Nightshine: A Novel of the Kyndred

by Lynn Viehl

  Charlie walked slowly out of the kitchen, blindly following the wordless thought stream in her head. It dragged her feet across the glass floor and into the red living room, where she went to the largest of the windows and opened it.

  The sound and smell of the sea came rushing in with the night breeze, cooling her hot face and the stinging tears beading on her lashes. The only place she had ever felt safe was in the water, where nothing mattered but time and tide. The problems that seemed so enormous on land melted away in the sea, which did not care about them or her. To the water she was something to be swept away, filled and taken apart, until her bones sank and buried themselves in the rich silt.

  She heard a low, almost monotonous keening sound coming from her throat as she wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked, heel to toe.

  Charlie immersed herself in the overwhelming bleakness, allowing it to settle over her so that it dissolved away the ravenous fear that had been tearing at her heart for months. Her hand crept to her belly, and while she didn’t understand why it was flat instead of swollen, she could feel the life kicking inside her. She couldn’t go on like this; it had to end as it should have, in the darkness of the sea she loved, where she would walk into the waves and swim out into the night, away from the island and everyone on it, until she was too tired to turn around and make it back to shore… .

  But I hate the water.

  It was seeing her hand on the doorknob that wrenched her out of the thought stream, and Charlie staggered back, one hand over her mouth as bile surged in her throat. Her shoulders struck the wall, and she slid down, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes until the last echo of the other, suicidal mind dissipated.

  “Oh, God, no.” She struggled to her feet. “Pici.”

  Chapter 17

  The trek to the cave gave Samuel a tour of the island’s flora, although he had yet to encounter any animals other than birds. Insects and reptiles were also noticeably absent, as were any signs of previous occupation. While the brush and trees grew in thick profusion, enough so that they regularly hampered his progress, the layer of decaying vegetation on the ground seemed remarkably thin.

  He stopped in a gap between some palmetto plants and knelt down, gathering up a handful of the browned, fan-shaped leaves they had shed. Beneath them he found no ants, maggots, or other insects; only bits of twig and crushed shells speckled the brown dirt. On impulse he tossed aside the leaves and dug his fingers into the soil, scooping away a handful. The new layer he exposed appeared comprised of small, light brown leaves and larger chunks of silvery wood, with hardly any soil at all.

  Not soil, but mulch.

  Samuel kept digging down, finding a layer of gray-white gravel under the mulch. Beneath that his fingers uncovered black powder mixed with dark gray ash.

  He brought a pinch of it to his nose. “Charcoal?”

  The walls of the small hole he’d dug grew wet and began to collapse in a puddle of dark brown mud. He thrust his hand in one last time, feeling for the next layer and grabbing a handful of it. When he brought his hand out of the tannin-tinted water, he saw that he held a chunk of thin, tightly compacted rotting paper.

  The newspaper pages were falling apart into a pulpy sludge, but he could still make out some of the print, and a date: 29 Septiembre 1989.

  Samuel sat down beside the hole, dropping the decomposing newspaper onto the ground as he looked around him again. It took thousands, perhaps millions, of years for the Earth to form an island, usually from the eruption of an underwater volcano or the accumulation of seashells deposited on shallow-water reefs, where they were cemented together by coral.

  This island was neither.

  “Samuel.”

  He looked up at Colotl’s dark, frowning face, and watched as Tlemi emerged from behind him. Both of the islanders carried bags made of net and filled with folded cloth.

  “Why you dig ground?” Tlemi asked. “We wait; we think you not find cave.”

  “I found something else.” He stood and brushed off his hands. “The master made this island, didn’t he? It’s some kind of artificial habitat.”

  Tlemi looked helpless as she shook her head, obviously not understanding him.

  Colotl’s eyes shifted to the hole in the ground, and he muttered as he bent to fill it back in and cover the spot with a palmetto leaf.

  “No dig holes in island, Samuel,” Tlemi said. She pointed to the ground and then pinched her nose as she grimaced. “Bring bad smell, make us sick.”

