Of how Pa made him come from a fish in the sea.
Cal did not believe.
“Pa keep us trapped,” he whispered to the human. “Moss and Aster and Cal. Keep us trapped on island. Will keep you trapped, too. Smoke you with flowers.”
Cal blinked, head heavy, wanting his own sleepings. He dabbed the human’s forehead, putting cooling mint leaves he’d gone for ’specially against his temples. Again, the human’s eyes flickered open. They were clear on Cal, not like how eyes go when they’re flower-smoked.
“Finn?” the human whispered.
Cal frowned. “What you say there?”
But, quick-fast, the human were sleeping again. Deep-good. Healing-like.
And there were dreamings—deep-thick—just waiting for Cal also. He’d been healing the human so long, he didn’t know when his sleep came last.
When his eyes closed again, he could fight no more.
Down he went …
… down next to the human …’til there were his own dreamings …
… soft and floating …
… and he were gripping round a sharp stick and placing it to water. He were spearing! And there were another, darker hand on top of his—with no webbings on it—and that bigger hand were guiding him toward a fishy, helping him to spear.
He blinked awake.
He should not go to full-slumber, not when the human so sick. He pressed his nails hard into his arm to wake himself, then ran his fingers ’cross the chest of the human, let them rise tiny with each new breathing. Cal saw dreamings spark ’cross the human’s eyelids. Saw salt in his eyelashes.
Human would live.
Cal turned to where the hidden thing rested. Deep-down-deep, below the rocks, with all its hidden things inside … the hidden thing that were meant to be Birthday Surprise. If only Moss had come.
“Kill the Pa,” Cal said, whispering the words, trying them out. “Kill the Pa and we all go free.”
It were dark thinking. He could not do it. Could not make the human do it, neither. But if he could …
Cal thought of the dreaming—of his hand, just now, on the pointy stick. He thought of what the Pa might have taken. Taken from him.
Not the Flicker-land, though. That had come back.
The human’s eyes shot open again. Settled on his. Cal waited ’til he were certain the human were seeing him before trying a smile.
“Hello,” Cal said.
“Hello,” the human said, more clear-eyed still.
“Cal,” Cal said, pointing at himself.
“Tommy,” the human said.
“Hello, Tommy,” Cal repeated, pointing at the human.
“Hello, Cal.”
The human—the Tommy—slight-smiled back. When Cal pressed mint to his forehead again, Tommy reached up and caught Cal’s hand. Cal waited for Tommy to see the webbings and scale-sheen skin, ready for him to shrink back as Pa and Moss had done first time they saw. But Tommy put Cal’s hand back down, not even seeming to care.
“Thank you,” he said, squeezing Cal’s hand, webbings and all.
P’raps it were his sickness, making him hazy, not making him see Cal proper.
“I’m not dying, am I?” Tommy said next. He looked around the cave, at the fire.
Cal watched, wondering. “Want to test?”
Tommy coughed, then winced after. “Why not,” he murmured.
“Can you get up?”
Tommy nodded. “Need to piss, anyway.”
Cal put his arm under Tommy’s shoulder and helped him upward. “Just to tunnel opening … Just a look-see … Just a test.”
“Test and a pee.” Tommy looked at Cal true-serious. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”
Cal smiled to ease him, and that made Tommy smile too.
“You’re right,” Tommy said. “Your face is too pretty for killing.”
Tommy was light as dried thatching weed. They walked slow, Tommy leaning and gasping air. At tunnel opening, Cal felt Tommy sway sudden, wind-blown.
“Where the … ?” he said, looking out to sea. “What is this? Where am I?”
But Cal were looking to horizon line, unanswering. His Flicker-land were there. Come back! He’d had feelings it would. He’d had feelings this Tommy would see it too. Because Tommy had not had stormflowers—not one—Cal had made sure.
Quick-fast, he was moving Tommy’s head, just as he’d moved Moss’s those nights past. “Can you see it? The land?”
And—yes—Tommy looked, and—yes—Tommy saw. Cal saw it true in the way his eyes squinted, then widened. He shook his head free from Cal’s grip.
“You mean that scrap of rock?” Tommy said. “That land?”
“Rock?”
