by M. G. Herron
Reuben returned from delivering Eliana to the party and pulled Amon into a bear hug.
“Thanks for coming, it means a lot.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Amon said. “But dude, I thought this was going to be a wake. Look at me!”
Reuben laughed. “It is a wake. And you look fine, don’t worry. Charlie’s younger sister organized the party. I was skeptical, but you know what, she was right. Charlie loved New Orleans. This is very fitting. Did I ever tell you we met there?”
Amon shook his head slowly, his mouth half-open in a helpless smile as he listened to the story of how Reuben met his late husband. To Amon, his friend seemed to have lost years overnight. Even though his eyes were shimmering with tears and red-rimmed, it was salve for the soul for Reuben to be able to return to these fond memories, and put the more recent past of Charlie’s sickness to rest. The wake was an end for Charlie, but a new beginning for Reuben. And both Charlie’s life and Reuben’s new beginning were worth celebrating.
“Well that was unexpected,” Eliana said, coming back to sit next to Amon when she saw that Reuben had been pulled away to greet someone else at the door.
“Tell me about it.”
Eliana took a deep breath. “I have to go back to Kakul, Amon.”
He stared at her, wide-eyed. “Eliana, I can’t.”
“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
And I don’t understand how the carbonados really work. What if I kill you? What if the madman with the other Translocator steals the carbonado from the lab and I can’t get you back again? It was too close last time. If I hadn’t gone to see Audrey, they would have had them.
“I can’t lose you again,” Amon said.
“I’m going to lose my job if I don’t.”
All Amon could do was shake his head.
“Damnit, Amon! This is my life’s work. And there are huge opportunities in this for me. You have to see that! Haven’t I made sacrifices for you and your projects? All I’m asking for is a few hours. Just to look around and take a few samples and photos, since I couldn’t last time. I can barely remember what it looks like!” The frustration was clearly evident in her voice.
Amon shoved down the dark feeling of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. She was right. She had done so much for him. But he still couldn’t let her go back there.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a 10 digit number he didn’t recognize. He never would have answered an unknown number normally, but things had been strange the last few days, and he didn’t want to argue with Eliana any more.
“Amon,” the inflection of her voice rising, “don’t you dare answer that.”
“I should get it.”
“This conversation is not over. You don’t get to tell me what I can or can’t do when it comes to my career.”
“I do when it’s my machine. You’re not going back through the Hopper. End of discussion.”
“Amon, please.”
Strangers they didn’t know, family and friends of Reuben and Charlie, were watching them argue out of the corners of their eyes now.
“Not here,” Amon said.
“Amon.”
“No!” he said, louder than he’d intended. “I forbid it.”
“Forbid it? How dare you—”
He slid his thumb across the phone to answer the call and turned his body away from his wife. “Hello?”
Eliana’s jaw clenched and her dark eyes flared with a rock-hard anger.
“Mr. Fisk, this is Agent Wiley with the FBI. I think we found something. We should meet in person. It’s important.”
Amon’s stomach dropped into a cold pit as his wife turned and walked away from him.
13
Better to Know
The giant tentacle whipped across the canoe between Tolen and Citlali, the thin end plunging back into the water on the other side and drawing its length taut across the middle of the boat.
Rakulo dug his paddle into the water and pulled his canoe forward with all the might he could muster. Yeli sat cross-legged with her mouth hanging open in front of him, her paddle poised in the air. She glanced between the tentacle and Rakulo, terror plainly written on her face.
“Paddle!”
Yeli jerked into motion, digging her paddle deep into the purple seawater.
Shouts of outrage and surprise came from the others behind him. Rakulo kept his gaze fixed on Citlali and Tolen, as if with intensity he might pull himself through the water faster.
Citlali and Tolen kicked and yanked at the slimy length of tentacle, but it was as thick as a man’s arm and they couldn’t get a good grip. Citlali tried to use her knife to cut at it. Before the stone came into contact with the tentacle, their canoe jostled and jerked down into the water. Tolen braced himself on the side of the boat. Citlali caught her balance with her knife hand, crouching. A great creaking, rending sound came from the wood of the canoe.
