by ML Guida
The waves smashed into the side of the dinghy, threatening to turn them over. Rain pelted harder, slashing her and Ewan. Despair and panic descended onto her.
Out of sheer desperation, she screamed, “Father, help us!”
The boat twirled into a circle, faster and faster. She screamed, hating herself for being so weak.
Something pounded into the hull. A fin skimmed by. Oh, Poseidon—first a storm, and now, a shark? What else could go wrong? But she wasn’t defeated yet. She lifted the remaining oar high over her head. The shark swam closer. Without hesitation, she slammed the oar down onto its nose. The force made her arms jerk. The beast swam underneath the boat, but surprisingly, it didn’t attack.
Penelope wanted to grab Ewan’s shoulders and shake him awake, but his ashen face made her think twice. She scooted closer to the rail and paddled as fast as she could.
The shark wasn’t done yet and slammed into the boat. A loud crack made her heart stop. Water spewed inside.
“Damn it!”
She looked around and something loomed dark ahead. She hoped it was an island.
The beast rammed the boat again. Wood splintered. She grabbed Ewan’s hand and jumped into the water. She drew on her undine power, and her body radiated with a brilliant white. Her blood pumped stronger, and her muscles rippled. The shark circled around them. She held on tight to Ewan’s hand. Drawing on her strength, she swam toward the darkness ahead of her, hoping it was an island and not her imagination.
She swam as fast as she’d ever swam, but she wasn’t alone. She glanced over her shoulder. The beast pursued them. It opened its mouth, revealing sharp pointed teeth. Her heart thundered against her ribs. Her arms throbbed from rowing, and Ewan’s lifeless body punished them even further.
For once, she refused to give up. The shark gnashed its mouth. She flicked her hand. Water froze and an ice wall formed. The shark crashed into it, and the wall cracked. It swam away, and she knew it would make another run. Her ice wall wasn’t big and thick, but it was enough to give them a chance to escape.
She only had minutes to get them away. She kicked her legs and tightened her grip on Ewan’s thick arm. Her strength was waning, her fingers slipping.
The reef grew closer. Land was ahead. She only had a little bit further to go.
Something shattered. She looked behind her. The shark sped toward them, its mouth wide open. Ignoring the instinct to release Ewan and flee for her life, she kicked harder. She turned again and flung her hand. An ice ball formed in the shark’s mouth. It jerked, and its tail flicked back and forth.
She drew on her last energy and dragged herself and Ewan to the ocean floor. She put her feet on the ground and walked. It was hard. Waves crashed onto her, and dragging Ewan was like pulling on a loaded pirate chest.
Pain wracked through her shaking arms. A wave pushed them from behind, tossing them toward shore. Something jagged slammed into the back of her legs, knocking her forward, and Ewan was ripped out of her fingers. Razor-sharp spasms gripped her calf, then blood flowed around her, and she panicked looking for Ewan, but he was gone. This wasn’t a wave. The shark had exacted its revenge.
Suddenly, the beast attacked again. It sank its teeth into her arm and shook her. She screamed then slammed her palm onto its eyes. Ice frosted over it, and the beast threw her up high into the air. Wind rushed over her. She crashed onto the beach and rolled and rolled until she slammed into something hard. Pain paralyzed her breath, and dizziness sent her world upside down. Her vision went in and out of focus. “Ewan, Ewan.”
Her voice was small and scratchy and sounded far away. Salt stung her bleeding leg. She put her hands on the beach to push herself up, but misery gripped her calf, and she collapsed onto the sand.
Her only thought was that Ewan must have been ripped to pieces, and now, his little girl would die. ’Twas all her fault. Tears stung her eyes, and she cursed her incompetence. “I’m sorry, Ewan. I’m so sorry.”
Someone emerged from the beach, weaving back and forth. Dark hair hid his face, and he was shirtless. She thought it was Ewan, but he always wore a shirt. Pain throbbed between her temples, and her thought vanished.
Then all went blank.
