Chapter 8
RAFE
The brotherhood takes the news exactly as expected.
Declan's hand slams the table hard enough to rattle the evidence bags. "Necromancy and sea witch power? In the same person? That's not possible."
"It wasn't." Moira's voice stays steady despite five predators crowding the space. "Until someone made it possible. And now they’re trying to use my dead sister’s drowned body as part of their plan.”
Jax circles the ritual markers like a wolf scenting prey. "Show me the pattern again."
I spread the map across the table. Red circles mark each of the sites. Blue markers indicate the potential targets Moira identified earlier. The lighthouse location sits among them, but something's been bothering me since she marked it.
"The sequence doesn't fit." My finger traces the arc from victim to victim. "These markers follow the tidal currents, moving with the natural flow of power around the island. But the lighthouse breaks that pattern. It's too far north."
Moira leans closer, tracking the lines I'm drawing. "You're right. The power flow suggests the next location should be further south." Her finger lands on a different blue marker. "Here. The cove on the eastern shore. It's sheltered, isolated, and the convergence point aligns with tonight's tide."
Grayson rumbles from his position by the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. "How do we know the victim? Can't stop a murder if we don't know who's being targeted."
"We can't know." The admission tastes like failure. "But the summoner has to be present. They have to be there at the moment of death to bind the drowning, to corrupt the magic. Which means we watch the location. Anyone who shows up gets stopped before they can complete the ritual."
"And if you're wrong about the location?" The dragon-shifter's voice carries centuries of skepticism.
"Then we need eyes on all of them." I meet his ancient gaze without flinching. "That's why you're here. Each of you takes a location. Watch. Wait. Report anything suspicious. Moira and I will handle the eastern cove since that's the most likely target."
Declan's attention moves between us, reading something in the space that separates me from the sea witch. "You two partnering up now? That's new."
"Someone used her sister's corpse as a weapon last night." The memory of Moira's face when Elspeth appeared still burns. "She has the magic to read these ritual markers. I have the muscle to stop whoever shows up. Makes sense to work together."
Declan's eyes narrow. "My pack has an agreement with her family. Protection in exchange for their magic when we need it."
"And I'm not stepping on that." I meet his gaze without challenge. "But she needs someone who can move fast and kill faster for this specific job. Someone expendable if this goes wrong. Your pack has the whole island to worry about. I don't."
The lie tastes bitter, but Declan doesn't need to know my real reasons. Doesn't need to know that something about the sea witch pulls at me in ways I'm not ready to examine.
"The brotherhood will cover the other locations." Declan's tone makes it clear this discussion isn't over. "But if this summoner shows up at your cove, you put them down hard. No questions. No mercy."
"That's the plan."
They leave in ones and twos, melting into the shadows with predator grace. Within minutes, the warehouse empties except for Moira and me.
"We have six hours until the tide turns.
" She's already gathering the ingredients she collected earlier.
Salt-blessed water. Protective wards. Black salt in a leather pouch.
"I'll need time to prepare the defenses.
If the summoner shows up with the same power Elspeth had last night, we need to be ready. "
"The cove is a forty-minute drive from here." Logistics always ground me when tension runs high. "We should leave in three hours. That gives us time to scout the location before sunset, find good positions, set up whatever magical protections you need."
"And if someone else shows up first? The victim, I mean. What do we do?"
"We warn them off if possible. Get them away from the convergence point before the summoner arrives." The answer should be simple, but complexity wraps around every scenario. "If that fails, we defend them. Whatever it takes."
She nods, but doubt shadows her expression. The same doubt from this morning when she asked if her magic would be strong enough.
"You should rest." The words surprise me as much as her. “The stakeout could last hours. You'll need to be sharp."
"I can't rest. Every time I close my eyes I see Elspeth. Hear her voice. Feel the water pulling her down while I reached for power that wouldn't come." Her hands shake around the leather pouch. "What if it happens again? What if I freeze when it matters?"
Three steps close the distance between us. My hands cover hers, steadying the tremor. "You didn't freeze last night. You fought. Treated my wound after I nearly got myself killed. Explained the magic even when it hurt to talk about it."
