Miss Bianca searched his eyes. “Fine.” She sighed and released the security chain on her door. “We’ll try. I’m not making you any promises, though.”
Her bare feet padded across the storefront and through the back door into a modest living space. She wore a black bonnet over her hair, black sweat pants, and a purple T-shirt. Pajamas. Shit, he hadn’t even checked the time.
“Sorry if I woke you.”
She slid her feet into a pair of leather flip-flops and glanced up at him. “You don’t have a clue what time it is, do you?”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter. If I don’t have that spell by tomorrow morning…” There weren’t words big enough for how much it was going to hurt if Heather died. She’d broken his heart tonight, but she was still alive and safe. That’s all that mattered.
Miss Bianca took off her bonnet as she crossed the room into a cramped kitchen space. She returned with a flashlight and handed it to Drake as she passed by to open a closet. “How much do you know about Loas?”
“Not much. They’re vodun gods.”
She hooked a large black tote over her shoulder, catching his eye before heading back into the kitchen. “I work with Met Agwe. He’s the patron Loa of the oceans. He flows through the rivers in Savannah out to the sea.” She took some chicken out of a plastic container and put it into the microwave. “We offer him a hot meal and we wait. No guarantees he’ll join us.”
Drake nodded. “All right.”
“If this is going to work, there are rules.”
“I understand.”
“First rule—” The microwave beeped and she turned. Steam rose from the chicken as she slid it out and lowered the container into a brown paper bag. “I’ll be meditating, so you’ll be quiet.”
“Aye.”
“And rule number two…” She glanced at the flashlight in his hand. “You’re going to keep watch for gators. There’s a reason I don’t usually do this work at night.” She shook her head. “Last thing. Met Agwe might not power this spell for you, at least not at a price you can afford.”
“I told you I’d die for her.” In spite of his broken heart, every word he’d spoken was true. If it were possible for him to lay down his life in order to save Heather, he would. He loved her. Fucking perfect time to realize it. They were about to walk into a lion’s den, and even if they lived, Heather never wanted to see him again. He clenched his jaw. “Nothing’s changed.”
“For your sake, I hope it doesn’t come to that.” Miss Bianca grabbed a few herbs, two well-used candles, one black and one white, and tucked them into a tote bag. Her dark eyes met his. “Let’s go.”
The moon cast an eerie light on the path as they made their way through the moss-covered trees toward the Savannah River. The ground squished under his boots as the marsh thickened. Miss Bianca’s pace never slowed. She seemed to know the way even when he couldn’t keep the flashlight beam ahead of her.
When they got to the water’s edge, she reached into her tote, took out a piece of folded black plastic, and laid it out on the soggy soil. She knelt on the plastic and quickly placed the candles, herbs, and a few crystals in a pattern that resembled a makeshift altar. She slid the chicken out of the bag and removed the plastic lid, holding the food toward the water.
“Met Agwe, I bring you an offering, and a request.” She placed the chicken in front of the candles and her voice dropped to a whisper as she chanted praises to her Loa.
Drake slowly moved the flashlight beam across the water, watching for any sign of movement. Alligators were silent hunters, and no doubt the chicken would attract them. He had no idea how long Miss Bianca would meditate, but he hoped this part of the ritual would be over soon. One gator could be dealt with. If a group showed up, he would need to grab her and haul ass to safer ground.
Bianca stood up so fast, Drake flinched. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him and poked his chest with her finger. “What are you?”
Drake raised a brow. “A carpenter. Why?”
She shook her head. “I’m working strong magic for you. I can’t do it if you lie.”
He frowned. “I’m not lying.”
“Met Agwe named his price. He wants your…immortality.” She tilted her head. “Does this make sense to you?”
Drake pulled his hair back from his forehead, puzzled. “How is that even possible?”
Her jaw dropped slightly. “So you are immortal?”
“Aye.” Drake rubbed his hand down his face, unsure where to start. He couldn’t give the Loa the Holy Grail, hell, he wasn’t even sure that was what the spirit wanted. As he understood it, Loas were already immortal beings. Why would he want the Grail? “I don’t know how to give him what he asks for.”
Bianca dropped her hand and took a step back, her eyes narrowing. “What kind of creature are you?”
“I’m no creature.” He’d never told another soul besides Heather about his crew’s secret, but if he wanted the magic to protect Heather from her sister, he was going to need Miss Bianca’s help. “I’m a pirate. I have been for over two hundred years. We plundered the Holy Grail in 1795. I took a swallow and I haven’t aged a day since.”
She digested the information, sizing him up. He expected disbelief or accusations about his story. That didn’t happen. Without another word, she dropped onto her knees on the mat, all business again.
Her attention was focused forward on the marsh’s murky waters, but the command was definitely for him. “Are you willing to pay his price?”
“I can’t give him the cup.”
“He doesn’t want a trinket. There is power in a never-ending life. It’s that magic he desires.” She glanced up at him and asked again. “Will you agree to his price?”
“Yes,”
