Haven of Swans

by Colleen Coble

  He and Bree rested in a meadow. Lying back with his hand over his eyes, he wished he could sleep, then wake up to find out it had all been a nightmare. The odor of mud, crushed grass, and wildflowers lulled him, and his eyes closed, then he jerked awake. He couldn’t sleep, no matter how tired he was. Eve was depending on him.

  He lurched to his feet and wished he didn’t have to awaken Bree, but he didn’t know how to work with Samson. Kneeling, he shook her shoulder gently, and she came instantly awake.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  They took off again. Even though they walked for hours, evening surprised him when it fell. They stopped to let Samson rest, and Nick heard a vehicle moving slowly down the lane. They stayed on the ground where they rested and watched its approach. It was Kade’s truck. He pulled it to the side of the road and got out.

  “I brought some food,” Kade said.

  Nick realized he was ravenous. “Thanks,” he said.

  The night sounds echoed around him. Crickets chirped, and an owl hooted overhead. The wind in the treetops brought the scent of pine to his nose.

  Bree got up and hugged her husband. “You’re a lifesaver.” The dog yawned and stretched, then stood. “Any news?” Bree asked.

  “No.” Kade put his arm around her. “Naomi came back to town. She and Charley are exhausted and never did get a trail.”

  “How are the kids?” Nick asked.

  “Fine. Still with Anu.”

  Bree glanced down at her dog. “He’s rested some. Maybe he’ll get it.” She dug in her bag and pulled out three bags. “We’ll let him sniff all of them. Maybe he’ll get a whiff of Eve or Dad.”

  Samson sniffed each bag. His head came up.

  “Search, Samson,” Bree said without much hope in her voice.

  The dog moved around the clearing. He stopped and sampled the air again. His tail began to wag, and his ears came up. He leaped across a patch of wildflowers and headed south, away from the place they had found Bernard.

  “He’s got a scent!” Bree shouted.

  Fresh strength flowed through Nick’s muscles, and he sprang after the dog.

  EVE COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT OLIVER WAS waiting for. The day had been strange in the extreme. He’d wheeled his wife into the cabin, then left them to do something outside.

  She gazed down into Miranda’s face. The room was so dark she could barely make out the woman’s face, but everything about her was etched in Eve’s memory by now.

  There was little resemblance of the lovely young woman she’d once been. Her hair was thin and dry now, lying almost without color on the pillow. Her sallow skin didn’t have a hint of the pink it used to. She was so gaunt that she barely raised the sheet from the gurney.

  Worst of all, her face was pitted with deep scars. Her mouth twisted in a hideous grimace.

  And it was all Eve’s fault.

  “I’m sorry, Miranda,” she whispered. “You don’t know how sorry I am. There was no excuse, but I was young and blind.”

  She approached the gurney, wishing she could make amends. Miranda hadn’t stirred since Oliver brought her in. Eve touched her hand, then snatched it away. It was cold, so cold. Could Miranda be dead?

  Eve shuddered and told herself it wasn’t possible.

  Eve tried not to imagine—in graphic detail—what Oliver intended to do to her. Reading Dante’s Divine Comedy had left her nightmare-ridden for a week when she was nineteen. He’d be sure to make it as painful as possible.

  She heard him coming and turned to face the door. Metal to metal, the key grated in the door, then it creaked open and allowed the light from the lantern he held aloft to spill into the room.

  He was smiling.

  The expression made her feel worse. Blood pulsed in her throat, and she vowed she wouldn’t make it easy for him. Whatever he planned was outside, and she intended to take any opportunity to escape. Better to die trying than to just let him have his little game.

  Oliver approached the gurney that held his wife. “How are you, my dear?” He didn’t wait for an answer but opened the door and wheeled her out.

  Eve sprang to her feet. She intended to try to squeeze through the doorway, but he slammed and locked the door before she could.

  “Are you so eager to begin? How self-sacrificing.” The door muted the words.

