by Jasmine Walt
There were humans who could shift their shapes. But that tribe of people shifted into land mammals, reptiles, and birds. And they were all in the Americas.
The storm raged on above me. I turned my attention back to the people who’d fallen from the sinking ship. I raced to them, kicking my legs powerfully, shoving the water out of my way with my arms until I reached them.
Neither man appeared to kick, flail, or fight for his life. Their arms were stretched above them, as though hoping for the guiding hand of a god or an angel.
I wrapped my arm around the first man. In the water, bodies weighed less, so I was able to maneuver him in one arm while I used my other to steer me toward his companion.
Reaching the second man, I grabbed his limp body. It was difficult to propel forward without the use of my arms, but I managed. I was strong enough to heft them through the waters and get them back to my ship. Superhuman, remember.
It took me twice as long to make it back with my human cargo. The storm continued to wail and groan behind me as it focused its attack on the abandoned ship and left mine in relative peace. With Loren’s help, I hefted the two bodies onto the deck.
One man wore the dark blue and gold braids of a captain. The other wore a simple white shirt and slacks. He could’ve been a passenger or one of the captain’s mates. There was no way for me to tell. The captain had a gash across his forehead. His mate looked as though his arm might be broken. The limb rested at an odd angle.
Loren began CPR on the mate while I started compressions on the captain. The mate coughed up water and then immediately howled in pain, grasping at his twisted arm. He went silent when he saw me working on the captain. The mate clutched at his arm and gritted his teeth. He looked as though he was holding his breath as we all waited for the captain to take a breath of his own.
Finally, the older man gasped and then coughed up the sea. I turned him on his side to help get the salt water out of his airway. A shiver went through his body as he shifted onto his back. His eyes were unfocused, but the one word he uttered was clear.
“Father?” said the captain. His head turned back in the direction of his failing vessel, and his hand reached out.
The man beside the captain looked too young to be his father. I turned back to the sinking ship. I hadn’t seen another body in the water. Was someone else still trapped on the distressed boat?
The waters continued to batter the sides of the ship. The vessel looked like it had sunk lower on the horizon. It was only a matter of time before the sea swallowed it whole. There wasn’t time to debate. I stood at the side of my boat and dove back into the water to save the captain’s father.
In the depths, it was silent and peaceful. The moon’s light broke through the water to shine in the darkness. The water that flowed past my ears was a silent symphony of calm. But when I broke the surface, the gale winds came from every direction, battering the ship. In hundreds of years of sailing the open waters and coastal areas, I’d never seen an isolated storm such as this. I peered over my shoulder and saw my yacht was in relatively calm waters in comparison.
The other ship had sunk low enough that it was no trouble climbing aboard. When I did, the waters that had cradled me on my way here turned abusive. The ripples lashed out at me from every direction. The waters washed anything not bolted overboard and into the churning waters.
Sandwiched in a corner, I found a man. When I got to him, I noted he looked young, much younger than the captain. If this man had any children, they couldn’t be more than toddlers, even if he’d started very young. Was someone else still on board? Then I saw the priest collar gripped in his hand. So, not a biological father but a spiritual one.
The man had passed out. He was unresponsive but alive. I put him over my back and dove into the waters just in time. The ship groaned as the waves claimed it.
In the waters, I saw that flash of white again, like sheer cloth that would cover a woman’s legs as she reposed. But instead of feet, I saw a blinding light. It knocked me back, pulling me under.
It felt as though something was tethered around my foot, yanking me down to the seafloor. The force was strong. I was stronger, but I was also tired. Still, I knew I had to fight.
I could hold my breath underwater for an inhumanly long time. But the man I carried couldn’t. I kicked for the surface and finally broke through, feeling the heartbeat of the man on my back. It was weak, but it was there.
As I made my way to my boat, I noticed that the winds had stopped. The waves were calming. An eerie stillness settled over the water. A glance over my shoulder showed me that the other boat was sinking faster now. In just a matter of minutes it would be gone, as though it had never been there at all.
It had taken the Titanic nearly three hours to sink. I knew. I’d watched it go down as people around me shivered and others sank to their deaths. The boat before me was nowhere near the size of that doomed vessel. It also hadn’t split in two. But it sank as though it had been broken into a million tiny pieces. It also sank straight down, not tilting up or to the side like a normal sinking vessel.
I couldn’t stare and wonder at the marvel any longer. For the third time tonight, I had a non-responsive man mounted on my back, which wasn’t doing much for my feminine ego. I was so exhausted that my tired was tired by the time I got myself and my quarry back on board my boat.
“Oh,” Loren said, placing a dramatic hand to her chest as her eyebrows rose. “Look what the storm dragged in.” She gave the man a coquettish look that would have been funny had he been awake.
With the third man laid out on the deck, I could see what she was fussing about. This guy was handsome. He reminded me of that tall actor with the deep Texas drawl, Matthew McConaughey. This man had the same dirty-blond hair. His limbs were long and muscled, his chin square, and his cheekbones high. His lips were blue at the moment, but their shape hinted that they could be set in a serious line or pulled up in a sensual grin.