Chapter Eight
Zuto waited impatiently on the beach for the time spider to return with his coveted prize. Dark clouds overhead played peak-a-boo with the waxing moon. He could smell a storm was coming, and soon, all would be drenched on his little island. His only relief was that Natasa didn’t like to visit him during the rainstorms, or at least, that’s what she said. He’d suspected she was lying. Storms had never bothered her before the time spider had flung her into Salem. No, he’d believed storms played havoc on her magic. Not that she would ever admit such. Weakness wasn’t an option for her.
The waves rolled steady onto the beach like they had for thousands of years. The fragrant smell of wild flowers and ferns filled the air. Once, he’d thought this was the most beautiful place on earth, but he’d grown tired of its beauty and wanted to escape. Maketabori had given him away out. He’d hadn’t questioned his master’s plan, but he’d learned long ago that Maketabori never gave a blessing or a treasure away for free. There would be a heavy price to pay. There always was.
But he took a deep breath. He hadn’t a choice. He couldn’t stand to be imprisoned on the island any longer.
A loud crack split open on the beach, and the beast crawled out empty handed. One leg was broken, and its fur was singed. He could smell sulfur and instantly knew who the beast had been fighting—the Soaring Phoenix. Only Kane O’Brien would be fool enough to take on his spider. Time to send the Fiery Damsel on another task.
“Come here, beast. I’ll heal you.”
The spider’s eight eyes watched Zuto warily as it slowly approached. Zuto drew on his magic, then circled his palm in front of the beast. A slight tremor went through him. The beast’s dangling leg mended as muscle and bone patched together. A new patch of shiny black skin formed over the beast’s singed and burnt flesh. He flicked his hand. “No, go rest. You will hunt tomorrow. And this time, don’t fail me.”
Fear flickered in its eyes, and it disappeared into the jungle, moving palm trees and trampling on jungle foliage.
Zuto walked down a dirt path to his hut. He needed to find Penelope’s location. Otherwise, the time spider would wander aimlessly since it had no ability to track its victims. Penelope was the key to his freedom. He waved his hand over the fire pit, and sparks ignited into a fiery blaze. He sat on the mat and stared into the flickering flames. The clouds opened up, and a steady stream of rain pelted him and the fire. But the eternal fire wouldn’t die––the flames crackled and rose higher and higher.
“Show me, Penelope.”
The flames burst, and an image formed. She lay asleep on a beach. Her dress was torn, and angry rain beat on her lifeless body. He sucked in his breath, afraid she was dead. If she was, the time spider’s venom would be useless. The venom had to mix with living blood to be potent.
Pushing the panic back that threatened to make him do something rash, he watched, looking for a sign of movement. Her chest rose up and down. She was alive.
Now, time to enter her dreams...
Chapter Nine
Waves splashed and swirled around Ewan’s calves as he staggered out of the surf. Agony gripped his shoulder. Every time he took a breath, misery throbbed inside him. He stumbled onto the beach and fell onto his knees, gasping for breath. A steady drizzle pounded on his naked skin. His heart beating wildly, he looked around the deserted beach for the sweet undine.
“Penelope?” He spat out sea water, and his gurgled voice was barely a grunt.
No one answered.
He sat back on his haunches, trying to catch his breath. He wiped his hair out of his face. What if the time spider had found her? Damn, it would all be his fault. He should have asked the crew for help or talked to Kane before going out on the senseless adventure.
He cleared his voice and
yelled, “Penelope.”
Thunder blocked out his panicked voice.
A bolt of lightning lit up the dark, angry sky and the stark, lonely beach. But then he glimpsed a form laying in the surf and blond strands of hair blowing in the wind.
“Penelope!”
She didn’t answer.
He forced himself to stand. He took one shaky step one after another and moved toward her. He was running as fast as he could, but it was as if his feet were sinking in quick sand. He reached her and dragged her out of the surf. He sank beside her. She’d kept her promise and recused him without having a reason. He’d never thought a spoiled princess would have such a brave heart. She didn’t know how much this meant to him. She’d not only saved him, but had saved Catriona as well.
“Can ye hear me, lass?”
The rushing waves and heavy rain was his only answer.
