“I need ink,” he muttered, addressing the witch. He pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. Amaya manifested a bottle of black ink and planted it down on the table next to him. He dipped his quill into the ink and began to scrawl:
“Before 3 PM this afternoon, the king and queen of The Shade, along with the ex-hunter Aiden Claremont, will be waiting on the cluster of rocks southwest of your ships and outside The Shade’s boundary. Be there to capture them, or ignore this message at your own risk.
Signed,
An interested third party.”
“Before 3 PM,” Amaya murmured, reading the note over Jeramiah’s shoulder. “That doesn’t give us much time at all… And the hunters… Jeramiah, is this really the best way to do this?”
Jeramiah’s face hardened. “It was the bullet of a hunter that killed my father.”
I didn’t know how he knew about the circumstances of his father’s death—I could only assume that he had learned what had happened from the Nasiris. Somehow, he had formed the conclusion that Lucas Novak had been the victim. I didn’t understand why the jinn would lead him to believe this—or perhaps they hadn’t, and Jeramiah’s belief was borne from the pain of losing his father—but whatever had happened, my cousin was convinced that my family were wrongdoers who needed to be destroyed. I wondered if he even knew that Lucas had been shot while attempting to murder my mother.
Amaya now looked past the point of arguing, resigned to the fact that there was no budging her vampire companion from his bloodthirsty course.
“All right… well, what would you like me to do next?” she asked.
Jeramiah folded up his note and placed the parchment in the witch’s hand. “First of all, you will deliver this to the hunters,” he said. “Take it directly to the captain of any one of those ships and make sure that he sees it. Then you’ll need to return to me as fast as you can.”
Amaya frowned. “But if I leave the boundary, how will I reenter the island?”
“Good point,” Jeramiah replied, raising a hand to his chin and stroking it. “I will swim to the boundary—in a straight line from the Port. Just make sure you’re visible, and I’ll spot you. I’ll reach out and hopefully I’ll be able to pull you back through.”
“Then you will travel with me now, I assume,” the witch said. “I’ll transport us by magic and drop you off in the water near the boundary.”
“No,” Jeramiah said. “I’ll head there myself… This could be my last run through the island. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure that you’re not waiting long—if at all—for me.”
She nodded, sliding the parchment beneath her sleeve. “And after that?”
Jeramiah paused before his voice lowered. “After that, we just need to ensure that the promised guests show up on time for their party.”
Chapter 17: Ben
Amaya recast the invisibility spell and vanished with the note, leaving Jeramiah and me standing alone in the room.
My eyes turned on the vampire. Anger welled within me. He moved to the duo of candles sitting on the ledge by the shuttered window and snuffed them both out, plunging the room into darkness. Then he left the living area and let himself out of the front door. I hurried after him, my eyes boring into the back of his head as he stepped outside and paused briefly, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air. He gazed around the dark, empty field—at least, it was empty for him.
The moment he stepped out, the crowd of ghosts’ attention shot toward him. They began to approach, keeping a distance of about five feet as they circled around him, and gazed at him expectantly. I guessed that they were all waiting for the “man with the pipe” to start playing again. As shrill as that tune sounded up close, they seemed to genuinely get pleasure from it. Perhaps I would too if I’d been a ghost as long as them.
Jeramiah ventured forward, away from the farmhouse and out onto the soil. He picked up speed and began sprinting toward the woods.
“Bastard,” I cursed, running in his wake.
“Hey! What are you doing?” one of the ghosts called to me—the air stewardess, Lucinda—as I caught up with Jeramiah, but I ignored her.
My arms outstretched, I motioned to grip Jeramiah by the neck. My fingers passed through him like air. I balled up my hands into fists and tried to punch him, push him, make him stumble, do anything to slow him in his deadly race, but I was as useless as vapor.
“You’re just the snake your father was,” I spat, wishing to God that he could hear me.
I leveled with him as he continued running at breakneck speed. He’d now entered the woods and was whipping through the redwood trees.
I didn’t know exactly how he was planning to drag my parents and grandfather out of the island. He would make the witch do it somehow. I guessed they’d catch my family when there were no other witches around. Amaya would swoop in and… I need to warn them! But how?
My entire being swelled with aggravation. What is the point of this damned existence? I would be just as useful to my family if I really were dead. The thought that I had the knowledge to prevent my parents and grandfather from becoming victims of Jeramiah’s deadly plan, while being utterly unable to warn them about it, was leading me toward the brink of insanity.
3 PM. Even that time was uncertain. Jeramiah had said that my family would be taken to the rocks before 3 PM. What time is it now? I didn’t even know. How long would Amaya take in delivering the message to the hunters? When would she be back, and when exactly was she going to attempt to steal away my parents and grandfather?