little time. I didn't wake you. But we have to move fast.” She pulled him toward the lighthouse, down the sandy bank.
They stumbled, moving quickly through the dark.
"Hannah Claire,” he stopped abruptly at the foot of the dune and halted her. “Tell me what is going on."
She glanced nervously from side to side then took a deep breath. Taking his face in her hands, she focused his attention on her. “Okay, listen to me, Jack. This is important. You were asleep. Rick stopped at a house in the village. A small cottage near the sound, off the beaten path. He took some things inside and then he left again. I waited but he didn't come back. So I took a risk. I slipped into the house through an open back window and Jack,” she paused, taking a breath, and hoping he was graspin
g the urgency of her story, “I found it. I found the chalice."
"What?"
She nodded. “It's in my backpack. So, we have to move. We have to cross over back to your time as soon as possible. When he returns and finds that it is gone..."
Now more fully awake, she could see his brain turning, coming alive as understanding dawned.
"We have it?"
"Yes."
"You aggravating little wench, you went and stole it all by yourself?” He grasped her upper arms like he was going to shake her.
"Are you going to chastise me or hug me? Because I'm not sure which to expect, but whatever you decide, do it quickly because I don't want to be in this century when Rick finds out.” She glanced to the sky. He followed her gaze.
"A full moon."
"Yes."
"A good sign."
"Yes."
"I want to go home and make love to you."
"Jack, I want nothing more. It's time,” she said as she took his hand and pulled him closer to the lighthouse. “It's time to go home."
Fear lanced through her at that moment but she moved forward. This was something that had to be done. There was no other way.
The yellow-gold moon bathed them. The lighthouse beckoned. The ocean roared beside them, the water high on the shore. And as Claire glimpsed the full moon following their fast trek toward the stone, she thought about the clues inscribed there.
Prior to the second celestial orb, with the waxing tide, as the seasonal winds blow...
She panicked and looked once more to the moon.
Prior to the second celestial orb...
Was this a blue moon, the second full moon this month? She hadn't thought to check the calendar.
The moon cycles.
Mama had warned her to be wary of the cycles.
They rushed forward.
Jack looked at her.
With the waxing of the tide...
Was the tide high? Two out of three. Maybe. Her breathing deepened.
The wind.
As the seasonal winds blow...
The hurricane. A hurricane had been moving through when the time portal opened. Tonight, she glanced to where the sea oats stood tall, gently arched on a breeze. The wind was calm and still. She relaxed.
No storm.
Please God, she prayed. Don't let this be the night the portal is closed forever.
"Hannah Claire?” Jack's voice came to her within a dizzying gyration of moon and sand and surf. Of his face and his voice. Her mother's. Of the ring she wore on her hand and of the look on his face when they made love.
"Just one last look, Jack,” she whispered. “I'm ready now."
He nodded. She felt his gaze on her for several seconds after she turned away. They pulled together on the heavy door of the lighthouse, still carelessly left unlocked, and took several urgent steps toward the gaping hole in the back.
Blood galloped through her chest as the ocean surf pounded the sand outside the lighthouse. With each hurried step they took toward the stone, the pounding grew louder, until she no longer knew whether it was the ocean surf or the surging of her blood through every capillary in her body that roared to life within her.
They stood before the stone.
Something fluttered in her belly. Something unlike anything she'd ever felt before, confusing her. Her free hand flew there to caress it.
The baby.
Their baby.
She was doing this for the baby. To protect her baby's father.
At that precious moment, a moonbeam showered down upon them from a window high near the top of the lighthouse, illuminating the stone. Slowly, she lifted her gaze upward and a feeling of archaic power entranced her. Her breathing deepened and shuddered within her chest. She looked at Jack and the tears fell.
But a glimmer of hope raced through her. She had a purpose. And she would see to it.
The quest to find the skull was now hers and hers alone.
She reached up for one last touch of Jack's cheek against the palm of her hand.
"I love you, Jack,” she whispered. Her head pounding, her heart breaking.
"I love you, too.” He took her in a powerful embrace then, raking his lips over her mouth, holding her so very close to his body. “I love you more than life itself."
Within an instant, Claire felt and saw the magnetism of the stone's power.
The low hum.
The pulsating red and orange.
The lights.
He broke away and grasped her hand. “Let's go, Hannah Claire. Let's go home."
She nodded. “Yes. I'll follow up."
Smiling, Jack eagerly took the first step onto the stone. One foot and then the other. The vortex of lights spun around him and then Claire lifted a foot to join him.
"Come, my darling, Hannah. Come."
She pulled her hand out of his. Those familiar, minute points of light dizzied her. “Hannah!"
She stepped back once again, out of the beam and into the shadows, her face wet with tears. The last thing she saw was the agonized look on Jack's face and his hand reaching out to her. The last thing she heard was the deep wail of pain as her name tore from his lips.
