by Lisa Kessler
“What the hell are you doing?” Chris asked.
“I’m not dying in here,” she grunted as she pointed her toes, stretching her feet up toward the beam over her head.
With a final burst of effort, she caught one ankle over the thick oak beam. A charley horse in her calf stole her scream, the sudden sharp pain almost making her lose her grip.
“You’re going to dislocate your shoulders when your legs drop from there,” Chris warned, but she blotted out his voice, focusing all her attention on getting her other leg up around the beam.
Her chest heaved, her lungs aching for more oxygen to fuel her muscles. Time was running out. She pressed her lips together and tried one last time. Her foot caught around the other and instantly the weight lifted off of her wrists as her legs took on the burden.
She didn’t have time to enjoy the relief. Quickly she unhooked her duct-taped wrists from the large hook and gnawed at the tape. If she could get her hands free, she could grab the beam and dangle her legs down for a short drop back onto the bucket.
If she couldn’t, she’d fall onto her head soon enough.
The tape finally started to tear, and a welcome burst of adrenaline entered her oxygen-depleted bloodstream. She wriggled one hand free and reached up to grab the beam. Hugging the beam with her arms and legs, she panted for air that wasn’t coming as the room began to spin.
If she passed out up here it was over.
She allowed her feet to unclasp from the beam, but her muscle control was nonexistent. Her legs fell like a rag doll, her feet knocking the bucket over. Her hands weren’t strong enough to hold her weight, and she dropped with a heavy thump, like a net full of shrimp on the deck of a boat.
Pain shot up from her ankle, keeping the alluring whisper of sleep away. She looked up at Chris, but his eyes were closed, body still. His stomach still moved with short and shallow breaths. He was alive for now.
I have to find a door or we’re both dead.
Chapter Twenty-Three
John facilitated the rendezvous with Trumain. The historian was expecting David to deliver the box from Department 13’s vault, and Trumain would provide the location of the hostages. Trumain set the meeting point at Forsyth Park, one of the busiest tourist spots in Savannah, so they couldn’t go in guns blazing.
David arranged for Agent Henderson to attend in his place. Aura Henderson was a weapons expert and specialized in undercover ops for Department 13. With Pandora’s box still safely locked in the vault, her objective would be to convince Trumain to accompany her to the unmarked van to retrieve the relic, where she’d overpower him and force him to reveal the location of his hostages.
In the meantime, at the urging of David’s long-dead brother, Heather led the way through the dark graveyard, past silent marble sentinels guarding long-forgotten resting places. Finally, she stopped near a pyramid-shaped crypt with weathered iron doors.
“They’re telling me the people you’re looking for are in a vault like this one.”
David drew his firearm, signaling her to get behind him. “Good. I’ll take it from here.”
A new padlock connected the doors, sealing the opening. He tapped on the solid metal, listening for any signs of life inside.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, frowning when Agent Henderson’s name lit the screen. “Aura? Do you have a location?”
“No, sir.” Her voice was tight and controlled. “Trumain showed up with the Hourglass of Kronos.”
David closed his eyes, shaking his head. The Serpent Society had a warehouse of their own, but he didn’t realize they had a relic that could bend time. “Shit. You think he’s headed this way?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” she replied. “He turned the Hourglass, and when time started again, he was gone. I didn’t see which direction he went, but his hostages are no use to him dead, sir.”
David would have come to the same conclusion if his head were in the game. Instead his heart was running this show. Dangerous. “Meet me at the Bonaventure Cemetery. There’s a better-than-average chance the Sea Dog crew is already here, too, although I haven’t seen them yet. Watch your back, and if Trumain shows up, we’ll catch him and grab the Hourglass before he can use it again.”
He ended the call and looked up, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the area. Damn it. Heather was gone.
…
John squeezed through the tight opening they’d managed to uncover. The slab was heavier than it looked. He clicked the light on his phone and ventured down the weathered, uneven brick steps, farther into the darkness, with Keegan close behind.
