Mermaid Spring (Mermaid Series Book 2)

by Dan Glover

  "Oh sweet Lauren, of course I will. Come to think of it, Nate spends a great deal of time with Kirk lately. In the past Nate never spoke to that man at all. He rarely acknowledged Kirk was even alive. Now I notice them together each night sitting by a fire down by the seaside. I thought, well this is a good thing. Kirk is finally becoming a man of stature. But what if the reverse is occurring... what if... no, I don’t want to think about that. It is too horrible to consider."

  "Let us go to see Dr. Karen this instant. Perhaps all our fears are rooted in nonsense. She will know more than we about matters such as this."

  Though the day wasn’t chilly and the rain warm, an involuntary shiver ran up Lauren's spine. Taking Natalia's hand in hers lent her more strength than she was willing to admit even to herself. As always, they found the doctor in her workshop behind the castle toiling over bubbling caldrons like a witch conjuring spells.

  "I expected this."

  Karen's words caught Lauren off guard. Nate was as much her child as Natalia's. Even now that Kāne had returned to her, she was drawn more to Nate. It was as if the years apart had erased or perhaps rearranged the love she felt for the man who was once Bilbla.

  She felt a surge of anger well up from her lower stomach. What right did this woman, this human, have to keep something as perilous as this a secret from them all? Had she not exercised her will in full and if Natalia did not still hold her hand she might well have reached out and strangled Karen on the spot.

  "You knew something like this might happen and yet you didn’t say anything?"

  "That came out wrong. I didn’t know Nate would develop dementia, Lady Lauren. I feared it. I noticed a trend in my batch of experimental mice I used to test the procedure I used. But there is no telling if what applies to mice might also apply to Nate."

  "Is there a treatment?"

  "Yes there is. I've been fortunate in crafting stem cells which seem to arrest the development of the disease, at least in mice. I'd like to start treatment immediately. Though we might be able to stop the dementia I am not so sure if the damage can be repaired."

  "Are we even sure our precious Nate is suffering from this dread disease? Isn't a test necessary to confirm our suspicions, lovely Karen?"

  "Unfortunately, there are no tests for dementia, Lady Natalia. From the descriptions you and Lady Lauren supply, I'm guessing he is suffering from some sort of cognitive dysfunction. If he is willing, I have a battery of tests I'd like to put him through to help nail down a more definitive diagnosis. Has anyone spoken to Nate about these concerns?"

  "No, we have yet to talk to him, precious Karen. We believe we should bring our worries to you first. We hope you will dissuade us from further pursuing these matters by assuring us we are mistaken."

  "We may well all be wrong. I would hesitate to make any sort of analysis without at least interviewing Nate and perhaps doing a few rudimentary tests such as his reflex arc and stimulus reaction time."

  "Could you perform these tests without his knowledge, sweet Karen? Our son is proud to the point of arrogance. He may be recalcitrant in admitting to what he perceives as a weakness."

  "Why, yes, I suppose I could, Lady Natalia. What about the Dance? It's coming up in a couple days. Please make sure he attends and I will be there too. I can learn much by observing his activities and perhaps by engaging him in discussion and a dance."

  "We'll speak to our lovely Lily about this. I am sure she'll entice him into attending. Thank you, darling Karen."

  Chapter 24—Repatriation

  Kirk did not understand why he was being asked these questions.

  It almost felt like an interrogation, like the time he had broken into the drug store when he was a kid and been caught on camera doing it. The Ladies Lily and Lauren reminded him of the police sergeants taking turns pelting him with queries about how he spent his time, what did, and if he was alone or not.

  He couldn't help but wonder if the Ladies were envious. He knew they considered him as something less than an animal... indeed, from the talk among the People he understood how the Ladies felt about all human beings, that they would be better off without them.

  If he had been the man he grew into instead of the boy he was, he seriously doubted if they would have let him or any of them stay that long ago day when the rest of humanity passed away. At the time he was so sick it didn’t matter if he lived or died... dying would have been preferable to living like that.

