Chapter Four
Agent David Bale knocked on the doorframe of Kingsley Pratt’s office. He’d been making an effort to be more patient and friendly with his shamanic computer programmer after the alcoholic Brit spoke up during the review board and saved David’s job.
He’d been doing a lot of things differently since the clusterfuck over Pandora’s Box that led to the review board.
King looked up from his computer screen. “I’m afraid I don’t have answers for you yet. But feel free to hover if you’ve got nothing better to do.”
Not that King made getting along easy.
David cleared his throat and entered the office, taking the chair across from King’s desk. “Actually, I didn’t come over here to rush you, just thought of something that might help you narrow the search.”
Kingsley Pratt had worked in Department 13 for over ten years now. David had found him haunting a barstool in Savannah, babbling about men being torn limb from limb. While the rest of the bar wrote him off as a drunk, when he mentioned men wearing serpent rings with red eyes, David recognized these weren’t alcohol-fueled ramblings. This man had witnessed a real paranormal phenomenon.
By the end of the night, he’d convinced King to return to Department 13 for further review, and even though the Brit still drank too much, he’d become a valuable part of their small, overworked team.
King took his glasses off and arched a brow. “I’m listening.”
“Start with Heather Storrey.”
“The medium in Savannah is involved in a coven?”
“No.” David rested his elbows on his knees. “But she’s the one who tipped me off last night that a coven might be responsible for the recent increase in paranormal activity being reported in Savannah.”
Until a few weeks ago, when David’s distant relative had been tempted to open Pandora’s Box and potentially end the world, David had kept his personal life close to the vest. Department 13 protocols were all that mattered to him, until he almost lost everything. He’d spent the past few weeks reevaluating his life, beginning with one truth. These people he worked with were the only real family he had left.
King focused on his screen again, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “You believe this coven could be targeting her?”
“Or someone she’s in contact with.” David straightened up. “I’m going back to Savannah to check things out on the ground. Keep me informed if you find a link.”
“Wait. You’re going back to Savannah?” King slid his hands free of the keyboard, giving David his full attention. “I thought you cut ties with the Sea Dog crew. Why go back?”
“I did.” David nodded, knowing full well King’s daughter was now a member of that same crew. “But if anything happens to Heather…” His voice trailed off as he shrugged. “I need to do this.”
King glanced at his screen and back up to David. “You care about this woman.”
“Yeah.” David turned and walked away, his single word admission being more personal information than he’d ever shared with a coworker. Time to get out of Dodge before he revealed more truth than he intended.
…
Heather looked up from her computer screen and frowned at the darkness outside her window. Her last mediumship client left at three o’clock. She hadn’t meant to lose four hours online playing Skull & Crossbones. The addictive seafaring multiplayer online game allowed her to virtually sail around the world, build up her crews and armories. Hearing her female virtual pirate captain shouting commands didn’t suck, either.
Online multiplayer games gave her an escape during the daylight, when she avoided going out in the sun. Through Skull & Crossbones she’d also met Queenie. She was another rare female player, like Heather, and after a couple months of gaming and online chats, their friendship had blossomed. Heather found it easy to confide in her virtual friend, and the anonymity meant no staring and no explaining about her lack of pigment.
Heather’s screen name, GrayGhost, blinked in the chat window.
She waited for her friend and piratical crewmate to answer back.
Heather chuckled. I’ll try. I’m not sure I’ll see Drake again so…
Queenie sent a sad face emoji.
Heather smiled, shaking her head as she leaned back against the sofa. If Queenie ever saw Drake, she’d forget all about the ship.
The carpenter was handsome in a rugged, brooding, I-could-be-Thor kind of way. But pictures weren’t going to happen. If she started sending them, eventually she’d have to send one of herself. And she was enjoying the blind friendship. Queenie didn’t even know what Heather did for a living.
Heather stared at the word on her screen. Romance had never been kind to her. Did she even want that anymore? Her life was plenty full without a man mucking it up.
She stretched her fingers and replied.
Heather closed her laptop and got up to stretch. Maybe she needed to start setting a timer. Skull & Crossbones had amazing graphics and adventures at sea that made it easy to imagine you were actually sailing, but chatting with Queenie was quickly becoming one of her favorite parts of the game. Having a friend to confide in who couldn’t ever spill your secrets because she didn’t know your real name was freeing.