  The rattle of the gurney as it passed around the side of the cabin was muffled by the cabin walls, but Eve was able to track their progress. When the noise reached the back, she stepped to the window and looked out to see him lift his wife from the gurney and lay her in a boat. Miranda seemed strangely stiff. He stepped into the craft, and the sound of the motor started.

  Miranda had died. Eve was sure of it. She tried to remember what she’d heard about rigor mortis. Didn’t it start about three hours after death? Miranda wasn’t fully stiff yet, so maybe she’d been dead about that long.

  Eve watched him guide the boat out across the water toward the tiny island in the middle.

  The swans trumpeted and flapped their wings to signal their protest as the boat passed, but they didn’t fly away. Instead, they swam toward Oliver, and he threw them bits of a sandwich.

  Eve guessed it was a peanut butter sandwich.

  She lost sight of him, and it seemed like forever before she heard the sound of the boat returning. When the boat docked, he looked up and saw her staring out the window and gave a jaunty wave. Still smiling, he approached the cabin and disappeared around the side.

  Waiting for his key to scrape in the lock again, she felt nearly faint. When the wait had gone on longer than expected, she darted to the window and saw him exiting the van with a soft suitcase.

  She grabbed up the chair and hefted it over her head. The key rattled in the lock, and he entered the cabin. Using all her strength, she swung the chair at his head.

  He leaped out of the way and knocked it out of her hand with the smile still in place. He tossed her the small satchel. “Put that on.”

  Shaking her head, she backed away.

  “You would rather I kill you now?” With a casual gesture, he showed her the knife in his hand.

  She shrank back with her eyes on the blade. She had no doubt he knew how to use it. “I can’t change with you in here.”

  “Five minutes.” He went to the door and locked it behind him.

  Her only chance was to get outside this cabin. Eve knelt and unzipped the satchel. What a strange-looking getup. She touched the brown garment and realized it was a gown made of some incredibly rough, greasy cloth that scratched her fingers when she touched it.

  A haircloth, just like Dante’s sinners wore.

  Dropping the gown, she shuddered and rubbed her palms on her jeans. The thing was nasty. What was she going to do? She couldn’t put it on.

  But he’d make her.

  Either she could do it willingly and with courage, or he’d kill her here and now. While there was life, there was hope. Shucking off her jeans and shirt, she picked up the oily cloth and dropped it over her head. The material itched and irritated.

  She missed hearing Oliver’s entrance until he was right behind her.

  “Shall we go?” He wrapped a rope around her wrists and began to tie her up.

  She flexed her wrists as much as she could as he secured her hands behind her, then he took her arm in a tight grip and marched her outside.

  Eve stumbled over the rough ground as he pushed her. The night air had never tasted so fresh. He forced her into the boat and cuffed her to a mooring cleat. Without another word, he stepped in and pushed the boat into the lake. He started the motor, then guided it toward the island, overgrown and wild. Eve watched its approach. Her bare arms pebbled with goose bumps. Working the ropes, she felt them give a little.

  The swans swam to meet them. Digging into a bag on the bottom of the boat, Gideon began to throw bits of peanut butter sandwiches all around in the water. They flocked to the food.

  Eve couldn’t see the water because of the birds.
There had to be hundreds of them.

  He switched off the motor and threw an anchor overboard before stepping into the water and dragging the boat ashore.

  “What are you going to do?” Eve’s voice trembled. “Why am I dressed like this if you’re going to blind me and take my face?”

  He unlocked the cuffs and tossed them into the pond. His face was set but serene, and he didn’t seem to be listening.

  “I know sorry isn’t good enough, Oliver, but I really am sorry. I was young and stupid. If only I could do it all over again.” She remembered that night like it was yesterday.

  She heard the music, saw herself imitating the intricate steps she’d seen Miranda perform in practice, a routine Miranda had choreographed herself. It had been so natural to steal the steps she admired. Eve almost didn’t realize she’d done it until the crowd was on its feet, cheering.

  Eve would never forget the look on Miranda’s face when she started her own performance.

  Moments later, Miranda lost her balance and fell headfirst from the stage into the lights. Then her clothes had burst into flames. Eve shuddered at the memory.

