She looked over at him and grinned. “Remarkable. Some of my family lives on Skye.”
“So that explains the Scottish accent. What about the southern one?”
“You’re the language guy, you tell me,” she challenged.
The corner of his mouth quirked higher as he performed a lazy appraisal of her face. His gaze drifted down her neck to the front of her shirt and with each visual caress, a shiver of sexual tension shot through her body.
“Georgia, coastal, perhaps Statesboro or Savannah area?”
She nodded, impressed by his guess until she spied the sparkle of laughter in his eyes. She narrowed her own. “Just because I claimed to be a transfer student from Georgia Southern University, doesn’t mean it’s true.”
His expression immediately turned suspicious. “You’re not a student?”
“I attended GSU before being recruited for my job,” she replied, unsure of how much more to confess. She wanted to tell him something if for no other reason than to keep his trust. “I now work for some people who have an invested interest in guarding artifacts. To infiltrate the archeology department of a foreign university, my employer arranged for me to be an exchange student.”
“Did you know Blain was the bad guy from the beginning?” Marc asked.
“Not at first. After a few weeks, I worked on narrowing down the suspect list to two lead professors on this project, Blain, of course, being one of them. Unfortunately, he didn’t do anything suspicious to give himself away. In the meantime, I did a ton of research on the eye. I was confident that no matter whom Samuel chose to do his dirty work, I could swoop in, take the artifact, destroy it, and be home before anyone became the wiser.”
Marc laughed. “How’d that work out for you?”
She wrinkled her nose at him and when he reached out to tweak the end with his fingertip, she swatted it away. “Smart-ass.”
“You know the adage, be careful for what you wish for?” He flashed an ironic grin. “When I got the opportunity to study here, I jumped at it. My cousin’s decision to come with me was an added bonus. Now I’m thinking it wasn’t such a great idea.”
“Zan, the tour guide?” She hoped her question came off innocent because she already knew quite a bit about him and his family from the background check the Speakers provided, as well as gossip from her fellow female students at the university. Like every other girl in the class, she had noticed he was ripped. While not pretty-boy handsome, he possessed a killer smile, pale skin, and dark brown hair, which constantly looked like he’d recently rolled out of bed. She tried to scrub that particular the image from her mind. He leaned in close to be heard over the wind and her blood simmered at his nearness.
“I’m curious. How does this whole magic thing work? Did you inherit your… abilities from anyone in particular?” His voice, low and husky, made his question come out more of a caress.
The deck shimmied. He swayed toward her at the same instant, his lips bumping against her ear. A delicious shiver shot up her spine and her arms broke out in goose bumps.
“Sorry.” He straightened, taking his warmth with him. “The undercurrents must be getting rough. You were saying?”
She swallowed heavily and focused her attention back on topic. A renowned Speaker, her father had been recruited by the United States government to head up a ‘special’ affairs department that acted as a policing agent to keep magic and magical beings in check. His work had taken him around the world, leaving his wife and daughter alone for stretches at a time. Because of his long absences, she’d childishly refused the invitation to join the Speakers. It wasn’t until her mother’s near fatal accident that she surrendered to the inevitable. Although she wanted to be honest with Marc about her past, she wasn’t at liberty to disclose every sordid detail. She settled on a partial truth instead. “My grandmother was, yes. She passed on her gift to me. And you?”
“I’m a regular guy.”
“I’ve never encountered a regular person who could decipher first century Latin,” she said, a disturbing suspicion forming. “How many languages do you speak?”
He shrugged and she thought he appeared rather embarrassed by the question. “I understand over thirty dialects, but I only speak sixteen languages.”
“Only sixteen?” She furrowed her brow in mock disappointment. “Hardly a world record holder.”
He laughed, his gaze shifting from the small rock island they passed back to her. “Hardly.”
“Still, you read the inscription. Few could do such or raise Lilith from the dead,” she said in a more serious vein.
“I didn’t raise Lilith from the dead. She’s in your… er, bra, at least her eye is.” His gaze drifted to her chest.
Her breasts swelled and she tamped down the unwelcome effect he seemed to have on her body. She cleared her throat. “I have a question for you. What exactly is a linguist doing on an archeological dig?”
“I was shy a few elective credits for my masters. When I received the invitation from…” He trailed off, frowning. “Professor Blain invited me here. He told me the site promised multiple inscriptions written in a lost language, one that possibly might lead to the lost city of Atlantis. Obviously he lied. He lured me here to read the inscription. It had to have been why he insisted I work on that particular expanse of floor. But why didn’t he simply read it himself?”
“From what he implied, he couldn’t resurrect Lilith alone. He needed help.”
“He needed your help,” Marc corrected, jaw tense. “I acted as a means to an end. He tricked me into freeing Lilith and, in turn, used me for bait to lure you into helping him.”
“But we’ve never met before. If he meant to use someone to get to me, why pick a stranger?”
Leaning his hip against the rail, he flashed a quizzical smile. “Isn’t it obvious? Because he knew you’d never let an innocent die.”
His praise sent a warm tingle through her, followed by a wave of unexpected shyness. The teenage tourist who approached, camera at the ready, proved a welcome distraction.
