Lily mentally tested the wind. It was blowing against her back, right in Dismukes’s direction. Perfect. She flung it into his eyes as hard as she could.
Carl stumbled and rubbed at his face, grinding the gritty sediment farther into the tender tissue of his eyeballs. “You little bitch!”
Now was her chance. Lily lifted a knee, preparing to kick him in the groin while he was blind and helpless.
Damn. She couldn’t do it, not yet, anyway. At one time, Lily wouldn’t have hesitated. Behind the mesmerizing voice and serene face lay a steel determination no one suspected, save her family. It was why she was here, after all. But she remembered how calmly, and with such dignity, Nash had dealt with Gary and his friends at the restaurant. Maybe there was a way to get Carl off their backs without resorting to violence. Quickly, she gathered up a length of coiled rope on the deck and tied Carl’s hands behind his back. By the time he realized her plan, she had him good as handcuffed.
Tears streamed down his face, his body’s natural reaction to the irritant in his eyes. Lily waited until his vision returned and then slowly curled her lips into that Mona Lisa smile she’d perfected over the years. That mask that hid all traces of inner turmoil. Be strong. Show any mercy or weakness and it’s game over. She had to do this or none of them would ever be free from his greed. He would ruin her family and Lily couldn’t bear it if that happened.
“Look at me, Carl. Here’s how it’s going to be. You aren’t going to destroy my family. We’ll never work for you again. You’re going to go away quietly because to expose us is to expose yourself. Understand?”
“Why should I listen to you?” he said with a sneer.
“You have one week to leave Bayou La Siryna.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And if I don’t?”
“You didn’t act concerned about me contacting other mermaids about your threats. But what if I told you I could rally some of the Blue Mermen Clan this way?”
Carl paled and worry lines creased his brow.
“Ah. You have heard of them, I see. One of their clan—a particularly vicious one named Orpheous—is quite enchanted with me. He and his friends wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. All it would take is one word from me.”
“But—”
“No buts. Live out what’s left of your miserable life someplace far from here and keep your mouth shut. Because if you don’t, the Blue Mermen will find you. And anytime you’re at sea you’ll always be wondering who’s underneath, ready to pull you under, never to be seen or heard from again. Because I promise you, we’ll do it.”
A bolt of lightning flashed in the gray sky and thunder cracked loud as a shotgun blast. She gathered her knife from the floorboard and circled behind Carl. With two slices, she cut through the rope’s binding and tucked the knife back into her sporran. Carl swung around with a fist raised.
Lily waved an index finger in his face. “Not a good idea,” she sang in her sweetest siren’s voice.
He slowly lowered his hand and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Better hurry to land,” she added. “The storm has arrived.”
And she dove under, heading home.
* * *
Nash paused at the closed door, puzzled by the laughter and murmurs of many voices on the other side. He checked the room number—408—which he’d been told was his grandfather’s new room after being moved from intensive care. He pushed open the door and entered, surprised to find a dozen or so men and women packed inside.
Raymond, his grandfather’s closest friend, stepped forward and shook his hand. About Sam’s age, Raymond was tall and gangly. Just as Nash remembered as a kid, he still sported the same turquoise bolo tie whether dressed in a business suit or jeans.
“Thanks for calling me last night, Nashoba. I alerted the rest of the tribe that he was at the hospital and many wanted to come pay their respects.”
Nash nodded at the assemblage, deeply touched by their concern for Sam. He glanced around at the unusual bevy of gifts—no flowers or fruit baskets in sight. Instead, a few eagle and crow feathers were strategically placed by the window and at the foot of Sam’s bed. A colorful dream catcher adorned the standard-issue medical cot and on the nightstand sat open bowls of fresh crumbled tobacco and sage. The rich, earthy aroma mingled with the scent of food. Lots of food. Every square inch of flat space on the dresser, shelf and windowsill was stacked with aluminum-covered casserole dishes.
Sam sat up in bed, looking much healthier. He’d changed out of the hospital gown and wore a short-sleeved denim shirt and cargo pants. He was down to just one IV stuck in his arm. Although his color was better, Nash could read the fatigue in his eyes, and the lines in his face seemed more deeply etched, as if the heart attack had aged him overnight.
Nash approached the foot of the bed and nodded. “How are you, Grandfather?”
“Better,” he answered. “Ready to go home.”
Nash knew not to bring up the operation in front of present company. To argue the point would insult his grandfather’s dignity.
“Docs say he can be released in the morning,” Raymond piped in. “I’d be honored to stay at Sam’s cottage a few days or as long as he needs to regain his strength.”
Nash clenched his jaw to refrain from arguing that his grandfather should undergo further surgery. Raymond was not to blame for Sam’s stubbornness.
“Thank you for your kindness,” he said, clasping Raymond forearm to forearm.
Sam spoke up, his voice proud. “This is my grandson, Nashoba. Many of you have not seen him since he entered manhood.”
Shame gutted Nash, quick and deep. He should have visited more often instead of insisting his grandfather travel to meet him.
Raymond raised his arms at the crowd. “Time to go and let them visit in private. Sam needs to get some rest, as well.”
