by Chris Fox
For all three of us, Blair thought. Bridget was still in the back of the plane. She’d made herself scarce for the entirety of the eleven-hour flight. He knew her well enough to know that something was wrong, something that had to do with Steve. Was it guilt over what they’d done back in Panama? Maybe she felt like she’d betrayed Steve in the same way she’d once betrayed Blair. What did that make him?
“Can you feel him?” Steve asked.
Blair pointed out the co-pilot’s window to the area just south of the Richmond Bridge. He could feel something there, pulsing in a deep rhythm that might have been a heartbeat. “Oakland, maybe. Or Berkeley. Irakesh could be farther out than that, but probably not too far. He’s getting close. We should find a spot to set down.”
“Yeah, that’s going to be a problem,” Steve replied, banking in a long, slow turn that carried them towards the ocean near the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to suggest?” Blair asked, scanning the bay for an answer. It was cluttered with boats of all sizes, from the massive ferry he used to take into the city to smaller sailboats.
“The bridge isn’t an option and I doubt we’ll find a stretch of highway that will work. We don’t need the plane any more, either. If we survive this, we can get another one. It has to be a water landing. It’s the only way,” Steve gave back in that detached calm that Blair so envied. “I can take us north along the coast, maybe dump this thing somewhere near Stinson beach. We can hike up Mount Tam and into Mill Valley. That will put us just north of the bridge.”
Blair thought hard, scanning the shadowed skyscrapers without much hope. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood. “All right. I can’t think of a better idea. We’ll do a water landing. I’ll go let Bridget know. How long?”
“Maybe ten minutes? Might be less. This thing moves almost six hundred miles an hour,” he said, glancing at Blair as the plane righted its course. “Grab what you think we need from the back. We’re going to have to get out the second we hit the water, or risk getting pulled under when this thing floods. I know we’re werewolves and all but I still don’t think we’d enjoy that.”
Blair nodded, ducking through the door into first class. Bridget had organized the place, moving the green duffles Steve had loaded into neat stacks near the door. She looked up as Blair entered, her gaze darting towards the cockpit. There was fear there. He wasn’t imagining it. She perked up a bit when her attention moved to him, but he could tell she was still laboring under the weight of something she couldn’t share.
“Are we there yet?” she asked, delivering a weak smile. Chestnut curls dusted the shoulders of a tight blouse she’d been wearing for the last couple of days. He let his eyes linger for a moment.
“Nearly. But ‘there’ isn’t the airport. There isn’t any place to set down, especially without power. There are no runway lights and we don’t have enough fuel to wait until dawn,” Blair explained, dropping into the plush leather seat next to hers.
“Oh, god. We’re setting down in the bay, aren’t we?” Bridget asked, hand resting on the edge of his chair. She wasn’t tall enough to actually reach his arm, so he leaned into her. It felt good.
“Yup, water landing. Steve’s going to dump us right off the coast. He wants us to grab what we can. We’re going to make for shore and hike in,” Blair explained. A detached part of his mind realized just how crazy that plan sounded, but there wasn’t the slightest doubt in his mind they could pull it off. This was the easy part.
“Okay. The three bags on the left of the door are probably the most important. Food, water, and weapons mostly,” she said, gesturing at the bags with a delicate hand. She wore the beginnings of a smile, shy enough that it might run back into hiding at any moment. “Blair, listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I mean, I know this isn’t the best time, but I just want you to know…” She trailed off, words seeming to elude her. Her gaze shone with feeling. It said all the things she seemed incapable of.
This is your She, Ka-Dun. Feel the strength of her bond.
Blair’s mind went immediately to Liz. Was she okay?
“Listen, I know things went south a long time ago. We both remember what happened,” he said, leaning over and taking her hand. He paused, staring into her eyes for long moments before continuing. “We’ve all made mistakes. I know you regret what happened, and looking back I think I can see why you did what you did. I’m not excusing it. It was horrible. But I’ve stopped hating you for it and you need to stop hating yourself. Let it go, all right?”
The smile burst to life and she buried her face in his chest. Blair encircled her in his arms, stroking her hair. Hot wet tears soaked through his shirt. His chest grew warm, and he whispered into her ear, “We’re going to get through this. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Steve, but that’s not my business. What is my business is us. When this is over, we’ll sit down and have a long talk. I don’t really know where we stand. There’s a lot to sort out, but we’ll do it together, okay?”
She pulled back, wiping her eyes as she smiled up at him. The gesture left streaks of black in their wake. He hadn’t realized she was still wearing makeup. She’d always been skilled enough in its application that he could rarely tell. Her posture straightened and her chin took on that set that told him she was about to do something she found terrifying.
“Blair, you have to watch out for Steve,” she said, gaze more sober than it had ever been. She paused, glancing at the cockpit before those deep brown eyes found him again. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but it isn’t good. It’s the same way he acted just before he and I…well, before we did what we did to you. Only this time it’s worse. Blair, he hates you now, no matter what you might think.”
“I won’t argue with that. I embarrassed him. He’ll never forgive that. Ever. But I don’t see what he’d stand to gain in screwing me over,” Blair said, leaning back against the leather. He’d expected a lot of things from Bridget, but this wasn’t one of them. How long had she been carrying this around, worrying about telling him?