  He had changed over the last one hundred years, however. Though he didn’t pretend to understand why or how he had developed into a person of principle, he only knew that he had.

  Nate trusted him. That in itself was a source of great pride to Kirk. Fifty years ago that would not have been the case... even twenty years ago. Though he didn’t care to admit it, the longer he stayed with those of the Lake, the better he became not only as a man but as a vital and respected member of the community.

  Not that he had any real friends besides Nate... still, when anyone needed something, they seemed to think nothing of approaching him and asking for his help. Kirk had never learned the nuances of social interactions and though the stuttering had stopped some sixty years ago he still feared a relapse so he spoke seldom.

  "I've never met anyone like you, Kirk. Most of the girls prattle on about whatever comes into their minds. But you're so quiet. You actually listen to me."

  "What was that, Delilah?"

  The girl burst out laughing the way she was prone to do whenever they were together. He enjoyed being able to add some mirth to her life. Though he always thought how she was a pretty little thing, when she laughed she was simply drop dead gorgeous.

  Kirk's first experience with women had been watching his father beat his mother half to death every weekend when they got drunk and berated each other over nothing they could ever remember the following mornings. He remembered stepping in between the two of them once... he must have been all of eight years old and for some reason he thought he could put an end to what he perceived as his mother's misery.

  It wasn’t his father that knocked him out with a well aimed frying pan to the side of the head... it was his mother. When he came to his senses three days later he had learned a valuable lesson about messing in the affairs of the heart, one that he never forgot. When Drummond began raping any girl he took a notion to have, Kirk had turned a blind eye, mainly on account of his mother's actions that long ago day.

  Women were a mystery to him. They complained about being treated badly and yet at the same time they seemed to seek out the worst possible individuals to fool around with. It was no different with Marilyn. During his relationship with Marilyn he never loved her, not the way he did Delilah.

  Marilyn wanted to change him into her vision of a perfect man but Delilah seemed content with him just being Kirk and he liked that about her. She listened to him without interrupting to tell him how stupid he was. He knew he wasn’t a smart man... there was something wrong with his brain, probably from the way his loving mother had stayed drunk all during her pregnancy with him, or so she told him.

  He has seen the words written on the cover of the school report that lay in front of the principal the day he'd been sent to his office for another one of his miscellaneous and foul deeds: most likely suffers from fetal alcohol syndrome. It wasn’t the shock it should have been, perhaps, but still it startled him to see the words in black and white.

  Most people took him as an idiot but he could read and write as well as anyone. Speaking was the challenge. He had taught himself to read and to write as a small boy even before he had set foot in a school. He had no one to play with while growing up in that hateful little village of Kurgan so he spent his days looking at ragged magazines and newspapers that lay scattered haphazardly about the house.

  The pictures drew him in at first but then he noticed the markings marring the pages, like an unknown language just waiting for some intrepid soul to decipher. One morning before he began his daily ritual of getting roari
ng drunk, his skunk of a father must have seen a humorous article in the newspaper he was reading and so he read it out loud to Kirk's prostitute of a mother.

  That was the day he realized that the words on the paper corresponded to the sounds people made while talking. It was a stunning revelation, one that excited his imagination and inspired him to learn more about the magic of words.

  Of course his lump of a father noticed him peering at an old newspaper and promptly knocked Kirk across the room for no other reason than meanness. If he felt his scalp just behind his right ear he could still feel a tiny lump there although over the passing decades it had grown smaller and perhaps would one day fade away all together. He rather hoped it didn’t because it reminded him of who he used to be: a worthless piece of trash.

  He didn’t understand why his friendship with Nate had suddenly blossomed but neither did he think there was a problem with it. No, he hadn’t noticed anything strange about Nate. Of course Delilah came along with them when they sat by the fire talking deep into the night. He couldn't remember what they talked about, exactly... all manner of things, he supposed.

  "We want to take you into our confidence, Mr. Kirk. Can we speak freely here without fear of our words being repeated?"

