by Ros Baxter
I wasn’t taking any chances.
I rummaged quickly in my pockets and pulled out a tiny package, motioning to Doug.
“You got yours?”
Doug looked at me, and the tiny ear plugs in my hands. “They got you spooked, huh?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I got mine.” He indicated the center console with his head.
Doug used the moment when my eyes were cast down, fiddling with the package and extracting the plugs, to touch my hand softly. “Sheriff, I tried to tell you this before, you know, that night. And I’m worried if I don’t do it soon, I might miss my chance.”
Uh-oh. Sentences that begin like that are never good.
I sneaked a quick look at that patrician face and it was soft and serious.
“I worry about you. And not just ‘cause you do some damn crazy things.”
He smiled. I smiled. Okay, so it wasn’t love talk.
I felt a cool blast of relief, and kept fiddling with the plugs so neither of us had to be embarrassed about the intimate turn the conversation had taken.
“You see, I never told you this. But you remind me of my sister.”
My head snapped up to meet his eyes. Double uh-oh. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“I don’t.” His face was hard, and it took me a moment to register his meaning. When I did, I took his hand, and the electricity shooting between us was more than comfort.
“Yeah, she’s dead. She was my twin. And she was a lot like you.”
Triple uh-oh. I didn’t want to be some sister replacement. Some dead sister replacement.
I tried to make it look like I needed my hand to extract the plugs.
“Don’t look like that.” He laughed, breaking the tension of the moment. “She didn’t look like you. Or shoot like you. Or drink like you. She was… sweet.”
“Um, should I be insulted right about now?”
“No way, Sheriff. It was her… spirit, I guess, that was like you. She was brave, like you.” I smiled. “But she did some really stupid things.” I waited for the like you before deciding he was gonna leave it unspoken. “And she had real bad taste in guys.” I didn’t need the third like you. “And she ended up following one of them too far.” Doug’s voice broke, and he retrieved his hand from mine and rubbed it across his eyes, shaking his head. “I knew he was bad news. Goddammit, I knew it. Tried to tell her. But she was so damn independent.” The way he said it made it sound like a really bad thing.
I covered his hand again.
“After it happened, that’s when Mom started to… Well, Ma’s never been the same. I coulda helped her. Jessie, I mean. That was her name. But she never wanted me to. Never wanted to need anyone. Crazy little thing. From the time she was five or six, she always said I can do it by myself, Dougie.” I smiled at his pretty neat impression of a little girl. “Just like that. By. My. Self.” He squeezed my hand. “I want to help, Rania. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
He reached out and touched the side of my face and he was so darkly beautiful and good and kind I just wanted to melt into him. I wanted to say yes, I do need some help and maybe not just with this thing right now but maybe with everything. Maybe with my whole crazy life.
But something stopped me. Something told me it wasn’t right. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I was buying some time to think about what to say by fitting my plugs and fishing in the console to retrieve Doug’s plugs for him when it happened. I didn’t feel or hear anything, but Doug’s head suddenly snapped back like he’d been pistol whipped. His hands flew off the steering wheel and onto his ears, and then the van was a careening, spinning mass of metal and sound. It crashed off the narrow road and into the shallow ditch, rolling as it collected a barrier.
Despite the rolling, I unhooked my belt and clambered across into Doug’s seat to ram the little pieces of plastic into his ears. But I couldn’t get purchase. I kept sliding off him, and then we made contact with the ground and both went sprawling. Doug’s head smacked into the windscreen, leaving an angry red splatter mark, and the plugs went flying.
I knew there was no point calling an ambulance, or other emergency. I knew I could get him to help faster. My adrenalin was working overtime. We’ve already established that I’m strong but really, any other time and I’d have even impressed myself with how I managed to pull Doug from the van, tip it back up the right way and get us all going in no time at all.
The muscles in my arms were on a low burn, but all I could think was faster faster faster.
I drove Doug’s half-dead van at lightning speed. The attack took place about 20 minutes from home, and I had to watch him writhing in agony as I careened down the highway like a madwoman. I managed to get the plugs in his ears, but it didn’t stop the pain. His pretty face was tight and twisted, like it was made of play doh and some kid just mashed their fist into it.
I knew what he was going through. Except both times it had happened to me the sound had been blocked pretty quickly, maybe within seconds. Doug must have been on the receiving end of a good five minutes of agony before I got the plugs in his ears. I had no idea what that kind of pain could do to you, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.
Doug didn’t want me to take him to the hospital. He communicated that through a series of tortured groans.
But really, he was in no position to argue.
Chapter Eleven
Guilt and (More) Larceny
Dirtwater Memorial Hospital
There wasn’t much going on when I pushed through the swing doors with Doug over my shoulder, screaming for some morphine. Mary Peterson was staffing reception and she took one look at my face and went ashen. I wondered if maybe I had my crazy eyes on again.
She screamed into the phone for back-up as she helped me unload Doug onto a gurney.
Doug was screaming too, keening like some wounded beast.
