by Celia Jerome
“We cannot be certain, but something like ‘return to your roots, where you belong, whence you came.’”
Without mentioning Unity, I told him they wouldn’t take it back. They’d sent it to the Earth’s core.
I heard the professor behind me: “The phrase could mean back to its inception, perhaps to an egg.”
A worm egg in the center of our world, where it could not escape for centuries, at least. “Excellent. That’s exactly what we need!”
If we got close enough to lay the curse on the fiend.
“Be careful, Willy. I am sorry I can’t be with you.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“But not very sorry?”
“I’ve got a lot of help this time, the professor, his pet, some of the villagers. And I’m hoping for some of the Others.” He’d understand the unspoken capital letter.
“And the veterinarian I hear you touched with power?”
“Matt. Yes, he will be with me. He’s strong and a lot braver than I am.”
“I’m glad, Willy.”
“But not too glad?”
He laughed. “Unless you are ready to reconsider …”
“A man who takes a quick jaunt into orbit the way some people go to Atlantic City on a whim? No, thanks. But I am happy that you got to experience space travel, for your sake. You must be in heaven.”
“Dashed close to it. Too bad all the excitement is in Paumanok Harbor.”
“I’ll trade you.”
He laughed again, a sound I once thought I’d never have enough of. “You don’t like flying.”
“I am terrified of it. And boats and electric storms and snakes and having someone steal my mind. They’re all looming.”
“You’ll do fine, Willy. You always do.”
No, I always cried and quivered and ate too much.
We said good-bye.
I went looking for chocolate cake.
CHAPTER 34
GRANDMA EVE HAD CHOCOLATE MOUSSE cake. I left her the professor and took the cake. And the whipped cream. Would I ever see whipped cream again without thinking of Matt? That was better than thinking of tomorrow, or those poor women today.
I saved him a piece. Okay, a small piece. But I felt better after eating the cake and if he cared for me as much as he said he did, he’d want me to have it. So I ate his piece, too.
Five pounds heavier and three “oh, dears” guiltier, I gave Little Red a good-bye cookie, and went to help Matt in his office. I needed to keep my mind off the storm and my ridiculous plan that didn’t have a chance in hell of succeeding, but a hellishly good one of getting me and the professor and who knew how many others killed. Like Matt, whose cake I’d eaten, among my other faults, like getting him involved in the first place.
I should have saved some of the cake for my last meal.
The vet clinic had havoc of its own: appointments backed up because Matt was gone for an hour; the vet assistants and kennel staff trying to work the computer instead of holding animals for Matt to work on; the waiting room full of nervous dogs, yowling cats, and panicked, impatient owners. Everyone wanted to get on with their emergency plans before the storm. Even placid Moses seemed distressed at being ignored.
I don’t know who was happier to see me, Matt or his dog. Maybe the rest of his staff because I took over consoling the puppy and managed the front desk. I was damn good at it, too.
Sure Melissa had set up the computer system to be navigable by an orangutan and the directions for credit card transactions were almost as simple. Maybe she could do it better, faster, more efficiently, but I helped reassure the worried people their pets were in good hands. Hypnotized or not, she never cared enough.
Moses leaned against me behind the counter, drooling on my shoes, which was better than Little Red peeing on them, so I cuddled him and talked to him between patients, and we both felt better.
Especially when I found the portable TV on a shelf in the hall so I could stay in touch.
The Weather Channel’s hurricane expert reported a sudden change in Desi: a shift farther out into the Atlantic, away from shore. Somehow the Gulf Stream, with its warm waters, had taken a favorable easterly bend. Desi tried to follow.
I sent a silent thank you to the wind and water wizards at DUE.
