by Ros Baxter
As Lecanora uttered the words, the boy cried out again, grabbing at his chest and clawing at his stomach. Larry gently pushed Lecanora out of the way and took her place, kneeling beside him. He touched the boy’s chest with the stethoscope. ‘He’s suffocating,’ he said. ‘He’s forgotten how to breathe.’
‘Is there nothing you can do?’ Lecanora appealed to the older man with all the energy of her spirit, imagining the boy’s terror. She knew how hard it was to breathe on Land when you first did it, how you had to remind yourself at first: in, out. In, out. Perhaps, at the end, crazed and dazed, it simply became too hard.
Larry looked quickly at Lunia and Rania. ‘I can euthanize him,’ he said.
Lecanora looked at Rania, not understanding the word.
‘Kill him,’ Rania said. ‘End his suffering.’
Lecanora’s stomach churned and her heart rejected the idea. Then she thought about this boy, so far from home and moments from death; his last, painful moments.
A memory broke through the fuzzy haze of her competing thoughts. She pictured her foster mother’s face as she worked with arriving refugees after the Last Great Influx. She remembered the Queen as she had spoken to Lecanora about some of the things that had happened to the refugees. Lecanora remembered the pain it had caused her mother to contemplate what they had been through, the agony etched on her face.
And she remembered her mother’s words. ‘There are some things worse than death.’
‘Do it,’ she said, feeling her heart squeeze painfully as she did.
Larry reached into his bag and extracted a syringe. Then, he pulled a small vial out and filled the syringe from it. ‘If you have anything you’d like to say, Lecanora,’ he said, ‘now is the time.’
Lecanora moved closer to the young man, smoothing his hair and speaking quietly into his ear. ‘Go well, young one,’ she said, running her fingertips over his eyelids.
Her words hung in the air, and there was the kind of long, loaded silence that meant bad, sad things were afoot. Lecanora could smell it, the smoky, far-off stench of death. And she knew that the other mermaids in the room—Rania and their mother, Lunia—could smell it, too. Death was stalking the boy. Death was coming.
Just like the army the boy spoke of. The soldiers of song.
‘Speed home. And may the seas be gentle with your ship of sleep. In the end, as in the beginning. From water, back to water.’
As the boy breathed his last, Lecanora looked over at Rania and saw her face turn chalky-white before she turned quickly away and left the room.
* * *
‘I’m coming with you.’
Larry’s handsome face was still and serious, the deep lines seeming to accentuate the planes and edges of it, and his expressive green eyes. It fascinated Lecanora, who was used to men far more beautiful, and far more pristine. The way this man carried his body was with a casual ease that spoke of hardship and capability; obstacles overcome. Lecanora felt safer just being near him.
She wanted Rania to say yes.
‘No,’ Rania said. ‘No, Larry. No way. You’ve done enough. You don’t understand. Honestly, buddy. You know some bits, but you have no idea what is going on, what is at stake here. And what might happen, what these people will do.’
‘So tell me,’ the man said. ‘You’ve told me this much.’
‘No,’ Rania said again, setting her mouth in that way that Lecanora knew only too well. The same face Rania had used from the time they’d been children. From the time she’d raced the Spirit of Atla, binding her breasts in defiance of tradition, to the time she had gone to the Seer, determined to get some answers. Something scratched at Lecanora’s brain again as the thought occurred to her. That visit had been just before Rania had fled Aegira. The last time Lecanora had seen her for thirteen years. Until recently.
Larry stood up and stretched, before crouching down again in front of Rania. ‘You know what a deathbed statement is?’
‘Er, no, Larry,’ Rania said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘No idea. I mean, I was only a cop for how long?’
Larry’s mouthed stretched into a thin line. ‘Okay, so you know the sway they have in courts. Why they’re an exception to the rules of hearsay. But do you know why?’
Lecanora watched the interplay between the two friends. Rania’s chin was still jutting determinedly forward; Larry was reaching for one hand and holding it carefully.
Rania shook her head.
