Caitlin uttered a small laugh, the kind of laugh Lizbeth knew came out against a person’s will. Then she sniffed and said, “That’s some promise.”
Lizbeth thought it was safe to look over, but caught them just as Bill lifted the much-smaller Caitlin up into a tight embrace. She looked away quickly, but not before noticing Caitlin’s ardent response.
Lizbeth hid a smile even though there was no one to see.
Chapter Fifty-two
The Isle of Wight
After everyone but Caitlin, Kevin, Zach and Lizbeth left the ship, Bill had the captain of the scientific drilling vessel set course for the Isle of Wight. Before Kevin had gone to his cabin, Bill was justifiably furious with Caitlin and not inclined to be generous, so he wondered how she’d convinced him to take yet another risk for them.
It was still mostly dark when Bill brought them to shore in one of the dinghies. In the dim glow from the approaching sunrise, Kevin unwillingly witnessed Caitlin slip into Bill’s arms in a passionate embrace.
Love, Kevin thought, will make a man take chances.
“I’ll come to you,” Caitlin said, giving Bill a tremulous smile. “Fare well.”
Her car wasn’t waiting for them in the parking lot this time. She chose a nondescript green sedan, waited while Lizbeth picked the lock, and told them, “Don’t leave any fingerprints.” She parked it about a half-mile away from Felicity’s house and they walked the rest of the way.
In the muted light of early morning, no one would guess Felicity’s hulking stone house was a veritable kaleidoscope on the inside. Kevin took note of the strange car parked in the drive as he walked with Caitlin, Zach and Lizbeth to the front door. Caw flew to a lamp post and perched atop it, calling out a raucous challenge to the local birds.
Before Caitlin could lift the brass door knocker, Kevin threw an arm out to block her.
“Something’s wrong,” he whispered.
“Do you think you could be more specific with these warnings?” Zach asked.
Kevin shushed him, but it was too late. The door opened and he was suddenly face-to-face with the barrel of a pistol.
“Put your hands in the air, all of you!”
Kevin obeyed, stepping back as the gunman advanced on them. Two police officers, one male, one female, ordered them down on the ground. Kevin kneeled on the gravel and looked at Caitlin. She set the triskele box down near the bushes and stepped away from it before lying down. In his head, he heard her clearly, “Do nothing!”
He tried to respond, tried to telepathically tell her, “Change! Shapeshift into someone else while they can’t see your face!” but he wasn’t sure if he’d done it right because she either didn’t hear him, or chose not to.
The male officer stood over her and asked, “Caitlin O’Connor?”
“Yes.”
He knelt and cuffed her before hauling her up. “You’re under arrest for escape and kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping?” Lizbeth and Zach exclaimed together.
Felicity appeared in the doorway. She shook her head at Caitlin as if to say, “I had no choice.”
Kevin saw Caitlin give her a sad, understanding sort of smile.
“Wolfdogge?” Felicity asked.
“I’m sorry, Grandmother.”
Felicity nodded.
The officer marched Caitlin to his unmarked vehicle and tucked her inside.
The female officer went over to Lizbeth and asked, “Are you Miss Moreau? I’m Officer Bennett.”
Kevin expected her to begin cuffing them all. Instead, the front door opened wider and an attractive black woman rushed out, hands clasped in front of her mouth. In a distinctive New Orlean’s accent, she cried, “Lizbeth! Thank God you’re safe.”
From her prone position in the gravel a few feet away from Kevin, Lizbeth’s eyes went wide. “Mom?”
The male officer, hand on his weapon as he eyed Zach and Kevin, helped Lizbeth up. “Is this your daughter, Mrs. Moreau?”
With a sob, Lizbeth’s mother swept her into a fierce hug.
“For the record, Moreau is her maiden name,” Felicity said.
Mrs. Moreau turned her head and snapped, “And if it weren’t for you and your crazy family, I wouldn’t have had to use it, or to hide out gutting fish for a living!”
“What?” Lizbeth asked weakly.
Her mother stepped back, hands on Lizbeth’s shoulders. “What nonsense did Caitlin fill your head with?”
