“Tell your friends and family in Baltimore that your brother was last spotted in Ocean City and that Mr. Sherman pursued him there. Do not send anyone else here. No more developers. No more detectives. Leave Tidepool alone. Do whatever you must to convince everyone else in Baltimore that this town simply does not exist.”
She makes it sound so simple, Sorrow thought.
“Mrs. Oliver, all I have wanted to do since I arrived in this town was leave it and forget I was ever here. But even if I could persuade my father and the Shermans that Henry and Charlie were off somewhere in Ocean City, how do I explain the dead detective? You must know that Detective Burnett is very unlikely to leave you be after his partner’s death. And he’s furious. He’s already laid your marshal out.”
Perhaps Ada’s eyes widened for just a second at that news.
“Detective Burnett is not your responsibility, Miss Hamilton. I will deal with him separately. Will you accept this last chance I am giving you? Will you leave Tidepool in peace?”
Sorrow’s emotions roiled as the cold breeze grew stronger around her and she regarded the widow’s pale, emotionless face. Could she really just walk away and leave her brother and Charlie unavenged?
Father. He would have enough difficulty dealing with Henry’s loss. Even if they had never had a loving relationship, Sorrow was all he had left now. If she stood her ground here and refused to leave, she knew she would never get home to him again.
And the thought of the brutality that might follow if she chose to remain here and finish off Ada Oliver…
Sorrow had seen enough violence. Enough death.
Enough.
“Sally.” Sorrow jumped, thinking she had heard Henry’s voice. And then she realized that Quentin, who had been silent during this exchange, was speaking. “She won’t give you another chance. You should go.”
Sorrow regarded Ada for another moment. And then she lowered the gun.
“You will never see me again, Mrs. Oliver.”
She didn’t turn away just yet; she wasn’t sure she entirely trusted the woman not to attempt revenge now that Sorrow had dropped her guard.
But the woman only inclined her head, her dark eyes somewhat less forbidding than they had been. “I am relieved to hear that, Miss Hamilton. As I’m sure your father will be when you return to him.”
Quentin took Sorrow’s elbow and began to steer her away from the beach. But as they walked away, heavy footsteps shook the boardwalk behind them and Sorrow whirled around to see Detective Burnett charging onto the beach from the direction of the marshals’ office.
Burnett shouted “You!” at Ada.
He had his gun out.
“Detective! No!” Sorrow shouted.
Ada opened her mouth. Before she could speak, Burnett fired. The shot echoed across the beach like thunder.
A hole appeared in Ada’s forehead. Burnett fired again, and a second wound shattered the bridge of the woman’s nose as her legs buckled and she collapsed onto the wet, shining sand.
But Sorrow did not miss the expression that flashed in Ada Oliver’s eyes as she fell: Fear. At long last, that woman looked truly afraid.
And that frightened Sorrow more than any of the horrific things she had seen in Tidepool.
Sorrow was about to shout at Burnett when Quentin let out a deep, harsh gasp beside her. When she looked at him, Quentin’s face had gone chalk white. His dark eyes were enormous as he stared at Sorrow.
“Oh,” he said. And then he too dropped to the ground.
Sorrow cried out and fell to her knees, leaning over him, a hand on his shoulder.
“Quentin? Quentin!”
And then she remembered: if Ada died, so did Quentin. And from the looks of what had just happened, Ada Oliver was quite dead.
Sorrow lifted Quentin’s hand—which felt heavy and weighted and limp—and held it tightly. She pressed fingers into his neck but felt no pulse beating there.
“Thank you for helping me. I’m so, so sorry,” she murmured, knowing that if he could hear her, his response would likely be “Why? You didn’t do anything.”
And after all, Quentin had wanted to die for a very long time. And now he was free. His face looked peaceful and untroubled at last as he lay still on the boardwalk, and yet her heart ached at the sight of yet another dead friend.
“But what happens now?” she whispered, as if he could reply.
She sensed movement behind her and looked to see Burnett dragging Ada’s body into the surf. The woman’s black hair obscured her face as he hauled her into the water. Sorrow swallowed hard as Burnett released the corpse to the waves. Ada’s body sank beneath the foamy water almost immediately.
Burnett emerged from the ocean and approached her, his face clenched as tightly as a fist, his trousers sopping. Sorrow thought of snatching up the gun that sat by her on the boardwalk; she felt certain that Burnett had now taken leave of whatever senses he once possessed.
“You never saw any of this, Miss Hamilton. Do you understand me?”
Fearing that Burnett would shoot her if she said anything other than “Yes,” Sorrow nodded.
“I went to that woman’s house and looked in the basement.” Burnett shook his head. “There were human bones all over the floor. Bones and old bloodstains. I’d thought you were quite mad to call her a murderess, but I’m afraid you were right. I’d have never believed a lady could do such things.”
Sorrow took no pleasure in finally being believed. She simply stared back at him.
“What’s happened here, then?” Burnett asked.
She shook her head. “He just fell to the ground after Mrs. Oliver died.”
Burnett frowned. He strode up the boardwalk to them, bent down, and felt around Quentin’s neck for a pulse. Sorrow fought an impulse to slap the man’s rough hand away from Quentin’s skin.