Yeli reached forward, but they were still several handspans out of reach.
“Citlali!” Rakulo shouted as he dug his paddle back into the turbulent waters. Bubbles came up around his paddle. “Jump!”
His fiercest warrior sprang into action. Citlali seized Tolen under one arm and pitched him into the water toward Rakulo just as the wood of the canoe buckled under the tension of the tentacle. A rending crunch split the air. Citlali braced herself against the back half of the boat as it rose up out of the water, and kicked off it, launching herself toward Rakulo and the others that gained distance behind him. She went hands first into the water between two additional tentacles that were just now questing up into the air, searching for prey. She disappeared beneath the turbulent surface.
Tolen had crashed awkwardly into the foamy water. Now he turned and scrabbled frantically toward Rakulo, swallowing a lungful of water, spitting, coughing, and windmilling his arms, and spraying water all over. The two tentacles questing above the surface seemed to sense Tolen’s struggle. One slapped down over his right arm, while the other darted underwater to curl around his waist. Tolen’s screams were smothered by his choking coughs as the tentacles began to pull him down. His open mouth quested upward for air.
Rakulo reached out a hand and locked his fingers around Tolen’s forearm, the one not hooked by the tentacle. The boat beneath him turned as he hauled back on the young man’s arm, trying to pull him away from the grabbing, slimy things and into the boat.
“Hang on, Tolen!” Rakulo said through gritted teeth. His grip was firm, but Tolen’s arm was slippery with water and the force of the tentacle’s pull was too strong. It was like hauling back on a tree root whose other end was embedded deep into the earth. Rakulo glanced into the water as he leaned out of his canoe, following the length of tentacle down to where it seemed to be at attached to a dark bar of vegetation or coral on the ocean floor. Cords bulged from Rakulo’s neck as he grunted and hauled back with all his might.
His fingers slipped on Tolen’s slick skin, and the young warrior fell from his grasp. His choking scream was vanished under the foamy surface.
Rakulo stared at the water, his mouth hanging open as he breathed heavily. Bubbles rose to the surface where Tolen had gone under. Rakulo must go in after him. Where was Citlali? Did she get away or was she down there, too? Rakulo drew the obsidian knife from his sheath and was leaning over the water, staring at where the bubbles rose to the surface and gathering a deep breath, when Yeli screamed.
Rakulo twisted around and looked at the girl in the front of his canoe. A new tentacle was wrapped three times around her shoulders, creeping up her neck and tightening with a steady throb like a snake suffocating its prey. Her mouth hung open, her face drawn and pale, and her scream pierced his ears.
Rakulo reacted. He jumped forward, slashing down with the obsidian knife at the tentacle near her shoulder. A gash opened in the length, but only a small one. The hide was as thick and tough as anything Rakulo had ever s
een. Thick as his own arm, the cut on the tentacle gushed with a white pus. Was that blood? It looked more like plant sap. Rakulo didn’t give himself time to consider it. He kept slashing, cutting, until the slimy brown length was flayed open, the inside layered with striated muscle. As he sliced away the last bit of flesh, the tentacle slithered back down and disappeared under water, as silent as it had come.
Rakulo pulled the still-pulsing length of tentacle away from Yeli’s body. The tentacle kicked and twisted in his hand like a live fish. Rakulo yanked and cut and pulled until it had released Yeli, and she coughed as the air rushed back into her lungs. Then he tossed it back into the water. Wasting no time, Rakulo grabbed his paddle where it had fallen at the bottom of the boat, and rapidly retreated from the dark shadow under the water, moving away from where the tentacles seemed to originate.
Rakulo glanced at the spot where Tolen had gone under. Was that it? There were no more bubbles. He was gone.
