Chapter Eighteen
David slammed his door a little harder than he intended. He was in bed with the immortal pirates again. Damn it.
When Drake contacted him earlier tonight, worried Heather could become the coven’s next target, David had to agree. If the mental assaults Drake had endured were incapacitating, he didn’t want to imagine how much worse they would be against a woman who could hear spirits without the aid of witchcraft and ancient relics.
Thinking about it was enough to have his heart rate elevating. He took a breath, pressed Kingsley’s name on his phone, and waited for the Brit to pick up.
“I don’t have the figurehead’s location yet.” Kingsley sighed. “It’s not like we’ve got a tracker on it, but that would have been an excellent plan. Too bad I wasn’t consulted.”
David ignored the sarcasm. “There’s been a little change in plans.”
“Oh?” The frenetic typing stopped on the other end of the line.
“Now that we know Ashley Storrey has the figurehead, once we pinpoint the location, the Sea Dog crew will recover it for us.” David braced himself for Kingsley’s sarcastic response.
But it didn’t materialize.
“My suggestion would be to visit the Digi Robins warehouse we found in Brunswick. We never raided it, so as far as Ms. Storrey knows, it’s still under the radar.”
David wrote himself a note to find the address in the database. “I’ll check it out, but that may be too far from Savannah. Seems like she’d need to touch it to cast the spell, right? It’s gotta be close by.”
“I’m a shamanic computer programmer, not a high priestess. I have no idea how the figurehead’s magic works. I’ll keep searching.” He paused and added, “Watch your back out there. You’re not the only one looking for this. The Serpents must want it, too.”
“Right. I’m also going to need Ashley’s home address.”
“You’ll have it shortly.”
“Thanks, King.”
David set his phone aside and pulled his hair back from his forehead. He had to give Ashley Storrey credit. The woman was fearless to make a trade with the Serpent Society, and then when the relic she traded turned out to be a forgery, she not only kept the figurehead, but also stole the serpent ring off of Dr. Trumain’s dead finger. Ballsy move.
But why? The ring wasn’t imbued with magic. Was it just to piss them off, or maybe to let them know she wasn’t afraid of them? Her reasons didn’t matter at this point.
Obviously she was confident in her magic and her ability to control the army of the dead with the figurehead. She likely believed she was safe, but she didn’t understand who she was up against. David had barely survived his first run-in with the fanatical group, and he was a trained government agent.
Now that he knew the identity of the coven’s high priestess, tailing her would be his best chance of finding the figurehead. His phone buzzed and an address lit up the screen. Time to get back to work.
David drove to the address King sent. He parked two blocks away from Ashley’s home and got out of the car, scanning the area. Unlike her sister, Ashley embraced the luxury offered in a new high-end development on the outskirts of Savannah. No history here. The majority of the community was two-story structures, but Ashley’s was one of the few single-story brick houses on the street. This time of night, most of the homes were dark, but light filtered into the darkness from the back of Ashley’s property.
He made his way around the perimeter, grateful to find her side gate unlocked. If he could scout her property without her knowledge, he could avoid another magical showdown. Although, he’d be prepared this time.
Light poured from the picture window around the back of the house as he slowly eased the gate open. The hinges creaked and he froze, holding his breath. When he was certain he hadn’t attracted any attention, he crouched lower and made his way to the other side of the window before risking a look. Ashley sat with her back to him, working on a laptop. Good. He scanned the living room, taking note of the contemporary furnishings and high tech gadgets. Nothing like her twin sister’s home filled with antiques and family heirlooms, pieces that made the place look and feel welcoming.
The figurehead from the Flying Dutchman would definitely stand out in this cold futuristic interior, not that she’d keep it in plain sight, but he had to check. He hustled farther along the perimeter until a storage shed came into view to the right of the main house. His pulse kicked up a notch.
As he approached the shed, the hair on his arms prickled. Shit. He brought his hand up, his fingers searching for the source of the tension in the air. Magic sparked near the deadbolt lock on the shed. He circled the structure, hoping for another opening or a window, but the rest of the shed’s construction was solid. No way to see what was inside.
He circled back to the door, staring at the lock. Ashley had set powerful magic wards around this shed, and like artists with their different paints and techniques, every magic-worker had their own style, their own take on a spell. Some wards were simple enough to disarm, while others could take him a week to find the right combination of symbols and words to release the metaphysical lock.