Drake stayed behind, watching for Bale, or Trumain, or the groundskeeper. If anyone noticed them and called the sheriff, it could fuck up the plan as quickly as a surprise visit from the Serpent Society.
At the bottom of the stairs, they continued along a narrow pathway filled with stale air. With each step, John’s hope faded. If this was the wrong underground vault, and they had to break into another one, the lost time could cost Harmony’s life.
Keegan grabbed John’s arm, turning him around. He had his phone in his other hand. “Char says this is it. We’re in the right place.”
Relief swamped John’s tense muscles. “Did she see Harmony? Is she all right?”
“Aye, she saw her.” Keegan lifted his gaze to John’s face as he pocketed the phone. “Your thief got herself free, but she must’ve fallen. We need to hurry. Char said she’s unconscious.”
“Fuck.” John faced forward again, running along the path until he came to a set of solid iron doors. “Damn it.” He banged on the cold metal. “Harmony!”
No reply.
Keegan pulled John back a couple steps. “Let me have a look at the lock.”
John held the light while Keegan took out his lock-picking tools. Their ship’s pilot was also a master at breaking and entering. While Keegan worked at coaxing the rusted lock to turn, John shifted the knapsack on his shoulder. As long as Harmony was still breathing, he could save her, heal her with the Lord’s cup, but if they were too late…he didn’t want to think about it.
Keegan grinned as the lock twisted. “We’re in.”
John grabbed at the seam, tugging at the heavy door. Keegan joined in to help as the hinges screeched in protest. Gradually, the door inched open. The second he could squeeze through, John rushed into the dimly lit chapel.
Harmony lay motionless on the floor. John knelt beside her, drawing her into his arms. With his ear near her lips, he listened for her breathing. It was faint and shallow, but present. He dug into the knapsack with his free hand, reaching for the Grail, but Keegan gripped his arm.
“This isn’t the way to do it, mate.”
John jerked away from Keegan’s grasp. “She’s dying. I have no choice.”
“And yer not givin’ her one, either. Forever is a long time for her to hate you if eternal life isn’t her wish.” Keegan bent down, helping John lift her. “Come on, let’s get her out into the fresh air.”
John scooped Harmony into his arms. Cradling her against his chest, he tipped his head back toward the chapel. “Can you cut down her friend? See if he’s still breathing.”
“Aye,” Keegan replied.
John hurried up the pathway to the stairs, stopping as he reached the top. Drake wasn’t alone. He was talking to a pale woman. In the moonlight, it seemed he stood with…a ghost? Both of them turned, and Drake hustled over. “Is she still—”
“Breathing? Aye.” He knelt on the ground, keeping her safe in his arms. In the dim moonlight, it was impossible to tell if color was returning to her cheeks. He kissed her forehead. “I have the cup.”
Drake frowned. “Yer not going to—”
“Keegan convinced me not to, but…” His words died off as the ghost approached.
“I’m Heather Storrey. I’m friends with Agent Bale.”
This was no ghost. John kept his eyes on Harmony, but he’d heard tales about the albino woman. She was a
gifted medium, conversing with the dead for bereaved loved ones.
“What are you doing here?” John asked without looking in her direction.
“David, I mean, Agent Bale is in danger.” She knelt down on the other side of Harmony. John glanced up, and Heather’s ice blue eyes locked on his. “I’m trying to protect him.”
John shook his head. “If you’re looking for our help, my hands are full.”
“The dead here have told me they knew you?” She frowned. “But they’ve been gone for…”
“A long fucking time.” Damn it. He didn’t have time for this. His nautical accent bled into his voice. “Yer asking the wrong pirate for help, lass. Agent Bale can handle himself.”
Keegan came up from the chapel, carrying Harmony’s Digi Robins partner over his shoulder. Drake helped him lay the man on the ground.