A scraping of chairs and the whoosh of people gathering their belongings, and then one by one they shook Nash’s hand and waved goodbye to Sam.
Alone, he stared at his grandfather and shook his head. “Is there no talking you into having another operation?”
“My mind is set and I’m at peace,” Sam said firmly. “I have prayed to my God and the spirits have answered.”
Nash conceded defeat. Sighing, he pulled up a chair close to Sam’s cot. “Then I suppose I have no choice but to accept your decision.” His throat constricted, remembering how kind his grandfather had been on those summer visits long ago. The bayou had been his childhood refuge, a place to escape his parents’ constant bickering and the hustle of city life, which he’d detested. All during the long school years he looked forward to exploring the Alabama backwoods and hearing his grandfather’s tales of the Choctaw.
“I’m sorry,” Nash said, throat burning with regret. “I should have visited more.” He swallowed painfully. “Come sooner.”
Sam grasped his shoulder with surprising strength. “None of that now. I understood the circumstances.”
He’d been thirteen when his parents divorced, and his mother had spitefully refused to let him visit his paternal relatives in a misguided attempt to punish Nash’s father for his many infidelities. For his part, Nash’s father was too wrapped up in his own life to want to return to Bayou La Siryna. To him, the place he grew up in was dull and he couldn’t wait to leave at the soonest opportunity.
Still, Nash wished he hadn’t been so set on traveling and building his own career. He should have visited more once he was older and on his own.
“I, um, spoke to Dad last night. He’ll be flying out in the next couple of weeks, as soon as he wraps up his latest business trip.” Nash had urged him to come sooner, but his father was insistent he had other matters to finish first.
“It will be good to see him again,” Sam said, removing his hand and settling against his pillows.
&n
bsp; Nash hoped that whatever distance had come between his father and grandfather could be healed before it was too late.
The room seemed too quiet now after the earlier crowd of well-wishers. Sam’s eyes had closed, but Nash didn’t think he’d fallen asleep yet. “Grandfather?” he asked tentatively.
Sam’s eyes opened. “Yes?”
“Tell me one of your stories again like you used to.” Nash didn’t want to ever forget them. He yearned for the closeness they’d once shared. “Unless you need to rest,” he added quickly.
The deep lines on his grandfather’s face softened and he smiled softly. “Which one?”
“You choose.”
“The most important one is that of the Okwa Nahollo.”
“The white people of the sea.”
“With skin the color of trout,” Sam said with a nod. “There are places deep in the swamp where the water changes to a clear white color. That’s where they live. It is said that if you near this mysterious pool of clear water, they will take you down below to their home under the sea. Should you stay with them more than three days, you may never return to land.”
“I wonder how this legend came to be,” Nash mused.
His grandfather regarded him with a profound intensity. “Legend? It’s true.”
Surely Sam didn’t expect him to believe these old tales like he once had as a child. “Okay,” Nash said mildly. Now was no time to scoff.
“They exist. And a day will come soon when you see this truth.”
What kind of medication was his grandfather taking? He seemed lucid enough—but mermaids? Really.
“Since you’ve returned, haven’t you felt and seen things more deeply? Haven’t the land and its creatures revealed anything to you?”
Nash immediately thought of the crows and seagulls telling him Lily was of two spirits. “I have,” he admitted.
“I’ll tell you more of the Okwa Nahollo, things that aren’t part of the general legend. It’s a truth that the waters have whispered to me over the years.”
Nash’s skin prickled. “Go on.”
“As our people were being rounded up for the Trail of Tears, the sea dwellers heard their wails. Those who chose, those who believed, escaped capture and removal. The Okwa Nahollo allowed them to come live with them undersea. There they were free, far from the government men who hunted them down.”
Nash said nothing. His grandfather would never lie to him, so he must truly believe this had happened. It was probably what came with old age, a great imagination and too much time alone in the bayou.
“It’s true,” Sam insisted. “But you must discover this for yourself.”
“Sorry, but you’re right. To believe such a legend, I’d have to see a mermaid with my own eyes.”
Sam closed his eyes once more and whispered, “Maybe you already have.”
Chapter 15
“Where were you all day?” Nash had asked the moment she arrived at the hospital.
“Family business,” Lily offered cryptically. “How’s Sam?”
“Downgraded from ICU to a regular bed. He may even be released in the morning.” Nash delivered what should have been good news with an air of impatience.
“I see. So you couldn’t talk him into the operation?”
“No. His mind is good and made up.”
Lily squeezed his arm in sympathy. Privately, she couldn’t blame Sam for opting out. He’d lived a long life and deserved to meet his end on his own terms.
It had taken a long time to load up Nash’s truck with the avalanche of food. Sam Bowman would be set for at least a couple of weeks. Even though it was human food and not her preference, the combined scent of turkey, corn bread, dressing and homemade pies created a homey, cozy kind of smell.
The truck jostled over the bumpy road to the Bowman cottage, which was worse than usual because of the earlier downpour. Although the storm had passed, it was dark for late afternoon, courtesy of a few lingering clouds that muddied the sky to a potash gray. Lily kept a check on the backseat, making sure none of the packaged food overturned. A comfortable silence settled in, for which she was grateful. The confrontation with Carl had left her exhausted and anxious. Had she done enough? Too much?
