by Layton Green
Zawadi knelt to remove the rusty bars. “Quickly now.”
“Can he swim in this shape?”
“I’ll help him. We’re not going far. Please, just follow me to the surface.”
“I can swim and talk,” Cal said, his voice stronger than Andie had heard in some time. “The adrenaline is kicking in.”
“Go ahead,” Zawadi said to Andie. “I’ll replace the grate.”
Wary of the murky water, but far more worried about getting caught, Andie forced herself to stick her legs into the dark abyss lurking below the dungeon. The water was colder than she expected. After a deep breath, she lowered herself through the grate, submerging fully. Once she got over the shock, she opened her eyes and spied a giant wooden piling five feet from her face, its bottom unseen in the lightless depths.
Cal followed her down. Andie held on to him as Zawadi dropped through the hole and held a penlight in one hand while she replaced the grate. After that, she linked an arm through Cal’s, and Andie helped on the other side.
The waterproof penlight cast a faint halo in the cloudy water. Following Zawadi’s lead, Andie and Cal kicked a dozen or so feet to the side, until they reached the submerged corner of the building. Zawadi pointed straight up, and long seconds later they broke the surface beneath a crescent moon, emerging in a narrow canal walled in by decrepit buildings with laundry hanging from rickety stone balconies. Andie took deep but quiet breaths to recover her oxygen. Clumps of debris floated on the filmy surface of the water, and the stench of the sewer filled her nose. When Zawadi flicked off her penlight, the moon was the sole spark of life in the decaying corpse of Venice.
“Where are we?” Andie asked. It felt bizarre to find the city so quiet. She was confused by the late hour and realized the guard must have tried to disorient her by feeding her at odd times. Had three days really passed?
“The Venetian Ghetto,” Zawadi said. “Hurry now.”
Canoes with motors, fishing dinghies, and other dilapidated watercraft were moored along the canal. Zawadi swam across the water to a walkway of wooden planks. As Andie climbed out, a flash of movement startled her, but it was only a crab scuttling through a pile of fish guts.
Zawadi hurried down the splintered planks, stopping when she reached two of the larger fishing boats shielding a pair of objects that resembled large foot scooters. The odd contraptions were standing upright and floating atop the water, attached to the sides of the boats with metal clamps.
“What are those?” Cal asked.
Zawadi pressed a button on one of the clamps, causing it to release in her hand. “Modified hydroboards.” She stuck the clamp onto the long steering stem of the strange vessel, where it attached like a magnet. Another button between the handlebars caused a quiet motor to erupt underwater, beneath the foot platform.
She passed the hydroboard to Andie. “We can’t all fit on mine.”
Andie’s eyes widened. “I . . . I’ll do my best.”
“It requires some balance, but you’ll get the hang of it. Faster now. We have to escape the city.”
As Zawadi held the stems of both hydroboards upright, Andie grimaced and stepped onto the one Zawadi had given her, grasping the handlebars with both hands. When Zawadi let go, Andie wobbled and fell over. The engine kicked off and the hydroboard bobbed in the water.
“Hold it upright,” Zawadi said quickly, “start the motor, and climb on with a knee to start. It brakes and throttles like a motorcycle. Have you ridden before?”
“Plenty.”
“Good. The engine’s electric and decelerates as soon as you ease off the throttle.”
Andie fell again, and she wanted to scream in frustration. Zawadi cast an anxious glance down the canal.
C’mon, girl. You can do this. You have to do this.
At last Andie found her balance and moved precariously into the main canal, wobbling but not toppling over. As Zawadi had said, the throttle worked by torquing the handlebars, and Andie felt comfortable with that.
Zawadi swooped in beside her, Cal hanging on to her waist. “Follow me.”
“Where to?” Andie said.
“To the Ponte dell’Accademia, and then to the mainland.”
“This thing will go all the way across the lagoon?”
“Oh, yes. And if you fall off, don’t panic. Just find the board and climb back on.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Zawadi flashed a tight smile.