Heather looked over her shoulder at them and then back to John. “Please. You have to believe me. That man you just saved over there will be Agent Bale’s undoing.”
“And why should I care?” John blurted out.
She searched John’s eyes, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Because you know what it’s like to be willing to sacrifice everything to save someone you love.”
A cold chill crept up his back. “How would you know that?”
“Because you never wanted to join the King’s navy. You hated the water.” Her eyes were distant, lost in a conversation only she could hear. “But your mother was sick.”
There was no way in the godforsaken world this ethereal-looking woman could have known any of that. His eyes widened. “She’s here.”
Heather nodded slowly. “She never got to tell you that she was proud of you, of the man you became.”
He blinked hard, staring down at Harmony. “What does this have to do with Agent Bale?”
She pointed to Harmony’s unconscious friend. “That man has made a deal with the darkness. David thinks he can save him, but the spirits are telling me he’s too far gone.”
John cursed under his breath. He’d hoped that after they returned Pandora’s box, they might be rid of Agent Bale. If his crew harmed that kid, Agent Bale would be stuck to John’s ass like a barnacle on the hull of the Sea Dog.
He looked over at Drake and Keegan. “Get him back to your truck. We’ll take him to a hospital.”
“No one is going anywhere.” Agent Bale cocked his Glock, aiming the barrel at Harmony’s chest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Heather stood up, stepping around Harmony. “David, don’t do this.”
Her words still haunted John. He made a habit of shying away from sifting through memories of the past. It was too easy to get lost there. But hearing the medium share facts only his mother could have known unsettled him.
Bale shook his head. “Stay out of this, Heather. You’ve done enough already.”
Drake strode forward, leaving the unconscious man with Keegan. He stopped beside the medium, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “She came to us because she’s worried about you, mate.”
“I’m not your mate.” A muscle clenched in Bale’s cheek.
Tension snapped in the air around them. John started to slide his hand down toward his boot, reaching for his dagger, but the moment his fingertips slid over the handle, he hesitated. Bale was protecting his own, just like John would.
But if Bale thought John was going to stand by and allow him to hurt Harmony, the government agent was sorely mistaken. John kept his voice low and controlled. “Put the gun down, Bale. If you want the boy, he’s all yours.”
“It’s too late for Chris.” Heather came forward. “David, please. He’ll pull you down with him.”
Bale holstered his weapon, walking past her to his descendant. “I can heal him.”
Her worried eyes met John’s, pleading, but before John could say anything, Harmony coughed.
John stroked her cheek. “That’s it, love. Get the poison out of yer lungs.”
She blinked, looking up at him. “You found me.”
“Aye.” He glanced at the others and back to her face. “But we’re not out of the tempest yet.”
Bale knelt beside his kin and checked for a heartbeat. “His pulse is weak, but he’s alive.”
John helped Harmony to her feet, eager to put some distance between her and Agent Bale. “We need to get out of here.”
She nodded, hooking her arm around his shoulders.
They got about ten feet before Trumain stepped out of the shadows, blocking their exit with his pistol at the ready. “Everyone, freeze.”
…
“Seriously?” David glanced over his shoulder at the historian-turned-Serpent-Society-member. “If you kill me, you’ll never see that box.”
Trumain raised a brow. “You think I don’t know that?” He turned, pointing the barrel at the medium’s chest. “But I could kill her. Are you willing to let her die?”
David’s pulse surged. Where the hell was Agent Henderson?
The ship’s carpenter surprised David by stepping in front of Heather, blocking Trumain’s shot. “Leave her out of this, Trumain.”
“Easy to be noble when you know a bullet can’t kill you, right, pirate?” He pointed the gun down at Chris, where he still lay on the ground. “Maybe I’ll just put the would-be thief out of his misery instead.”
Chris coughed and rolled on his side, dry heaving. At least he was still alive. The trick would be to keep him that way.
