Heather reached for his hand. “It means it took over two hundred years for our souls to find each other again. That much and that little.”
This couldn’t be real. He rubbed the back of his neck, breaking eye contact. Could she be right? Could souls reconnect across lifetimes and oceans of time? He dropped his hand to his side, looking her way again. “How is any of that ‘little?’”
“Just because we found each other here and now doesn’t mean we get to pick up where you left off with Lucy. I’m not her. Not in this lifetime, anyway.” Her crooked smile warmed him. “But I’m open to making new memories.”
“New memories?” He started to smile, but before he could say anything else, a screech stabbed through his skull, piercing like a harpoon through his mind. Drake stumbled backward, gripping his head in his hands. Through the wailing, Thomas’s voice cried, “Save me. Please. Uncle Drake, don’t let me die.”
Drake covered his ears. The memories and nightmares had taunted him for centuries, but this was different. The night the Sea Dog was lost, Thomas had never begged.
“Fuck off,” he grunted, his eardrums pulsating, aching for relief.
“You left me.” The boy’s cries became a shout, reaching him past the banshee’s high-pitched yowl. “I rotted at the bottom of the ocean. Forgotten! Coward!”
Suddenly Thomas’s tear-stained face filled his head and a strangled sob caught in Drake’s throat. “Never. I…I visit.”
“Liar!”
He flinched.
“An empty plot at the Bonaventure. I’m not there, Uncle. My bones were picked clean by scavengers like garbage!”
“No, no, no…” Drake kept his eyes shut tight, willing the torment to cease. Praying, begging for silence.
“You should be dead, Uncle. Not me. Why won’t you die?”
…
Heather left Drake in the living room and ran into the kitchen. In the lower cupboard near the sink, she grabbed her canister of sea salt and a fresh bundle of sage. By the time she got back to the living room, Drake was doubled over at the waist, covering his ears and grunting.
“Get out of my fucking head!”
Heather opened the spout and circled him with the salt. The moment the circle was complete around him, he dropped to his knees, gasping for air.
She gripped the canister with white knuckles. “Are they gone?”
He nodded his head without looking up. “It was Thomas.”
She took the sage over to the abalone shell and lit the end, allowing it to smolder. “Stay inside the ring of salt for now.”
He lifted his head, his bright blue eyes rimmed in red. “I lied to you that night about not being anyone’s uncle. I’m sorry.”
She knelt in front of him, being careful not to break the protective ring of salt. “I didn’t cause this.”
“I know.” His gaze searched her, desperation and fear shadowing his strong features. His voice broke. “I left that boy to Davy Jones. This is my fault.”
“No.” Thomas’s words echoed through Heather’s mind as she shook her head. “That’s what the witches want you to think.”
“I held him as the sea claimed us.” He broke eye contact, his shoulders falling under the weight of the guilt he carried. “I meant to perish with him, so he wouldn’t be alone, but the cursed cup denied my wish. I don’t know how I ended up on the banks of the river.”
Heather caught his chin, pulling his focus back to her. The pain in his gaze stabbed at her heart. “Thomas came to me that night because he was afraid for you, not because he blamed you. Whoever has conjured his spirit out of the sea wants to make you feel responsible.”
“It was Thomas.” His voice wavered. “I heard his voice.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t know how they’re doing this, but I’m going to find out.” She ran her finger along the stubble of his cheek, needing to soothe him, aching to ease his pain. Usually she kept her distance from others, but her connection to him was far from usual. This pull to ease his pain was instinctual, like breathing. “That little boy loves you, Drake. That’s why he was so desperate for me to warn you.”
“And you did that.” He covered her hand with his, sending a charge of awareness up her arm. “My crew will help me. I don’t want to put you in danger.”
She slid her hand free and stood up, immediately aching from the loss of his touch. “As far as I can tell, no one else on your crew can communicate with the dead. You need me.”
Time slowed as he got to his feet, rubbing his hands on his jeans. He straightened to his full height and stared directly into her soul. If he tried to push her away for her own safety, she was going to scream. Their souls had found each other again. It meant something, and she was strong enough to see it through. Was he?
His gaze searched hers, and Drake nodded. “Then we work as a team.”
“Good.” She pointed at the salt. “Try stepping out of the ring and let’s see if the spirits return.”
He took a tentative step and then another.
She held her breath, but he seemed fine.
“It’s quiet,” he whispered.
“Good.” She caught his hand, leading him toward the stairs. “We have work to do.” He didn’t move. She looked over her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Now that my brain isn’t trying to bleed out my ears, I think whoever is behind this doesn’t know my secret.”
She raised a brow. “About the Grail?”
He reached up to rub his forehead. “Before you poured the salt, Thomas asked why I wouldn’t die.” He met her eyes. “The banshee is for me, but I don’t think they realize they can’t collect.”
…
David closed the document file in the browser window and picked up his phone. He pressed Kingsley’s number and waited.
“Yes?” The Brit answered as
