“He was tied to the top of a wagon. There were a lot of wagons, all gathered around in a circle, like in one of those old movies.”
None of them would know what a movie was, but it didn’t matter. It was enough. Michael’s face turned grim, and Corbbmacc’s lost its color.
“Reavers,” Garrett said softly.
CHAPTER THREE
The following morning found Emily standing alone at the edge of the lake as the sun climbed the sky over the mountains to the east. Waves lapped at the toes of her boots, and the pack the wizard had grudgingly produced from the depths of his cave rested heavily on her shoulders.
There was more weighing her down than the few provisions and meager belongings in her pack, though; she should’ve gone for Daniel sooner. Too many days had passed while she’d wasted time trying to make the others see.
But in the end, they had seen—all but the wizard, anyway. She wasn’t sure if that was a victory or not. Did it matter, really? Why hadn’t she just gone on her own? Why had it been so important to her that they understand?
That was a question for which she still had no answer. Maybe it was the remnants of the responsibility she’d felt toward Michael; maybe it was the bond they’d shared across worlds—across lives—that she was only just beginning to rediscover. She didn’t know. She might never know.
What she did know, beyond any doubt, was that she didn’t want to burn her bridges with Michael and the others. They were her family—no, more than that: they were her team. They’d battled side by side; they’d shed blood together.
Besides, she mused, if she had gone after Daniel sooner, she would have started out in the wrong direction. The delay had afforded her one more peek into the crystal she’d brought back from the mines, and now she had at least some idea where to find him. That was a silver lining, she supposed.
The image of Daniel rose to the surface of her mind, still agonizing in its brutality. She could see the blood in his hair and the shape of every bruise on his young and narrow face. She’d spent the last few weeks trying to save one boy, and now here she was, determined to chase after another. Was that going to be her destiny? Would she go on doing the same things again and again, endlessly, until this life was exchanged for the next? It was a horrifying thought.
She believed in her heart of hearts that Daniel was still alive, but how could she be sure? There had been no way to tell from the glimpse she’d caught of him in the vision. Maybe the wizard was right. Maybe that was just his body, broken and lifeless, that had been strapped to the top of that wagon, its soul already flown off to its next destination.
It doesn’t matter, Em, she told herself. You promised.
She watched the waves as they foamed and crashed, gradually becoming aware of a subtle shift in the air around her. It was, she thought, as though all the creatures of the world were holding their collective breath.
But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? Far above, where the wind had been howling between the peaks ceaselessly for days, there was now only silence.
She looked back over her shoulder, uneasy. A few dozen yards away, the dark mouth of the cave loomed, a gaping maw in the side of the mountain. She could see nothing of the others as they readied themselves for their journeys. All was still. She might be the only living thing for a thousand miles.
Hanging motionless a few inches above the sand was the torn and twisted husk of a dried up weed. It was utterly still, caught in the air mid tumble.
Strange.
Slowly, her gaze inched upward, taking in the rocky slopes that towered over her. High above, the dark shadow of some large bird soared without movement, its wings spread wide in flight. A shockingly white cloud hung in the brilliant sky beyond it. Both appeared painted onto the canvas of the wide blue sky, captured in a pale imitation of life. All the world was a photograph, still and silent—except for the waves.
She looked back at the lake. The water still roiled; waves still crashed upon the sand at her feet. She could feel the spray against her face and the icy water that soaked into her boots. The hiss and splash of the waves seemed very loud now in the absence of all other sound.
What the hell?
Her pulse quickened. She could feel it at her throat—hear it in her ears, fighting for her attention over the roar of the water. Something was very, very wrong.
And then there was a larger splash just before her; the waves became as still as stone in mid-ripple, and Emily was staring into the face of another mermaid.
She looked older than the one to whom they’d spoken on the island, though she bore a striking resemblance to that beautiful creature—her mother perhaps? Her hair, long, thick, and auburn, was streaked with gray, and there were fine lines at the corners of her wide amber eyes.
Emily didn’t speak. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
“Emily of the Haven,” the mermaid said, her voice low, husky, and excruciatingly beautiful.
Emily nodded slowly, feeling as though she were in a dream. Was this a dream?
“Never has there been a more apt title in the history of our worlds,” the mermaid mused, brushing her hair back from her face with one small, delicate hand. Her movements were casual, almost languid, and infused with an unconscious grace. “Your heart is true, as it has always been, and you should trust it, as we do.”
“Riddles,” Emily murmured bitterly, and though she hardly spoke above a whisper, the words seemed loud in the unnatural silence. The sound seemed to break the dreamlike quality of her surroundings, and she felt some of the resentment that had been directed at the wizard resurfacing anew.
“One day, you will understand,” the mermaid said. “For now, you need not doubt yourself.”
“Is he alive, then? Daniel?”
“What does your heart tell you?”
“Damn it, why can’t you just tell me what it is I’m supposed to do? Are you really no better than the wizard? You have the power to pull worlds apart and mash them back together again, but you can’t—”
Emily stopped speaking abruptly. All around the woman, other mermaids were surfacing from the hills and valleys of the motionless waves. They burst from the water silently, without even causing the still surface to ripple. All were unspeakably beautiful; all moved with an effortless grace.
