by YatesNZ, Jen
‘Now that's something I can help with,’ Torr said, sitting back in his chair with a relieved smile of satisfaction. ‘My old Oxford pal's father is Commander in Chief to the US Navy. I've stayed in their home a couple of times. Let me make a phone call.’
Chapter 36
Torr knew they'd succeeded. Their connection and balance had been perfect. Once they'd attuned to the crystal the programming flowed as if they'd run the program many times together instead of briefly in Commander Abernathy's personal lounge while Coast Guard personnel organized the operation. More amazing was his sense of the crystal itself welcoming them. He was struggling with his 20th century beliefs that scoffed at the notion of inanimate objects giving off energy, but in that other lifetime he'd understood crystals were energy, were vibration, therefore able to communicate. Every man, woman and child of Atlantis had known that fact just as every present day citizen accepted electricity and nuclear power. Back then Gynevra had taught him to sense the different energy of happy and unhappy crystals and he'd discovered for himself that a programmed crystal was a ‘happy’ crystal.
His Atlantean self knew they'd left the ancient shard on the ocean bed very ‘happy’ even though his macho British self of 1998 AD was inclined to ridicule the notion. Which side of him was it then, that held this sense of heaviness—and why? Was it Torr or Taur who asked, ‘Were they too late? Were those aboard the `Astrid' already dead, or worse, simply disappeared without trace? Would the yacht be found abandoned as had so many before it?’
Damned if it mattered who asked the questions. He needed answers!
He forced himself to relax however, under the restorative energy flowing from the hands of the woman who called herself Harmony, a crystal healer found and contacted at Gina's request by someone on the Search and Rescue team. Small and dark with long hair greying at the temples, it was hard to define her age. Her black eyes shone with intelligence and something else Torr decided he could only call awareness. From the moment she'd been introduced to them at SAR headquarters that morning he'd had the feeling Harmony knew a lot more of what was going on about her than did ordinary folk. It had been a relief. Gina, with Case for back-up, had wanted the same for him and they'd had to trust that whoever was found would have the spiritual strength to help if necessary.
She'd certainly convinced them both when, after listening in silence to their story, she'd asked, ‘Why then did my angels guide me to bring only black obsidian and emeralds instead of all my healing crystals?’
There was black obsidian at his feet now and in his hands and it was amazing how much more grounded and together he felt once she'd handed him the stones. Gina was probably clutching the two small lumps of raw emerald Harmony had left with Case—Gina! Cursing abruptly, he sat up.
‘Something's wrong with Georgina,’ he said to Harmony. ‘Can you ask the Captain to find out what's happening on the ‘Cornwallis’?’
There was a murmur of voices behind him, then Captain Hogan, who was in charge of the ‘Lopez’, the forty-four foot motor lifeboat, which had powered them into place on the northern side of the force field, appeared at his side.
‘I've just been in communication with Commander Abernathy on the ‘Cornwallis’, Mr. Montgomery. He says Ms. Hackville has fainted. The medic is treating her for shock and Mr. Valois is doing—whatever it is he does.’
‘Spiritual healing is what he does,’ Torr growled, then remembered to add, ‘Thanks.’
His patience had been severely stretched by the attitude of the Coast Guard brass that morning. It had been plain they were only being humored because of his connections in high places. The reversal of the force field didn't seem to have changed anything. In his impatience and concern for Gina it was easy to brush aside the errant thought that his own understanding was very recent.
He felt as if heart and lungs had fused into a solid lump in his chest. Superimposed on the blackness threatening his consciousness was a vision of Gynevra curled in a lifeless huddle on the bunk in the cabin of the ‘Nyalda’ after psychically transporting ship and crew to the safety of Heceuda Harbor during a killer storm. Taur's heart had stopped beating then and swelled in his chest with this same terrible certainty she was dead. One day perhaps he would learn to instantly filter out the memories belonging to that other life but right now they were too new, too raw to be pushed aside.
‘Breathe, man,’ Harmony muttered above his head. ‘Your Georgina'll be all right. She's got the emeralds and she's got Case—and she's got us. Now you just tune in to her, lend her some of your strength. I'll send extra energy through you as well. She'll be all right. Case'll bring her round.’