‘Because there’s evidence, honey. Really good, really strong, really verifiable evidence that tells us that when people are in their last moments, the truth spills from them. Everyone. People who have spent their lives being the biggest schmucks, the biggest shits the world has ever seen: they know when they’re dying. They look death in the eye and they want to make things right.
‘I don’t know what they see. But I do know I’ve seen them do it, Rania. Seen it a lot. And so have you. You know what I’m saying’s true. Just like what that boy—’ He motioned with his head back to the living room. ‘—like what that boy said is true. Or, at least, the truth as he knew it, even in the state he was in. He said they’re coming for you. You and Lecanora.’
He had been largely speaking to Rania up until that point, but at this he nodded to Lecanora. ‘And your mom and all you care about, and maybe all who know you. He said there are lots of them. That right, Lecanora?’
Lecanora nodded, feeling those prickly goosepimples lace her flesh again.
Larry went on, taking Rania’s hand and covering it with his other hand. ‘He said war is coming. And that you weren’t safe here, and they’re not safe there.’ Larry squeezed Rania’s hand. ‘I know wars, honey,’ he said, his voice soft and scratchy. ‘And you know the one thing I know about them?’
Rania shook her head.
Larry shook his head. ‘You can’t fight them alone.’
‘Fine,’ Rania said, standing up suddenly, her face dark and mutinous. ‘Saddle up, cowboy. We fly out for Boston in the morning, and need to get to Williamstown tonight.’ She sniffed. ‘Right after I see Doug.’
* * *
Lecanora peered through the little glass window, standing slightly to the side and trying not to be seen. Larry was holding the man’s palm, looking at his watch. Rania was pacing up and down beside the bed. Larry kept shaking his head, repeating the gesture with the palm and the watch. As he turned to reach for his stethoscope out of his bag, Lecanora could see he was smiling, the biggest smile she’d seen on the man since she had met him.
As he turned to his bag, she finally got a full view of the man lying on the bed.
As she did, the floor seemed to slide giddily under her. She wondered if her blood sugar was low again, and unwrapped another of the food products Rania had pressed into her hand before she had gone into the hospital room. A Twinkie, Rania had called it. A lovely name, Lecanora decided. She stuffed the tiny cake into her mouth, zeroing in again for a look at the man on the bed. This time the giddy slide was less, but still there.
It was him, she decided. He was having this effect on her.
Strange.
She stood back carefully and took a mental inventory. He was shockingly dark. His face was hard and angular, and even from this distance and with his face rested in sleep she could see two scars on it, and a strange shape to his long nose that indicated a break in his youth. One scar was pale and white, the other fresher and darker. But as well as being hard and bleak, the face was also lush. Full lips were half open as he muttered something in his sleep, rolling slightly and showing off a long throat and a dark beard.
As though he sensed her watching, he turned in her direction in his sleep. Lecanora quickly ducked behind a tall trolley to her right. But she could still see him. Her superb eyesight allowed her a complete view of his face, which was a study of vulnerability in sleep. He was so open to her it momentarily robbed her of the capacity to land-breathe, and she coughed quickly and commanded her brain to engage. A deep cleft in his chin lent him
a childish air.
As she watched, a young woman approached her. She was quite beautiful by Land standards, and she seemed to favor bold colors. A dark red stained her nails, not unlike the blood-tattoos favored by the rebel Leigons, and an even bolder crimson outlined her lips around the edges, although the inside part was lighter, like maybe the color had worn off. Brilliant blue sparkly dust outlined her eyes. Lecanora was quite transfixed by the whole effect.
‘Can I help you?’ the young woman asked, and Lecanora shuddered. Her voice was high and screechy. Lecanora closed her eyes briefly to try to stop her face from reacting with surprise, and her fingers from snaking into her ears.
Lecanora took in the woman’s attire—all white, with a small badge and an official-looking pin adorning her breast. She appeared to be an employee of the hospital. ‘I am with the people in that room,’ she said.
The woman pressed her lips together, like that made sense. Then she sighed. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think you better go in then, honey?’
‘No,’ Lecanora said. ‘But thank you.’