  “You stole Miranda’s dance steps. She could only compensate for it by trying something daring and different. Something dangerous.” He stood on the bank, pointing his finger at her. “You brought this on yourself.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “But why now, after all these years?”

  “The first years we spent going from doctor to doctor. With every one who told me there was nothing he could do, my hatred of you grew. For solace, I turned to learning, to seeking the truth. The truth is that pain shapes us. Even Miranda. She’ll be stronger for all this. But she’s suffered long enough. Now it’s your turn to be educated. And her turn to have a new face.”

  He grabbed her arm, hauled her out of the boat, then propelled her to the cabin that squatted in the center of the tiny circle of land that wasn’t much bigger than the building.

  She fought him, trying to bite him, to kick him, but her struggles were futile with her hands tied behind her. He thrust open the door and dragged her inside. Music blared from speakers, and bright lights shocked her unadjusted eyes. She shuddered at the music—“Black Swan Pas de Deux.”

  Blinking in the bright wash of light, she stood swaying in the middle of the room while he shut and locked the door. In the Swan Queen’s white costume, Miranda lay on what looked like an operating table under the lights. Other medical equipment flanked the room.

  Her gaze went to the table holding a big sewing needle and wire. Her stomach cramped, and she nearly doubled over. He was ready to inflict plenty of pain.

  Oliver went to the metal table and picked up the needle and wire. His smile seemed easy and relaxed.

  The needle’s evil glint drew Eve’s attention. “You don’t know how to transplant a face,” she whispered. “You’ll kill Miranda as well as me.” Her gaze went to the other woman. There was now no doubt in her mind that Miranda had died already. Should she tell Oliver, or would it inflame him more?

  “I went to medical school, you know,” he said. “And I’ve extensively studied the procedure. She’ll die anyway if I don’t try. She has leukemia.”

  She might as well go for it. Eve nodded to the gurney. “She’s dead already, Oliver. Look at her. You killed her by taking her from care.”

  His eyes flashed. “Your lies won’t work. Miranda will live and love me again.”

  Eve backed away as he came toward her. Twisting her wrists in the ropes, she felt them give more. If she could keep him talking until she got her hands free, she had a chance. “Why did you take the other women if you wanted me?”

  “Ballerinas should be above reproach. Gifted with so much beauty and grace, you should guard your morals. When I found one who fell, I removed her.”

  She knew she had to tread carefully. Goad him enough to keep him talking and explaining himself without pushing him over the edge.

  “But they’re all blonde like me. And Miranda. I think you like killing. You justify your urges by telling yourself you were ordained to preserve the ballet’s status, but it’s not true.”

  His smile faltered. “That’s not true. I have a mission.”

  “What happens when I’m dead? Will you keep watching for more blonde ballerinas to kill? I think you will. I don’t think it’s about Miranda at all. It’s about you.”

  He was shaking his head, coming nearer with the wicked needle and wire.

  She wrenched her wrists so hard that pain radiated up to her shoulder. One hand slid out of the rope, then the other. She was free! Still backing away, she calculated her opportunity. He’d locked the door, so she needed time to get it unlocked and open.

  Oliver began to thread the curved needle with wire. Eve took the chance. She ran at him, using her strong legs to drive her headfirst into his pudgy stomach. He reeled, knocking over a stainless steel cart and sending the scalpels and other instruments falling to the floor. His head slammed into the cart, and he slumped at its base.

  Eve darted past his feet and fumbled with the deadbolt. The thing was new and stiff and resisted her efforts until she realized she was twisting it the wrong way. She got it open and ran outside.

  Gideon shouted behind her, but she was already shoving the boat into the water. She got in and managed to get the motor started. It puttered much slower than she would have liked. Turning, she saw Gideon wading in after her. Oliver, teeth bared, threw himself at the boat and managed to grab the edge. She turned to dive out, then reconsidered.

  The swans were coming to meet them. Hundreds of swans.