A hurricane lost some of its strength over cooler water, which was why hurricane season didn’t usually last far into the fall. Something about hot air rising. Desi got downgraded to a category four, still wildly dangerous, but not absolutely guaranteed to destroy everything in its path. Cape Hatteras, sticking out from the mainland the way it did, escaped a devastating blow. Now all the attention and red flags got pinned on eastern Long Island, still in the killer storm’s trajectory. Desi hadn’t lost its size or its forward motion, only a few mph’s in the wind speeds. In fact, to the forecaster’s admitted surprise, all indications had the storm traveling north at a greater velocity than he’d seen in a lifetime of hurricane watching. Its first bands might reach the Island’s South Fork as early as late tomorrow, far ahead of earlier predictions. Which, of course, sent everyone in the waiting room into a frenzy, with fights breaking out and messes on the floor. And the dogs didn’t behave well, either.
I handled it.
What I couldn’t handle was not knowing if Paumanok Harbor’s own meteorologists were watching the radar screens, too. Someone had to tell them to hurry. Heaven knew what the shorter time frame could do to our schedules. They had to work harder, faster, better. The ship had to get to us. The girls had to be rescued. Our equipment had to be loaded. Vanderman had to be neutralized. And those were only a few of the pre-storm plans.
I thought about Vanderman, and Lou, who was still the scariest man I knew. Capable and efficient, yes. Cold-blooded and ruthless? Maybe. Was neutralized a more polite way of saying eliminated? Assassinated? Killed? And what about that chilling mention of divestment? Did they dissect a bad dude’s brain and leave him dribbling and diapered?
If Vanderman had a part in bringing N’fwend to the Hamptons, if he used Lolly and Melissa against their will, I’d cheer Lou on. Mind control had to be one of the most dreadful crimes against humanity. But making Lou judge and jury? And executor? Were DUE’s actions okay if they used it to protect the rest of us? I’d ask Matt what he thought, later. For now he thought I was an angel and a goddess, and if I ever got tired of writing stories or ran out of ideas, he’d hire me in a minute.
When the waiting room emptied and his staff could take over the phones and the files, I went home, after a detour to Shearwater Street.
The House stayed quiet, there amid its deserted neighbors. I said thank you anyway. And then I asked it for more help. “If you have any influence, tell them we could use some assistance.”
“All you need is love.”
Sure, tell that to Vanderman and the water dragon.
Oey was waiting for me at my house. She seemed anxious, agitated, hopping from branch to porch railing, into the tub, swimming in circles, blowing bubbles.
“It’s coming, isn’t it?” I knew better than to mention N’fwend’s name, which usually had Oey disappearing.
The bubbles turned blood red.
“We are going to need your friends, the new dolphins.”
The parrot head popped out of the pool. “Thmart.”
“Yes, they are.” But were they smart enough to know we’d need their help, or smart enough to stay far, far away? “Will they come?”
“Thoon.”
“Good. They won’t be hurt by the riptides and storm surges, will they?”
Oey clacked her beak. I knew by now that meant I was dumb as a dodo. Which were dumb enough to let their whole species get wiped out. “Okay, the dolphins can disappear. We can’t. So we might need the big guy.”
“Rulth.”
M’ma rules his kingdom, or he won’t break the rules? He did, for his own safety and for the sake of his symbiotes, or to warn us. All I could think of was that phrase about needing to break some
eggs to make an omelet. Oey might get offended by the words “eggs” and “omelet” in the same sentence. “It is his enemy, too.”
Oey did not comment.
“Do you know anything about the two women on the ship? Are they alive?”
“Theen. Not thpeak.”
“They’re dead?” How could I tell poor Matt?
Oey shook her head, sending drops of water down my shirt. “All boobth, no brainth.”
“Oh, they couldn’t talk to you? Or thought you were too stupid to talk to them? They are ordinary people; it’s not their fault. Melissa is supposed to be very smart. Lolly tries.”
“Cwies.”
“Has he hurt them? Are they frightened? Hungry?”
“Bwought foodth. One thcweamed. One cwied.”
“That was kind of you for trying. What did you bring?”
“Eelth.”
“Uh, live eels?”
Those strong beaks clacked together again. What other kind was there?
Suddenly all that chocolate cake did not sit so well on my stomach.
Matt came over, with Moses, who greeted me as if I hadn’t seen him an hour ago. Little Red did not mind, except he raised his leg on Matt’s foot.
