Demyan jerked her upright. The boat tipped again and a wave washed over the side, soaking her trousers further. Bea tripped over the long legs of her pants and fell into the Monster. Her hands flattened to Demyan’s bony chest. His cold breath fanned across her face, creeping over her skin like a spider.
“Now, my dear, you’ll behave, won’t you?”
She gave a stiff jerk of her head but couldn’t prevent the shivers that raced over her skin. She was terrified, and it was obvious.
“Come,” Demyan demanded with a nod of his head.
Sergio stood, allowing the two Indian men to take the oars. The massive man latched on to her right arm. Bea gasped and tried to pull back, but Demyan slid a long arm around her waist, clutching her so tight, she could barely breathe.
“You promised you’d behave and I despise people who break their promises.”
Bea met Adelaide’s gaze. The woman gave her a curt nod. Bea understood her silent gesture. Stand still. Allow Demyan to do whatever he’d do. But how could Bea trust this Adelaide? Because she had a feeling the French woman wasn’t here of her own accord and would just as likely want to see Demyan dead as Bea would.
With a soft swoosh, Demyan pulled a dagger from the sheath on his thigh.
Bea’s heart slammed against her chest, her own harsh breathing drowning out any other noise. Her mind and body insisted she rebel, but she knew it was pointless. She jerked her attention forward, focusing between Demyan and Sergio, in the direction where the beach lay.
A sudden warmth swept through her body. Bea’s entire soul stilled as she tried to grasp the meaning of the sense of peace she felt. There it was again … a whisper … a promise of hope. Colin. Her heart skipped a beat before racing. Colin was near. She could feel him … sense him. She didn’t know how, or why, but she knew he was near.
Sergio’s blunt fingernails dug into her wrist as he straightened her arm. But she didn’t care. She didn’t look as Demyan brought the dagger down. She didn’t even flinch when the blade sliced across her arm, slitting open her skin. She didn’t cry out as wet, warm blood trailed down her forearm. Instead, she remained focused on that fog where the shore hid. Focused on Colin. She didn’t care if she was imagining his presence. She didn’t care if she’d gone insane.
Demyan shoved her arm over the boat, propelling Bea forward. Her attention broken, she latched on to the side of the vessel with her free arm, attempting to steady her balance. Waves crashed against the small boat, sending salty water onto her skin and burning the open wound.
“There, yes, now.” A drop of blood hovered on the edge of her arm, before falling to the water. Two more drops followed in rapid succession. They splattered against the surface, diluting to pink before a wave tumbled forward, pulling the drops below into the vast sea. Demyan released his hold. Bea fell backward, landing on her bottom. She inched back, huddling into the bow and clutching her wounded arm to her chest.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered furiously, turning to face Adelaide.
“You’ll see,” the woman replied, her gaze pinned to Demyan.
Fog rolled over the edge of the boat, blanketing Bea in a misty veil so she could barely see Adelaide, who sat only inches from her. Shivering, Bea hunched lower, cradling her arm closer to her body, barely aware of the sting the cut produced. There, surrounded by the gray cloud, every harsh breath was magnified. Suspended in time, no one moved, no one said a word.
“I don’t understand,” Bea finally got the nerve to whisper. “What’s …”
Ahead, the fog parted, drifting away like the train of a ghostly ball gown. A sudden golden ray pierced the gloom and fell upon their tiny vessel. Bea blinked rapidly, lifting her hand to shield her face from the light.
Demyan’s smile grew, his excitement almost tangible. “There.” He pointed ahead.
Bea turned, peering over the edge of the boat. An island stretched across the sea, an emerald against a sapphire ocean, the colors so brilliant and pure that Bea had to blink as she looked directly at the scene.
“Hurry.” Demyan settled on his seat. Men rushed to their posts, Sergio at the helm, the two Indian men settling next to the oars as if they understood the direness of the situation. Bea could do no more than remain huddled on the floor, watching as the island came closer … closer.