Your She speaks with wisdom. This rival Ka-Dun cannot be trusted.
“Just watch yourself around him, okay?” she asked, resting an arm on his bicep as she rose to her feet. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”
“I promise, but you’ll look out for me, right? Bridget, you’re a female. I’m not worried about Steve,” he said, giving her as warm a smile as he could muster. She was clearly worried and that suggested Steve had given her cause. Just what was the bastard up to? It didn’t matter. Blair needed him right now.
“You two almost finished back there?” Steve yelled from the cockpit. The perfect timing suggested he’d been listening to their conversation and wanted them to know. Or wanted Bridget to know, anyway. What was he holding over her?
“Yeah,” Blair called back, rising to join Bridget. “We’ll get the emergency door ready to open as soon as we hit the water.”
“Might want to buckle in,” Steve yelled back, leaning over his chair so they could see his face through the cockpit’s open door. “This is going to be a rough landing. Surf’s pretty choppy from what I can see.”
“You ready for this?” Blair asked, turning to Bridget.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Just remember what I said,” she replied, rising to her tiptoes to kiss him. She broke it a moment later, giving an embarrassed smile as she knelt to retrieve one of the bulky canvas duffles. “This bag’s the most important, but those two would be nice to have as well. I’ll grab another one after we hit the water. You can pick up the last one.”
“One last thing before we go. Steve showed it to me while we were in the cockpit earlier,” Blair said, resting his hands on her shoulder. He stared deep into her eyes.
I’ve got a gift for you. As much as I might enjoy it, I’m sure you’re tired of shredding your clothes when you change, Blair thought, extending his mind towards Bridget. He pushed the same memory Steve had sh
ared, impressing it upon her mind.
Bridget gasped, then gave one of the delighted smiles he’d so loved in their previous life. In the blink of an eye she shifted to a full nine feet of silver ferocity, her clothes disappearing into her skin as she did so. She gave a wolfish grin, “Thank you, Blair. This is an incredible gift. I can’t believe he shared it with you.”
There was a loud whirring and a sudden clunk as the plane’s landing gear extended. Was that useful over water? Steve must think so. The plane descended sharply. Blair glanced at the windows, which revealed a shadowed expanse of green on a low squat mountain. Mount Tam, a place he’d hiked dozens of times over the years. Clusters of coastal redwoods dotted the top shoulder, leading down familiar trails into Muir Woods.
The plane dipped to the side, revealing a thin strip of dark, dark blue. The unmistakably cold waters of the northern California coast. It bordered a thin strip of sand lined with clusters of buildings. Stinson Beach, the overpriced mecca so much of San Francisco fled to on the weekends. It was beautiful under the darkening sky, but growing closer at an alarming rate.
The plane dropped sharply, angled downward. The roar of the engines softened as they slowed, the coast still whipping by but much less quickly now.
“This is it,” Steve bellowed from the cockpit. Blair braced himself against the seat closest to the emergency exit.
The plane shook as it impacted, tossing him forward as water sprayed up over the windows. He kept his footing, just barely. Bridget-wolf seemed unfazed, already shouldering the second duffle as she yanked on the long red bar labeled emergency. The plane had already begun listing to the rear, the sea visible through the windows in the back rows.
Then the door opened. Blair expected water to rush in right away, but found they were several feet over the soft swells lapping at the side of the plane. For just a moment it looked like a large boat, but steam rose from the engines, dispelling the illusion. Steve rushed towards them from the cockpit, sunglasses still affixed to his nose.
“Let’s get the hell out of here before this thing goes down,” he yelled.
Bridget didn’t hesitate, diving into the water in an impressive arc of fur and muscle. The duffels didn’t slow her at all. Blair hoisted his own, diving after her into the frigid Pacific. The shock of it washed over him as he went under, but he kicked powerfully muscled legs. The motion carried him into the moonlight, and he began to swim for shore.
53
Sobek
The Mother leapt to the prow of the strange vessel, a truly massive craft shaped from forged steel. She landed on the rusted metal, balancing on the balls of her feet as she enjoyed the salty wind.
Such a marvel would have been impossible in her day. They’d never thought to construct things from so much metal. It seemed an incredible waste of a material that had been deemed precious in her time. Yet the people of this world used it everywhere, in buildings, conveyances, even toys.
The ship cut through the waves under a sky that boiled with harsh grey clouds. It had rained the last seven days and would rain again before the sun left the sky. The thickest patch of clouds had gathered above an expanse of black rock that loomed out of the ocean. She recognized it, of course. The place these moderns called Easter Island had been holy during her age, the wide cliffs encircling a deep crater hidden from view. It was there that she’d find the rock she needed.
They rounded the immense volcanic stone, which brought a beach into view. Stark blue waves crashed along the shore, but that wasn’t what drew her eye. Eleven rocks stood all in a row. They were too tall and thin to be natural, and though they’d been worn by wind and time they still resembled people.
