The next morning, it was as though Drew’s body conspired against him. He’d gotten little sleep, and as he walked around his quarters looking for clothes for the day, he stubbed his toe. It didn’t hurt, but as the morning continued much the same way, the little annoyances began to pile up until he was almost ready to abandon being captain all together. At least for the day.

He should be receiving his delivery of blood today, though. Despite Grayson's untimely demise, the business would not shut down. Other people had money to make, and Grayson’s death would just mean their profits would be shared less ways.

Who would step in for Grayson’s duties, Drew did not know, but it did not matter to him as long as he got his blood.

As he walked outside, dawn was just painting the sky with streaks of light that pierced the clouds and caused a lot of the stars to simply vanish...for now. He had only slept for maybe a few hours, and he felt it: the slight throbbing of his head, the tiredness that touched his eyes, the longing to crawl back between his sheets and forget about the day.

However, he’d awoken suddenly, unable to go back to sleep, an anxious feeling stirring in his gut that he was determined to set at ease. To do that, he needed to check on his crew, on his ship. Affirm that everything was as it should be.

The sea caused the ship to groan, pushing and pulling it. Drew stood at portside, just to observe the torrent in the water. His lips were curled into a frown. It appeared as though a storm was coming.

Strange, for March. March was typically cool, but besides clouds, rain did not fall until April and parts of May. March was reserved for stillness, one of his favorite months to sail. He did not want to take it as any sort of sign. However, he was a sailor and pirate before he was anything else, and it was in his nature to be superstitious.

The Wraith’s deck was empty, though it was still early. If the majority of his crew had not returned from the island until the very last minute, they would have gone to sleep only an hour or so before now.

There stillness that filled the vessel should have been relaxing, but he could not shake this feeling that something was wrong. He regarded the silence as yet another ominous sign that something bad had happened.

His boots thumped on the wooden deck that practically sparkled due to how insistent he was about keeping it clean. The sails clanged softly, but no one stood in the crow's nest. He was not sure if the Shadow assigned, Marcus, had simply fallen asleep at his post, or if he had never been at his post at all.

Drew pressed his lips into a thin line. His natural instinct was to head over to the helm, even though he did not plan on leaving the island today. Being behind the helm, gripping the smooth rudders with his fingers, helped quiet his mind and allowed him to think on anything that might have been troubling him.

Instead, he turned left and made his way belowdeck. His footsteps were louder on the narrow staircase, and the third step from the bottom gave a telltale squeak, alerting anyone even remotely awake of his presence.

He would feel better once he spoke with Kelia. So long as he was safe, whatever was wrong on his ship—whatever was giving him this anxious feeling—would become more bearable once he saw her.

He didn’t know what he was planning to do, though. If he opened the door to her room, there was a possibility she, and the witches had they returned, would wake up. Kelia would be furious at him for checking up on her. Or unsettled if he didn’t give a reason for barging in. He couldn’t win with that woman!

Part of him didn’t care one way or the other. He just wanted to make sure she was safe, tucked in a scratchy blanket, drool spilling out of her mouth as she slept. If he could just see her messy pile of blonde hair, he would not care about who he woke.

There was movement in the large room where his crew slept. He reached the door, pursed his lips, and waited. He stepped toward the closed door and pressed his ear against it. He did not expect his crew to be up for another hour— not the ones who had this shift in the first place, anyway.

"...never returned," a voice said. Stephen, Drew deciphered.

"I saw Casey and Robert meself," a second one whispered back. "They were both here. They knew they had the early shift. T'was why they both came back from the Damned so early. You think Robert would have turned down the redhead at the tavern last night unless he had to be back?"

"Then where are they?" Stephen asked, a clear annoyance in his tone. "I can't clean the sails meself, mate. And Casey is so tall and limber. He climbs the mast like a damn monkey."

"They're probably already out on deck," the second voice replied, exhaustion lacing his voice.

“I didn’t see ’em up there, mate,” Stephen said. “And they aren’t here sleeping now, are they?”

