Then,everything seemed to happen in slow motion, even though my bodyforced itself against the blanket of time around us, I couldn’tmove fast enough to save him. I watched as Maria’s silver bladecaught the light of the fire and sliced through young Charlie’sneck, blood spewed and fell to the forest floor.
She let hiscorpse crumble at her feet and flung her blade again, toward me,its thick edge catching my upper shoulder. The force of her thrustand the sudden pain knocked me back and I fell to the ground whereI heard the crushing sound of hard plastic breaking. My eyeswidened in horror when I realized what the sound was.
The snowglobe. My ticket home.
I accidentallycashed it in and I felt the threads of time beginning to pull meinto oblivion.
“No!” Iscreamed again as I reached out for Henry.
But it was toolate. The last image I took with me was that of my beloved, eyesbulging, his mouth gaped from screaming as he clawed his way towardme, and the hands of everyone around covered his body, pulling himaway.
And then therewas darkness.
Continue Henry and Dianna’s epic adventure in book twoof the Dark Tides series, The Pirate Queen. Get yourswherever books are sold, or keep reading for an exclusive look atthe first chapter in book two, The Pirate Queen to find out whereDianna’s adventure takes her next!
DarkTides – Book Two - The Pirate Queen – Chapter One
You get used to waking up to the rolling of the sea.It lulls you to sleep at night and softly coaxes you awake eachmorning. I used to hate it. But after a while, sleeping on land ina big, comfy bed, it’s like being held in place by the world,unable to move. Everything’s too still. The best is sleeping up ondeck in the dead of Summer, blanketed by the heavy August humiditybut cooled by the twilight chill that creeps in. Sleeping up thereis the wise when you share a ship with twelve burly pirates.
A moan escapedmy body as I rolled over, my hair tousling in the morning wind. Buta sudden pain in my shoulder forced me to roll back. Did I fallasleep next to Finn? Did the giant Scotsman crush my shoulder inthe dead of night? I attempted to turn over once more, but the painwas too much, I could barely move. But, something else was off.Everything felt… wrong. There was no gentle heaving of the ship.The wind didn’t carry with it the misty drops of seawater. I felt anchored. Steady. The same aswhen I’m on land. Then I remembered, the visions rushing back to melike a movie stuck on fast forward.
“Henry!”
I boltedupright, panic and adrenaline suddenly alive in my veins, pushingthe blood throughout my body with a hard rush. A quick look aroundtold me that I was alone, but also dumped on the side of a lumpyhill. More memories flashed through my mind; the Celtic witchchanting, the glowing bottle, a raging fire, then Henry’s desperateface as I…
I craned myneck to search again, trying to find some resemblance of my where Iwas… or when I was. My eyes collected the information as ifit were picking crumbs off the floor; rocky hillside, the ocean inthe distance, the strange metallicsmell in the air. More images flashed across my vision; Maria’ssword, the snow globe. My head shot upwards and I found the loomingstone structure far above me.
SignalHill.
I was nestledon a nook in the side of the steep cliff that descended from SignalHill, at least fifty feet from the road above. I had to get upthere but, as I lifted the flap of my red pirate’s coat, Idiscovered that the whole left side of my torso was soaked in bloodand my arm hung from it like a sack of meat and bones I’d slungover my shoulder. But I had to get off the hill. I had to find helpand get back to Henry.
If he wasstill alive.
No. I shookthose thoughts from my brain. He was still alive, he had to be. Ihad to believe that, hold on to it with certainty. I forced my bodyto move. My good arm grabbed a rock nestled in the hillside abovemy head and hauled myself up. My limbs shook as I held my grip andstraightened my legs, every ounce of my energy coming to thesurface and burning up faster than I could summon it. Finally, inan upright position, my body relaxed against the grassy hillside,completely spent from the couple of feet I’d moved. My eyes slowlyscanned upward until they reached the top where I could vaguely seethe stone railing that lined the road to the Signal Hill tower. Itfelt like light years away.
“Help!” Iscreamed. “Anyone!” But my attempts were futile. The landmark hadbeen cleared of sightseers. I wanted to cry but it would have beena waste of what little energy I had. No one was going to help, Ihad to get off the hill myself.
“Come on,brain,” I told myself, “work.” I couldn’t pull myself up the hill,that was made pretty clear after my weak attempt. Then, I noticedthe evidence of wear marks in thegrass in the short distance. My eyes followed the overgrownfootpath as it made its way along the side of the hill and,eventually, led to the road above. Relief flooded my body. I couldslowly follow the trail, step by step, without having to expel whatlittle energy I possessed. It would take longer, but at least Icould be certain I’d reach the top.
Bit by bit, Ipushed my feet along the wear line in the grass, slowly incliningas I went. My weak and damaged body demanded to stop and takebreaks every few feet, which I gladly obliged, knowing I was makingprogress. Eventually, as the sun entered a high point in themid-morning sky, I reached therocky road that led the way to