The back door opened and the beam of a flashlight swept across the yard.
“Who’s there?” Ashley shouted.
And some wards were complex enough to warn the one who set them when they were being touched or tampered with. Shit. David reached into his pocket, brushing his thumb across a smooth stone as he murmured a few words in Latin.
For now, she wouldn’t be able to see him, but his invisibility spell had limitations. The moment his skin came in contact with anything that he wasn’t holding when the spell was cast, it would be broken. But it was the best plan he had for now.
David stalked across her backyard again, passing her silently as she walked to the shed. Once he was a few feet away, he increased his pace. At the side gate, he checked over his shoulder. The moment he touched the latch, he’d be visible.
Ashley inspected the lock on the shed, and David made his move. He freed the latch without a sound, but hinges of the gate screamed as he pulled it open. The flashlight swung in his direction as he bolted through the gate.
David didn’t stop running until he reached his car. He fired up the engine, the tires screeching as he cranked the wheel into a tight U-turn and punched the accelerator. He hadn’t laid eyes on the figurehead, but he had a good idea where it could be. The trick would be getting it out before Ashley decided to move it.
…
While Drake was in the kitchen having hushed conversations with some of his crewmates, Heather opened her laptop and clicked on the Skull & Crossbones icon. The game loaded, and the chat screen beeped with repeated messages. Heather scrolled back through Queenie’s notes, frowning. Yes, Heather had been neglecting their gaming time since Drake came into her life, but Queenie’s messages were a little over the top. They devolved as they went on from pouty, to passive aggressive, to threatening to stop playing altogether.
Heather sighed, her fingers poised over the keyboard.
The cursor blinked in silent answer. Queenie usually kept her settings on offline to stay cloaked from other players, so Heather had no idea if Queenie was even playing right now. Heather clicked on a solo quest, but as the screen changed and the weapons choices came up, the chat chimed.
Heather glanced at the kitchen door and back to the screen.
She braced herself for something snarky like the earlier posts she’d missed while she was out with Drake.
Heather smiled, the tension leaving her shoulders as she shared the past few days with her closest friend. She started with the romantic dance in the attic after she found the hope chest her mother and grandmother had put together for her. And ended with trying to find the coven who was attacking him.
Heather stared at the keyboard. Queenie was right, she hadn’t known Drake long, but he’d stepped in front of a gunman for her. Their souls had recognized each other even before they did. How could she explain all that without outing Drake’s immortality?
Queenie knew all about Heather’s metaphysical work, so she didn’t think her friend would freak out, but she needed to tread lightly.
She held her breath, waiting for Queenie to respond.
Heather worried her lower lip. A little lie to protect Drake wouldn’t hurt anything.
Heather straightened up on the couch, aching to defend Drake’s intentions and his honor. But as her fingers brushed the keys, she stopped, skimming Queenie’s reply. Her eyes narrowed, and a chill shot down her spine. How did Queenie know where she lived?
Did I tell her at some point? Her heart raced in answer. They’d been chatting online for months. Maybe she’d mentioned Savannah or her grandmother’s house, but she hadn’t meant to. Neither one of them had shared first names or contact info. It was just Queenie and GrayGhost chatting. They’d talked about their jobs. Heather had told her she was a medium who sometimes helped the government solve cases, and Queenie worked for a charity.
Heather rubbed her hand on her leg. She must’ve mentioned her house during one of their gaming sessions. There was no other explanation.
They completed three missions by the time Drake came in from the kitchen and his crewmates waved their goodbyes as they left. He sat beside her and pointed at the screen. “Take that one next.”
Heather glanced his way with a half smile on her lips. “That’s a supply ship. They’re usually full of spices and coffee.”
Drake shrugged. “Looks like it’s riding awfully low in the water for the cargo to be coffee.”
She raised a brow. “You think they’re hiding gold in the hull?”
He nodded slowly, meeting her eyes, but the hunger in his gaze didn’t seem to be for virtual gold. Her toes curled in her shoes. “Let me tell Queenie.”
Drake chuckled, shaking his head. “Enough talk. Plunder that ship before it sails away.”
Together, with Queenie coming from the north and Heather from the south, they overpowered the smaller ship while incurring minimal damage. Heather gave the command to board the ship, and her crew, with the help of Queenie’s, quickly bound the supply ship’s men to the main mast and rushed below.
