Fantastical Island (Old School Book 2)

by Jenny Schwartz

  “Iovanius!” Corey shouted. “We need you.”

  The ghost rematerialized on the hood of the pickup.

  Instinctively, Corey hit the brakes. Then swore. “…with damn bombs in the back.”

  But they hadn’t been blown sky high. Naomi remembered to breathe.

  “What do you need from me?” Iovanius floated through the windscreen. The spookiness of this night just kept getting spookier.

  “Back-up,” Corey said tersely, accelerating again before parking out of sight behind the lighthouse.

  The storm, and cleaning up after it, had distracted people from curiosity about the supposed mothman. There was no one at the lighthouse and no one had turned on its light for the tourists.

  Corey climbed into the back of the pickup to fiddle with his bombs and drone.

  Naomi took her night vision goggles—brought to the island to help her track fantastical creatures—and walked to the edge of the headland. Had it been only last night that she’d climbed up that terrifyingly steep cliff in a howling storm? Looking at it now, she didn’t know how she and Corey had done it.

  She adjusted the goggles and peered into the darkness.

  The Buccaneer was anchored where she’d last seen it. A dinghy was secured behind it. Movement on the deck brought her attention swinging back to the bigger boat.

  Roy. He had to be the dark figure moving around.

  Corey had been right in his guesses. Roy had retreated to the familiarity of his own boat. Getting there, via the busy harbor filled with people intent on post-storm repairs and celebrations, had taken time. Then he’d had to check the Buccaneer—after all, lightning had struck it—and ready her to set sail. And if he’d brought Janelle with him, he’d also had to get her aboard and change her bandage. He was probably only now preparing the Buccaneer to sail.

  “Are they on the boat?” Corey came up beside her.

  “Roy is.” She took off the goggles. Maybe if he saw for himself the human part of his target, he would remember why bombing anything wasn’t him. “I haven’t seen Janelle.”

  Corey put the drone and its explosive cargo down on the grass. He fitted her goggles and peered into the night. “Huh.” Then, less promisingly. “Stand back.”

  Naomi retreated to the lighthouse, backing up the last couple of steps to feel its solid curving wall against her shoulders as the drone lifted up, a smudge of darkness in the clouded, starlit sky. But she was more intent on Corey’s silhouette as he stood at the edge of the cliff.

  Please, he can’t do this. Not the man she loved.

  Corey was intelligent. He had to know in some sane, unvengeful part of him, that losing the Buccaneer wouldn’t stop Roy leaving the island. After all, with the Second Chance, he and Janelle had already proven their willingness to steal a boat. Then there were the ferries or a plane flight or simply stowing away on a private boat. There were plenty of ways off the island.

  As much as anything else, it was Corey’s sense of justice that had been outraged. He had overlooked Roy and Janelle’s actions against him and those he loved in order to save his kidnappers from the nengaal, and they had repaid him by sneaking away. They sought to avoid the consequences of their actions.

  Naomi didn’t think that was possible. This Svenson they seemed scared of would be after them—perhaps they had taken money in advance of trapping Poppy? Then there was the government’s magical terrorism unit. And what about karma? She believed in karma.

  She and Corey hadn’t rescued Janelle and Roy from the nengaal just to bomb their boat. Explosions, ones that couldn’t be precisely controlled, were reckless to the point of fatal.

  Her fists stretched the seams of her pockets, she’d pushed them so hard.

  What would she do if her faith in Corey was misplaced? What if—

  His silhouette twitched. The direction of his head changed. His arms moved.

  “One, two, three,…” she counted to seven.

  A muffled explosion sent water spraying high enough that she glimpsed the starlit silver of it.

  Corey remained at the cliff edge. There was no second explosion. Either he’d changed his mind about the second bomb, or he’d dropped the two together. It had been a big explosion.

  A tear ran down Naomi’s face, chilling in the night air.

  The drone whined as it landed in the grass. It had survived the explosion, dropping its bombs and heading back.

  Corey shoved the goggles to the top of his head, picked up the drone, and walked to her. “I dropped the bombs in open water.”

  She didn’t answer. Just ran on wobbly legs and hugged him.