  He turned to Colotl and made a broad gesture. “The whole island”—he pointed to the covered hole—“is like this?”

  Colotl hesitated, and then nodded.

  The implications made his stomach turn. “Christ.”

  Tlemi touched his arm. “We go to cave, talk safe there.”

  He nodded and followed the islanders through the brush until they reached a densely wooded thicket of pine. In the center of it a twenty-foot-tall, grass-and vine-covered mound rose, and it looked impenetrable until Colotl took hold of a section of dead vines that turned out to be woven over a bamboo frame. Behind it a narrow opening led into the mound.

  Samuel saw flickering light and stepped inside. The gap was so narrow he had to turn sideways to fit through, but after several feet it opened out into a wide area of rough stone surrounding a bubbling spring.

  The water here was clear and smelled sweet. Samuel nodded to the other men standing around it as he knelt down and looked at his reflection. Beneath the surface a series of white PVC pipes fed streams of fast-moving water into the pool.

  None of it made any sense to him. “Why did the master make this cave?”

  “Liniz, Colotl make,” Tlemi said as she took a napkin from her bag. “Clean water to drink.”

  She opened the napkin, which had been embroidered with an outline of the island, inside which were a dozen circles around specific symbols. The circle representing the cave had three wavy lines inside it; others held different geometric shapes.

  Tlemi pointed to the wavy lines. “Water.” She moved her fingertip to the others. “Food, cloth, blade, club, arrow, spear. We make, hide. Save for leave island.”

  Samuel tapped the symbol she had identified as “blade.” “How many of these did you hide here?”

  “I not know number words. Every moon make two. Now have this many.” She held up all her fingers, curled them over, and extended five on one hand and one on the other.

  Sixteen blades would arm everyone on the island, but they wouldn’t be enough to overcome Segundo’s guns. “How many of the other weapons did you make?”

  One of the men said something to Colotl, who went over to speak in a low voice to him.

  “Same as blades. Make two, every moon.” She took out another napkin and opened it to show the island embroidered again, but this time with a network of lines that indicated the topographical features. At three points around the island, stitched lines radiated out, ending in small crescents.

  “Segundo boats.” Tlemi pointed to the crescent shapes, and then traced the stitched lines over to the outer edge of the island. “Come this way.” She tapped a ridge of lines on the island parallel to the approach. “Wait, watch here. Segundo come, use arrow, fire.” She made an arc with her finger from the ridge to the crescent.

  Samuel shook his head. “We can’t burn the boat; we’ll need it to get everyone off the island.”

  Colotl rejoined them. “Samuel.” He turned and spoke quickly to Tlemi, who argued with him before heaving a sigh.

  “Liniz, Ihiyo worry.” She touched her lips. “You open mouth, show teeth.”

  “The men want to look at my teeth?” he asked, just to be sure. When she nodded, he stepped forward into the light, turning to Colotl as he opened his mouth.

  The islander bent his head to look inside, and then gestured for Liniz and Ihiyo, who came over and did the same before Ihiyo muttered something.

  Colotl drew the blade from his belt, but instead of attacking Sam
uel he slashed it across his palm and held the bleeding wound up in front of Ihiyo’s face.

  Samuel held still. “What is he doing, Tlemi?”

  “Showing Ihiyo blood not make you change.” She gave him a hesitant look. “You no want drink?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t drink blood.” And why would Ihiyo and Liniz think he would?

  Before Samuel could ask, scuffling footsteps came from the outer passage. Instantly the men spread out while Colotl pushed Tlemi behind him.

  Charlotte emerged into the cave, her hair a wild tangle, her face shiny with sweat. “Thank God.” She hurried over to Tlemi. “Where is Pici?”

  Her question caused Ihiyo to surge forward, but Colotl caught his arm.

  “Pici sleep,” Tlemi said.

  Charlotte shook her head. “No, she’s wide-awake.” She turned to Samuel. “Someone has to take me to her, right now.”