  "Sure, Lady Lily... I'll not say a word to anyone if that's what you wish."

  "We are worried about our precious Nate. We all see changes in his mannerisms of late that portend an illness. We are not attempting to undermine any friendship you are cultivating with him, believe me. We merely wish to alleviate our concerns."

  Suddenly that thing in his head snapped: that thing which caused him confusion and made him stutter. He no longer saw malignant faces seeking to dethrone his place beside Nate, but rather loving and caring worries staining the eyes of the Ladies.

  "What sort of illness does Mr. Nate have, Lady Lily?"

  "That's what we hope to determine by asking you these questions. We suspect he is suffering a kind of early dementia but that is only a broad term used to denote a whole range of impaired cognition diseases. Maybe you remember the term Alzheimer's from before the Great Dying. I'm told many older human beings were afflicted with such diseases."

  "He forgets things."

  It dawned on Kirk that he too had wondered about Nate and his extreme lack of memory. He put it off to how busy the man was what with all the inventions he was working on and the ship he sailed and the planes he flew. Still, there were the inevitable frustrations of missed appointments and when he reminded his friend how they were supposed to go fishing today or to sail over to old Europe, Nate looked at him uncomprehendingly as if he had no idea what Kirk was talking about.

  "Yes, we've noticed that too, and it is one of the first symptoms to arise pertaining to dementia. I used to get angry with him when he'd forget we were supposed to do something together but then it occurred to me how this started to happen all at once. Now I feel guilty for having not seen this as an illness instead of a lack of caring on our darling Nate's part."

  "You shouldn’t feel like that, Lady Lily. It is as much my fault for not saying something instead of waiting. I knew something was wrong with Nate. But it felt good to have him as a friend. I told myself that it was me who changed, not him. I'm sorry, Lady Lily."

  "All is forgiven, Kirk. Thank you for your help today."

  Leaving the conclave, Kirk egressed the castle to meander down the old path to the creek where he used to go with Drummond to torment Nate. Surprised to find the path was still here he imagined the younger girls of the People might go to the old swimming hole even to this day. He found himself at the wide spot where a dam of stones held back the creek creating a luscious pool of water.

  He felt ashamed of the time he stood right in this same spot keeping watch while Drummond dragged Nate's girlfriend Lucy into the weeds. From the sound of things she kicked and screamed and scratched like a wildcat but Drummond had his way with her anyhow. When he finished he walked out of the thicket to ask Kirk if he wanted a turn. He put his eyes down as he shook his head no.

  "You better not tell anyone what happened here today or I'll pound you."

  Drummond was bigger and meaner than Kirk. He remembered being bullied by the boy in school too the few times he went. He wanted to stand up for Nate and for little Lucy but having Drummond as a friend outweighed all that. It made him feel important. He told himself that Drummond wasn’t just using him, that they really were best friends.

  He drank and smoked a lot back then. The alcohol provided both a bond with Drummond and a way to sleep at night when the horror of what he witnessed during the day came rushing back.

  They were both drunk when they came upon Nate and Lucy swimming in the creek. Drummond started throwing rocks at the boy. At first it seemed as if he was just fooling around but soon Drummond began taking deadly aim at Nate's head. When the kid disappeared beneath the surface Kirk wasn’t sure if he was just getting away from the stoning or if he was hit and injured.

  Lucy began berating Drummond telling him to stop it. All that did was infuriate him. Drummond had an evil sparkle in his eyes as he reached for Lucy to pull her from the creek. Kirk knew what was going to happen next. At least he thought he knew. Lucy eluded Drummond's grasp as he began taking his clothes off to jump in after her.

  A shadow appeared out of the corner of his eye. Kirk wasn’t sure exactly what happened next but suddenly Drummond was down on the ground in obvious pain. Nate was holding a large piece of driftwood. When Drummond cursed and attempted to rise, Nate swung the club striking him in the midsection, sending him falling backward onto the ground once again.