Torr did as Harmony suggested and after a moment was relieved to sense a weak response to the energy link he made with Gina.
‘Where's Captain Hogan?’ he asked.
‘Right here, Mr. Montgomery. We're under way. We've started moving into the area of the force field. There's an occasional flutter of the instruments but basically the field seems to be clearing before us. The ‘Cornwallis’ is moving from her side also. The plan is to converge on the point where Ms. Hackville indicated the ‘Astrid’ could—appear.’
The Captain's voice was carefully neutral, reinforcing for Torr that outside of himself and Harmony everyone else aboard the lifeboat was working outside their comfort zone, probably deeply confused as to whether they should be happy or afraid at the rapid dispersal of the force field. Which would no doubt bear little resemblance to their state of mind if—when, he silently amended—the ‘Astrid’ reappeared where Gina had said it would.
Truth was he was close to borderline of the comfort zone himself. With his unusual height and brawn and what he'd been told was a slightly menacing air of arrogance and authority, he wasn't used to other men looking at him as if he was five foot tall and built like a weed. He swiped an arm across his forehead, annoyed to find he was starting to sweat. ‘Thanks. That's great. Is there any way Ms. Harmony and I can get aboard the ‘Cornwallis’?’
‘You ever winched in and out of a chopper?’ Captain Hogan asked.
The undercurrent of superiority in Hogan's voice slashed deeper at his male pride and there was a split second when he allowed himself to imagine the dapper Captain trying to swim in full uniform. Recognizing the thought for the pride-pricked temper spurt it was, he instantly suppressed it, rose lazily to his full height, which forced the man to look up at him, and allowed a small smile to curve his lips.
‘A couple of times. What about you, Ms. Harmony?’
The woman's black eyes were sparkling.
‘Never! Lord, am I glad I got out of bed this morning. This has been the most exciting day of my life!’
Suddenly totally relaxed, Torr chuckled.
‘And it ain't over yet!’
‘What's going on? Why have we stopped?’ Georgina asked from a huddle of blankets on the wide bunk in the cabin of the ‘Cornwallis’. A luxury cabin cruiser already close to the area they'd needed to be, the Coast Guard had commandeered her for the operation, flying her crew to temporary accommodation on nearby Andros Island.
‘It's just a chopper circling round,’ Case said from behind her where he stood channeling healing energy at her shoulders. ‘Relax. It's all going to work out, George. The force field's already dissipating and we're cruising towards the spot you reckoned the yacht would reappear. All eyes are peeled up there and the flying boats are searching. If they hadn't designated this a secret operation you'd be world news. You know that, don't you, little sister? I'll bet there are a few strained, silent faces up on that deck. They didn't believe you'd make any difference at all. Thought you were just another crank and if that yacht turns up you'll have them really worried. I doubt they'll want to change the secrecy status either. They don't want to believe what you've told them because it shakes too many of their comfortable foundations, opens up too many other possibilities—’
A clatter of heavy feet on the stairs interrupted Casey and a large, dark form filled the d
oorway.
‘Gina! Are you all right?’
‘Torr! How—You didn't appor—?’ she breathed.
He only had to enter a room and something within her flowered and it definitely wasn't her mind.
‘No, I didn't!’ he responded tersely, dropping to his haunches by the bunk, eyes anxiously searching her face. ‘Harmony and I came in by chopper.’
‘The most exciting day of my life and I can't tell anyone about it!’ Harmony sang as she danced in behind Torr and went straight to Georgina's feet. ‘You did it, sweetie, and the brass out there have gone very quiet. They're tip-toeing into the field as if they expect the devil himself to leap out of the water at them. Lord, your feet are cold!’
Georgina scarcely heard what Harmony said. Her eyes were fixed on Torr's hands clenched into fists against the floor as if to keep from touching her. Briefly she let her gaze mesh with his.
