Page 61 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

“Ithink we best be goin’, mates,” Boots said carefully, trying to keep the tone of his voice to a quiet purr. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of dead apparitions dashing towards them in a rage of fury. He reached out, gripping Kitten’s arm and pulling her close to him. “Not doin’ ghosts today.”

Kitten’s face turned ashen, frozen with fear. “Captain?” she called out, wrapping her arms around her love and squeezing him tightly, “We can’t exactly fight somethin’ that’s already dead.”

Not everyone had seized up their swords when they left the tent. They were largely unprotected and defenseless. Not that a sword or pistol would do so much as fly through the dead entities, who no longer looked human. They looked more like monsters, hungry to devour whatever stood in front of them.

The captain grabbed at his sword, being grateful he had remembered to place it in his sheath. He was rarely unarmed, but even so, his blood ran thick in his veins. He thought only sirens could hurt him; well, other than the dragon who gave him his scar. But he was wrong to believe nothing else could touch him. Dead wrong.

Seeing a spirit for the first time felt as if someone was pouring icy water down his spine. The lump in Lincoln’s throat refused to slide down to give him a chance to breathe.

The ghostly figures crept closer to the crew.

Shit! What now?The captain thought and turned to Mazie, who was breathing heavily, petrified.

“Please, don’t do this,” Mazie begged at the triplets, but it felt like her voice died in her throat.

The morphed creature tilted its head and glared at the dark-haired pirate. Their eyes were vacant, almost hollow.

Mazie’s hands shook as she rubbed the back of her elbows. Her entire body shuddered with each step the creature took closer to her.

“What happened to you?” She asked the unliving beings. Her voice cracked. “Tell me, what has happened to you that has taken your life? Why are you here? Why—” she rambled on, trying to reason with them.

“The King of Zemira and his men slaughtered us one by one,” they echoed. “The magic we bound to this land has kept us here, in this state, repeating the same horrific day over and over again. Trapping us; unable to escape.” The creature shrilled so loudly, Mazie had to clasp her palms over her ears. “But we feel so alive at the same time. It is beautiful on the other side, Mazie. You’ll see.”

Mazie dropped her hands, gripping to the pistol she never left behind. Tears pooled into her eyes as she pointed the barrel at the mob. For a moment, her eyes caught a glimpse of her mother moving through the crowd.

“Mother?” she called, “I’m so sorry.” She wiped a tear falling down her face with the sleeve of her coat. Her voice quivered, “I’m so sorry this is happenin’.” Sadness clouded her beautiful features; she immediately regretted leaving them.

“Don’t be, dear. I’m not sorry. Look at us. If you die here, on our land, you’re reborn.” Kala’s expression grew weary. “Though I did tell you to leave. You should have been on your ship by now.” Her mother held out her hand. “Might as well join us. I will help you reach the other side.”

Her mother stepped forward, then halted. She appeared frozen where she stood, like a predator, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Lincoln closed his hand around Nola’s wrist, pulling her closer to him, then wrapped his other hand around her waist, rubbing the chill that reached under her shirt. She exhaled, watching the vapor of her breath dance in the wind. The air itself was not crisp, but the entities had somehow turned the atmosphere around the crew to an icy fog. There was a small moment of silence before Kala stepped forward again and hissed—the entire town charged right at them.

“Run!” Mazie shouted rapidly, not bothering to look back as she turned on her heel, waving her hands at her comrades. “Everyone, run!”

Lincoln gripped firmly to Nola’s shirt, tugging at her. The crew sprinted towards the gates, leaving their belongings behind.

“Run faster,” Ardley shouted, turning his neck to give a hasty glance behind them, but he heard a yelp to his right. As he turned, he saw that Hill had hurdled over a fallen tree. He tripped, his head colliding with the thick roots spread across the trail.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Hill shouted, jumping back to his feet, pressing his hand over a bloodied gash on one of his temples.

The buccaneers stormed through the forest, with Mazie leading the way. Nola avoided looking back as she hurried next to Lincoln, but they were close.

The Sybil Curse’s crew stopped abruptly at a tall, stony barrier—higher than the walls at Westin’s gates. Lincoln glanced quickly to see how close the mob was. But the ghosts were gone.

Nola sucked in a breath, looking back to the fence. “What is this?”

Mazie slid her hand down her face. “I—I don’t know. This wasn’t here when I left ten years ago. We took the wrong path,” she explained with panic in her tone. “Shit! Shit!”

The pirates turned quickly as Mazie gasped when she felt heavy breathing on the back of her neck. A cold chill ran down her spine.

“Mazie,” a soft voice whispered. The pirate’s dark eyes widened as she saw who stood behind her.

She immediately covered her mouth with both her hands.

“Bay? Bay is that really you?” Mazie gave her a shaky smile.

She thought to herself, is she really here?

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