He’d lost his collar somewhere in the waters. I didn’t bother warning Loren off. He was unconscious. There was nothing she could do—at least, I didn’t think so.
I assumed I would have to fight her over who would get to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but before I could even begin compressions, his eyes opened. He coughed up sea water. And when his lungs were empty, his eyes fastened onto Loren. They were blue, by the way. I would’ve sworn this guy was the Hollywood actor… until he began to speak.
“Are you an angel?” he drawled, but his accent wasn’t southern. At least not from the southern part of the United States. He was Italian. Maybe the south of Italy.
Loren sighed. I did, too. But they were two entirely different sounds.
Part of the reason Loren and I were out sailing was to get over our past relationships. Loren was anti-relationship as a rule, but she’d been betrayed by the only guy she’d dated more than once. I had recently broken up with my boyfriend of five hundred years and then started dating a guy I’d dated a thousand years ago. But a couple of weeks ago, I’d fallen back into bed with my ex. I’d come to the sea hoping to find myself, but I was still wallowing in confusion. Loren was already on to the next guy.
“Welcome to heaven,” she said.
“I am delivered.” He reached out to her. His fingers hovered just before her face, as though he dared not touch a celestial being.
“Father Gerard?” said the captain.
Loren’s face contorted as she looked between the two men. The captain was clearly the elder of the two.
“Father?” Loren said.
Father Gerard sat up, wincing as he did so.
I reached to check his body in an attempt to find any blood or broken bones. “Careful,” I warned, even as I didn’t find anything amiss on his person. It was miraculous he’d survived at all. But survived with his body intact? That was supernatural.
“The boat?” Father Gerard asked, trying to look out on the horizon.
“It’s gone down,” I confirmed.
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Father Gerard looked around, as though to count his shipmates.
“We’re all here,” the captain confirmed.
His shipmate sat beside him with his arm in a makeshift brace courtesy of Loren.
“It is by the grace of God we are still on this earth,” said the captain in a shaky voice, his eyes still wide from their ordeal.
No, it was by the grace of me. But as always for my great feats, I didn’t get any credit.
The priest stood on weak legs and looked out at the sinking ship. Nothing remained of the vessel. The waters and wind had calmed now that the ship had gone down.
“Lord, have mercy,” muttered the man of God. Father Gerard turned back to Loren and me, assessing us. “How did you save us?”
“Oh…” I said. “We just fished you out of the water. No big deal.”
“We owe you our lives.” The priest’s voice was fervent. His attention remained on Loren. “You must be our guardian angel.”
I tugged at my soaked top. My lips pressed into a mute slash. I decided to not be jealous as the credit went elsewhere.
“I’ve never seen a storm like that,” the captain said. “Been sailing these waters all my life.” Unlike Father Gerard, the captain sounded as though he was a Welshman.
“Where were you all headed?” I asked.
“Shropshire,” Father Gerard answered.
“We’re headed near there. We’ll radio the Coast Guard about your boat and get you guys to land.”
“Thank you,” he said. Again, to Loren and not me.
“We should probably get you out of those wet clothes,” Loren said suggestively as she guided him below deck.
I sighed. She was incorrigible.
3
“Loren, you can’t flirt with a priest.”
“I’ve never seen that written in the Bible.”
I sighed again as I steered the ship. I’d been doing that a lot—the sighing, I meant. But I didn’t know which surprised me more—her words or that she might’ve actually read the Bible. Sailing was smooth now. The storm was gone, and we were getting nearer to land.
“He called me an angel,” she said. “No man has ever called me that.”
“He meant it biblically.”
“I’d like to get to know him in the biblical way.” She elbowed me in the ribs, laughing.
The man in question was walking about in a too-small terrycloth bathrobe as his clothes continued to dry out in the sun. It would seem he had no issues with modesty. He was certainly unlike any priest I’d ever met.
The captain and skipper were resting below deck recovering from their injuries. I’d patched up the captain’s head. After examining the skipper’s arm, I found it was only a mild sprain and not an actual break, but it needed support and rest.
“Feeling better?” Loren asked as Father Gerard came over and sat in one of the lounge-like deck chairs.
He kicked up his bare feet and rested his forearms on the chair arms. Leaning his head back, he smiled up at Loren.
“Feeling fantastic,” he said. He sounded educated, but there was a hint of the streets on his tongue. “There’s nothing like a near-death experience to get the blood pumping.”
Loren sat next to him, giving him the side-eye. “Oh, I know a few things that could—”
“So, Father,” I cut her off, emphasizing the man’s occupation. “You were ordained by the Roman Catholic Church?”
“Uh…” He took a deep breath and then let out the next word in a gush of air. “No.”
I blinked, waiting. He stared back, breathing easily now but not offering any other explanation.
“Oh,” I said, putting the boat on self-steering to come and stand at the railing before him. “I just assumed, you know, since you’re Italian.”
He grinned. “Not all Italians are Catholics.”
“I know that.” Great. Now I sounded like a narrow-minded racist who had a prejudice against Catholics, which was far from the truth. I was uncomfortable around any humans who praised a deity, seen or unseen. “I just thought that because I saw you with the collar.”
