It was dark by the time Daniel spotted the black stone mansion that rested on the island’s peninsula, butted up against the edge of a thick jungle threatening to overtake it. He cut the small steamboat’s engines and listened, taking in the sounds of insects at night, the occasional splash of fish in the brackish water, the ripple across the surface as a creature left the shore.
There was no light in the house at all, and he could see it only because the clouds had cleared enough for the moon to shine down. He stood behind the wheel with Lewis, Bonadea, and Quince nearby. They all peered through the darkness; nobody broke the silence.
“If Malette is at home, she’s not currently receiving,” Daniel murmured.
“How would you like to proceed?” Bonadea asked.
“We are at a disadvantage in the dark,” Lewis observed, “but perhaps that could work to our benefit. We might investigate the house without being seen.”
“She’s a witch,” Quince added quietly. “She will know her home has been breached.”
Daniel craned his head to see the crumbling turrets and widow’s walk that looked as though they might topple in a stiff wind. “We would be obliged to use Tesla torches, which would be visible from out here.”
“Our only option then is to wait until daylight.” Lewis frowned. “If Isla is inside, would you prefer to mount a rescue with her unconscious or awake?
“We don’t know what condition she’s in. It may be better to take her out asleep.” Daniel’s jaw clenched, and he tried but failed to shove an image of a wounded Isla out of his head.
“We can do that and still have the benefit of light.” Lewis checked his pocket watch. “By five o’clock, we might have enough sunrise to work with, and Isla will still be unconscious. That would be four hours from now.”
Daniel nodded, hating to wait but seeing the wisdom in it.
Bonadea pointed to the far side of the house. “Take us around that way so we see the other side.”
Daniel idled the motor and slowly trawled alongside the bank until they had a view of the opposite side of the house. Lewis whistled under his breath, and Daniel cut the engine again and followed his friend’s gaze.
The house looked as though a giant claw had scooped away a third of the ceiling and a portion of the walls. Jagged pieces stabbed upward while other parts of it had crumbled away like an ancient ruin.
“You’re certain she lives here?” Quince whispered. “That does not look habitable.”
Daniel shrugged. “According to the map, it’s the only building on the family property, aside from”—he paused, squinting into the dark—“two outbuildings that way and a cabin five miles north, right through the heart of that mess.” He pointed into the jungle.
“Perhaps she lives there and not here,” Bonadea said, eying the pile of stones dubiously. “I mean, she is human, we assume?”
A shadow flickered across the manor’s exterior, and Daniel looked up at the moon. He thought he saw something—
a cloud? He blinked, wondering if he was so tired he was hallucinating.
Lewis had also looked up and then back at the house with a frown. A sound from high above—the beating of wings—broke the stillness but softly. “Bats?” Lewis mused.
Daniel exhaled. “That would be an incredibly large bat.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel, knowing he needed to make a decision. “We’ll return in four hours, find a good point of entrance, and see who’s inside.”
“We could try to find this cabin in the meantime,” Bonadea suggested. “Show me the map again.” He took it from Daniel and perused it, angling it in the moonlight. “Looks as though it’s close to the water along here, and if this is a tributary going to the interior, we might see it without too much bushwhacking through the jungle.”
Daniel looked where he pointed, and nodded. “Certainly worth a try.” With a backward glance at the mansion, he turned the steamboat and followed the shoreline as dictated by the map. In theory, it ought to have taken twenty minutes to find the cabin, but the water branched into the peninsula in multiple locations, and nearly two hours passed before they came upon a moderate clearing that looked to be a possible candidate for human habitation.
“Through there.” Daniel pointed. He guided the boat in carefully, having navigated the terrain enough through the years to know the dangers of a swamp.
Lewis nodded. “I’ll go first. We don’t all need to go tromping ashore.” He gestured to where Quince slumped, asleep. “Wish he would have let us leave him at the inn.”
Bonadea chuckled. “He is not about to be excluded from anything, especially where it concerns the doctor. I’ll come along, Lewis.”
Lewis retrieved a rifle from a trunk at their feet and, with a shrug and a salute, left the boat with Bonadea on his heels, slogging through ankle-deep swamp water.
Daniel readied his own pistol and trained a Tesla torch downward to alert them of anything that might either bite or swallow a person. He breathed a sigh of relief when they made it to relatively solid ground.
He leaned against the captain’s seat and listened to the quiet, feeling solitude for the first time since he and Lewis had begun their mad dash to find Isla. He was exhausted. His eyes were gritty and his head ached with a slow, insistent throb. Beneath his physical discomfort ran a wave of fear that he wouldn’t find Isla, or by the time he did, it would be too late.
Never one for dedicated prayer, he still sent out a plea to a God who may or may not be listening. Please, please, please . . .
“If I have learned one thing about our doctor, it is that she is resourceful.” Quince smiled wearily at Daniel. “Try not to imagine the worst.”
Daniel’s mouth turned up in a smile. “I thought you were sleeping soundly, Mr. Quince.”
“I was! But then there was no noise from the motor and no rumble of voices. I believe the stillness is to blame.”
“We shall finish here, and then I’m returning you immediately to the inn.”
“Are you suggesting I am too old for adventure?”
“I would never dare suggest such a thing. I, however, am exhausted. The swamp is not the most comfortable of places to spend a night.”
Quince yawned. “I wouldn’t say that. There’s a certain charm about it, no?”
Daniel cocked a brow. “If one finds charm in extreme humidity, multitudinous insects, poisonous reptiles . . .”
“It smells good.”
“I suppose right here in this spot it does. There are pockets where it is less . . . so.”
Daniel heard a rustle in the foliage and straightened, training the light on the shoreline. Lewis and Bonadea appeared, and Daniel gave each a hand up into the boat. The two shifters exchanged a glance, and Daniel’s heart clenched.
“What is it?” He almost preferred ignorance.
“Don’t know if it’s a good sign or not, but Isla was definitely here. We found the cabin, and Nigel’s satchel.” Lewis slapped at something on his neck.
“It looks like he locked her in but she broke out a window,” Bonadea said. “So we can either be grateful she escaped him or concerned because she’s not there anymore.”
Daniel’s heart pounded. “She’s in the jungle.” He stared at the spot where the two men had emerged. “She is out there right now, unconscious, in this horrible place.” A cold tremor shot through his limbs. When he considered the sheer size of the landmass between their location and the mansion, he felt nauseous. And that was presuming she was headed to the mansion, which she undoubtedly would be if she’d uncovered even the slightest bit of information from Crowe. If she had taken to slogging in the opposite direction for Port Lucy . . . His heart sank. She had twice as far to travel before seeing civilization.
Daniel released a shaky sigh. “Her clothing and shoes were still in her room at the inn. Surely she wouldn’t tromp through the jungle barefoot and in her nightclothes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Would she?”
Bonadea cleared his throat. “It behooves us to remember she is a strong animal empath. While she undoubtedly faces danger, I would wager she will encounter little hostility from the fauna here.”
“I hope you’re right,” Daniel mumbled.
“Perhaps there is another cabin between here and the mansion, and she has been able to find shelter,” Quince said.
“Would she return here for any reason?” Lewis posed the question to the group.
Daniel lifted a shoulder. “I suppose anything is possible.”
Bonadea nodded. “Someone should remain here in case she does return. I’m happy to volunteer.”
“I’ll stay with you.” Quince nodded decisively.
“There is a cot in the cabin where you can rest for a few hours,” Bonadea told him.
Daniel looked at Lewis, who shrugged. “Two hours remain of our original plan. What should we do?”
Daniel set his jaw. “We go to the mansion. I’m tired of waiting.”