Wolfwater

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Wolfwater Page 5

by Alia Hess


  Sasha rubbed his sore arm. “Yeah. One time. Police caught me with… prostitute. She steal all my money and ran away, and I had to go to jail for night.” He swallowed, a foul taste in the back of his throat.

  “Prostitutes were illegal in Russia?”

  “Yes.”

  Corvin squinted. “Strange that you and Dusty are together, then, considering your bad memories.”

  Sasha wagged a finger at Corvin. “I paid money to Dusty to stop doing trades. I never paid her for sex. She have sex with me because she love me. And when me and her got together, she never do that stuff again.”

  Almost, anyway. She slipped up once. That horrible cowboy—what had his name been? He’d left bite marks and bruises on her. Sasha squeezed his eyes shut and balled his fists. Where is my baby? I need to see her, even if she is mad at me right now.

  He stood, veering around the rickety wooden table in the little room and stopping before the door. He turned and walked back to the window.

  “Now you’re pacing.” Corvin sat on the table and stuck a finger through the rip in the elbow of his shirt.

  “I’m ready to get out of here too. This place is not like Russian jail, but still scary because I don’t know what is going to happen.”

  The doorknob clicked and the hut door swung open. A large Islander—the guard—peered in. “Quietbird is here to talk to you.”

  Corvin groaned. “Thank God.” He slid into a chair and clasped his hands before him.

  Sasha sat next to him. “Other people here for us too?”

  “Yes. There’s a whole group.” The Islander disappeared through the entryway and Sasha smiled, staring anxiously at the door.

  3

  ~ Machinations ~

  Tam’s little rocky beach didn’t look much like a jail to Owl—or even a detainment area. Beyond the high fence, knit with rusty snarls of razor wire, the huts on the gray strand sat neglected. Although a now-unappealing housing design abandoned for something better, compared to the many derelict Old World houses of Mainland America—caved-in roofs and hole-ridden walls, ancient moldy carpeting and the stench of bird droppings—they were quite cozy and pleasant. Maybe Corvin and Sasha wouldn’t have it so bad, after all.

  Several guards stood by the gate, wooden clubs dangling at their waists. Others walked by the water’s edge as seaspray hit the swollen fence posts protruding from the surf.

  Owl squeezed Trav’s hand and followed him and her friends into the small, sagging hut, her pulse throbbing.

  Sasha and Corvin sat at an uneven wooden table, their faces colored with grime and worry. Dusty made a noise of hurt and threw her arms around Sasha. Her voice came out in a teary breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about that stupid fight yesterday. What happened?”

  “Some assholes drugged us.” Sasha pulled at Dusty’s arm, hooked around his throat.

  Owl breathed a sigh of relief. I knew they didn’t do it on purpose.

  Dusty slid into Sasha’s lap. Her eyes, wet and pained, were tilted to him in confusion. “Drugged you?”

  “Yeah. Me and Corvin met this guy who said he came to our wedding. He invite us to party with him and those guys put naal bark in our drinks.” He scowled. “I think they did on purpose, even after I tell them I do not drink and do not want to get in trouble. Guy kept calling me ‘trashbilly.’ Don’t remember very much that happen after that.”

  Dusty pouted and she squeezed Sasha tighter, burying her face in his neck. He gasped for breath. “I missed you so much, baby. But you got to let go little bit or you going to kill me.”

  She slackened her grip and pressed her forehead to Sasha’s chest, sniffling. He glanced at Owl. “Didn’t do it on purpose, I swear. We were trying to be good.”

  Dewbell approached the table, eyes burning. Corvin stood, bottom lip pulled up as he regarded her. She smacked his shoulder, mouth trembling, then did it again and again, slapping at him as he shirked away.

  He drew Dewbell into his arms. She resisted, trying to hit him again, then succumbed, sobbing into his chest. Corvin stroked her pale hair, pressing his nose to the top of her head. She looked up, face glistening with tears, and he signed, [I LOVE YOU]

  Her eyebrows pushed together and she signed the same back to him. He signed, [SORRY], then gestured for Dewbell to take the chair. Instead, she frowned and rubbed a smudge of dirt from his cheek.

