“They were. Apparently the target has changed.”
He took the salt and ran. Heather was right where he left her. Her face shone with sweat and tears rolled freely from her eyes. He made a circle of salt around her. “They lie, love. She makes them lie.”
Heather coughed, gripping her head and struggling to control the sobs shaking her chest. “I’m…fine. Save the others.”
“Stay here.” He hustled around the deck, circling each afflicted crew member with salt.
“What the hell is happening?” Caleb jogged up the steps from the lower deck. The ship’s navigator was more comfortable with his books than his crew, but his loyalty never wavered.
“The witch is using the figurehead to command the dead.” Drake finished circling Colton and moved on to Greyson.
Caleb flipped his head, knocking the unruly curls of his black hair away from his face. “How can I help?”
“The witch needs a personal item for the ghosts to find you.” Drake glanced his way. “You’re the smartest member of the crew. Find out what connects all these men and Heather.”
“And why didn’t it affect you and me?” Caleb mumbled, already pondering the problem.
Drake circled Greyson before rushing to John’s side. Blood trickled from the boatswain’s nose and ears. The figurehead’s magic was hurting him, but the Grail would keep him alive. Drake circled him on the deck while shouting to the others, “Stay inside the salt until we figure out what’s going on.”
John sat up, wiping his nose. “What the fuck was that?”
“I’ll explain in a minute.” Drake sprinted to the wheel where Keegan sat with his knees pulled into his chest and his head buried between them. His shoulders shook with sobs.
Drake gripped his shoulder. “They lie, Keegan. Don’t listen.”
He trailed a line of salt around Keegan that included the wheel. In case they couldn’t break Ashley’s spell, at least Keegan could pilot them back to shore. Drake rose to his full height, searching the deck. “Where’s Eli?”
All of the crew had come aboard to sail tonight except for Captain Flynn and his first mate, Duke.
Greyson’s voice broke as he pointed toward the rear of the ship. “He went to the stern to pull up a shrimp net for One-Eyed Bob.”
Drake shook the canister. There was still some salt left. Not much. “I’ll find him.”
He ran down the deck, shouting for Eli. Greyson’s apprentice was every bit as old as the rest of the crew now, even though he still appeared to be a young eighteen-year-old kid. It was tough to shake that impression even after centuries together. Eli was the younger brother to the entire crew, and they all looked out for him.
No one replied.
Drake rounded the corner, shocked to find the deck empty. “Eli?”
Maybe he’d been immune to Ashley’s power like Drake and Caleb and One-Eyed Bob. Drake gripped the salt tighter, heading for the corner where the shrimp net was tied off. “Eli? Where are you?”
No reply. With his heart lodged in his throat, he leaned over the railing. Eli dangled from the netting, both wrists slashed. The wounds were still present, so he’d cut them in the last few minutes. Eli had fought the spirits’ torment as long as he could. He’d heal soon.
Drake set the salt aside and wove his fingers into the netting to get a solid grip, then with all the strength he could muster, he tugged, leaning back and grunting with the effort. One step, then one more.
“Shit!” Caleb rushed over to help Drake.
Drake tilted his head toward the rail, spitting his words out through clenched teeth. “Grab Eli. He’s tangled in the net.”
Caleb bent over the railing. “I’ve got him.”
With Caleb bracing Eli’s weight, Drake wrenched the net over his shoulder and turned around, leaning into it as he walked to the other side of the ship, dragging the net and Eli on board.
Caleb scooped Eli into his arms, carrying him away from the net. “He’s free.”
Drake dropped the net, exhaustion biting at all his limbs. “Thanks, mate.”
“Where should I put him?” Caleb cradled Eli, a feat, since Eli was taller than Caleb by at least four inches.
“Take him to the bow with the others. I’ll circle him with salt.”
“Aye.”
Caleb turned and walked away while Drake bent down to retrieve the salt canister. What lies had the spirits told Eli to drive him overboard? He’d heal, but seeing him lifeless had shaken Drake to his core.
Death.
The reaper lost his power when they drank from the cup the first time, and recently when the healing effects started to wane, they’d all taken a second sip. Everyone except Colton. He chose to remain mortal and start a family.
Someday they would lose him.
Just like he would lose Heather if she refused to drink.
He followed Caleb back to the others, conflicting emotions gnawing at his insides. He could be sure of only one thing. Tomorrow he would go back to Miss Bianca, and no matter the cost, he would have the power to save the woman he loved.
…
David took the file from Janice Kwan, Department 13’s top attorney, and tucked it under his arm. “Thanks for getting the warrant so quickly.”
“Did you have any doubt?” She raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “Although your team gave me compelling evidence of her connection to the Digi Robins, you need to be aware that once you charge her, she has the funds to hook up with a pricey defense lawyer. Without a clear confession to the crime, she could make bail, and a woman with her IT skills will have no trouble creating a new identity and leaving the country. You’ll lose her.”
David rubbed his forehead. “So without a confession we’re screwed?”
She gave him a halfhearted shrug. “I’m just saying a signed confession would help keep her in custody until the trial.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She handed him another sheet on a clipboard. “I just need you to sign here that you’re the acting officer on the warrant.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and…he patted his other