Tommy nodded. “The one with all the bird shite on it?”
Cal tried to see what Tommy could. Couldn’t … quite. Just shadows. Just something not clear. Flickering. Coming. Going. But a land … sure.
“That’s just rock for a colony of seabirds, mate,” Tommy said. “Not really sure it’s real land.”
Then Tommy coughed hard, went gasping. He stumbled back against the cliff and steadied himself.
“Seabirds,” Cal whispered. “Shite?”
So it were not land with humans like him on it? What, then, was it?
Behind him, he heard Tommy pissing long, pee splashing from stone.
“But it’s there though?” Cal called back, not looking with his words. “You saw?”
“I saw the same bit of rock I think our boat crashed into! It’s there.”
Tommy sighed out with the last of his piss, then stumble-fell against the rock. Cal turned from the Flicker-shite-land, and caught him.
Moss pulled her coverings tighter and reached down to ruffle Adder’s ears. She indicated to Finn the path ahead through the Lizard Rocks. She remembered doing this with Cal as Small Things, back when they’d been shaking-scared about the reptiles Pa’d warned them about. Up close now, she saw no movement in the rocks, no lizards yet. There were only black-backed gulls, muttonbirds, and razorbills, and none of them were screeching any warnings.
She looked to the ocean—Cal’s land was still there. If she squinted and looked proper hard, maybe she could make out rocks on it, rising up. Back down on the beach, she saw the silver-white of Aster, calm and waiting.
They climbed farther toward the point. If Moss remembered right, the openings to the tunnels were not far along. Passing dark crevices where lizards could be slumbering, Moss heard no slithers. Only the whir of birds’ wings, the crash and roar of the sea. She heard no sign of Cal or Tommy, either. They reached the ridge, and that was empty too, windbeaten. Now there was only the pinnacle ahead, the pointed finger of rock with its caves within—where Cal would go. Hidden-deep. The one place where Pa had proper warned them from.
“It’s different here again,” Finn said. “Empty and spiky, not so many of those flowers.”
“Pa always told us to stay away, says it’s the darker side of the island.”
But Moss realized she now felt safer here—in these rocks she was always warned off—than she felt back with Pa. Even with lizards lurking. Even with sea slapping hard against the cliff drop below. Now this island seemed topsy-turvy. Danger had become safe, and safe had become skitter-stones.
She grabbed Finn’s hand and pulled him on. “Tunnel to the caves,” she said, pointing it out ahead.
His eyes widened. “How would Tommy have ever gotten up here?”
“Cal helped.” She was getting sure of this now.
Moss scrambled on. The skin on her palm gashed open as she tried, too quick, to get a grip. She cursed low. But her fresh blood smell was on the air now, on top of whatever faint scent still clung to her smalls. She saw by Adder’s nose-twitch that she, at least, could smell it. Moss moved quicker. She was halfway toward the tunnel opening when she heard it: claws against granite and scales against stone. Adder growled.
“Hush,” Moss whispered. “’Tis only lizards stirring in sl
eep.”
Adder’s scruff had risen at the noise, making her neck mean-thick.
“Come on,” Moss said to her. “Don’t lose your mind.”
She gripped tighter on Finn’s hand, too. “Don’t you lose your mind, either.”
To one side was steep, vertical rock, with the sea below. To the other were burrows and small caves: easy-big enough for reptiles. A hiss came closer, making Adder sudden-skid.
Quick-fast, Moss let go of Finn’s hand, put herself between her dog and the drop. They were only a few hut-widths from the tunnel. They couldn’t turn back now. She could smell smoke, too. Was there a fire burning somewhere inside? Cal’s doing?
Then she saw it following—a lizard, about the size of her leg, algae-green and openmouthed. Not far behind. It was sudden-woke and disgruntled, hissing low. Moss looked ahead to the tunnel, pushing Adder.
“Go there,” she told her dog. “Go find Cal!”
Adder barked in Moss’s face: a warning. She would not leave. Moss climbed faster then, grabbing Adder’s scruff and trying to pull her along. Adder growled, fight-ready. Moss hoped Finn was following close. Still trying to yank her dog on, Moss smelled the lizard’s foul breath. When she turned, she saw its dark, long claws and the glisten of its lips. The pink of its tongue. It skittered toward them and Moss seized Adder, launching across the rock to the opening.
