Death Fleet: Devil Ship Series Book 3

A dark storm is coming… Sara Hansen came to Sainte Isabel looking for paradise. What she found was an island haunted by an ancient curse. A spectral ship stalks the coast, crewed by the undead souls of the vilest pirates ever to sail the high seas. And when a local fishing boat goes missing, Sara suspects the Devil Ship has struck again… After the abandoned boat washes ashore, Sara joins the search for the lost crew. But she can’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—is watching her. A dark presence lurks within the jungle. And she can feel its gaze, like an icy chill against her skin… As a violent storm looms on the horizon, Sara is tormented with visions of more terror to come. A ghostly fleet sets sail upon the raging sea. The festering spirits of over a thousand years of piracy and bloodshed are about to be unleashed upon the tiny island’s inhabitants. Death is coming. And only Sara can stop it… PRINT LENGTH AUDIO LENGTH NARRATED BY PRODUCT DIMENSION ISBN LANGUAGE English PUBLICATION DATE November 02, 2020 Read a Sample   Chapter 7: Kote Sakre “I can remember the way to the ruins,” said Sara, leading them beyond the boundary of Pirate Cove and into the trees. “I think.” Keri liked the jungle—in theory. She was in favor of nature unspoiled by human interference and believed in treading lightly on Mother Earth. In practice, she was concerned about stepping on things that might bite her or—what was worse—their rotting remains. She had put on a pair of stout walking boots along with old denim shorts and one of Ryan’s long-sleeved shirts. Even if she’d wanted to look stylish, practicality came first. Sara, too, was dressed sensibly for the tropical night. Keri was not so sure about her friend’s mindset. The last time they had been in the jungle together, Sara had been possessed, and Keri had failed to stop her from acting very crazy indeed. Was it possible this situation would send Sara over the edge again, albeit in a different way? Keri was ready for anything—or so she told herself. “I think I see a trail,” Sara said over her shoulder. “Yeah,” Keri said, telling herself she saw it, too. Sunset painted the jungle in shades of fiery red. But the tropical twilight passed swiftly, and by the time the sound of the sea was out of earshot, it was almost pitch-dark. They had flashlights. When they flicked them on, clouds of bugs appeared, some fleeing the blue-white radiance, some lured by the light. Thousands of tiny eyes observed them from the air, from the trees, from the undergrowth. “You think we’re being watched?” Keri asked. “By people, that is?” “We’re making enough noise even without the lights,” Sara replied. “In the movies, jungles are easier. I’m already scratched all to hell.” Sara stumbled, clutched at a branch that whipped at Keri’s face when it was released. Keri dodged in time and almost fell, catching herself against a tree. Something sticky and warm oozed under her fingers. She pulled her hand away, shone her flashlight. She screamed. “Blood!” Sara stopped, and they examined the tree. It was oozing some kind of sap—reddish, dark, very much like blood. Keri thought of Dante’s Inferno, one of the many classics she had struggled with during the pandemic. The sticky red fluid reminded her of the forest of suicides, where those who had taken their lives in despair were transformed into trees that bled in perpetuity. “Just tree sap, right?” Sara said. “Right,” said Keri, rubbing the vile stuff onto her shorts and Ryan’s shirt. Once thoughts of blood and suffering were in her mind, Keri could not dispel them. She thought of Theresa Mountjoy’s books, in particular the history of the islands. The graphic depiction of what the Spanish conquistadores had done to the natives of the Antilles was impossible to suppress. The wood for those posts had been taken from this forest. “The Lost Ones,” said Sara, stopping suddenly. Keri almost collided with Sara. They froze and Sara clicked off her flashlight. Keri followed suit. In the darkness, the jungle sounds grew louder, the chirping and buzzing of insects mixed with the odd screech of a night bird. And now, Keri could feel the scrutiny of unearthly watchers, the tingling sensation she recalled from the beach. “What do you want from us?” she whispered. A sudden breeze rustled the leaves around and above them. In it, she could almost hear words, many voices blended into one. But the message, if there was one, eluded her. “You hear that?” Keri asked. “Something, maybe,” said Sara. “But maybe we’ll find out more later. Come on.” The flashlights startled the small creatures again, and they continued to follow the faint trail. Eventually, they came to the ruins of the old French fort. They paused on the edge of the clearing and waited, turning off their flashlights again. Once Keri’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she was almost sure that the clearing was full of people. Three walked forward and passed through the rest, the half-seen figures dissipating like mist. A light stabbed out, making Keri raise a hand to her eyes. It was a phone, Keri saw, held up by one of Mama Bondurant’s girls. Only three other people were visible now. “You came,” said the tall woman. “Did you think we wouldn’t?” Sara said. “Why are they watching us? What do they want from us?”