“Vachlan… This is Ivory we’re talking about. Ivory Ramaris, the five year old who got shot and didn’t even cry. She calls you in tears about her brother’s leg being injured, and you think he skinned it? Is this how much you know your own children? With the dangerous games they play, and the weapons they use on a daily basis! She wasn’t calling for your attention, or to annoy you—she was calling because there was a genuine emergency. If you had any decency…” The woman’s voice trailed off. “You know what, forget it.” Elandria sighed. “Around here, we’re all used to taking care of the mess you left behind. Or rather, the people you left behind, and the mess you made of them.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, still unable to focus with the image of his injured son. The realization that he could have lost his child, an innocent that depended on him, while chasing after the ghost of a woman that did not want to be found, hit him like a tidal wave.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve left a child behind for me to raise,” Elandria told him. “I helped Visola take care of Alcyone in the past, and once again, I will raise Ivory and Ronan as my own, for as long as I can. For as long as I am alive, they will have me. I am happy to do so, and I love them. But I am disappointed, for I had really begun to think you’d stick around this time. I guess old habits die hard.”
“I’m trying to bring their mother home!” Vachlan shot back, deeply upset by her words.
Elandria was silent for a moment. “It’s funny, isn’t it?” she asked. Vachlan could almost hear her derisive smile over the phone line. “Do you know what Visola did, when you left her, over two centuries ago?”
“No,” he responded.
“She took care of the child you made. The child you left behind to rot. A child that could have been dead or alive—it did not matter to you. It did not matter if she was safe, or happy, or warm, or if her leg was broken in three places. You never listened to her problems—you never listened to her dreams. You haven’t changed at all, Vachlan.”
“Queen Elandria,” he said quietly. “All of this is very hurtful, so if that’s what you’re intending to do, it’s working. I just want you to know that this is a critical situation. Visola is at high risk of stepping off an edge from which…”
“Oh, please. You have no idea where Visola is or what she’s doing. Even if you do find her, she’ll just send you away. You have zero responsibilities right now, to Adlivun or any other nation. We suspended your duties long ago, when we saw how affected you were by Visola’s disappearance. We gave you the time you needed to focus on yourself and your personal life. Your only responsibilities, as a human being and as a man, are to take care of your children.”
Vachlan hesitated. “I just need to see her, Elan. Just once.”
Elandria hung up the phone.
Staring at the farmhouse in the distance, Vachlan frowned. He was suddenly hesitant to move forward and make contact with Visola. Once he saw her again, he would not be able to let go of her. He would follow her to the ends of the universe. Whatever madness she was possessed with, he would join wholeheartedly. He would find the logic in her mania, and the beauty in her psychosis. Maybe Elandria was right. It seemed that Visola did not need him to be her partner. She already had one, and had been doing well even before that, on her own. A memory returned to him, of something she had said only a few months ago.
“I don’t need your kind words, Vachlan. I don’t need your romance or your sweetness—I just need you to be here.”
He looked up at her in misery. “I want to be more than just here.”
“You are,” she whispered, reaching out to hook her wrists over his shoulders in a relaxed way. “I realize now that maybe you always were. If something happens to either one of us, the twins will be fine. They won’t feel the loss so strongly, because as long as they have one of us, they will have both of us. So you shouldn’t worry, tough guy.”
He cursed, realizing that Elandria was right. He only had one job at the moment, and he certainly was not doing it. He was failing her. If Visola ever found out that he had abandoned their son in the hospital, she would be furious. The old Visola who cared a little more, would have been. When his phone rang again, he answered it quickly, hoping that new news would distract him. “Hello?”
“Vachlan. Thank Sedna.”
It was Queen Aazuria’s voice, this time. He heard a serious note of concern in her tone, and he frowned. “Zuri, what’s going on? Did you find Varia?”
“No. No.” Her voice was shaky. “I’ve had people combing every inch of Antarctica, since I received that phone call. There are signs that she was there, but she left Lake Vostok… there were footsteps in the snow. I think someone found her, and helped her, but I’m not sure where she is. She could be anywhere.”