Casey and Robert weren't aboard? A tightness appeared just at the start of Drew's chest, making it difficult for him to breathe properly. Missing sailors did not sit well with him, not when his crew knew Drew would not tolerate tardiness of any form.

"Come on, come on,” the second voice said, “we can’t do nuffin about them. We need to get to work before the capt'n finds out we've been lollygagging. I want my last night on the island. I don't want to rot away here."

Drew stood straight and stepped back from the door. When it opened moments later, he forced a smile and nodded a greeting.

"Stephen, Don," he said.

They jumped a little at Drew’s presence, which would be mildly amusing on any other day. They were Shadows, after all. Drew understood how easy it could be to learn to tune out the enhanced senses that came with being a Shadow, but he hadn’t exactly been quiet coming down.

"Good to see you up so early,” Drew continued. “Get to it then, aye?"

Stephen nodded, and Don muttered an “Aye-aye, Capt'n” before they both scurried up the stairs. When they were gone, Drew headed back to the room where the women slept.

He would not open the door to the room, he decided. Perhaps, if he pressed his ear against the door, he would be able to decipher her breathing. That would be enough. Then he could know she was okay, without making her angry at him for checking on her.

Just as he was about to do so, the door was yanked open and Drew nearly fell forward.

"She’s not here," Emma said in a droll, tired tone. "I assumed she was with you."

It took a moment for Drew to notice in Emma's shift and unkempt braid. He had never seen Emma like this. She was typically always put-together before she allowed herself to be seen by anyone. The fact that she had even answered the door without dressing, without running a brush through her hair…

Drew clenched his jaw and slammed his palm on the door, pushing it open. His eyes took in the empty cot, the folded blanket, the perfectly positioned pillow.

"No," he growled, turning away. He curled his fingers into tight fists, digging his nails into his skin to keep his anger somewhat controlled—an impossible feat. "No, she was not with me."

"Drew..." Emma said slowly. She made no move to leave the room, but she had not yet closed the door to give herself some privacy to change. "Drew, what do you plan on doing?"

He did not answer her. Instead, he stepped back over to where his crew was and all but pounded on the door. A grunting and groaning, and even the loud thud of someone falling from the hammock to the floor, carried through the thin walls.

"Get up, you sorry lot of jelly-boned, thumb-sucking crud buckets!" Drew yelled. "Get out on deck in no more than two minutes or the cat o'nine will come out, and I will ensure it's laced with silver. Do not test me."

He stomped up the stairs, his thoughts racing, his heart completely forgetting to beat at all. She was not here.

She was not here, and neither were two of his Shadows.

The first thing he did when he was back on deck was go to the back of the ship, where his boats were stored. He had five of them. There were only four in their proper place. One was missing.

Was she off to see if she could track down a Siren that might lead to her mother?

Drew pressed his lips together. He had a feeling, and that didn’t satisfy it. She would not abandon him. Not after what transpired between them last night. She had already done that once, and he trusted she wouldn’t do it again.

However, he was also aware that Kelia was adrift, like a piece of wood floating in the sea. Her life, her truths, everything she had been taught, had been stripped from her. She had no family, nothing she was familiar with, save for him.

Would she leave him to search for the familiar? For the mother she thought she lost when she was a mere child.

It was under two minutes before his entire crew emerged on deck. Some were barely able to stand, perhaps because they had fallen asleep only an hour or so again. They lined up, their shoulders rolled back, their chests puffed out, their noses up in the air. Their outfits were thrown together, with some foregoing tunics and shoes in order to make it on deck within Drew's practically impossible timeframe.

Drew clenched his teeth, slowly starting down the line. Each step he took, he counted. By the time he made it down the line, he counted eighteen men.

He was missing two.

He knew this, and yet the thought of them having Kelia caused unbridled anger to rip through his system.

Not one Shadow said anything.

Emma came on deck after that, much more put together than she had been. Her hair was braided nicely, and her dress was wrinkle-free and appropriate to be seen by other people. It was dark—a purple that sometimes looked black depending on her environment. Her body was stiff, her eyes narrowed. Judging by the clenched jaw, she was not happy.

