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Authors: Heather Graham
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perfect calm. She pointed.
Apparently he saw nothing. He frowned and looked in the direction of the woman, then
swam toward the area bordering the coral where Gen indicated. He stopped just to the
side of the ghost and gently began to sift through the sand.
So she was insane.
But the ghost’s specter or aura or whatever was pointing, as well. Genevieve forced
herself to breathe, listening to the lulling sound of her regulator. Okay, she was crazy.
But the ghost wanted her to go in a certain direction.
She went.
Nothing. Nothing at all. Sand, without a hint that something might be lying beneath it. He looked back again. His partner was moving. She looked back at him and indicated that he
should follow her.
She had the strangest expression on her face.
Shit! The woman was seeing things again. He was sure of it.
He waved, determined to get her attention, to snap her out of whatever strange
hallucination had seized her. He had no idea where she was going, or why.
She nodded to acknowledge him but ignored his signal, indicating that they should circle
around the coral outcrop rather than move on.
She didn’t appear to be distressed; maybe he was jumping to conclusions. But neither did
she seem willing to allow him to take the lead. With a controlled motion of her fins, she
went shooting on farther to the southwest.
He followed her. She had stopped again, as if following some unseen guidance.
She dove deeper, past a strip of high fan coral, down to the seabed, another fifteen feet or so. He followed. It was as if she knew exactly where she was going. There was no
hesitation in her movements.
At the bottom, she stopped and stared at the sand, then began searching.
She had lost it, he decided. Completely.
It was just sand. No different from the sand she had pointed to moments ago.
All right. He would give it a go. They were searching for a pack of needles in a pile of
very large haystacks, so what the hell.
He began to search, as well, carefully, trying not to roil the sand. He unearthed a small
ray. Disgruntled, the creature shot away.
She was sifting the sand, as well. She dug calmly, at first, but then she began to search
frantically.
He watched her, ready to haul her up and, once they reached the surface, explode. Hell.
He wasn’t diving with her anymore, and that was that.
He reached out for her. She was strong; he hadn’t planned on that. She wrenched her arm
away from him. When she did, her hand hit the sand, hard. The granules danced up into
the water, darkening it. He was about to go for her with a more powerful grip when he
noticed something that didn’t quite belong. Something that looked like a black, crusty
blob.
He reached for it instead of for her.
When the object was in his hand, he felt the familiar—and pleasurable—adrenalin rush.
He wasn’t sure, but…
He reached for the dive knife in the sheath at his ankle, snapped it out and scraped carefully at the piece. He looked up as the black coat of time, oxidation and sea growth
slowly gave way.
She was staring at him, waiting. Dead calm, perfectly buoyant, as if she were floating in
air. Those eyes of hers, behind the mask….
She knew.
He looked at her and nodded slowly.
Gold.
“I don’t understand,” Bethany said, seriously confused. She untangled a length of her
freshly washed hair with her fingers. “You should be on cloud nine. That was a Spanish
gold piece you found. Minted in Cuba, Marshall thinks, though he admits he isn’t sure
yet. But if so…then it has to have come from the Marie Josephine.
Genevieve nodded, brushing her own hair out before the mirror. “I am delighted.”
Delighted? Did she dare tell the truth, even to Bethany?
“Well, Thor picked it up, right?”
“What?”
“He’s the one who actually found the piece.”
“Like hell!”
“Don’t bite my head off. You two were together. The first discovery goes to you as a
team. That will teach them to rib you! As if you
Apparently he saw nothing. He frowned and looked in the direction of the woman, then
swam toward the area bordering the coral where Gen indicated. He stopped just to the
side of the ghost and gently began to sift through the sand.
So she was insane.
But the ghost’s specter or aura or whatever was pointing, as well. Genevieve forced
herself to breathe, listening to the lulling sound of her regulator. Okay, she was crazy.
But the ghost wanted her to go in a certain direction.
She went.
Nothing. Nothing at all. Sand, without a hint that something might be lying beneath it. He looked back again. His partner was moving. She looked back at him and indicated that he
should follow her.
She had the strangest expression on her face.
Shit! The woman was seeing things again. He was sure of it.
He waved, determined to get her attention, to snap her out of whatever strange
hallucination had seized her. He had no idea where she was going, or why.
She nodded to acknowledge him but ignored his signal, indicating that they should circle
around the coral outcrop rather than move on.
She didn’t appear to be distressed; maybe he was jumping to conclusions. But neither did
she seem willing to allow him to take the lead. With a controlled motion of her fins, she
went shooting on farther to the southwest.
He followed her. She had stopped again, as if following some unseen guidance.
She dove deeper, past a strip of high fan coral, down to the seabed, another fifteen feet or so. He followed. It was as if she knew exactly where she was going. There was no
hesitation in her movements.
At the bottom, she stopped and stared at the sand, then began searching.
She had lost it, he decided. Completely.
It was just sand. No different from the sand she had pointed to moments ago.
All right. He would give it a go. They were searching for a pack of needles in a pile of
very large haystacks, so what the hell.
He began to search, as well, carefully, trying not to roil the sand. He unearthed a small
ray. Disgruntled, the creature shot away.
She was sifting the sand, as well. She dug calmly, at first, but then she began to search
frantically.
He watched her, ready to haul her up and, once they reached the surface, explode. Hell.
He wasn’t diving with her anymore, and that was that.
He reached out for her. She was strong; he hadn’t planned on that. She wrenched her arm
away from him. When she did, her hand hit the sand, hard. The granules danced up into
the water, darkening it. He was about to go for her with a more powerful grip when he
noticed something that didn’t quite belong. Something that looked like a black, crusty
blob.
He reached for it instead of for her.
When the object was in his hand, he felt the familiar—and pleasurable—adrenalin rush.
He wasn’t sure, but…
He reached for the dive knife in the sheath at his ankle, snapped it out and scraped carefully at the piece. He looked up as the black coat of time, oxidation and sea growth
slowly gave way.
She was staring at him, waiting. Dead calm, perfectly buoyant, as if she were floating in
air. Those eyes of hers, behind the mask….
She knew.
He looked at her and nodded slowly.
Gold.
“I don’t understand,” Bethany said, seriously confused. She untangled a length of her
freshly washed hair with her fingers. “You should be on cloud nine. That was a Spanish
gold piece you found. Minted in Cuba, Marshall thinks, though he admits he isn’t sure
yet. But if so…then it has to have come from the Marie Josephine.
Genevieve nodded, brushing her own hair out before the mirror. “I am delighted.”
Delighted? Did she dare tell the truth, even to Bethany?
“Well, Thor picked it up, right?”
“What?”
“He’s the one who actually found the piece.”
“Like hell!”
“Don’t bite my head off. You two were together. The first discovery goes to you as a
team. That will teach them to rib you! As if you
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