She hesitated for a moment before snatching it from his hand, as though touching his skin might burn her. Clutching the stone, she closed her eyes. Color returned to her face and her clothes.
Smiling, she lifted her head. “I’m free.”
The trinity stone clinked on the sidewalk as Lori faded from this plane of existence. Too bad the banshee wail didn’t vanish with her. David crawled forward, struggling to retrieve the stone. The tremors in his hands were costing him time. He’d learned one thing. The figurehead only controlled the spirits of souls lost at sea and claimed by Davy Jones.
He clutched the smooth black stone in his fist. If Davy Jones was some sort of demon, then touching the Trinity Stone could free the souls from the Flying Dutchman’s captain, which meant Ashley couldn’t control them with the figurehead anymore.
Fuck. If he could hear himself think, he would’ve been able to come up with a workable plan. Right now all he could manage was one thought.
Stop her.
David ground his teeth, his jaw clenching against the wave of nausea as he stood up. The screeching intensified with each step closer to Ashley’s house. In spite of the sweat stinging his eyes, he kept his focus forward, fixated on his singular goal. One step at a time, each more difficult than the last.
By the time he reached her door, his breathing was labored and his gut tied in knots. He drew his Glock, unable to keep it from shaking. With his other hand he twisted the knob. Locked. He smashed the gun through the side window and stretched his arm inside to unfasten the deadbolt. Somewhere in the depths of his tortured mind it registered this was against rules, against the law, but he didn’t slow. Survival was more important.
He stumbled through the door, wincing as the volume ramped up in his head. Ashley was on the couch. Or what used to be Ashley. He blinked, lifting his weapon in her direction. She didn’t move. Her eyes were pure red and unblinking, her mouth shaped in a perfect O, and although she was indoors with all the windows and doors closed, her hair…floated. Like she was underwater.
He rubbed his arm across his forehead, fighting for coherent thought. It was an impossible errand against the shrieks in his head. Even so, he couldn’t shake the idea that maybe…Ashley was the figurehead.
Suddenly she blinked, her eyes once again human. Her mouth snapped shut, silencing the banshee in his head. Before he could squeeze his trigger finger, the world went dark.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Stay inside your circles,” Heather cautioned the crew from her own circle of salt. She turned to Drake. “Ashley needs something meaningful to you in order for the spirits to locate you. I noticed my grandmother’s ring was missing tonight. Ashley must be using it to attack me.” She glanced at the others. “What could she have taken from all of you?”
Colton and John shared a look before the quartermaster answered, “The ship’s colors.”
“The pirate flag?” Heather wasn’t so sure. “Why wouldn’t her spell have affected the entire crew? Drake, One-Eyed Bob, and Caleb were spared.”
The cook spoke first. “The three of us have never raised the colors. I’m always in the galley, Drake is making repairs to the ship, and Caleb stays busy with his navigation charts. I can’t remember the last time I touched the fabric of that old flag.”
“He’s right,” Drake replied. “I can see it in my sleep, but I’ve never laid a finger on it.”
Caleb gave a ponderous nod. “Me neither.”
“Everyone else has raised the flag?” Heather scanned the nodding crew members. “All right. It won’t be safe for any of you to sail tonight. The ring of salt is the only thing keeping the spirits away.”
Drake’s attention shifted from the elderly pirate cook to their bookish navigator and then turned toward Heather. “We can’t sail the Sea Dog back to port with only three men. There aren’t enough of us to tack into the wind. The ship’s too damn big.”
Heather’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Goose bumps rose on her arms as she withdrew the cell. Her sister’s name lit up the screen.
She cleared her throat and accepted the call. “Ash?”
“I have your ex tied up in my basement. You have until tomorrow morning to meet me at my house. Bring Drake. Anyone else tags along and you’re all dead.”
“Since you just attacked the entire Sea Dog crew tonight, I’m guessing you already know we’re out to sea. We’ll never make it back to Savannah by morning unless you stop the spirits from tormenting the crew.”
“Done.” Ashley’s voice morphed into a feral snarl. “I’ll see you and Drake at my door in the morning, or pretty Agent Bale’s blood is all over your snow-white hands.”
The call ended and Heather got to her feet. Whatever her sister was planning, it wasn’t good. But she couldn’t let her kill David. Heather’s hands trembled. Her twin sister was threatening to kill someone, and for the first time, Heather truly believed Ashley would follow through on her threat.
She took a deep breath and stepped over the salt barrier.
“What the hell are you doing?” Drake rushed to her side.
“I told Ashley she had to call off her spirits so we can sail back to port. I’m just checking to see if she did.”
Drake gave her a little space, but not much. Not since her grandmother passed away had she had someone in her corner, supporting her and believing in her. It would be so easy to love him. Setting him free would be another story.
She pushed the thought from her mind and listened for any screeching banshees.
He took her hand, his jaw tight with worry. “Hear anything?”
“Not yet.” She looked over at Colton. “You next.”
He got up, wiping his brow before stepping across the barrier. “Nothing.”
“Good. We have to get