  31

  Perspiration dripped down Nick’s forehead. The terrain had been mostly uphill, and they had to sidestep heavy vegetation often. At least the moon was out, though the thick trees blocked much of its glow.

  He broke through the underbrush to find Bree and Kade sitting on a tree stump. Bree’s mouth drooped, and Samson lay at her feet.

  “What’s wrong?” Nick asked.

  “Samson’s exhausted, and he’s lost the trail again,” Kade said softly. “I’m letting Bree sleep awhile. She’s about to drop where she stands.”

  “I’m awake.” Bree sighed and got up. “Now that I’ve got a little strength back, I’m going to climb a tree and try to get a signal so I can talk to my dad.”

  “It’s nearly eleven,” Kade pointed out.

  “Maybe he’ll be lucid. I just need some kind of clue to where we’re going. You know these woods, Kade. If he could just tell us something, we might know where to head.”

  “I’ll climb,” Nick said.

  “He wouldn’t talk to you. Kade offered, too, but I’m the one he’d be most apt to talk to.” She got up and went to an oak tree. “One of you want to give me a hand up? Sorry to be a weenie, but I’m so tired.”

  “I’ll do it.” Kade went to his wife. Lacing his fingers together, he made a ledge of his hands for her to put her foot on. He hoisted her higher when she stepped onto his laced fingers.

  She grabbed the tree limb and swung up into the branches. “Be right back.” She disappeared into the foliage.

  Nick swept the beam of his flashlight around while he waited. The light didn’t penetrate much, and every tree looked like another. It would be easy to get lost out here. He could hear Bree’s voice, muffled by the leaves. Settling on the ground, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  The first time he’d seen Eve had been magic. She was dancing in The Nutcracker. He’d never seen anyone so graceful. Floating around the dance floor, she embodied the music. He hadn’t anticipated his reaction, because he wasn’t a ballet sort of guy. His mother had wanted them all to go for her birthday, and she’d dragged him kicking and screaming.

  But he’d fallen for Eve in that moment. He hung around backstage until she’d changed and was leaving for the night. Her face scrubbed clean of makeup, she was even more beautiful up close.

  He smiled, remembering how hard it had been to talk her into go
ing out for coffee.

  Bree gave a wild yell from the tree, and her feet slid into view. “He gave me something!”

  Kade reached up and helped her down, holding her a minute before he let go. “What’d he say?”

  “He kept talking about fishing. And he said something about the swans on the pond. Isn’t there an old fishing cabin clear at the end of the fire trail? I seem to remember something about it.”

  “Yeah. I haven’t been back that way in ages though. You think he could have gotten that far?” Kade asked.

  “It’s worth a shot. Let’s go look.”

  “How far are we?” Nick asked.

  Bree consulted her GPS and showed it to Kade. “What do you think—maybe a half mile?”

  “I’d guess about that,” Kade said. “I think the trail is about a quarter mile west of here. If we get on it first, we can make better time.”

  “Lead the way,” Nick said. “Maybe we’re not too late.”

  A SWAN ROSE OFF THE WATER AND BEAT AT HER face with its wings. Eve fell back in the boat, landing on the wooden bottom. The hairshirt tore at her flesh, and she thought she felt a trickle of blood. The swan advanced with its neck outstretched. Trumpeting its outrage, the swan jabbed at her leg with its beak, breaking the skin and drawing blood.

  She kicked out, and the swan toppled into the water.

  Oliver climbed into the boat, rocking it wildly as she tried to right herself. He cut the motor. “They want more food.” Oliver stooped to lift the bag of sandwiches.

  Not stopping to think or plan, Eve sprang to her feet, braced her legs, and rocked the boat powerfully to the right. If she went into the water with the swans, at least she’d go down fighting.

  When the boat dipped, Oliver flung out his hands to try to balance himself. It looked as though he might succeed as the boat settled.

  Eve balanced herself and lifted her leg in a quick grande battement. Her toe struck him on the shoulder, and he flailed, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from toppling headfirst into the water. He went under, then his head popped up in the midst of the swans.