“Holy—”
Splash.
“Gretchen!” She was already running toward the end of the pier, and Will darted after her. “Gretchen!” She stopped at the railing and looked out over the edge.
The figure in the water splashed and writhed.
“Shit.” Will kicked off his shoes. There were screams and movement around him. A hand grabbed at his shirt as Will climbed over the rail, but he pushed it away.
“Stop him!” Gretchen’s voice.
“Will!” Angus’s voice came to him from far away.
Below, Will saw white foam around the frantic figure. Someone threw a life preserver into the water, but the figure ignored it.
“It’s Kirk Worstler,” Angus said, and then Will stepped into the open air. For a moment he was weightless as he plunged, feet first, into the water.
Will heard someone—Gretchen?—screaming his name, but in a few quick strokes he had reached the life preserver. Grabbing it, he kicked until he was face to face with Kirk. Kirk’s eyes were black, pupils dilated wide, and his dark hair streamed down his face.
“They’re coming. They’re almost here,” Kirk spluttered as a slight wave caught him in the mouth. “They’ve come for her.”
“What?” Will reached out, but Kirk slapped his hand away.
“Vengeance rushes from the mouths of the serpents. They’ve come for her—will she breathe fire on them?” Kirk looked at him. “They’ve tasted your blood.”
“Who?”
“The seekriegers are singing. They’ve come for her. Can you hear them? Can you hear them?”
“No, dude. No—I can’t hear them.”
“No?” Only Kirk’s head was visible above the water, eyes huge, pale skin. “You don’t hear them?” He looked vulnerable, like a child.
“Will,” said a voice.
It was Asia. Her head floated on the water nearby, hair slicked away from her face.
Kirk started screaming, and Will had to pin his arms to his sides. Reaching out, Asia touched Kirk’s hair. He struggled away from her, but she leaned forward and sang something into his ear. Will couldn’t catch the words—they were on his deaf side.
After a moment Kirk quieted. Then he seemed to lapse into a state of semiconsciousness.
“It’s time to go back,” Will told him. He gestured toward the shore.
Kirk had grown very still. Only his legs still beat the water, keeping him afloat. Will took loosened his grip and gently led Kirk to the red and white life preserver.
“I’m behind you,” Asia said.
“Won’t they be angry?” Kirk asked dreamily as Will kicked his way toward the shore.
“Who?”
“The seekriegers.”
Will didn’t know what that meant. “I don’t think so,” seemed like the safest answer.
“Good.” Kirk seemed to sink a little, and his eyelids drooped. “I’m so tired.”
“We’re close now.”
“I can’t hear them anymore.”
“That’s okay.”
A few of the partygoers watched from the pier, but most had gathered by the shore as Will and Kirk staggered out of the surf. Once he was back on his legs, Kirk’s body started to sag a little, and Will had to hold him up.
Will helped Kirk to the sand, where he sat shivering, knees to chin. “The seekriegers have come for her. The song sleeps on the wind, waiting for deliverance.…”
Gina appeared with a towel, which she wrapped around Kirk’s shoulders as he babbled on. People gathered around in a big circle, whispering and talking.
“Would you give him some room?” Will snapped.
Nobody did.
Will turned, expecting to see Asia nearby, but she was nowhere to be found. Was she even really there? he wondered. Or did I dream that? With his eyes, Will measured the distance from the shore to the place where Kirk had jumped. It was significant. Asia must be a strong swimmer.
“Will, hey—” It was Harry Ansell. His eyes were worried beneath his thick, straight brows. “Listen, would you … would you mind taking Kirk home?” He swept his five-hundred-dollar shaggy haircut out of his eyes. “Before the cops get here, I mean?”
“Will!” Gretchen was sprinting toward him. Angus loped behind her.
“Will—what the hell?” She punched him in the arm, hard. “What do you think you’re doing? That drug addict could’ve killed you!”
“You don’t even know the kid.” Will thought about the gentleness in Kirk’s face, the fear. “He might be crazy, but I don’t think he’s on anything.”
