“Why have you woken me?” Zek asked, his voice ragged from disuse.
“Because you have work to do,” the Sorceress said sternly, her blue eyes burning bright, her long red hair loose about her face.
He struggled to sit up. His dark hair was tied back in a seaman’s pigtail, his skin tanned from all weathers. This was a man who’d spent his life outside in the wind and the sun, and who relished pitting himself against the elements.
He knew who she was: the Sorceress, the ruler of the between-worlds otherwise known as purgatory. It was her practice to choose certain mortals, those she considered had not reached their full potential during their original lifetime and, when the time was right, return them to the living world for a second chance.
“I am sending you back to the mortal world,” she told him now. “You must put right the wrong. All those lives lost. You must save them and at the same time help me to capture the monster responsible.”
He looked up at her, his one good eye glittering in the candlelight, the other dead and empty. She waited for him to argue with her, tell her he couldn’t possibly do any such thing. But he surprised her.
“If I am to help you, I want something in return.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “I am giving you a second chance at life and you ask for more?”
“There is someone I have to find. My wife, Isabel. I long for her. I ache for her. Will you help me find her again?”
The Sorceress smiled. “Ah, you speak of love. Or is it lust?”
He smiled back, but she knew his heart was racing.
“She has been reborn into another time, into another body. Her life with you is over. There are some rules that even I cannot break, Zek.”
“I don’t care about the rules. I want my wife back again. I will only help you if you grant my wish.”
“I could send you into the pit for eternity.” Her voice was a growl. “Obey me, mortal.”
Most men would have backed down, but not this one. “Not without her.”
The Sorceress smiled; his reckless courage amused her. She had chosen well because he would need both those attributes to complete her task. “I will find your wife and you will help me capture the monster.”
Zek knew he’d won. He bowed his head, relieved to take his gaze from the Sorceress’ terrible beauty. When he looked again there was no one there. The flapping of wings made him look up. There was a large bird soaring into the shadows. A moment later the chapel was empty and he was alone.
Moving slowly, he swung his legs over the edge of the tomb and dropped to his feet on the marble floor. Memory was returning to him, slow and creaky, like a wheel that hasn’t been used for a very long time. There had been a storm. No, two storms. One had taken his ship, and the second many, many lives. He died trying to save them, knowing it was his fault, the voice of the monster ringing in his ears.
The bird was back. He could hear the flapping of its wings getting louder, and just for a moment he saw the Sorceress’ face where the bird’s should have been - her blue eyes like daggers. There was a rush and groan of air, and then he was whirling and tumbling.
Back into the mortal world.
Back into his own past.
Izzy was dreaming again. The wind was blowing hard against her face, and she clung to the man beside her, afraid she’d fall. Below the lighthouse the waves were crashing against the cliffs, the spume flung high, wetting her skin and stinging her eyes.
“There!” he shouted, his arm pointing.
The lights of the passenger steamer were barely visible through the storm. Izzy imagined the rocks, sharp and murderous, waiting beneath the roiling sea. All those lives in danger, and it was only the lighthouse keeping them safe. Zek’s lighthouse. She was so proud of him.
He turned to her as if she’d spoken aloud, and she pressed into his arms, feeling the wet warmth of his skin against hers, the sigh of his breath in her ear. “Isabel . . .”
Behind him something unimaginable was rising from the waves. Like a mountain it slid from the sea, water sloughing off slick, blue flesh, tangled white hair strewn with kelp, a face full of fury, broad shoulders, a barrel torso marked with strange designs and, instead of legs, a tail like a fish. A mythical monster from the deep. She had no words for it, but Zek did.
“Neptune.”
The light from the lighthouse went out.
And that was when Izzy woke, lying dazed in her bed, reminding herself that the dream would pass. It always did.
A finger brushed her cheek, warm, gentle, the fingertip callused. Definitely male. “Isabel . . .”