Cuckoo in the Coven

Cullen strode back to her side and took her in his arms. He cupped her face in his hands. “Don’t be sad, lass. If you can’t come with me, I will return to your side five years hence. Do not leave the area, I will find you.”

“She can’t leave the area, not now,” Fox shouted over to them, lifting his voice above the wailing wind, as if he couldn’t resist needling them and shattering the tender moment. “She’s got far too much invested here, haven’t you, my dear?”

What the hell did he mean, and why was he speaking as if he knew her intimately? She could leave whenever she wanted. The distaste she felt for this Viscount Fox person grew by the moment.

Cullen, however, ignored Fox’s remark. “The ship will take me from you, but I will return.” He put his hand to his heart.

Think, think, she demanded herself. She never let herself get fazed by anyone and it wasn’t going to happen now. What would Grandmother Hanna say? She clamped her eyes shut, searching deep.

Look into their eyes and see the lies.

That’s what her grandmother always said to her when she was a child. If you don’t trust people, look into their eyes and you will see the truth. You will know whether they lied to you or not. Her eyes flashed open and she steeled herself to look deep into Fox’s silvery eyes.

Instantly, she knew he was lying. But as she stared, she saw his true form morph, saw him as he’d been in her time, outside The Witch’s Brew Cafe. Her heart thudded against the wall of her chest.

She looked beyond him, at the ship, and the waves crashing against the Bedruthen Rocks beyond. Her vision blurred. She pushed back damp strands of hair lashing across her face.

Black clouds crowded in, a terrifying peal of thunder rolling overhead. The sky seemed to crack open with a flash of lightning. Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, my God. What the hell?

Within the lightning strike, it was as if the ship had changed, or a curtain had been pulled back, revealing its true nature. No longer a sturdy wooden vessel of the historic age, it was a dark black galleon with blood red sails. The seamen who stood with a rope ladder hanging over the side morphed too. They appeared to have demonic faces, their eyes black, their skin charred.

Sunny’s body vibrated, shock and fear rushing through her.

Thunder cracked loudly overhead, and lightning struck all around.

Cullen was at her side, shielding her.

“Don’t go. It’s a trick. It’s not what you see.”

Fox shook his head at her, smirking. The winds buffeted his body, but he was not deterred by the weather conditions. He stood strong and fierce and threatening, as if somehow in league with the dangerous seas crashing all around them.

Icy cold water was rising around her legs, and when she looked around she saw the tide was right into the very edge of the cave.

“Cullen must leave,” Fox bellowed at them, yanking the rope to hold the floating rowboat against craggy shoreline.

“What trickery is this, Nathaniel?” Cullen asked, as if torn between an old friend and a new one. He turned his attention back to her. “What is it you see, lass?”

Sunny looked at him imploringly. Who would he believe, his childhood friend, or a “wench” he’d met the night before? “Don’t go there, Cullen. It’s not what you see. It’s a trick.”

Fox crowded in on them, heaving the rowboat after him. It lifted and tossed in the waves and he was struggling to control it. “Why would you mistrust me? I am your oldest friend.”

Cullen’s white cotton shirt was clinging to his body, drenched with rain. He flicked back his wet hair, clearing his vision, addressing Fox directly. “Why would she lie to me, tell me that, and what have you to gain by my passage?”

The doubt was there and Sunny leapt on it. “Exactly, explain yourself.”

Fox loomed over Sunny, smirking at her.

Apparently he was enjoying sparring with her. Sunny pushed back her shoulders, smirking right back at him. If he wanted to fight, she’d show him what she was made of.

“Merely helping out an old friend.”

Sunny shook her head, clutching Cullen’s hand. “I don’t understand why he’s doing it, Cullen, but I know you shouldn’t board the ship.”

“My, my,” Fox said, “you are a plucky little soul. This is turning out to be rather interesting.”

Cullen turned to her. “Describe what you see!”

“Step behind me,” she shouted over the roar of the sea. “Look at what I see.” She felt as if she was clutching at straws, but she acted on instinct, beckoning him closer.