“Wait.” David patted his coat for his backup plan. He withdrew the crystal with the rune carved into the pointed end. He offered it to Trumain, twisting it slowly, hoping the moonlight might sparkle inside. “This Norse rune is one of a kind. You can hold it until I deliver the box. Put away the gun and it’s yours.”
Trumain didn’t lower his weapon, but he also didn’t fire. “What does it do?”
“It has healing powers.” David glanced over at John. The boatswain was bending over, his fingers sliding into the top of his boot. David hoped he had a weapon stashed inside. He flicked his attention back to Trumain. “This crystal heals every bit as quickly as the Holy Grail.”
“The Serpent Society isn’t interested in a Norse relic. There’s no connection to Eden there.” He adjusted his grip on the handgun. “I need the box.”
David lifted a brow, still twisting the crystal in the moonlight. “Last time I checked, Pandora’s box isn’t connected to Eden, either.”
“True.” Trumain’s gaze remained intent on the rune. “But after I open Pandora’s box, we can bring about the final judgment day and present the divine relics we’ve reclaimed at God’s feet.”
“Pretty big risk.” Movement caught David’s eye. Someone ran through the shadows behind Trumain. If luck was on his side, it was Agent Henderson.
He didn’t want to think about who it might be if fate didn’t smile on him tonight.
David focused on Trumain again, relieved to hear Chris groaning behind him. If David could delay Trumain a little longer, maybe Agent Henderson could take a shot. She was the best sharpshooter in all of Department 13. She just needed time.
“If you open that box, you’ll destroy this world without any confirmation that God is going to welcome you home.” David kept his voice even, calming. “This rune could grant you and your friends immortality. You could live long enough to see the Second Coming without unleashing the world’s evils.”
Trumain started to reach for the crystal, but before David realized what was happening, Chris snatched it from his hand.
“Wait!” David gasped, spinning around.
Chris staggered to his feet, clutching the crystal. “How long”—he coughed—“until it…works?”
Truth was, David didn’t know. He’d studied the mythology behind the artifact, but he’d never used it.
“Trumain, no!” John shouted.
Deafening gunfire assaulted David’s ears, two shots, followed by a gurgle. David turned just as Trumain sank to his knees. His hand was bl
eeding, eyes wide with surprise as he reached up to grasp the handle of the dagger buried in his chest. The gun lay discarded a few feet from him.
“He must’ve fired right before I did.” Agent Henderson jogged out of the shadows. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Behind him, Chris gagged, his cough worsening. “Why aren’t I healing?”
David frowned, his gaze sliding down to the dark spot spreading across Chris’s abdomen. He rushed to catch him as his great-great-nephew’s legs gave out. David laid him on the ground, inspecting the gunshot as he fumbled for the pouch of healing herbs inside his jacket. He opened the drawstring and drizzled a pinch over Chris’s wound. The healing chant ran from David’s lips without conscious effort.
Chris writhed in pain. “It fucking hurts.”
“Hold still.” David gripped his shoulder. “Let the magic do its work.”
But it wasn’t working.
Chris glared up at David, his teeth stained with blood. “You could help our family, but you don’t. You have all this power, and you hide it. You’re a coward.”
He spat at David before coughing and choking. David rolled him onto his side so he didn’t aspirate the blood.
David looked over his shoulder at John. “Bring me the cup.”
The pirate shook his head. “I don’t carry it with me.”
“Stop fucking around. You think I don’t know it’s in that backpack on your shoulder?” David’s eyes narrowed. “He’s going to die.”
Heather stepped out from behind the ship’s carpenter. “David, you can’t. The cup will do more than heal him.”
She was right. Chris would be immortal. But David couldn’t just sit by and watch Chris bleed out. Not when there was a way to heal him. “I’ll deal with the consequences later.”
Instead of handing it over, John gave the backpack to Keegan. “Take this to your truck.”
“You brought it to save her.” David clenched his jaw. “Let me do the same.”