by Ilana Waters
I mean, if people suspected every bauble-wearing girl was a witch, she thought, they’d have to arrest most of the women in London. Possibly some of the men. So, at the same time she picked up her new top, she stocked up on bracelets, rings, and a few necklaces with semiprecious stones. Smoky quartz for shielding. Black onyx for protection against psychic attack. Carnelian as a general ward. The list went on. Abigail then enhanced the stones with her own magic. She’d even braided some of the beaded ones into her hair, and wore the rest of the curls loose.
She’d been going to try that sort of thing eventually—she was still shaky on the exact spells—but there was no time to hesitate. It was now or never. And she’d definitely need some magical form of backup, now that Titus was out of the picture. Arrogant ass, she thought. To hell with him. It was up to her and her alone to stop Cunningham.
She paid for her new magic supplies with the extra tins of caviar in Titus’s kitchen. A kitchen that she discovered was roughly the size of her old apartment in New York. What kind of vampire needs a humongous place to eat, anyway? she thought. Probably came with the townhouse. At least, she hoped it did, and that there weren’t several dead people stuffed in the walk-in freezer.
But she’d had no time to determine whether her host was a Captain Bluebeard. After a fruitless attempt to find him in the mazelike house, she spent the next hour furiously pacing the drawing room. By the time the sun had well and truly risen, Abigail passed out in one of many guest bedrooms. At least it had an alarm clock, which she set to wake her that afternoon. Titus still wasn’t up at that hour, of course. Abigail debated leaving him a note, but decided against it.
Why should I bother? she thought. He already knows where I’m going. Besides, I said everything I had to say the last time we spoke. She didn’t care if she never set eyes on him again.
Except she did. Glancing around now, Abigail was suddenly aware of how alone she was. She’d used the last of the caviar money to pay for a curry, which she wolfed down before heading to the wharf. Now, she could feel it churning in her stomach as she watched Cunningham, Sybil, Carver, and Brandy wait for the “final shipment” at dock D28.
She had little trouble finding it. Titus had been right; it wasn’t far from the burned-out warehouse. It was further along the quay, where the boats arrived. She’d gotten there well before the ten-o’clock meeting time and hidden behind a stack of wooden crates. The hiding was just a precaution; she’d already turned herself invisible, and with some extra magic from the smoky quartz, she was confident the others wouldn’t sense her. Still, it was just her against four others: three of them magical, at least two of them murderers, and one a criminal mastermind. Not the greatest odds. Her stomach turned over again.
She watched Cunningham pace up and down the dock, a string of pearls bouncing against her shoulder-padded blazer. Sybil was wearing her amulet, and a filmy, light blue blouse similar to her dress of last night. Brandy still had her miniskirt and crucifix, but had added a halter top with plunging neckline and over-the-knee vinyl boots. Carver hadn’t changed clothes at all, as far as Abigail could tell.
“Did you get the emergency supplies?” Cunningham asked Carver.
“Yeah, they back in there.” Carver jerked his head toward the warehouse behind them. “Weren’t easy, but we—”
“Very good,” interrupted Cunningham. “With Gregson and the others gone, we’ll have to make due with a skeleton crew. Or rather, vampire and witch crew,” she chuckled.
“Hilarious,” said Sybil, unsmiling. “You’re a regular Gilda Radner. But let’s make one thing clear—this had better be worth it. Remember what I told you on the phone: that other witch, Abigail, nearly killed me. I still have half a mind to finish you off the way I said I would.”
Cunningham was unimpressed. “It’s not my fault you let her get the better of you. And you two,” she pointed one long finger between Carver and Brandy, “let Aurelius get away.”
“Weren’t our doing,” sniffed Brandy. “He turned invisible, he did.”
“A possibility which you should have foreseen,” Cunningham retorted.
“How could we see anything if he were invisible?” Carver said with a smirk.
Sybil closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Enough of this idiocy. We all need to beware of the witch called Abigail. Her powers are growing. She could still make trouble for us. She could be here tonight, in fact. Or that other one, Aurelius. Or both.”