"Where are Casey and Robert?" Drew demanded. The last thing he wanted to do was make his desperation obvious, but he could not control the way his words sounded as they left his mouth. There was no time for preamble, no time to worry about the consequences of revealing his weakness now. Not when each passing second risked Kelia’s life. "Tell me, damn you!"

"We don’t know," Stewart said. Drew did not know this one well, but he had a weathered look about him, as though he had seen a lot during his tenure as a Sea Shadow. "They were supposed to be on first shift this morning, but they aren't here."

Drew looked over at Emma.

"You mistake me, if you think I am capable of telling if he speaks the truth," Emma said.

Drew knew Emma could not create a truth serum. Only Sirens had the ability acquire honesty from someone. However, he could not help but wish she could observe the Shadow and use her accurate intuition to determine what was fact and what was fiction. His own instincts were completely frazzled. Any internal feeling of what was right drowned in the overarching emotions that currently ran rampant in his body.

"Have you tasted her blood?" Emma asked, stepping forward. "Perhaps you can track her?"

"I healed her hand with my blood," Drew said, his voice throaty. He dropped his head so he stared at the plank beneath his feet. There were specks of stray ocean water landed on his ship after a particularly strong wave that rocked his ship. He counted seventeen droplets before looking back up at Emma. "I have not had her blood. I did not want—"

He stopped himself. He thought back to that cut she received only hours before. If he had only given into temptation. If he only allowed himself to indulge, he would be able to track at least her general whereabouts. If he had more of her blood in his system, he might be able to pinpoint her exact location.

"Excuse me."

Drew's head snapped to the descending staircase. When he saw Danielle, standing at the top of the staircase with a hand on her jutted hip and her head tilted to the side, something inside of him bristled. However, he bit his tongue. She possessed abilities. Perhaps, she could help. Somehow.

"You don't need to track Kelia," she said. "If you locate your Shadows, wouldn't that, in turn, get Kelia's location? And they must be somewhere on water, what with the sun rising, surely?"

Drew let out a breath from his nose. She was right. Of course. How could he have been so stupid?

"Yes," he said slowly. "They would be forced to the water now."

"What if Emma and I searched the ships and the boats docked?" she asked. "This island can't be that large. How many docks are there?"

"Three," Emma cut in before Drew could answer. "The south side is the one we used. The north side is for humans who wish to dock somewhere without the threat of the supernatural. And the west docks are—"

"Closed, I thought," Drew said. "I heard one of the shifters set the west docks on fire two years prior."

"It's not used all that often, but it’s used," Emma said, locking eyes with Drew. "From time to time. At the very least, we can check."

Drew nodded. “Yes, of course.”

"Capt'n."

Drew turned to regard his crew with a glare. From his peripheral, he saw Emma nod at Daniella and Daniella head back down the staircase. He wanted to snap at her about leaving now, feeling the seconds slip from his fingertips the way grains of sand so easily escaped his hands. Instead, he growled at his crew.

"I heard Casey also put in an order at The Plantation," he said. "If your order is not ready until tonight, perhaps he is forced to stay another evening before leaving just the same."

This relieved Drew more than he was willing to admit.

"Matt." Drew stepped in front of the scrawny Shadow, perfect for crawling up the mast and sitting in the crow's nest all day. "From your vantage point, did you see any boats or ships coming or going?"

"I was only there until dawn," Matt said, "and then I went belowdeck. But during my shift, I saw no ships leave and no ships come."

Drew nodded. That made him feel slightly better. As far as Matt saw, no one had left into the greater seas, which meant they were still on or surrounding the island.

"Captain Knight," Emma said, walking over to him. "Might I make a suggestion?" She did not wait for his response. "Dismiss your crew. Go back to your quarters. Rest. You will need it. We will find Kelia, but we won't be able to do it with your barking orders at everyone."

Drew opened his mouth to argue before slowly closing it. Emma was right. He needed rest. The only problem was, he highly doubted sleep would come.