by Meg Cabot
“I don’t understand,” Chloe said. She, too, was nervously watching the drama playing out across the lake. “Why is he steering that boat away from the other dock?”
Alex lowered the spyglass. “Because he’s going to try to ram it into the one that was supposed to be picking you guys up.” There was grudging admiration in his voice.
“Why?” Chloe spun around to face Alex.
It was, I suppose, a bit like watching a professional car race in which one of the drivers had gone completely mad and decided to smash his car into all the others. You didn’t want to watch, but you also couldn’t look away.
The problem was, I was in love with the mad driver, and watching him on this insane suicide mission was destroying me.
“But if he smashes his boat into that other one,” Chloe protested, “he’ll be killed!”
“Maybe not,” Reed said in a hopeful voice. “He could rig the steering wheel and jump off at the last minute. I saw that in a movie once.”
“He’ll get sucked under by the boats’ propellers as they go down,” the old man in the hospital gown disagreed gloomily.
“No, he won’t,” Kayla snapped at him. I saw her glance my way. “He’ll be fine. He’ll be just fine.”
“Right. You don’t know the captain,” Henry said to Alex in an offended tone. He snatched the spyglass away from him. “The Haydens love to smash things up.”
Henry wasn’t exaggerating. John had smashed up nearly every obstacle put in the path of his pursuit of me, including but not limited to shopkeepers, teachers, and even sets of iron cemetery gates. A wooden boat would be nothing to him.
“Seems like a waste to me,” Hospital Gown said, his tone now disapproving. “Two perfectly good boats —”
“He doesn’t have any choice,” I said hotly. “He’s doing this to save the docks.”
I’d navigated Alastor until he’d moved his heavy bulk into the middle of the pier, surprised at how willingly he obeyed my commands, seeing as how all I wore on my feet were ladylike slippers, so when I dug my heels into his sides he could hardly have felt it. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, riding bare-legged in a dress, but like Kayla, I could adapt, too, in an emergency.
“So maybe,” I went on, when Hospital Gown and everyone else around him had looked up at me in surprise, “you could do him the courtesy of not letting his efforts go to waste. We need to start evacuating this dock, so if you all will follow me to the castle, where you’ll be safe —”
Kayla wasn’t the only one to echo, “Evacuate?” but she was the person standing closest to me, so she was the only one to whom I responded softly, so the others couldn’t hear.
“We need to get back to the castle,” I said. “John says it’s the only place we’ll be safe.”
Kayla blinked her exotically made-up eyes. “Safe from what?”
“Those invisible forces of evil I mentioned earlier —”
I didn’t mention that I’d been John’s primary concern, or that he hadn’t said anything about Chloe or Reed or the others. But how could I take Alex and Kayla and leave the rest of them all standing there? Who was to say the Furies wouldn’t come after them?
Before Kayla could say anything, Hospital Gown burst out with, “Evacuate? We’ve been waiting here for hours; we’re at the front of the line, and now you’re telling us we’ve got to move some place else?”
All around him, old people lifted their voices to unite with Hospital Gown’s in a chorus of protests. “He’s right!” and “We’re not going anywhere!” and “We want to speak to someone in charge!”
You try to do one nice thing for people, and look what it gets you.
“I’m in charge,” I shouted back at them.
I’d have been better off staring them down in cold silence, but to do that I’d have to have been more sure of what I was doing. And I hadn’t the slightest idea of that.
Still, I plunged on, hoping, like a substitute teacher on the first day of school, that the volume of my voice would hide my anxiety and make up for my lack of experience.
“All I want to do is make sure none of you gets hurt,” I yelled. “So get in line behind me and we’ll all —”
It was too late. Alastor’s ears pricked forward and he snorted. Then Hope let out a squawk of alarm and suddenly took off from between Alastor’s ears, as if frightened by something. But what? I wondered. I hadn’t been shouting that loud. Could she have sensed my own fear?
As I looked around to see what had startled her, a bolt of lightning split the air, thrusting the entire cavern into stark white daylight, instead of the perpetual pinkish dawn it seemed nearly always to be in.
Chloe wasn’t the only one who screamed. I’m pretty sure Kayla and Alex — as well as Hospital Gown and most of his friends — did, too. I know my ears were ringing afterwards … possibly from a scream of my own.
When I lowered the arm I’d lifted to protect my dazzled gaze, I saw that the two ships were so close to the docks, I could have looked into John’s eyes — if his long hair wasn’t partially obscuring his face — as he struggled to twist the wheel, which some unseen force was attempting to pull in the opposite direction.
Furies. Without any weak-willed human bodies to possess the way they did on earth, they couldn’t be seen by the naked eye. But I should have known that they were all around us, not only by the color of my diamond and what had happened to the boats, but also by the chill in the air, the lightning, and now the almost undetectable but ever increasing shaking of the boards of the dock beneath us. The remaining water glasses on the tray Alex had left on the railing began to drop into the water one by one, until finally the empty tray itself slipped, with a plop, into the lake.