“Really, Sybil.” Cunningham ran her fingertips over her pearl necklace. “You worry too much. I’ve got everything under control. Now, if only that blasted boat would get here.” Her eyes scanned the foggy horizon for ships, her shoe’s pointed toe tapping sharply against the wooden dock.
The wind picked up. Abigail heard it whipping over the waves. Cunningham had chosen her remote location well. There wasn’t another human or boat to be seen. Other than the sound of the stiffly blowing breezes, all was eerily still on the water.
More dark clouds rolled through the sky, making a noise like wagon wheels against cobblestone. Abigail could feel the vibrations in the air. She was so busy looking for signs of impending rain, she didn’t feel the hands clamp down on her shoulders until it was too late.
Fear seized her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut and gathered magic into her body as fast as she could, like she’d seen Titus do so many times.
Before you get violent, a deep voice said in her mind, you should know it’s only me.
The hands lifted from her shoulders. Abigail turned around. There, invisible to everyone but her, was Titus.
Just wanted to make that clear before your knee got within firing distance. His eyes dropped to his belt buckle and came back up again. We saw what happened the last time I startled you.
Abigail’s face lit up. She threw her arms around Titus. An electric thrill ran through her as she pressed her body to his. I knew it! I knew you’d be here. She let go, and her face darkened. Wait. What are you doing here?
Someone had to stop you from making a fool out of yourself. He ducked behind the crates beside her.
You’re worried I’ll die of embarrassment?
Not exactly the cause of death I thought the coroner would list, no. Though I’m thankful you won’t perish from starvation. He gave her a sly look. Judging by the tins of caviar that mysteriously disappeared from my larder.
Sorry. I was going to save them for you. But then I remembered you’re watching your figure. Besides, how do you think I paid for these? She held up both wrists that bore her magic bracelets.
He stifled a chuckle. Apologies. He gestured to the dark leather jacket he wore over a white, button-down shirt. I didn’t realize this event called for formal attire. I feel suddenly underdressed.
Abigail pointed at him. You laugh, but I’m weaponized. She explained how she’d bespelled her jewelry.
Very prudent of you. Good thing you still let me into your thoughts, or I might never have seen through your invisibility spell. And if my senses are correct, we have that, he motioned to her smoky quartz, to thank for the fact the others don’t know we’re here?
Abigail nodded. What with invisibility spells often not being enough—
Especially when someone throws them off on purpose.
Hey, I’m not the only one guilty of that! Abigail protested.
No. You’re just guilty of marching off into certain death.
I never said that! She slapped his arm with the back of her hand. Don’t put words in my mouth.
Hard to cram them in there with all the rest, he muttered in her mind.
I find it difficult to believe I’m in for certain death now that you’re here, she thought. From what I’ve seen, you don’t make a habit of getting into fights you can’t win.
No, but you’re very inspiring in that regard. He adjusted his collar. Abigail almost had to stop herself from trying to adjust it, just to have an excuse to touch him.
She was careful not
to share such thoughts with Titus.
Instead, she folded her arms and gave a smug smile. So, you decided to help even though the only people in danger might be mortals. Not vampires, not witches . . . not even you in particular.
I suppose it was a bit immodest to think Cunningham was singling me out.
Abigail patted Titus’s upper arm, her mind registering the firmness of his biceps. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Modesty isn’t your forte. Maybe I should be more surprised at this sudden attack of altruism.
Yes, well . . . Titus shifted uncomfortably. It comes and goes in waves. Like nausea.
Well, I’m glad I was around to catch one of your waves. Abigail felt her own stomach settle down. Surely they stood a better chance to defeat Cunningham, now that both of them were here. I knew there was goodness in you.
Don’t get too excited. It’s buried pretty deep. Titus motioned to Cunningham and the others, who were still eyeing the horizon impatiently. What did I miss?
Not much. Abigail surveyed the scene with him. Whatever problems these folks had with each other at the clock tower, they seem to have reconciled.