They followed the canal for some way, ducking beneath three arched stone bridges and a tangle of low-hanging laundry lines before reaching a plaza surrounded by canals and anchored by a hulking marble church. The side canals were empty, and only a few stragglers roamed the city streets. Before long, the expanse of the Grand Canal loomed ahead. Andie glanced over to find Cal leaning on Zawadi’s back for support. As they entered the huge channel dissecting the city, Andie felt as if she were starting to get the hang of the hydroboard—right until she almost ran into a gondola slinking through the water. To avoid it, she veered sharply to her right, and the sudden change in direction caused her to fall off.
Salty water filled her mouth and clogged her nose. Choking, she spit it out and desperately tried to find her hydroboard as salt stung her eyes. The board was bobbing a dozen feet away, and Zawadi zoomed over to hold it in place. Cal urged Andie to hurry as the gondolier gawked.
Shaken from the fall, Andie managed to reclaim her balance and speed back into the canal. A couple of small boats plied the water, but there was no sign of pursuit. They reached the base of the Ponte dell’Accademia without further incident, but Andie had never felt so exposed.
“Get the device,” Zawadi said. “We’ll wait here.”
“Won’t the door be locked?”
Zawadi hesitated, then killed the motor and had Cal wait with both boards on the stone steps leading out of the water beside the bridge. Andie followed her across the piazza to the public restroom, where Zawadi used a set of tools in her pack to pick the lock on the door. She accomplished the task much faster than Andie could have.
As Zawadi returned to the bridge, Andie entered the restroom, her stomach bottoming when she entered the third stall. What if the toilet had clogged and someone had found the Star Phone? What if it had slipped off and was ruined?
She held her breath as she eased the lid off, sagging with relief when she saw the device sitting right where she had left it. She grabbed it, she replaced the toilet lid, and hurried back to the others.
Zawadi was waiting by the steps down to the water. Andie cringed as the other woman moved toward her, wondering if she would take the phone and turn the stun gun on Andie and Cal. Instead Zawadi tossed her a canvas pouch with a strong seal. “Waterproof,” Zawadi said.
“Thanks,” Andie said, sealing the phone inside.
Zawadi waded into the water and climbed onto her board. Andie followed suit, and they returned to the Grand Canal, racing back the way they had come. She had thought they would continue past Piazza San Marco, but as she recalled the maps of the city, she realized the fastest way to reach the mainland was to follow the Grand Canal back into the heart of Venice and cut north on one of the smaller canals, which the vaporetti and other large boats couldn’t navigate.
It was smooth riding until a pair of sleek powerboats with searchlights swung into the canal behind them. A powerful white beam hovered right on them, causing Zawadi to utter a rash of harsh syllables in a foreign language.
Andie was right beside her, squinting in the bright illumination. “You’re sure it’s them, and not the police?”
“The police would have sirens and strobe lights, and they’ve likely been paid to stay away. Follow me.”
Zawadi cut sharply to the right, on a direct path to the shore. Andie executed the same maneuver and felt the board give way beneath her. In a panic, she fought to keep the hydroboard upright. It wobbled, but she clenched her thighs against the stem and barely hung on. The searchlights cut off, but the sound of the engines b
ehind them increased. A shiver of fear whisked through Andie when she looked back and saw the powerboats closing in. Multiple figures stood along the sides of the boats.
Right before they reached the edge of the canal, Zawadi shouted, “Get ready. We’re porting the boards.”
“What do you mean?”
Zawadi killed the engine at the last moment, pitching Cal into the water as she almost slammed into the stone wall at the base of another bridge. She helped him ashore, then lifted the hydroboard. Andie landed with far less grace, and Zawadi helped her out of the water while Cal picked up her hydroboard.
Soaking and exhausted, their shoes slapping on the worn paving stones of Venice, they followed Zawadi down a succession of silent streets, running across footbridges spanning fingerlike canals and through empty moonlit piazzas.
“Are we hiding somewhere?” Andie asked.
“I told you, we must leave the city. It’s too dangerous.”
“Where are we going?”