“I’m sorry,” Vachlan told her, “but Varia’s strong. She is going to be just fine. As long as Glais is with her, he’ll take care of her. He’s a brave boy.”
“I know,” Aazuria said. “I’m calling about something entirely different.”
“What is it?” he asked.
She paused. “I don’t want to bother you with matters of state,” she said quietly, “but when things like this happen—when things are really bad—you are the first person I feel inclined to ask for help.”
Vachlan was growing worried. “Aazuria, tell me what’s going on.”
The woman sighed. “The United States just declared war on us.”
“On Oceanus?”
“No. Specifically on Adlivun. I found out minutes ago.”
Vachlan’s mind instantly switched into high gear. “It must be because of Visola’s recent attacks. They think that she’s working with us—no, they think that attacking us will distract her and make her focus on defense. It’s because they know she has family in Romanova.” Vachlan swallowed a lump of saliva. “They’re going after our kids.”
“Yes,” Aazuria said. “That is what we believe.”
“Did you ever make that evacuation plan for Romanova?” Vachlan demanded.
“Of course,” she told him.
“Get everyone out of there. Now.” Vachlan turned his back on the farmhouse, and began walking back to his car. “Contact our allies. All the allies you can reach. Empress Amabie, the Rusalka, Sultan Olokun. Get our people underwater. Defend Diomede City and Limestone at all costs.” He slid into the driver’s seat and started his vehicle. “I’m coming home. Tell Ivory and Ronan that I’ll be there soon.” He hung up the phone. He had been so close. So close to her. However, his children needed him. As he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and drove away, he sent one last regretful glance to the farmhouse that contained his wife.
“I will see you soon, Visola,” he promised her. “You got lucky today, but you won’t escape me forever. And when I find you, certain things are going to change.”
Visola was standing at the window of the bedroom of the farmhouse that she had turned into a temporary war-center. There were maps and diagrams plastered over every wall. Princess Yamako and the other Japanese soldiers had set up tons of mechanical equipment, and were hard at work, punching away at their keyboards. When a knock sounded at Visola’s door, she did not turn around. She was too distracted by the odd, nagging sensation that there was something important, or dangerous, just outside her window.
“I think I just killed over a million people,” Princess Yamako said.
“Thanks,” Visola said absent-mindedly, without turning around. “More, please.”
“Those were just the practice shots you asked for,” Yamako said. “I can do a lot better.”
“Great,” Visola said with a frown as she squinted and gazed into the distance. “Less talking, more working.”
“Viso,” the Japanese princess said mournfully. “Why don’t I feel any better? Shouldn’t I feel something from this? Five cities bombed, and all those people dead or injured. When does it start to hurt less? When does the score finally get evened?”
Turning to glance over
her shoulder, Visola studied the Japanese princess with a frown. “This is not going to make you feel better.”
Yamako stared at the woman, seeking wisdom in her face. “Then how do I cope with this, Viso? I thought this would help.”
Visola shook her head. “If you can get over something so easily, it means you were never really that hurt. If ‘evening the score’ erased your pain, it would mean that your loss wasn’t so great.”
“It was the greatest loss,” Princess Yamako whispered.
Unable to look at her face, Visola turned back to the window. She thought she saw a vehicle driving away in the distance.
“So, what do I do?” Princess Yamako demanded. “What do I do, Viso?”
“Whatever you can,” Visola answered.
The Japanese woman moved across the room, and put her hand on Visola’s shoulder. When the redhead turned to her questioningly, she was surprised to find Yamako only inches away from her face.
“Pretend to be her,” Yamako begged. “Please. Just for a few minutes. I just want her back.”
Visola frowned.
Yamako stepped forward hesitantly, until her breasts pressed against Visola’s body. She raised herself onto her toes to place a gentle kiss against Visola’s lips.
The red-haired warrior lifted an eyebrow.