People seemed eager to take my advice to evacuate now. The problem was, they couldn’t.
“W-what’s happening?” Chloe cried, reaching for the closest solid thing she could grab on to, which happened to be Alex.
True to his name of protector of man — and now girl — Alex slid an arm around her just as the waves began to slap over the side of the pier, dampening everyone’s legs to the knee.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I think Pierce is right. We’d better —”
His voice was drowned out by the loudest clap of thunder I’d ever heard.
Except that it wasn’t thunder. I twisted in the saddle to see if John was all right, knowing as I did that there was no possible way he was going to be able to employ that trick Reed had suggested and rig something to hold the wheel in place as he leaped to safety.
I was right. The sound we’d heard was the prow of the boat John had been steering, ripping out the hull of the ship in front of it as it rammed against it, with John still aboard.
7
“Dost thou not hear the pity of his plaint?
Dost thou not see the death that combats him
Beside that flood, where ocean has no vaunt?”
DANTE ALIGHIERI, Inferno, Canto II
The sound of splintering wood and sheering metal as the two ships collided echoed so loudly through the cavern that the sound felt almost like a physical blow. For some of us on shore — those of us not lucky enough to have hands to fling over our ears to protect them, that is — it was a physical blow.
“The ravens,” the old man in the hospital gown cried.
It had begun to rain. But no ordinary rain, unless raindrops had suddenly turned into large black birds.
The ravens that had been flying in their predatory circles above, stunned by the sound of the ships imploding, began to drop, one by one, from the air, landing like grenades of blood and black feathers all around us.
“Watch it,” Reed said, pulling Alex and Chloe out of the way as one of the birds shot by them, nearly striking them both. Instead, it hit the dock railing, then ricocheted into the water, where it bobbed for a moment, until, incredibly, it recovered itself. After giving its wings a good shake, it flew away, though it got only as far as a nearby boulder before crash-lan
ding again in confusion.
It was one of the lucky ones. Most of the other birds plummeted into the sand or rocks, while recently departed souls screamed in horror at the piles of tiny bones and feathers all around them.
My heart already in my throat over John, I glanced about frantically to check on Hope. Though her wings had never been clipped, she surely hadn’t been flying at as high an altitude as those ravens when the echo sounded, and could not have been as badly affected by it as they were. And with those blinding white feathers, she should have been easy to spot — much easier than John, who could be halfway to the bottom of the lake by now ….
I hadn’t told him I loved him. Why hadn’t I told him I loved him?
Better not to think of that now. But I had no better luck spotting Hope anywhere on the shore than I did John in the water, since Alastor, like the ravens, had been stunned by the sound of the colliding ships and panicked in response to the assault on his sensitive ears. He reared, frantic to get back to the castle and to his comfortable stable, where birds didn’t plummet from the sky and people weren’t screaming at the sight of the birds’ mutilated corpses all around them. Though I tried to soothe him, it was like trying to calm a thrashing shark.
“Careful!” Kayla ducked as the stallion’s enormous, silver-clad hooves swung dangerously close to her face.
I was holding on for dear life, but I managed to get out two words: “I’m trying.”
There was nothing I could do but allow Alastor to go where he so badly wanted to. He was too strong for me to control when he was in this agitated state, and the more he tried to resist me, the more likely he was going to hurt someone … probably me.
Alastor wasn’t the only one panicking, either. The people standing at the front of the pier, who would have been the first to board the boat if it had actually arrived, were instead the first to suffer the aftereffects of the ships’ collision.
In the moments following the initial impact, the boats sprang apart as lake water rushed in to fill their empty passenger holds. What I could also see from my high vantage point on Alastor’s back — whenever he twisted in that direction — was that a four-foot wave filled with debris was surging outwards from the crash and heading directly towards the pier.
“Get everyone off the dock,” were the last words I was able to gasp out before Alastor wheeled around, practically whipping my head off.
Fortunately, it seemed as if Henry had heard me. He must have, since behind me, I heard him bellow, “Everyone, please, it’s too dangerous to stay here. We’ve got to follow Miss Oliviera — she’s the lady on the big black horse. Walk, don’t run —”
That’s all I heard before Alastor took off thundering down the pier, his hooves flying so quickly I wondered if they were making sparks. At the speed he was going, the wind whipped my face so fiercely my eyes began to water. All I saw ahead of us were blurred shapes. I could only hope the horse wasn’t knocking people down in his frantic flight to escape.
Though I couldn’t see, I could hear. Once I no longer heard the hollow drumming of Alastor’s hooves on the wooden boards of the dock, but the much deeper thud of his feet hitting dry sand, I began to pull his reins as hard as I could to the left, knowing that when a horse’s eyes are forced to look in a direction he doesn’t want to go, he has no choice but to slow down, and eventually to stop or turn in that direction. I knew, of course, that the castle was where I was supposed to be heading, but I couldn’t leave the beach without turning around for one last look for my bird and the boy I hadn’t told I loved.
