by Lisa Kessler
She nodded, all her attention on his face. His eyes were swollen and red, and the healthy bronze tan of his skin appeared…faded? “Are you sure you’re okay? You look…sick. Can you get sick?”
“I can’t. Immortal, remember? I’m fine.” He stood up, avoiding her gaze. “We better get moving.”
He went outside to his truck while she locked her house. She peered up at the empty windows of the home that had been in her family for generations, unsure if she’d ever see them again. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the wood door.
Please be with me today, Grandma. Help me make good choices.
Her body flushed with the warmth of unconditional love, reminding her that she was never truly alone. She lifted her head, turned around, and jogged down the stairs to his truck.
When she got inside, Drake gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I don’t want to leave anything unsaid.” He met her eyes. “So whatever happens today, I’ll keep you safe, and tomorrow, I hope you’ll reconsider the future, because I don’t want one without you in it.”
Heat pooled low in her belly, and that song her mother had tucked away in the cedar chest in the attic whispered through her mind. I remember you. She did remember him. Lifetimes ago, she’d loved him, and their souls found each other again. Who was she to say they wouldn’t manage it in future lifetimes?
She placed her hand on his and squeezed. “I’ll watch your back, too, and tomorrow we’ll talk about the future.”
Drake squeezed her hand back and then let go to start the truck. “I’m the immortal one. You just keep yourself out of harm’s way.”
She fastened her seatbelt, wishing a trip to her twin sister’s house was a happy occasion instead of a threat to their lives. She wanted to make things right with Drake, but there wasn’t time now.
First, she’d have to live through today.
…
Drake kept his focus on the road while Heather directed him through the turns leading to her sister’s place. As they got closer, he mentally worked his way down the checklist of his weapons. His gun was holstered onto his calf, his hammer hung from his belt, and the magic button from Department 13 was safely in his pocket along with the root from Miss Bianca.
After his visit with the root doctor last night, he’d met with Agent Henderson from Bale’s team. She’d gone over their plan for extracting Bale, and her second team would go after Ashley and the figurehead. Drake’s only mission was to keep Heather safe while they found Agent Bale.
Damn it, he was fucking dragging.
He’d had many sleepless nights since the Sea Dog sank. This bone-weariness was different. New. Was this mortality? He couldn’t be sure. It’d been lifetimes ago. He’d forgotten what it was like. His reflexes were slow, and he needed to be his most alert today.
At least he had a backup plan. He patted the magic satchel in his pocket. One way or the other, Heather would live to see tomorrow.
Would he?
Fuck. He’d left one thing unsaid earlier. He hadn’t told her that she was the love of his life. This life and all the others. She’d brought light back into his world and he’d be damned if he was going to fade away again. He didn’t want another minute without her in it.
She didn’t want that. So he’d kept that truth tucked in his heart. More than anything, he wanted her to be happy and safe. Today he’d see to the latter.
He ground his teeth, willing his muscles out of lethargy as he opened the truck’s door. “Let’s get this over with.”
Heather nodded, following his lead.
Ashley met them at the front door, propping herself up on a cane. Apparently her magic couldn’t heal the damage his hammer had delivered to her knee. Good to know.
She scanned the area for anyone else and finally ushered them into her home. “Come inside.”
Drake caught Heather’s hand in his. If Ashley thought she was going to separate them, she’d better think again. Ashley locked the door and pointed at the dining room table. “Sit.”
“I’d rather stand.” Drake glanced around the room. “We’re here. Let Bale go.”
Ashley smirked and withdrew a Taser from her jacket pocket. “I make the rules. Now, sit.”
Heather obeyed, her eyes on her twin. “We came alone, Ash. David has nothing to do with this now.”
Drake took the chair beside Heather, his heart pumping hard and fast with adrenaline.
Ashley lumbered across the room, Taser at the ready, and grabbed Heather’s arm, yanking her up from the chair. Drake lunged forward and suddenly had no control over his muscles as electricity shot through his body, paralyzing him.
He sank back into the chair as the jolt faded. His already exhausted body resisted his efforts to regain control of his limbs. He had to do something. His hands trembled on the tabletop. His arms might as well have been tree trunks. He couldn’t lift them.
Heather screamed as Ashley picked up a carving knife from the table. Drake struggled to catch Ashley’s wrist, but it was useless. He was too slow.
Ashley glared at him as she raised the knife. “My ghosts told me you can’t be killed. This should slow you down, though.”
She swung the knife straight down, right through Drake’s right hand and into the oak dining table, pinning him in place. The sharp pain cut through the fog and disorientation of the electrical charge.
They hadn’t found Bale yet, but he didn’t give a shit at the moment. They needed backup. Now. With his free hand, he slid his shaky fingers into his pocket, pressing the button from Department 13. All he could do now was pray they got here fast.
Ashley started to pull Heather toward the door, and Heather slammed her shoulder into Ashley’s chest, knocking her off-balance. Heather spun around and managed three steps toward Drake before the end of Ashley’s cane struck the back of her head. Heather collapsed onto the carpet.
“Leave her alone!” he shouted.
Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, pirate. I’m not going to kill her. In fact, I need her alive for this to work.”
She whispered something under her breath and suddenly they were both gone. His ears popped.
“Fuck!” Drake grunted as he pulled the knife free and dropped it on the table. The blur spell would’ve bought Ashley time, but how much?
He ducked into the kitchen, wrapping a towel around his bleeding hand on his way to the garage. Behind him the front door burst open.
“Put down your weapons.”
“You’re too fucking late!” Drake yelled from the empty garage. “She took her.” He rushed out, shoving the agents aside to see the driveway. His truck was the only vehicle. “Damn it!”
“Where’s Agent Bale?”
He almost didn’t recognize Agent Henderson in her riot gear. “Hell if I know. He’s here someplace. I’m going after Heather. When you find Bale, ask him if Ashley told him anything. I’ll check Heather’s house.”
His hand throbbed, but he managed to get inside his truck and start it. Since drinking from the cup he’d been injured a few times, and the pain, while intense, always vanished rapidly as his body healed. This wasn’t getting any better. He glared at his hand and tightened the knot on the towel. There wasn’t time to inspect the wound.
Right now, finding Heather was all that mattered.
…
The basement door exploded inward, shooting splinters of wood down the stairs. David breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Agent Henderson descending the stairs. She lowered her weapon and rushed to slice the duct tape off of his ankles and knees.
“How’d you find me?” He grunted.
“The pirate. He contacted King and we gave him a GPS tracker.”
David turned so she could cut his wrists free. His shoulders ached, but having his hands in front of him again was a relief. “Where’s Drake now? Is H
eather safe?”
Agent Henderson straightened to her full height. “Ashley took her sister. He’s trying to find them.”
“Damn it. Call the Port Authority and have them close all the docks along the Savannah River.” David grabbed his pen, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and pulled out his cell phone to call Drake.
He skimmed the numbers, his heart sinking. He didn’t have the pirate’s number. He pressed Kingsley’s number and waited.
“Yes?”
“Hey, King. I need Drake’s number. He called the office, right? Do you have the caller ID?”
“Of course.” After a few keyboard clicks, he texted the number to David’s cell phone. “See you soon, Agent Bale.”
David paced the basement floor, listening to the pirate’s phone ring. “Pick up. Pick up. Damn it!”
Drake answered. “Bale, where’s she taking Heather?”
“It’s not that simple.” David froze in place, meeting Agent Henderson’s gaze. “Ashley is the figurehead.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
David brought his free hand up to rub the back of his neck. “She claimed she made a deal with Davy Jones, and he’s calling in his marker.”
Drake was so quiet David started to think the call dropped. When he finally spoke, his voice was a feral hiss.
“She wants to send Heather down to the depths in her place.” He cursed under his breath. “Over my dead fucking body.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Heather woke up in the bow of a boat, squinting as the bright sun assaulted her face. Her lips burned, already beginning to crack as she wet them. Where was she? The harsh wind and the spray of saltwater as the boat rocked gave her part of the answer.
Ashley sat at the other end of the small vessel, her hand gripping the handle of the outboard motor as they flew over the whitecaps. “Welcome back, sis. Sorry I didn’t have time to grab your hat.”
Where was Drake? The last thing she remembered was seeing him pinned to the table with a knife. No doubt he was free now. Ashley’s magic probably gave them a head start.
She struggled to sit up. Her arms were bound behind her with what felt like duct tape. Adrenaline laced her bloodstream with almost as much force as the wind whipping her hair around her face.
“Why are we out here, Ash?” Heather shouted over the roar of the engine.
Ashley choked the outboard motor, slowing the boat. “For whatever it’s worth, I tried everything I could think of to avoid this.”
“Avoid what?”
Ashley checked the horizon and then the depth-finder radar. “I think this is close enough.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Water surrounded them for miles on every side. No sign of land. Even if her hands weren’t tied behind her back, Heather wouldn’t know which way to swim if she escaped.
“No, we’re not.” She lifted her head, meeting Heather’s eyes. “We’re right where I died.”
Heather blinked, sure she misheard. “Where you what?”
“The fishing trip with Dad, remember? I fell overboard that day and hit my head on the way. If I’d been wearing the life vest, maybe things would’ve been different.” Ashley clasped her hands together in her lap. “In a few minutes, none of this will matter, so you might as well know the truth. That was the day I made a deal with Davy Jones.”
That was also the day her relationship with her twin fractured. Ashley had never been the same after their father died. Heather had always chalked it up to grief or jealousy, but she’d been wrong. Maybe it had to do with making a deal with a demon of the sea.
“You were only fifteen.” Heather had never wanted to rub her temples more in her whole life. “You’re telling me you’ve had the figurehead hidden for fifteen years without any of us finding out?”
“Not exactly.” She tucked her dark hair behind her ear. “He bonded us. I’m one with it.”
Heather shook her head. “How is that possible?”
“The Flying Dutchman is real, sis. It’s a massive ship that requires thousands of souls to power it. When I realized where I was, Dad had already jumped into the water, splashing around, searching for me. I was too young to die, so I made a deal.”
