Fire in the Sea

by Myke Bartlett

  ‘You’re hurt,’ she said.

  She pressed her hand against his side and Tom gasped. A moment later he blinked—surprised, but no longer in pain.

  ‘And now,’ Agatha said, ‘you’re not.’ She turned back to Sadie. ‘My little gift. Not quite the act of a killer.’

  Tom had his T-shirt up and was gingerly peeling back his dressing. The stitches fell away like dead hair, leaving only the palest of scars. ‘Holy shit,’ he murmured.

  ‘I don’t care about your fancy tricks,’ Sadie said, firmly. ‘Where’s Jake?’

  ‘Ah.’ Agatha nodded. She looked to the man with the cricket bat. ‘Aaron, I wonder if you’d be a dear and put the kettle on. Jacob always has a rather sumptuous collection of teas.’

  ‘There isn’t time!’ Sadie barked.

  Agatha pushed gently past Sadie to the living room. Growling with frustration, Sadie followed Agatha and found her sitting comfortably in one of the leather armchairs.

  The young woman—scarcely older than Sadie herself—came in from the kitchen, still carrying her baby, and took a seat on the floral three-seater. She was wearing thongs, jogging shorts, and an orange T-shirt emblazoned with a Balinese sunset. Oblivious of the horrified attention Sadie gave her, she rolled up her T-shirt and began breastfeeding the infant. Tom cleared his throat and went to stand by the window.

  Agatha gestured to the armchair across from her. ‘Sit down dear, please.’

  Sadie was twitching with impatience. ‘You must be joking. I don’t want anything else to do with you people. The whole thing disgusts me. All I care about right now is getting my cousin back.’

  ‘I think you may be labouring under something of a misapprehension, Sadie. Jacob isn’t a killer. None of us is.’

  ‘Tell that to Sam Mitchell.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Sam Mitchell was seventeen years old. Last week, he suddenly started calling himself Jacob Freeman.’

  ‘Ah, now I understand you. I don’t know the first thing about this Sam Mitchell, Sadie, but I can tell you one thing. Jacob didn’t kill him. Sam was already dead.’

  Sadie scoffed. ‘What, he was some kind of willing sacrifice? That’s even worse.’

  ‘Oh jeez, will you just shut up?’ The young mother, feeding her baby, had suddenly found her voice. ‘Jacob isn’t a killer. He’s practically a vegetarian.’

  Sadie put her palms out towards the woman. ‘I can’t even look at you. I mean, really, that is so wrong. You’re breastfeeding the baby of the woman you killed. Seriously, it’s sick.’

  The harsh whistle of the kettle broke the mood.

  ‘Come on,’ Sadie said to Tom. ‘They’re not going to help. Let’s get out of here.’

  Tom caught her arm as she turned to leave and shook his head.

  ‘Oh, you want to stay for tea?’ Sadie snapped. ‘She takes out your stitches and you’re suddenly best friends?’

  Tom let her rant at him, without so much as blinking. ‘Kim.’

  Agatha went to the window, peeling back one of the drapes to look out at the empty street. ‘You’ve found yourself in a new world, Sadie. If you want our help, you need to know exactly what is at stake.’

  ‘I don’t want more fairy stories. I don’t care. My cousin could be dying, if she isn’t dead already.’

  Agatha let the drape fall shut once more. She began to roll up the sleeves of her cotton dress from first her left wrist, and then her right. Sadie wondered if she was about to end her evening brawling with a retiree. ‘When the Gods left, we stayed behind to watch over you. Jacob has told you about the demon. If Lysandra gets a second wish, she’ll start a war. The Gods will expect us to fight alongside them. To fight against you, the same people we’ve lived among for thousands of years. You think we haven’t come to care for you?’

  The older woman spoke with compelling passion, but Sadie held her nerve. ‘You kill people to save your own skins. How is that caring?’

  ‘Sadie, please. Look.’ Agatha held both her wrists out towards her. Even in the poor light of a low-watt globe, scars glistened in her arms like marble ridges. ‘This body was thirty-eight when she overdosed in a St Kilda flat. When I found her, her heart had stopped. There was nothing of her left, not here.’ Agatha tapped at her right temple. ‘She died alone, a terrible accident, yes, but an accident. We Old Ones are stronger than most mortals. I had the strength she didn’t, the strength to crawl to a phone. To heal myself.’

