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You’ll drown. You’re too weak to do something like that.Too weak.
Doing my best to ignore the voice, I shut my eyes and pictured the beach. I had no idea if the tide was in or out. Really, though, the sandbar went out quite a way from the shore, which is why only row boats could approach the dock. If I could get close enough, I might get my boots wet, but I could slog my way in. Did I dare to try?
“Don’t have much choice,” I murmured. The hawk’s scream made my decision easy. It still circled the boat without alighting, a threatening shadow in the night.
The fog continued to thicken, and for a moment I worried that my magic wouldn’t be able to penetrate it. “Only one way to know for sure.”
For this venture to be successful, I had to believe it was possible. Any doubts would send me splashing to a watery, well, if not grave, then a watery bath.
“A Fairchild never doubts.” I heard my father’s pompous words and as usual, they made me laugh. Still, in this circumstance, he had a point. Glancing around, my gaze landed on the piled-up nets. They’d be fairly long. I could fling one in the direction of the shore, picture a bridge, use more power than I ever thought possible, and run like the dickens.
The bridge I pictured was wooden, the slats just wider than me. The slats were tied together, and while there was no railing, I wouldn’t need one. I’d run. I brought my hands to my mouth and took a few deep breaths, letting my moist exhalation warm my fingers. Well aware that I’d might only get one attempt, I waited until my tremors stopped and a sense of calm washed over me.
Then, picking up the top net, I went as far forward as I dared. Clutching the mast with one hand, I held the net in the other. Without giving the voice time to threaten my sense of purpose, I did as I planned.
Channeling all the power I could grab, I threw the net.
Nothing. The bit I held slipped through my fingers and the whole thing splashed down. Small buoys tied to the corners kept it from sinking completely, but one wave took it out of my reach.
I gulped. There was one more net. I had to try again.
This time the doubts were harder to fight down, the voice alternating between threat and mockery. I had to do this. Rafe needed the amulet. Rafe. Maybe I couldn’t channel his power, but I could make use of my desire for him. With his image in my mind, I closed my eyes – the fog limited what I could see anyway – sank myself into the memory of his strength, and reached for what was left of my power. And then I threw the net.
Rather than splash and sink, a glowing wooden bridge stretched into the fog.
I ran.
The fog was so thick I could see only a few slats ahead of me, which is how I ran right off the bridge and into the water. Fortunately, I managed to stay upright, and the water didn’t reach my knees. I ruined my boots, but I made it.
Relief warred with cockiness, because yes, I’d made a bridge. Then a wave broke against the back of my legs, reminding me I still had some distance to travel. One hand on the box, to make sure it was still in my pocket, I slogged the rest of the way to the beach. There’s no walking quietly when you’re shin-deep in water. I just had to hope no one was near.
Splashing footsteps gave way to crunching on gravel. Figures moved in the fog ahead of me, so I stopped once I cleared the last wave. There were at least two, maybe three, and they were silent as they went about their mysterious task.
The hawk gave a fearsome screech and I stumbled toward Rafe’s workshop. It was close to the water, and while there was no glow of light from the window, I’d feel safer under the eaves.
Now that I was here, I needed to plan my next steps.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Where was Rafe? Margaret? Della? The hawk cried out again. One of the figures on the lawn answered. “Go away. You’ll only cause trouble.”
Rutger, although I was unsure whether I’d truly recognized his voice or if his pulp fiction dialogue was the clue.
“I told you how to lay them out. Why are you dawdling?” This was surely Rutger. He must be setting up a ritual of some kind. The thought weighed on me. Whatever he had planned would go beyond my power to stop.
The thought that I might have to fight against a friend weighed heavily on my heart. Before it could sap me of my will to act, I slipped around the corner of the workshop.
The door was unlocked. Rafe wouldn’t be here but being in the presence of his creations calmed me. The foghorn sounded, reassuring me that at least some things were going as expected.
I debated my next move. Alone in a place of relative safety, exhaustion washed over me. Making a bridge had taxed me, and for a moment, all I could do was fall into Rafe’s chair and breathe. I didn’t have long, but before anything else, I needed to restore myself.
The tower was likely to be guarded, though likely the guard wouldn’t know how to wind the light. That could cause other problems, big problems, so big my mind shied away from them. We’d deal with a shipwreck if it happened. Otherwise, I wouldn’t borrow trouble.
That left the house and the woods. If Rutger hadn’t figured out how to secure Rafe, he’d be in the trees. I straightened, rocking my shoulders to loosen them.Lord. There was no way in hell I would attempt to navigate the forest in this fog. If Rafe was there, he’d be able to take care of himself.
That left the house. I stood, my legs still shaky, and gently opened the door. No one was outside, and I was on the opposite side of the building from where Rutger and his cronies had been shuffling about. The front door, however, was quite near where they’d been working. That created a bigger challenge.
Keeping close to the wall of the house, I walked along, taking care to make no noise. The ground underfoot was soft dirt with patches of grass, which helped. There was a light in the first window. The bedroom Margaret and Della had been sharing. Della lay on the bed, a bandage across her forehead. I listened carefully, though the only noise was the steady roll of the waves.