  “Why, Charlotte?”

  “My thought stream crossed hers, and I felt everything she was feeling,” she said. “Pici is going to kill herself. Tonight.”

  As soon as Charlotte uttered Pici’s name, Ihiyo shoved his way past them and ran out of the cave.

  “Wait,” she called after him, and then turned to Samuel. “She’s not inside. She’s walking on the beach. I don’t know where.”

  Her voice trembled, and Samuel realized Pici’s decision to drown herself must have brought back memories of her adoptive father and the horror he had put her through on the bridge. “We’ll find her in time,” he promised.

  Once they left the cave, Samuel scanned the surrounding area. Even if they all scattered, the island was too large for them to search every inch of shoreline. “Charlotte, did she think of a particular place when she left the house? A favorite swimming spot, or a cove, or something?”

  She shook her head. “She just kept walking and looking at the water.” Her eyes shifted up. “She could see the moon, but that doesn’t help.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. “Driftwood. She had to walk around piles of it.”

  Tlemi spoke quickly to Colotl, and then said to Samuel, “We know where she is.” She pointed to the west side of the island. “Colotl will guide us there.”

  “If you’ll hold on to me,” Charlotte said as they followed the islanders into the brush, “I can try to reconnect to her.”

  “No.” When she gave Samuel a surprised look, he added, “There are some things you should never have to feel again, honey, and this is one of them.”

  She bit her lip before she nodded. “It’s not her fault. She’s so young, and she’s afraid for the baby.”

  Colotl guided them along a barely perceptible trail through several thickets and groves before the vegetation began to thin and Samuel could hear waves washing up on the sand. As they emerged into the open, Samuel saw Ihiyo running ahead of them toward the water. He was shouting Pici’s name.

  “We’re too late,” Charlotte whispered.

  “No, we’re not.” Samuel kicked off his shoes and took off after Ihiyo.

  Colotl and some of the other men followed him in, but as soon as Samuel dived into the waves he shot ahead of them, cleaving through the rough water with broad, powerful strokes. He passed Ihiyo, who was still shouting, and turned his head from side to side until he spotted her. She was already a hundred yards offshore and swimming steadily away from the island.

  Samuel didn’t waste his breath trying to call her back, but headed directly for her, crossing the distance between them as quickly as he could. Pici looked back, and when she saw him she stopped swimming and sank beneath the surface.

  Water closed over Samuel’s head as he submerged to go after her. Moonbeams filtered down around him, silvering the silhouette of an awkward shape. Bubbles poured from Pici’s mouth as she rapidly sank toward the dark bottom.

  Pressure became a vise around Samuel as he swam down after her, reaching out and snatching the drifting material of her robe and using it to pull her limp body into his arms. He kicked with all his strength, driving both of them rapidly toward the moonlight.

  As his head broke the surface he dragged in oxygen, turning Pici so that her back was pressed to his chest. She didn’t move for several moments, and then she coughed out some water and began breathing.

  “Be still,” he told her when she made a weak attempt to push away his arm. Once he was sure he had a good grip on her, he used his free arm and his legs to propel them back toward the beach.

  Colotl met him halfway to the shore and flanked Pici, helping to support her. He spoke sharply to her, but when she didn’t respond he looked over her head at Samuel.

  “She’s all right,” he told the islander, nodding at the same time. “Charlotte will look after her.”

  Ihiyo and the rest of the men converged on them as they reached the shallows, and Pici’s distraught partner let out a terrible wail as he saw her condition.

  “Tlemi,” Samuel called. “Tell him she’s alive. Charlotte.”

  “Here.” She pushed her way through the men and placed her hand on Pici’s throat. “Let’s get her out of the water.”

  Samuel carried her up onto the sand, where several of the women had spread out some palm fronds. Remembering the recovery position Charlotte had used on Findley, he lowered Pici down gently onto her side.

