Page 37 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

"Southern waters."

I am already moving, and he notices immediately. "I knew you'd do that."

I grab my jacket. "Do what?"

"Run toward the disaster."

My mother folds her arms. "He's inherited that from his father."

I point. "We can discuss my terrible decisions later." Neither of them looks convinced. Unfortunately, neither tries to stop me, the urgency hanging in the room leaving little space for arguments.

By the time Row and I reach the docks, chaos has already arrived. People crowd the harbor, voices overlap, questions fly in every direction. Several fishermen are preparing vessels, others stand frozen on the shoreline, watching, waiting, praying.

Gideon spots me immediately. "Blackwater."

I head straight for him. "What happened?"

His expression darkens. "The Silver Crest sent a distress flare."

"Then?"

"Nothing."

The answer lands heavily. The weather looks calm, too calm. Experience has taught me not to trust that.

"How many boats are going?"

"As many as I can safely send." he answers, heaving heavily.

I nod. "Good."

Gideon studies me briefly, then hands me a map. "Take the eastern route."

That catches my attention. East? Again? The knot in my stomach tightens. I fold the map. "We'll find them."

Gideon doesn't answer because promises don't mean much out there. Results do.

A few moments later, our vessel pulls away from the harbor, the coastline gradually shrinking behind us as the ocean stretches endlessly ahead beneath a gray sky. Row joins me near the bow. "You think we'll find them?"

"I think we're going to find something."

The answer isn't reassuring, and judging by his expression, Row notices. Unfortunately, I don't have a better one.

The farther we travel, the stronger the feeling becomes. Wrong. The ocean feels wrong, the sensation crawling beneath my skin as the wolf stirs uneasily. Not fear. Recognition.

I grip the railing, and the memory returns immediately—the capsized boat, the impossible currents, the storm forming around me, the darkness beneath the water. My jaw tightens. We're getting close. I know it before I see anything.

The ocean begins changing, subtly at first, then all at once. Row notices it too. "What the hell?"

The waves no longer move naturally, currents colliding, water crashing into itself, the sea twisting in conflicting directions. A wave surges east, another slams north, a third cuts across both, the result creating violent collisions across the surface. Several crew members exchange uneasy looks, one muttering a prayer. I don't blame him. The sight is disturbing, because it shouldn't exist. The ocean is fighting itself.

Row grips the railing harder. "This looks familiar."

"It is," I answer, the words leaving my mouth quietly.

The wolf pushes forward inside me, alert, restless, every instinct screaming the same warning. Danger.

I scan the horizon, searching, waiting. Then someone shouts.