“A white cat?”
“Yeah, she would have needed a vet.”
The woman checked the computer. “I’m not seeing anything like that. You sure it was yesterday?”
“Definitely. It was about noon or so.”
She checked again. “Still not finding any drop offs yesterday matching that description. Go ahead and look through the cages.”
They passed through a door and into the cat area of the shelter. The long room smelled of air freshener and cat litter. They each looked through the cages, and then looked again. No Cinderella.
“Where is she?” asked Astrid, panic rising in her voice.
She stormed out of the cat area and into the front office. Elliot followed.
“Did she die?” she demanded at the front desk. “She was injured.”
“I didn’t see any record,” said the woman.
“Maybe she was never checked in correctly. Maybe they took her straight back to whatever medical area you have.”
“We have a vet tech here,” said the woman. “Let me get him.”
She left the two of them in the front reception area. Faded posters encouraging pet adoption and some watercolors of dogs and cats covered the walls. Astrid shifted her weight from foot to foot, her arms wrapped tight around her body. She adored that cat, and after Elliot had heard the story of the gray baby slaugh that Cinderella had killed, he knew Astrid would be a wreck if they didn’t find her.
A man came through the door. “I was here all day yesterday, and I didn’t see a cat like that. Are you sure it was surrendered at this pound?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I came in myself. My mom made me get rid of her. We stood right in this spot.”
“Who was here when you surrendered the animal?”
A split second before the man had said it, Elliot remembered hearing this before. But this time, something was different; he could anticipate the conversation a few words ahead.
“There was a man here who took her,” said Astrid. “He was tall and skinny and he had an Irish accent.”
The vet tech and woman exchanged a look.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have anyone who works here like that,” said the woman. “There are three of us who work the front desk.”
Elliot and Astrid double- and triple-checked the cat cages, and the woman at the desk called the county shelter. Cinderella was nowhere to be found.
Elliot put his arm around Astrid’s shoulder as she carried the kittens to the bus stop.
“We’ll take the train up to the county shelter tomorrow,” he said. “Their records must have gotten messed up. They won’t adopt her out or anything for at least a few weeks. They wait for someone to claim the animal first.”
“She won’t be there,” Astrid said. “She probably died and they just didn’t do her paperwork.”
“Cinderella was a tough cat. She might have survived.”
They sat on the bus bench and waited, watching the passing pedestrians and cars.
“Elliot, is that you?” Creepy Mick waved as he came toward them.
“Hey, Mick. You’re a little far from the beach, aren’t you?”
“I got word from the birdman.”
He didn’t want Mick to go on about the birdman or Vietnam or anything else right now.
“Where have you been staying?” Elliot asked.
“No, no. That doesn’t matter. I talked with the birdman again. He said that she was going to be okay.” Mick glanced at Astrid.
“She’s fine,” said Elliot. He didn’t want Mick bothering Astrid.
“Oh, good,” said Mick. “I heard there was a ruckus and she’d been hurt.”
The bus pulled up and Astrid climbed on board.
“I have to go,” Elliot said.
“Oh, sure,” said Mick. “I just heard she was bloodied up real bad. But I’m glad she’s all right.”
Chapter 27
It was close to sunset, and Yukiko leaned on the wooden railing, face into the cool ocean wind. She had to do this before it got dark, but she dreaded it. She had danced in Red Fawn’s show, collecting as much energy as she could, and now she was as powerful as she could hope to be.
Out in the distance swirled the dark water, the spot where a rock barely broke the surface and where there seemed to be some kind of large shadow. While she had stood at the pier earlier that day, she had seen something out there, just for an instant. It was a being she feared and needed, a creature that in some ways was more dangerous than Coyote, and one that was nearly impossible to bargain with. If the Seelie had entrusted her spirit ball to this creature, then she would go to it, no matter how much it terrified her.
She knew that the Seelie would not let her go willingly. She had heard tales of Kitsune being enslaved by the theft of their spirit ball, but she had never experienced it herself, nor had such a thing happened to anyone she had known. It was a thing that happened in old stories, not to real people. But here she was, at this vile borderland, a half-being.
She went down to the beach and walked under the pier, as far back against the land as she could. Then, she whispered an ancient prayer to Inari, asking for his strength, and to The Lady, requesting her protection. There was no answer. There never was.
Lowering herself into the sand, she changed into a fox. Her limbs felt lithe and quick, her teeth and jaws ready to snap. The wind ruffled her fur, and she felt every inch of the sensation, from the tip of her moist nose to the end of her tail.
She licked her muzzle and inhaled. The action of smelling was so much easier in this form, so much more natural. There was the ocean smell, the woody scent of the pier, the remaining smell of her human body clinging to the clothing that lay in a pile. No Seelie. And no spirit ball.
She trotted out into the water and jumped in, paddling out with a quick, steady rhythm of her paws. She was only an average swimmer, and now and then a wave slapped into her face. The salt water stung her eyes and nose, but she kept on.
