by Becca Andre
“Andrew works for Solon now.”
“Oh right.” Eli fell silent.
The rattle of the teapot carried to them.
“Sounds like your medicine is coming.” Briar got to her feet.
“Miss Briar, I…”
She faced him. “Yes?” She waited, but he didn’t continue.
A knock sounded on the open door before Molly stepped into the room.
“How’s our patient?” Molly asked, giving Eli a smile before setting the teapot on the trunk beside his bed.
“A bit surly since I ordered him to bed,” Briar said.
“I’m just not the type to lie around,” Eli said.
“I’m sure you won’t be down long.” Molly poured him a cup of tea. She glanced at Briar. “Grayson’s back. I left him in your cabin to change. He was soaked to the bone.”
“About time he made it back.” She tried to hide her concern. “Now we can get underway.” She crossed to the door, then looked back. “Please take it easy, Eli. I want you well.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Hoping he would obey, she left to go get the boat moving.
The heavy rain had swollen the canal further, and adding in the mud, it was going to be their slowest day yet. Briar and Jimmy took turns steering, allowing them both to attend to their regular duties.
Lunch was a bit awkward, but not as bad as it could have been since Eli remained in his cabin. Molly delivered the meal to him, and afterward, helped Perseus change the dressings on his wounds.
Afternoon found Briar back at the tiller, keeping the boat on course against the current. She had hoped to make it to Akron today, but as the afternoon wore on, she grew doubtful. Perhaps once they passed the Portage Lakes feeder—one of the sources of water for the canal—the current would lessen.
The hatch to the aft cabin opened, followed by the soft clink of metal mugs. It sounded like Molly was bringing her an afternoon cup of tea. Briar smiled to herself. Molly was going to make a wonderful addition to the crew. She prepared to greet her, but it wasn’t Molly who stepped out of the hatch.
Balancing a pair of mugs in one hand, Grayson crossed the deck to where she sat on the rail. “Tea?” He offered one of the mugs.
“Yes, thank you.” She accepted the mug and took a tentative sip of the warm liquid. He’d added a generous spoonful of sugar—just how she liked it.
“May I join you?” he asked.
“Of course.” She patted the rail beside her.
He sat down, but didn’t immediately speak. Instead, he took a long drink from his mug. For several minutes, they drank their tea and watched the canal banks slide past.
“Were you able to find shelter from the storm this morning?” she asked, needing to say something.
“Yes. A shed…that leaked like a sieve.”
She smiled. “Molly said you were soaked to the bone.”
“I was. I should have taken your advice and returned to the boat.” He studied his mug. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
She opened her mouth to deny the charge, but felt Lock stir in her pocket. The little dragon had probably shared her concern.
“I guess I’m not used to having anyone care whether I come in out of the rain,” Grayson admitted. “I’ve always just looked out for me.”
“Seems like your come-in-out-of-the-rain skills could use some work.”
He looked up from his mug, a grin tugging at his mouth. “I guess.” He glanced toward the front of the boat and his amusement vanished. “Briar.” He rose to his feet.
She stood and followed his gaze. Benji was waving at her from the towpath. He’d stopped the mules, who were tossing their heads as if agitated. What had—
She became aware of a distant roar. A roar that was growing.
“What the hell is that?” Kali asked, climbing up from the cargo hold, Perseus right behind her. He came to an abrupt stop, staring toward the front of the boat.
Perseus muttered something. It wasn’t in English and by his tone, Briar suspected it wasn’t intended for polite company.
Briar followed his gaze and spotted the source of the noise. A wave of water was moving down the canal toward them. A dam must have burst. Her gaze settled on Benji and the mules who were right in its path.
Chapter 16
“Ben!” she shouted, clapping her hands around her mouth. “Detach the towline.” There was no one in the bow to detach it from the boat, and by the look of the wave rolling toward them, the mules were liable to be swept into the canal when it hit.
“Perseus, help Briar with the tiller,” Grayson said, his voice muffled as he pulled his shirt off over his head. Without waiting for a comment, he took off at a run down the catwalk, the metal glinting in his back.
“What’s he going to do?” Kali asked.
“Lock, to me,” Grayson called.
A burst of static around Briar’s neck, and Lock sprang away from her, flying after Grayson.
“Oh my God,” Kali whispered. “Was that a—”
Lock overtook Grayson, and between one stride and the next, he became liquid metal flowing over Grayson’s body. By the time Grayson reached the bow, he was covered in silver armor. He captured the towline in one hand, then sprang into the air.
Briar’s mouth dropped open as a pair of silver wings unfolded behind Grayson’s back. One flap, two, and he was airborne.
“Holy shit,” Kali said. “He can fly?”
Briar was just as stunned and could only watch as Grayson flew to the end of the towline Benji had managed to unhook from the team. Ben swatted Big Red on the rump, sending both mules braying into the trees. Then the wave hit. Heart in her throat, Briar couldn’t see if Benji had followed the team or not.
“Hang on,” Perseus said, gripping the tiller along with her.
She now understood Grayson’s strategy. He had taken the mules’ place, keeping the boat straight as the wall of water closed with them. It rolled beneath the bow, lifting the front of the boat high in the air.