The woman pressed her lips together again, and Lecanora could almost smell her determination. ‘Well, you can’t hang around out here I’m afraid.’
‘So I must enter that room?’
‘Please.’ The woman nodded. She inclined her head towards the man lying on the bed. ‘He’s made a remarkable recovery in the last few hours. He’ll be coming around soon.’
The woman looked at Lecanora carefully, and began to speak more slowly, like she thought maybe Lecanora had difficulties with comprehension. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Let me help you in.’ She hooked her arm through Lecanora’s and guided her to the door.
Lecanora stood still in the doorway as the official left. Rania looked up from the discussion she had been having with Larry.
‘Babe,’ she said. ‘There you are. Come in. Doug’s almost all better. That shit of Rick’s is out of this freakin’ world. We’re just waiting for him to wake up. I want to make sure I’m here when he does. He’s going to be so freaked out.’
Lecanora could not find the right words to answer her sister coherently. She was still reeling from the impact the sleeping Land man had on her. She backed up against the bed, muttering something about needing to get a drink. But before she could escape, a strong hand grabbed her wrist and spun her towards the bed. She found herself face to face with eyes of the deepest brown. A color she could not have imagined even existed, at the bottom of the ocean. But it was more than their color. They were so expressive. She wondered if it was because they had just woken from a coma. They were eyes in which she felt she could read all the pain and courage and fears of a life.
She cleared her throat to try to make the right sounds, in the correct order.
But nothing came.
Because the man of the deep brown eyes and scars, The Land man of the dimpled chin and vulnerable eyes, was looking right at her.
Like he was as surprised as she was by what he saw.
His warm, strong fingers rubbed gently at the underside of her wrist, shooting hot shivers into the coldest parts of her.
He looked well. Very well. Not the broken thing Rania and Larry had described.
‘Doug,’ Rania growled, poking him in the ribs. ‘Say hi, for fuck’s sake, you’ll scare her.’
‘Hi,’ the long brown man said, raising a hand feebly. ‘We’ve met,’ he said. ‘In my dreams.’ He looked over at Rania. ‘Sheriff—you’ve got some explaining to do.’
The man pulled himself up from the bed and pulled out a tube that had been attached to his arm. He yanked Lecanora towards him by her wrist. As strong as he was, Lecanora knew she was stronger than him. She could feel it. She could have resisted easily, without even breaking a sweat. Instead, she let herself be dragged in towards him like a shark to the slaughter. Closer, closer, until her chest was resting almost parallel to his.
She sat there, feeling his warm breath on her face and her cold blood turn red-hot.
‘Very pleased to meet you, Dream Girl,’ he said. ‘Very pleased indeed.’
Chapter 5
Chatting and lullabies
It was raining heavily as Doug worked the gearstick on the Hummer and turned to reverse out of the hospital car park. Rania had pushed Lecanora into the front because she wasn’t communicating with him. In fact, her last words had been, ‘You can ride up front with the stubborn asshole, Princess. ‘Cause I’m not talking to him.’
Lecanora noted that Rania was making a very loud show of such not talking. She jerked and fidgeted in her seat, fiddled with her seatbelt, blew out her breath noisily, shook her hair and generally made lots of noises apparently calculated to show that while she was not speaking to Doug, she was still very annoyed with him indeed.
Lecanora could not say that she cared. In fact, she was glad of Rania’s decision to sit her in the front with this dark newcomer, just as she was glad that Larry and Lunia had gone back to Lunia’s house in Larry’s car. It meant she was riding in the front, and had the chance to observe the strange Land man at close quarters and without the interruption of conversation.
Doug seemed oblivious to Rania’s noisy backseat riding.
‘So, Lecanora,’ he said. ‘Tell me how a nice girl like you got mixed up in all this.’ His big arms worked the shift in a way that made Lecanora shut her eyes a little and imagine how they might feel under her fingers.
She forgot for a moment that he had asked her a question, until he spoke again. ‘Penny for ‘em,’ he said.
