Leashing the Tempest (Arcadia Bell #2.5)(13)

But it was the sound that followed, the sound of feet racing across the roof that made my stomach drop.

Whatever the hell that thing was, I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to stand around and wait for it to attack. I looked at Lon and spoke in a low voice. “Captain’s quarters. I can charge the cloaking magick around the captain’s doorframe.”

He nodded once.

“Lock the door to the deck,” I told Kar Yee as I retrieved my jacket from the jumble of loose things sliding around the rocking cabin.

Lon waved at Jupe. “Help me.”

With dueling grunts, father and son lifted the captain from behind the bar. Kar Yee and I trailed them as they carted Christie’s limp body through the kitchen, down the hall to his quarters. He moaned a little when they set him on his narrow bed—a good sign. We watched him for a moment but saw no other movement. At least he wasn’t in a coma.

Lon acted as my lookout while I inspected the cabin’s sigils to make sure everything was hunky-dory. I found connecting points in the cornejumrs of the room, the floor, and the ceiling. It was nice work; whoever the captain had hired knew what they were doing. And it wouldn’t take much to recharge it.

I searched an inner pocket of my jacket and found a couple of magical supplies I usually carried just in case. One of them was a portable caduceus, a carved magician’s stave with a thick core of graphite. I used a much bigger one in the bar, but miniatures were good for smaller spells like this. I palmed the caduceus, cracked my neck, and shook out my arms.

“Be careful,” Lon said. “The lightning strike . . .”

Yeah. I was a little worried about how that had affected my energy stores, too. Heka isn’t limitless. I stilled my mind and reached out for current. Didn’t take long for me to hone in on a fat supply nearby—likely the yacht’s batteries, from the sluggish, stale feel I got when I tugged and siphoned, but it was active enough to kindle Heka. When I felt the current catch, I took it slower, testing to make sure I wasn’t going to implode or anything. I didn’t, so I kept going.

Just when my cells felt like they were buzzing and I could take no more, I positioned the caduceus over a sigil on the doorframe and pushed. Bright-white Heka surged from the caduceus. One by one, like dominoes falling, the sigils lit up.

Post-magick nausea punched me in the gut, not that I had a chance to dwell on it. Lon pushed me inside the captain’s quarters and hastily slid the door shut. Kar Yee’s arm shot out to lock it.

And not a second too soon. A loud crash sounded from the salon.

We all stood stock-still, trying to listen over the cacophony of the storm, as four-too-many people crammed inside a space that was barely big enough for one. After a moment, another crash drew our attention. Jupe whimpered. I snagged his hand as the boat pitched. It sounded like the creature was moving around the cabin, but just when I thought it might be heading down the crew hallway, I heard glass breaking.

Then it was quiet.

“Is it gone?” Jupe finally whispered after a long moment.

I had no idea.

Kar Yee leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “Does the spell cloak noise?”

“Mostly,” I said. “Don’t yell or bang on the walls.”

But no one said anything for several minutes until Kar Yee piped up again. “Someone needs to find out if it’s still there. We can’t just sit in here and drift across the Pacific in a coffin for hours.”

I was closest to the door. “So I guess I’ll just peek outside. . . .”

Lon pulled the flare gun out of his jacket.

“What do you expect to do with that, set the boat on fire?”

“Stay low and I’ll aim high.”

I grumbled and crouched, then flipped the lock and slid the door open a few inches at a time. Nothing but darkness in the hallway. No noise but the storm and the sound of waves crashing against the hull. I stuck my head around the doorframe, craning my ng. craninneck to look toward the salon. The windows filtered a dull gray light over the lounge area. I could make out shapes of the sofas and the edge of the bar. Could see the door leading out onto the deck. But I couldn’t see any movement other than the occasional stray soda can, dumped from our cooler, rolling around on the floor.

It took me a few seconds to realize I was focusing my sights too far. At the end of the hallway, between the captain’s quarters and the salon, a silhouette stood in the small kitchen. It had feet—or legs, at least. Arms, too. But something was . . . off. I lifted my searching gaze to its shoulders. Its face tilted to look at the ceiling.

A second face followed.

And a third.

Three heads. And all of them were sniffing the air.

All the small hairs on my neck and arms stood erect. I jerked back and slid the door shut, almost crushing Lon’s flare gun in the process. Our hands collided as we rushed to flip the lock.

“What?” Jupe whispered loudly. “Is it still there?”

“In the kitchen. I think it smelled me.”

Jupe’s eyes widened with alarm. “What did it look like?”

“Uh . . .” I pulled my damp shirt away from my stomach, thinking of the three heads.

“Did you see it, Dad?”

Lon blinked several times. “I don’t know what I saw. It’s not human. Not Earthbound. And I don’t want to see it again.”