If anyone had seen her, they would think she was a stray dog. It had happened many times before. So few people had ever seen a live fox, and never a snow white one. She wouldn’t use any of her power to disguise herself. As long as no Seelie saw her, she was safe.
She swam out past the pier and turned in the direction of the rock, keeping her muzzle high, moving slowly and steadily. The farther she went, the less turbulent the water was, but the more tempting she would be to the things that lived in the sea. She felt a few things, moving in the deep, but none were interested in her.
Swimming with the dead, she thought. The ocean was full of dead things and, worse, live things. There was always something down there, in the dark, waiting. And going into the water in her human form would attract them. Regular humans were usually safe, but a creature like her out of its natural form would be like a beacon in the dark to the things of the deep.
She scrambled up onto the slick rock and shook her dripping fur, sending droplets flying. She paused to catch her breath. The rock was cold and slippery, worn by centuries of waves and sand. She had not checked the tides, but even if the water rose, she would have enough time for her bargaining.
Then she sat back on her haunches, lifted her head and called out in a language older than the human languages. She did not know the name of the creature, naturally, but there was a word for all sentient ocean-dwellers, and she used that word.
The instant the word left her mouth, she felt the creature’s presence. It was far out in the water, and deep down, almost as far out as Santa Maria Island. She waited, sensing its approach. She breathed fast and hard, and not from exertion. The thing was coming, it was large, and it could kill a little animal like her so easily. One blow, and she would be a meal, or perhaps only a snack. She was out of her element, powerless, young and alone. She shivered as the wind whipped at
her body. It was coming, stirring from its place below, moving closer.
But she was Myobu. Her kind had stood before the thrones of emperors and at the altars of gods. Her kind did not run, and they did not cringe from other beings, no matter how terrible and powerful. She forced ears forward and her tail up and away from her body. She would not greet this creature like a frightened kit.
The creature did her a courtesy, by surfacing about ten yards away. It was black and smooth, a whale, or rather, it took the appearance of a black and white whale. It was diseased and rotted, and as it came closer, she saw the ripped black dorsal fin and smelled the stench of the creature. A dead whale. The thing was appearing as a dead orca whale. A killer whale, the Americans called it. Its face was closer now, huge under the water, and as it drew close, she saw that it was missing an eye. The socket was ragged, bloody and partially blackened with rot.
This was good. It was trying to frighten her by picking something from her past that she would fear. It had gained the knowledge when she had summoned it, but that was the price one paid when one summoned creatures from the deep. You saw them, and they saw you. It was never pleasant.
Yukiko did not back up as the great head of the dead whale surfaced. She gave a brief nod, an acknowledgement of meeting an equal. It turned to regard her with its good eye.
“Greetings deep-dweller,” Yukiko said. “May I speak with you?”
“Leave now, or you will die,” it said. Its mouth was filled with sharp, meat-ripping teeth and its tongue was like a giant pink ham. It could eat her in one bite.
“I surely will not die. Please now, let us not play games. I appeared to you in my true form. Would you not do me the same courtesy?”
“You must go.”
Yukiko sniffed now that the thing’s head was out of the water and close to her. Her spirit ball. She felt the sparkling honey scent of it. The creature had been in contact with it recently.
“Please, dark-swimmer. You are in possession of my spirit ball, and I would speak with you.”
“You will not take it.”
“I know. I could not force you to give it to me, even if I wished to. But if my guess is correct, you are not keeping it of your own free will. Neither of us is free.”
The eye moved but the whale did not speak.
“I can make an offer,” said Yukiko. “I will give you a year of my service, if at the end of that year you free me.”
The whale laughed, the sound of rocks rolling at the bottom of the sea, of waves moving deep in the dark.
“Little fox, I am under a contract that would not allow it.”
“How can one as old and strong as you are be imprisoned? I do not understand.”
“You should leave.”
“Please, Lady of the Sea, help me. For both of us are prisoners to the same masters.”
“We are.”
The whale changed then, and became a woman with a fish’s tail. But she looked nothing like the pretty mermaids from children’s books or the neon signs at the entrance to the boardwalk. This creature was dark-skinned, a woman of Africa before white men came and raped or took willing wives, lightening the skin of their descendants. Her curly hair hung in tight dripping coils as she climbed up beside Yukiko. Her tail was powerful and grayish black, with two short pointed fins on its length and a vertical scimitar of a tail, like a shark.
She seated herself beside Yukiko and curled her fearsome tail until she was completely out of the water. It was another little courtesy, this one merely symbolic. She was removing herself from her element, just as Yukiko was out of hers. Of course, the sea woman could simply leap back into the water, but Yukiko noticed the gesture and appreciated it.
This creature was old, even for her kind. Plenty of silver streaked the black of her hair and her breasts were flat and pendulous, her stomach soft, and the skin of her face had lost its firmness.