A sick pit formed in Heather’s stomach. “You traded our father’s life to save your own?”
“I was only fifteen. Dad was nearing retirement anyway. I needed more time.”
“You doomed his soul to be trapped on that ship! That’s why I never hear his voice.” Heather ached to shake her twin. Rage roared through her entire body. Ashley killed their father. Everything everyone had been saying about her sister was true. Heather twisted her hands behind her back. The tight adhesive burned her skin. She hardly noticed. “So am I next? Will my soul buy you more time?”
“I know you won’t believe me, but I did try to keep you out of this.” Ashley spoke as she removed her jacket and tied it around her waist. “That night in the Bonaventure Cemetery when I saw you with Drake, I thought maybe I could give Davy Jones a big strong man in my place. It would just be a perk that it would leave you brokenhearted. How could I have known his soul wasn’t up for grabs? Leave it to you to fall in love with an immortal guy.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, meeting Heather’s eyes. “Then I formed an entire coven of witches searching for someone strong enough to take the figurehead from me. None of them were a match, either. Then I figured it out. You’re my twin. You’re the only one who can take it back to the Flying Dutchman in my place.”
Keep her talking, angel.
It was her grandmother’s voice, followed by Ella Fitzgerald crooning “I Remember You.” Drake. He must be coming for her. She needed to buy some more time.
“If you were trying to keep me out of this, why pretend to be my friend? Why did you make up Queenie?”
“It was a joke at first. I warned you about playing those online games, and I had planned to gain your trust and hack your computer just to show you how easy it is. But”—she shrugged, tightening the knot in the jacket around her waist—“I didn’t expect to enjoy being your friend.” Her gaze locked on Heather’s. “It’s been a long time since you and I were on the same team.”
A familiar pang tugged at Heather’s heart. She loved Ashley. She always had. For years she’d wanted nothing more than her sister’s friendship.
This wasn’t it. This was manipulation.
Heather shook her head slowly, forcing rational thought to rein in her emotions. “I’ve been defending you for weeks. Even when others told me what you’d done, I believed in you. I’m through, Ash. You’ve been hurting people I care about, and you brought me out here to dump me in the ocean. We haven’t been on the ‘same team’ since we were kids.” Her eyes blurred with tears, but her voice was steady. “I was stupid to believe my sister was still inside you. She died the day you sacrificed our father to Davy Jones.”
Ashley stiffened. “Believe whatever you want. I don’t regret being Queenie.”
“If that were true, I wouldn’t be sitting in this boat, burning in the sun, with my arms taped behind my back.” Heather kept wringing her hands; her sweat was weakening the adhesive, but not fast enough. “Queenie was my only friend.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “That’s bullshit. I was there, remember? You told me about all the Sea Dog crew, and every day that passed you were online less and less. You took our friendship for granted the second Drake came into your life. You abandoned Queenie for these people you just met.” Ashley stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Time for you to take the figurehead back to the Flying Dutchman.”
Heather frowned, scanning the boat. Where was it? Other than the two of them and Ashley’s tote, there was nothing else in the boat. And a ship’s figurehead was huge. She focused on her sister again. “There’s nothing here, Ash.”
Ashley’s lip
s curved into a tight smile, and darkness radiated from her stare. “You’re wrong.” Her eyes rolled back in her head, the whites glowing red as she opened her mouth. All the life drained from her skin, taking her coloring with it. Her features hardened until she resembled an ivory statue more than a woman.
Her jaw dropped, her lips parting to make a perfect O shape, and the sound that assaulted Heather’s ears was far from human. A banshee wail. Heather shrieked as well, unable to cover her ears from the assault. The hands of doomed souls reached up through the surface of the Atlantic, swiping the air, reaching blindly for her.
Ghosts dragged themselves into the tiny boat, the cacophony of voices all at once deafening Heather’s senses, overwhelming her. In spite of the sun, her burning skin prickled with goose bumps as the dead gripped her arms, holding her steady while her sister’s aura glowed a deep crimson. The glow spread, reaching out from Ashley’s body.
Ashley and the figurehead were one. Davy Jones had bonded them.
Heather gasped when their father climbed aboard the boat, his murky eyes lined in sorrow. “I’ve missed you. Breathe in the power of the Dutchman’s figurehead and we’ll be together forever.”
“Daddy?” Heather shrank back, struggling to silence the screams of thousands of lost souls. “She’s hurting me.”
He came closer. “Stop fighting. It doesn’t have to hurt. Once the figurehead possesses your body, you’ll live forever with me.”
She just wanted the shrieking to end. She closed her eyes, and music drowned out the pained screams. I remember you. Images of Drake filled her head both from this lifetime, and the previous with Lucy, and another, and another. Lifetimes. Before he was Drake, before she was Lucy, their souls always found each other. Again and again.
He’d never find her at the bottom of the ocean. Davy Jones would end their legacy.
Heather clenched her teeth and opened her eyes. “No.”
The ghost of her father took a step back. “She won’t stop.”
Something shone in the shadowy depths of his eyes that contradicted his words. Hope.