  Kirk was dumbfounded. He had never witnessed anyone stand up to Drummond, much less getting the better of him. Drummond was a full grown man and Nate was but four or five years old at the time.

  As Nate wheeled around and swung the club down onto Drummond's chest one more time, Kirk saw a vision of the Archangel Michael trampling the dragon into submission. A rancid odor permeated the cool creek air. Drummond had soiled his pants.

  His eyes wide and like a slow-motion replay, Kirk saw the club coming his way. He instinctively ducked and ran the way he used to do when the old man got drunk and came after him for some perceived slight. Of course his father was always drunk and it didn’t take much to set him off. On that day beside the creek he silently thanked the bastard for inadvertently preparing him for that moment.

  Unscathed, he ran until he had to stop and vomit up the whiskey he'd been drinking all morning with Drummond. Nothing was ever said about the beating Nate inflicted upon Drummond but from that day on, Kirk no longer hung out with the bully. The spell was broken.

  For decades Kirk wondered how to get into Nate's good graces. As the boy grew into a tall and splendid man he had nothing to do with Kirk until the day Marilyn convinced him to help her overthrow the Ladies. When the coup failed and Kirk went on trial before the tribunal made up of the Ladies, Nate, Ginger, and Amanda, he feared the worst. But Nate's vote allowed him to stay.

  To this day Ginger never forgave him. When someone told her of his dalliance with Delilah she flew into a rage, confronting him after one of the Dances informing him in no uncertain terms how she would take immense pleasure in disenthralling his intestines should he do any harm whatsoever to the girl. Her rage disconcerted him for weeks afterwards.

  After his counsel with the Ladies concerning Nate's well being, the dreams returned.

  In some it was his father chasing him; in others Drummond was pulling him into the bushes beside the creek and when he opened his mouth to scream only a frog's croak emerged from his paralyzed throat. Instead of Ginger tumbling down those horrid stone dungeon steps one at a time it was him. He heard bones crack and waking in a sweat he found himself checking his arms and legs for fractures.

  "I vote we forgive him."

  Between Nate, Natalia, and Ladies Lauren and Lily, Kirk was allowed to stay among the People rather than being forced into exile and certain death. The fact that
the women forgave him did not surprise him as much as Nate doing so.

  "Oh, here you are. I've been looking all over for you."

  Delilah's voice purred silken sultry into his ears and he forgot the rest.

  Chapter 25—Father and Daughter

  "You are my father."

  Ena sat across the table from Kāne watching him devour his second breakfast. Two full moons passed since his arrival at Orchardton Hall. Watching him gorge himself it was painfully obvious these last couple months were the first time in years the man had eaten properly.

  "I do not understand how that is possible."

  He shook his head speaking in between shoveling spoonfuls of eggs into his mouth with his fingers and taking great gulps of coffee while spilling it all over the table and floor. His visage reminded Ena of Loki in the old storybooks Lady Lauren often read to her from while sitting around a blazing fire by the seaside.

  The thing about Kāne which stood out the most to Ena was those muscles. His forearms were as thick as her thighs, his chest broad and strong, and his neck like a great tree trunk growing up out of wide-set shoulders. He was not as tall as Alpin and yet the way he carried himself Kāne seemed a good deal bigger.

  His face was kind yet there was a hint of a murky haze behind his coal black eyes where a secret sort of malice might lurk. Though he was not aged neither did he have the look of youth. A wrinkle furrowed his brow between his eyes as if he squinted a great deal. His black hair was longish looking ragged as if he made an effort at cutting it himself recently.

  The thick curly black beard lent a certain kind of shadow to his countenance, as if he might enjoy playing the rascal from time to time. Yet she was sure his kind of face warranted the beard for without it he would seem meek and tame, even effeminate.

  "Parts of you are still inside your mother, Lady Lauren. Our doctor made great magic. She was able to obtain some of that material and use it to help my mother give birth to me."

  "This is a strange tale you tell, Miss Ena. Yet I sense truth within your words."