“Well. How about that? Shock too much for him?”
She wouldn’t meet his eye. “I suppose. He was Mrs. Oliver’s brother.”
“Ah.” Burnett looked as if he were about to say more, but something else on the ground caught his attention.
“What are you doing with that, Miss Hamilton?” Burnett pointed at the gun, which still lay on the boardwalk.
“I…I thought I might need it.”
Sorrow felt once again as if her head was beginning to float above this entire ghastly scene. Perhaps her sanity had abandoned her too.
“Give that here. Girl like you will blow her foot off with that thing.”
Sorrow wondered what would happen if she shot Burnett, and decided that she’d seen—and perpetrated—enough violence that morning to last her a lifetime. She handed the pistol to Burnett. He placed it in a pocket.
“All right then. I’ve got a few things to settle up here, and then we can get the hell out of this place.”
Sorrow felt numb as she knelt by Quentin’s body, still clutching his hand. She glanced back at the ocean, but Ada Oliver’s corpse was nowhere in sight. More rays of sunshine broke through the clouds, and the cool sea breeze blew over her. The weather still seemed improbably normal given all the horror that had just happened here.
And all the horror that was about to happen here, if what she had been told about Ada Oliver’s death proved to be true. She shivered, not just from the chill of her still-damp dress in the cool autumn air.
She knew she should get up and go for the stables, but at that moment, after everything she had seen that morning, she felt defeated and exhausted. She was completely alone in this town, sitting by the body of the last friend she had here.
But her mind still raced. Everyone said that if Ada died, this town would be in serious trouble. When does the trouble start? How much time do I have to get out of here?
Although Sorrow could not sense any signs of impending destruction, the beach had gone oddly silent. No gulls cried out. She turned to look at the ocean. Even the water that had just claimed Ada Oliver’s body seemed quiet. Almost too still.
And then Quentin let out an
other harsh gasp, and Sorrow nearly fell backwards as he sat upright, his head whipping around, his eyes wide as they focused on her.
“Sally! Why are you still here?”
“Quentin? How… I thought you were dead.”
Quentin stared at her, his dark eyes standing out in a face stark white with terror. “Someone put her in the water. Didn’t they?”
Sorrow could scarcely make her mouth work properly. “Detective Burnett dragged her body into the ocean.”
“Why did he do that? The things in the water will bring her back!”
“Quentin, that’s not possible. She’s dead. I saw her die.”
“She’s coming back, Sally. If I’m back, then so is she. But it doesn’t matter now: the pact has been broken. She can’t protect Tidepool anymore. The Lords will rise, and soon. Go. Now.”
He jumped up, seized Sorrow’s arms, and hauled her to her feet.
“Run. Don’t stop running until you’re away from here!”
“But Quentin—”
“Go!” he roared, pushing her towards the street.
And then a long, loud, unearthly bellow sounded from somewhere in the ocean and echoed through the town.
Sorrow knew she could forever after sit with pencil and paper trying to write words that would capture what that bellow sounded like, and she would always fail. The sound vibrated through everything—the air, her bones, the sand under her feet. It sounded as if the ocean itself were raging at Tidepool.
And the water, which had looked reasonably calm just seconds before, began to churn.
Waves grew higher and rolled into the shore, faster and faster, and the gulls flew away, shrieking. The wind whipped up on the beach and sand blew in the air, stinging Sorrow’s skin. She threw an arm up to protect her injured face. The faint rays of sun vanished as heavy black clouds massed along the shoreline.
And Sorrow finally believed Quentin.
After one last look at the terrified young man, she ran. As she reached Water Street she saw some townspeople leaping on horses and tearing up the hill towards the road out of this damned town.
Sorrow’s legs ached and her lungs burned as she ran up the hill for the stables. She passed the Oliver household, and she tried to avoid looking at the bloody stains all over the street outside that dark, dreadful place.
And then another unearthly bellow sounded from the seas, louder and perhaps closer this time.
As the stables came into sight, Sorrow heard a most unwelcome voice.
“Miss Hamilton! Wait!”
Somewhere behind her, Burnett called her name. Sorrow had no intention of stopping as she neared the stables. Several other residents were headed that way, and she was terrified there might be no horses left if she delayed.
But the detective caught up to her.
“What the holy hell is happening here?” Burnett asked, grabbing her arm with an iron grip and panting.
“Get off me! And run, you idiot!”
“Why? What are we running from?”
She tried to shake him off, but he was insistent. His hand clamped around her forearm and he remained as rooted to the ground as an old oak. She couldn’t twist away from him.
“Miss Hamilton, I will not leave this town without you. And I demand to know what’s going on.”
“Mrs. Oliver was protecting this town, Detective Burnett. You killed her and broke the protection. We need to get out of here.”
“The hell are you talking about? Protecting them from what?”
“From the things in the water! Can’t you hear those sounds? They’re coming.”
Burnett threw back his head and laughed.
“Bushwah! Surely you don’t believe that, Miss Hamilton. That’s nothing more than a whale.”
She was going to die here with Detective Burnett if he did not release her, and he clearly had no intention of letting her go. His volatile nature frightened her nearly as much as Ada Oliver’s chilly demeanor always had.