There were perhaps two dozen, ranging in apparent age from girls no older than Emily herself to women whose years could hardly be guessed. The cracked and wizened face of one was framed by a luxurious mane of white hair that fell around her shoulders like a shimmering cloak. Age did not seem to have stolen her beauty, but enhanced it—amplified it in some indefinable yet undeniable way.
Some had flesh that was nearly translucent; others were as dark as freshly turned earth. One or two had skin the rich and almost glowing color of honey.
Each and every one was distinct and wholly different from every other. All seemed to have a story hidden behind their glittering eyes and solemn features, whether those features were small and sharp or wide and guileless.
“The magic doesn’t work that way,” the first mermaid said softly, a note of sadness in her tone. The words, an echo of what the wizard had told her days before, sent a wave of fresh frustration coursing through her, but Emily held her peace.
“What does your heart tell you?” one of the others repeated in an Irish lilt. She was a tiny creature with shining black hair and the face of a pixie.
“What does your heart tell you?” sang yet another tunelessly, her words laced with a faint accent; was it Vietnamese?
“What does your…”
“What does…”
“…your heart…”
“…heart…”
“…does your heart tell you?”
“…tell?”
“…tell?”
“…tell you?”
They were all asking her, chanting the question like a prayer, and the strange beauty of their voices swept away Emily’s bitterness and left her feeling queerly holl
owed out.
When at last their words had faded into silence, hissing like waves on a sandy shoreline, Emily found herself speaking again without thinking, without even realizing she was going to until it was done.
“He’s alive,” she said, and the desperate desire—the desperate hope—that had shaded that knowledge before was gone. She knew it as the simple fact that it was. She knew.
In a trance, she watched the mermaids as they slowly sank, one by one, back into the water. The one who had first spoken to her was the last, and as her copper curls vanished beneath the surface of the water, Emily heard her voice as though she was standing right beside her.
“Vivianne,” the voice said, and Emily’s own lips shaped the name.
For a moment, something seemed to tug at a corner of her mind. It was, for the briefest of instants, as though she were on the verge of understanding some profound secret that had been eluding her.
But then the feeling passed as suddenly as it had come, and she was staring out over the lake, watching the waves ripple and crash once more.
Overhead, the shrill cry of some bird of prey reverberated amidst the towering peaks, joining its voice in harmony with the howl of the winds. She felt the breeze with its promise of autumn against her cheeks, drying the thin sheen of sweat that had dampened her brow.
“Emily?”
The low rumble of Garrett’s voice behind her made her start, and she turned to find the big Karikis coming toward her, trailed by Mona, who carried Miraculum in her arms. At least a dozen daggers gleamed at Mona’s belt, and for the first time, Emily was very much aware of how little she knew about Corbbmacc’s sister.
Garrett’s crossbow was nestled in the crook of one huge arm, rather than in its customary place on his back. His quiver, packed with the long slender arrows he favored, dangled by its strap from his fist.
“I want you to take these,” he said without preamble, sliding the crossbow from his arm.
Emily started to protest, but Garrett shook his head and cut her off.
“Corbb tells me you’re a hell of a shot. He saw you at Seven Skies. I’ve got my sword and I can find another bow on our way to Coalhaven. You, on the other hand, are heading out into the desert and who knows if you’ll find anything at all out there. If nothing else, you’ll need a bow to hunt for food. Don’t argue with me. Take it.”
“But…”
“Shut up and take it,” Mona said, and though her tone was kind, her expression was stern.
Garrett thrust the bow into Emily’s arms.
“There’s a strap so you can carry it on your back,” he went on, as if no one had spoken. He helped her slide the bow onto her shoulders, maneuvering it carefully around the pack she was already carrying there. “Same with this.” He slipped the quiver over her left arm and took a step back, looking her up and down with a critical eye.
“It’s a little big for you,” he said at last, “but it’ll be fine.”
“Stop fussing over her,” Mona chided, and she stepped in front of her husband. She met Emily’s gaze, and Emily was struck anew by just how fine her golden hair was as it seemed to float around her face.
“Thank you,” she said. For a moment, Emily thought Mona would say more, but then she closed her mouth and only smiled.
Garrett placed a hand gently on his wife’s shoulder. Sunlight gleamed from his blue-green scales and the shiny black claws that tipped each of his monstrous fingers.
“If it wasn’t for you and Celine…” he began, but then his voice broke, and he stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
There was no need. Without Celine especially, Mona wouldn’t be standing between them, alive and well, holding the product of their strange coupling against her heart.
Emily’s gaze dropped to the child, marveling once more at just how much he resembled Corbbmacc. If it wasn’t for the ridges that crowned his head and his father’s scaly flesh, he’d very nearly look like a miniature clone of his uncle. That was especially true now. Apparently Karikis children grew more rapidly than human ones. Miraculum was already nearly the size of a human toddler, though only weeks had passed since he’d been born.
The infant smiled at her, showing a row of frighteningly sharp teeth.
