“How on Othala are we supposed to do this?” I cried, terror squeezing my throat. “Maybe we should just sail away, Logan. At least then nobody would die.”
“Have you forgotten your mother, Demetria?” John’s glacial tone froze my insides except for the cold, creeping shame that crawled over me.
“He has to remarry at some point. He’ll set Helena aside then.” Logan stroked my hair with one hand.
“What about your family? Living in fear and hiding for the rest of their lives? Risking exposure at every turn? Not all of them will escape the Regent and you know it.”
“He’ll forget about them. He’ll start a new family and forget about them. The Reutterance is over and Galveteen is safe. It’ll be fifty years before another pair of powerful witches arises on the island.” I grabbed Logan’s free hand and squeezed hard.
“Can you take that chance? Live on this little boat for the rest of your damned lives and never know your families’ fates?” John grimaced, disgust written all over his face.
Logan turned his head, and we locked gazes. I searched his expression for any clue of what he was thinking. His hair shimmered golden brown in the sunlight filtering through the porthole. I tried to envision him with long hair, but all I saw was Murgatroyd and his men holding Logan down so they could hack off his hair and humiliate him.
If I listened hard enough, I could hear the terrified screams of a child trapped in the dark, alone, maybe thinking no one cared.
I saw the clenched jaws and tight faces of Logan’s family existing in fear of discovery all the time. Forced to give up their homes and their lives to escape being imprisoned or worse by a despot.
And, maybe worst of all, I saw my mother naked in the Regent’s bed, enduring his touch, never knowing if Chelsea was really safe or what happened to me. Not allowed to be with the man she’d loved and had been separated from ever since she’d gotten pregnant with me.
If I were brave – and smart enough – I could do something about all of this. I’d been given a gift when I’d been marked by Othala. Was I really going to waste it by sailing off into the sunset with Logan? Would I be able to touch him and make love with him without thinking about the people we’d left behind and could have helped?
“I want to go back, Logan,” I whispered. “We’ve been ready to die for our families and for Galveteen ever since we were marked. I don’t think we’re done saving them yet, do you?”
Slowly, Logan shook his head. “No, I don’t.” He took my face between his hands and stared into my eyes. “I love you, my earth witch. I will love you forever, no matter what happens.”
“I love you, too, sea witch.” I could barely talk around the tears clogging my throat. “So much.”
Logan smiled at me. For a moment I saw the cocky pirate who’d burst into the bathroom and seen me naked in the tub. How had I ever existed without knowing him?
Drawing a deep breath, Logan turned to John Clark, who stood in the center of the galley, his hands planted on his hips. The two men stared at each for a stretched-out, heavy moment.
John Clark’s smile threatened to take over his entire face when Logan said, “Help me hoist the Sector flag. We’re going home.”
Chapter 24
Darkness surrounded the Selkie. She ran on limited lights so we wouldn’t announce our presence to people who might be scanning the seas. The hull cut through water, black as a raven’s wing, disrupting the glassy surface.
Several witches stood on deck directing wind into the sails, speeding us on our way. The Selkie was easily five times as big as the Sea Cursed with enough space for thirty sailors. Thirty-two now that Logan and I were aboard.
We’d left the Sea Cursed adrift, armed only with a locater spell Logan had cast in case we ever wanted to find her. No one dared sail her close to Galveteen in case we were observed. Strangely, I missed the Sea Cursed. I’d never wanted to make a boat my forever home, but Logan had told me he loved me on her, and I’d lost my virginity on her deck beneath the vivid stars. The Selkie, huge and strange, felt different – from the roll of the deck beneath my feet, to the constant background hum of voices and movements as witches performed their duties.
Now I was headed back to Galveteen. Anxiety squeezed my stomach like a slowly closing fist. I stood in the bow as the Selkie skimmed the waves, and the fresh scent of salt water filled my senses. I would never smell the ocean again without flashing back to the Sea Cursed and the Selkie.
