by Lisa Kessler
Great work, Heather. Keep Ashley there as long as you can. I’ll let you know when we’re clear.
Her eyes widened as she hurried to text back.
She turned me down. Don’t go in there. She’s still home, David.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Heather whispered to her phone.
David answered.
No one is here.
Heather frowned. She had called Ashley’s cell phone, so she could have been out, but… Heather rubbed her forehead. Didn’t Ashley mention being in bed? Heather couldn’t be sure now. Maybe she just assumed it.
It didn’t matter, not really. If Ashley wasn’t home, then David and his team could search for the figurehead, and this would all be over soon.
She set her phone on the end table and lay across the sofa. Less than an hour ago, she’d been lost in Drake’s arms, making love like the rest of the world didn’t exist. But now that the heat had faded, dread wandered in.
Her decision not to drink from the Grail, and the ramifications of that choice, soaked into her consciousness like summer rain on parched earth. She would grow old and die, and Drake would be unchanged and left behind. Her chest constricted as she stared at the ceiling and blinked away tears.
There would never be a happy ending for them. Not in the end. No crossing over together. No reuniting on the other side. Drake would be in Savannah. Forever.
He’d already carried the grief for his nephew for two centuries. How could she saddle him with more?
All her fantasies about their souls finding a new ending this time were just that, fantasies. She wiped the tear from her cheek. It wasn’t fair to either of them, and the more time they spent together, the more she wanted. Once she got things straightened out with her sister and David locked away the figurehead, she needed to get real.
After all that talk about how David broke her heart by walking away, was she seriously thinking about doing the same to Drake? This was different. She wouldn’t just vanish from Drake’s life without a word. She’d explain herself first. Their predicament was the opposite of David’s. David claimed to be protecting her from unknown threats. There was nothing unknown about this situation. She knew how this story would end. Death would come for her eventually; there was no way around it.
And if she truly loved Drake, how could she ask him to watch her wither and fade away while he was left behind? She could spare him this.
If she was strong enough.
The door opened, scattering her thoughts. Drake closed and locked it, releasing a groan of relief. “Thank the gods you’re all right.”
She straightened, frowning. “You found someone outside?”
“More than one, love.”
He crossed the room in a few wide strides and sat beside her. “One of Bale’s cleanup crews will be here soon. The Serpent Society was here for your sister. I got one of them, but the others are gone.”
“Why would they come to my house looking for my sister?”
His blue eyes locked on hers. “Because she was here. Right outside.”
“What? No.” Heather blinked, struggling to wrap her brain around this new information. “I called her and she wouldn’t come over.”
“And I heard her telling you that while I was looking for Greyson. She was here,” Drake said. “The men in black robes must’ve overheard the conversation, too, because they made a grab for her.”
“But she’s okay?”
“Aye.” He nodded slowly. “She got away.”
Heather shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why would she lie to me about being here?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”
Heather swallowed a lump in her throat, her confidence that her sister would never hurt her wavering. “Do you think she saw us earlier?”
“I’m not sure, but whatever brought her over here, she didn’t want you to know about it.” He took her hand. “At least she can see the danger from the Serpent Society is real now.”
“Maybe now she’ll let me help her.”
Thomas materialized in her peripheral vision with his arms crossed, shaking his head. Heather sighed. Even the dead believed her sister was beyond redemption. But Ashley was her only family left.
She had to try.
…
“Damn it!” David wiped the sweat from his face. “It’s not here.”
The shed behind Ashley Storrey’s home had a few tools of the trade for magic workers—eagle feathers, sage, candles, a pentagram throw, and all sorts of crystals, but no sign of a wooden figurehead from a legendary ship. Hell, maybe it wasn’t even made of wood, for all he knew.
The garage door hinges squealed. “She’s back. Everyone out.”
Without a sound, the team cleared the space, and David replaced the lock. Carefully, he bent down and removed the shamanic talisman from the door. Department 13’s dark magic division would be thrilled to hear their trinket worked. The talisman was shaped like a bat, and its charmed wings kept Ashley’s magical wards intact, allowing his team to pass through undetected.
Or at least he thought it had. Ashley was already back, so maybe the new tool hadn’t succeeded as much as he thought. He needed to find out.
He turned to the team. “Get out of here. I’ll meet you back at headquarters.”
David took a handkerchief from his suit-coat pocket and dabbed his face again as he made his way around the house. His team had freshly oiled the side gate when they came in, so he didn’t have to worry about squeaking hinges alerting her to his presence.
Once he was out of the yard, he peered into the garage window. The car sat alone. Good. He straightened his coat and went to the front door. He rang the bell and waited. Nothing. He knocked. Still no response. Damn it. He banged on the door again.
“This is Agent Bale. I need to speak with you, Ms. Storrey. It’s urgent.”
Seconds ticked by. He tried the knob. Locked. She could be sneaking out the back door right now. He dug his hand into the pocket of his pants and withdrew his lock-picking kit.