“I can’t believe this,” Gretchen snapped. She stalked off across the sand, toward the parking lot. Will wanted to run after her, but he was too tired. He knew she was just worried about him and that she’d calm down. Eventually.
Will looked at his friends. Ansell seemed worried. And Angus was watching Kirk, who had curled up into a ball and fallen asleep beneath the towel.
“Why did he jump?” Ansell asked.
“I don’t know—some crazy shit. Something about sea critters.”
Angus looked at him sharply. “Seekriegers?”
“What? Yeah. Why—is that a thing?”
Angus shrugged. “I don’t know. My grandfather used to talk about them.”
“What are they?”
“Mermaids or something. He used to tell me all of these stories.…”
“Like what?”
Angus shook his head. “Sorry, dude, it was a long time ago. But maybe my grandmother remembers.”
“Could we go talk to her tomorrow?”
Will knew that he must have sounded pretty desperate, because Angus was giving him a concerned look. “Sure, man. Whatever you want.”
“Maybe in the morning, before I have to work.”
“What am I going to do with this?” Ansell asked, watching Kirk sleep peacefully on the sand.
“Call his sister,” Angus suggested. “She’s used to cleaning up Kirk’s messes.”
“If I see a single word of this in the paper tomorrow …,” Ansell warned.
“You’ll what?” Angus smirked. “Buy a copy for your parents?”
“Please don’t do this to me.”
Angus looked offended. “Dude—what kind of a guy do you think I am?”
“Thanks, man.” Ansell walked back toward the pier.
“Seriously, you’re not running the story?” Will asked as he and Angus headed toward the parking lot. Will was not looking forward to riding home all wet on his motorcycle.
“Of course I’m doing a story,” Angus replied. He grinned. “Dude—what kind of a guy do you think I am? By the way, I looked into that thing.”
“What thing? You mean Asia?”
“Yeah—I dug around a little.”
“What did you find out?”
“I found out that she’s a total black hole.” Angus carefully unlocked the door of his rusted old Ford. This was the kind of thing that always used to crack Tim up—Angus locking his crappy old car when it was surrounded by Audis, Jaguars, Lexuses, Porsches. “The only thing I found out about Asia Marin is that she worked at Bella’s last summer and came back this year. No known address. No phone number. No school records, dude.”
“What about the Joyce family?” Will had e-mailed Angus the information he’d gotten from following Asia.
“They’re from the city. Fischer and Julia. They have two kids, both in their thirties. Neither one named Asia.”
“So—what does that mean?”
Angus shrugged. “It means that she’s house-sitting. It means she’s from somewhere else and comes here for the summer. No big mystery, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Will agreed. “No big mystery.” But he couldn’t keep the irony out of his voice.
Angus folded himself into his tiny car and waved before driving off. Will had just started toward his motorcycle when a movement caught his eye. It was a figure in white—Asia. She was at the far end of the driveway, walking away from the party a
t a rapid clip. Her dress was still damp and clung to her body, although it was dry enough so that the skirt fluttered at her ankles.
Will took off after her at a dead trot. His wet jeans made a swish-swish as he hurried after her.
The ground rose slightly as they headed away from the Ansell house. He was breathing heavily as he followed her, but she moved along, seemingly untroubled. Will heard a rumble behind him. He stepped aside to let the car pass. Asia didn’t bother. She didn’t look back or slow her gait as the car swerved around her.
He heard another rumble, and a car zoomed past him. It was a blue BMW. It raced forward and pulled to a stop at the top of the bridge. Jason stepped out and walked toward the railing, blocking Asia’s path.
For a moment, Will was frozen in place. He saw Jason’s hulking form step forward. He heard him say something to Asia, but Will couldn’t hear what it was. Asia opened her mouth to reply. “Shut up!” he snarled as he backed her toward the railing. “If it wasn’t you, then tell me who it was!”
“Hey!” Will shouted. He started forward at a dead run.