“My collar?” He touched his bare neck. Then he looked down to his hand, the one he’d been holding the collar in when I’d found him. But, like his neck, his hand was bare, empty. “I seemed to have lost it.”
He took in another of those deep breaths. When he let this one out, it didn’t come with any words. It just came with a half-hearted shrug.
“You’ve lost your faith?” Loren asked.
“Yes, I suppose I have.” He looked up into the sky. “You would too if you’d seen the things I’ve seen.”
His eyes took on a haunted sheen. His square jaw clenched. His lips pursed.
“Are you a soldier?” I asked.
Another deep breath through his nostrils. This time, he let out a soft chuckle. “That I am.”
“War has lost many a man his faith,” I said. I didn’t ask which war he’d fought or ministered in. There was always more than one going on at any point in time of human history.
“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I haven’t lost my faith in God.” He spread his arms wide. “His glory is great indeed. Look at how he delivered me from the waves of death last night.”
I sucked my teeth, but I didn’t correct him. I didn’t usually crave credit for my heroic acts. These were just three guys I’d happened upon and saved. I’d saved the entire country of Greece a couple of weeks ago, and had I asked for a parade? No. But a little thank you from a shipwreck survivor couldn’t be too much to expect.
“Jesus Christ is now and will forever be my savior,” Father Gerard continued.
I only nodded. I didn’t let it be known I had known the man. He’d been called Yeshua in my time. He had also been called a prophet and a philosopher. It wasn’t until his untimely death that his followers began calling him a savior.
By the time he was betrayed by his disciples, I had already left and sailed across the oceans to the land that would one day become known as America. So, I wasn’t sure if he actually rose from the grave. But the man I had known had been miraculous. Many of the miracles attributed to him had actually been true.
He was indeed a great healer. He was a heck of a fisherman. The water-into-wine thing, well, I had an explanation for that feat. But I’d never gotten to ask him how he’d managed the walking-on-water bit. And, to this day, I still couldn’t puzzle out how he’d done it.
Of course, I didn’t tell Father Gerard this. Humans would get uncomfortable anytime I mentioned I had been on a first-name basis with their savior.
“It’s my faith in man that I’ve lost,” Father Gerard said, sounding tired. “I renounced my vows to the Church. I am only a humble servant of my God now. I keep his covenants over the laws of mankind.”
I kept my smart mouth shut instead of asking him which covenant. There was the Noahic covenant where God promised never to destroy the world again and left the rainbow as the sign of this promise. There was the Abrahamic covenant that granted Abraham and a multitude of descendants a promised bit of land. There were the Mosaic covenants that included the Ten Commandments.
And there were others, but I remained mute. The man had been through an ordeal. A religious debate was the last thing he needed. But Loren didn’t hold her tongue.
“So…” Loren said, drawing the word out. “That whole vow-of-celibacy thing?”
“Loren,” I bit out.
She looked at me as though I was the one who had said something wrong.
Father Gerard only chuckled. “Though I no longer wear the collar, I do keep my priestly covenants. I maintain my vow of poverty, in that I own no property. My vow of obedience, in that I obey the laws of the one who commands my heart. And, yes, there is also a vow of chastity.”
“Oh,” Loren said, her lower lip pouting at the fact she wouldn’t get any spirited activity today. But then she rallied, and her chest rose. At least she’d had the decency to put on a bra now that
there were males onboard. “Wait, do you mean chastity in terms of pure of heart?”
“No.” Father Gerard smiled. It wasn’t a sad or sorrowful smile, and somehow his gaze managed a sensual reverence. “I am celibate.”
“Of course you are.” Loren’s chest caved, and her shoulders slumped.
“Physical love is only one way to love,” he offered.
“Yeah…” Loren sighed. “The best way.”
“What were you all doing out at sea?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
Father Gerard answered without tearing his gaze from Loren. “We sailed from Rome.”
“Just a pleasure cruise?” I asked.
“Sadly, no.”
I waited, but I had neither his attention nor any more of his words. He was still transfixed by Loren, whose wistful gaze was now on the horizon instead of the hunk.
“Business, then?” I asked.
“Hmm?” he said. “Oh, yes. I have some business to attend to in Shropshire.”
“Why not fly into Manchester Airport? It’s much quicker and safer.”
“I like a bit of an adventure,” he said.
“So do I,” Loren said. “We just came from Greece after battling Greek gods. Now we’re headed to England to help out some knights.”
I glared at her for telling this stranger the truth. But the truth was far stranger than any fiction, and in response, Father Gerard only chuckled. Loren shrugged at me, as if to say no one would ever believe the stories we had to tell.
“I’m on a quest for knights as well,” Father Gerard said.
“Really?” Loren asked. “To Camelot?”
My expression pinched as I glared at her. Loren had been thrust into a world where magic thrived. She didn’t know all the rules. Mainly the first rule, which was “Don’t talk about Supernatural Club.”
Father Gerard’s eyes narrowed as his smile sharpened, like a shark’s. My hackles went up at the abrupt change in his demeanor.
“You know of the Arthurian Legends?” he asked.
