Drake Sisters 04 - Dangerous Tides

beckoning brew far below the jutting cliffs. The sight was mesmerizing. As hard as he tried, he could not pull his fascinated gaze away or stop listening to the voices murmuring in the thunder—calling—calling. He wiped his hand over his face to clear his head. His skin was wet, but he wasn't certain if it was the drizzling rain or his own tears. The waves boomed again, this time the sound hollow to his ears, a lost soul as haunted as he was. A summons.

    He forced his hands over his ears to drown out the mournful howl, but the wind struck at him, demanding attention, insistent that he listen. He stumbled back, shaking his head, slipped, teetering for just a moment. Let go. Let go . The voices in the wind urged him. Freedom was a step or two away.

    "No!" He shook his head and felt behind him for the security of the fence. His fingers gripped the wood so tight his knuckles turned white. He stared down at his hands, forcing his gaze from the roiling water below. He had to tell someone, make them understand what was going on. But who was there to tell?
    They'd lock him up if he told them the tides were dangerous. Something lived there, and it was hungry.

    HANNAH Drake stood on the captain's walk facing the sea. The wind beat at her with unusual fury, sending her long hair whipping across her face. Waves pounded relentlessly, and somewhere in the distance she thought she heard a cry of alarm. Hannah stepped closer to the protective railing and turned in the direction she thought the elusive sound had come from. Three times now she'd felt uneasy—and three times she'd failed to find the source.

    She glanced at her home. Her sisters waited for her, their warmth and happiness filling up the cold emptiness, but she couldn't go to them yet. She had to make one more try. She threw her head back and stared up at the sky. Clouds partially obscured the moon, casting dark shadows over the light. Her breath lodged in her throat as she caught sight of the double ring around the moon—dark red to black.

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    "Hannah!" Libby Drake called. "Come save me. I'm getting picked on!"

    Hannah drew her sweater closer around her and hurried back into the safe haven of her home. Trouble was coming very soon, but she didn't know where—or at whom—it would strike. She needed the laughter and camaraderie of her sisters to dispel the fear growing inside of her. Sometimes her gifts were a curse.

    Libby slipped her arm around Hannah as they went down the stairs together. "You okay? You're shivering with cold."

    "I'm fine. I'm looking forward to our get-together tonight," Hannah replied, hugging Libby close. Just touching Libby could soothe away her fears. She forced a smile as she joined her sisters, throwing herself on the floor in the warm circle. "So tell me why you're all picking on Libby." She glanced one last time toward a window and then turned away. There was nothing she could do, so she turned her attention to her sisters and the enjoyment they always brought her.

    "All I said was, I'm tired of being Goody Two-shoes. I'm changing my image completely and becoming a bad girl," Libby announced.

    "Libby, you crack me up," Sarah Drake said to her younger sister. "You don't have a mean bone in your body. You couldn't be a bad girl if you tried."

    Libby scowled at Sarah and then glared at the circle of faces surrounding her. "I am not the Goody Two-shoes you all think I am."

    "Oh, really?" Joley Drake raised an eyebrow from where she was sprawled out on the floor. "Name one person in this world you'd like to see take a flight to Mars. Someone you utterly despise."

    Laughter rang through the living room. "No way is that possible." Hannah leaned over to kiss Libby on her temple. "We all adore you, hon, but you really don't have it in you to be a bad girl. Not like me—or Joley." She looked at the youngest sister. "Or Elle."

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    The laughter increased and Elle shrugged. "It's the red hair. I take no responsibility for my… er…
    interesting personality."

    "It's way more fun to be bad," Joley said, unrepentant. "No one expects you to do the right thing and you're never really in trouble. Mom and Dad never expected me to be polite and kind when we were growing up. They spent all their time telling me to censor myself." She reached for a cookie and sat up to drink her tea. "I