“I have never met one of your kind,” Yukiko said. “You are beautiful.” And she was. She was a centuries-old creature of the dark places where humans and Kitsune had never gone and never would. She was alien, and yet, they were sisters, of a sort.
“And I have never met one of yours, though I summered off the Japanese coast a few times in my youth.”
Yukiko thought then of the humans on the pier, and how any of them might see a mermaid woman and a white dog sitting on a rock in the water. The sun was almost gone, but there was enough light for someone to see. By nature, otherkind were reticent to be seen. Perhaps the sea woman was too old to care. Or perhaps, as a prisoner, she also had nothing to lose.
“You wonder why I come to you,” said the sea woman. “I come to tell you that now is not the time for your escape.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Seelie are cunning and the plan that you have fallen into has been in motion for a long time. The Seelie, unlike your kind or mine, have long-seers, and they heed what they say. They work in groups and have leaders. We are, perhaps, too individual, too independent. Too catlike.”
She smiled at Yukiko’s little huff of protest. The sea woman’s teeth were small and pointed.
“My advice to you, little fox, is to wait. Bide your time. Then use your trickery to escape.”
But she had no trickery. No plan. She felt nothing like her powerful ancestors.
“This is slavery,” Yukiko said. “It is monstrous.”
“Well, you are young yet. It is the way of humans and some otherkind to enslave. The last century saw the death of your emperor and your god. And the century before that saw the end of slavery on this continent. But that is only a small part of the grander picture.”
“You are enslaved also. How did the Seelie do it? And why can’t you get free?”
“I was captured fairly, though through trickery, of course. I am theirs for a century, no more. They will keep you for longer.”
“They’ll keep me forever.”
“Not necessarily. Your kind always get free. It may take a century or two.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
The woman shrugged, a strangely human gesture. “Time passes. We live on.”
“How did you come here? To California?”
“We are, both of us, far from home, are we not? I was brought unwillingly to the Caribbean, on a slave ship. I lived off the Western coast of Africa, moving up and down the land with the seasons, sending fish to the humans, who are, after all, my kin. I sent shells and smooth rocks for the children to find, and I enjoyed watching them. One day, I was on shore, as I can change and take human form, just as you can. I had gone inland, visiting with some of my grandson’s family.”
“Your grandson was human?”
“More or less. But yes, human. And the slavers who came were human. We were captured, some of us, taken to a ship, chained together in a fetid, stinking hold. Packed together so tightly that I could feel the people on either side of me breathing when they slept. Being out of contact with the sea, I could not change back or escape.
“The men who took us were doing business, nothing more. We were cargo to them. Those of us who tried to starve themselves were beaten. They would smash out a man’s teeth and force-feed him. If you tried to leap overboard, they would lash you. Then they would run a rope under the boat, tie it tightly about your waist, drag you under the boat from one side to the other. The wood and barnacles tore your skin and if you lived, you might even lose a limb.”
“Keel hauling,” said Yukiko.
“Yes, that is their word. I had … forgotten it. They beat us or raped us when they got bored. If someone became too ill and they thought he or she would die, they would toss the person overboard. Well, this was bad for the humans, but good for me. I did not have to feign sickness. The problem was, I wanted to be thrown overboard before I died, not after. There we
re others who were sick, and when I was tossed in with them, I found a young man. He had been beaten so badly that he was almost dead. By the time morning came, we were the only two left alive. I clung to him as they tossed us overboard. I changed, became strong. I decided to carry him to shore, wherever that was.
“I spoke with the intelligent creatures of the sea, asking where I was. It was in what you call the Caribbean Sea. I headed for land, keeping the young man’s head out of the water. Still, he died and I let him sink down into the water, where his bones lay even now.
“I lived in the Caribbean for a while, but my kind are restless. I swam south around the land, through the cooler water, up the coast, and found this place.”
“And now the Seelie own you.”
“No, they only own my services. And only for a time.”
“And one of those services is guarding my spirit ball.”
“That is correct.”
“Then take my offer of a year of service in exchange for it. I can help you get back to Africa or wherever you like. I can get you human money, and you can give it to your descendants.”
“Those things do not interest me, little one. And even if they did, I cannot give it to you. Not because I am unwilling, but because I am unable.”
“Please, sea-spirit. Please, give it to me. Or tell me how I can find it or steal it. Do you keep it under water somewhere? On this side or the sidhe side? Please.” She was desperate now. She could not swim down and fight the sea woman for it. If it could not be bargained for, she was without hope.
“Bide your time. I have heard your cries coming through your spirit ball. I know your suffering. But you must wait. Once events have played out, it may be your time.”
“I can’t just wait! By the time they’re done with me, they’ll have had me kill and perform atrocities.”
“Your god is dead, there is no accounting for your deeds anymore.”
“But there is! And if you help the Seelie, you are aiding in slavery and cruelty.”
The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series) Page 73