  Aaron came in, carrying a tray with a teapot, five mugs and an open packet of ginger nuts. ‘Mining accident,’ he said, arranging coasters on a low coffee table. ‘Poison gas. Twelve men died. Agatha fixed me.’

  ‘It’s true, once we took whoever we wished,’ Agatha said. ‘But Jacob found a better way. We only choose those who are already lost.’

  Without thinking, Sadie found herself looking again to the young mother on the couch. The woman had finished breastfeeding, and now twirled a finger before the cooing infant. The finger was glowing brightly of its own accord, holding a narrow white flame. She glared at Sadie, reluctant to share anything. ‘Hairdryer,’ she said, finally. ‘She’d been dead a minute, in a puddle on the bathroom floor. First thing I heard was the baby crying in the other room. She had no family. No parents, grandparents, brothers or sisters, nothing. Grew up in care. I checked.’ She scowled at Sadie. ‘Suppose you think I should have just left her there, a dead single mother, miles out of town, with a crying baby. You think Tenielle here would have been happier with that? She’s not my child, no. But I care for her, I even love her. Without me, she’d probably be dead too.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sadie said, mostly automatically. The truth was, she was no longer sure what she thought. Right now, all that mattered was seeing Kimberley safe. She turned to Agatha. ‘Okay, so maybe you do care. But are you actually going to help us find Jake?’

  Agatha pulled down her sleeves, smoothing the cuffs. She walked across to one of the towering bookshelves and removed a copy of The Great Gatsby. From its pages she produced a small, folded square of paper and held it out to Sadie.

  ‘His address. But be careful, Sadie. Jacob has a duty, one he’s fulfilled for thousands of years. He’s kept the relic safe. If he helps you save your cousin, if he gives Lysandra what she wants, all of you will be in danger. From the Gods, and from us.’

  The paper wavered in Agatha’s outstretched hand. ‘Are you ready to take that risk?’

  16

  ELECTRICAL STORM

  It was almost ten o’clock when Tom parked his 4WD outside the brown brick bungalow with its open, dry grass front yard and painted concrete drive. A light was on in the kitchen window and another over the doorstep. The scene was so ordinary it was hard to imagine they had the right house.

  ‘You want me to come in?’ Tom said, turning off the engine.

  ‘Yeah,’ Sadie nodded. ‘Actually no. Actually yeah, probably a good idea.’ She opened her door and then shut it again. ‘Actually no, I’ll be fine.’

  She smiled. So did Tom.

  Dianne answered the doorbell and watched Sadie through the locked screen door.

  ‘It’s very late Sadie, and it’s not a good idea for you to just call around like this,’ she said, allowing Sadie to step inside. ‘Sam’s still, well,’ she pursed her lips. ‘To be honest, he hasn’t really come back to us yet.’

  Sadie nodded, hoping to avoid a pointless conversation. ‘Is he in?’

  Jake was lying on a bed, his feet bare and his hands tucked behind his head. He stared at the ceiling like a prisoner resigned to a long stretch.

  ‘Not another psychiatrist?’

  But then he saw Sadie and he jumped up. For a second, he might have run to her, but there was a new distance between them. This wasn’t a happy reunion.

  ‘I’ll be just outside,’
Dianne promised, reassuring no one in particular, as the door clicked shut.

  This wasn’t the sort of place Sadie would have expected to find Jake. It was so typically a boy’s room, with band posters on the wall, dirty clothes across the floor and an overall sense of barely constrained chaos. But, of course, this wasn’t the place to find Jake. These weren’t his things, just as it wasn’t his mother outside the door.

  Sadie straightened her shoulders and held her gaze firm. None of that could matter now. Later, maybe.

  ‘We need your help,’ she said.

  Jake nodded. If he was disappointed, it didn’t show. ‘I assumed you wanted something.’

  ‘The Drowners have taken Kimberley,’ she said. ‘Taken her underwater.’ She couldn’t bring herself to say drowned her.