She heard voices and looked up to see the others coming down the beach toward them. They were all there, even the wizard, but Michael led the little group. Corbbmacc was helping Celine along, and Emily was glad to see that Celine was moving more easily on her own this morning, even with Rascal wending his way between her feet as she went. Haake trailed them all, apparently with some reluctance. Emily tried to remember the last time she’d heard him say something—anything—and couldn’t.
Corbbmacc and Celine moved to stand on either side of her, and the others gathered in a loose knot around Garrett and Mona.
For a long moment, the two groups simply looked at one another.
“You’ll join us in Coalhaven once you’ve done what you need to?” Michael asked. It was a question, but the words seemed almost tentative, as if he wasn’t sure himself whether he was asking or commanding. Color crept into his face, but he met Emily’s gaze and did not look away.
“Yes,” she said.
“Be good for your mother, Mirie,” Corbbmacc said, reaching out and tousling Miraculum’s thick hair.
“Don’t call him that!” Garrett groaned, but there was a hint of a smile in his tone.
Mona handed Miraculum to his father and stepped forward to embrace her brother.
“Thank you, Corbb,” she whispered. Emily was a little surprised to see tears in Mona’s eyes, but she blinked as they broke apart, and the tears vanished.
“Be safe,” Garrett told them.
“Take care of my brother,” Mona told Emily, and both of them laughed a little at the scowl that creased Corbbmacc’s brow.
“Thank you all,” Emily said, and she exchanged one last look with Michael. That glance said everything that either of them needed to. It spoke of loyalty and friendship; it spoke of trust.
Slowly, Emily turned away and started toward the south end of the lake, Corbbmacc and Celine at her side.
She’d never been very good at goodbyes.
Casey
CHAPTER FOUR
The wad of tissue in Casey’s left hand had been compressed into something as small and hard as a marble. She could feel the pain from her nails, even short as they were, digging into the soft flesh of her palm around it. She tried to meet Officer Landon’s gaze, but she couldn’t focus on him, thanks to the tears that kept filling her eyes and the missing contact lens they’d washed away. She didn’t care; she didn’t want to look at him.
“We’re really sorry to put you through this, Miss Cattrall,” he said, offering her a small regretful smile. Casey’s eyes flicked to the other officer standing behind Landon’s desk, a petite Hispanic woman with a perpetual scowl. She wasn’t sorry. She didn’t care. She never said anything at all while Landon asked the same questions over and over again.
“You’re sure she’d never asked about the boy in that photo before?”
Casey looked back at Landon. “I’ve told you a hundred times—neither of us even remembered him being there. Em—” The name caught in her throat, and Landon’s face doubled as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “She just asked if I knew who he was. I don’t think it meant anything. She wasn’t even home yet. You’ve seen the messages on my phone.”
It was so obvious—obvious to Casey, anyway—that Emily’s stepfather had done something to her. She knew the police thought so too; they’d said as much on the news. But there wasn’t any evidence. They were still searching for Emily or Emily’s…
She pushed that thought away, forcing herself to cling to the shrinking hope inside her that they would find Em safe. It didn’t matter that Emily had hardly had any money or that it had been nearly a month since she’d vanished. They had to find her. They just had to, because if they didn’t…
The last people to see Emily
had said she was running down the sidewalk, heading toward the Walmart shopping center. Someone had called the police when they heard the shots her stepfather had been firing as he chased her. But at some point, the trail just ran out.
“Can I go?” she asked.
The two officers exchanged a glance.
“Yes, you can. But Miss Cattrall—Casey—if you do remember anything else—anything at all—please tell us right away? We want to find Emily. We’re doing everything we can.”
Casey nodded without really listening. She no longer even registered her own twinge of anger when Landon said Emily’s name in that easy, familiar way. He hadn’t known her; he didn’t really care, either, he was just better at hiding it than Sandoval. The script never changed. She wouldn’t remember anything else, so she wouldn’t call, but they would ask her to come back anyway, making her recount everything again. She guessed that would go on until they got bored, but she wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.
She got up, tossing the little tissue ball toward a wastebasket by the desk without looking. She didn’t care if it ended up on the floor. Let them pick the fucking thing up.
She made her way back out of the station with her head down, staring at the blue and yellow checkered tiles as they passed beneath her feet. No one, not even the woman behind the counter at the front, said anything to her anymore. That was better—easier.
Outside, the wind stung her face, a bitter counterpoint to the burning at the corners of her eyes. She pulled her scarf more tightly around her neck as she stumbled through the snow toward her car, blinking furiously. The little silver Civic had been a birthday present from her parents just a week earlier; an orange and black ribbon still dangled from the rearview mirror—Flyers’ colors, her favorite team.
But the joy and excitement she should have felt at having wheels of her own was overshadowed by the darkness swirling around her. Most of it was Emily’s disappearance, but there was resentment and guilt coloring it as well. Her parents could have bought her a car for her sixteenth last year, but they hadn’t. They’d only done so this year because they were trying to pull her out of the downward spiral into which she’d been sinking since Emily had vanished. As if a car made up for any of it. As if it ever could. A part of her knew that was unfair, but right now, she just didn’t care.
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