Princess Yamako increased the pressure of her kiss, and ran her hands over Visola’s body. “Be softer,” she whispered. “Be nicer. Be more like her.”
Visola stood completely still, looking at the other woman as though she had gone mad.
“Dammit,” Princess Yamako said, biting her lip to keep from crying. “This isn’t working. Can you say something smart?”
“Uhhhh…” Visola’s eyes darted around the room awkwardly.
“Come on,” Yamako said, slipping a hand between Visola’s legs. She massaged through the layers of the woman’s armor. “Tell me about your latest research. Tell me about how stressful your day was at the lab.”
Visola made a face of discomfort. “Ummm…”
“Say ‘I’m having difficulty synthesizing the enzyme.’” Yamako commanded. “Say it.”
“I’m… having difficulty… synthesizing the enzyme?” Visola asked in confusion.
Yamako made a sound of exasperation “It’s not a question! You have to say it like… Never mind. You’re nothing like her.” The Japanese princess turned to leave the room in a huff. “Everything sucks. I’m going to go bomb Raleigh, North Carolina.”
“Don’t forget Columbus, Ohio, and Denver, Colorado!” Visola called after her.
“I’m not going to forget!” Yamako yelled back. “I have the fucking list you gave me!”
Visola turned back to the window, and made a face of bewilderment. “Well, that was weird,” she told herself. “I usually get molested by men.”
Elandria walked into the hospital room where Ronan was lying in bed. His sister was sitting at his side, and struggling to read him a book. Hearing Ivory’s rendition of the story made Elandria smile, because she could tell that the little girl was adding her own twist to the adventures happening on the page. Elandria was not sure whether this was because she was having trouble reading some of the actual words, or because they did not satisfy her. It was possible that Ivory was rewriting the story as she went along to make it better. And it did seem better.
“I just made a few phone calls,” Elandria told the twins. “I spoke to your father…”
“We don’t have a father,” Ivory declared with annoyance. “I don’t know who you spoke to, but it must be some stranger.”
Ronan seemed confused by this. “We don’t have a father? But I thought we did…”
“Nope. He never existed,” Ivory told her brother. “We only imagined him. I don’t know who Auntie Elan just spoke to on the phone, but it wasn’t our dad. Our dad is dead.”
“Dead?” Ronan asked in horror. “But how did he die?”
“Sharks ate him up,” Ivory said viciously.
“Sharks?” Ronan repeated. “That’s scary.”
“There were ten biiiig sharks,” Ivory declared, holding her arms out wide, “and our dad fought bravely, and killed nine of them. But then he got tired, and he asked the tenth shark if he could take a nap. The tenth shark said, ‘Sure, here’s a pillow and a blankie.’ So, our dad took a nap, but the tenth shark was a liar! Once our dad was asleep, and not paying attention, the mean ol’ shark ate him up.”
“No!” Ronan said, and he began to cry. “I want my daddy. I want my daddy back.”
Elandria sighed. “Ivory. What did I tell you about scaring your brother with these stories?”
Ivory lowered her eyes sadly. “That he hit his head, and got confused, and might believe the stuff I say is real. And that I should stop telling him that Daddy died in a million different ways.”
“Exactly. You have to be careful not to upset him, okay?” Elandria moved to the other side of the bed, and gently hugged the crying little boy. His wounded leg was raised in a full cast. He had been growing impatient and upset about being confined to the bed, and had been insisting that he be allowed to move around and play with his sister. However, the doctors had been extra restrictive of his activity; earlier on in his hospital stay, he had already begun goofing around again with his sister, and had caused additional injuries to his leg. They had been involved in some sort of accident involving ‘racing stretchers,’ that had not been conducive to his healing.
Elandria did not like the stark, bright atmosphere of land hospitals. She missed their underwater infirmaries, which were relaxing and pleasant environments. However, some of the best doctors in the country had chosen to work in Diomede City for the higher pay. Elandria noticed Ronan tugging on her sleeve.
“Daddy is still alive?” Ronan asked Elandria tearfully, putting his thumb in his mouth.