Guilt choked him, and Rakulo blinked back tears. It wouldn’t do for the others to see him like this. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Yeli,” he said in the most confident voice he could muster. He cleared his throat. “Are you okay? Can you help me paddle?” The girl, still pale, nodded and picked up her paddle. They focused on pivoting the canoe and paddling back toward the Wall and the others.
Citlali was being pulled into a canoe by Thevanah and Pojuti. Rakulo let loose a shaky sigh of relief at the sight of her. At least she had made it. She must have swam away beneath the surface while Rakulo had cut the tentacle from Yeli.
The others had been lucky they hadn’t charged ahead. As they caught their breath, Rakulo took stock. His canoe continued to rock on troubled waters, although the waves were diminishing. Wooden shards from Tolen and Citlali’s splintered canoe bobbed across the surface of the water toward them. Quen was rubbing one arm, which was red and raw. Rakulo saw some of the white pus on the side of Quen’s canoe where he had managed to cut a length of tentacle. Unlike Rakulo, he hadn’t thrown it back in the water out of disgust.
“Quen, let me see that.”
The big man handed it over. The tentacle tapered to a thin end, where a claw-like incisor protruded from it. That must have been what cut Quen’s arm, and the only reason it hadn’t cut Yeli was because it had been too busy squeezing. Running up the length was a neat row of little mouth-like circles. Rakulo had never seen anything like it in his life. What was this monster?
“Now we know why the others who ventured around the Wall by sea never returned,” Rakulo said.
The others nodded somberly, their mouths pressed into grim lines.
“I opened my eyes while I was under water,” Citlali said.
“What did you see?” Rakulo asked.
“The arms come out of a plant on the bottom of the sea. Dozens of them. It’s huge.”
Rakulo nodded. This made sense based on what he had seen through the waters, too.
“It seemed to curve out that way.”
Rakulo looked up at the massive, shining knife edge of Wall next to him. Then over to where the tentacles had risen up. He pointed out and drew his arm along the length of the horizon in an arc. Sounds of understanding came from the others.
“A barrier on land, and another in the sea,” Rakulo said. “It’s another Wall, hidden under the surface of the water.”
“This Wall has an appetite,” Quen said.
“I’d be willing to bet that there’s one at the other end, too,” Pojuti said.
“I agree,” Rakulo said. “But we’ve already lost one life today. We better get back to the village now and let the others know what happened.” Rakulo tossed the limp tentacle back into Quen’s boat. “You’re in charge of that. Keep it as your trophy. We need to show it to the others as proof.”
Quen nodded seriously, then cupped a handful of water and washed some of the remaining blood off his arm.
They paddled back and were met by the others, who stopped cheering at the sight of their return when they realized that only three of the four canoes had returned. Rakulo and the other seafarers paddled back down the beach to the place from which they had embarked. The rest of the warriors tracked with them along the coast, and greeted them somberly when they finally beached the boats.
“We lost Tolen,” Rakulo said.
He explained what had happened, then helped stash the canoes in the jungle once more, piling them over with brush and leaves. They walked back to the village, where they were greeted by their families once more. It was a more reserved greeting, as the timing was unexpected—Rakulo’s warriors were usually gone for weeks at a time. Rakulo kept his face a blank mask. People seemed to sense from a distance that this was not a joyous reunion. Maatiaak was there, scowling. Quen showed everyone the severed tentacle, and the frightened villagers made the sign of protection, touching to their thumb to their forefinger and raising it to their heart.
When Tolen’s mother couldn’t control her sobs any more, Ixchel pulled the woman into her arms and walked her away from the others so she could grieve more privately.
“You fool,” Maatiaak said at last. As he’d watched their explanation, his scowl had deepened. “What did you think was going to happen?”
“If you knew about the sea monster, why didn’t you tell us?” Rakulo said. “Why keep it from us?”
“I didn’t know!” Maatiaak said. “None of us knew why it was not safe. We only knew that the warriors who have tried to swim around the wall in the past never returned. Of course it was unsafe!”
