Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel) (17 page)

Great, his partner would hold this over his head for at least the next week. He’d never hear the end of how important it was to know your history. Snorting, he stopped to grab a coffee before heading out.

Rawlins had the pathetic human up against the wall, one hand on his throat, the man’s feet kicking a frenetic beat against the boards. “I’ll not ask again, where were they headed? You know each and every ship in and out of this port, destination included, so speak and I’ll consider sparing your life.”

He’d already taken a good twenty years from this man, his once red hair, now a dull, lusterless orange. Feeling the added energy coursing through his veins, Rawlins could smell everything around him. He’d had it on good authority from those he paid to watch the comings and goings all over Edinburgh that a man and woman fitting Colin’s and Emily’s description had boarded Robert’s ship. That bloody bastard—after all these years, still causing problems for him. No worries, he’d killed him once, this time he’d make sure the pirate stayed dead. Ripping out his heart would ensure he was nothing but dust. His lip quirked up in a semblance of a smile, turning his attentions back to the human who was now turning a ghastly shade of purple. Letting him drop to the floor, Rawlins placed his booted foot on the man’s neck.

“All right, they boarded the
Fortune II
… it’s making multiple stops.” The man gasped like a fish out of water, flopping about on the floor, desperately trying to force air into his screaming lungs. Two stops stood out to Rawlins—Inverness and Invergordon. Ah Colin, not so smart after all…headed to the ruins of Castle Gloom or to Ravensmore? Can’t be Gloom since I’ve been making use of the dungeons there. Must be Ravensmore. Rawlins had been in the castle enough times to be able to dematerialize there without worry about ending up embedded in a wall. Easy enough to find out. He’d take the fight to his enemies…put an end to those two once and for all. The woman would be icing on the cake; he’d take her to his bed before draining her. Finishing the man off, he threw the corpse to the corner of the room, dematerializing to rally his troops.

Dinner was noisy, chaotic, and delicious. Emily couldn’t remember when she’d felt this carefree, after all Colin had told her, she needed to take her mind off thinking about curses for one night. Captain Robert’s crew dined in the adjoining room, and she could hear the ribald jokes, stories becoming larger than life, growing exponentially with the amount of rum they consumed.

“Your crew—are they like you?” She thought they were human, but unless she noticed no one else could see them, she couldn’t tell if they were ghosts or not.

Chuckling, Robert answered, “No, they’re all human. My crew died long ago, God rest their souls. None stayed behind. They all went on to find their peace.”

Wrinkling her nose in concentration, she went on, “So how did you find these men?”

Robert looked at Colin, “Your lass is curious as a cat isn’t she?”

“Aye, she keeps things interestin.” Colin winked at her.

“I hired boys from the families who had perished and so on. The men you see are descended from my first crew. ‘Twas the least I could do to help the families who were left behind. All I hire know I’m ‘different,’ though every now and again I forget to make myself visible and scare the hell out of one of my men.” Robert smirked at her and Colin broke out in laughter.

The crew ate in shifts. Robert had modern engines but preferred the old ways, said the rhythm and pace felt more natural to him than the humming of engines. He liked the sounds of the ocean, waves hitting the bow, gulls calling, the rigging creaking with the motion of the ship, the occasional whale sighting, and the dance of everyone knowing their job, working together as a team.

The Captain’s dining room was beautiful, decorated in rich shades of burgundy, navy, green, and gold. Sumptuous silk curtains framed the windows, silk pillows adorned each dining chair, the chairs and table made out of rich mahogany with gorgeous carved legs. There was even a china cabinet in the room. The table was set with heavy linens; silver polished to a mirror finish, beautiful fine crystal and of course the china. She adored china, collected it, used it all the time, even to serve pizza on; after all, why save it only for special occasions? Pizza Tuesday could be just as special as Thanksgiving dinner. She never understood why people saved beautiful things, only to use them rarely, if ever. Not as if anyone would look back and say oh, I shouldn’t have used that china so much. Surrounding yourself with beautiful things made the world a nicer place which it sorely needed.

The meal was delicious, the wine like velvet on the tongue and the conversation fascinating. Colin kept her glass full, making sure she had whatever she wanted. Seated between the two men, she felt safe and secure. Stealing glances at Colin, he took her breath away—so strong, lethal, and sexy—it should be against the law to have that kind of sex appeal. Discreetly fanning her face, she dragged her thoughts from the warrior beside her to the table; she had to know, “Robert, how does the china cabinet and table stay in place when there’s a storm?”

“Good question lass, back in the day, not only were storms an issue but battles as well, so the heavy items are bolted to the walls and floor. Used to be six or seven sets of china packed away in the ship’s hold so if we encountered a bad storm or ran into battle with the bloody English, we’d have more. What’s a meal without fine china, crystal, and sterling silver?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

Biting her bottom lip, she thought about it. It made sense, something they should think about in earthquake-prone places like California. Though her grandmother would have a conniption putting screws through her precious antiques to bolt them to the floors and walls; being a fine southern lady, she’d never live on the wild West Coast anyway.

“The china, is it Haviland? It looks like a pattern my friend Kat has. Hers is almost two hundred years old. It’s in excellent condition but yours looks new.”

“Good eye lass, I traded black pearls from the South Seas for it from Mr. Haviland himself, ‘tis been in storage for a time.” Leaning back in his chair, Robert settled in to tell the story while Colin poured another glass of wine and rolled his eyes.

“He had recently gone into business, set up a fine factory in Limoges, France, and wanted to give his pretty, young wife a lovely bauble. I was sailing from France back to Scotland with a hold full of goods when he approached me. He was a brave man to enter the pubs lining the docks in Marseilles. They were a rough place then. We came to an accord and made the trade, both happy with the outcome.”

