Seizure

Seizure by Kathy Reichs




About the Book

The second novel in the Virals series by Kathy Reichs, the number one international bestselling author of the Temperance Brennan novels and inspiration for the hit Fox TV series, Bones.

Since their dangerous transformation, the Virals have been lying low. But now Loggerhead Island is at risk, and with it, their parents’ jobs. The pack suddenly faces separation. The only thing that can stop it is money, and lots of it.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Tory Brennan, great-niece of famous forensic anthropologist Tempe Brennan, thinks she’s devised the perfect plan: find the lost treasure of famous she-pirate Anne Bonney. Legend has it that Bonney hid her fortune somewhere near Charleston, but in nearly 300 years no one has found it.

With the help of newfound powers, and a nudge from modern technology, the Virals are on the right track. But they’re not the only ones looking, and whoever is following will stop at nothing to recover the treasure first. Adding to the danger, the Virals soon learn that Anne Bonney didn’t leave her booty unprotected. And there are dead bodies to prove it.

The path ahead is fraught with danger. And this time, the pack’s special abilities may not be enough to save them…





About the Author

Kathy Reichs is forensic anthropologist for the Offices of the Chief Medical Examiner, State of North Carolina, and for the Laboratoire de Sciences Judiciaires et de Médecine Légale for the province of Quebec. She divides her time between Charlotte and Montreal and is a frequent expert witness in criminal trials.




For Hannah, Madelynn, Brendan, Brittney,

and Brianna, my Texas critics.





CANNONS THUMPED IN the distance.

Boom! Boom!

Final, frustrated salvos that faded with the dying light.

Wind screamed and lightning slashed a bruise-purple sky. Thunder clapped. Rain drummed the heaving forecastle deck.

Nervous shouts ricocheted as the crew struggled to trim the mainsail. Instructions. Curses. Prayers.

Revenge crested an enormous wave, then listed hard to port as a massive gust shoved her sideways. Timbers groaned. Voices bellowed in panic.

The pirate ship vibrated with an unnatural hum, moments from capsizing.

Seconds passed. Eons.

Then, mercifully, Revenge dropped into a deep trough. Shielded from the fierce gale, she slowly righted herself.

The deck leveled.

The shouts morphed into dark laughter, the giddy excitement of those pulled back from the brink. Backs were slapped. Grins spread like plague.

To all but one.

A tiny figure huddled alone on the quarterdeck, clutching the stern rail. Her body was drenched. Wind danced her hair, ripped at her shirt, bandana, and velvet waistcoat.

The woman had no complaints. The deadly storm was speeding Revenge to safety.

Her gaze scanned the trailing horizon. Anxious. Searching for enemy sails. Hoping not to spot them.

Then Revenge mounted another gargantuan wave.

There they were. A trio of black cutouts against the heavy, dark clouds.

Two were sloops similar to Revenge. Nothing they couldn’t handle. But the third vessel was trouble.

English.

Frigate.

Bristling with thirty cannons.

Bullocks.

Calico Jack’s men were good fighters, true pirates all. But they were no match for such a warship.

Revenge ran for her life.

Moments later the woman saw sailors scurrying the decks of the pursuing ships, frantically reefing sails.

Slowly the trio dropped back, swung about, and reversed course.

As it turned, the massive frigate fired one last broadside. A futile gesture. The range was far too great.

The woman finally smiled.

The approaching storm had soured the chase for the Crown’s small fleet.

Her relief was short-lived, replaced by other worries.

Escape had a price.

Revenge’s bowsprit was pointed into the heart of the rising tempest.

Anne Bonny watched a colossal breaker crash over the bow. Jack’s crew had dodged the hangman’s noose, but the sea would have the final say.

They’d had little choice but to chance the storm. Not after blundering into the British patrol. Frankly, Bonny was amazed Revenge had eluded the colonial authorities yet again.

Third time this year. The net is tightening.

Weeks earlier, the Charles Town militia had cornered Revenge while she was anchored off the Bahamian coast. Jack’s men had awakened hungover and surly. They’d fought as best they could, but Revenge had nearly been forced against the rocks. Escape had been a very close thing.

And now they tempted fate in violent waters.

Bonny slumped to the deck, arm looping the rail for safety.

So tired. Tired of running.

For a moment, Bonny’s eyes drifted shut. Unbidden came the image of Laughing Pete, his body crushed by a British cannonball.

Her lids snapped open.

A storm had saved Revenge this time. Climactic luck. How long could such good fortune hold?

Of late, the gallows loomed large in Bonny’s mind.

So few of us left.

She saw faces, recalled names.

Stede Bonnet had been captured on the Cape Fear River, hanged at White Point in Charles Town. Rich Whorley had mistaken militia boats for merchant ships and paid with his life. Charles Vane had been hanged at Gallows Point, not ten leagues from where she now slumped.