“They really get into this whole crab theme. I wonder how their doing it.” Marc moved closer to Cindi and pointed to the rail on his left. “See how the green looks like it is wet and the tips of the claws are turning red.”
She followed his gaze and frowned. “It looks the same dull color to me.”
“Look more closely, the crab is turning red.” He pushed his cap back, a sure sign of irritation.
Suspicion hit her. Could it be happening already? Was the madness setting in? She fought a wave of fear and anxiety at the prospect.
“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, because I’m not.” Fury and panic darkened his eyes. “The paint is changing color.”
The vessel unexpectedly slammed to the right and shivered violently. The girl next to them screamed and a group of terrified passengers ran toward the safety of the cabin.
“Did we hit a rock?” she asked, her startled gaze shooting to Marc.
His face white and his lips grim, he stared intently over her head. “No, not a rock.”
The vessel gave another jolt followed by the distinctive screech of tearing metal. Marc looped his arm around her and pulled her close. A loud boom echoed, and scalding air brushed her calf. She released a painful breath and caught it a second later. Twisting to the right, Marc picked her up. The deck where she had recently stood bore a large crater with sheared, red hot metal. “What is it? What’s happening, Marc?”
“It’s the crab coming to life,” Marc said with an adamant nod, “open your eyes and believe, Cindi. It’s there.”
“Let me see what can’t be seen,” she began, responding to the desperation in his tone, “Make it real, not a dream.”
Cindi felt as if she had awoken into a nightmare. A giant crab emerged from the frame of the ferry, an enormous claw, red tipped and blazing hot, hammered into the deck again. The creature’s black eyes shifted, looking for prey. Its gaze settled on her.
Chapter
3
The female captain of the Cancer’s authoritative voice sounded over the loudspeaker in English. “Attention all passengers, we are experiencing mechanical difficulties. For your safety, we are asking you to make your way in a calm and orderly fashion to the car deck while we assess the situation.” The engine rumbled to life. “What is the engine doing on, Ensign?”
Another voice came on the loudspeaker. “I don’t know. I swear I turned it off.”
The engine cut out once more.
The claw swung in Marc’s direction. He managed to duck, bringing Cindi with him. The teenager next to her wasn’t so lucky. Knocked off her feet by the force of what was to the innocent girl an unseen claw, her slight body rolled haphazardly over the mangled rail toward the sea below. Cindi dove after the kid. Her fingers wrapped around the screaming girl’s wrist to halted her terrifying three-story plunge. Marc fell to his knees horrified as he clamped the girl about the shoulders and brought her to safety. She clung to him, sobbing.
The engine came back to life. “I swear it’s doing it on its own,” the ensign whined, his voice echoing over the sea.
“Try taking out the key and turn off the damn speaker,” the captain ordered.
Marc disengaged the girl’s arms from around his neck. “Go inside and find your parents.”
Wiping a tear from her eyes, she complied. Furious, Marc watched her disappear. How many innocents would die before Blain got what he wanted? He turned to Cindi. “How are we going to stop this thing? The monster is controlling the engine. I’m only aware of a couple of ways to kill a crab. I don’t suppose you can make the ocean boil.”
“Not without killing all of us.” She wrenched his arm and hauled him to the left. One of the crab legs punctured the surface only inches from where he’d stood.
“Got any ideas?”
“Not really. I’ve never battled a giant crab.”
The captain, a tall brunette with impassioned dark eyes, raced from the captain’s cabin with a megaphone in hand. “Ladies and gentleman line up in an orderly fashion. There are plenty of lifeboats, and the Guardia Costlier has been notified. Do not panic,” she said in a commanding voice, repeating the order in Italian, and German.
Her direction seemed to work for people stopped pushing. She moved to the front of the line and in a matter of moments, the passengers trailed into the relative safety of the cabin.
Marc made to follow her dictate. “Crabs will go into a dormant state if you freeze them.”
“The problem being I can’t actually freeze anything per se. I stopped time.” The ferry jerked before the deck rose fifty feet and threw them to the ground. He managed to catch Cindi and break her fall with his body. Adrenaline cushioned the pain but he knew he’d pay for the gesture later.
“Time would be good.” The hull crashed back into the ocean with a mighty slap and he rolled them under the relative safety of the wooden bench seats. Cindy’s long legs rested between his, their torsos flush. She raised her head and frowned.
“I could try it.” She closed her eyes and began to recite the spell while he stared at the deck, willing the crab to freeze. After several turns of the phrase, he cupped her cheek. “It’s not working.”
Eyes stark with fear met his. She licked her lips, the action drawing his gaze to her mouth. “Okay, what do we do next?” she asked.
Marc wanted to do many things, starting with kissing her. What are you waiting for? Either by curse or by crab, you’ll be dead soon. He heard her husky taunt, except her lips remained closed. Was she sending a subliminal message or was it his imagination—fueled by adrenaline—that played into his desire? Do it, Marc. Giving into the demand, he brushed his lips across her mouth and felt her answering response.
The seat above them shattered, bits of wood stinging his face and hands as the claw drove into the vessel. He felt a drop of blood trickling down his forehead. “Are you all right?”