“What is it?” Bea turned toward Adelaide. “What is that place?” She knew Demyan couldn’t hear her over the grunt of the men rowing—not that it mattered. The bastard had set his sights on the land and didn’t seem to notice anything else.
Still, Adelaide shifted closer as if afraid they’d be overhead. “The place where you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
Bea snorted, more than annoyed with the woman’s strange answers and the throbbing of her injured arm. “The statue? I’m not looking for the statue.”
Adelaide pulled the blue scarf from her hair, and taking Bea’s arm, she wrapped the material around the wound. “You should be. You have no idea what that statue is capable of, what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands.”
“I’ve heard,” Bea muttered and even as she wanted to dismiss the woman’s words, a shiver of unease raised the fine hairs on her neck. “And I don’t believe it.”
“Do you believe this?” Adelaide nodded toward the island, so close now that Bea could make out the brilliant yellow and red birds perched in the trees that lined the shallow beach.
“Believe what?”
“Do you believe in this island?”
“It’s an island, what’s there to believe?” Bea hissed, growing more annoyed with each passing moment.
Her arm hurt, her head hurt, and she was desperately attempting to reclaim that calming sensation she’d felt just before Demyan had gutted her like a fish. She pressed her fingers to her temples, unsure anymore if that sensation of Colin being close had just been in her imagination.
“You know it’s not just an island. Deep down you know.”
They hit a bank, the thud sending them all careening forward. Bea’s palms slapped down hard on the bottom of the boat as she attempted to keep herself upright.
Having finally had enough, she managed to glare at Adelaide, who was also trying to steady herself. “They can’t possibly think … they don’t really believe this island appeared because of my blood?”
The woman shrugged as she stood. “Odder things have happened in this tale, surely.”
Without waiting for help from the men, Adelaide jumped from the boat, her booted feet splashing in the shallow water. And Bea admitted, if only to herself, that she admired the woman’s ease, the way she seemed to be in constant control of her surroundings. These men didn’t worry her, nor the situation. What did she know, and how did she know it?
“Go,” Demyan demanded, shoving Bea toward the boat’s edge.
Bea bit her tongue, resisting the urge to curse him to hell. In a less than graceful manner, she stumbled out, splashing into the water. Here, the land was sunny, the gray clouds and fog gone. Slowly she turned. No other land was visible from where she stood. Surely, she should be able to see the mainland. They hadn’t traveled that far.
“Go,” Demyan demanded again.
Reluctantly, Bea moved toward the shore, her toes sinking into the silky fine sand. The place was a paradise, a heaven amid hell. Tiny yellow and blue fish darted around her ankles, stirred by the movement. In the thick green vegetation that ran along the perimeter of the shallow beach, brilliantly colored birds sung sweetly, their song mixing with the chirp of insects and coming together in a natural sound that vibrated in her very soul.
“What is this place?” she whispered, but the others were too far ahead, already upon the beach, to hear. Sergio and the two Indian men were cutting through the vines and vegetation with machetes. Obviously they hadn’t come to the island to have a picnic and collect shells.
The moment she left the water, Demyan latched on to her arm, his long fingers biting into her skin. “Come along. We’ve a st
atue to find.”
Bea glanced back at Adelaide, attempting to read her face, but for once the woman’s expression was blank. Yet her footsteps remained sure, as if she knew what would happen and was eager to get it over with.
“This is ridiculous.” Unable to keep silent no longer, Bea glared up at Demyan. “You’re all ridiculous if you think an island can magically appear because of my blood.”
He ignored her, following the path Sergio and the Indian men had cut. It couldn’t be possible. It couldn’t. Because if her blood could make islands magically appear, that meant the statue might be real. Which meant Demyan would be close … incredibly close to holding the sort of power no man should touch, especially a man like him.
