"An nail nathrac," Morgan whispered into the rain. "An di allaigh, nail nithben, holleigh rac bier…." And on the spell went, the strongest spell she could weave with no preparation. She called on the wind and the rain and the clouds. She opened her hands and the clouds lightened and began to part. She threw up her hands and the rain lessened, backing off as if chastised. Morgan didn't care if anyone was watching or not. Everything in her wrought a spell that would snatch Hunter back from the very brink of his grave. When she opened her eyes, the rain had slowed to a repentant drizzle; the seas had begun to calm. Morgan felt weak, nauseated, from working such powerful magick. Slowly she forced her legs to take her to the crowd of people huddling on the dock. Voices floated to her over the sounds of sobbing, like chunks of debris on water.

"Never seen nothing like it."

"Unnatural, that's what it was."

"Wave reached up and pulled them down."

"And then like that, the storm stopped."

Morgan froze when she saw the line of sheet-covered bodies on the ground. Men and women were crying, arguing, denying what had happened. Some ferry passengers had been saved, and they sat huddled, looking shocked and afraid.

Hunter wasn't among them. Nor among the dead, lying on the ground.

Morgan gathered every ounce of strength and power within her and sent it out in the world. If Hunter is alive, I will feel it. If any part of his spirit is there, I will feel it I will know. She stayed perfectly still, eyes closed, hands out. Her chest expanded and was aching with her effort. Never had she cast her senses, her powers with so much strength before. Never had everything in her striven to sense someone. She almost cried out with the strain of it, feeling as if she would fly apart. Hunter, are you alive? Where are you?