After tossing aside burlap sacks of coffee beans, the true cargo was revealed. Trunks of gold coins. Heather laughed, grinning at Drake. “You are a damn fine pirate.”
He tipped his head playfully with that spark in his eye that melted her heart. “Used to be.”
Heather closed her laptop and set it aside. “Now that we know the coven doesn’t have your dagger anymore, you can sleep tonight, too.”
Drake took her hand, his smile fading. “You heard Bale. This isn’t some faceless coven, love. This is your sister. He saw her.”
Heather’s stomach twisted painfully. “I know, I know.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about all this, and she hasn’t committed a crime, at least not yet.”
Drake raised an eyebrow. “She runs the Digi Robins on the dark web. They steal high-priced artifacts and sell them to the highest bidder. There have been plenty of crimes.”
“But she hasn’t hurt anyone. Not physically.” God, even the ceiling seemed to be judging her. She lowered her gaze to Drake’s face. Desperation seeped into her voice. “Maybe I can meet up with her and explain the trouble that she’s in. If I can get her to turn over the figurehead in trade for a pardon for the Digi Robins, then she could help David chase down more of the dark web thievery rings.” Her tone rose with her hopes. “Ashley could be a big help to Department 13. I just need to sit down with her and make her see reason.”
Drake ran his callused thumb along her knuckles. “Your love for your sister is admirable, but we have to be realistic.” He cleared his throat, his voice taking on a rough edge. “When some of the crew were here earlier tonight, we were making arrangements to keep the Grail close, just in case she tries to hurt you. If Bale isn’t successful in arresting her, we need a backup plan.”
Heather’s eyes widened. “The Holy Grail that made all of you immortal is your backup plan? No. No way.”
“Why not?” His brow furrowed, clearly confused by her reaction. “We both know the easiest way for her to hurt me is to go after you. You put your house on the line with Flynn to get him on board with stealing the figurehead. This is just in case she uses it against you or comes after you with her magic before we can steal it from her. If you were immortal, too, then she couldn’t hurt you.”
“My sister is not going to kill me.” She couldn’t even entertain the thought.
“She won’t have to.” Drake ran a hand down his face. “At any time, she could send every spirit who has died at sea right here into your living room. And, since you can already hear them, how long would you last with thousands crying, threatening, and wailing at you? I won’t sit by and pretend you wouldn’t go mad or worse. You could jump out a window or run into the street.” He shook his head, pain lining his features. “You’re too important to me, Heather.”
She stared into his eyes, imagining eternity at his side. God, they barely knew each other. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, her soul had known him much longer, but in this lifetime their relationship was still new.
She wasn’t ready to die today, but if she took a sip from the Grail, she would be trapped in this lifetime, forever.
Ever since she could remember, she’d been communicating with souls who had crossed over, transitioned from this plane. They’d shown her images of pure light, given her a sense of the freedom of time and space, no longer impeded by a mortal body. Many of them chose to reenter the mortal world, each lifetime bringing new lessons and miracles, and sometimes, even second chances at love. Immortality enticed plenty of people, but she was more interested in what might come after life.
She shook her head slowly. “Drake…I can’t. I don’t want a sip from that cup.”
Drake clenched his jaw. “Please. Only as a last resort. I can’t have your blood on my hands, too.”
She pushed his fingers open and traced the long lifeline on his palm. “If something happens to me, it won’t be because of you.” Her gaze met his. “It’s all going to work out. I’ll handle Ashley, David will get the figurehead, and hopefully we can keep the Serpent Society away from her.” The corners of her lips curved as her pale fingers laced with his. “I’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
He caressed her cheek, his gaze searching her eyes. Her heart clenched with dread. Would he walk away now that he knew she wouldn’t drink from the Grail? Maybe he should. She would age and he’d remain ruggedly handsome. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Maybe loving for a lifetime was never in the cards for them. But why would their souls have finally found each other only to have the reunion end in heartbreak again?
Time stretched between them. His thumb caressed her cheek and she nuzzled into his touch. He hadn’t been in her life for very long, but the thought of him walking out that door broke her heart.
He leaned in and kissed her. His tongue swept into her mouth, hungry and needy as his fingers slid through her hair, tightening into a fist. Her pulse responded, racing, yearning to be closer to him. Never in her life did she believe she’d experience this kind of passion and acceptance.
Was this love?
She didn’t know, but whatever it was, she wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.