  Charlotte knelt beside her and checked her pulse, then put her ear to the other woman’s chest and listened. “Her lungs are clear.” She placed her hands on the sides of Pici’s distended belly, moving them slowly over the mound until she felt something. “The baby’s active.”

  Ihiyo fell to the sand on the other side of Pici, his face stricken with fear.

  “We need to get her warm and dry,” Charlotte said to Tlemi. “Whose house is nearest to here?”

  “Yours,” Tlemi told her, pointing past the driftwood piles.

  Colotl helped Ihiyo to his feet while Samuel lifted Pici. The other islanders walked ahead, lighting their path with torches as they made their way down the beach.

  Charlotte paced Samuel as she kept an eye on Pici’s face. “This is not over yet,” she murmured to him. “I need to give her a complete examination and then monitor her for the rest of the night.”

  “What are your concerns?”

  “Aside from the fact that she’s suicidal, trauma like this often results in premature delivery.” She glanced out at the water. “If she has the baby tonight, by tomorrow morning they’ll know, and they’ll come to take it.”

  Samuel looked down at Pici’s young, pale face. “Not if we convince them that she drowned herself tonight.”

  Charlotte stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes briefly before she turned to him. “It’s too late.”

  “They could have given me superstrength.” Drew crawled across the bottom of the hold. “Or eyes that shoot laser beams. Yeah, that would be better; I’d just have to wear sunglasses all the time. I look good in shades.”

  The nylon cords they’d used to bind his wrists and ankles had been knotted so tightly they cut into his flesh with every move he made, but he ignored the discomfort as he inched across the rough planks toward the shape huddled in one corner. Gracie hadn’t moved or spoken since the guards had tossed her below with him, but he was pretty sure she was conscious.

  “I bet you got a cool ability,” he continued, wincing as his knee rammed into a nail head protruding from the deck. “Like you can walk on water, or breathe it, or something like that, right?”

  Gracie uttered a muffled sob.

  “It’s okay,” he assured her. “You don’t have to tell me anything right now. Unless you’re a mermaid.” He reached her, and shuffled around until he cradled her body with his. “If my kids are going to have fins or scales, I should know that now. I mean, after I figure a way to get that gag off you.”

  Gracie made a choking sound as she turned and pressed her face against his chest as she wept.

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I’ll get us out of this. I
swear.”

  He kept talking to her, soothing her as best he could until she calmed and quieted. At last she lifted her face, working her jaw until the gag slipped down over her chin.

  “Good girl.” Drew caught an edge of the scarf still stuffed in her mouth and tugged until it fell to the deck, and Gracie released a long, shuddering breath.

  “Better?”

  “They’re taking us to the island.” Her voice rasped out the words.

  “Is this the same island where they dumped Samuel and Charlotte?” He felt her nod. “Good.”

  She stiffened. “No, Andrew, it is not good. It is the end of our freedom. We’ll be kept there as prisoners, having children for the master until we die.”

  “I promise you, that rotting piece of shit can’t make us do anything.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Do you trust me?”

  “What do you think?” She hiccuped a laugh. “I gave up my life for you.”

  “No, I think you decided to take it back.” He strained at the cords around his wrists again, and felt them loosen a little. “Samuel Taske is one of the smartest men I know, and I’m no slouch, either. So, tell me about the others like us. How many are on the island with my friends now?”

  “Twelve,” she said slowly. “They lived with the master until a year ago, but he kept them secluded. I saw them a few times when I went to his estate at night. They are strange.”

  Drew had been counting on recruiting some of the former orphans. “How strange?”

  “They speak an old language—he would not let them learn Spanish—but it is how they walk and move and work. They do everything together, perfectly.” She hesitated. “At first I thought they were like machines, but it is more than that. They act as a group, not as individual people.”

  “Did the master train them to do that?”

  “I don’t think so. Seeing them always made me think of a herd of wild horses running together, or a pack of wolves hunting down prey.” She sighed. “Stanton said that I was supposed to be one of them, but something went wrong with me.”