Jason looked over toward the shout, his face registering surprise. Just then Asia twisted backward, snakelike, over the railing, kicked Jason in the chest, and went over the side.
Jason stood there, his arms full of empty air. He raced to the rail, but Asia had already disappeared into the water.
Jason turned to Will, horror written across his face.
“Jason!” Will shouted, “Stop!” But Jason was already getting back into his car. His tires smoked as he peeled away from the bridge.
Will reached the top of the bridge. He stared down at the water. It was a long, long fall. It was the kind of fall that killed people.
But Jason hadn’t seen what Will had seen. Asia had flipped over the railing. Then she’d straightened out, her arms stretched over her head. She’d entered the water like an arrow, with hardly a splash. The slight wave folded over her feet like an envelope.
Will looked out over the water. Far down the river, close to where it entered the bay, he thought he saw a head rise out of the water. Hair fanned around it for a moment as the face glanced back at the bridge.
Then it sank into the river and disappeared.
Chapter Nine
From the Walfang Gazette
Theft at Miller Gallery
An eighteenth-century painting disappeared from the Miller Gallery last Tuesday. “I just walked in and noticed a blank spot on the wall,” said gallery director Don Beltran yesterday. The painting had been on loan as part of the “Gifts of the Sea” exhibit, on display until September 15.…
Gretchen watched the creamer tumble to the bottom of the iced coffee, leaving a trail of ghostly white in its wake. She stirred the liquid with a straw and took a sip, hoping it would wake her up, if not lift her mood.
“Hon, you’re concentrating a little bit too hard on that coffee and not enough on table fourteen,” Lisette said as she swept past, a heavy tray in her hand.
Gretchen looked up, registering the father and two young sons who had descended into her section. She took a swig of her drink, then tucked it behind the counter and went out to greet her customers. They wanted Belgian waffles with strawberries on top, and she took the orders automatically and stuck them onto the board for Angel.
“Wake up, Gretchen,” he snapped at her. “You look like a zombie.”
“Thanks,” Gretchen replied. Her body felt too heavy, her mind too numb, to think of a witty reply.
“Oh, lay off, Angel,” Lisette called from across the diner.
Gretchen grabbed her coffee and took another swig. Asia was sorting silverware nearby, smiling as Angel muttered to himself. “How does she get away with it?” Gretchen asked, half to herself.
“Lisette?” Asia looked up. “You mean, why doesn’t Angel get angry with her teasing?”
“Yeah. If anyone else talked that way to him, he’d be pissed.”
Asia shrugged. “He’s in love with her.”
“What? Oh my God, I thought they hated each other!”
Asia laughed softly. “No. They’re getting married next summer.”
“Whoa—I had no idea.” Gretchen sneaked a glance at sour-looking Angel, a prisoner behind his window. He was scowling at the waffle iron. “How did you find that out?”
“Sometimes people just tell me things.”
“I’m going on break, ladies.” Lisette pulled off her apron and stuffed it into a cubby behind the counter. “Anyone want anything from Conrad’s?”
“Get me a pack of that gum you’re always smacking.” This was from Angel.
“Was I asking you? See you all in fifteen.” Lisette gave them a toodle-loo wave and headed toward the rear.
Gretchen noticed the smile Lisette and Angel exchanged just before she pushed open the back door. She wondered how many of those glances she had missed.
Taking another pull of coffee, Gretchen reached for her notebook. A paper fell out, fluttering to the floor. Asia reached down to get it. “Good news?” she asked as she handed it back to Gretchen, face down.
Gretchen let one shoulder rise, then dip. “It’s just—a letter from my mother.”
The clean spoons clinked as Asia dropped them into their compartment. She didn’t speak or even look at Gretchen.
“She wants me to come live with her … in Paris.”
Asia nodded as she reached for the knives. “Will you go?”
“I don’t … I don’t know.” Gretchen tucked the paper into the notebook.
Asia nodded. “It’s not really about choosing one place or another, is it?” Her eyes held Gretchen’s.