  ‘I see.’

  Sadie swallowed hard. ‘Is she dead?’

  Jake’s calm face betrayed nothing. ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Possibly? What does possibly mean?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  Encouraged, Sadie took another step towards him. ‘That’s what I thought. The thing is, they didn’t attack any old boat, did they? They wanted me.’

  Jake sighed. ‘Yes. They used you to send me a message. Really, it’s good news.’

  ‘How is any of this good news?’

  ‘It means Lysandra doesn’t have the relic. Either Vincent still has it or he’s sold it.’

  ‘Right. So Lysandra wants to trade. You said she’d find a way to make you open it. If we find it, hand it over, she’ll give Kimberley back, won’t she?’

  ‘No,’ Jake said firmly. ‘Sadie, it isn’t that simple. You know what will happen if Lysandra gets her hands on that box.’

  ‘We’re talking about Kimberley, my cousin. I can’t just let her die.’

  Jake’s jaw set. ‘One girl’s life, or everyone’s lives? No contest.’

  ‘She’s my cousin.’

  ‘That can’t mean more to me. I can’t care.’

  ‘But you do! I know you do. You saved Tom. You fought the Minotaur to save his life. And you fought the Drowners to save mine.’

  ‘Mistakes. I should have stayed hidden.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Sadie insisted. ‘The Drowners don’t believe it either. They took Kimberley because they know you care. They know you won’t let her die.’ Her hand went out for his, but fell short.

  ‘You know I trusted you,’ she said, her voice shrunken with hurt. ‘I thought I knew you. All that stuff about telling me the truth and you still didn’t tell me the first thing about you. The most important thing.’

  ‘Sadie, I’m sorry.’

  She met his eye. ‘Prove it.’

  Jake sat down on the edge of his bed. Sadie wondered if he was anchoring himself to the spot, but he began feeling about under the bed.

  ‘I’ll need a length of rope,’ he said, retrieving his shoes.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Do you want me to save your cousin, or not?’

  Sadie almost smiled. ‘There’s rope in Tom’s car. And a roof rack.’

  ‘I won’t need a roof rack.’ Jake stood bolt upright, snatching his satchel from the carpet. ‘Mrs Mitchell!’

  Dianne appeared in the open door. ‘Sam? Is everything okay?’

  ‘We’re going out.’

  ‘It’s nearly eleven,’ Dianne began, ‘I don’t think…’

  But Jake had already pushed past her and was striding off down the hall.

  The last ute pulled out of the Cottesloe beach car park and there was nothing left but broken beer bottles and seagulls. Jake leaned on the handrail at the top of the grass terraces, and faced the invisible horizon with its cargo ship tea-lights and lighthouse flares. Further out, an electrical storm was sparking. Soon it would be leaping from cloud to cloud, like the announcement of some distant war. Sadie wondered if that was exactly what it was.

  They hurried down towards the groyne. Sadie slung the rope over her shoulder and took off her boots, while Tom hopped about to avoid the surges of surf. Jake merely strode on, some metres ahead of them, ignoring the waves that soaked his jeans.

  Most nights, there were fishermen on the far side of the groyne. Tonight, the sea was still and black, and there was nothing on the concrete promenade but salt stains and fish scales.

  ‘Here,’ Jake said, taking the rope from Sadie. ‘Go stand against the lamppost, both of you.’

  Tom and Sadie looked at each other, uncertain. Jake tutted.

  ‘Sadie, just trust me.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve seen where that gets me.’ Sadie scowled at him, but nodded. ‘Come on,’ she told Tom. ‘He knows what he’s doing.’

  Jake made quick work of tying the two of them to the steel lamppost. He stood back and his gaze met Sadie’s. His lips parted. There was more he wanted to say. Maybe now he saw his chance.

  ‘Kimberley’s down there,’ Sadie snapped. ‘That’s all that matters.’

  Nodding, Jake turned and strode the short distance to the end of the groyne.

  Sadie didn’t know what she was expecting to see. Maybe she thought they would wait here by the water until the Drowners noticed. As it was, there was no waiting. She glanced down at her sandy feet, and when she looked up, a dozen of the Drowners were there. Each one stood on a rock with a gnarled hand to the barnacled hilt of a sword or axe-handle. Six on either side of the path, they formed a loose aisle, as if presenting themselves for inspection.