Lecanora’s eyes flashed open. ‘Penny?’ she said, trying to feel her way through what he was asking. His eyes flicked over to her as he checked the rear-view and pulled out onto Main Street. She knew from memory that those eyes were dark, darker than any eyes on any man she had ever seen, but in the unlit car they were like midnight, boring into her.
‘For your thoughts,’ he said.
A strange tradition, she thought, struggling to catch up. ‘You wish to pay me to find out what is inside my head?’
He laughed, shaking his head and whistling. ‘Where’d you say she was from again, Sheriff?’ Then he hit the steering wheel with his hand. ‘Whoops, sorry, I forgot. You’re not talking to me.’
Lecanora reached for Rania’s brain. You are behaving like a child, she said into it. Worse; a human child.
Rania mentally stuck out her tongue. Too bad, she said. He should have stayed put. AND he should have let me drive.
Lecanora considered this, understanding that Doug’s refusal to stay in the Healing House was the cause of Rania’s irritation, but trying to unpick why it had caused such annoyance.
Was it because she still cared about this Land man in the way of a lover?
Lecanora turned the possibility over in her mind, feeling an unfamiliar dragging sensation low in her stomach. This time she turned the feeling over in her mind, studying it, holding it up to the light to understand it better. What was it? Her brain, no, her… She groped a little for the source of the discomfort. Her heart. Her heart did not like the thought that Rania might want Doug once again as her lover.
Stranger and stranger.
What was this? Was this jealousy?
Sexual jealousy was something Lecanora knew about intellectually, but did not understand. It was such a foreign notion, one of the things that separated Land and Sea dwellers. Aegira did not run to great passions.
As she considered the thought that Rania may still want Doug as her lover, she almost immediately rejected it.
No.
She had seen Rania and Carragheen. She knew now what great passion, great love, looked like. It looked like Rania with her Aegiran lover.
So what was making Rania so furious?
Lecanora thought back over what Rania had said to her on the way to the Healing House as she had hurried to get to Doug.
I must go to him. This is my fault. He is there because of me.
This train of thought made more sense to Lecanora. It was
Rania’s guilt feeding her overdeveloped sense of responsibility, and her need to be in control. She had fought hard to get back to Doug so she could use Rick’s medicine to make him better.
Now she wanted him to stay in the Healing House, and rest. Somehow Rania felt it would absolve her of responsibility for what had happened to Doug. Rania blamed herself; Lecanora knew that. Doug had been injured so terribly because he had helped her.
‘Don’t you like to chat?’ Doug asked.
The question surprised Lecanora, and she realized that between studying his arms and trying to understand Rania’s motivations, she had failed to answer him.
‘Oh, Doug,’ she said, feeling herself warm under his gaze. ‘I am terribly sorry. I was distracted. Er no, I am not given to frequent bouts of…chattiness.’
‘Well, alright then,’ Doug said, leaning back in his seat and sliding an arm along the back of the chair as though sizing her up. ‘And here I thought you couldn’t get any more attractive.’
Rania’s silence could not last. ‘Since when have you been Mr Chatty, Doug?’
She shot a quick command into Lecanora’s head. Try not to act so…kooky. What’s got into you?
Lecanora felt Rania’s brain scramble to cover Lecanora’s kooky tracks. ‘For your information, Doug,’ Rania said, ‘Lecanora’s from outta town. Outta country, actually. English is her second language. I should have mentioned.’
‘Well now, Sheriff,’ Doug said. ‘And here I thought you just weren’t talking to me.’ He turned to Lecanora and grinned—white teeth and lazy smile making Lecanora feel strangely molten inside. ‘Most peaceful two minutes I’ve ever had with that woman.’
Then he sighed, and flipped the rear-view up so he could look at Rania directly. ‘Okay, Sheriff, come on spit it out. You’re not going to feel better ‘til you’ve had your say. Out with it.’
Lecanora felt Rania fold her arms across her chest—some telepathic communication mirrored actions, when the deliverer felt something strongly enough. Lecanora smiled to herself at Rania’s unconscious tell: her sign of ‘Right then, I’m going to let you have sit.’