A stiff breeze blew back my hair, making me wish I had a ribbon. I shivered. I should go below deck for a number of reasons. Warming up was a good one, so was hiding so no one from the island saw me on deck. Perhaps I was paranoid about that last one. Several of the sea witches aboard were women. One of them happened to be Logan’s younger sister, Cordelia, the one who’d refused to hide with the rest of her family. I wanted to get to know her, but she and Logan had taken one look at each other and fallen into each other’s arms, laughing and crying to be reunited. They were currently together below deck drinking coffee and talking non-stop.
I’d hung back, wanting Logan to introduce me, which he had, but Cordelia had barely glanced at me, waved a jaunty hello, and went right back to chattering at Logan, who barely got a word in edgewise.
Retreat had seemed prudent in order to give them brother and sister time. I’d gone on deck, forgetting to even grab a sweater, and now I was cold and damp from the sea spray and wind.
First one light flickered in the hazy distance, then another. Soon a soft, electric glow lit the horizon. Galveteen. Home.
Someone draped a blanket around my shoulders, I huddled into the warmth gratefully. I glanced to the side. John Clark came to stand shoulder to shoulder with me, his gaze fixed on the lights of the island.
“We’ll be met outside the harbor by two guards from Regiment Thirteen,” he told me, shifting slightly from side to side as the waves tossed the boat. “I’ll come with you as far as the gates outside Regents Row. I don’t dare go in. You and Logan are sure you want to go to the archives instead of Seawall South?”
“I don’t want to raise an army, John. I want to find Thirteen’s journals and figure out if there’s a way to bring about a change in regency without bloodshed. Using magic not in a destructive way.” I wrapped the blanket more closely around me.
“You’d better hope you find one. Getting you out of Regents Row won’t be easy. My contacts within the regiment will only stick their necks out so far.”
I nodded. Lights solidified into an island. I could see the shoreline and the dark bulk of the seawall. We’d dock in the harbor off Seawall South. Logan and I would pretend we were part of the witch crew, hopefully not raising any suspicions with the regiment assigned to patrol the docks. Logan was the biggest risk. He’d worked on the docks, and the most of the guards knew his face. His hair, much shorter than any of the other male witches’ would also be a sticking point. Luckily it was chilly night and someone had found him a hooded cloak. Still, my heart wouldn’t calm its rapid beating until we were clear.
“Wait below while we dock. You have no seafaring skills, and you’ll stand out,” John said as we approached one of the bigger piers.
Clutching the blanket around me, I headed for the ladder leading below. When John put his hand on my shoulder, I halted and glanced back.
“Othala bless you and the sea witch,” he whispered, affection tugging the corners of his mouth into a smile.
Impulsively I brushed my cheek across the back of his hand. He sucked in a sharp breath, his smile freezing at first then widening.
Below deck, I sought out Logan in the galley. He had the cloak over one arm as he stood in a corner, his blue eyes watchful. His sister was gone. Hiding perhaps. Or helping to dock the ship. I wasn’t entirely sure if she was an actual crewmember of the Selkie or if she’d talked her way onto the ship to help look for her brother.
When Logan saw me, he held out his hand. I rushed across the galley to him, and instead of taking his hand, I p
ushed my body against his. Smiling, he wound his arm around my waist and pulled me closer.
“Scared?” he asked, his tone sympathetic. I nodded and he kissed my forehead. “Don’t be. What’s this compared to casting the spell of Reutterance? Right?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. What’ll we do if can’t find Thirteen’s journals? Or worse, we do find them, and they don’t help us?”
“Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“You would’ve have made a crappy soldier. Military strategy is important. We should have a back-up plan. Damn, we should have a plan. We have half of one at best. Find the journals and hope what we read in them suggests a course of action. Othala curse it, Logan, what are we doing?”
Logan took my face between his palms, forcing me to look at him. His face, grim and handsome, made my heart pound. Would I ever get used to looking at him, or would every deep look always make my soul jolt? “We’re doing the best we can. Do you trust me?”
“You know I do.” I sighed.