Briar clung to the tiller, trying to keep her feet beneath her as the deck sloped upward.
The wave surged on, rolling beneath midship then aft. They leveled off, but now rode a roiling torrent.
The flat-bottomed boat swung from side to side, awkward on the white-capped swell. Designed for floating along a tranquil, near currentless canal, the boat was in danger of foundering as with each dip, water rolled over the low sides.
Even with Perseus’s help, Briar struggled to keep the boat pointed upstream. The towline was attached to one corner of the bow cabin—as it was intended to compensate for the steady pull of the mules. Unfortunately, it was doing more harm than good in this situation. The boat kept wanting to turn sideways in the violent current. Grayson was able to keep a steady pull on the towline, but the wild current made it almost impossible to steer.
A second wave, a little smaller than the first, rolled under them, almost pulling the tiller from their hands. Briar clung to the wooden handle, worn smooth by years of use, and struggled to keep the boat on course.
Movement drew Briar’s attention away from Grayson’s work at the towline. Eli climbed up onto the catwalk from the forward cargo hold. In short spurts, he hurried along the narrow walkway, keeping low to grip the edge when the boat tipped one way or the other.
She held her breath as he slowly made his way to them. If he lost his balance, he could fall overboard into the turbulent, muddy water. But like his speed, Eli’s agility was also an anomaly for such a big man. He arrived on the tiller deck moments later.
He hurried to her side and gripped the tiller. “I got it, Captain.”
Briar withdrew, and even Perseus stepped aside, turning the tiller over to Eli’s experienced hands. He turned forward, and if he was shocked to s
ee what pulled them, he didn’t let it show.
The boat immediately straightened out.
Briar gripped the rail encircling the tiller deck, to ride out the next swell.
“No, don’t compensate,” Eli shouted when Grayson banked left in an attempt to straighten the boat out on his own. “Forward and steady,” Eli called.
Grayson returned to his prior course without looking back.
Briar wasn’t sure which was more shocking: Grayson’s flight, or Eli and him working together.
The next swell passed, and though by no means a smooth ride, the violent pitching of the boat began to subside.
Releasing the rail, Briar stepped up beside Eli, watching him deftly avoid the larger logs and chunks of debris bobbing around them. Though Briar cringed when the occasional clump of brush or smaller logs thumped against the hull.
“Sorry, Captain,” Eli said after a particularly violent bump.
“You’re doing wonderfully,” Briar said.
With the rough ride settling down, Jimmy and Molly were able to join them. Both were wet and looked like they’d been tossed around. Molly had a bleeding gash on one cheek.
Zach emerged from the stable a moment later. He scrambled up onto the stable deck and after a quick glance around, ran across the catwalk to join them.
“Where’s Benji?” He knew he’d been out on the towpath.
“He unhooked the team and drove them into the trees before the water rolled through,” Briar answered.
“Did he get clear?”
“I don’t know.”
Zach rushed to the side of the boat, searching the turbulent brown water around them.
Heart in her throat, Briar looked up, her gaze settling on Grayson. He was the only one with a chance of finding her crewman. “Grayson,” she whispered, not wanting to shout to him and give Zach false hope. “Find Benji.”
One more beat of those impossible silver wings, and Grayson dropped the towline and banked to the right. She bit her lip. He’d heard her.
“Benji!” Zach shouted, though Briar saw no sign of his brother.
Everyone ran to an edge of the boat, leaning out to scour the water while Grayson continued to search from the air.
“There!” Eli shouted. He was looking off the back of the tiller deck. With Grayson no longer pulling, the strong current pushed them backward, the stern now leading.
Grayson banked at Eli’s shout. One silver wing skimmed the water, but Grayson maintained his course, moving with grace and power. No one would guess by watching that he had never flown before.
Briar rushed to the tiller rail beside Eli. “Where—” Then she saw Benji, clinging to a thick log, floating several yards behind them. Had he passed while they were struggling to keep the boat from capsizing?
The thickness of the log prevented Benji from getting a good grip. Each time he tried to pull himself up onto the log, it rolled, dropping him back into the water. Briar could tell by his movements that he was exhausted. Perhaps he’d only just found the log, and his struggles to cling to it were tiring him further.
He slipped off again.
“Ben!” Zach shouted. He jumped up on the tiller rail, and might have leapt in if Jimmy hadn’t seized him.
“Wait,” Jimmy said as Zach struggled to get free. “Grayson has him.”
Grayson flew low, skimming the water as he drew closer to the log Benji had been clinging to.
“Come on,” Briar whispered, though more to herself than Grayson. “Save him. Save him.” Zach had lost too much. He couldn’t lose Benji, too.
The log had turned in the current, revealing that Benji no longer clung to it.
“Ben!” Zach screamed.
Briar clasped her hands, wanting to do something, but all she could do was watch.
Grayson abruptly folded his wings and dove into the water. Briar jumped at the suddenness of it.
Time passed, the wait stretching on to the point that she began to fear for Grayson. Just when she was considering jumping in the water herself, Grayson exploded upward in a geyser of water and shimmering metal, Benji clutched in his arms.