Even lying still, she was beautiful. Her blond hair glowed in the moonlight, and her white dress stuck to her body, outlining her full breasts and her budded, rosy nipples. The gauze-like material left nothing to the imagination, and his flesh grew hard. He was surprised that she wasn’t wearing a corset. Most women wore them, but she wasn’t a woman. She was an undine––a tempting undine. Although he’d been a pirate longer than he could remember, he still possessed honor. He cursed himself for being such a heel.
Kane had instilled in him that they could still have honor even with the curse. He showed the crew how to take blood without killing their host and demanded they not mistreat their victims. Seduction was accepted as long as the lass was willing. Anything less than this meant death.
Ewan had never disobeyed Kane’s order and had never wanted to. When they had female captives, he always treated them with kindness. Wynda had taught him women deserved to be treated with respect. He missed her so much and hardened his will against the familiar pain threatening to shatter his rough exterior.
Penelope’s bravery had matched his wife’s fiery determination. Wynda had always helped those in need, which was what had killed her. He hadn’t met a woman with the same compassion until now.
Shoving his desire behind him, he cleared his throat, then lifted a wet strand off her face. “Penelope?”
She didn’t answer, and her face was ashen. Thunder rolled, then rain pelted her. A cool breeze blew the hem of her dress, and he noticed a jagged rip. But something caught his vampire eye. Even in human form, he possessed the ability to see more detail or more distance than a human. A black stain spread across the back of her calf and drizzled down onto the sand. He sniffed and inhaled metallic copper—blood.
His shoulder was wet and sticky. He hoped it was his blood smeared on her leg and not hers. He slowly lifted the hem of her dress with a shaky hand then touched her slender calf. Lightning flashed overhead. He shook his head and cursed. ’Twas not his. ’Twas hers.
He tore another strip of her dress and gently dabbed her calf. He jerked his hand. Crimson dripped from his finger. “What the hell?”
He leaned closer. Deep marks formed a circle in her flesh, and he pulled out something sharp sticking out of the bloody mess. ’Twas a tooth. A shark’s tooth.
“Damn it, lass.”
Anger surged through him. He stared at the sea, wanting to tear apart the beast who’d attacked her. Lightning flashed again and lit up palm trees swaying in the gale. Wind whistled in his ears. A thick, dark jungle promised to have fresh water inside. He needed to clean her wound. He put his arms underneath her slender body. Drawing on his vampire strength, he lifted her into his embrace, inhaling her sweet scent that reminded him of a grove of heather in Scotland.
Pain stabbed his shoulder, but he ignored it and took a step. Another burst of misery pulsed through him, and dizziness swam around his eyes. Penelope’s serene face blurred. She sighed and parted her lips. He lost all concentration. His arms shook, and his knees knocked together. His ankles weakened, and then he fell onto his knees hard. He sucked in his breath. Somehow, he managed to keep from dropping his charge.
The beach whirled around him as if he was in a squall. His gut flip flopped. Penelope slowly slipped out of his arms and tumbled onto the sand.
He shook his head, trying to keep from passing out. Water dripped into his eyes. He had to stop the blood from oozing out of her calf. He licked his lips, and an overwhelming desire to taste her blood swept over him. Immediately he replaced the thought with self-loathing.
Something was different about him––as if the curse was gaining more power. Ever since the time spider’s strands pierced him, he felt evil sprouting inside him. He caressed his tender shoulder and winced. His throat was unusually dry, and he could barely swallow. He was thirsty, incredibly thirsty, but not for water. The hunger was growing inside him, which normally didn’t happen until the full moon. He tried to remember how horrible he felt taking innocent lives, but all he could focus on was blood. He shook his head, trying to hang onto his honor. He was a crew member of the Soaring Phoenix––not a member of the blood-thirsty crew of the Fiery Damsel.
He needed to help Penelope, but he didn’t trust himself. His fangs elongated, and he stared at the river of crimson trickling down her slender calf. He closed his eyes and thought of Kane and recalled his orders over and over again until he was sure he was in control, not the curse.
