Convinced the demon wasn’t nearby, he followed Aura on board.
The tension in his muscles released as his boots hit the deck of the Sea Dog. He could defend Aura from here.
Captain Flynn approached from the stern. “Expecting company?”
Greyson turned from the dock to face him. Their captain had his copper hair tied back in a tight ponytail, and the angles of his goatee were freshly cut. Being in this harbor, on this ship, standing beside this man, had painful memories encroaching.
“A demon has the Tyrfing.” Greyson rubbed his neck absently. “We’re trying to figure out how we can steal it without endangering Aura.” He looked around the deck and frowned. She must’ve gone below deck to find Char. His gaze flicked over to Flynn again. “I better keep an eye on her.”
Flynn caught his arm. “We need the sword.”
A muscle jumped in Greyson’s cheek. “I’m aware.”
“Then shouldn’t you be up here, ready to take it?” His brow arched. “Unless your priorities have shifted?”
Fuck. He didn’t give a shit about the sword anymore. Only her safety mattered.
But what about his crew?
“My loyalty is to the crew.” He glanced at the stairs and back to Flynn’s smug face. “But she’s my partner in this. And until this mission is over, we watch each other’s backs.”
“Don’t forget it was this crew who saved you from this port once before.” Flynn smirked. “And I don’t recall her being any part of it.”
“Fuck you,” Greyson growled, turning to go below.
From behind him, Flynn called out, “I hope she’s as loyal as you. It would be a pity for our master gunner to be stabbed in the back.”
He glared over his shoulder at Flynn without replying. The captain was trying to get a rise out of him, but Greyson didn’t have time for games.
On the lower deck, he poked his head into Aura’s cabin, but it was empty. Same with the armory. Finally he headed for the map room and found Aura sitting at the large table with Char. The historian had her electronic tablet on the table next to a weathered yellow text. Both women looked up as he entered.
He crossed to Aura’s side. “Can I help?”
Char blew out a frustrated breath. “Only if you can translate this Nordic text. Google translate leaves a bit to be desired.”
Aura met his eyes. “I think you were right about the sword having a destiny. Or at least…a goal.”
Char pressed her finger to the text. “I can’t find the meaning of this word, but I think it holds the key.”
Greyson glanced at it, but he was no language expert. He lifted his gaze. “What about Caleb?”
“Good idea,” Char agreed. “If he can’t translate it, maybe he knows someone who can.”
“I’ll find him.” Greyson pressed a quick kiss to Aura’s cheek. “Be right back, love.”
He jogged up the stairs to the main deck. Caleb stood beside Keegan behind the helm. Keegan was a dead ringer for Hook on a television show, especially when he was wearing his frock coat while he gripped the wheel. Greyson approached and quickly interrupted. “’Scuse me, Hook. I need Caleb in the navigation room.”
Keegan raised a brow at his teasing jab. “You’re just jealous.”
“Is everything all right?” Caleb asked.
“Depends on yer definition, mate.” Greyson sobered, scanning the dock again. “A demon has the Tyrfing, and the sword has a connection to Aura somehow. Char found a Norse text about the curse on the blade, but she can’t translate it.”
Caleb frowned. “I’m not fluent in the Nordic languages.” He paused and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “But I think I know someone who might be able to help us.”
The navigator made a call as they headed for the lower deck.
When they returned to Char and Aura, Caleb was finishing up his conversation. “Thanks, Mike. I’ll send over the text in a minute. ’Bye.” He looked over at Char. “Mike is a professor of Scandinavian languages at UGA. If anyone can translate the text, it would be him. Can I take a picture of the page and email it over to him?”
“Sure.” Char turned the book toward Caleb, pointing at a specific paragraph. “According to Google, this part mentions the curse, but I’m not getting a good translation on what follows.”
Caleb sent the picture and then looked at Aura. “What exactly happened with the sword? Greyson said you have a connection to it?”
Aura glanced at Greyson. He took her hand, hoping she understood he hadn’t told them about the chosen one. This was another test of their partnership, and although he loved and trusted his crew, her secrets weren’t his to tell.
She focused on Caleb as she spoke. “I heard a hiss or a buzzing coming from the sword and Greyson didn’t, so whatever the curse is, I’m connected to it somehow. We’re hoping the text might have some answers.”
“Do you know where the Tyrfing is now?” Caleb asked.
“Locationwise, no.” Aura shook her head. “But we know a demon stole it. We lost him earlier, but he won’t give up searching for me, so I expect he’ll be back.”
Caleb’s phone buzzed. He stared at his screen with a puzzled look as he read the text from his colleague aloud. “‘The curse will be ended once the magic is freed. Some of the text is very old, so I’m not sure I’m translating the exact meaning correctly, but basically it goes on to say anyone who grips the hilt of the Tyrfing will lose that which they hold dearest until the chosen one frees the magic from the blade. The legends about the Tyrfing are a metaphor for greed. One of those “be careful what you wish for” stories. I’ve never found a text about lifting the curse before. Where did you find this?’” Caleb cleared his throat, raising his gaze from the phone. “What should I tell him?”
Char pushed her glasses up her nose. “Maybe tell him a historian at the Maritime Museum in Savannah found it in a captain’s log full of Viking stories. That’s close enough to the truth.”
He sent the reply and tucked his phone into his pocket. “Did that help at all?”
“I think so.” Aura nodded slowly and met Greyson’s eyes. “Mammon is the demonic representation of greed. This demon called himself Agent Thomas Mamon at Department 13. If he really is the demon of greed, why would he need the Tyrfing? Maybe he didn’t realize the curse would turn on him, too.”
Greyson frowned, holding her gaze. “Do you think he hears the sword’s whispers? Could the sword have been pushing him to find the chosen one?”