  After Quietbird explained the situation, Sasha and Corvin’s dispositions growing more dim by the word, he concluded with, “Now we just need to figure out who’s going to go to the Mainland.”

  Corvin’s frightened eyes stared into Quietbird’s. “We just need to figure out who’s going to the Mainland? You make this sound like no big deal. I can’t go to prison! There has to be something you can do.” He gently pushed Dewbell aside with trembling hands. “I’ll give him all my money. All of it.”

  “He doesn’t want money. I tried that already,” Quietbird said.

  Owl sighed. What was the possibility they could make a daring jailbreak? Overpower the handful of guards and—and what? Make Corvin and Sasha fugitives? Make them move back to the Mainland?

  “But you won’t be going to prison,” Quietbird continued. “I’ve made an arrangement with him to keep you two safe. You’ll stay here and not be transfered. I mean, if people are going to stick their necks out to bring back his son, he has to uphold his end of the deal and make sure you guys are safe.” He rubbed his face. “I’ve done some things that people might consider unethical by Elder standards, but even trying to do that in this case isn’t going to work. I don’t have the authority here to get you released. This deal was the only thing I could persuade him to do.”

  “Yes. Safe. You do that.” Corvin nodded but didn’t look reassured. Owl reached across the table and squeezed his hand. His features relaxed a little and he sat back down, giving her a wide-eyed glance.

  Corvin had spent two years with the highwaymen, forced to live in a boxcar with other young men—or so Sasha had told her. Had it been worse than this place? Had he lain awake in the pitch black, wondering what horrors awaited him next?

  She didn’t know the specifics of his highwaymen experience, or what had really happened in this situation, but art supplies always calmed Corvin down, and he abhorred stains on his clothing.

  “What can I do to help you, brother?” she asked. “I could bring you a change of clothes and your sketchbook, maybe?”

  “Oh”—Corvin scratched at dried blood on his shirt sleeve—“yes, that would be wonderful. Sasha, you want some stuff from home?”

  Sasha stared at Dusty. “I want to go home.”

  Corvin’s face contorted. “Me too.”

  “I’m not sure outside items are allowed here,” Quietbird said.

  “But they don’t have anything at all. Even a normal jail has beds.” Owl gestured to the bare hut. “They can’t be expected to sleep on a wood floor in ripped clothes for months.”

  “Well, this place wasn’t intended for long term stay.”

  “Exactly why they need to have some things from home. C’mon, Quietbird. You can talk the guards into that, can’t you?”

  “I’ll see what—”

  “And where are the guys who did this? They should be here too! Shouldn’t Corvin and Sasha get a chance to explain what happened?”

  “I don’t think Palesun is concerned with the cause. Just the effect, unfortunately.”

  “That’s such bullshit!” There’s nothing I can do. She was as trapped as they were—stuck in a metaphorical hut on a beach just as rocky and cold. Just Owl, only able to do the things Owl could do.

  What can I do?

  There had to be something, other than just bringing them clothes and waiting around for everything to get better.

  Dusty said, “I’m going to go on the retrieval mission and get you guys out of here.”

  Owl glanced up. Dusty’s being proactive.

  Sasha’s lips parted. “Baby, no. No, no, no. This is ridiculous. There got
to be some other way. Please don’t leave me.”

  “I’m doing it for you,” Dusty said. “I don’t want to just sit around and do nothing when I could be helping.”

  “But you will be gone for long time.” He lowered his voice. “We have problems lately. What if you decide you don’t want me anymore?”

  “That’s not going to happen. I love you.”

  “But I’m going to miss you too much. And it might not be safe. What if something happen to you?”

  “I used to walk the roads all the time. And we traveled together for months and were fine.” She looked away. “For the most part. You know what I mean. And if Gentlewave and Trav are going—”

  Trav let out a breath. “Everyone assumes I’m going to go. I would really rather not. It’s not that I don’t love you guys—I do. But I hate the Mainland. Just the thought of looking at another rusty car or broken-down skyscraper makes me want to vomit. And I can do without any more racist Mainlanders calling me a ‘coconut.’ Besides”—he turned to Owl and caressed her cheek as she frowned at him—“I don’t want to leave my family.”

