She didn’t reply right away.
David frowned. “Aura?”
“I’m here. I’ll be ready, sir.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll need some training. Witchcraft isn’t my specialty.”
David nodded. “Yeah. I’ll connect you with Petra in the occult division. She can give you the basics for an initiate.”
“Maybe she’d be a better fit for this assignment?”
David raised a brow. It wasn’t like Henderson to turn down a chance to go undercover. “Petra doesn’t have your weapons training.”
“Is this a violent coven?”
“I can’t be sure.” David sat on the edge of the bed again, staring down at the multicolored throw rug. “If my working theory is right, they managed to take the figurehead from the Serpent Society.”
“And the Serpents never would have sold it to a woman,” she replied without hesitation.
“Exactly. It may have been violent. I won’t know until we get inside. You’re the only agent I can send in for this one. I know it’s not your usual area, but if they killed to get this thing…”
“I understand, sir. I’ll find Petra when I get to the office.”
“Thanks, Henderson.”
He dropped his cell phone on the bed, wondering about her hesitation. His gut still told him she was the best pick for this detail, but he’d have to stay close.
If she needed backup, he’d be there.
…
The sky was just beginning to lighten as Drake drove up to Heather’s house. Shades of peach and pink bathed the heavens, a new day in an endless stretch of eternity. The sunrise left him unrenewed, his soul still empty from last night’s onslaught. This time Thomas had been relentless in his accusations, his attack focused on the soft spots in Drake’s spirit. The wounds that would never heal.
The boy wept for his suffering mother, Drake’s sister, and accused him of breaking the blood oath he’d given her that he would protect Thomas with his life. Drake had failed her on every level.
And although Heather warned him the spirit of his nephew was being controlled by others like a puppet, the words stung with truth and left him shaken to his core. Thomas was right. He didn’t deserve to be alive.
But he also couldn’t die. Would he spend eternity haunted until he sank into madness?
Greyson approached Drake’s truck with his customary swagger, shaking the carpenter out of his own private torture.
While most of the crew had blended into the current era with their jobs and clothes, even masking their true nautical accents, their gunner had taken another course. The calendar read 2020, but Greyson was every bit the pirate he’d always been. His long braids still hung down his back, and his sea legs gave him the confident, surefooted sway of a man who had passed through many storms and come away even stronger.
Greyson stopped at the driver’s side door. “How’d it go with the captain?”
“He wasn’t happy to see me, but I got the information I needed.” Drake scanned the dark windows of Heather’s house. “Any activity around here?”
Greyson shook his head. “Other than my brief encounter with the mistress of the house, all’s quiet.” He dug into his pocket and withdrew a gold coin, flipping it through his fingers. He claimed the action kept his mind focused. “I did come across an evil eye on the north side of the house.”
He reached into his coat pocket with his free hand and took out a round piece of blue glass with a white circle and another black dot, like a pupil, in the center. He dropped it into Drake’s hand. “Makes me think you’re right about her being in danger, but other than the trinket, no one else appeared.”
Drake turned the eye over, inspecting it before clenching his fist tight around the token. He met Greyson’s gaze. “Flynn thinks Heather’s twin sister, Ashley, is the head of the Digi Robins.”
Greyson’s eyes narrowed as he turned back toward the house. “Does Heather know?”
“I don’t think so, but we haven’t discussed it. She believes her sister is in danger, but maybe this piece of glass will help bring her around.”
Drake didn’t put much stock in magic, or at least he didn’t used to. Things were changing rapidly in that department. While the crew helped Department 13 recover Pandora’s Box from the Digi Robins thievery ring, Drake had built a replica of the box. Being in the same room with the vile thing unsettled him. He’d heard the whispers emanating through the cracks of the ancient chest of horrors. Evil promises and threats called to him, tempting him to open the lid, begging him to free them from their prison.
Since then, he’d caught himself checking over his shoulder at night, and the lack of sleep from the ghostly encounters wasn’t helping the growing paranoia festering in his gut. A few months ago, he would have laughed at the blue glass trinket. In the dim light of daybreak, the sight of it sent a shiver down his back.
Someone was wishing evil on Heather.
…
There was a knock on Heather’s door just before nine o’clock. The corner of her mouth twitched as she set her laptop aside and stood up. Drake was right on time. She opened the door and her smile faded. Drake’s gorgeous blue eyes were bloodshot and his tanned skin ashen. She stepped back to let him inside and closed the door behind him.
“You didn’t sleep last night.” She frowned, following him over to the sofa.
“Haven’t slept well in days.” He sat on her couch and ran a shaky hand down his face. “We need to talk about your sister.”
Heather shook her head. “I’ll handle Ashley. You should get some sleep.”
“They’ll get in my head. I’m safer awake.” He patted the couch beside him. “Yer the one in danger, lass.”
She sighed and