They only have junior medical staff at the hospital. They usually call Larry in for back-up from the Coroner’s Office if things get too messy, or else radio for help from Jonesville, the nearest town. But I’d already called ahead, and Larry arrived just as Mary and I were settling Doug on the gurney. Larry is the best doctor I know, and he also had a head start with this stuff.
He whisked Doug off to the little tending area behind reception, Mary in his wake. I started to push through after them, but Larry’s face was firm as he commanded me to wait.
Sweet Ran, I couldn’t believe it. I was beating myself five kinds of black and blue as I waited in the white, white corridors of the Dirtwater Memorial Hospital for them to come back and tell me what was going on.
Doug, sweet Doug. So brave and good, through all his bluff and bluster.
Doug and his dog. Doug and his brownies. Doug and his sister.
I could hear low moaning coming from the other side of the floor. I really needed some more information, and if someone didn’t come and talk to me soon, I was gonna go kick down some doors to get it. I was shit scared for Doug, but I was also worried sick about where whoever did this to him might be headed next. Specifically, I was fretting about my Mom.
I kept thinking about The Link’s words, “you and your Mom”.
And about how they had followed Cleedaline. And me.
I was trying to block the guilt that tasted sweet and sticky in my throat, even though I kept hearing Doug’s words about how when people do bad things, they’re doing them to us all.
I wanted to say to Doug: You’re wrong. This has nothing to do with you, it’s all about Aegira. It wasn’t your fight. I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry.
I’d resolved to go hit Larry up for some intel when he reappeared, looking serious and tired. He’s still so handsome, I thought, as I watched, suddenly paralyzed, as he came towards me. His grey hair adds this distinguished edge to his twinkly face, and watching him like this, I could imagine a thousand duty nurses falling for him every day, on every shift. As inappropriate as it was, I suddenly wondered why he
was the only man in town who’d never come calling on Mom. I couldn’t speak as he came to me and picked up my hand, staring into my mute face.
“It’s bad,” he confirmed. “Not as bad as the girl. He’s alive. Though truthfully, Rania, I’m not sure how. Any other man’d be dead. We might still lose him.” Beautiful Larry, not pulling any punches. He knew I’d pull one on him if he did. “He’s in some kind of coma now.”
“What can you do for him?” My stomach lurched sickly at Larry’s words, and a white-hot hole was burning in my vision. I had to work really hard to stay focused. I wanted to go house to house through Aegira, wrench out the inhabitants and beat the truth from them. Because one of them was intent on hurting people I love. As I asked Larry the question, I was shredding a paper cup in my hands, tearing the rim from the lip like it was made of tissue paper.
“Pretty much pain relief only. And he’s in a lot of pain. I’m almost certain we aren’t getting it all. But we’re helping a bit. I have no idea what else to do, and I’m almost certain there’s no science or medicine we’ve got that can fix what’s been done to his ears, and through them, to his brain, to his central nervous system. He’s been fried.”
I tried to swallow the sticky-sweet stuff choking my mouth, and dulling my brain. I knew I couldn’t afford the luxury of being dull right now. I had to get to work, protect the others from this thing, make sure this didn’t happen again. But it was just so damn hard to see, to focus.
I should have a better lead on this by now.
Zorax must be the baddy, he had Imogen’s locket. Which meant if Carragheen really did help him, then Carragheen couldn’t be trusted. By the Goddess Mother, had I just been blinded by instinct, and chemistry? Was Doug lying there, ruined, because I got the hots for some lying merman? I rubbed my face with my hands, roughly, and noticed, for the first time, the tears.
Ran help me, please not Doug. What if I was wrong to end things with him, last year? What if I was meant to be with him all along? What if he was the one from my dreams?
I didn’t have any answers, but the cop in me was already starting to calibrate my plan.
And so far, it was this. I was gonna get these assholes, if it was the last thing I did.
“Larry, I’m gonna have to go. I can’t explain…”
“You don’t need to, Rania. Go. Go find these a-holes. I’ll take care of Doug.” He gave me a quick hug, and I could have melted into the solid, reassuring strength of him. “One more thing. I know you probably haven’t thought about this. But we’re gonna need a cover story here. Have you thought about anything to say?”
I shook my head, lost, mute. I didn’t have a clue.
“Okay, well I’m just gonna put it out there that you picked him up from the city, where he was helping out with some new weapons testing stuff, okay? People know he’s into some secret shit. I’ll do it low key, you know, like it’s secret and shouldn’t be passed on. That’ll guarantee everyone knows about it by tomorrow.” He laughed, a dry, humorless sound.
“Thanks Larry,” I shrugged, finally locating my vocal chords.
He smiled thinly and waved at me to go.
I pushed through the doors and looked at Doug’s half-dead van. I was really going to attract way too much attention in that. A low, cross barking reminded me that Benito was still inside the injured wreck. I scanned the parking lot, and saw Mary’s little sedan parked sedately in the “staff only” section. It was a matter of seconds before Benito and I were cruising back into town in it, sending up a tiny prayer to Ran for Mary’s understanding. I knew Larry’d put two and two together and sort out what she needed to get home, but man, I hoped she wasn’t allergic to dog hair. Benito was shedding like there was no tomorrow.