But the lizard was quicker. It bit at them, its jaws grazing Moss’s leg. She felt the pain instant as a sharp, salty cut. When the lizard snapped again, Moss almost fell. Adder’s stocky legs flailed out, above the dagger rocks and frothing, angry sea.
“Stop struggling,” Moss hissed to her dog. “Be still so I can grip you better.”
Moss kicked out, found the lizard’s head with her boots. She skidded backward, Adder howling and twisting in her arms. They were sliding, almost falling, down the steep side of the rocks toward the sea; she jabbed her fingertips into the granite. The lizard hissed loud. She heard Finn, too, shouting at it.
When the lizard darted forward, its teeth grazing her skin a second time, she was ready to kick again. But Finn got there first and punched it. With the way Finn’s mind had seemed so fuzzy just before, Moss was surprised he had it in him. By the look on Finn’s face, perhaps he was too. Now he pushed her forward. She clutched Adder tighter, and went. And the lizard backed off, hissing foul air, not putting up the kind of fight she’d expected. Moss pulled Finn with them into the darkness of the tunnel.
Then there were other arms, grabbing her, pulling her inside. Adder leapt away from Moss to run on into the black. And those arms were pull-pulling her, away from the lizard. Into the dark.
Cal.
She smelled the saltiness of him.
’Course it was.
She breathed out in a rush. Hugged him deep, then gripped his fingers to stop him pulling her so quick.
“There’s Finn too,” she said. She reached back, felt Finn stumbling behind. “Keep up,” she said to him. “Try.”
She didn’t want that lizard coming in after. Though it had backed off, she didn’t quite trust it to keep away. Not after all the warnings from Pa.
There was light up ahead, leading them. A fire! So this was where Cal had made camp. As she ran, she shouted to Cal, explaining what had happened.
“I’ve brought a boy! A real boy! I’m serious, Cal. He washed up. As you did!”
“I believe.”
“All has changed!”
“I know it.”
Then they were tumbling into the cave where the fire was, and Moss was grabbing Cal and hugging him true-proper. She was smelling his damp-salt smell. It was so good to see him, like when the sun returns after a storm. She threaded her fingers through his. Did not want to let go.
Then Cal was speaking close in her ear, looking at Finn. “And there is other one, too. The one I saved.”
He turned her gentle-slow. On the ground, snug in coverings, was another boy. A second human. Just like Finn had promised.
“Tommy,” she said.
Cal had wrapped him so tight, Moss could only see his face amid the coverings, but it was pale—so much paler even than Finn’s. Sick-looking.
“He’s been awake,” Cal said fast. “Not dead. Only recent he gone back to sleeping.”
She looked back to Finn, who was blinking in the sudden light from the fire, full-confused by where he’d just gotten to. When he noticed his friend, he lunged across the cave toward him, though fear flashed across Finn’s face when Tommy did not respond to his shouts.
“What’s wrong with him?” Finn said, turning to Moss.
Moss swallowed. “Storm-woke sick, maybe. Flower-heavy? I don’t know.”
His eyes were so wide. They widened further as he, then, saw Cal proper.
“Cal,” he said, realizing.
Cal smiled, all white teeth in the gloom.
Finn frowned. “But the Pa man said you were a fish! A … fish-spirit!”
Cal went eye-rolling. “The Pa been lying.”
“You’re just like us!”
Cal spat at the flames, making them hiss. “I know it.” Moss squeezed his hand, and his eyes flicked to her. “I been healing the human with no flowers,” he told her. “He’s been getting better. Swear it.”
Moss crouched beside Finn, looking down at Tommy. Close up, Moss saw that his face was wider than Finn’s, his hair orange-red and almost so vivid in color as stormflowers. He looked sure-sick, but not so bad as Pa looked in Blackness. Her hands hovered above the dark crevices below his eyes, above the sweat on his forehead.
Cal came close. “This Tommy can see the Flicker-land, too. When he was woke, I showed and he saw. Is not just me who see it proper now.”