‘What happened?’ Torr demanded, eyes searing into her like ice burning. ‘At the point you communicated the program was complete, your energy felt strong. I felt good too. I completed the drawing back in the prescribed steps and came back into physical awareness feeling only slightly disorientated. The obsidian and Harmony soon put that right. What happened? Did I draw back too soon?’
Just like Taur, demanding answers. It was so easy in her weakened state to slip between the worlds, back to Castle Heceuda, to remember him demanding answers about her health, the crystals, Lord Reggo, her whereabouts when he needed her. It was but a tiny thought-step further to recalling his way of tossing her over his shoulder and storming off to a private place to extract the answer he wanted. There was the same dark intensity in his eyes, the same muscle clenching in his jaw, the same magnetic force that drew her to him.
Not yet. Holy Ist, not yet!
A gentle, calming warmth suffused her body and with a start of pure joy she recognized the energy of the Goddess and drew strength from it. Like a gift from that far-off time, she realized now as then, she only had to think the holy name and the strength and power of the Goddess was with her.
Drawing it round her like a protective mantle, she answered calmly, ‘It was nothing you did. In fact you did everything perfectly. I just had this terrible sense of panic as I came back and it—I can only explain it like a black hole. It just sucked my consciousness.’
‘Like when Gynevra saved the ‘Nyalda’ from the storm?’ Torr interrupted abruptly.
Vivid memories scrolled with his words; the violent tossing of the ship, the howl of the wind, the terrifying crash of mountainous water. The fear-filled shouts of men, and Taur promising he'd try and come for her. Georgina blinked the memories away.
‘I—yes, I guess. Only not as devastating. All I know is I couldn't fight it. The medic simply says I fainted. Whatever, I'm only just starting to warm up now. Case has been working overtime channeling energy into me.’
‘Sure have,’ agreed Case, ‘and working up a real sweat. That black hole was the inside of a freezing chamber. The energy's already flowing better with you at her feet, Harmony. Did you guys fly across the force field area?’
Torr blinked, making a visible effort to bring himself back from some deep place in his mind. ‘Yeah,’ he said, sharing a wry grin with Harmony. ‘The pilot insisted he only did so because he'd been ordered to and swore it was a matter of ‘pure luck’ we had no problem.’
‘I was just telling George she'd be world news if they weren't keeping it secret,’ Case said.
‘Let's hope they don't change their minds about that,’ Torr muttered. ‘It'd be a bloody circus.’
‘You could put your hands on her too,’ Harmony suggested. ‘The more energy we pump into her, the quicker she'll warm up.’
For an unguarded moment their minds brushed. More heat than words flowed between them. The emerald flare of his eyes touched her cheeks with color but the communion of their minds set them on fire.
‘You'll heat up all right when I get my hands on you but it won't be while we have an audience.’
Torr surged abruptly to his feet, his head brushing the low ceiling of the cabin.
‘You two are doing just great. I'll go check what's happening upstairs.’
Harmony's startled gaze followed him out of the cabin then swung back to Georgina. Her eyes were deeply penetrating and Georgina, cheeks blazing, offered a weak smile. Exhaling slowly, Harmony said, ‘It's not just ‘past life’ stuff going on between you two, is it?’
Georgina shook her head but before she could add anything to the older woman's perception, shouts were heard topside.
As abruptly as it had come the heat left Georgina's cheeks.
‘They've seen something. I want to go up. Let me up!’ she demanded with uncharacteristic force, struggling to sit up.
‘George, barely an hour ago you were in a dead swoon!’ Case remonstrated.
‘I don't care!’ Georgina cried. ‘Come on. It'll be the ‘Astrid’.’
A thudding of feet on the stairs heralded Torr's appearance in the doorway again.
‘They've sighted a yacht exactly where you said it would be. Are you coming up?’
His glance swept all three in the cabin but it was Georgina, struggling out of the cocoon of blankets, who answered. ‘Of course we're coming!’
‘Here, wrap this one around you,’ Case ordered, thrusting a blanket at her.
With Case following closely, Georgina climbed the stairs behind Torr, her fingers still tightly clenched around Harmony's emeralds.