As I burned down the highway, I saw the Children of the Apocalypse gathered mutely by the roadside, dressed in simple white cotton gowns and holding hands and a series of placards. Among the predictable ones — The End is Nigh, Repent etc — was one that caught my eye.
Make it Right, it said.
I headed straight for home, pulling in around back in case Mary had already noticed her girl was missing and sent up the alarm. When I reached the living room, I found Mom sorting through papers in a hurried whirl, and I could tell she was in planning mode. I wondered what was going down.
“Mom, I’m home. Everything okay here?”
She spun in her seat, surprised to see me. Man, she really did need this dog. She doesn’t hear anything when she’s in the zone.
“Ransha, my love. Hello. Yes, all’s fine. But we need to talk.”
I saw her take in the defeat in my face, and maybe some of the fear and rage too. I can never get anything past Mom. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“Doug,” I croaked, hurling myself into her arms and spitting out the story and with it all of my pent-up fury and impotence.
She smelled good, and for a few seconds I felt safe, like somehow I’d turned the clock back a few days, and life was as uncomplicated as the Children of the Apocalypse, eating brownies and fretting about the prophecy.
When I was finished, she pulled my face up to hers.
“Listen, Ransha, my brave one,” she started.
“I’m not brave,” I insisted, still sniffling like a little girl.
“Oh, but you are,” she laughed her musical tinkle. “You always were. And I don’t mean your strength. It’s your fighting spirit. When you were five, you ran and told the teacher when the boys were pushing little Janie Mackenzie around in the playground, remember?”
I sniffed again. “After I beat them up.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But you told Mrs Abbott too. To make sure they couldn’t do it again, even if you weren’t there. And you were the one who bound your breasts and outswam all the others, remember? You’ve always fought for people, Ransha. And you know what?”
I shook my head.
“Doug’s like that too. You think this is your battle, because it’s about your home. Because you’re fighting for people you love. Did you ever think that maybe that makes it Doug’s battle too? Because he loves you?”
I was about to disagree violently, when Mom interrupted.
“Now I know you two aren’t that way anymore, but he still loves you. You don’t question him, you just like him. I think he’s been missing that these last few years.”
I shook my head again. How did she know everything?
I started to get what she was saying, but if she thought it was going to stop me blaming myself, hating myself, or seeking cruel revenge, she was wrong.
“You mustn’t think Doug didn’t know what he was doing. He’d seen it firsthand, and it still didn’t stop him. And I bet he’s jumped into fights to help a pal in less noble circumstances.”
I laughed in agreement. I’d seen Doug get drawn into barfights when one of his buddies had gone down. The Special Forces code. Some macho crap, but still, kind of reassuring.
“Loving people makes us vulnerable, it draws us into fights that aren’t ours, sometimes. And sometimes, it just makes us realize that fights belong to all of us, when there’s an aggressor, and a victim. It’s what makes us human.”
“And fish,” I added.
She laughed again, and somewhere inside me the weight of responsibility lightened a little. Not totally, and don’t get me wrong, I was still planning five thousand ways to murder the guys who hurt Doug, but enough so I could breathe.
Was there nothing this woman couldn’t do?
I suddenly became aware of something wet and sticky in my palm. I looked down, and saw Benito’s muzzle slobbering on my open hand. Mom took a moment to register the huge, drooling canine smiling up at her from the most comfortable spot on her beautiful Turkish rug.
“Darling, what is that?” She was looking Zen, but I could tell she wasn’t so impressed.
“Um, not sure what breed he is, but he’s for you,” I started. “His name’s Benito.”
“Like Mussolini?” Need she ask?
&n
bsp; “Uh-huh,” I confirmed. “Look, he’s a guard dog. A really good one. And even better, he’s trained for the hearing impaired. He’s a really good listener.”
Given what I’d just told her about what happened, Mom could see where I was going with this, and I could tell she was wavering, so I exploited her moment of weakness.
“Doug got him for you. Thought he might help keep you safe.”
“Okay, then,” she sighed, patting her lap and encouraging the huge dog to jump onto it. “Welcome, Benito,” she said, touching his eyelids in the ancient Aegiran greeting. And then, thoughtfully, “But what are we going to do with you when we go back? Last I heard dogs can’t hydroport. And they certainly can’t breathe water.”
Did I hear right? Why did Mom think she was going back to Aegira? I mean, I definitely needed to go back, but there was no reason she needed to. Mom needed to stay a million miles away from there. Just run this town and stick close to Benito.
“That’s what I was about to tell you, Ransha,” she started softly. “A herald came again. The Queen wants me back. She’s having a meeting. She wants me there.”
I sighed. Great.
No way would Mom ever refuse a herald. Let alone one from Imd herself.
“Mom,” I started. But where do I start? Someone’s tried to kill me three times now?
“Don’t Mom me,” she berated me gently. “There is no question about this. I am going. Even if it hadn’t been for the herald, I would not let you go there alone.”
“When?”
Even though the sick agony of my nicotine withdrawal and the soft bruise of my raw guilt were messing with my capacity to think, I tried to work out what I needed to do before heading back. See Aldus. Call Dad. Check on Doug.