  Dusty folded her arms. “Nobody wants to go. I don’t want to leave Sasha either. And I’m sure Owl doesn’t want you to go, but someone’s gotta stand up and help these two. They’re our family.”

  Sasha gazed at Dusty. “I am too much screw-up. I can’t get things right at home, always leaving towel on bed—”

  “Forget about it. It’s not important.” Dusty whispered in his ear and he muttered something back.

  Owl stared at Trav, chest tightening, then turned to Sasha and Corvin. “I’ll do it.”

  “What? No,” Trav said.

  “Well, Dusty’s right. Someone’s gotta go and it should be some of us. No one else on Nis is going to care enough. We could pay someone to be an escort, but how do we know their heart will be in it? And how do we know they’ll get it done quickly? I don’t want to rely on strangers when my brother and friend’s lives are on the line.”

  Trav said, “I can’t let you go, Owl. What about our son? He can’t be without his mother.”

  “He’s Daddy’s little boy. He always goes to you when he needs something.” Owl scratched at a groove in the table’s grain.

  “He still loves you.”

  She shrugged. “He’d be devastated if you left. And I want to help. I’m sorry, darling.”

  Trav pushed up from the table in a huff, knocking back his chair. Owl flinched and hunched her shoulders. After glaring pointedly at Sasha, then at Corvin, Trav jerked open the hut door. It slammed behind him and rattled the walls.

  An uncomfortable silence permeated the room. Owl stared at the closed door, then slumped into her chair.

  Sasha put a hand to the back of Dusty’s head and kissed her deeply. He came up for air and glanced at them. “Sure you guys don’t want to see us kissing on each other, but if this is last time I’m going to see Dusty for while, we want to make it count.”

  Quietbird raised his eyebrows and walked to the window. “If Gentlewave is on board with you two, that’s three for the escort mission. I’m sure I can rustle up a fourth person if need be. I don’t know anything about escorting, or finding people, or how many people you need in a traveling party. But I will make sure you guys stay safe while we deal with this fiasco. This detainment area doesn’t seem too bad.”

  Sasha pulled his gaze from Dusty. “Hey, yeah. This is not like prison at all. It’s beach. Me and Corvin can hang out here and get tan, yeah?” He nudged Corvin. “Look at us. Been on Islands for year and still white and pasty. The ladies got nice tan going on. Maybe we’ll be hotter when this is all over.”

  Owl turned to the door. I wish I was as optimistic about this retrieval mission. I don’t want to be without Trav or Son of Owl, but Corvin and Sasha need me. Trav thought she didn’t miss the Mainland anymore—and she didn’t as much, especially not with all her family and friends here now—but taking a trip back there would be kind of nostalgic. It wouldn’t be the same without Trav by her side, though. Exploring abandoned places and growing closer by the day… Finding solace in each other as they traveled hot, buckled roads in search of some place they belonged…

  “I’m going to miss you so bad.” Sasha stroked Dusty’s face then glanced around the room. “You think me and Dusty can get little bit privacy so our kissing don’t make everybody sick?”

  “Yes. I’m ready to get out of this room.” Corvin turned to Quietbird. “Can I go out on the beach?”

  Quietbird nodded. “I might not have much authority on Tam, but I’m still an Elder. If that guard has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

  They filed out of the hut and Quietbird shut the door behind him, talking with the guard. Trav leaned against a palm tree with his arms folded. His hood was wrenched up over his head, protecting his pale skin from the sun.

  Dewbell took Corvin by the arm and led him onto the coarse sand, signing as she walked.

  Owl approached Trav with a knot in her throat. “I have to do this for them. They need me. I know you need me too, and our Muffin, but I just can’t leave them here—” Her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  Trav sighed and wrapped his arms around her. His calming scent of green riverbanks and sea salt surrounded her, and his feather-soft voice tickled her ear. “Tell me to go instead and I will.”

