I was still underwater; a murky circle of moonlight wavered above me. I didn’t understand how I could breathe, how it felt warm. The pain in my throat and my lungs was gone. Surely this was not how drowning was supposed to feel.
And then a beautiful woman, quite naked, floated to me and wrapped me in a tight embrace, a more intimate embrace than even my husband had ever attempted. Her long red hair floated around her head. Her solid green eyes sparkled like emeralds, and she held me fast as she asked me for my help. We drifted in lazy circles in the water.
- We need another priestess, she whispered in my ear.
- I don’t understand.
- The Lords get hungrier as your country grows larger. We need you. We will bring you back if you help us.
- Help you? What do I do?
- Feed the Lords Below, she answered. If they are appeased, they will remain in the depths and your people will remain safe. If they are not well fed, they will come on land. We are dedicated to protecting the land dwellers. Will you help us?
It was not as easy a question as it might have sounded. Other than Quentin, I held no particular affection for any of the “land dwellers” I had left behind. In my opinion, some of them—perhaps even most of them—richly deserved whatever terrible thing might happen to them.
But the beautiful woman was clutching me tightly and caressing my back as she murmured words in my ear.
- Please help us, she whispered. Please.
- May I return to my brother? I cared not about dying if it were only Simeon I were leaving behind, but thoughts of what might happen to Quentin disturbed me. I disliked the thought of leaving him alone with the cold, unkind Olivers, as I had often been the only thing standing between him and even worse mistreatment.
- Yes, but you must feed the ancients.
- Feed them what?
- Humans.
My eyes widened.
- How do I do that?
- We will send you help. But first you must help us.
She pressed her lips against mine. Her mouth tasted of salt and water, and in that kiss, she transferred all the knowledge of what I would become, what I would have to do. It was horrifying. It was exhilarating.
Deep at the bottom of the ocean, creatures still lived who had once been as gods when the Earth was covered in water, but they had been forgotten. They were ravenous for sacrifice. And I would make the offerings that stopped them from coming on shore and attacking the living above ground. The woman showed me visions of what the Lords had wrought when they had emerged on shore in past times, of the death and devastation they left behind.
An occasional sacrifice would prevent the destruction of entire towns. And providing those sacrifices would be my responsibility.
I could easily imagine which people I would sacrifice if it protected others. Especially my brother.
We clung to each other underwater for quite some time as she whispered words in my ear, enchanting me, making me into another one of her priestesses.
- The water is your blood and your life, sister, she told me. The water will always bring you back.
I did not want to leave her warm, comforting embrace; nobody in my life had ever held me so tenderly, and the feeling intoxicated me. But she finally kissed me one last long time before letting me loose, pushing me up towards the surface of the ocean.
My head broke through the water and I gasped. I had to shield my eyes for a moment even thought it was night out. The full moon seemed extremely bright after the darkness at the bottom of the ocean.
I didn’t want to leave that woman. I thought about attempting to dive back down and return to her. But I had made a promise to her, and I could not abandon Quentin.
It was because of my brother that I came back.
I swam for the shore, struggling a bit in my sodden dress, and as I got closer to the sand, I spotted one lone figure standing on the beach, close to the water’s edge: Simeon.
As he saw me emerge from the ocean, his eyes grew enormous in the brightness of the moon. He clutched his chest.
“Ada! Good heavens. I thought I had lost you.”
And would you have been unhappy about that? I wanted to ask.
And yet. I was in a highly unfamiliar state as I emerged from my embrace with the woman in the water, and as I looked at my husband, I began to recognize what I was feeling. I was aroused. For the first time in my life, I desired my husband.
I approached him and before he could speak again, I grasped him, pulled him close, and kissed him long and deeply, the way the woman in the water had kissed me. At the same time, I reached between his legs for the appendage that had once caused me such discomfort. I was determined to discover what it was about this act that so enraptured everyone else.
Simeon pushed me away and struck me hard across the face. I felt my lip split and bleed down my chin.
“Ada! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” But there was something in his look other than shock. I recognized some of the same expression I saw in his eyes whenever he stole glances at Emma Willis. It was lust.
I embraced him again, and this time, after a brief resistance, he kissed me back. When I broke the kiss, his face was smeared with my blood.
I pushed him hard enough to knock him over, and he laughed as he landed on his back and I straddled him.
I pushed my undergarments down and worked his engorged penis out of his trousers.
He gasped in arousal and also in surprise.
“Whatever happened to you in that water?” he said, looking around to be sure we were not observed.
“You would never believe it, husband.” And I guided him inside me and began moving against him. The sweet friction stirred warmth in my body. Pleasure like I had never felt before began radiating from inside me, and I moaned just as I had often heard him do.
“Ada,” he said, now with a slight note of concern in his voice. “You’re cold inside. Very cold.”
I wanted him to be quiet, to not break the spell as I moved my hips up and down and the heat generated from our lovemaking spread through my body. “I certainly don’t feel cold,” I said.
