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Clearly, it’s safe enough or he wouldn’t be asking me to open the door.
“Fine,” he says, and something bursts, causing bits to hit the chest and tumble along the floor.
Okay… Definitely not mortal. Elementals can’t weave and pluck magic… Their gifts are blessings from the gods that have been passed down through generations, not true magic from the soul, like mages and druids. They can overpower wards with strength, but it doesn’t smell the same. Whoever is in this room is either a druid or a mage, and their magic is potent, almost syrupy sweet to the point I have to force back a gag.
My mind whirls, thinking over every face I’ve seen. I’ve made it my business to know their abilities and there are quite a few mortal men on board, the elementals… only one man of druidic lineage comes to mind. The man I saw holding Zephyr’s hand. The cook, I think.
What was his name? I’ve barely said two words to the man. I’m not even sure I’ve heard him speak. What could he possibly want with me?
The man paces around the room and then stops next to the chest. He rests something on top of it, but it takes everything I have not to lurch out of my skin when his voice hits me. He must be crouched down, but somehow, he’s aware of exactly where my head is. It’s as if he’s talking directly into my ear through the wooden side of the trunk.
“You can’t hide in there forever.”
My blood runs ice cold, freezing in my veins. Even the air stills as he taps on the wooden box. I grip the knife. There’s no way I can come out of this box swinging. I’ve seen the sheer size of this man and he could snap me in half like a toothpick. Taking a dagger from my hand will be nothing for him. It’d be better if he doesn’t know I have it... I’m not sure if it’ll work, but if I don’t go willingly, there’s no way I can get upright and out of the chest before he attacks. Just as there’s no way I can fight him with magic.
Slowly, I slip the dagger down my shirt, working it into the waistband of my pants so the hilt is the only thing sticking out. Even then, I try to make it lined up with the straight plane of my thigh, hoping he won’t see it if I untuck my shirt. It’s Sebastian’s and is huge on me, coming down almost to my knees until I tuck the front in. The baggy fabric of the button-up might just be enough.
Just as I get it settled, the lid lifts, and ringed fingers lurch through the crevice before I can even see my attacker’s face. He rips me by my throat, lifting me to my feet as I grip his arm, holding him off just enough for me to breathe.
“There you are,” he coos, bringing my face so close to his that my feet dangle above the ground and I can make out every single freckle on his pale skin. His bright red hair wisps over his forehead, and deep brown eyes glare at me as if he’s looking into my very soul. Black inky lines curl up his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. Druidic symbols to enhance his magic. I’ve seen them in books, and I’ve heard of the practice of blood tattoos, but it’s been a long-forgotten practice to my understanding. Then again, druids and mages can extend their lifetimes hundreds and thousands of years. For all I know, this man might have existed while they were still in daily practice.
His grip isn’t tight enough to choke me, but it’s strong enough that I have to latch onto him to keep gravity from doing the job for him. His lips twist into a smile that has the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end. Then the brown rings of his eyes disappear, consumed by darkness. I almost lose my grip.
He’s… He’s possessed?
The man sets me down, gripping a handful of my hair before I can make it a single step away. His fingers drive into my hair, latching down and yanking my head at an awkward angle. I can barely keep up with his long strides as he pulls me down the hall, toward the lower levels.
Using my gift, I curl my fingers, closing my eyes to focus as much as I can. Pain sears through my scalp, but I push through, pulsing my magic out until translucent strings connect from my fingers to his limbs. Lifting on, I take control, forcing him to let go. But he grins wider than what should be possible, and magic slams into me, knocking me back into the wall. The world swims as my vision fades in and out, darkening by the second.
“Don’t worry, princess. I don’t plan on killing you yet. I need you alive.” He crouches down beside me, smoothing my hair out of my face. Everything rings and even his voice, though he’s right in front of me, is muffled as if I’m underwater. “This man is fighting harder than I expected. He wants his body back.”
Something twists deep inside me. It’s the witch… and she wants me.
Somehow, she managed to teether her mind—the pit in my stomach settles deeper as I put the pieces together. She must’ve scratched the man that shoved her into the pit. It only takes a drop of blood and enough stored magic to cast the spell. She waited until they pushed her from the plank, while the cuffs binding her magic were off to utter the spell. She only had seconds before hitting the water, yet she did it. She possessed him and after that, she must’ve hopped into the druid.
Tingles spread through my body, my nerves sparking like fireworks on the surface of my skin. Slowly, my vision starts to stabilize.
We’ve been played... The Crocodile, my father, whoever orchestrated that attack on the Western Isles knew Sebastian would come. They wanted the witch to get captured so she could possess someone on his crew. She did what was needed to survive when her body was swallowed up, but now she’s looking for the best host, and her sights have landed on me.
“What are you doing to them? The men on the deck?” I ask, plastering myself to the wall to put as much distance between the druid and me.
“Oh, just a game. This host was fun, but he’s too ancient. He’ll push me out soon, but you… You’re perfect. You can cozy up to the captain… with the right mind, you could make him do whatever you want. Especially with that talent of yours.”
The druid’s hand grips my arm as his head snaps to the right, toward the companionway. Lifting me to my feet like I weigh nothing, he drags me kicking and screaming deeper into the ship. He clears the storage bay doors, warding them shut in seconds with strings so tightly wound, that I can’t see the wooden planks of the doors anymore.
My magic pushes and pulls, trying to take control and force him to let me go, but it’s no use. She’s right, he’s ancient and there’s no way I’ll be able to keep a hold of him for more than a second or two.
I try again, putting every ounce of strength I have into controlling him. My strings attach, my fingers curl, and I feel the energy sapping away from my body faster than ever.
The druid chuckles as he steps closer, unsheathing a knife from his hip. “Hold still. It won’t hurt.”
I grind my teeth, feeling my witch mark burn into my shoulder blades. Normally, the glow feels like static electricity running over my skin, but with how much power I’m using, today it feels like an inferno. I’ve used magic enough in my lifetime to know it won’t actually burn me, but gods… It feels like it.
I cry out, holding the strings as much as I can. The druid catches the orange glow, or something behind me. And in the split second that his eyes leave my form, glancing past me, I yank the dagger from my waistband. I grip the hilt tight and drive it through the man’s heart. His eyes widen and I kick out, planting my boot against his stomach.
The druid pulls the dagger from his chest, dropping, and sending it clattering to the ground as blood pours from the wound. “You’re…” the witch sputters, coughing up blood as the druid she’s possessing stumbles backward.
I yank the strings again, this time bringing the dagger the witch intended to cut me with to the druid’s throat. With a jerk of my pinky, his arm wretches to the side and the blade nips deep into his skin. Limb by limb, his body collapses onto the floor. He’s dead… and since she didn’t have a chance to hop hosts, she is too. It’s over…