“It’s not nonsense,” Lizbeth began, but Mrs. Moreau’s delicate features, so like and yet unlike Lizbeth’s, twisted with rage. She pointed at Caitlin in the back of the police car.
“You stay away from my daughter!”
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Officer Bennett said, patting her on the back. “She won’t escape a second time.”
The officers allowed Zach and Kevin to get up and began questioning Lizbeth about her supposed abduction. Kevin flashed back to the young police officer who’d detained them in London and reacted so strongly to her ID. He had recognized her face, but not, as they’d all supposed, because the police thought they were Caitlin’s terrorist associates. The police officer realized who Lizbeth was because her mother had reported her missing, claiming Caitlin had abducted her. Kevin realized something else: Len knew Caitlin had been arrested on terrorist charges because he and Simon were the ones who turned her in in the first place. They needed to get her out of the way while they figured out what to do with the crown. Simon had been aboard The Gossamer, the ship whose mission Griffey secretly funded, so he had to know who and what Griffey was. Len and Simon would have anonymously called the Chief Inspector because he was the one person they knew had the power, and the desire, to control Caitlin. Their mistake was in underestimating the time it would take for Caitlin to escape and figure out their involvement.
Lizbeth categorically denied being abducted, saying, “I ran away. Caitlin is my grandmother and I wanted to get to know her. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And these boys?”
“They had nothing to do with any of it,” Lizbeth said, looking down.
Officer Bennett took Mrs. Moreau aside, but Kevin heard her tell Lizbeth’s mother that as long as Lizbeth claimed to have run away, they couldn’t file kidnapping charges. “But Ms. O’Connor will certainly be charged for escaping jail, and we’ll be questioning her about a recent triple homicide and our missing Chief Inspector, who was the original arresting officer.”
Before the officers got into their cruiser, they assured Mrs. Moreau they’d send a car to take her and Lizbeth to the ferry landing.
And then Caitlin was gone. Kevin, Zach and Lizbeth watched the car until it disappeared around a bend in the road. From his perch on the lamp post, Caw let out a plaintive cry that echoed throughout the neighborhood.
“I know you’re angry, Annabelle,” Felicity said, “but at least come inside to wait. Let the kids say their goodbyes.”
“I’d rather eat gator scat. Lizbeth – let’s go.”
Lizbeth backed away when her mother reached for her, staring into her face with an uncomprehending look. “How could you do this to me?”
Mrs. Moreau tried again to grab Lizbeth’s arm. “We’ll discuss who did what to whom on the trip back home.”
“No! I’m not going back to Alaska. I hate it there!”
“You’ll do as I say, young lady! You’re my responsibility until you’re eighteen, and until that day, I’ll do everything in my power to keep your grandmother – either of them – from corrupting you.”
Lizbeth’s eyes narrowed and her face hardened. “Corrupting me like this?”
Kevin knew Lizbeth had been traumatized the first time she’d shapeshifted, but this time it looked as if she’d mastered the process. As her arms became claws and wings grew from her shoulders, her mother backed away, tripping over her own feet and landing on her backside in the gravel. Lizbeth held the griffin visage, looking rather ridiculous dressed in jeans and Werka’s oversized sweatshir
t, for maybe ten seconds before shifting back. She directed a satisfied look toward her mother.
Mrs. Moreau scrambled to her feet. Kevin expected her to blubber in shock, but she surprised him. “I see you take after your father. Fair enough. I didn’t want you to learn about any of that. I wanted you to have a normal life. Your birthday is less than four months from now. You can choose what you want to do after that. Right now, you’re coming home with me. Say goodbye to your friends.”
She crossed her arms and walked away down the drive. Kevin heard the crunch of tires on the gravel. Mrs. Moreau stopped next to a car and spoke to the driver through the passenger window.
The sun finally made its appearance, beaming weak rays of light through a thin layer of hazy clouds. The tears in Lizbeth’s eyes shimmered, but didn’t fall. She stretched her arms out, one toward him and one toward Zach. Kevin moved in for a three-way hug, and they held each other for a long moment.
