Daniel sat beside Dr. Cooper and waited for her to regain her composure after the shock of meeting Samson. She certainly wasn’t the first person to react in such surprise, and he doubted she’d be the last.
“I knew there was something about him.” She watched the ’ton, her brow wrinkled.
Her pronouncement surprised him. “You sensed he wasn’t human?”
She shook her head. “I sensed something different.” She laughed. “I was trying to determine what manner of shifter he was.”
He’d seen little levity from her, and her laugh caused his heart to skip a beat. She really was a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who was in desperate straits, by her own admission, and he remained uncertain how it would affect him and his “cargo.”
“Why are you here?” he asked quietly.
She sobered, turning her attention to the stunning view of clouds and endless sky outside the windows. “I must find someone in Port Lucy, and time is of the essence.”
“Who is this someone? Perhaps I know him.” He’d been instrumental in establishing the port city, after all. Even named it after his sister.
She shook her head. “She is not native to the Caribbean, and in fact only left England a few months ago. I am not certain how long she plans to remain away, or if she will ever return.”
“Have you an address?”
She shook her head and turned her green eyes to his. “My reasons are my own, and I ask that you not press me. Just know that this trip is extraordinarily important to me.”
“Is it a matter of life or death?”
She exhaled quietly. “I hope not.”
“You hope not?”
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “My friend, Hazel Hughes, is a brilliant woman who has been helping me learn some . . . things, but even with all the resources at her disposal, she has been unable to ascertain the exact nature of the . . . situation’s potential outcome.”
He knit his brow. “Hazel Hughes. Why do I know that name?”
“She is acquainted with your sister, Lucy. Perhaps she has mentioned her?”
“You know Lucy?”
She shook her head. “I personally do not.”
Hazel . . . Ah, yes. Miss Hughes was a medium who had been hired to help with some issues at Blackwell Manor though the results of her efforts had led to a violent attack on both her and Lucy. “I’m afraid what little I know of Miss Hughes does not speak well of her expertise.”
She flushed. “Her expertise as a medium, no. A practitioner of Light Magick, yes. And as a mind that can store facts, retain them like a steel trap, unparalleled. Her mother seems to think . . .” The doctor waved her hand. “It matters not. Suffice it to say that Hazel is the best person I know to locate obscure facts and resources. And her best information has directed me here. I’m afraid nobody knows the solution to my problem except the person I must find in Port Lucy.”
“How long do you anticipate it will take? What are your plans for returning home?”
She lifted a shoulder and looked out the window. “That is a bridge I will cross when I reach it.”
“You could find yourself stuck in Port Lucy for weeks—a month, two months.”
She snapped her attention back to him. “It doesn’t matter! I’ll figure out how to get home after I’ve taken care of everything else.”
He studied her. She was flushed, agitated, her foot wiggled as though she had a difficult time remaining stationary. The woman was a doctor, a well-known professional in London, and she had handily secured passage on a flight he would never have ordinarily allowed. Given her accomplishments and her clear talents, the circumstances prompting her mad flight to Port Lucy must be severe.
It wasn’t his concern, and he couldn’t fathom why he cared one way or the other about her intentions. He had troubles enough of his own to manage. Thinking of that brought to mind something she’d said when she had tried to convince him she could be an asset.
“You’re an empath, and you deal with predatory shifters both in animal and human form, yes?”
She blinked at the change of subject. “Yes. I offer therapy for clients who need help adjusting to relationships or family life. Many people don’t begin shifting until adulthood. I also hunt criminal shifters when necessary, help bring them to justice.” She wrinkled her nose. “Which is part of my contention with Nigel Crowe. I refuse to turn over to the Committee people whose crimes are minor. Most local constabulary agree with me and don’t force people onto the registry unless the crimes are severe. Harmful.”
“It occurs to me that you may be able to help, should the need arise.”
“How so?”
“You’ll note, I’m sure, that Full Moon Phase is a scant three weeks out. A little less.”