“The same place as before. I’ve already arranged transport.”
When they reached a canal lined with shuttered trattorias, Zawadi set her hydroboard in the water and jumped on. Cal put Andie’s board down and climbed on behind Zawadi, with a backward glance as they sped off to make sure Andie was keeping up.
Clutching the handlebars, Andie worked hard to follow as she darted through a mazelike series of canals, deeper and deeper into the city, before emerging on a larger channel with lights hovering in the distance. Zawadi whipped to the right and accelerated. Soon the shadow of a body of water appeared at the end of the waterway.
The wind whipped into Andie’s wet clothes and hair as she urged the hydroboard onward, tracking Zawadi as she zoomed past a marina and into the choppier waters of the Venetian lagoon. Andie almost lost her balance again, but this time she clamped her thighs against the stem as soon as she started to tilt.
Soon after they entered the lagoon, the whine of a powerboat sounded in the distance, followed by another. She knew the mainland was a few miles away. As speedy as the little hydroboards were, Andie knew the powerboats would quickly overtake them in open water.
They would never make it in time.
Yet Zawadi kept going, heading straight into the lagoon. Bobbing searchlights appeared on their left, still some distance away, as the first powerboat rounded the head of the island. They’re going to catch us, Andie wanted to scream.
A huge shadow materialized in the darkness ahead of them, growing larger and larger. It couldn’t possibly be the mainland yet. Nor did Andie think they were close enough to Murano, a small island renowned for artisanal glassmaking, just north of Venice.
The landmass started to take shape beneath the amber light of the moon. Andie spied the corner of a massive stone wall stretching into the darkness, and the vague, bushy outline of treetops clumped beyond the wall, as if it were enclosed parkland.
It was clear Zawadi was aiming for the gated entrance to the walled compound, a bulwark of stone topped by a statue of an angel and bookended by squat towers. It could have been the entrance to a medieval cathedral.
Zawadi sped onto the boat ramp fronting the entrance, killed the engine, and leaped off the board in one smooth motion. Andie missed the ramp and fell on her side at the edge of the limestone staircase half submerged in the lagoon. She pulled herself onto the steps, slipping on the algae at the bottom, as Cal grabbed her hydroboard. Across the water, the roar of the powerboats drew closer, the searchlight probing the lagoon.
“Where are we?” Andie said, as they hurried toward a tripartite arched entryway cut into the face of the wall. “What’s going on?”
Zawadi put her fingers to her mouth and whistled like a songbird, then handed her stun gun to Andie. “Take this. Just press and hold the button if you need it. It’s water-resistant, but try not to swim with it.”
“Why?” Andie said, reluctantly accepting the device. It was so small it fit in the palm of her hand.
“Because this is where I leave you.”
“Leave us?” Both Andie and Cal stared at her in shock.
“I can’t evade them with the two of you in tow, but you can escape, and I might have a chance on my own. Whatever you do, keep the Star Phone safe.”
“I don’t understand. What are we supposed to do?”
In the darkness on the other side of the arched entrance, through a tunnel of stone, a gate swung open. “A boat is waiting to ferry you to the mainland,” Zawadi said. “I let them know we’re in danger and can’t risk going directly to the launch site. They’ve sent a friend to take you to the boat—a monk who lives on the island. A car will carry you to Bologna. If I can, I’ll meet you there.”
The powerboats drew ever closer, three of them now, all with searchlights sweeping the lagoon.
“Bologna?” Andie said. “Who are these people?”
“You can trust them! Go now! Inside the gates before you’re seen!”
Zawadi set her board in the water and raced back into the lagoon. She angled north, away from the stone walls and toward the mainland. The woman was extremely resourceful, but what chance did she have on a floating skateboard against three powerboats loaded with weapons? Andie sucked in a breath, confused and sick with worry.
Cal spoke in a harsh whisper. “We have to go!”
