Drake choked on the rest of his words, and the flashlight fell from his hand. Agony surged through his entire body like a violent wave. Drake dropped to his knees, his mouth open but unable to scream. His muscles atrophied, his bones ached, and his head throbbed. The pain crawled out onto his skin, like being stung by a thousand mosquitoes all at once, itching and burning. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes as he struggled to steady himself on his hands and knees. Another painful wave hit and had him sliding on the muddy ground as he twisted against the onslaught. His vision wavered, blackness encroaching. The world spun, faster and faster, until he vomited. He coughed and gagged until there was nothing left, and rolled onto his side.
And then it stopped.
He blinked, staring at the glowing bile on the ground. What the hell just happened?
Miss Bianca reached into the brown bag that she’d brought the chicken in and withdrew a ziplock bag. Without flinching or hesitating, she scooped up the fluorescent vomit and closed the baggie. Her gaze lifted to his face.
“You’ll have your root. It will heal any wound, even bring someone back from the other side.” She searched his face. “You won’t be able to use it on yourself, so whatever you’re messed up in tomorrow, don’t get killed.”
Drake got to his feet, opening and closing his hands. He didn’t feel any different, but then he hadn’t when he drank from the cup, either. Mortal. Death was on the table again. He pondered the thought, half expecting regret. All he sensed right now was relief. He could bring Heather to her sister in the morning, and if the witch killed her, he could bring her back without a sip from the cup. This was a higher price than he expected to pay, but it was too late to take it back. Besides, he hadn’t been lying when he said he’d die for her. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
He reached for the fallen flashlight, and Miss Bianca caught his arm.
“One more thing. If you drink from the Grail again, you’ll die. Your soul has been marked by Met Agwe. I could have warned you about this if you had been honest about your immortality before the deal had begun.”
“Just give me the magic to save her. That’s all I care about.”
She blew out the candles and collected her baubles, leaving only the chicken behind. “Let’s go.”
Once they were back in her shop, Miss Bianca rushed around her apothecary table, grinding herbs and mixing them with drops of his vomit. The resulting concoction had the texture of thick dough. She mashed it flat, dusting it with something chalky before rolling it into a six-inch-long cylinder. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stuffed the roll into a cotton satchel. She pulled the drawstrings tight and sealed it further with candle wax.
Resting her hands on the table on either side of the magical root, she sighed. “In order for the magic to work, you will need to open the pouch, break off a piece of the root and place it in her mouth.”
“Is there a time limit?”
“I don’t know.” She lifted her head and straightened up. “I’ve never made a spell like this before. I can tell you every minute a soul spends on the other side makes it more difficult to pull them back.”
She handed him the satchel. “How do you feel?”
He weighed the small bag in his hand before tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Hopeful.”
“Really?” She chuckled. “I would think giving up immortality would upset most people.”
“I never asked for it anyway.” He met her eyes. “This is the lifetime I care about.”
She unlocked the front door for him. “Good luck, pirate.”
“Thank you.” He shook her hand. “If you ever need anything, I’ll be there for you.”
“I may call in that favor someday.” Her lips curved and a spark lit her eyes, reminding him again of their first meeting. She seemed too young to carry so much old wisdom. “And I’m expecting eighty gold pieces, too.”
He nodded. “I have your fee in the truck.”
After he paid Miss Bianca, he drove back to Savannah, praying he’d never have to use the spell. To any gods who might be listening, please help me keep Heather safe in the morning.
Also, he’d have to be careful and keep himself alive during the encounter. Cuts and bullet holes wouldn’t heal by themselves. He wasn’t immortal anymore.
If he wanted another chance with Heather, he’d need to remember that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Heather woke up and showered, doing her best to pretend she wasn’t about to face off with her twin sister who was threatening to commit murder if her demands weren’t met. Her own flesh and blood. Heather desperately wanted to wake up and discover this was all a twisted nightmare. Her life was intent on spiraling into a dangerous paranormal soap opera.
And to add to the drama, she’d be going into this snake pit with Drake, the man she loved enough to let go.
The drive home last night had been silent. He had every right to be angry, and she welcomed it. It would make it easier to go their separate ways. Someday he would understand. He’d find someone who could sail with him in broad daylight, and she’d be willing to take that drink and live forever with him.
God, just the thought of Drake smiling at another woman, imagining his hands caressing someone else’s body, curdled her stomach.
This was for the best.
Too bad knowing that didn’t ease the ache in her heart or fill the empty spot in her soul. Maybe nothing would. She rolled her eyes and leaned back to rinse the conditioner from her hair. What did that even mean, to love someone enough to let them go? It sounded noble in books. It hurt to see it play out in real life. Lying about how she truly felt was
