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 lips 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.

“Neither will I.” Heather didn’t know how the figurehead took hold of her sister, but she wasn’t going to let it possess her without a fight.

…

Drake pulled up at his house and jumped out of the truck, jogging toward his dock on the river. Colton and Skye were already waiting by his MAKO 214 fishing boat. If his hunch was right, Skye could be the only way he could find Heather and Ashley in time.

Bale said Ashley was somehow the figurehead, and she needed Heather alive, so it didn’t take a detective to connect the dots. Ashley must’ve found a way to transfer the figurehead’s curse to her twin. If she called on the spirits and dumped Heather into the ocean… Fuck, he couldn’t even think about it. The magic root in his pocket would be useless if Heather was at the bottom of the Atlantic.

“I gassed the engine and we’ve got an extra can if we need it.” Colton held up the red plastic container and tipped his head toward his wife. “Skye’s got her crystal ball.”

As the Sea Dog crew grew to include three females, they each added new skills to the crew. Char and Skye were both psychics with exceptional abilities, and Harmony had hacking skills Drake didn’t understand well enough to explain. Skye’s psychic gift was not only her intuition, but her second sight. Her visions sometimes offered a glimpse of the future, or as Drake was depending on, remote locations.

“Let’s do this.” Drake unfastened the line from the dock and tossed the knot into the boat before climbing in. The engine roared to life, and he opened the throttle. The bow lifted as they gained speed, heading for the open ocean.

“I’m coming, love,” Drake whispered under his breath. “You stay alive for me.”

Skye sat closer to the bow, her eyes closed. Apparently she’d be using her third eye for this rescue mission. Instead of trying to scream over the outboard motor, Skye pointed her changes in direction. Every tiny movement gave Drake hope. As long as Skye could sense her, Heather must still be alive.

Colton stood beside Drake at the helm, watching the horizon. “Your hand is injured.”

“Aye.” Drake nodded. “Ashley stabbed me before she kidnapped her sister.”

“And you haven’t healed?” Colton turned to face him. “What’s going on, mate?”

“I’m fine. I just need to find Heather.”

“Bullshit. You’re not fine.” Colton’s eyes narrowed. “Your eyes are bloodshot. You’re pale, and you’re not healing. How is that possible?”

Drake cut his gaze to his quartermaster. “Heather won’t drink from the cup. I needed a fallback plan in case I don’t get to her in time.”

Colton’s brow furrowed. “What did you do?”

Skye’s eyes snapped open as she stood straight up. “Slow down!”

Drake eased back the throttle. The bow of the boat gradually lowered until it glided through the water. Searching the horizon, Drake frowned. “I don’t see them.”

“We’re close.” Skye turned, looking out at the water. “We need to slow down. Something is…”

Her words faded away as she covered her ears and screamed. Colton grunted, losing his footing. “The banshee… Can’t… Fuck.” The quartermaster dropped to his knees.

Drake gunned the motor. If Colton and Skye could hear it, then Heather must be suffering right now, too. He instinctively brushed the knife handle at his belt. Ashley didn’t have an item from him, so for now, he was immune to her attack. She still had Heather’s ring and the Sea Dog’s flag.

Skye writhed on the floor of the boat, unable to guide him. Drake didn’t slow the boat. If he found Heather and Ashley, he could stop the attack. It was the only way to help Colton and Skye. He kept his gaze glued to the horizon, searching for any other vessels. His cell buzzed in his pocket, interfering with his internal panic.

Bale’s name lit the screen. “Yeah?” Drake bellowed over the motor.

“Where are you?”

“Atlantic. Ashley’s got Heather out here someplace.”

“Do you have GPS navigation on board?”

Drake glanced down at his console. “Aye.”

“Good. Kingsley’s been searching the satellite images, and we may have found something. I’m texting you the coordinates now.”

“All right.”