She crawled off him to kneel on the deck. Her fingers went to her face where flecks of blood dotted her cheek. “Fine. We have to kill this thing and fast.” She pointed to the axe in the glass case on the other deck. “Maybe we can cleave its skull?”
“For a pacifist, you sure are bloodthirsty.” He jumped to his feet. “Given the size of this thing, I don’t think the axe will do the job but we could use another weapon. The gun is too small to—”
He took a step forward.
“Look out,” Cindi yelled.
He listed to the side and barely escaped the descending claw. The creature radiated fire and the heat burned a hole in his shirt, the temperature so intense he thought his skin might melt. He ripped the shirt off and tossed the flaming material to the ground. An angry welt formed along his side, but there was no time to dwell on the pain. Dodging a lethal pincher, he raced to the axe.
The case was locked. He raised his foot and slammed his boot into the front. The glass remained intact, his foot, however, felt broken into a million pieces. Cursing a blue streak, he tried to walk off the sting.
“Idiot.” Lifting her hands, she muttered a spell. “Break the glass, save our ass.”
The glass cracked, the shards falling onto the deck. Marc grabbed the handle of the axe, balancing it in his fingers to get a feel for it. “Since we can’t make the ocean boil, the only other way to destroy this thing is to break its shell and take out the nerve center.”
A voice came over the loud speaker, this time more urgent. “All passengers, this is the last call for evacuation. Please make your way immediately to the car deck.”
The pincher came again. He raised the axe and swung the blade, hitting the crab. The weapon slammed into the claw and immediately bounced back from the hard metal, barely denting the creature. Marc felt the impact shoot down his arm, his fingers momentarily going numb. He managed to keep his grasp on the wooden handle, however. “Well, that blows. How are we going to crack metal?”
“The claws might be forged from metal, but the cabin is still made from wood. If we ram the boat into one of those rock islands, we should be able to break the shell.”
“If the cabin is the shell, then the engine must be the nerve center. There should be a kill button to stop the engine. But we can’t act with everyone still aboard,” Marc reminded, frowning.
Cindy tilted her head to reveal a mischievous smile. “Or we simply disembark.”
“A much more sensible option,” he agreed. “Let’s get out of here.”
A rumble shook the whole vessel. With a loud boom, a section of the roof caved in. The beast attacked blindly, the red-hot pincher scoring metal and wood.
“A crab would not be my first choice of creature to enchant,” Cindi said, taking the stairs leading down to the lower deck.
“It’s doing a pretty impressive job so far—what in the hell is that?” Marc paused in mid-stride. Some unseen force broadcasted like a thousand bullets riddling the metal sides. “A hail storm?” he yelled over the thundering noise.
Cindi pointed to the bottom of the stairs and shuddered. “No, crabs.”
The floor seemed to move and the stench hit him as hundreds of decapod crustaceans clawed their way over the deck. He spun on his heels and raced up the stairs, Cindi’s footsteps echoing behind. Once back on the upper deck, he shuddered with revulsion. Every crab in the area seemed to be trying to climb aboard.
“I think we have to go back to plan B. Can you steer this thing?”
“I’m army, not navy,” he swore, feeling helpless and a bit freaked out. He glanced about, eyes scanning the horizon for anything to assist. The lifeboats full of people were on the left. To the right, several small rock islands jutted out of the blue water. He pointed to the biggest one. “Can you stir up the wind and push us over there?”
Cindi cast him a grim smile. “I suggest you hold on.”
Cindi inhaled a deep breath and nearly choked on the briny stench of the crabs that encroached on the decks. She quaked in disgust but forced herself to concentrate on the spell. “Wind
s of time hear my plea, rise.”
It began with a soft whistle, the sound soothing her jangled nerves. Like an orchestra leader, she raised her hands. She experienced a tug in her gut and the power quickened inside her, pulsing until it rushed out of her fingertips. Her hair whipped around and her shirt hugged her back. The boat moved, slowly at first, and the metal frame creaked from the strain of fighting the engine. The wind continued to rise, becoming so strong it nearly knocked her off her feet.
Marc stepped behind her, the heat from his body scorching her back. He looped the rope from one of the life preservers around her waist, tying it off. She faltered, causing the wind to die for a breath. Forcing her mind off the feel of his naked torso, she redoubled her efforts.
“You’re doing it.” Marc rested his stubbly cheek next to hers. For some reason, his touch increased the strength within. With the added force of the wind, the cumbersome hull jumped across the water and picked up speed.
“Oh shit.” A massive claw swung at them. Marc lifted her off her feet and took a step back. The pincher barely missed her wrist.
Anger surged through Cindi and renewed her energies. The vessel shot forward. The hull hit the rocks under the surface first and the water muffled a low screech of ripping metal. A heavy boom followed, wrenching the boat from side to side. It hit the biggest of the rocks and tilted upward at a forty-degree angle. The cabin slammed into the rocks with a tremendous jolt, and cleaved into the wood. A loud crack reverberated through the air, foreshadowing the crab’s destruction.
The momentum broke Marc’s hold on her.
Shadows in the Mist: A Paranormal Anthology Page 23