“Then relax.” He let me go so he could don the cloak. I leaned against the bulkhead as the Selkie shuddered against the pier. On deck, sea witches shouted as ropes were tossed and the ship secured.
“Where’s your sister?” I craned my neck around as if I might find her just by mentioning her.
“Sulking in her quarters. She’s not allowed on deck or to see us off.” Logan shook his head, his jaw tightening. “She risked her life coming on this search mission.” He grimaced. “Never listens to reason, that one.”
“Sounds like she takes after you,” I said, drawing a smirk from him. I let out a small shriek when he swatted my bottom. We wrestled around the room until he pinned me against the bulkhead before lowering his mouth to mine for a punishing kiss.
I kissed him back with a fervent need that shocked me. He groaned deep in his throat, pressing his hard erection into my lower belly. Did I dare undo his belt? How long did it take to dock a boat?
“Earth witch, you drive me crazy, you know that?” Logan cupped one of my breasts through my shirt and squeezed. “If you don’t stop kissing me.” His tongue probed into my mouth sweetly. “I’m going to take you right against the bulkhead.”
“Who’s stopping you?” I murmured as I kissed him, reaching between his legs greedily.
“Break it up you two!” John barked in a voice at once agonized with embarrassment and gruff with annoyance. Fatherly annoyance. Logan and I broke apart guiltily. John’s cheeks glowed bright red, and his jaw jutted ominously.
“Just passing the time,” Logan said with a brash smile that did nothing to loosen the tension in John’s jaw.
“Well, pass it above deck. We’ve tied up, and we need to move out.” John stabbed a finger toward the door.
“I love her, you know. I’m going to marry her.” Logan pulled up the hood of his cloak, turning himself into a mysterious stranger.
A muscle beneath John’s eye twitched, and he grunted. He caught me staring at him, and all traces of his protective anger faded.
“I suppose you think I haven’t the right to act like a defensive father,” he said stiffly.
“Of course you do,” I told him. “But Logan spoke the truth. He is going to marry me, and you’re going to bear witness at the ceremony. I give you permission to knock his block off if he tries to ditch me at the altar, okay?”
Logan and John burst into laughter, and still chuckling, made their way above deck. I followed, my heart in my mouth, wishing I could laugh as easily as they could. However, the uncertainty of the next few hours wouldn’t allow me that pleasure.
On deck witches were disembarking in twos and threes, chatting and laughing together. Four guards stood at the end of the pier, the brass buttons on their uniforms gleaming in the subdued harbor lighting. They ignored most of the witches, but as I stepped onto the gangway preparatory to crossing to the pier, one guard broke ranks to hug a female sea witch, his face lit with affection. She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and Logan nudged me to keep me moving.
“Told you,” he whispered in my ear as we hopped onto the wooden pier. I couldn’t see his face because of the hood. Gulping back fear, I followed him down the long pier toward the guards. They wouldn’t know me, but what if they recognized Logan? The Regent must have put a price on both our heads should we be seen on the island.
Logan walked with supreme confidence, the hem of his cloak flaring as the wind grabbed it. Once again I’d forgotten a sweater, and I shivered in the stiff ocean breeze. Only a few feet now remained between us and the guards. John Clark had already disembarked. He was ahead of Logan.
“Growing a beard now you’re a sailor not a soldier, John?” The tallest guard, the one next to the guard still hugging the sea witch, grinned. Teasing, not taunting.
“Shaving on rough seas is a good way to slit your own throat,” John said, reaching out to shake the guard’s hand.
“Some say you ought to stick with your own kind and crew a fishing vessel.” The guard on the end remarked, his mouth tight.
“Some people like you maybe?” John turned to the guard, the smile fading from his eyes. Logan increased his pace, his boots thumping on the wood planks of the pier. I stopped walking and pretended to fuss with my hair, which blew around my cheeks in the stiff breeze. I didn’t know whether I should keep my head down, which might make me look furtive, or stare straight into the guards’ faces, which could trigger a response.