Nothing like a little evildoing to bring people together. He placed one hand on his chest. Almost warms the heart.
Abigail rolled her eyes. Also, Cunningham doesn’t seem to expect us to be here. Or, if she does, she’s not letting on to the others about it.
Any more coming? Titus asked.
Abigail tapped her chin. I don’t think so. The only thing they’re waiting for now is the shipment. Unless there are more of their supernatural cronies on the boat. She bit her lip. I reeeally hope there aren’t.
We must prepare ourselves for every possibility, no matter how remote, Titus said. For the first time, Abigail noticed that his complexion was ruddier, the veins in his face less prominent. He must have fed before he got here, she thought to herself. Although she didn’t envy the person he fed on, at least he came prepared.
Or maybe she did envy them. It almost made her wish Titus had an excuse to drink her blood, though the thought was equal parts chilling and exhilarating. Is it like a kiss? she wondered to herself. She generally preferred kisses that didn’t hurt.
I did overhear them say they managed to get the “emergency supplies,” she thought to him. They’re in the warehouse behind us.
Titus glanced over his shoulder. Did they mention what they were? I was rather hoping it would be explosives or something else we could use to defeat them.
Abigail shook her head. They didn’t say. But there weren’t any weapons in the warehouse that burned down. And I’m under the impression that whatever they gathered tonight was to replace what they lost. Besides, wouldn’t something like weapons be the main shipment, not the extras? What do you think they’re dealing in, if not magical antiquities? She nodded to the docks. Blood diamonds? Drugs?
Haven’t the faintest idea, Titus replied. They watched silently as Cunningham and the others exchanged irritated glances, then frowned at the horizon again. Titus’s face took on a pinched look.
I . . . ah . . . just wanted to say I wasn’t entirely honest before. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Oh? Abigail raised her eyebrows.
You know, if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s timidity. He met her gaze for a moment, then broke it. And the way you risk your life for others, how you don’t run away . . . I do think it is brave. I suppose if it’s part of that caring gene you can’t switch off, I’ll learn to live with it.
Abigail felt her pulse quicken. “Learn to live with it” . . . that sounded like Titus was thinking long-term. Did he mean to be her long-term friend? Ally? Something else? Best to start by getting through tonight alive, Abigail, she told herself.
To Titus, she nodded slowly. Thanks. And I’m sorry I called you a coward. Clearly, if you were, you wouldn’t be here. And I never should have brought up Sabine. That was cruel.
I can’t say you were wrong about my feelings for her. He rubbed the back of his neck. But that’s all in the past.
Abigail nodded again, then sighed. In any case, maybe the apathy and hopelessness you described will bury me, eventually.
A smile played on Titus’s lips. Knowing you—us—like everything else, it’s not going down without a fight. He pushed one fist lightly into his palm. Because maybe you were right. About me. About my raging heart, or whatever you called it.
But enough of this sentimental rubbish. He pointed to where Cunningham and the others were chattering excitedly, now illuminated by a beam of light emerging through the mist. Not far off, a low foghorn sounded, like the groaning of some great beast.
It seems our ship has come in, he thought.
“Finally!” exclaimed Cunningham.
“About bloody time,” grumbled Brandy.
Abigail watched as a large boat—about 150 feet from bow to stern—pulled up to the dock. A wheelhouse sat in the center, like a tiny cottage with horizontal windows on its upper half. Abigail traced the beam of light to the masthead atop the wheelhouse, surrounded by poles and antennae. A diagonal boom stretched from the bottom of the masthead almost to the top. And there was something that looked like an oil rig at the stern; Abigail couldn’t remember what it was called. The whole mess seemed connected with various cables, pulleys, and winches, with a white iron guardrail encircling it. Tarps fluttered against the sides of the boat each time a strong wind blew.
What kind of ship is it? she asked Titus.
He cocked his head. Not sure. Looks like some kind of fishing trawler. See those nets on the sides, next to the tarps?
Abigail’s brow furrowed. They’re here for contraband crustaceans?