“Really, when you see there is nothing here, how foolish will you feel?” No one responded. Even Demyan didn’t seem to care about her taunts. Frustrated, and feeling slightly panicked, Bea blew a long breath through pursed lips. “Come, we’re wasting time. You’re completely and utterly mad if you …”
Bea’s voice trailed off as the trees suddenly gave way. There, in the middle of a clearing, a stone temple loomed toward the sky.
“Nothing’s written in stone, my boy.”
Colin didn’t bother to look at his father, merely put his ire to use by rowing through the thick surf. The crashing tide was intent on keeping them at bay, but he wouldn’t relent. He would win this battle with the ocean, just as he would win back Bea.
You will kill Bea.
The words repeated over and over through his mind. What had Henry expected when he’d made that disgusting proclamation? Did he truly think Colin would stand aside and let Bea go? He wouldn’t kill Bea. He wouldn’t.
“What I’m saying is just because that insane lad seemed to think you’d, well … murder her, doesn’t mean you will.”
Colin’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together. “I don’t need your thoughts now of all times, old man. Just keep …” His voice trailed off as the fog shifted.
Something was out there. A shadow … a form interrupting the haziness. Colin stopped rowing, surging to his feet so the boat rocked, tipping precariously. “What the hell is that?”
“What?” his father asked, picking up the oars and steadying the boat as best as his wiry frame could.
Colin shrugged, unease making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “I don’t know. I thought I saw something. Trees.”
“Can’t be a tree, according to my calculations, we’d be between two of the Seven Islands, directly north of …”
The bottom of the boat scraped against something before settling to a stop. Colin wavered on his feet, attempting to regain his balance. “What the hell.”
Clutching the edge of the boat, he peered over the side. Through the rolling waves he could see sand. Beautiful, clear water and at the bottom, pristine sand, almost white in color.
“A sand bar. We’ve hit sand.” Just a bar … or something more? He looked up; there just barely visible through the fog was something green … something leafy … trees.
Colin glanced back at his father. “You were saying?”
The old man jumped over the side of the boat, landing with a splash that sent droplets into the air. “Doesn’t make sense. It can’t be land.” He was silent for one long moment, his eyes narrowed in contemplation, the only sound the roar of the waves. With a sigh, Colin followed, jumping into the water. The liquid immediately filled his boots, annoying his already dark mood.
With a snarl, he latched on to the bow and dragged the boat up to the beach. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see another boat there, yet hope flared all the same. Sunlight fell around them, glowing and warm, oddly keeping the fog away. “Then where the hell are we?”
He didn’t expect an answer. They were lost.
“Lost is right.” His father raced up to the shore. “A lost island.” His father’s eyes gleamed, his voice breathless with excitement. Instantly, Colin’s suspicion flared. The old man might have claimed he didn’t want to hunt the statue, but it was obvious he was still a treasure hunter at heart. He’d seen that same gleam in the old man’s eyes when he’d told him stories years ago of lost fortunes to be found.
Colin trudged toward the trees, scanning the shadows. “Lost island?”
Father started after him. “Every culture has them. Tales of islands that appear and disappear at a whim.”
Colin shook his head in disgust. He should have known better than to ask. “You’re speaking about nonsense.”
Father snorted. “You of all people should know how blurry the line between sense and nonsense is.”
He had to admit, the man had a point. Colin mulled over the idea. Was this place really some magical island? It looked normal enough to him. Perhaps his father’s senses were dull from the fog and age. They could, after all, actually be on one of the Seven Islands and that boat could merely be a fisherman’s. Although he hadn’t expected the Seven Islands to look like this, so rich in flora and fauna. So … perfect.
“I know what I’m talking about, boy, and my senses are not dull.”
Colin threw the man a glare. “Damn it, would you stop reading my mind.”
“There.” His father pointed forward. “A trail.”
Colin spun around. His heart jumped into his throat. His father was right. Newly cut leaves lay scattered about the area. Someone had just left them an obvious path. He didn’t know if it was a trap and he didn’t care. Patting his waist to make sure the pistol was still there, he started forward, the trees swallowing them into the dark, damp jungle.