My pleasure built as the waves behind us broke against the shore. Simeon began to thrash beneath me. His bucking hips only increased the heat rising in me, until I could stand no more and let out cries of ecstasy, my head thrown back, the moonlight nearly blinding my eyes. I thought the deep shuddering contractions inside me would never stop, and I never wanted them to stop.
Finally, spent at last, I collapsed, rolling off him and stretching out on the wet sand.
“Is that why people find that act so exciting?” I asked, still panting slightly.
The alarmed shout next to me startled me out of my bliss. I glanced over to see Simeon sliding down the beach away from me.
Something pulled him, and as I looked more closely, I saw what was happening.
Long green arms that looked more like tentacles were tugging his legs, dragging him over the sand, pulling him towards the water. He kicked fruitlessly; whatever held him had a very tight grip. He grabbed at handfuls of sand, which of course did nothing to stop his fast slide into the ocean. His fingers left long furrows behind.
“Ada!” he screamed, reaching to me. “For the love of God! Do something.”
I sat up and watched with curiosity as the creatures pulled him into the water and down to where they lived and ate. Simeon Oliver disappeared under the waves after one last shout.
I suppose I should have been more upset to see my husband being dragged to his death. But as he vanished from my sight, I knew that our last pleasant interlude had done nothing to make me feel anything other than relief that Quentin and I would be free of his mistreatment at long last.
The Lords Below had needed a sacrifice. And without even trying, I had brought them their first one.
I stood up in the darkness and readjusted my clothing, brushing sand away from my wet dress.
And I returned to town a widow.
&n
bsp; Chapter Sixteen
MR. SHERMAN HAS HIS DOUBTS
Sorrow Hamilton
* * *
The noise from Cooper’s Tavern could be heard well before Balt and Sorrow reached the place, and more people headed inside as they approached. Before he returned to work, Balt turned and fixed Sorrow with an intense look.
“Miss Hamilton, I trust that you will do as I say? You and that fellow who’s with you must leave as soon as you can. No later than tomorrow morning.”
“If we can get a buggy from the stables,” Sorrow said, feeling tired and listless now. “I’d have been back in Baltimore well before now if we’d been permitted to go.”
Balt peered around the tavern door and scowled.
“Damn it all.”
“What is it?”
“Marshal Lewis is here.”
Sorrow looked around Balt’s shoulder and saw the portly man sitting by himself at a table that allowed him a good view of the tavern and the inn. He scanned the room in between sips from the pint of ale in front of him.
“Going to be hard for you to get out with him there,” Balt said, shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that’s why he’s here.”
“Tomorrow morning, then. First thing,” Sorrow replied. “He can’t sit there all night, can he?”
“That will have to do. I see Thomas from the stables here. I’ll talk to him about making sure you have transportation. Going to be trickier with Lewis lurking around, though.” He changed the subject. “Are you hungry, Miss Hamilton?”
Yes, she was, and desperately so; she felt lightheaded and ill and her stomach rumbled. And yet she could barely think of eating. And she certainly had no desire to sit down in the tavern with that odious marshal watching her every move.
“Perhaps I am, a little.”
“I can have something brought up to your room if you wish.”
That would help her avoid having to face the marshal, and everyone else. Especially Mrs. Oliver, if that horrible woman returned to the tavern tonight.
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper. I could do with a bit of that beef stew.” In truth, she didn’t look forward to more of the salty, watery slop, but she would do what she could to get some of it down.
Sorrow darted quickly past the inner entrance to the tavern, not wanting anyone to spot her. She noted with relief that Mrs. Oliver’s velvet armchair sat empty.
“Sally!” Charlie’s voice rang out over the others, and a silence descended over the room. Marshal Lewis’s head whipped around, and he stared at her as she stood frozen by the staircase.
Damn Charlie. Can he never keep his voice down?
Charlie hurried out of the tavern and caught her in the entry way.
“Sally! Where in heaven’s name have you been?” He clutched her hand as he repeated her hated nickname.
“Come upstairs with me. Right now.”
He frowned. “Where have you been, though?”
“I will tell you in my room. Not out here.”
She pulled her hand out of his and climbed the wooden staircase. Charlie’s heavy footsteps sounded behind hers.
She entered her room and nearly collapsed in the small, hard chair. Charlie leaned against the doorframe, looking at her in great confusion.
“What’s going on, old girl? You’re whiter than milk. And what’s the idea, heading out when we were supposed to be resting up? And where’d you go with Cooper?”
Sorrow realized that she barely knew where to start. Her exhaustion, her hunger, and Charlie’s rapid-fire questions all made her head spin.
“I wanted to speak to Mrs. Oliver again,” she said finally.
“What? You should have come to me first.” He looked reproachful. “You shouldn’t have gone alone.”
“You needed your rest.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I couldn’t make my mind stop turning. That awful lunch raised far more questions than it answered.” As had its aftermath.
“So, did you find her? What did she say?”
A memory of the dark, dank cellar with Lucy’s wet footsteps slopping towards her made Sorrow shut her eyes tightly against a sudden rush of terror.
“Oh, no. Sally. What happened?” Charlie leaned forward and placed a hand on Sorrow’s shoulder.
“She asked me if I truly wanted to know what happened to Hal. And when I said yes, she locked me in the cellar.”