“I’ve never been close to my mother,” Gretchen admitted. “She’s …” Gretchen shook her head, unsure how to describe Yvonne. “She isn’t my birth mother.”
“Does that matter?” Asia asked.
“Not really. My dad isn’t my birth dad, either, and I’m close to him. But I just think that she never really saw me as her daughter. She just saw me as this … person.”
Asia considered this. “But living with her might give you an opportunity to get to know her.”
“Or it might make me insane,” Gretchen countered. “And it would probably break my dad’s heart.”
“It sounds like you don’t want to go,” Asia said.
“Not particularly.”
“And yet you’re carrying around this letter.”
Gretchen sighed. “I guess I’m not sure I want to stay here, either.” She felt the pressure building in her throat.
Asia placed a hand on Gretchen’s arm. “The memories will follow you,” she said. Her voice was soft and somehow comforting, although the words were disturbing. The memories will follow me, Gretchen thought, and in an instant she was back on the beach. Her vision was filled with fire.
It was night, and the sail of Tim’s boat was in flames. Will was lying on the sand beside her, unconscious, and Gretchen was shivering in wet clothes. She didn’t know how she’d gotten there. She didn’t know how the fire had started. All she knew was that she was terrified. Gretchen checked to make sure that Will was alive. But when she heard the police sirens, she left Will on the shore and ran through the darkness to her own home. She heard Guernsey barking in the background as she sneaked quietly into her room. She peeled off her wet clothes and tossed them into the washing machine before her father realized anything was wrong.
Gretchen had desperately wanted to tell Will everything, but she didn’t know how. Part of her was terrified that Will would blame her for Tim’s death. And maybe I am guilty, Gretchen thought. That was the most frightening part—she didn’t know for sure.
“Gretchen!” Angel yelled. Gretchen jumped, startled. She turned and saw him glowering. “Order up.”
With a shaking hand, Gretchen grabbed the three Belgian waffles and delivered them to table fourteen.
When she got back to the counter, she saw that Asia had refilled her iced coffee. “Thanks,” Gretchen said.
>
“I’m back!” Lisette called as she bustled through the rear door. “Got your gum, you jerk.” She tucked it into the rear pocket of Angel’s hideous black-and-white-checked pants. She stuffed her purse into the cubby and pulled out her apron. “What did I miss?” she asked as she tied the apron strings.
Me spilling my guts out to Asia, Gretchen thought.
“We were just talking,” Asia said at last.
“Well, chat time’s over, toots,” Lisette told her. “Those ladies just sat in your section.”
“Back to work,” Asia said as she got to her feet. She gave Gretchen a warm glance and a gentle pat on the shoulder.
Gretchen watched as Asia glided over to the older women. They smiled up at her as if she were a friend. Sometimes people just tell me things, Asia had said.
People, Gretchen thought. Like me.
“Gran!” Angus called as they slammed in through the back door and straight into the kitchen. “Gran!”
A white cockatiel in a cage squawked at them from its perch near the refrigerator. The house smelled stale, but the kitchen was tidy. Angus’s grandmother didn’t cook much.
“For God’s sake, quit yelling.” Angus’s grandmother shuffled in from the living room, a cigarette in one hand and an ashtray in the other. “And stop calling me Gran. My name’s Roberta.” She perched primly onto a cushioned metal folding chair and gave Will the eye. “Who’s this?”
“It’s Will, Gran. You’ve met him a hundred times.” Angus had his arm buried up to the elbow in a cookie jar shaped like a giant strawberry.
“Hello, Mrs. McFarlan.”
Angus’s grandmother took a long drag on her cigarette. Then she touched her bleached hair gingerly with a long, manicured nail. “You’re the Archer boy,” she said, eyeing his scar.
“Gran, you call these cookies?” Angus complained through a mouthful of Oreo crumbs. “They’re stale!”
“Don’t eat those; they’re ancient. They’ll probably kill you.”
Angus swallowed. He’d already polished off three. “Eh, they’re not awful. You want one?” This was directed at Will.
“I’m good.”
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