“So you’re saying this island magically appeared?” His heart thundered in his chest. He was eager to see Bea, to touch her, to make sure she was well. “How?” He needed as much information as he could gather in their short time before they found Bea.
The man shrugged, his gaze shifting away in a telling action.
“What is it?” Colin demanded, pausing in the middle of the trail.
The vegetation threw shadows over his father’s face, making it difficult to read his expression. “Her blood, that’s how.”
Colin’s stomach clenched. He couldn’t seem to breathe. The trees above swirled in a dizzying whirl.
His father held up his hands, as if warding Colin off. “She’s alive, she’s well. But they used her blood in some way. How, I’m not sure. I’m only getting bits and pieces from their minds.”
Colin started forward, faster this time, resisting the urge to run. He must stay calm, must be quiet. “Do they know we’re coming?”
“No. Not that I’m aware of.”
“This is insane. It’s ridiculous to think that …”
Something didn’t fit, just up ahead, there through the trees; something didn’t fit in with the rest of the vegetation. Colin paused, inclining his head, peering through the branches. A different color, different shape. He bolted forward. His blood pounded through his veins, beating in time with each step he took. Faster, faster. The impatient need to see Bea overwhelmed his common sense.
The trail flared into an open area and Colin halted. There, in the middle of a clearing, stood a temple near the ocean. A beaten and battered place that showed its age. Vines clung to the gray stone, probably the only thing keeping some of the corners upright.
Swiftly, his gaze scanned the area. Were they walking into a trap?
“Inside,” Father panted, coming to rest beside him.
Colin didn’t wait for the old man but raced across the clearing and up the shallow steps to a dark, yawning opening that led into the temple. Inside, the air was musty and smelled of neglect. Darkness enveloped, suffocating. The only sound was his harsh breathing echoing through the building. Dirt and sticks lay upon the floor, footsteps interrupting the blanket of dust. Colin followed the tracks to another set of stairs, this one leading upward, toward a gaping hole in the roof.
“Slow down, my boy,” his father whispered as he entered the building.
Colin didn’t bother t
o turn. His mind was spinning, attempting to produce a sound plan to save Bea, but in the back of his thoughts remained Henry’s taunting words.
You will kill Bea.
Impatient to find her, Colin’s foot hit the first step.
“Stop,” a feminine voice called out.
The woman’s voice was soft, but it had the desired effect. Colin’s heart jumped into his throat. Slowly, he turned. Two Indian men and a white woman stood not feet from them.
“Lift your arms.” The woman demanded, her accent French. Colin ignored her and slowly lowered his arm toward the gun. Shit. This couldn’t be happening. He slid his father a glare. How the hell hadn’t the old man heard them?
“Some people can block their thoughts,” his father replied.
Obviously Colin wasn’t one of those people.
“I should have known,” his father went on, his hands held high. “It was too quiet.”
Colin’s fingers slid around the pistol. The woman was small, he could easily take her. The two Indians holding pistols, well, they wouldn’t be so easy to take down.
“Don’t,” the woman said, taking a step back so she was behind the two men. “If you pull the trigger, the sound will alert Demyan to your presence.”
Colin paused. How had she known what he was going to do? Did she read minds like his father? Hell, was she his sibling, too? His father’s eyes had narrowed. Apparently, he was wondering the same thing.
Colin didn’t release his hold on the weapon. He’d need a better reason than her weak excuse. “Why does that matter? Why do you care, sweetheart?”
Annoyance flickered behind her blue eyes. “Because if you die, then she dies and all is lost.”
So she had a point, a sound point. She wasn’t working with Demyan, but who was she working for? “What’s the plan?”
“We tie them up.” She glanced at the two Indian men, who obviously spoke not a word of English.
Colin released a wry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “And how do you propose we do that?”