“We’ll see each other again soon,” Zach said, kissing her on top of the head. “You can be sure of that.”
“I can’t believe it’s ending this way,” she said.
“How did you expect it to end?” Kevin asked.
Lizbeth produced a weak laugh. “Parades and accolades? No one even knows what we did. My reward is to go back to frigid Alaska, back to work at wonderful Clowntastic Pizza.”
“You work there?” Zach asked in a teasing voice. “I loved that place when I was a kid. Sing the song!”
“No!” Her laugh was stronger this time as she pushed him away and took a half-hearted swipe at him.
“Oh, you’ll sing it for me someday, Missy.”
Lizbeth’s mother called out for her to hurry. Lizbeth went to give Felicity a quick hug. Felicity patted her on the back. “You’ll be fine, dearie. And you’re always welcome here, remember that.”
Lizbeth pulled away, fully crying now. Kevin felt an answering sting in his eyes, but he’d be damned if he was going to bawl in front of Zach.
“Don’t forget this,” Felicity said. She retrieved the triskele box and handed it to her.
Lizbeth looked down at it with a dejected sigh. “Tell her I’ll keep it safe.”
Felicity chuckled. “You can probably tell her yourself soon enough. This is Caitlin we’re talkin’ about.”
Lizbeth’s footsteps were heavy as she walked to the car where her mother waited. She gave them all a half-wave as her face crumpled. Looking up at the sky through her tears, she said, “’Bye Caw.”
For the second time that morning, Kevin watched a car carry someone he loved away from him.
Chapter Fifty-three
Fairbanks, Alaska
There was always one kid in every party terrified of Clownee the Clown. As soon as Lizbeth appeared, peeking out through the sheer fabric eyes of the bulky, smelly headpiece, one little girl let loose with a high-pitched, unending series of screams. Her mother rushed over to sweep the girl into her arms, smiling an apology at the other moms before exiting the big, drafty party room. The wailing of the child accompanied her like an ambulance siren fading into the distance.
The party hostess flipped a switch and music blared from hidden speakers. Trying to stick with the beat, Lizbeth performed the Clownee Dance, shuffling her enormous cartoony shoes and waving her huge cartoony hands. Some of the children danced and sang along, but a few clung to her, clutching at her costume and hampering her every move. The song ended and she smiled, pleased that this time she hadn’t dislodged any of the clingers or knocked any of them down. It was hard not to, with the severely limited vision afforded her by the head-piece.
At least it was Monday. The weekends were the worst, with party upon party booked throughout the day. Lizbeth only had to make four appearances today, and this was the final one. She mimed her goodbyes to the children and beat as hasty a retreat as she could manage.
After removing the costume, she said goodbye to her coworkers and boarded the bus for home.
Home was no longer Granma’s cabin, which had been destroyed in one of the wildfires sparked by the eruption of the reactivated Buzzard Creek volcano to the south. Now Lizbeth, her mother and Granma shared a cramped apartment with another displaced family in town. In this chapter of the world’s history it was not a good time to be poor, but Lizbeth knew there were many millions of people in far worse shape than they were. Her mother had been laid off from her job at the fish market since entire fishing fleets had been lost during the Cataclysm, and marine life in general along the volcanically active Aleutian Islands had suffered. Between them, Lizbeth and Granma made enough to keep them fed and housed, if not comfortably. They’d gotten help after Katrina, but this time government money for disaster victims just wasn’t available, given how widespread the devastation was.
Stupid Cataclysm.
To Lizbeth, it was a miracle that places like Clowntastic Pizza were still in business, but she supposed even in troubled times, people had to amuse themselves. Even though Granma’s customers were just as needy of spiritual intervention as ever, she was making a fraction of what she’d brought in before the Cataclysm, mostly because she refused to take payment from those who were hardest hit. Annabelle took babysitting and housecleaning jobs where she could find them.
The apartment was empty when Lizbeth arrived home, a rare occurrence. There were no flowers or balloons or cards in her room, not that she expected her mother to waste precious money on such things, or to make the effort, for that matter, given that she was so opposed to Lizbeth gaining the age of majority. With no one at home, there wasn’t anyone hogging the old computer Granma had gotten in barter from a client. Lizbeth hated waiting for her allotted half hour every evening.