“Rodrigo,” she called, turning back toward the bridge of the vessel behind her. The tall windows were obscured by a salty film, but she could see his form within. Could smell his apprehension. It was always there around her, that lingering fear. “What are those things along the cliff?”
“Those are the Moai statues, Mother,” he explained, bobbing his head. “The natives erected them centuries ago. They claimed they were full of mana and that they could use the energy to smite their enemies.”
“So something of this place’s significance has survived the gulf of time,” she mused, directing her attention back to the tall man. “Make port. This is the place I have long sought. I would sup on the holy shore, winds willing.”
Yukon trotted to the rail she perched on, placing his hind paws on the edge so he could peer over the side. Such a simple, trusting creature. So unlike the mighty wolf, yet the dog was loyal and trusting, compassionate and forgiving. These qualities had no place in her world, but perhaps they were needed in this one. Yukon had much to teach her.
“Mother,” Rodrigo called back, moving from the massive wheel that guided the ship. His dark form passed behind the glass until he emerged into the sunlight, the bill of his strange black cap shading his eyes. “Lorenzo spotted something on the northwestern side of the island. He's not sure what to make of it.”
She whirled, scanning the cliffs. A bit of energy flowed into her eyes, sharpening the frothy waves dashing themselves against the porous black rock. Between a pair of outcroppings a small ship perhaps half the size of her vessel was moored to the base of the cliff. Several dark figures scurried down a rope dangling from the side with incredible speed, faster than any unblooded could track. They were blurring. The Mother did the same, expending more energy as she accelerated to many times their speed. Now the figures moved like falling feathers, while everything else around her appeared frozen.
A trio of green scaly creatures with menacing snouts, each with blood-red eyes. It couldn’t be. Only one god used such minions, but he was in the Cradle. How could he have arrived so soon? She’d not delayed for more than a few days and had much less distance to travel.
She dropped the blur, spinning to face Rodrigo. “Drop anchor, then get the other unblooded below decks. My foes have arrived before us. I may be able to barter with them, but your presence will inflame their hunger and they may not be able to control themselves. For your own safety you must flee.”
In her own time her servants would have died rather than leave her side, but Rodrigo had no such compunctions. He ducked back into the cabin, diving for the lever that released the anchor. Then he seized the microphone, his voice booming across every deck. “Attention, everyone, this is Captain Rodrigo. All personnel report to the fuel storage room on deck six immediately. Go now. Drop anything you are doing and run.”
Then he was following his own advice, dropping the microphone in his haste to scramble through the oddly shaped door at the rear of the cabin. Some might call the action cowardice, but the Mother was pleased by his obedience. He’d been an excellent servant, one worthy of the sacrifice.
A warm nose nudged her thigh. Yukon’s liquid brown eyes peered up at her. He sent no thoughts, despite his newly awakened intelligence. He merely waited expectantly for her will. She smiled, stroking his soft golden fur. “Yukon, you may wait here. They will sense our connection and shall not harm you. But do not attack, no matter what happens.”
Yukon laid down at her feet, licking an errant patch of fur on his hindquarters. Then he froze, hackles rising as he leapt to his feet.
“Calm, Yukon,” she said, gripping the fur at the back of his neck so tightly she nearly pulled him from the deck.
Her fears were justified a moment later when a figure blurred into place on the rail directly in front of her. A second appeared to starboard and another to port, but it was the one before her that she focused on.
“Hello, Sobek,” she said, slowly releasing her grip on Yukon. She straightened and took a slow step towards the reptilian god. “You’re a very long way from the Cradle.”
She was still horrified by his appearance, even all these millennia later. His once handsome visage had been twisted beyond recognition. He’d always been fascinated by the crocodiles that prowled the mouth of the River of Life where it spilled into the
sea. They were patient, powerful killers that men had long feared. Even the occasional deathless had fallen to their jaws. Sobek had been so obsessed that he’d begged her and Ptah to shape him into their likeness, more reptile than man now.
“Yes,” he thrummed, voice low and deep. His mottled green snout split into a toothy grin. “I did not seek refuge there. I slumbered elsewhere, somewhere far closer to the Pole. You are not the only deity to understand the significance of this place, nor to seek position in this age.” His long tail swished across the deck, a languid reminder that he could strike at any moment.
“Do you really expect me to allow you to establish control over the Lesser Pole, a site so close to my own stronghold you could come upon me within days?” she asked, shifting as she spoke. By the time she’d finished, the words were low and deep, possessed of a violence to match his own. It was time to remind him who he’d accosted.
“You mistake me, Isis,” he replied, chest rumbling out a low laugh. He dropped into a crouch. “I neither seek nor desire your approval. My master will have this island and it will aid him in dominating this new world. That does not mean I will attack you, but it does mean I will deny you this place.”
The Mother’s mind raced, thoughts and connections forming as she considered all she knew from her millennia with the man Sobek had once been. He valued no one outside himself, save in that they could help serve his agenda. They were nothing but tools. But in that she found her answer.
She blurred, far faster than even Sobek could track. A direct strike at him would avail her nothing, as even her mighty claws would find difficult purchase on that scaly hide. So she took one of his two thralls, grabbing the vassal around its wide neck. The other arm encircled its chest, pinning the beast’s arms.