Matt was too tired to complain. He looked exhausted, worried, anxious. Matt? The rock whose sanity I depended on?
“What’s wrong?” Other than that a hurricane is coming with its killer coxswain, two girls are on a sinking ship, along with the village finances, and no one knew the whereabouts of a malicious mesmerist.
Matt folded me in his arms. “I’m scared.”
I held as tight as I could. “You? You’re not afraid of anything! You like my grandmother and offered to take Lou fishing. You tell my mother some dogs are not worth saving. How could you be afraid of a hurricane?”
“It’s not the storm.”
“What, then? Trying to stop the sea serpent? Having all of Paumanok Harbor think you’re insane because they can’t see it? Going on a ship that’s already proved unsteady?”
“No, those are your worries. I’m afraid of losing my niece, having to tell my sister I brought her baby here to Paumanok Harbor only to have her enslaved, corrupted, kidnapped by a madman.”
Melissa as a baby was a new concept, but I guess everyone was a cute little cherub, once. I rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tight muscles there. So Matt was human. I liked him better for it.
“We won’t lose her. We know where she is. We’ll get her. The plan is already working. Feel how cold the night is?” I felt chilled, but maybe more for his fears than the temperature.
“It’s September. The nights always get cool.”
“Not this cool. It’s our weather wizards, working overtime.”
“They can’t freeze the harbor in one day.”
“Of course not, but they can chill it. So can those rocket launchers Lou called in.” DUE couldn’t get planes close enough to seed the storm—Desi was too big, too dangerous—but they could fire ionizers, or whatever it was the science guys did, to turn the hurricane’s rain into frozen sleet. Both Desi and N’Fwend’s strength had to be sapped in the cold. “Remember, the damned thing used to hang out in Bermuda, then at the molten center of the Earth. It’s bound to be weaker in the cold.”
“You can’t know for sure.”
I wasn’t used to Matt having doubts. I was the one who waffled, who second-guessed and self-doubted. “You have a better idea?”
“Yeah, let me keep holding you.”
Yup, a much better idea. I could forget about tomorrow in his arms, forget about everything except Matt and his needs, my need for him to stay strong and confident. We comforted each other, took strength from each other. Loved each other, with our clothes on, too, to prove this wasn’t merely a physical attraction.
“God, how I needed you. I couldn’t get out of the clinic fast enough to come to you.”
“And I couldn’t wait for you to get here. Can you stay the night? The dogs seem fine together, and everyone has your cell number.”
We settled on the couch, surrounded by the dogs, just holding each other, breathing each other’s scents. We were both so tired we’d fall into exhausted naps only to wake up minutes or hours later, remembering the horrors, and drawing closer again.
“I couldn’t get through this without you, Willow,” he said, pressing his lips to my forehead.
“Me neither. I couldn’t think about facing tomorrow if you weren’t at my side.”
“I think—no, I know—I want to be there, here, wherever you are, tomorrow and the day after, too. Maybe forever.”
“Forever?” I heard the mouse squeak in the cat’s paws. That is, in my voice. “It’s too soon to talk about forever. The ship only went down less than a week ago.”
“It feels like a lifetime ago. A lifetime wasted because you weren’t in it.”
How could anyone resist a guy like that? I could. I had to. His words felt too sincere, his arms felt too good. But Matt was tired and worried, and it was too soon, with too much else to think about.
Tomorrow comes before forever.
CHAPTER 35
MATT DID NOT STAY THE NIGHT. Maybe he really had to check on the dogs in the kennel despite half his staff staying there ahead of the storm. Maybe he had to reassure his sister. Maybe he just didn’t like my answer, which wasn’t an answer.
If ever there was a time for one of those soul-scraping, heart-dredging, where-are-we-going relationship conversations, this was not it.
And we both needed a good night’s sleep, so I didn’t argue or complain or whine.
I didn’t get any sleep. My mother’s house had never felt so empty, my bed so cold. I turned up the heat, dragged Little Red under the covers with me, put on socks, and still felt the chill. The weather dudes were doing good. I wasn’t. I argued with myself, complained to Little Red, and whined.
