and slung it as hard as he could. The blade thwacked against the cabinet next to Seumus, embedding two inches into the wood. “My life is worse than death. While I’m out cleansing the waters of pirates, Braithwaite is breeding more. If the people of Mystique dare to speak out against their new governor, they’re murdered. How can I stand back and let it happen? These are my people.”
“Not anymore, Capt’n,” Murphy said quietly. “Not anymore.”
Barefoot, Rafe paced the length of the cabin and back. “I can’t stand by and do nothing.”
“You’re doing everything you can.” Murphy tugged at the dagger on the wall beside Seumus. The weapon didn’t loosen from its mooring.
“It’s not enough. I can’t rest until Braithwaite is replaced by someone of morals and integrity.”
“That rules me out.” Seumus grabbed the jug and tipped it again, swallowing a huge gulp of ale. He swiped his arm over his mouth. “Ach! I can no’ see ye blastin’ away at an old woman, Obeah or no. Ye don’t have it in ye to kill a female.”
“I’ll do what I have to do in order to save the island from the devil himself.”
“How do you propose to get to the witch?” Murphy asked. “She’s nigh on impossible to find by land. The only way in to her is by sea, if you can find the entrance to Siren’s Cove.”
“I’ll find it.” He strode across the floor and yanked the dagger from the wall. “I’m thinking that if I kill the Obeah woman, her curse will be broken.”
Murphy shook his head, a sorrowful slant to his brows. “And if your curse worsens, then what?”
“What’s a little more hardship when I don’t have much of a life as I am?”
“What’s so bad about your life?” Murphy waved an arm at the interior of the captain’s cabin. “You have everything you need. Food, clothing, a ship, a profession, and friends.” He patted his chest, a smile spreading across his face.
Rafe snorted. “I’m no better than the man we hanged today. I steal from other pirates to make a living, and I spend half my time in the ocean, like a bloody fish.”
“But yer not a fish. Yer a magnificent monster.” Seumus cringed at his own words. “Well now, I’d give me balls to be as fearsome.”
“You can keep your balls. It’s no life for a man who once was the governor of this island.”
“Even if you break the curse and remain human, what makes you think you’ll regain your governorship?” Murphy asked. “As you said, you’ve been nothing but a pirate since you were run off the island by Braithwaite and the superstitious natives.”
Rafe had thought of that, but he still didn’t have an answer. All he knew was that he was powerless as long as he was only human half the time. He turned to Murphy and placed a hand on his shoulder. “If I don’t return, the ship’s yours. Take care of my crew.”
Murphy nodded. “Aye, Captain.”
Melodie stared at the scattered bones, trying, to no avail, to see what the old woman saw. For the past week, she’d lurked around the Obeah woman’s living quarters on the slim chance of receiving a spell that would make her whole. “How soon until you finish the spell?”
“Takes much time. Much t’ought to make a spell dat strong.” She gathered the bones of cats and other small animals into her hands and shook them gently, the sound like reeds rattling in the wind. “Why you want always to be part of the sea?”
“It’s the only place I don’t feel like such an oddity.” Melodie shrugged. “Humans wouldn’t understand my life and they fear what they don’t understand.”
The old woman nodded, her bone earrings bobbing with the movement. “You can no find love. Love is what keeps us young.”
“It’s more than that.” Melodie pushed to her feet and paced in front of the thatched hut where the witch lived. She’d been inside only once before. Movement was difficult among the myriad of items she had in stock. The Obeah had everything from rags, feathers, balls of clay and glass beads, to cat skulls and earthen jars with mysterious contents of which Melodie could only guess. The place reeked of dried vegetation and decaying animal parts and it gave Melodie the chills. For all she knew, the woman could have human body parts in there.
Melodie shuddered at the possibility. Still, she endured the long wait for a spell to cure what Melodie considered her affliction. After twenty long years of dealing with her birthright, she was ready to trade her feet for fins permanently. “In the sea, I’m free. No one judges me based on my family lineage or the color of my skin.” She glanced down at the light mocha shade that had been her bane in the human world. Neither Carib, nor English, she was a freak and didn’t fit in either society.
“What makes you tink the merfolk won’t have de same prejudices?”
“I spent time with them when my father was still alive. They didn’t make fun of me or shun me because I was different.”
“And how long did you spend wit’ dem?”
“A few days at a time. When Mother would let me go with Father.”
The old woman nodded, her gray brows dipping low. “Are you sure you not be tradin’ one difficulty for another?”
“I don’t know.” Melodie flung out her arms. “I just don’t want to live two lives. I want to be normal in whatever world I live in.”
A young version of Busara rounded the corner of the hut with an earthenware jar perched on her hip, water sloshing over the top. “If you leave de island, who will I talk wit’?”
Melodie took the jar from Kanoni, Busara’s beautiful daughter. “I’ll always come back to visit, as all the merfolk do. We can’t stay away for long. You know that.”
Kanoni’s gaze swept the cove where the water shimmered like sparkling jewels. “No, you will not stay away long.” She dragged her gaze back to Melodie, her eyebrows furrowing. “I will miss you, girl.”
“You know how I feel. I want more from life. As it is, I’m on the edge of two worlds. I just want to belong in one.”
“She be needin’ a man, Mamma.” Kanoni laughed. “Can’t you give her a love spell to catch one?”
“I don’t need a man. I need to be either all mermaid or all human and my preference is to remain in the sea.” She felt less constrained by custom and man-made obstacles when she floated among the coral and sea creatures.
The old woman ignored their chatter. Squatting on her haunches, Busara cast the bones in the dirt in front of her shack and sat back, her dark forehead wrinkled in a frown. “I will make de spell.”
Melodie turned to the woman and dropped to her knees in the sandy soil. “You will? When? How soon?” She clasped the old woman’s gnarled hands in her own, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh, thank you.”
“First you must do something for me.” Her old fingers clasped Melodie’s in a surprisingly strong grip.
“Anything,