“And I saw it again.” She looked at him. “And Finn. For an eye-blink, at least.”
She felt for the beat in Tommy’s neck, found it steady. His skin was hot, but not stormfevered. Cal checked it after her.
Then he held out one of his hands in front of him, turning it … frowning.
“What are you doing, Ca—”
But Moss saw it—there!—just for a moment: His scale-sheen skin changed, the pattern of him faded. Flickered! Just like how, at first, she had seen the island. How she had seen the angry man in Pa’s cave and, before, under the sea. Like how Finn’s scar had gone, too.
Flicker-gone!
Only, Cal’s pattern came back again, quick-fast. Like it had never gone at all. She blinked.
“Whoa!” Finn was crawling away from Cal, watching wide-eyed also. “What just happened to you?”
“Do not right-know.” Quick-fast, Cal smiled. “But you saw it too? No scales! For one moment, no nothing!”
Moss leaned forward to touch Cal’s skin. It was soft, but scale-shined again now. “Which is right?”
Then Tommy coughed—awake! Moss bent back over him. Now Tommy’s eyes were open, and he was gasping like a storm-drowned fish. Finn turned him to the side and thumped him on the back ’til Tommy went gasping proper. Cal came with water, scooped in a shell, which Tommy drank greedy.
“Can you see me, mate?” Finn said loud, waving his hands before his face. “We’ve crashed on an island. And the Swift’s gone. Smashed! Can you hear me?”
Tommy stared at him. “Stop bloody shouting.”
Finn laughed. “Mate!” He reached down to hug him. “Do you remember the storm? Anything?”
Tommy nodded. Least, it looked a little bit like a nod from where Moss was crouching.
“Do you remember trying to get the sails down? And I was spinning the rudder. And the boat was … ?”
“Sinking,” Tommy finished. “I remember. A … reef. A bloody big rock. We crashed. Don’t know where the hell you went after that though … don’t know where anything went.”
Tommy grasped Finn’s shirt, and Finn helped him sit up. Tommy was frowning as he stared first at Cal, then Moss, then Adder too. Moss wondered if he was even seeing them clear; perhaps he thought he was still on the boat.
“You’re in a cave,” Finn said, maybe thinking that too. “You’re OK. Everything’s going to be OK. These people are …”
“I know.” Tommy’s fingers dug into Finn’s arm. “This nice man rescued me.”
Cal smiled proud, rolled his shoulders back, and Tommy nodded what seemed to Moss like a small thank-you. Finn frowned, then leant closer when Tommy spoke again.
“… Something pulled us in the ocean …”
“A storm,” Finn said, giving him more water. “A big, bloody storm!”
As Tommy drank, Finn explained how Moss had found him, how he’d ridden a horse with her across an island to get here.
Tommy frowned. “Horse? I saw a horse.”
Finn paused with the shell half raised to Tommy’s lips. “You’re in a cave, Tom.”
Tommy shook his head. “Not here. In the water. A white horse. Big thing!”
“White?” Finn looked at Moss.
“Aster doesn’t go into the water,” she said, though she was thinking about their dash across the beach just before. “Least, she didn’t used to. Not that I ever saw …”
But she’d just seen the pattern of Cal’s scale-sheen skin flicker. And she’d seen human boys, two of them now. Nothing was like it used to be. Change was threaded through them all.
Soft-gentle, Cal pressed fingers to her arm, staring ahead to the dark drop at the other end of the cave. “Your birthday surprise is here also,” he said. He crouched over, turning away, moving closer to the darkness. “Come,” he beckoned her. “Follow. The island has more secrets still.”
Quicker than a wink, he crawled over the edge.
Moss watched Cal slip into the dark. She went to where he’d disappeared. There was a rocky edge, and beyond that a drop. A hole. Was there another cave somewhere below? The sea? It was so dark, she couldn’t be sure … but she could feel damp in the air, like it was coming from salt water.
“Follow.” Cal’s voice came up through the black.
She remembered Cal’s words: A way off the island. Was this it?
When she looked over at Finn, he was still talking soft to Tommy, explaining and reassuring.
“I’ll come back,” she said. “Won’t forget you.”
Storm-Wake Page 16