One more bellow sounded from the ocean, unquestionably louder and closer yet, and as the ground trembled under her feet, Sorrow made up her mind.
She reached up to her hat and yanked out her mother’s hatpin. Before she could rethink the idea, she stabbed the pin into the meat of Detective Burnett’s upper arm.
Burnett screamed, a mix of pain and outrage, and let her go at last.
“Miss Hamilton! What the hell was that?”
“We’re out of time, Detective Burnett. The Lords are rising.”
She didn’t bother taking the hatpin back; she hoped Mother would understand. She ran until she reached the stables.
Nobody was around to request payment or prevent her departure. A buggy sat up front with a horse hitched to it and tethered to a post; this had to be the buggy the detectives had taken here.
The black horse was horribly skittish from all the commotion and likely from the sound of the bellowing drawing ever nearer to Tidepool. It snorted, pawed the ground with a hoof, and tossed its tail. She rubbed the horse’s velvety nose and tried desperately to soothe it, murmuring softly in its ear.
“Please. Please calm down.”
Knowing she didn’t dare delay any longer, she untethered the still-frightened horse from its post in the stable and climbed into the buggy. The horse pawed the ground and pranced, and she prayed she wouldn’t end this adventure by being thrown to her death as she maneuvered the frightened creature out of the stables.
The horse needed very little urging to gallop out of the town and down the road occupied with other fleeing townspeople. It soon pulled ahead of all the others.
Tears blurred Sorrow’s eyes and burned the slash across her face, and she sobbed aloud as her buggy tore down the road and away from that hellish town.
She had done it. She had escaped Tidepool at last.
The fact gave her no joy at all.
She couldn’t stop thinking of the devastating things she had seen there: Charlie’s blond hair matted with blood as he lay dead. Detective Warner’s eviscerated corpse in Ada Oliver’s parlor. Lucy tearing chunks of flesh from Charlie’s neck and shoulder. The mutilated fisherman on the shore. She urged the horse on even faster, as if it could help her to outrun her own mind.
And then a sign up ahead nearly made her halt the buggy. It was a sign for Ocean City.
Ocean.
No. She never wanted to see the ocean again. She’d never be able to look at a body of water without wondering what things might be lurking in the deep, waiting to emerge. To feast.
But where to go, then? Straight home?
Her home was on a river.
As Sorrow Hamilton realized that she had nowhere to go where she would ever feel truly safe, she began to laugh. It was a mirthless laugh that racked her chest much like a sob would as it escaped her body. Her laughter grew louder and shriller, until anyone who had been around to hear it would have been unable to distinguish it from screaming.
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE RECKONING
Tidepool
* * *
There were those in Tidepool who had never believed Mrs. Oliver when she spoke to them of the creatures that lived in the water, the things that would emerge from the deep and feast on the people of Tidepool if they were not appeased. Of course they had been shown the skeletons in the church. And they had heard the gruesome stories passed down by older Tidepool residents. But being several generations removed from those who had endured the constant attacks, and having never witnessed such ghastly events themselves, they didn’t believe what the others told them. They didn’t believe in the monsters in the sea. They didn’t believe Mrs. Oliver was really killing people.
But these residents wished to remain in the town they had known all their lives, and so they accepted Mrs. Oliver’s terms for staying in Tidepool and chuckled to each other about the madwoman on the hill when she was safely out of earshot. They considered the bones and the stories mere legends. A bit of showmanship. Nothing to be taken seriously.
When those people heard the bellowing from the ocean, they thought perhaps some unusual kind of marine life had drifted too close to the shore. They watched as some of their friends and neighbors fled the town, and they shook their heads at the silliness of it all.
Some of the bolder townspeople actually went down to the beach. They were curious about what sort of creature could produce such an alarming sound, and they wondered why the water suddenly looked so rough. The ocean churned up white tide as the waves came in taller and faster. Heavy dark clouds obscured the sun, and the air grew cold. The townspeople stood on the beach, pointing out the odd conditions to each other, shrugging. Some sort of storm was blowing in, perhaps. Something worse than what they usually experienced in Tidepool. They held their hands up to protect their eyes from the sand being whipped into the air, but they did not leave.
Those people were foolish.
The first creatures to emerge from the water slithered out of the surf on their bellies; they could breathe above the water but still looked to be far more fish than human.
“Jesus! The hell is that thing?” Al Swenson pointed at one of the great slithering creatures as they all broke the surface of the water and moved up the shining wet sand, leaving long flattened trails behind them.
When one of the monsters crawled up to Al Swenson, knocked him to the ground, and tore his head from his neck with its powerful jaws, the bystanders realized they should start running. But by then, they had waited far too long.
The first wave of creatures moved quickly and relentlessly once they were used to being on land, and they caught the rest of the gawkers on the beach quite easily. Screams rang out as the creatures tore the human inhabitants of Tidepool apart, ripping chunks of flesh from bodies and drinking the torrents of blood that spilled.
The dead fish smell that had always disgusted Sorrow Hamilton became mixed with the odors of the insides of the human body as the first victims were torn to pieces.
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