Stupid Cataclysm.
She sat at the communal work desk, pressed the start button on the PC and listened to the alarming grinding noises the hard drive made while booting up. The dial-up Internet connection, all they could afford, slowly brought up her email provider. She smiled when she saw an email from Zach. The subject line read, “Zach Sings,” and the only thing in the body of the message was a link. She clicked on it and waited an eternity for his YouTube page to load. There he was, black hair sticking out in all directions and eyes disappearing with the force of his lopsided grin. When the video started and he began to sing an off-key version of “Happy Birthday to You – You Live in the Zoo,” she clapped her hands and laughed. She watched the whole spectacle, even though her connection was so slow the video had to pause and load every ten seconds or so.
At the end, Zach said, “You’re a big girl now. When you’re ready to come visit, just say the word and I’ll raid my savings account to send tickets. I miss you.”
Lizbeth sighed happily when the video ended and sent Zach a quick reply. Legally, she was free of her mother as of today, but morally, she couldn’t leave. Right now Annabelle needed her paycheck. Yes, her mother had gone to great lengths to hide Lizbeth from Caitlin after her father died. Lizbeth never even knew her real last name was O’Connor. But Annabelle had done it to protect her, and once Lizbeth gave the matter some hard thought, she couldn’t blame her. From almost the moment she met Caitlin, she’d been in danger. Once Lizbeth had a chance to explain the truth behind the Cataclysm, her mother had softened slightly. If Lizbeth knew where Caitlin was, Annabelle might even let them develop some kind of relationship, assuming Caitlin wanted one.
Lizbeth had been back in Alaska for weeks before news reached her that Caitlin had once again escaped jail. How hard could it be to get away, really, when she could become anyone or any animal? It tickled Lizbeth to imagine Caitlin ducking around the corner in the jail yard and shapeshifting into a cute puppy dog. Then all she’d have to do is wag her tail and charm the inmates and guards alike. They’d scratch their heads trying to figure out how she got in – and then open the gate and let her trot right out. Or maybe they’d call the pound and Caitlin would have exchanged one kind of prison for another, but Lizbeth was sure however she did it, it had been a success.
“Oh, my gosh. Who are these from?” She snatched the card from its plastic holder and tore open the tiny envelope. It read, “Dear Lizbeth, I hope you have a happy birthday. Sincerely, Kevin.”
She laughed. Kevin’s style was such a departure from Zach’s. She took the bouquet from the delivery guy, who just stood there, looking like he was waiting for a tip. She didn’t have any cash on hand, but she was still wearing her Clowntastic Pizza uniform, so she reached into her pocket and withdrew a handful of game tokens.
“This is all I got,” she said.
The delivery guy looked affronted, so she said, “Come on, everyone likes pizza.”
He held up a box with a popular ice cream cake label and responded in Caitlin’s voice, “I’d rather share a slice of birthday cake with my granddaughter.”
Chapter Fifty-four
San Francisco, California
Holed up in his bedroom, Zach tried to ignore the grating scream of the band saw and the steady hammering at the back of the house. It had taken four months for his parents to get to the top of the construction company’s waiting list. They’d lived around the damage to their house since then; the gaps in joints at the roof that let in copious amounts of rain, the boarded up windows, the broken bricks and tiles. It was lucky for his parents that they’d actually purchased earthquake insurance; so many hadn’t. Lucky, too, that the insurance company hadn’t buckled under the weight of incoming claims; so many had.
San Francisco hadn’t fared well in the Cataclysm, but at least it was still on the map, unlike many villages, towns and even a few cities throughout the world. As Bay Area city planners had feared for years, the earthquakes caused havoc on the network of underground gas lines. Dozens had ignited, from the coast to the inland valleys, exploding through entire neighborhoods. Water pipeline breakage had crippled firefighter efforts, and history repeated itself as if no lessons whatsoever had been learned since 1906.
The Gossamer Crown: Book One of The Gossamer Sphere Page 21