And with a painful flash, he was gone.
Terror ripped through her and she screamed his name. Reaching out, she lunged back into the beam and tried to grab him, barely able to skim the stone. But the swirling lights burned to the touch and she jerked her hand out of the stone's reach.
The curse. Was this the curse? This pain she felt being separated from him?
In trying to do the right thing, had she done exactly the thing the curse had warned her would happen? No. She couldn't believe that. No.
"I will come back, Jack. I will. I will find you,” she screamed. Eyes wide in disbelief of what she'd done, her breathing quickened until she nearly hyperventilated. She sank to her knees and her entire body hit the floor. Her face plunged into the cold wooden planks. Tiny granules of sand ground into her cheek. She sobbed, lying there on the cold floor, whispering his name over and over, until her body was weak from exhaustion.
When the last of the sobs had wracked her body, she stood and looked up into the same beam of moon glow shining down over her. She rose and cursed the moon for all it had done to her. For its part in her pain.
I will come back, Jack.
She willed the words to him across time, through the depths of the lighthouse, staring at the mute, gray, slab of rock.
Please hear me.
I will be with you again. I had to do this. Mama said sometimes I might have to do things I don't want to do. But it is for the best. Rick would have killed you, Jack. I am saving your life. And when I come back, I will have the chalice for real, and we will be together for always.
It's about love, Jack. Love.
But no words came back to her.
No silent communication, no telepathy, as before.
It scared the hell out of her.
Without a backward glance, she stepped across the circle of floor to leave. As she pushed open the heavy door of the lighthouse to step out onto the beach, the wind gusted into her face like an icy blast from the north, throwing her into the door, billowing sand around her ankles, and piercing her heart with its frozen shards of pain and fear.
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Chapter Twenty-Two
Bright piercing sunlight bit through his sand encrusted eyelids. Painful warmth, heated from the afternoon sun, flooded his cheek smashed into the beach sands. Jack groaned and tried once more to open his eyes, the glare reflecting from the tidal flats blaring white-hot into his head. He tried to move from his face down, sprawled position but found it nearly impossible to do so. His limbs were heavy with fatigue. His numb brain refused to control any movement of his body.
At least for the time being.
It seemed he'd lain there for hours, his breathing labored, the lids of his eyes occasionally lifting. Once a sand crab sidled by close to his nose. He
couldn't muster up enough energy to even flick it away. He simply watched it through veiled eyes. His lips were parched and dry, the afternoon sun and the salt mist saw to that. He tried to rake his moist tongue over them, but it didn't help. The inside of his mouth was a dry as his lips. They hurt. He hurt. And he couldn't for the life of him remember why or how he'd gotten himself into this predicament.
The rum. Ah, ‘twas it, wasn't it?
The rum. Then it would take only a few hours more to escape it. Thank the Lord, it would be over soon. Just a few hours more, after the sun went down and the cool breezes blew in off the ocean, then he could gather up enough strength to drag himself back to his cabin. Back to his lonely, empty cabin. So he could forget the nightmare induced by his drunken stupor.
The bloody nightmare that tore his heart out.
He opened his eyes again, more easily this time, and the cool darkness bit back at him. Must have slept. Arching one eyebrow and raising one lid as far as he could, he stared out at the distant dusk settling over the buoyant sea.
Black. Black as the back of his eyelids. No stars. No moon.
I've got to get home.
Pushing his knees up under him, he attempted to rise from the cold sand. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, he pushed far enough to roll his entire body over onto his back. Moaning a low guttural curse, Jack realized that the switch in positions really wasn't that much help, just a change of scenery, and a relief to his tender stomach. Now he wasn't staring at the horizon, he was staring full-scale at the heavens, too weak and dehydrated, he suspected, to try to move anymore.
At his back, he felt the smooth hard planes of something firm and solid, unlike the soft shifting sands. Odd, he thought as a twinkling of remembrance nagged at him from somewhere deep in his skull.
Grimacing, he rolled up on one elbow and shifted his weight to lay a hand in front of him. Puzzled, he then stroked his fingertips along the cool surface of a flat, gray stone.
* * * *
For three days Claire stared at the little house with the picket fence in the village, living out of her car, praying every time she had to go to the bathroom that Rick wouldn't leave. She'd changed her disguise so many times she felt she'd lost her own identity. The first day she'd parked down the street, watching his comings and goings. The second day she'd parked a street over and used her Papa's twenty-year-old binoculars to spy on him. She'd seen him come and go at least once a day. Chuck DeHart joined him the day after he'd arrived, then the goons who had tried to help Rick kidnap her the first time. She wasn't positive, but also thought she recognized the scruffy man from the Blackbeard's Treasure shop she'd visited months earlier.