“I was called here for a welfare check. I’m coming in.” All lies, but it covered his ass either way. Being part of a top secret division of the government didn’t make him immune from the rule of law.
He opened the door and stepped inside. “Ashley?”
“Get the fuck out of my house or I’m calling the police.”
“I am the police.” Not exactly, but he did have a badge. He followed the sound of her voice and found her in the spacious white living room, sprawled on her couch. Blood soaked through her pant leg on the side of her knee. “You’re injured.”
“Great detecting, officer. I fell down earlier. Happy?” She glared up at him, and again the resemblance to Heather was striking. “I know you were the one snooping in my yard, and you work with my sister. I could pick up the phone right now and have you arrested.”
“You could try.” He glanced at her cell phone over on the coffee table. “But I’m pretty sure I could get to that phone before you.”
She lifted her hand, and he bolted forward, catching her wrist before she could finish reciting the spell. “No blur spells. We need to talk.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have anything I want.”
He tightened his grip until she flinched. “That figurehead is going to get you killed.”
Her eyes widened, and he forced himself to release her. This was the woman who headed up the Digi Robins. She was the reason his great-great nephew was dead. But revenge wasn’t going to bring him back.
David needed to play this by the book. He couldn’t allow his emotions to get the better of him. Vengeance might feel good for a moment, but he had a job to do, a higher calling.
She rubbed her wrist. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m tough to kill.”
David sighed. She was tap dancing a
ll over his last nerve. “Look, I already have the proof I need to arrest you for grand larceny. You can either work with us, or we put you away for being the ringleader of the Digi Robins. The choice is yours.”
“No thanks.” She pushed herself up on the couch. “I’m not much of a team player anyway, and if you really are a government agent, then you need a warrant to arrest me in my own house.” Her gaze slid all the way down his body and back up again. “Honestly, you’re pretty to look at, but I have no clue what my sister saw in you.”
David blinked. Heather had never mentioned her twin sister to him. It never occurred to him that she would’ve discussed their relationship with her sister. His surprise must’ve shown on his face before he could bury it because she cocked a brow.
“You didn’t know she told me.” She shook her head. “You’re lucky she’s so forgiving. You abandoned her, and yet she still helps you when you call.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’d kill you.”
He shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first to try.” The posturing was getting him nowhere. “I can protect you from the Serpent Society.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“Judging by the bloody scene back at your sister’s place, I’d say you do. If Drake hadn’t killed one of them, you’d be at their mercy right now.”
“Bullshit.” Her eyes sparked with defiance. “My magic is all the protection I need.”
“They have religious relics that your magic can’t touch.” He jerked his tie loose and popped the top couple buttons on his shirt.
She raised a brow. “Is it hot in here?”
He ignored her and pulled his shirt open to expose the scar over his heart. “They put this S on my chest and nearly took my heart. Magic kept me from dying, but it couldn’t protect me from them. And it won’t protect you, either.”
He buttoned his shirt again. “Give me the figurehead, and I can keep you safe.”
She smirked. “Did you honestly believe it would be so simple? It wasn’t in my shed, was it? Maybe it doesn’t even exist.” Her attempt at an innocent smile made him clench his fists to keep from jerking her right off the sofa.
“I don’t have time for games. The next time I see you, I’ll have a warrant handy.”
He slammed the door behind him as he left, then pulled out his cell phone as he walked to his car. “Kingsley? I’m going to need a warrant for Ashley Storrey. We’re not working with her. Her ass is going to jail if the Serpents don’t get her first.”
“Sounds like she knackered you.”
“If that’s British for pissed me off, then yes. I’m finished dancing around with her. We need the figurehead, and she can rot in a cell. I’m not cutting a deal on this one.”
He ended the call and got in his car, taking out some of his frustration by pounding his hand on the steering wheel. There had to be a piece of the puzzle he was missing.
Heather would be a good place to start.
Chapter Twenty-One
Drake checked the address again. This was the place. He peered through the passenger window of his truck, at the tiny white cottage with faded haint-blue shutters that matched the ceiling of the porch. A worn sign read Hand-dipped Candles. Spanish moss hung like thick spider webs from the drooping branches of the ancient live oak trees surrounding the property.
A bead of sweat rolled down his back as he parked on the side of the dirt road and got out of the truck. Heather wouldn’t drink from the Grail. He accepted her decision. If anyone understood the isolation that immortality could bring, it was him.
Last night still had him rattled. After discovering the Serpent Society so close to Heather’s house, and knowing her sister had been lurking outside the window left him desperate to protect her, and if she wouldn’t accept a sip from the Holy Grail, he had to find another option. There had to be a way he could save her without making her immortal. He could honor her wishes and still save her from the storm that was coming.
He’d heard stories about the root doctors since the first time they docked in Savannah, but he’d never needed one. Until now. According to Greyson, the candle shop was only a small part of Miss Bianca’s business.