Matt looked as bad as I did when we met at Rick’s marina in the morning, after leaving all the dogs at the vet clinic. Grandma Eve handed us apples and muffins from a sack she’d brought. No eye of newt, anyway. I couldn’t eat.
Matt took my hand. Then I got hungry.
Half the town had come to the shipyard to watch a fleet of tugboats nudge the Nova Pride close to shore the next morning. The tugs fled for safer waters—maybe up Three Mile Harbor’s long creek, or inland near Louse Point. They had time, although the hurricane’s rain and winds were already picking up.
Heavy ferro-cement barges replaced the tugboats. They brought winches and weights and anchors and espers. Our people stood watch from every side of the cruise ship, to make sure Vanderman did not get past. The anchors were going to make sure the liner didn’t come crashing into the beach or onto the piers, where Rick was still hauling boats out of the water as fast as he and his crews could. I didn’t think those high cradles the yachts and fishing boats sat on looked any safer than the docks, but what did I know?
I knew I was freezing, exposed to the frigid wind and stinging rain, despite all the foul-weather gear I could layer on. The waves were high enough to wash over the lowest wharves, so Matt suggested we move back to the clam bar area, where a lot of the Harborites waited.
We watched the men on the barges work, and watched the water get choppier. And colder.
“That’s good, right?” Aunt Jasmine asked me.
Good for us, not so good for the guys working on the barges, or the dolphins I could see leaping around the Nova Pride. Big, beautiful creatures, with extra fins and pinkish skins, seemed to be watching the ship as carefully as we were.
“What do you see?” I whispered to Matt.
“No species I ever heard of. Too bad Vicki and Gina couldn’t see them.”
No one saw them as odd but us. Maybe the professor could have, but the police chief declared the weather too treacherous to chance losing our primary resource before the moment of truth. Close to sunset was the latest projection, almost eight hours away. Dr. Harmon had a warm, dry place in Rick’s secon
d-story office over the ships’ store. I guess I was dispensable. Lou sent Grandma Eve and Doc Lassiter up the stairs, along with Lolly’s aunt and Melissa’s parents, who’d arrived in town earlier.
When the crew chief declared the Nova Pride secured, the carefully selected boarding parties approached from three directions, in Zodiac inflatable rafts and rescue boats.
Someone on shore had the operation frequency on responder, so we could hear their loudspeakers calling Vanderman, urging him to surrender. “You have nowhere to go. Release the hostages. Get out of the storm.”
We did not hear any response. Soon men in wet suits—what about Kevlar vests? Could they float?—swarmed over the sides of the ship on rope ladders, then more ran up the ship’s gangway that got let down to one of the barges.
They couldn’t find Vanderman or the girls. The jungle lounge was empty except for some dead eels. Static jammed the radio as commands for a search operation went out. We couldn’t hear anything but the wind and the waves breaking nearby.
“I’m going.”
“NO!” I screamed at Matt. “Those men are trained and armed and have diagrams of the boat.”
“I have a niece.”
And a responsibility to be at my side at sunset, I wanted to yell, but I couldn’t. “If you are going, so am I.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, get used to it.”
He browbeat Elgin, the harbormaster and head of the weather crew, to take us out to the barge. Someone shoved a life jacket over my head and buckled it, then we ran between waves to the end of the wet dock, down a ladder, onto the madly rocking boat, then over to the barge, jumping across—over open water!—then up the gangway to the Nova Pride. None of those horrors mattered; I had my eyes closed the whole time. I think I lost the apple and muffin somewhere—I could hear Elgin cursing—but I never let go of Matt’s hand.
At the top of the gangway, Matt pulled his hand away—I could see the marks where my fingernails had sunk into his skin—and told me to stay. Moses might have obeyed the command. I went after Matt.
A diver handed me a flashlight. The ship had no power, but the girl in a wet suit and scuba gear said techs were working on it. All available generators ran the pumps and the spotlights on deck for the workers, and for spotting Vanderman.