  In the first days after Trav had found her—injured in the desert from a fall down a hill—his disposition had been dour and defeatist. Three years of wandering the Mainland, subjected to spits and curses, had reinforced his status as an outcast with no place to truly call home. He’d cried when they finally reached the ocean, headed for Nis. She had cried from homesickness. All those rusty cars and broken-down skyscrapers her husband loathed were cozy relics of home.

  Her heart lurched, remembering grass overtaking ancient carpeting, dust motes dancing in hazy shafts of light, tiny shards of glass stretching across the hot asphalt like the sparkling sand of the Islands, and the jewel-green velvet flocking of the armchair in her and Corvin’s secret teenage hideout.

  “No. I want to go,” she said.

  Trav pulled back and frowned. “You sound excited. Is helping Corvin and Sasha really the reason you want to go?” His mouth twitched, eyes full of uncertainty. “You’re going to come back, right?”

  “Of course! I’m not excited to get away from you. I love you. But…” Owl looked away. “Sometimes I still get homesick.”

  “I thought you promised to tell me when that was bothering you. I don’t like it when you keep things bottled up inside.”

  “It hasn’t been bothering me that much. I love living here.”

  His eyes roamed her face. “I don’t know how to help when you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  Owl looked at her feet, pent-up feelings of inadequacy and unfulfilled desires welling in her chest. Everyone has bigger concerns than my feelings right now. “Nothing’s wrong. Do… do you think I need to stay here?”

  “I just can’t stand the idea of being away from you. But if you’re with other people—people that can protect you and Dusty, like Gentlewave—then I won’t worry too much.” He put a hand over his eyes. “Does it make me an ass that I’m not fighting to go instead of you?”

  “No. Corvin is my brother. And Sasha has always been more my friend than yours—”

  “Yeah, you were definitely more forgiving about his actions when we first met than I was. I feel guilty every time I see that scar on his eyebrow.”

  “He’s forgiven you for that. Anyway, it makes more sense for me to go than you.”

  Quietbird approached and gave them a hearty grin. “Okay. I’ve finagled some extra assurity that Corvin and Sasha will stay here permanently.” He shook his head. “Not permanently. That didn’t sound right. I mean that they’ll stay here on the beach and not be transported to Pearlolla prison. Palesun already promised me that, but I don’t trust that guy as far as I can throw him. But now the guards here know what’s
going on, and they won’t transfer Sasha and Corvin, even if they’re ordered to. That way we’ll know they’ll stay safe until their release.”

  Trav cocked an eyebrow. “How did you do that?”

  “Skill, cousin. Skill. And bribery.”

  “I know you’re willing to bend the rules and do things your own way, sometimes,” Owl said. “Why can’t you bribe the guards enough to ‘lose’ Corvin and Sasha?”

  “Owl!” Trav hissed.

  “Well, that’s better than going on some ridiculous trip to the Mainland, isn’t it? I mean, does Palesun ever come to Nis? How would he even know Corvin and Sasha were back home? The guards could tell Palesun they died or something.”

  Quietbird sighed and rubbed his face. “I’m glad you have so much confidence in my coercion abilities, but that would be a great way for me to lose my Elder status. I mean”—his cheeks flushed crimson—“I’ve already done things that would warrant that, but nothing so bold. One of those guards was already reluctant to take my money. If I tried to give them more to free Sasha and Corvin, there’s no way that guy would go for it. He’d notify Palesun immediately. We’ll just have to make the best of this.”

  Across the beach, the teal tide rolled away from shore. Shifty-eyed Islanders wandered along the sand, sat in tumbledown hut doorways, and kicked at rocks. Owl said, “Will they be safe, though? I know this isn’t a prison, but these people here did something to be detained. What if they’re dangerous?”

  “Bribery, Owl. The guards will keep an eye on them. Besides, I think most of the people here are detained for drunken shenanigans and petty theft, not murdering people. Tam’s not really known for its violence. The guards said they could have some things from home, but they’d have to approve them. And if people come and check up on them once a week, I’m sure it won’t seem so bad. A couple months will probably go by in no time.”

  Owl huffed. “I doubt that. And I can’t believe the people who did this aren’t locked up too.”

  “I think it’s going to be hard to prove what really happened, especially when Sasha and Corvin don’t remember.”

 

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