“How much will it cost for you to call a charter boat that will take us now?”
“No charter will go tonight; the port is closed—”
I cut her off with a smile. “How much will it cost foryouto make that call now? It’s an inconvenience and I would like to appropriately compensate you for your troubles, given that you make that call, of course.”
Her face shutters.
For a beat, she considers me, studies me, and I think she’s trying to work out if I’m bribing her or she’s misunderstanding me.
“One hundred?” I urge her along. “No, of course not. Two hundred.”
She blinks—stunned… then, “Three.”
“You make those calls, get a charter organised for us tonight—and I will give you three hundred cash.”
Her nod is brisk, then she’s immediately reaching for the radio. “It’ll be quick,” she tells me. “He’s coming back with passengers now, maybe another ten minutes away, and he’ll take you where you want to go for the right price.”
The smile that splits my face is relieved. “Thank you.”
She starts on the radio—and I rush back to Serena. I get three hundred cash from her and, after dropping it off at the booth, we wait.
By the booth, in the open winds, being chased down by the Coven of Europe, ten minutes feels like a long time.
But eventually, that time ends.
Three passengers are coming up the boards, a little wobbly in their steps, and I don’t think it’s sea legs that has them swaying with the winds.
The woman jerks her chin—
And that’s all the signal we need before we’re rushing down the boardwalk to the boat whose white light bobs in the dark.
Scraggly hair is what I notice first.
A man in overalls and a woollen jumper stands in the cascade of light, waiting for us.
He sounds as gruff as he looks, “Where?”
Serena answers, “Out of the UK.”
The man considers us for a moment.
His mouth tilts, and it’s all wrinkled like a cat’s bum. “Best I can do is take you to the Dutch. We’re safer stickin’ close to thecoastline down the North Sea—and that’ll take…” He tuts. “With the winds, we’re lookin’ at maybe seventeen hours.”
My brows raise.
Seventeen hours.
Sea travel is slow. I didn’t realise it wasthatslow.
Serena juts her chin. “What is your price?”
His tongue rolls along the bite of his teeth as he eyes us over. Then, with a tongue-smack, he decides, “A thousand.” His grin spreads around his glossy teeth. “Each.”
We have the cash—or rather, she has it.
So I decide, “Done.”
His grin hangs in place as he steps aside, gesturing us onto the boat.