She pressed a hand to her mouth as he winged his way back to them. He covered the distance in a few powerful strokes, then landed lightly on the aft deck.
Everyone seemed stunned to immobility as an armor-plated Grayson lowered Benji to the deck. Everyone except Zach, who rushed to Benji’s side.
“Ben? Ben, talk to me.” Zach patted his cheek. “Benji.”
Molly reached over and gripped Briar’s arm. Was Benji—
Grayson, still on one knee beside him, callously rolled Benji onto his side and gave him a single hard thump in the center of his back.
Benji suddenly coughed, then vomited a surprising amount of water onto the deck.
“Ben. Oh God, Ben.” Zach didn’t give his brother a chance to recover before pulling him into his arms.
Grayson rose to his feet, watching the pair.
Briar took a step toward them, and Grayson looked up. Like the last time he’d worn this armor, the horned helmet was contoured to his face, leaving his mouth and chin visible. And like last time, the cool eyes that peered through the eye holes weren’t remotely human.
“Lock, come here,” Briar said.
The silver armor rolled back off Grayson’s skin. It gathered into a silver sphere that immediately morphed into Lock. The little dragon leapt into the air, landing on Briar’s shoulder a moment later.
Grayson dropped to a knee, the joint hitting with a hollow thump that echoed. And like last time, Lock’s absence hadn’t removed all the visible metal. Grayson’s bowed head revealed the sharp dorsal spines running down his back. But what froze Briar in place were the silver wings draped across the deck. They hadn’t been part of Lock.
“Dear God,” Jimmy muttered. He stood a little behind Grayson, his wide eyes on his back. “We’re going to need that needle and thread.”
Briar moved around to better see what Jimmy was staring at and pressed a hand to her mouth. Below the wings that had sprouted just inside Grayson’s shoulder blades, his back was laid open in several deep slashes. There were three to either side of his spine. They were so deep, she could see his exposed ribs. Silver ribs. Her stomach rolled over, and it wasn’t from the gore.
“Lock,” Briar whispered. “Go get my fiddle.”
With a whirr, the little dragon leapt into the air, then flew through the hatch, which was still open after Molly climbed out.
“Your fiddle?” Kali demanded. “You’re worried about that now?”
Briar hadn’t realized she’d been standing close enough to hear, but she didn’t answer her. Nor did anyone else. Benji’s occasional cough was the only noise. It seemed everyone awaited Lock’s return.
A flash of silver, and Lock burst out of the open hatch, winging his way back to her. Her fiddle and bow were clasped in his talons. She wondered why he had taken it from its case, then remembered that she had taken the instrument out with plans to restring it. She had left it on the table.
Lock hovered in the air before her, and she frowned. There was something about the way the instrument hung from his claws that seem odd, but it wasn’t until she gripped the body of the fiddle that she realized the neck was broken.
“Oh God.” Briar stared at the broken fiddle. It had been a gift from Uncle Charlie, but more than that, it was the only fiddle she had. How would she help Grayson if she couldn’t play for him?
Lock landed on the deck before her, and she felt a mental nudge from him, requesting her attention.
“What—” She didn’t get to finish the question as Lock morphed into a shape he’d never taken before. For a moment, Briar could only stare at the beautiful silver fiddle lying at her feet.
She bent to pick it up, turning it in her hands as she straightened. It appeared identical to hers, but instead of being made from wood, it was made of soul iron. The back of the instrument bore the subtle impression of Lock’s scales. It had been strung, though the metallic strings were gold instead of silver, reminding her of the accents on Lock’s scales.
“Does it play?” Jimmy asked, his voice filled with wonder.
“Let’s see,” Briar whispered and brought the instrument to her chin. Had Lock tried to soothe her by offering a replacement? Or did he understand that she needed a functional instrument to play for Grayson?
Her bow still in hand, she slid the fingers of her left hand along the strings, surprised by their supple feel. The instrument was lightweight and balanced, feeling as natural as her own. She drew the bow across the strings and ran through a couple of scales. The notes rang out, perfectly in tune, yet the tone was like nothing she’d ever heard. Would this work?
Pushing aside her doubts, she closed her eyes and focused on how desperately she wanted to help Grayson. She wanted to heal him, to make him healthy and strong—and most importantly, human.
The music swelled and grew, immersing her so completely it was intimidating, but she played on. The metal strings were supple, but they bit into her fingers. Still, if there was just a chance of helping Grayson, she would play for days.
“Dear God,” Jimmy muttered.
Briar opened her eyes and looked down. Grayson still knelt on the deck before her, but he was no longer slumped over in pain. He looked relaxed, his hands resting on his thighs, his head bowed as if in thought. But as she played, the gashes in his back were sealing. Each gradually closed, their edges glowing with a golden light. She could heal him?
Hope swelled, and she played on. She had no idea how she was doing this, but she didn’t analyze it.
The fin-like plates along his spine retracted into their silver orifices. His wings folded, bending and overlapping in a way that no winged creature could mimic, until they were once more the silver plates covering his shoulder blades. The gashes were gone as if they never existed. Now, the only metal still visible were the plates and spinal rivets he’d had before.