  He dropped the drone and its controls and dragged her in tight. “You knew I wouldn’t do it.”

  “I didn’t think you could.” Not the man she believed him to be.

  He sucked in a harsh breath. “They’ll get away.”

  “Maybe. Probably not.” And in a rush of honesty. “I don’t care as long as they don’t come back, and I don’t think they will. The nengaal…”

  Even Janelle had been terrified of the nengaal.

  Poppy trotted around the circular wall of the lighthouse, too late to be of any use.

  Corey acknowledged her. “Hey, Poppy.”

  The baku raised her trunk in greeting, tapped his knee, but didn’t stop. She cut across the grass to where Iovanius floated by the cliff edge. A tiny, shrill trumpet demanded the ghost’s attention.

  Corey’s arms relaxed around Naomi. They both watched Poppy curiously.

  Iovanius turned and sank down to Poppy, obeying the imperious trumpet call. Poppy extended her trunk till she touched his ghostly hand. Iovanius began to glow brighter and brighter. The other night Otis had managed to channel some paranormal energy to the ghost, but Poppy flooded him.

  Perhaps she also gave him an order because the ghost zoomed suddenly from the clifftop out over the ocean.

  Naomi and Corey ran forward, stopping near Poppy. He stooped and touched the baku’s head. “What did you do?”

  She ignored him. Poppy’s attention was on Iovanius.

  Naomi’s was, too. “He’s reached the Buccaneer. That’s beyond his half-mile range from the gladius.” She glanced at Poppy. The baku had changed things. “Whoa!” Naomi stepped back from the cliff edge in shock.

  Iovanius had zoomed up from the Buccaneer and he dragged two people with him. Within seconds, Iovanius floated on the grass beside the lighthouse. Janelle and Roy sprawled inelegantly either side of him.

  Poppy approached Roy first. Her trunk tapped him firmly on the forehead, just once, before she looked at Iovanius.

  The look had to be an order. Iovanius instantly grasped Roy and towed him back out over the ocean, presumably to the Buccaneer.

  Janelle scrambled backwards, scooting on her butt, digging her heels into the grass. It should have looked ridiculous: the house-cat-sized baku stalking the woman. Instead, it was ominous.

  “No, no, no, NO!”

  Poppy pounced. Her trunk tapped Janelle on the forehead.

  Janelle sagged. The fury and terror that had held her body rigid vanished.

  Poppy retreated. She bumped Corey’s legs and he picked her up. Her trunk wound around his wrist as he cuddled her. She looked sad. Her cute yet odd elephant ears drooped.

  “You wiped their minds,” Naomi whispered, horrified, as she guessed the truth. “How much have they lost? Do they know who they are?”

  Iovanius returned, still glowing, but not as brightly. He hovered behind Janelle, who didn’t appear to notice his glow. She stared at nothing, one hand covering the shoulder of her jacket, under which was her wound.

  “Justice and mercy aren’t as easily disentangled as you believed,” Iovanius said.

  Corey looked down at the baku in his arms. “But Poppy, if you could do this…?” Why had they had to fight, and then, rescue Janelle and Roy? Why hadn’t Poppy intervened earlier?

  There was no answer from Poppy.

  Corey passed her across to Naomi, who h
ad doubts about cuddling something so dangerous, so powerful.

  The baku snuffled her hand gently. It felt like an attempt to reassure Naomi.

  I wouldn’t blame a snake for striking or a bear for mauling. She held Poppy more firmly, closer to her. She wanted a life with Corey and that included the baku. Poppy was part of his family. If Janelle and Otis were right, Poppy would appear often to play with their children. She would protect them.

  “Oh, Poppy.” Naomi thought she understood. To Poppy, Corey was a child. The baku had allowed him to fight evil, to learn himself and test his moral code, but in the end, she would protect her family. “Thank you,” Naomi murmured.

  “Janelle?” Corey crouched in front of the dazed woman. “Do you know your name?”

  She looked at him. “Janelle Smith.”

  “Good.” He paused. “Is your shoulder sore?”

  “It hurts.”

  “Do you remember what happened to it?”

  Janelle shook her head.

  “You need medical treatment,” Corey said firmly. He glanced at Iovanius.