Drake hadn’t asked Greyson if he’d used her services before. It was possible the gunner heard rumors about the place without ever visiting. In the late 1950s, when people started to get litigious, the low country root doctors retreated into the shadows of Savannah.
But the magic was far from dead.
The problem was finding a practitioner willing to work with him. Drake wiped his brow and knocked on the door. A lace curtain fluttered out of the corner of his eye, but the window was empty by the time he turned.
No one answered.
He banged on it again. “A friend sent me. I’m looking for Miss Bianca.”
Nothing. Fuck.
He headed for the truck. This was a long shot anyway.
Hinges squeaked behind him. “Who are you?”
He froze. “Drake Cole,” he said without turning around. “My friend said I could find Miss Bianca here.”
“You want a spell candle?”
“Something like that. He told me Miss Bianca was a gifted root doctor.” Drake slowly pivoted around.
“Then he told you wrong.”
The African-American woman standing in the doorway looked to be in her twenties, maybe thirty, but he doubted it. Her long, thin braids cascaded over her shoulders, her jeans sat low on her hips, and her Scallywags concert tank almost made him smile. Apparently, she was a fan of Keegan’s rock band. The crew’s pilot fronted a Southern rock band in this lifetime and they had a strong following with the locals in Savannah.
“Sorry for the trouble. I must’ve misunderstood Greyson.” He turned to go.
“Wait.” She cleared her throat. “No reason you can’t look at the candles.”
Couldn’t hurt. Maybe he could win her trust and she’d introduce him to Miss Bianca.
Drake followed her inside the house. Expecting some kind of eccentric den, he was surprised at the neat storefront of Miss Bianca’s shop. Unlike the faded exterior, the interior had been recently painted, and one of those flat tablet cash registers like Bob’s new one at the restaurant sat on the counter. Candles lined the shelves on one wall, and the other was full of glass containers with herbs and remedies he hadn’t seen for over a hundred years. Greyson was right. This was the place.
Now he just needed to find Miss Bianca.
He glanced at the woman beside him. “I told you my name. I didn’t catch yours.”
Her thick accent made it clear she was a native Savannahian. “People round here call me Miss Bianca.”
Drake coughed, choking on his surprise. This woman looked nothing like the hoodoo priestesses in the movies.
She raised a brow. “Not what you were expecting?”
“Just thought you’d be…older.”
“Doesn’t take age to work magic. Transference of power and training. When Mother Lorenda passed, her mantle fell to me.” She gestured to the herbs. “What kind of spell are you after?”
“Why are you willing to help me now?”
She brushed her braids behind her shoulder. “Greyson is a friend. If you know him, that’s good enough for me.”
“Thank you.” Drake skimmed the names on the glass bottles like he might recognize a potion. “I need something that will heal any wound, even bring someone back from the other side if they need it.” He searched her eyes and quickly added, “I’m not asking for immorality, just a second chance at living.”
She crossed her arms. “Dark magic carries a heavy cost.”
He pulled out a few gold doubloons from his pocket. “There’s more where this came from.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Shaking her head, she took the gold and whispered, “The Loas like to barter, and a mortal life will come at a high pri
ce.”
“I’ll do anything to save her.”
She slipped the coins into her jeans and went to the wall of herbs. “Come back tomorrow night. I’ll know their demands by then.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Look, most people come to me for love and money spells. I’m afraid this could end up costing you more than you’re ready to sacrifice.”
Drake shook his head. “I’d die for her.”
He was halfway out the door when she answered, “You might have to.”
…
Heather paced the length of her living room, arguing silently with her dead grandmother about her very alive twin sister. Ashley was due to arrive any minute, but that didn’t stop their grandmother from trying to get Heather to leave the house. If only Queenie were around, a few rounds of Skull & Crossbones would take the edge off, or at least help Heather ignore the pushy spirit.
A knock on the front door froze her in her tracks. Heather took a deep breath and reached for the handle. Her eyes widened. “Greyson?”
“Aye.” He grinned, tipping his black baseball cap. “Drake asked me to stay close during your meeting. Just wanted you to know I’m here if you need me.”
“My sister is not going to hurt me,” she said much louder than she intended to, but between her dead grandmother and Drake’s lecture about not trusting her own flesh and blood, her patience was wearing thin.
Greyson popped his hands up in mock surrender. “Didn’t say she was, lass. I’m doing my job, that’s all. If anything goes sideways, give me a sign and I’ll be here.”
“Thank you.” She straightened her top. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He turned on his heel and jogged down the stairs, seemingly not affected by her uncharacteristic flare of anger. She closed the door and went into the kitchen for a lemonade. As she bent to look in the fridge, a tap on the window of the back door made her gasp.
Ashley was outside.
Heather frowned and opened the door. “Why are you—?”
“I can’t stay long.” Her gaze darted past Heather, toward the living room. “Is Drake here?”
“Drake? How do you know—?”