A tense silence greeted them on deck. Steaming at full speed, the cruiser was momentarily closing on the yacht. The closer they came to the drifting vessel the more obvious it became that something was dreadfully wrong. The sails appeared intact but great tatters of a shiny ocherous substance hung from them, from the mast, the railings, the wheelhouse, like grotesque ropes of swamp moss drifting in the stillness.
There was no sign of life.
The silence on the ‘Cornwallis’ thickened. Georgina fancied it stiffened her limbs and clung to her body in a dragging mass. Across the silence came the sound of a distant torturous scream then before their horrified gaze a man materialized by the wheelhouse of the ‘Astrid’, first his upper body then the lower. His arms flailed desperately at the cloying material covering his face and body. Then another appeared, the ocherous stuff flapping in strips off his back as he repeatedly punched his head against the base of the mast.
A third man crawled out of the deck hatch, reeled drunkenly once or twice from boom to hand rail then pitched headlong into the glassy water.
Abruptly the appalled silence on the ‘Cornwallis’ was broken. Amid a flurry of orders and scurrying personnel, the cruiser closed on the yacht, which sat as still in the water as if painted there. Georgina clung to Case, her eyes wide and staring. She hadn't let herself think about what they might have to deal with when the yacht re-materialized. A dinghy was lowered from the stern of the ‘Cornwallis’ to search for the man in the water and the two flying boats which had been ordered to rendezvous with them at this point, circled until signaled clearance to land. With careful maneuvering the ‘Cornwallis’ was brought alongside the yacht and a couple of sailors leapt to the deck with mooring lines to lash the vessels together.
Where were Fran and Gould? Suddenly a naked apparition leapt from the cabin of the yacht and launched itself at one of the sailors. Shouts from above alerted him and he turned in time to grapple with the man whose face was partially distorted by the alien film and whose one visible eye was wild and staring.
‘Gould!’ Georgina cried out, then sagged bonelessly through Case's embrace. Catching her before her head hit the deck, he lifted her into his arms, and dropping down to sit cross-legged, rocked her unconscious body while the tears poured unheeded down his face.
Torr gripped the railing of the ‘Cornwallis’ until his fingers almost melded with the steel. His need to hold Gina as Case was holding her was raking with claws of steel through his gut but he knew if he once touch
ed her, he'd not let her go again until he'd made her his own, until their bodies had made the connection their minds had made all those months ago. It wasn't time for that yet. Would it ever be? Much hinged on Fran and Gould. Insanity and physical disfigurement appeared to be certain outcomes for those aboard the ‘Astrid’. What would that do to Gina's overblown sense of responsibility?
In that moment Fran materialized, staggering from the cabin, her hands over her face and her long golden-blonde hair a mess of what appeared to be filthy, melted plastic. Her screams were piercing and terror-filled. In seconds he'd negotiated the rail of the ‘Cornwallis’ and dropped to the deck of the ‘Astrid’. The sea was so still it was unnatural but there was no time to wonder at that or at his uncharacteristic sangfroid at its proximity.
Going straight to Fran, who was now reeling across the tiny deck of the yacht like a drunken spinning top, he caught her in his arms and pulled her against his chest. Twisting and fighting against him, he could feel her terror escalating to frenzy point.
‘Frannie! It's all right! Frannie! Stop screaming. It's all right!’
‘Call her names. She hates it. She'll listen to you if you call her names.’
The words were as clear in his head as if Gina had spoken at his elbow. Glancing quickly up at the ‘Cornwallis’, he caught a glint from her eyes as she leant against Case's shoulder.
Fran twisted in his arms to claw at his face and for a moment he almost lost his grip on her as the mess of her hair caught against his shirt and parted from her head, leaving her scalp a bald, raw, meaty mess.
Fucking Myrmidons! Before he could regain his focus and restrain her arms she'd raked her nails down his right cheek.
‘Fucking scrawny kiwi bitch!’ he yelled, easily remembering names that had been teasingly funny in another time, a time that seemed almost as long ago as Atlantis. ‘Stand still on those skinny kiwi pins and shut that infernal kiwi beak before I shove a worm in it!’