  The ghost waved both arms in a negating gesture. “No. My orders are to return her to the boat.”

  Naomi stayed where she was, a few feet away, but she joined the conversation. If Poppy maintained her glamour, Janelle would probably think Naomi held a cat or small dog. “Janelle, why are you on Catalina Island?”

  “To collect fantastical creatures.”

  “And what is the creature you most want to capture?” Naomi persisted. It was eerie speaking with Janelle like this.

  Usually, the woman radiated energy and determination. Now, Poppy’s magic, and possibly exhaustion and shock, dulled Janelle to listlessness and confession. “We want to capture a roc pair, but Roy isn’t sure how we can reach the nest.”

  Janelle had forgotten her driving obsession with capturing a baku.

  Naomi looked at Poppy. “There’ll be phone messages, emails, reminders to Janelle and Roy of their plans. You might have wiped her mind, but there are electronic traces.”

  “They won’t understand them,” Iovanius intervened. “The mind block concerning bakus is permanent. Around it, they’ll grow different memories and stories.”

  He sounded so confident, that Corey was suspicious. “Is Poppy communicating with you?”

  Iovanius confirmed it. “She says she can because I’m about to go on.”

  “Oh,” Naomi gasped.

  Iovanius inclined his head in an abbreviated bow. “But I have one last task.” He picked up Janelle in some fashion that held her without gripping any particular part of her body, and zoomed to the Buccaneer.

  Naomi and Corey spun to watch the brief flight.

  When he returned, Iovanius zoomed past them to the pickup. He collected his gladius and brought it to them.

  “Just metal.” Iovanius turned the short sword over and over in his hands. “Two thousand years sulking because I didn’t have a chance to kill someone.” He turned the sword and presented it hilt first to Corey. “And being a hero was never about death.” Iovanius gave a half laugh. He patted Poppy with a spectral hand. “Thank you.”

  Then he looked at Naomi. “Thank you for your kindness, for forgiving me for not playing a role in rescuing Corey.”

  “There was nothing to forgive.”

  Iovanius’s wry smile said he disagreed. His glow flared again as he focused on Corey.

  Corey held out his hand. Man and ghost shook hands. Apparently, that communicated everything required.

  Iovanius didn’t dematerialize a final time. Instead, he grew blindingly bright, forcing Naomi and Corey to close their eyes. When they opened them, he was gone.

  Poppy wriggled, and Naomi set her on the ground. The baku trotted over to the pickup.

  Corey laughed. “Time to go home.” He sounded tired, happy, and bemused; too many emotions to classify.

  Naomi knew the feeling.

  Arms around each other’s waists, they detoured slightly for him to pick up the drone and her to collect its controls, and then, they joined Poppy in the pickup. The baku rode home between them.

  Epilogue

  “She’s here!”

  “Put it away!”

  Paper and footsteps scuffled. Metal rang. Naomi smiled and called out, “Should I come back later?” She’d accompanied Corey to the mainland and gone shopping for a wow-him new dress for their date tonight, while he caught up on projects at his workshop.

  Apparently, at least one of his projects involved her.

  “No! Stay where you are,” Corey shouted. There was some quick, hurried and low-voiced instructions, then he bounded through to the storefront of the warehouse to meet her. He kissed her quickly, obviously pleased with himself, and reached for her shopping bags.

  She swung them behind her back. “Uh huh. No peeking!”

  They grinned at each other.

  It had been a week since Poppy had mind-wiped Janelle and Roy. The days had been busy ones, starting with the harbormaster sailing out to the Buccaneer that same night, brought there by the bombs Corey had exploded underwater. The harbormaster hadn’t been impressed with Roy and Janelle’s vague answers to his questions about the explosions—although in fairness to them, they couldn’t possibly have known the bombs were Corey’s work. Still, when Roy and Janelle were brought in for questioning, the wound in her shoulder had started further suspicions.

  Interestingly, due to Poppy’s intervention, both Janelle and Roy believed the wound came from a fishing accident. The harbormaster, with decades of experience, wasn’t so sure. He’d called in the mainland authorities, and riding on official police coattails came the magical terrorism unit; specifically two agents who quietly extracted Roy and Janelle.