Deep-sea treasure, maybe? Titus suggested
Hey! Abigail tugged at Titus’s coat sleeve and pointed. There’s a truck on the ship. Sure enough, a fifty-foot flatbed carrying a metal shipping container was fastened to the deck, between the masthead and the stern. The container looked about ten feet high and twenty feet long. Do fishing boats typically carry trucks? Abigail asked.
If they’re used for commercial fishing, yes, sometimes. Titus narrowed his eyes at the container. But something tells me that’s not the case here.
Before Abigail could ask why, the ship dropped anchor, and two men appeared from the wheelhouse. They lowered the gangway to the dock and stepped off. Both were in their sixties, with untidy gray-white beards and craggy faces. They wore rubber boots over chest-high waders and hooded slickers. One of them had an orange, bulbous nose littered with pockmarks.
“Right, then.” The orange-nosed one walked up to Brandy, appreciatively looking her up and down. Carver gave him a death glare, but the man didn’t seem to notice.
“Hullo there, sweetheart!” he said to Brandy. “You the one they call EC?”
“I am.” Cunningham stepped between the man and Brandy.
“Oh.” His face fell.
“You must be Captain Norris,” she said.
“Erm, yeah. That’s me.” He tore his eyes away from Brandy. “Got your cargo here. Payment on delivery, I was told.” He held out one rough hand, palm up. Cunningham slapped it.
“One, you’re late. Two, I don’t pay for any shipment I haven’t inspected. You.” She snapped her fingers at the second man. “Unload that truck immediately. I want to make sure my goods arrived safely.”
“Oy!” Captain Norris stared in disbelief at his reddened hand. “I don’t know who you think you is, lady, but we don’t take no abuse. And we sure don’t take orders from—”
“From your boss?” Brandy stepped forward. “Like hell you don’t. Now, you have that bloke unload that truck like she said, and maybe me and me boy here won’t knock your gobs off.” Carver cracked his knuckles and curled his upper lip.
Abigail had a feeling that, ordinarily, Captain Norris would love to have a woman like Brandy smack him around. But something about the way she looked at him, the magic in her voice . . . The captain sw
allowed hard and backed away slowly.
“Oy, Charlie, you heard ’em,” he called. “Unload that there truck so we can get paid and get the hell outta here.” The other man swore, but went back onto the ship and lowered a ramp off the side. Captain Norris warily eyed Cunningham and the supernaturals. Charlie unhooked the truck and drove it slowly down the ramp and onto the dock.
That’s odd, Titus thought.
What is?
I hear heartbeats.
Abigail pointed to her chest. Because I’m standing right here.
No, I mean from inside the shipping container.
Abigail covered her mouth with one hand. You mean whatever’s in there is alive? They continued watching silently as Cunningham and the rest stood by the rear of the truck.
Charlie climbed out of the driver’s seat and joined the others. He unlatched the doors to the shipping container and pulled them open. Cunningham and everyone else peered inside.
But the container was at an angle that didn’t allow Titus and Abigail to see its cargo. Abigail tiptoed a few feet over to get a better look. Her foot splashed in a puddle. Carver turned his head sharply in her direction. Titus grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
Are you insane? he thought. Or do you think invisibility and shielding spells protect you from your own foolishness?
I can’t help it, Abigail thought. The suspense is killing me!
You want them to do it instead? Titus motioned to Cunningham and her gang.
Captain Norris grunted at Cunningham. “Satisfied?” he asked.
Cunningham moved her index finger in the air and mouthed as if she was counting something. “Good enough,” she finally replied. Captain Norris shut the container doors.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Sybil pulled two thick envelopes seemingly out of thin air. She handed one to Captain Norris, and one to Charlie; they opened the envelopes and counted the cash inside. “Now,” she eyed them keenly, “you will recall nothing that happened here tonight. You will leave this place. Go home, go to a pub, go get sloshed. I don’t care. But you will forget everything having to do with this shipment and this encounter. Is that clear?”