  Jake stood at one end, and lightning flashed at the other.

  A wave crashed heavily against the groyne. Spray seasoned the still air. A sodden bundle of rags had been dumped on the concrete. As Sadie watched, the rags unfolded into a tall, slender figure.

  She wore the flowing robes of a priestess, but the linen was stained and mildewed. Around her wasted neck hung an iron key on a length of tarred string. Her long dark hair was knotted with seaweed and it twitched about her shoulders as if it were alive. As she stepped forward, her bare feet left tidy puddles on the pier.

  ‘My love,’ her voice rustled like dry leaves on a warm wind. ‘Can it be you?’

  At first, Sadie thought the woman was confused. Then she understood.

  For a moment, Jake said nothing. His shoulders were turned away from the priestess, as if he could hardly bear to be near her.

  ‘Lysandra,’ he said.

  ‘Always so beautiful. So vain. You were born beautiful, born young. Perhaps it never occurs to you to be anything else.’ She touched his cheek with her weathered fingers. There was a smile on her lips, but it quickly fell away to nothing. ‘This is how you greet me, after so many lifetimes. With such coldness.’

  Jake stepped back from her. ‘I’ll discuss nothing until the girl is returned.’

  ‘Discuss? Elders discuss. Politicians discuss. When do lovers discuss?’

  Sadie shifted against the lamppost—the rope bit at her wrists. Something about this woman set her fingers clenching.

  Lysandra paced a slow orbit around Jake. Her right hand went, tenderly, flirtatiously, to the key around her neck. ‘Lovers sing, lovers swoon. Lovers sacrifice everything to tie their destinies together.’

  ‘We were never lovers,’ Jake said. His teeth locked, marking the edge of his patience. ‘Lysandra, give me the girl.’

  The priestess tilted her head with curiosity. ‘What can she possibly be to you?’

  ‘I’ve never met her. But, if you want to talk to me, bring her here.’

  Lysandra hesitated, but Jake’s glare held fast. ‘She is nothing to us,’ she said.

  Another Drowner shot up from the dark waters and landed beside Lysandra on the concrete path. He was carrying a bedraggled Kimberley, soaked through but otherwise unharmed. He set her down on her bare feet. Her eyes were open, bu
t she swayed blankly.

  ‘Kim!’ Tom shouted.

  ‘She can’t say anything,’ Sadie told him. ‘She’s in a sort of trance thing. She’ll be okay.’

  As relieved as Sadie was, she couldn’t help worrying. Lysandra had given Kimberley back far too easily. If Jake was right, if the priestess did intend to bargain for the relic, then she must have something else to trade, something bigger.

  ‘For millennia, I have waited for you to return with my prize,’ Lysandra said. ‘It calls to me, its power crackles in my veins. I’m tired of waiting. Give it to me and let us walk together on dry land.’

  ‘Lysandra, you know I can’t.’

  ‘What did I do to deserve such cruelty?’

  ‘You betrayed your people, all of humanity. You betrayed me.’

  ‘I adored you. I did everything to be with you.’

  Jake turned on her, all spittle and fury. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare suggest this had anything to do with me. You didn’t adore me. You were jealous of me.’

  ‘I frightened you. I tore at the barriers between us and you, you went running scared to your masters.’

  ‘You think I wanted to? You think that was easy? You left me no choice.’

  He almost looked scared, Sadie thought. She had never seen him so emotional.

  ‘There is always a choice, lover. You chose to destroy us. The city you had pledged to protect.’

  ‘You angered the Gods. You brought down their vengeance.’

  The priestess held out her hands. Her fingers were worn back to polished bone. ‘I suppose you call this justice?’

  ‘Lysandra, I’m begging you.’ Jake took a step forward, so that toes of his sneakers touched Lysandra’s robes. His fury had left him. His eyes were wide, pleading. ‘Forget about the demon. It’s too late for you and your people, but you could still save everyone else. There’s a whole world you could spare now by letting go.’

  ‘After everything, you ask me for compassion? Me?’