“The hell did she do that for?”
Sorrow stared at the ceiling, willing the panic to recede.
“She’s got something down there. She calls it her ‘daughter,’ but it’s … it’s a monster. I couldn’t quite see it, but I could hear it and smell it. And it came for me.” Sorrow took another breath. “She fed Hal to that thing, Charlie. And she wanted to feed me to that thing, too.”
She could tell from Charlie’s puzzled hazel eyes that he had absolutely no idea how to respond to this.
“But you’re here now,” he said at last, as if he were talking to someone who had taken leave of her senses.
“Because Quentin was down there, and he chased the thing off and let me out of the storm door. And he told me. Hal’s dead.”
Sorrow took several deep breaths as Charlie digested that information.
“And that’s not all I learned today,” Sorrow said after a pause. “Balt Cooper showed me the truth of this place.”
“And what’s that?” She could tell from his voice and his expression that he was deeply skeptical of whatever she was about to say.
“Mrs. Oliver is the protector of this town.”
Charlie laughed at that.
“Now, Sally—”
“Don’t you ‘Now, Sally’ me! You weren’t there. The people Mrs. Oliver kills are sacrifices. There are creatures that live in the ocean, and if she doesn’t do these things, they’ll come out of the water and start slaughtering everyone.”
Charlie said nothing, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward as if he were about to laugh. As if he thought she was telling him some splendid joke.
“I can see that you don’t believe me,” she said, a chill to her tone. “Ask Mr. Cooper yourself. Ask him to show you the church.”
“Actually, I’d prefer not to go back there tonight, if it’s all the same, miss.” Balt came up behind Charlie, lugging a tray of the hated beef stew. “It’s a busy night down in the tavern, and Naomi might well have my head if I leave her alone here again. She could barely spare me long enough to bring you your dinner.”
“Tell Charlie what you told me, Mr. Cooper. About Mrs. Oliver, and why she does what she does.”
Balt set the tray down on the desk. Sorrow noticed a glass of amber liquid sitting next to the bowl of stew.
“The brandy is on the house, Miss Hamilton. Good for your nerves.” And then Balt turned to Charlie.
“I heard what the young lady told you, Mr. Sherman. And she’s right. You may think less of us for striking this particular deal, but we happen to believe that an occasional death is better than the complete destruction of our town and all its residents.”
Balt straightened up and looked Charlie directly in the eyes. “And I will advise you, as I advised Miss Hamilton, to get back to Baltimore first thing tomorrow morning, as soon as you rise. And after that, do your best to forget that Tidepool ever existed.”
Charlie shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, but Balt would not be interrupted. “Your friend is gone, Mr. Sherman. I’m terribly sorry about that, but you cannot help him; all you can do now is bring hell down onto yourselves and this place if you continue to meddle and threaten to bring in more outsiders. I assure you there is no interest whatsoever in your plans to improve this town.”
Charlie’s mouth dropped open.
“This is all madness. You know that, right? Creatures in the ocean? Sacrifices?”
“Go ask Mrs. Oliver about it,” Sorrow said, feeling defensive. “If you dare.”
“Oh my. I really wouldn’t advise
that, Mr. Sherman,” Balt said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be back downstairs.”
“Thank you for bringing something up, Mr. Cooper.”
“Of course. Leave the tray in the hallway when you’re finished; one of us will come collect it.” He looked back and forth between the two of them. “Get some rest for your journey tomorrow.”
Balt excused himself. Charlie watched him go and then stared back at Sorrow with wide eyes and a half-smile.
“And you believe all that? What exactly did he show you in that church?”
“Skeletons of creatures I’ve never seen. Monsters. Paintings of the massacre, depicting the creatures that came out of the water and murdered nearly the entire town.”
“Paintings?” And now Charlie laughed. “Because it was in a painting, it must be true?”
Sorrow’s ears grew hot. “You weren’t in Mrs. Oliver’s basement, Charlie. You weren’t there with that thing.”
“What was that thing, exactly?”
“I don’t know. I told you; it was dark.”
“If it was that dark, then how do you know it wasn’t a person playing around?”
“Because it hissed when Quentin spoke to it.”
“And a person couldn’t make that sound? Come now, Sally.”
Sorrow slammed her fist on the table hard enough to make the bowl of stew—and Charlie—jump.
“I don’t care if you believe me, Charlie Sherman. I believe Mr. Cooper, and I also believe that Mrs. Oliver did away with Hal. And I am leaving first thing tomorrow, as Mr. Cooper instructed. You are free to accompany me if you wish. If not, stay here and try your luck with the townspeople who resent and fear our presence.”
Charlie appeared to recognize that he’d upset Sorrow, but he couldn’t stop himself from talking. Sorrow recognized the smell of whiskey on his breath.
“Look, Sally—”
“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?”
“All right, then. Sorrow. You’re right. Those people don’t want us here. They don’t like outsiders. They make up crazy stories to frighten people away.”
“Well, I no longer want to be here, so I’d say there’s a very simple solution to our mutual problem: we do as they wish and get out of here.”
Tidepool Page 14