Othala curse it! Nobody had prepared me for this part. Logan’s hooded cloak protected him, and as he passed the guards, he turned his head a fraction as if staring at one of the boats docked beyond the Selkie.
My heart sat like a lead lump in my chest. I strode forward again, letting my hair fall across the cheek facing the guards.
“I’m just saying, John, that considering your discharge was tied to a witch, you might want to keep your nose clean and avoid other witches. You don’t want to attract the Regent’s attention, do you?” The guard on the end sounded angry, as if John’s choice to sail with the Selkie was a personal affront. “You’re already a blot on the honor of the Regent’s army, why make it worse?”
“I’m not a blot. I’m nothing anymore to people like the Regent, or you.” John took a menacing step closer to the guard. I increased my pace, hoping everyone would decide I rushed because I wanted to get away from a possible altercation.
“Ah, let him alone,” the tall guard said. “What’s it to you, Roger?”
“Nothing,” muttered Roger truculently. The tall guard must outrank him.
Nearly past them. Logan already had turned toward the harbor exit and the street beyond. How had I fallen so far behind? I increased my pace to catch up and tripped on a loose plank at the end of the pier.
I bit back a cry, but every guard and John turned toward me. Roger reached out and snagged the back of my shirt, preventing a nasty fall.
“Careful, witch. Sea legs don’t do you much good on dry land.” He turned me around and looked me full in the face.
Terror engulfed me. I knew he expected me to thank him, but my voice dried up in my throat.
The guard’s blond hair fell across his forehead. He had a large nose and thick lips. His eyes, brown as mud, filled with curiosity as he stared at me. The curiosity morphed into lust when his gaze dropped to my chest. My shirt was thin, and my nipples, hard from the cold, pressed against the fabric.
“Say, you look cold, little witch. I’m off duty in an hour. I know how to warm your sea-cold bones.”
“I’m married,” I squeaked, and all the guards burst into raucous laughter – John included, although his eyes narrowed.
“That never stopped any sea witch I’ve ever known.” Roger licked his lips, still guffawing.
“Well, it’ll stop this one,” I managed to say.
“You’re young. Must be a newlywed. Look me up in a few months. I’ll make it worth your while to spend some time with me.” Roger pretended to brush
something off my shirt. His pale, stubby fingers all but crawled over my right breast, and I sucked in my breath. Terror and fury swirled inside me.
“Roger, you bastard, have you forgotten about me?” A pretty redheaded sea witch pouted at the end of the pier. She rolled a hip enticingly. “I’ve only been gone a week! Fine memory you have. I guess what you told me last time we were together meant shit?”
“Danielle!” Roger forgot all about me as he turned toward the redhead. She tossed her curls, and flashed me a look that plainly ordered me to get moving.
I didn’t need a second invitation. I rushed for the harbor exit. John called goodbye to his guard friend, and followed, hard on my heels.
Once we were past the harbor gates and around a corner, John grabbed my arm, hauling me up short. His lips pulled back into a snarl, he hissed, “What was that? What did you just do back there?”
Tears blurred my eyes. “I tripped.”
John took me by the shoulders with both hands and shook me until my vision and thoughts scrambled. “Never do something like that again! You scared the hell out of me! Roger Ames is a scumbag. A dangerous scumbag! Don’t you ever do something like that again or you risk exposing us all!”
Logan appeared out of the shadows, the hood of his cloak pushed back. His eyes burned dangerously dark. “Let go of her. I saw what happened too. It was an accident. She was paying more attention to you. She was worried about you!”
John grimaced and his hands loosened. Drawing a deep breath, he said, “It’s called creating a diversion.”
“Bullshit. You were ready to punch that idiot in the head and you know it. That’s not a diversion, that’s suicide. You did worse than what you accuse her of doing. Now what on Othala are we doing standing here arguing? Where are your men? We need to get to the archives. It’ll be dawn in a few hours and harder to hide.” Logan stepped closer, his jaw jutting. I couldn’t help moving closer to him, yearning for the comfort of his touch.
Sea Cursed: An Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 13 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 25
