Paradise Island by Charmaine Ross

back, swirling around his body with fingers that wanted to drag him back into the depths of the ocean. There was a stretch of black shore marked by the peaked white caps of crashing sea water. Beyond that a cliff line stretched endlessly. There were no houses, no pinpricks of light, no hope of civilization. They were on their own.
    Estelle strode towards the shore. There was no mistaking her svelte form merging from the darker shadows of the waves. She strode purposefully out of the water, and fell to her knees in the sand and fisted her hands in her hair. She seemed like a woman that could go forever but in this moment she looked totally lost.
    Gregory strode towards her and sunk onto the sand next to her. His own limbs were numb, exhausted from fighting the surge of freezing waves against cuffed hands. He tipped his head back, opening his lungs to fill them with the sweet, fresh air of the ocean, thankful that he was still able to do it. Eventually his heart pounded some strength back into his limbs, but his mind was still blank, lost in the question of what had just happened to them.
    â€œMy crew. My ship!” Estelle cried softly to herself. Her tormented face was lit by the silvery, translucent moonlight.
    â€œDo you have any idea what the hell just happened to us?” Gregory asked.
    She kept her eyes trained on the ocean. “The worst just happened to us.” Her voice was a husky flat tone.
    The frustration that burst in him was palpable. He needed answers and she was the only one that could provide them. She knew damn well what had happened to them and she was going to tell him. He forced his voice out in a calm tone. “We were being chased by an army of ships. They fired on us. The mast broke and we fell from the ship, and now we are not in the same waters, indeed not in the same part of the world, it seems.” He drew a breath, held it and made his mind work in the logical fashion for which he was renowned. Maybe if they pieced back the moments before, they would discover what had happened.
    Estelle softly gasped. Gregory slid a glance at her. She looked like she had been struck by a flash of insight. “Dalia,” Estelle whispered.
    â€œWho is Dalia?” Gregory asked.
    â€œShe was frightened. She didn’t want to use her gift. I told her to do it. It was the only way to save everyone. If it wasn’t for those ships attacking us, if I didn’t ask it of her, she wouldn’t have done it.”
    A cold lump grew in the pit of his stomach. “What exactly did she do, Estelle?”
    â€œShe did something I asked of her, against her better judgment. What if this happened to everyone aboard the
Wanderlust
? What if all my crew is scattered who knows where, or worse, what if they all perished?” She sunk her face into her hands. She shook her head and her body trembled. “They could be all gone. Claire. Dalia. There’s no way of knowing where they are.” She let out an anguished moan.
    A pulse ticked in his temple. “Estelle, you need to tell me more.”
    She lifted her head and regarded him silently, assessing him. He held her gaze evenly, measuring up her consideration. The wind picked at her wet hair. Thick, wavy strands tossed about her shoulders. The light from the moon made her skin translucent, her features soft, feminine. She wiped away an errant tear from the corner of her eye, but held his gaze steadily.
    â€œDalia is a dear friend of mine. I have known her for years. She was treated miserably at the hands of her slave master and was often beaten up. Have I shocked you?”
    Gregory shook his head and was careful to hold her gaze. “Go on.”
    â€œAfter one such session she discovered she had a special ability: she was able to
hide
things. If she concentrated, she could hide objects around her and remain out of sight of her master, even if she was right in front of him. After a while she got very good at it, and often was able