He was halfway to the iron gate. Andie ran to catch up. Once she got close to the archway, she was finally able to make out what lay on the other side of the wall. Clumps of cypress dotted the islet, but instead of encountering a city park with graceful paths and hedges, Andie found herself staring at a sea of white tombs, an island cemetery stretching as far into the moonlight as she could see.
29
On the other side of the archway, a man dressed in a monk’s brown cassock was waiting for them, holding the iron gate open. A voluminous hood shielded his face from view.
Cal hurried through with the hydroboard. Despite the danger driving them onward, Andie hesitated as the waters of the lagoon lapped against the steps behind her. What if nothing but a fresh grave awaited them inside the cemetery? What if Zawadi had switched the Star Phone with a fake, led them into a trap, and was speeding away to safety?
What if? What if? What if?
At some point in her life, Andie knew she had to learn how to trust. It didn’t help that her own mother had just betrayed her. Or had she? On some level, yes, she had lured Andie to Venice and handed her over to the Archon. But Andie did not believe, could not believe that her mother was acting under her own free will.
What strange hold did the Archon have on her? Or perhaps her mother truly thought the only way to save her daughter was to bring the Star Phone to the Ascendants.
More than ever, Andie was determined to see this through. If Zawadi was truly on their side, and if they made it to Bologna, then somehow, some way, Andie was going to continue searching for the Enneagon. She knew she could use it to bargain for Dr. Corwin and her mother. She might not find it, she might die along the way, but either option was preferable to living her life without trying to help the ones she loved.
Cal’s rough whisper cut through her thoughts. “Andie! Come on!”
A final glance at the lagoon revealed the lights of the powerboats swinging north, veering away from the cemetery. Clenching her fists, she turned to follow Cal through the gate. The man in the cassock secured the lock behind them, then headed down a wide path leading through an orderly section of tombstones covered in flowers. A copse of trees obscured the area to their left from view. The silence of the darkened grove made Andie nervous.
The monk waved them forward, pressing ahead at a fast clip.
“Have any of these people heard of a meet-and-greet?” Cal muttered as they hurried after him.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Starving, exhausted, and made of rubber.”
“The adrenaline’s wearing off?”
“Yeah.”
“Hang in there.”
“Not much of a choice.”
“Want me to carry the board?”
“I’m good for now.”
She walked beside him as they cut straight through the heart of the cemetery. The air smelled of sea and stone and fresh flowers. The man in the cassock was not using a light, and the gloom deepened as they entered a more wooded section. Tombs of all shapes and sizes filled the gaps between the foliage, accented by crosses, memorials, and statues of angels and weeping saints. When they angled toward the wall on their right, the fresh flowers on the graves had disappeared, the undergrowth was unkempt, and headstones leaned to the side in the tall grass.
The buzz of a cell phone broke the silence, coming from within their guide’s cassock. He was a few feet ahead of them, and without stopping, he reached into the cassock to quiet the phone. As he did, Andie noticed something in the moonlight that made her blood run cold and her knees feel watery.
When the monk had reached for his cell phone, she had caught a glimpse of his right hand, and it sparked a memory that stretched all the way back to the night in Durham when a man with a gun had appeared at her house.
The man in the brown cassock, the man supposedly leading them to safety, was missing a pinky.
She studied his form in the darkness. He had the right build and the same predatory walk as the intruder she had seen in Durham and then the catacombs. If she got this wrong, it could be disastrous. But what were the odds that someone else had the same disfigurement? Her mother had called him Omer. It had to be him.
And Andie had to act on the knowledge.
She dared not whisper or even gesture to Cal. Every now and then, their guide turned to make sure they were with him. If he suspected an attack, then they were doomed. Maybe they were already. But she had to try something before they reached their destination, and she had to do it fast.
Why had he not just shot them? She guessed he was tasked with bringing them back and had somehow learned of Zawadi’s plan. Maybe he had arrived on a hydroboard himself or hidden in the cemetery before it closed. Maybe a boat still awaited Andie and Cal, and a monk had indeed been supposed to meet them, and Omer had ambushed him to get close enough to the boat with Andie and Cal in order to fool whoever was waiting to take them to safety.