The table was cleared, dessert brought in. Rich, gooey, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache on top, Emily was in hog heaven. She groaned in ecstasy tasting the rich confection.

Reaching over, Colin wiped a tiny drop of chocolate from the corner of Emily’s lip—she stilled, watching him as he deliberately took his finger and sucked the chocolate off. She swore she could feel it down to her core, insides molten, like the center of the cake.

Laughter brought her attention back to Robert.

“Me thinks you two should get a room—right—you have a room, why don’t ye go there and get naked?”

Colin glared, “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

Before things could get out of hand, Emily jumped in. “Tell me how you met Robert.”

“Aye, Colin, tell the lass, ‘tis a fine story. I saved his head from the chopping block numerous times.”

Raking a murderous glare over Robert, Colin told her, “He’s so full of shite, I saved his arse from the English too many times to count. Will you shut the hell up and let me tell the damn tale.”

As the dessert dishes were cleared, wine replaced by cognac, Emily was tipsy. Sated from dinner and drink, warm and sleepy from the gentle rocking of the ship.

“You see Emily, it was verra long ago, my usual Captain had gone down with his ship in a fierce storm, I’d heard of the infamous ‘Black Bart’ and decided to introduce myself.”

Robert broke in, “Aye, we met in a broth…er, in a…well, in a bawdy house. I was finishin’ with Lola when I heard a scuffle outside.”

“Seriously, you are such a woman; I thought I was the one telling the story—let me tell it already. If you tell it, we’ll still be sitting here when the dawn comes. It gets longer every time he tells it.” Colin cut his eyes to Robert. “Don’t give me the poor, wounded me look. I’ve plans for the rest of the evening, and they sure as hell don’t involve you, mate.” Emily giggled, heat flared in her stomach at Colin’s words. Looking at him, her face hot, “Please continue. I want to hear the story.”

“Getting back to the tale then…there was a scuffle, the English had taken a couple of my lads, as they shouted for me, I came out the door as did Robert. We managed to free the men and escape from the blasted English. Couldn’t have them knowing I was the smuggler. After a few too many drinks I hired Robert to transport my merchandise from that day forward. Course, you had to mix up Captains so the English would be kept guessing, but we ran into each other over the years until we both ended up in the one-star accommodations of Edinburgh Castle, bound for the gallows.”

Opening her mouth to ask Colin a question, she was cut off when he grabbed her hand, excusing them from the table. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. Thought we’d have a walk after dinner, enjoy the sea air.”

Colin practically dragged her from the dining room to the deck. The open air carried a salty tang she could taste. The smell reminded her of him.

“You didn’t want me to start asking questions, did you?” She playfully hit his uninjured arm, allowing him to escort her around the deck.

One of the crew members was playing a violin, a haunting melody, as if in homage to the full moon overhead. Stopping to lean against the railing, he asked her why she was in Scotland.

“When we were trapped in the tunnel, you told me you and your friend Kat came to Scotland to ‘get away,’ what did you mean? Did something happen that caused you flee the country?” Colin asked in a light tone.

Staring up at the night sky filled with stars, the moon hanging heavy, almost touching the water, she thought about how to answer him. Releasing a pent-up sigh, she began, “Well, I was in a relationship with a man named Charlie. What I didn’t realize until it was too late was he liked to keep secrets. One of his secrets was another woman; his cheating is what caused the accident. I ended up in the hospital.”

“Accident? Hospital? What happened to you lass?” He growled, jealousy roaring to life…if that bastard had hurt her, he’d tear him apart.

Not looking at him, she continued, “We were driving, he was sexting with her, lost control, and hit a tree. The car rolled on its side into the stream…” her voice trailed off. Giving her a minute, he wrapped his arms around her.

“’Tis okay lass, tell me the rest.”

“They told me I died. I was lost for eight minutes. They’d given up…as they were leaving the room to tell my brother and Kat, I came to screaming.” She was rigid in his arms as if worried what he might think.

“It must have been a terrifying experience.” Trying to ease her suffering, the strain of the memory making her tense, he stroked her hair, tucking the errant strands behind her ear.

“Did you know the stars are made out of tears?”

Turning in his arms, inches separating them, she looked through him, into his very soul with those knowing gray eyes.

“Tell me.”

“’Tis said each and every star we see in the night sky, was formed from a tear, a tear made from broken hearts and broken promises. An ancient god and goddess, deeply in love, were ripped from each other, destined to be apart throughout eternity…the tears from Luna’s broken heart created the stars in the night sky. She became the moon; Solus the sun, passing each other for a brief moment in time each morning and evening. This is why sunrise and sunset are so beautiful, the tragic lovers, yearning to be together again, knowing it can never be, fill the sky with the colors of their love for each other.

“What a heartbreakingly beautiful story. I’ve never heard it before, so much better than thinking the moon, sun, and stars are distant planets…though sadder.”

Quiet, lost in their thoughts, listening as the violin wove a spell of enchantment on the night air; neither spoke.

“What, no more questions? I haven’t heard you this quiet since we met in the Vaults.”

“It’s so much to absorb, the curse, Shadow Walkers, Day Walkers, immortality; not to mention, I’m not sure what I have to do to help you. It’s exhausting thinking about it.”

“Maybe you’re to help me find that bastard Captain Rawlins Huntington. Then stay out of the way while I kill him. Hamish betrayed me…not only with my fiancée but to the captain, which also cost me my crew—men who depended on me to protect and provide for them and their families. He knew I kept the whisky in the Vaults, watched to learn when and how I moved it so he could turn me in, allowing the good captain to find me. My own brother conspired with the English while Rawlins left me chained to a wall so I couldn’t defend myself against Hamish. He let him kill me.” Colin told her, very matter-of-factly; what did it matter now, ancient fucking history, that bridge was burnt and long gone.