She nodded.
“I never undertake flights with certain passengers aboard that span that three-day window. This trip marches uncomfortably close to that deadline.”
“I did wonder.”
“Our three friends who travel with us now were supposed to have departed last week on an entirely different airship. One with different accommodations in case of emergency. Last week, a component in that ship’s engine room malfunctioned and caused systemic failure. We’re still working to fix it, but there was no time. Quince, Bonadea, and Lewis were being pressured from the PSRC’s security control. It wouldn’t be long before false charges were drummed up and filed, harassment of the families increased—it wasn’t safe.”
He rubbed the knot at the base of his neck. “I scraped this trip together last minute, but the extra accommodations—large, secure, caged rooms—are unavailable.”
“So if we experience the slightest delay and one or all of the men shift, there is no containment.”
“Exactly.”
She paled and swallowed. “Yes, I see.” She exhaled. “And shifting hours for predators are from midnight to six.”
“Indeed.” He frowned, confused. “Are you afraid? I agree the circumstances are not optimal, but in the worst case, we could at least get out of the sky, spend a few hours on the water . . .”
“No, I’m not afraid.” She laughed a little, almost to herself. “That is the problem at home, too. Those shifting hours—when I most need to be available.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
She smiled at him. “Another bridge we shall cross when we arrive there.”
“Dr. Cooper, are you suggesting you will be unable to help if we have an emergency?”
She sighed. “No, I shall be fine. Everything is fine.”
“Everything does not sound ‘fine.’” His frustration mounted. “Enough of the cryptic comments and nonsense. If there is an issue that would have an adverse effect on me or the souls in my care, I must know what it is.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. “I fall asleep at midnight and do not awaken for six hours. No exceptions.”
He stared. “No exceptions? It seems to me you chose the wrong profession if you refuse to work those critical hours for three scant days per month!”
“No, it’s not that I refuse!” She made an exasperated sound and stood, her hand on her forehead. She walked a few steps and faced him, leaning against the windows at her back. “I have been cursed. With a spell. I lose consciousness at midnight, and I cannot awaken until six. I sleep as though dead. That is my problem. That is what I must fix. And if I cannot be awake, I cannot do my job. It’s my company, I founded it, I train students, I tutor them in the field—there are aspects of the business that I cannot entrust to anyone else, and I must be out among the people in order to know exactly how to approach each individual situation, to be helpful to my clients, to hunt murderous shifters that others are unable to track. And what of the rest of my life? Suppose I should ever actually have a family?”
Her voice broke, and she looked down, her cheeks flushed. She’d not wanted to admit any of it to him, that was certain. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts.
“The person in Port Lucy is the one who cast the spell?”
She nodded.
“What was the reason?”
“I’d rather not say,” she mumbled.
“And what does the cure involve?”
“That is why I cannot make plans for my return home. I don’t know what the cure will entail. I don’t know how long it will take, what I shall have to do, where it needs to be done. I don’t know if she can say a few words of magick and throw some rat bones at me and I will be cured, or if I shall have to walk the entirety of the Great Wall of China backwards while fasting.” She spread her hands wide. “I don’t know! And not knowing is making me mad as a hatter.”
“How much time do you have?”
She shrugged listlessly. “If I do not obtain and enact the cure within the next eight weeks, it becomes permanent.”
Her pronouncement hung heavy in the air between them, and he understood her need to blackmail her way onto his ship. His lips quirked, and she narrowed her eyes.
“My predicament amuses you, Captain Pickett?”
“I understand now the reason for your subterfuge.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose as we are compatriots of a sort, you needn’t call me ‘Captain Pickett.’”
She nodded, surprised. “Very well.”
“Pickett is fine.”
Her mouth hung slack and then she closed it. “Well then, you should call me ‘Cooper.’” She lifted the corner of her mouth into a half-smile. “Does this mean you’ll return my weapons?”