"That was different. That was survival instinct."
"This is the same thing. Survival. Protection. Taking back what was stolen from you." My thumbs trace circles on her knuckles. "And you're not doing it alone. I'll be right there with you."
The air between us thickens. Her pulse jumps under my touch, visible in the hollow of her throat. This close, I can count the freckles scattered across her nose.
Dangerous territory. Focus belongs on the hunt.
"Three hours." She steps back, breaking contact. "I'll be ready."
The eastern cove spreads below us like a wound in the coastline. Black rocks jut from dark water. Waves crash in steady rhythm that's pounded this shore since before humans walked the island. The convergence point sits at the waterline where stone meets sea meets sky.
Perfect location for a murder.
We've been here for two hours, hidden among the rocks above the beach. The sun set forty minutes ago, painting the water blood-red before fading to purple and finally this thick darkness. No moon yet. Just stars scattered across the sky and the phosphorescence of disturbed water marking each wave.
Moira sits beside me, close enough that I feel her presence but not touching.
She's been quiet since we arrived, focused on the protective wards she wove into the rocks around us.
Salt-blessed water in patterns that shimmer faintly with residual magic.
Black salt scattered at cardinal points.
Moonstone powder mixed with dried rowan berries creating barriers against necromantic corruption.
The preparation took an hour. Watching her work revealed layers I hadn't expected. Confidence in her magic that contradicts her earlier doubt. Precision in her ward-crafting that speaks to years of study even if she claims she ran and hid from this power.
"Tell me about Elspeth." The question breaks the silence between waves. "What was she like? Before."
She goes still beside me. For several long seconds, I think she won't answer. Then her voice comes, barely louder than the water below.
"Wild. Fearless. Everything I wasn't." The words carry old pain polished smooth by years of repetition.
"She had the sea witch gift even stronger than mine.
Gran said she'd be the most powerful Flynn in generations.
Could call storms when she was seven. Make the tide turn just by wanting it.
The magic loved her in ways it never loved me. "
"You think the wrong sister survived."
"I know the wrong sister survived. Elspeth should be the one sitting here. She would have stopped this ritual before it started. Would have sensed the corruption the moment someone began binding drowned spirits." Her hands clench in her lap. "Instead, I'm here. The weaker one. The one who failed."
I know this feeling. Carried it across an ocean when I fled Spain with my brother's blood on my hands.
"I had a younger brother." The confession surprises me, but something about the darkness makes truth easier. "Diego. Five years younger. I loved him despite everything."
She turns toward me, attention moving from the water below.
"Seven years ago, I came home early and found him in bed with my fiancée." The memory plays out in sharp detail. Blood on marble floors. My brother's eyes going dark. "He attacked me when I confronted him. Silver knife, full fury, everything he had. It wasn't enough."
"And?"
"I killed him." Flat. Final. The truth I've carried alone since arriving on this island. "Self-defense. He had a silver knife, I had my shadow-walker speed. It was over before I could think. Before I could choose a different way to end it."
"What happened after?"
"My father exiled me. Chose to blame me for Diego's death rather than face what his favorite son really was. So I left Spain with my brother's blood on my hands and nothing else."
"So we're both haunted by siblings we failed to save." Her voice holds no judgment. Just understanding born from shared pain.
"Diego made his choice. Came at me knowing what I was. What I'm capable of." The distinction matters even if it doesn't ease the guilt. "But Elspeth didn't choose to drown. Didn't ask to be bound by some summoner's twisted ritual. That's different."
"Is it? You loved your brother despite everything. I loved my sister more than anything. We both failed to protect them when it mattered." She moves closer, shoulder pressing against mine. "And now we're both carrying that weight while hunting whoever's using my sister's death as a weapon."
The contact sends awareness through me. Warm presence in the cold night air. Her scent surrounding me despite the salt spray and stone.
"After Diego died, I swore I'd never let emotion compromise me again. Never let anyone close enough to become a vulnerability." The admission comes easier in darkness. "Walls go up. Distance gets maintained. Protection through isolation."
"How's that working for you?"