“Of course, honey. He’s just really busy.”
“What about Mommy?” Ronan asked. “Where is she?”
Elandria sighed. “I don’t know.”
“She’s fighting the bad people,” Ivory explained. “She’ll come home once she wins.”
A gentle smile touched Elandria’s features. She wondered how Ivory knew to trust Visola but to be suspicious and apprehensive of Vachlan. The little girl was wise beyond her years. “I would pray to Sedna for your mother’s safety. She is trying her best.”
“I don’t remember what Mommy looks like,” Ronan told Elandria.
Elandria looked down at the little boy in surprise. She then turned to his sister, who had an incredibly sad look on her face. “Well, your mother is one of the most beautiful—” She paused in her speech as a commotion seemed to erupt in the hall. The sound of angry men’s voices and gunshots outside brought a sense of worry to the queen’s face. Gently, she motioned for the children to be quiet, and they all listened for a moment in hushed silence.
The door to the hospital room slammed open. “Put your hands up in the air!”
It was a group of American soldiers.
Elandria gasped and followed their directions. The men all had rifles pointed at them. She glanced down at the children with concern. Ivory looked angry, and she stepped forward.
“You better not hurt my brother,” she said seriously, placing her body between the bed and the soldiers, “or I’m going to kill you all.”
Some of the men laughed at this, but Elandria was terrified that Ivory would actually take action. The little girl was moving forward when Elandria dove and tackled her. “Ivory! Don’t.”
“These are the bad men,” Ivory said, struggling against Elandria. “Let me go!”
The child was actually too strong for Elandria, and she broke free and moved toward the soldiers. The men did not take her seriously at first, allowing her to easily duck under their guns shove her fist into a man’s balls. When he doubled over in pain, she hit his face. She strategically struck them in spots where they were not wearing armor. Ivory used her elbow, knuckles, and knees, to bring three men t
o the ground before a fourth was able to restrain her.
“Whoa, there, little firecracker!” said one American soldier in surprise.
“There’s no mistaking it now,” said a wounded man with a grunt. “This is the terrorist’s kid.”
“Great. We’ve got our leverage. What about this woman?” One of the soldiers roughly grabbed Elandria’s arm. “I think she’s the queen, or the queen’s sister—something like that.”
“Unhand me,” Elandria hissed.
“We better take her along with us. She could be useful too.”
“Good. Grab her, and grab the sick kid, and let’s get going.”
Elandria watched in fear as they pulled Ronan out of bed and began to drag her down the halls. “Ronan!” she called out. “Ivory! Don’t worry, just…” She was silenced by a hand being clamped over her mouth.
As Vachlan’s powerboat came upon the small city of Romanova, he saw billows of smoke climbing into the air. There were fighter jets circling above, and blazing explosions had already reduced the royal palace to rubble. Vachlan’s heart caught in his throat, and he could only think of his children. He was not the type of man to put his fate entirely in someone else’s hands, but he now realized that he had done so with Aazuria. Everyone had been correct; his judgment was impaired. He had abandoned his children in a city that had just been obliterated. Romanova was now flatter than Pompeii. Thousands of gorgeous little civilian homes had been reduced to mere ice cubes.
Vachlan should not have been surprised. Romanova had never been a defensible city. It had been an opulent construction meant to provide a sense of wealth and stature above the surface, for entertaining foreign dignitaries and conducting business. However, he had grown fond of the lovely little town. Every single structure was a wonder of modern architecture. The city had received tourists from around the world, visiting just to gaze at the apartment complexes of five-story igloos, gymnasiums, and shopping malls made entirely of ice. They would bathe in the hot springs, peruse the stunning carvings in the frozen libraries, and observe the unique designs of the mansions that surrounded the royal palace. There were gardens of ice sculptures, and even a spectacular frozen golf course. It was the largest snow-golf course in the world, and Vachlan had taken many presidents, kings, and foreign ministers out on the whites for a little putting-fun after long meetings.
Maelstrom Page 23