He slowly opened his eyes, determined to help Penelope. His hand shook as he took out his blade. He slashed a large piece of material off her dress, then quickly tied it around her flesh. ’Twas not much of a bandage, but ’twas the best he could do with his vision going in and out and his hands clumsy. He wanted nothing more but to shield her from the blistering storm and keep her warm. It would be a mistake. Her blood was too tempting, and he was becoming weaker.
Everything he’d wanted to do to protect her had gone awry. Now the poor lass would not only have a time spider hunting her, she’d have a half-mad vampire after her. He needed to get away. Maybe if she couldn’t see him, she’d return to the sea and to her father. Her father might be powerful enough to protect her.
“I am sorry, lass. I was supposed to protect ye, not put ye in danger.” He pushed her hair out of her face, and her lips parted, tempting him.
Not able to resist, he kissed her. He closed his eyes at the sweetness and hated himself for breaking Kane’s vow. “Forgive me, lass. Swim back to yer father. He can protect ye where I couldna.”
With a heavy heart and his last remaining strength, he turned and crawled toward the jungle that seemed to be five thousand miles away. He aimed for a grove of palm trees. If he could reach them, they might hide him from Penelope, and hopefully, she would think he’d been washed out to sea. He dug his fingers and his heels into the sand and inched his body slowly, keeping focused on a palm tree. Dirt, bits of shells, and pebbles shoved up his fingernails. Sand coated his wet face. He shook his head as his vision went from fuzzy to clear. Each time he moved, agony thumped in his shoulder. He paused to rest as he went, but each time he did, the rests became longer and longer.
Lightning and thunder matched his rapid heartbeat and ragged breath. The grove would either double in size or move around in circles, making his stomach tumble. He wanted to pass out here, but Penelope would find him. He had to keep going. He couldn’t give up.
He glanced over his shoulder, Penelope hadn’t moved. He gritted his teeth and reached out his arm and pulled up his body that was wracked with pain. Hunger burned in his gut. His throat turned parched, and his fangs elongated. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not until the full moon. There had to be black magic in that spider’s strand. He was becoming weaker and weaker. “Damn you, Zuto.”
At another flash, the grove was only a few more yards away. He shoved his heels back and clawed his way to the middle. He rolled on his back and gasped for breath. Pain pulsed through him, and he let the rain pound on him. He didn’t care. He turned his head in Penelope’s direction. Thunder rumbled, and lightning sizzled up in the sky. He groaned.
A trail
of blood led to the little grove. He should slide away into the thick jungle, but his arms were spent. All he could pray for was that the rain would wash away the crooked path. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then passed out.
“Wake up, Ewan,” a strong voice commanded.
Ewan frowned, then slowly opened his eyes. He rolled onto the sand, but the beach looked different than the one that he’d washed ashore on. The little grove of palm trees he’d tried to hide in was gone.
“Arise, and walk with me.”
Ewan turned his head in the sound of the voice, and his jaw fell wide open. The archangel Raphael stood next to him, dressed as a pirate. He had a sword sheathed around his hips ,and he stretched out his hand. “Come.”
Ewan took his hand, surprised the pain consuming his body had vanished. “I am dreaming, aren’t I?”
“You are, but it doesn’t mean this isn’t real. You have done well, Ewan, but I’m afraid the worst is yet to come.”
They strolled down the beach. The sun warmed Ewan’s face, and he couldn’t feel the poison pumping through him. “Have ye healed me?”
The aura around Raphael glowed brighter as if he’d stepped into the sunlight. “No”
Ewan stopped and shielded his eyes. “Why not?” The question blurted from his sneering lips before he realized he was daring an angel of god.
“You didn’t think this task would be easy, did you?” He spoke to him as if Ewan were a small child, but there was no malice in his voice.
Ewan glared and didn’t answer.
“Your time is running short, Ewan.”
“Are you watching over Catriona?”
The archangel didn’t answer. Raphael unleashed his sword and faced him. “Kneel.”
Ewan sank into the surf and hung his head. The archangel tapped each shoulder with the sword. “I have added another toil.”
Ewan’s patience was running thin, and he thought about stabbing the angel with his own blasted sword.