  It turned out that while Janelle was unknown to them, Roy had quite a record in the illegal wildlife trade, his family having a tradition of hunting and trapping and being none too scrupulous about the law.

  They weren’t, however, known for wanton cruelty, and Naomi believed it. Roy had freed the captive fantastical creatures before leaving the wrecked Second Chance.

  “Do you mind eating lunch on the ferry?” Corey asked her. “I have some things to do on the island.” From the warehouse workshop came giggles and unconvincing coughing fits. Evidently, everyone knew and approved his plans. The laughter lines around his eyes deepened. “Quiet, minions!”

  There was outright laughter, then.

  “Lunch on the ferry is fine,” Naomi said demurely.

  They bought sandwiches and fresh fruit juice and ate on deck. It was wonderful to laze there, the sun bright, the water calm and, in the distance, dolphins?

  The tourists cried out, all craning to see the supposed pod of dolphins. Corey shook his head and nudged Naomi’s shoulder. He pointed just to the west of the dolphins. The sea there shimmered in a circular pattern.

  Her breath caught. “Kraken!” she exclaimed under her breath.

  “Just one,” Corey said. “Tentacles instead of dolphin fins broke the surface. The kraken will have dived already.”

  Still, she looked, eating her sandwiches absently as she scanned the waves. The amulet no longer hung around her neck. Poppy had given her a gift. Naomi could now see through any glamour. Her talent matched Corey’s and it changed her world. She wouldn’t be leaving Catalina Island. This was home and she had work to do. The damage Janelle and Roy had done to the ecosystem that supported the island’s fantastical creatures needed repairing and monitoring. She also had her survey, which was a year’s work in itself.

  A lightning bird flew overhead, ignored by everyone. Thanks to its glamour, they probably saw a gull. Naomi tipped her head back to watch it. She remembered its crack of doom cry during the storm. But no one had died.

  Corey saw the lightning bird, too. “Sometimes a legendary creature is just a bird.”

  He disposed of their trash as the ferry docked, then muttered something about “seeing George”, kissed her, and vanished.

  Naomi w
alked bouncily along the pier, shopping bags slapping against her legs. Otis hailed her, and she spun around.

  Cait stood beside Otis on the deck of his boat, the Haunted Beauty. Even at a distance, the improvement in Cait’s spirits was obvious. She stood alert and moving easily with the boat’s slight rocking.

  Cait and Otis had been sailing for the last two days.

  “See you, tomorrow!” Otis shouted. Apparently, they had yet more sailing planned.

  Naomi smiled and waved; smiled wider as she saw the lightning bird perched on the Haunted Beauty’s mast. Perhaps it wasn’t just that the Madrigal family could see through glamours to the reality of fantastical creatures. Perhaps something in them actually attracted the creatures.

  Not that she intended to ponder the scientific possibilities. Not this afternoon. This afternoon she had Bunyip House to herself.

  Cliff the behemi greeted her return with squeals and flew forward for ear scratches and nonsense crooning. Poppy ceased rolling in the garden bed filled with Californian poppies and trotted to Naomi for her share of petting. Even Jake, the resident ourobui or hoop snake, slithered past Naomi as if in greeting.

  It was good to be home. Now, she had some quality me-time of pampering and primping to indulge in.

  “It’s ridiculous to be this nervous,” Corey told his reflection in the mirror.

  His reflection grimaced as if he was an idiot.

  “Okay, maybe it’s not ridiculous.” He swore under his breath. He was so nervous his hands shook. His hands hadn’t shaken when he’d been kidnapped.

  At least the clothes he wore were right. The suit was the most expensive he owned, yet cut to look casual. Rather than banker-severe, it emanated Hollywood-cool. He’d bought it to wear to those celebrity events he had to attend to network for his business.

  The suit didn’t manage to narrow his wide shoulders, but the cut made him look a little leaner, and hence, taller. Less like a walking brick wall. The salesman who’d sold it to him had also insisted on a shirt of palest sage green, not white. “To match your eyes, man. They’re your best feature.” At that memory, Corey did grin. He checked the pocket of his trousers again before exiting his bedroom.