However, it was also addictive, and although she worked from home, she had plenty of things to do. Edgar wandered down the stairs, right on cue, his tail tracing the bannister railing. The black cat called out a half-hearted meow as she bent to pick him up.
“Oh stop complaining, Mr. Cacey.” She stroked behind his ears, enjoying the loud purr. “You’ll get your dinner.”
She set Edgar on the floor and filled his dish. While he devoured his food, she went to the fridge and peered inside, even though she had already half decided on heading over to Bob’s again. Eating out was fiscally irresponsible, but cooking for one meant a lot of work before and after. The lure of no cleanup was a huge temptation, and the thought of Bob’s shrimp and hush puppies made the frozen dinners pale in comparison.
“Enjoy your meal. I’ll be back soon.” She started to reach for her hooded cape but stopped herself.
Unlike last night, she wasn’t in a hurry to find anyone. If people stared, let them. In the bathroom, she brushed her long silver hair into a ponytail and swiped a light, frosted-pink gloss over her lips, all while convincing herself it had nothing to do with knowing now that Drake and Bob were friends, or that maybe Drake might be visiting Bob’s Seafood tonight, too.
She rolled her eyes.
Thanks for planting that romance idea in my head, Queenie.
…
Drake finished his beer and set the empty mug on the bar.
One-Eyed Bob wandered over with a white hand towel draped over his shoulder, concern lining his good eye. “You sure you don’t want to talk?”
Drake lifted his gaze, shaking his head. “Nothing to talk about, just having trouble sleeping.”
Bob placed a fresh mug in front of him. “Heard you got a call from a banshee last night.”
“Colton has a big mouth.” Drake swiped the mug off the bar. He bit back the frustration building in his gut. He wanted to confide in someone, but even after more than two hundred years, the sick pit of guilt still ate at his insides. Speaking the words out loud was impossible.
Maybe part of him welcomed the burden of his private hell.
You don’t deserve forgiveness or mercy.
The door opened behind him before he could examine the source of the statement. He glanced over his shoulder to find Heather coming inside. She wore a long purple crushed-velvet skirt, with a formfitting black top. Her hair was pulled back, exposing her long neck and the soft features of her face. This might’ve been the first time he’d ever seen her in such a well-lit place, but hell, she was beautiful no matter where she was or how her hair was styled.
“Drake?” Her smile called to him like a siren.
He turned all the way around on the stool. “What are you doing here?”
She chuckled with a shrug of her creamy shoulders. “Hopefully eating?”
He smacked his forehead, wishing like hell he was better at small talk. Glancing past her, the knot in his gut eased. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.” Her gaze swept up and down the bar. “You?”
“Aye.” He gestured to the stool next to him. “You’re welcome to join me.”
One-Eyed Bob shooed them with his gnarled hands. “That empty booth over there is calling your names. I’ll bring a fresh plate of shrimp and hush puppies.”
Drake shot him a look, but Bob didn’t seem to notice as he spun on his heel, heading for the kitchen. The elderly pirate was developing a habit of playing matchmaker. Already, three of his crewmates had found women worthy of joining their crew. Hell, Colton just got married.
“I’m piss-poor company.” Drake glanced at the booth. “But there’s shrimp and hush puppies in it for us, so…”
“You make it sound promising.” She raised a teasing brow. “But I wouldn’t want to interrupt a brooding session—”
“Brooding?” Laughter burst from his lips, surprising him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. “Do you always call it as you see it?”
“Well, you’re not the first brooder I’ve ever met.” Her lopsided smile spoke of secrets he ached to discover. “You’d think I would learn.”
An unfamiliar flame sparked in his soul at her declaration. The thought of another man hurting her…it pissed him off. Which made no sense. Neither did stepping in front of an armed man, but he’d done that for her, too.
What was it about this woman?
At the booth, he took a seat across from her and glanced at the empty doorway to the kitchen. Satisfied they were alone, he cleared his throat and found…nothing to say. “No cape tonight?”
Inwardly, he cursed himself for such a sad excuse at conversation with her, but he couldn’t reel the words back now.
“Nope.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “No tool belt tonight?”
“No.” He chuckled, amazed again at how deftly she crept underneath the suffocating blanket of guilt and spread her light. She was magic. “If Bob needs something fixed, he’ll have to handle it his own damned self.”