The jangling ring of her cell phone startled Lily and she scrambled in her pocketbook to find it. “Hello?” she answered breathlessly.
Click.
“Hello?” she repeated.
Silence.
“Who is it?” Nash asked sharply.
“Could just be a bad signal out here.” Her fingers trembled as she pulled up the recent calls menu. It was a local number but not one she recognized. She pressed the number and waited.
“Whoever it is, they aren’t answering,” she said flatly. Oh, hell, here we go again.
“Let me see.” Nash grabbed the phone and frowned at the screen. “Recognize the number?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted.
“Son of a bitch.” Nash handed the phone back to her and slammed a hand against the steering wheel. “I’ll call Tillman as soon as we reach the cottage. See if he can do anything.”
“It’s not the same phone number from the last incident.” Lily tried to infuse some optimism in her voice. But the memory of the slashed canvases sent a renewed surge of anxiety rippling down her spine. At least with Dismukes, the enemy was in the open.
“Big deal. It’ll turn out to be from a throwaway phone again.”
Nash’s frustration and bitterness was palpable, his body rigid with anger.
It was so much worse for him, even though the threat was directed at her. He’d been dealing with this for so long, Lily couldn’t fathom the pain he must have endured, was still enduring.
“Tillman and Landry will find whoever—”
The phone rang again and Lily dropped it in her lap as if it were a live thing with the power to sting. “Same number as before,” she said, inhaling sharply.
Nash scooped it up and pressed the answer button. “Who are you?” he demanded. “You fucking coward.” He dropped the phone in the console in disgust. “They hung up again.” He accelerated the truck, branches and shrubs scraping noisily against its sides. He drove as if speeding to an encounter, desperate to confront danger head-on.
“At least she knows I’m not alone,” Lily offered. “Maybe—do you suppose—we could set a trap? We could make her think I’m alone one evening while you secretly lie in wait.”
“Not a chance.”
Nash’s tone was implacable, but Lily couldn’t let go of the idea. If Nash wouldn’t do it, perhaps she could talk her brothers-in-law into it. The sooner, the better.
“I don’t like waiting for her to catch me,” she insisted. “This might be the safest option.”
“Absolutely not.” Nash pulled up to the cottage and abruptly slammed on the brakes. He turned to face her, dark eyes gleaming with intensity. “Get it out of your head. Understand?”
I understand what needs to be done. “Okay,” she agreed at once.
Nash narrowed his eyes. “I mean it,” he ground out in a voice hard as diamonds.
“I said okay.” Lily scrambled out of the truck and slammed the door. He didn’t have to be so testy on the subject.
With an impatient sigh, Nash got out and they each gathered armfuls of the gifted food from the back of the truck. In a silence that was no longer peaceful or comfortable, they climbed up the cabin steps.
A sheet of notebook paper was pinned to the door with a message written in large red block letters.
“No trespassing. Go Home Lily.”
She stared at it stupidly, the words sinking in slow, burning like hot lava. The roar of thousands of crickets and cicadas buzzed in her brain. What was it Sam used to say? Something about crickets signaling
that bad prayers and wishes were being cast upon you. She glanced behind her and then to the tree line past the yard. Was there someone out there now, waiting for a chance...one unguarded moment to snatch her into the darkness?
Nash swore under his breath, and she caught the sentiment, if not the exact words. He set the casserole dishes on a porch rocker and took the load from her arms, as well. Nash grabbed a large tree branch that had fallen near the porch steps and roughly pulled her behind his body as he tested the lock. “Stay behind me,” he ordered.
“Be careful,” she whispered against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. She pressed her head between the hard blades of his broad shoulders, inhaling his musky sandalwood scent.
The door was securely shut, so he fished keys from his jeans pocket and unlocked it. They entered, Nash’s palm curled tightly on the branch, ready for battle. Lily peaked around his shoulder. The small den appeared undisturbed, same as always. She let out a whoosh of relief as some of the tension unfurled from her tight muscles. “It looks okay,” she ventured, stepping to his side.
“Stay close,” he said shortly.
Lily willingly followed as he walked, silent and deliberate, into every room, checking closets, windows and under beds.
Nothing.
“Looks like she wasn’t able to break in,” Lily said. “We’re safe.”
“For now.”
Frustration laced his words and Lily suspected he was disappointed not to uncover an intruder. He wanted to find the culprit and end her deadly games.
“Let’s get the food put away and leave,” he said, glancing at the clock over the fireplace. “We can catch the last ferry out to the island if we hurry.”
“You think she’ll come back tonight?”
“I’m not taking any chances while you’re with me.” Nash abruptly pulled her to him and wrapped her in a fierce embrace. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever.” His breath was fiery and fervent as he kissed the top of her scalp.
He released her as quickly as he had gathered her close. “Stay in the kitchen while I bring everything in.”
They made quick work of storing everything, placing a few casseroles in the fridge and most everything else in the freezer. Lily opened a large plastic bin, grateful to find it filled with a fish stew. They could eat this tonight on the island.
Siren's Call (Dark Seas) Page 20