We ate our meal in the living room, where Mom’s high-tech hospital bed had been set up. Aunt Sel had thrown herself into the task of taking care of Mom, and Lydia had helped her create a daily calendar and care chart. After all, Lydia had the most experience of any of us in taking care of the victims of “the Dunnsmouth Disease.” Aunt Sel, though, promised the best care money could buy. A nurse was scheduled for every morning and night, a physical therapist would visit every other day, and a Reiki specialist would come every Thursday “to maintain energy flow.” We already had an appointment to drive Mom to see a high-powered neurologist in Boston. It was great to see Aunt Sel so focused on someone other than herself, but there was still something about the elaborate charts that made them a bit about Aunt Sel, too.
After supper, I started to clean up, but Aunt Sel told me my job was take care of the guest of honor. The others went to the kitchen. I hopped to my bedroom, retrieved my backpack, and sat next to Mom.
“I want to show you something,” I told her. I held up the scrimshaw. “See? Your body’s all right. And you’re all right. We just have to put you back together again.” I placed the scrimshaw on her chest, and placed her hand over it. Skin and bone were equally warm.
I’d have to come up with a story to explain the scrimshaw to Aunt Sel. And I’d have to somehow convince her that we absolutely had to stay in Dunnsmouth. Lydia would undoubtedly have some ideas. Maybe I could pit the women against each other.
“Don’t worry,” I told Mom. “We’re scientists. We can figure this out.”
EPILOGUE
The Toadmother lay upon her stone bed, breathing and thinking of food. She could tell by the stains on the floor that parts of her were still bleeding. When she moved, shards of wood and metal shifted painfully beneath her skin. The explosion of the Albatross had turned her into a pincushion. Her dress was ruined.
The swim back to the shore had been exhausting. To add insult to injury, when she’d reached her chambers, all the food buckets were empty, and her chambermaids were nowhere to be found. True, she’d told the girls to stay home until summoned, then had sealed the doors so that she could not be disturbed during the anticipated rituals—but that was before everything had gone wrong and her boys had abandoned her. She’d sent her eldest son to do a simple job—disable a boat, kill a few people, then swim back—and what had happened? He’d disappeared. Then, when she was almost killed herself, where had her youngest son gone? Davy Jones’ Locker, probably. He’d died without even saying goodbye.
Oh, she was so hungry. She’d tried to remember the last time she’d gone this many days without a meal. The only way into her chambers that was still unsealed was the secret passage that led to the sea. She tried to remember if anyone except her sons knew about it. Probably not. That was the problem with secret passages.
If someone didn’t find her soon, though, the consequences were dire. She’d have to get out of bed. She’d have to find food on her own. The thought exhausted her. How had everything gone so wrong? Hundreds of years of waiting, and now two failures within decades of each other, both brought on by the same family—the same mixed-race family! It defied explanation.
A scraping sound came from the direction of the secret tunnel. The chambermaids! The Toadmother pushed herself up to a sitting position.
“Where have you been!” she said. Her voice, now a dry croak, was still loud enough to set the air trembling.
A figure appeared at the tunnel entrance. The man was on all fours—though “all threes” might be more accurate, because one leg was bent at an odd angle and dragging behind.
It was her youngest son. The glossy black mass of the Blood Pilot rode upon his back. Its black tendrils roped around his lower jaw like reins and disappeared into his mouth.
Eston Montooth, principal of Dunnsmouth Secondary, had become the vessel.
“Come to my arms, my boy!” she cried.
Montooth crawled forward, then collapsed on his stomach, moaning. The Toadmother, with new energy, pulled herself from the bed to meet him at the center of the room.
“You brought it back!” she said. “Good job!”
He lifted his face. The Pilot had filled his mouth. It very well could have been breathing for him when he was in the water. It was the only explanation she could think of for his survival; until now Eston had never shown any talent for amphibiousness.
The black inside his mouth trembled. “THIS VESSEL IS NOT EMPTY.”
“Oh,” the Toadmother said. It had figured out how to speak. “We had someone else lined up for you, someone completely vacant.”
“IT FIGHTS ME.”
“My apologies,” she said. “Eston. Stop fighting the Blood Pilot.”
He moaned. His eyes were wide and pleading. Such a baby.
She reached past her son’s head to touch the Pilot’s oil-black skin. Her fingers sank in to the knuckles. She pulled back, and her fingers came free with a bloop.
“So,” she said. “When do we start building the gate?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DARYL GREGORY was the 2009 winner of the IAFA William L. Crawford Fantasy Award for his first novel, Pandemonium. His second novel, The Devil’s Alphabet, was nominated for the Philip K. Dick Award and was named one of the Best Books of 2009 by Publishers Weekly. His short fiction has appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, and The Year’s Best SF. He also written comics for BOOM! Studios and IDW. You can sign up for email updates here.
ALSO BY DARYL GREGORY
Afterparty
Thank you for buying this
Tom Doherty Associates ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
HARRISON SQUARED
Copyright © 2015 by Daryl Gregory
All rights reserved.
Map by Jon Lansberg
Cover art by Allen Williams
Cover design by FORT
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-7695-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-5271-6 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466852716
First Edition: March 2015
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Author’s Note
Map
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Daryl Gregory
Copyright
r /> Daryl Gregory, Harrison Squared
Harrison Squared Page 24