“Well, now we have proof,” Rakulo said, pointing to the severed tentacle. “For all I know, this is the first time we’ve ever made the discovery. Isn’t it better to know for ourselves? To know the truth?”
“It would be better if that boy were alive,” Maatiaak said.
He spat in the sand and walked away, drawing several of the older warriors, who had been silent through Rakulo’s explanation, with him in his wake. The area around them suddenly seemed very empty, and the rest of those gathered slowly dispersed, wives and husbands pulling Rakulo’s warriors with them back to their homes. Rakulo let them go. Finally, only Citlali remained by his side.
“I should go, too,” Citlali said.
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry they reacted that way, Rakulo.”
“They have every right to be angry.”
Rakulo cooked dinner for himself, Ixchel, and Tolen’s mother. The women didn’t eat, and Rakulo could only stomach a few bites. Then he lay down on the bed he barely used in his mother’s house. When he couldn’t sleep, he walked outside, took Eliana’s deep black stone out of the skin pouch on his belt, and gazed at it under the light of the two moons, half-full. Twinkling stars reflected out of the diamond’s depths. But otherwise it seemed just a stone. No powerful magic accessible to him in times of great need. Rakulo was just a reluctant leader who saw one of his people pulled under the water. In his memory, Tolen’s grin would be forever replaced by the look of abject terror that washed over his face in the moment before Rakulo let him slip under.
Rakulo put the stone back in the pouch and sighed. He needed to talk to someone. He moved his feet, with no direction in mind, and they took him back into the forest.
Gehro’s cave was on the other side of Uchben Na. Normally he would have skirted around the place at night for the memories it contained, but tonight he was feeling particularly grim, and he was impatient, so he cut straight through the stone city.
He went under the vast arch, and was halfway across the great courtyard of cracked and weed-grown paving stones when a humming sound came out of the jungle. Rakulo gasped, and began to run. Then a pain erupted in his head.
He stumbled. He fell. He was pulled roughly to his feet by strong, callused hands. Hands of working men, of farmers and warriors of a certain age. Maatiaak was there. Maatiaak ordered his men to search Rakulo.
One of them found Eliana’s ring. Maatiaak took it, turning it
to observe it.
Of course, Rakulo thought. That’s what Xucha wants. I should have known Maatiaak had people watching me!
Behind him, the shining orb of Xucha’s demon floated in the moonlight, the tall figure clad in a single seamless garment of form-fitting black. On the smooth reflective face of his mask, a snake whipped its tongue out and hissed. When Xucha raised his hand, a blue light searched out from the demon and Eliana’s ring rose out of Maatiaak’s hand of its own volition.
“No!” Rakulo shouted, swiping his hand at it. “You can’t have it!”
Maatiaak’s men pulled Rakulo’s arms back to his sides and pinned them there. The ring floated up and away, sparkling brightly as it moved through the air like a shooting star. A small hole opened in the smooth armor of Xucha’s demon, and the ring disappeared inside.
14
Clearly Incomplete
From the moment at the wake when Amon turned his back on her, until she walked out of the artificial cool of the airport in Campeche, Eliana felt like a giant boa constrictor kept squeezing ever tighter around the hollow cavity of her chest where he heart used to be.
Eliana didn’t have a heart now. Amon was her heart once, but he was dead to her.
The constricting feeling began to ease as she stepped into the dense humid heat of Campeche at noon, like stepping through a waterfall or entering a steam-filled sauna. She checked her phone—ten missed calls from Amon, and a dozen text messages—locked it without looking at them, and dropped the phone into her purse with a grim satisfaction.
The guilt didn’t begin to set in until she was halfway back to the campsite. She had stayed in Austin for two days after the wake, bought a ticket back to Campeche in secret, and left before Amon woke on Saturday morning. At the time, she had known without a shred of doubt that the bastard deserved the cold treatment. Who was he to dictate the direction of her career?