She grinned, her laughter warming him all over. “After last night’s…attack, or whatever it was, I’m glad to see you’re taking some time off.” She sobered. “How are you feeling?”
“Shitty, if you want an honest answer.” His admission shocked him.
“Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Did you have trouble sleeping?”
“You could say that.” He frowned. Had Colton been right? Did Heather bring on the banshee’s call? “Would you know anything about that?”
She shrugged. “Lucky guess considering you still haven’t told me what happened to you last night.”
“I’ve got it under control.” His ability to lie was almost as good as his damned small talk. This was why he enjoyed being the ship’s carpenter. Conversation and negotiation weren’t part of his job description.
“I gave you my card last night for a reason. If something paranormal is going on, it’s sort of my specialty.”
He frowned deeper, his brows pinching together. “Did you know I was going to have those dreams? Did you send them?”
“No.” Her eyes widened before she could bury her reaction. “I’m a medium. I bring messages from the other side. Magic and spells aren’t my thing. I don’t send dreams—or nightmares.”
One-Eyed Bob interrupted their exchange with a steaming platter of fried shrimp and hush puppies. He set an iced tea in front of Heather, with a sprig of mint sitting on top instead of a lemon.
He winked his good eye at Heather. “Just the way you like it.”
Gods, her smile lit up the room. “Thanks, Bob.”
The old salt went back to the kitchen, and Heather focused on Drake again. “Is there a story to go with the scar on your forehead?”
Her abrupt change in subject surprised him. He reached up to run his fingers along the smooth skin over his right eye. “Aye.” Careful to avoid any mention of a time frame, he said, “I noticed a loose cleat on the Sea Dog, but we were already underway. I thought I could reinforce it, but the sail pulled with a gust of wind and the damned thing snapped. I woke up a few hours later in the bunk.”
He put a hush puppy in his mouth before he shared more than he should.
“Wow.” She took a sip of her tea, her gaze wandering over his face. “You’re lucky it wasn’t tying down the mainsail mast or you could’ve been killed.”
He swallowed the salty fried bread. “Do you sail?”
“Not yet.” She picked up a shrimp. “But I play a lot of Skull & Crossbones online during the day since”—she lifted her pale arm, displaying her lack of pigment like a badge of honor—“the sun isn’t my friend.” She ate the shrimp. “I had a character get hit by a cleat during a storm. It killed him.”
Skull and crossbones online? Her words were English, but he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “You have a character?”
“Yeah. Skull & Crossbones is an online multiplayer game for your PC.”
That didn’t clear up a damned thing. He didn’t trust technology. If he couldn’t figure out how something worked and how to fix it, he didn’t keep it around. “I don’t even own a computer. I’m lucky I can work my cell phone.”
“I’ll have to teach you sometime. It takes place on the Indian Ocean during the golden age of piracy. If you like sailing that pirate ship docked on River Street, you’ll love playing virtual pirates.”
He doubted that, but he was enjoying letting her drive the conversation, so he nodded. “Maybe.”
She groaned with delight as she ate her first hush puppy, and the sound had blood rushing to his groin. “Oh, they’re still warm.” She finished it off and smiled. “So I’m guessing your story about the scar didn’t end with an emergency room and a plastic surgeon.”
“No.” A perk of drinking from the Grail meant he’d never been inside a hospital. “We didn’t have a doctor on board, so Greyson stitched me up.”
“Ouch.” She cringed. “He’s one of the guys who sails with you?”
“Aye.” He took a swallow of his beer. “He’s our master gunner. Part of the Sea Dog crew.”
“You need a gunner on a tourist ship?”
“Every pirate ship needs a man to maintain the cannons and munitions.” Hearing her refer to the replica of the Sea Dog as a tourist ship was starting to get under his skin. But he couldn’t correct her.
This was why he didn’t date. He couldn’t tell her he’d been on the original Sea Dog or that he sank with the ship in 1795. He’d already stayed at this table too long. “I better get going.”
“You can’t.” She pointed to the platter. “You have to help me eat this.” The playful spark in her bright eyes tempted him to stay. “Please?”
Fuck, she was entrancing him. She’d told him earlier she didn’t deal in magic, but every second he sat across from her, he found himself increasingly under her spell.
Drake settled back into the booth and snagged a shrimp, biting back a smile. “Ye drive a hard bargain, lass.”