“I’m waiting on a helicopter pilot. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Aye.” Drake ended the call and clicked his messages. He slowed the boat long enough to enter the coordinates. The digital compass pointed him to the northwest.

She was less than five nautical miles away.

“We’re close,” Drake said to Skye and Colton who were holding onto each other as they endured the banshee scream.

Drake pulled back the throttle and followed the coordinates. “Fight, love. I’m almost there.”

…

Heather’s head throbbed. She ground her teeth, her vision clouded by the constant stream of tears as her father’s ghost encouraged her to throw herself overboard, telling her she deserved to die, and then in turn promising her they could be together forever.

Lies. It was all lies. She had to make it stop.

Drake’s nephew crawled into the boat, his dark-rimmed eyes full of fear. “Uncle Drake doesn’t love you,” Thomas said. “He left me to drown, just like he’s leaving you. We’re both going to die at the bottom of sea.”

“I’m not dying today.” Heather grunted, wrenching one hand free from the duct tape.

Her shoulders ached as she reached up to cover her ears. Nothing silenced the banshee’s wail. She lowered her hands, waiting to see if her sister noticed she was free.

Ashley’s inhuman red eyes never blinked; her mouth in a perpetual O shape made her seem more statue than human. A figurehead.

“Uncle Drake isn’t coming,” Thomas whispered. “He doesn’t know what love is.”

“Not…true.” Heather shifted from her sitting position onto her knees, trying not to rock the boat. She had no idea what would wake her sister from her trance.

“He’s abandoned you.” Her father hissed, mouth tight, forcing the words from his lips. “He never told you he loved you. You’re in so much pain. Just let go. Join me.”

Lies. All of it. Her father, Thomas, and countless other lost souls that her sister had called up shouted at her. The louder they grew, the more vividly she saw Drake’s smile. Memories of dancing with him in her attic flooded her mind. The way he’d stood by her, even after overhearing her tell One-Eyed Bob her decision to end their relationship, had everything to do with love; honest, unconditional love. He didn’t need to say the words. He proved his love. It was real.

And damn it, she was going to live long enough to tell him she loved him, too.

Heather scrambled forward, racing toward her sister. Ashley blinked, her mouth snapping shut as Heather knocked her back against the idling motor of the boat.

“You bitch!” Ashley shrieked, gripping Heather’s sore shoulders. “Why do you have to make this difficult?”

“I’m not dying for you!” Heather slapped her sister’s face.

Time stopped for a moment as Ashley reached up to wipe a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth, her lips twisting into a cold smirk. “Just remember, I tried to make this painless for you.”

Before Heather could reply, Ashley snatched a dagger from her bag and buried it in Heather’s abdomen. She stared at the handle as blood soaked through her shirt, the crimson circle slowly growing. Part of her mind rejected the pain blossoming through her torso, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Ashley hovered over her, her grip tight on Heather’s shoulders. “Give my regards to Dad and Davy Jones.” She dragged Heather to the edge of the boat, shoving her farther over the side toward the water. “You’ll make a beautiful figurehead.”

The word snapped something in Heather’s mind and shattered the shock, replacing the disbelief with raw, pure rage. She struggled to push her sister away. Adrenaline raced through her weakened muscles, and one thought became her mantra.

I’m not dying today. Not today.

She blocked the pain from her consciousness; survival was all that mattered. Ashley gripped her shoulders, shoving her over the side of the boat. Heather kicked her legs, hooking a foot under one of the seats. Anything to stay topside.

“Get in the water!” Ashley screamed and pressed down with all her weight. Heather’s head dunked into the sea. No. She had to fight. I’m not dying today.

In one desperate move, Heather grabbed the handle of the dagger in her stomach, jerked it free, and plunged it into the side of her sister’s neck.

Ashley’s eyes widened, her lips struggling to form words. Her body went limp, and Heather’s flash of strength faded. Ashley’s body weight fell onto Heather as the boat tilted.

They both slid into the ocean.