Alastor wasn’t giving up without a fight. I thought he was going to pull my arms from their sockets, but he finally slowed down — with considerable snorting — and eventually stopped, pawing ill-temperedly at the ground.
“Sorry,” I said to him. “But you’re not the only one who’s suffering here.”
I twisted in the saddle to look behind me and saw that very few of the departed had listened to Henry’s advice of walk, don’t run. People at the end of the dock had already begun to shove against those in front of them, desperate to get to what they perceived as the safety of the shore before the waves of debris-filled water hit them.
I didn’t blame them, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone was crushed or pushed off the pier and into the water, where the choppy waves would sweep them up and under the dock and out of sight.
What happens to the soul of someone who went missing in the Underworld? I wondered.
Better question: What was going to happen to these people now that the ships that were supposed to take them to their final destinations had been destroyed?
This was something I hadn’t considered before inviting them all up to the castle. Would the Fates provide new boats? How could they, if the Furies had driven them off?
I had more important things to worry about at the moment, however. I scanned the surface of the water for John. Surely he’d had time to blink himself — as Henry liked to say — out of the ship’s wheelhouse before the collision. Only, where had he ended up? Why had we spent so much time kissing and no time agreeing on a point to meet afterwards? Next time I was going to know better. If there was a next time …
There had to be. To think otherwise was to invite madness.
Instead of John, however, all I saw — besides bewildered lost souls beginning to shiver in winds that were rapidly turning freezing cold — was Frank, standing at the end of his dock, brandishing a pair of brass knuckles.
“You think dying was painful?” he was demanding of the men and women who were shuffling past him. Word had obviously spread about the evacuation. “Try breaking out of this line. I’ll show you what real pain feels like.” He noticed me and gave me a smile, along with a wink and cordial nod. “Hello there, Miss Pierce.”
“Hello,” I said. “Where’s Mr. Liu?” I had to raise my voice to be heard above the sound of the steadily rising wind.
“He’s over there,” Frank said, waving at a bulky figure farther down along the pier, “making sure all of our ‘guests’ are headed away from, and not into, the water. Some of them seem to think this is their golden opportunity to escape what the Fates have in store for them.”
They aren’t wrong, I thought a little bitterly. The Furies have made sure of that.
“Have you seen John?” I asked him.
“Not yet, but don’t you worry about him,” Frank called back. “He always turns up.”
I found nothing in this remark to inspire confidence, since I happened to know at least one of the places John liked to “turn up” was the cemetery.
“Okay,” I said. “Well, if you see him before I do, would you tell him —”
One of the men in Frank’s line broke ranks, darted across the beach, and fell to his knees at Alastor’s feet, causing the horse to stagger backwards a few steps in alarm. The man didn’t look like a lot of the people from the rest of his line. He was probably around my dad’s age and was dressed pretty conservatively, in a pair of khaki pants and a collared shirt that had been neatly pressed at one time.
The effect was somewhat ruined by the large bloodstained bullet hole in the center of it, however.
“Sweetheart,” he said, his hands clasped in supplication as he looked up at me from the sand. “You gotta help me. There’s been some kinda mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. I keep telling these guys, I’m supposed to be with those other people over there” — he pointed at my dock — “but they won’t listen —”
“Sorry.” I hated it when people I didn’t know called me sweetheart. How did they know whether or not my heart was sweet? “But I have to go.”
“You don’t understand,” Khaki Pants pleaded. There were tears running down his face. “I’ve got a daughter about your age. She needs me. Yeah, I may not have been the most perfect father, but who is? That doesn’t mean I deserve to be with these people here.”
I stared down at him, thinking of my own dad. Which line would he end up being sorted into when
he died, this one, or the one with Hospital Gown, Chloe, and Reed? A lot of people really hated my dad, the infamous millionaire Zack Oliviera, because his company was partly responsible for one of the largest accidental oil spills in history, which was still affecting the wildlife and economy of not only Isla Huesos but also the entire Gulf shoreline.
That didn’t mean my dad was a bad person, however. He’d always been there for me when I needed him (well, with the exception of those times his mother-in-law had tried to murder me). But he hated Grandma and had done everything he could to keep me away from her. Dad was almost like a walking Fury detector, now that I thought about it.
Maybe the Fates made mistakes, just like people. Obviously they did, if they thought it was fair to punish someone like John for a crime he’d been completely justified in committing.
I was opening my mouth to tell the poor man in the khaki pants that though I sympathized with his plight, there wasn’t much I could do to help him at the moment — I had problems of my own — when Frank strode up and wrenched the man back to his feet.
“The lady said she has to go,” Frank snarled, dragging Khaki Pants back to the line. “You can tell her your sad story — which I’m sure is perfectly true — later.”
“It is true,” Khaki Pants insisted. “You know, I was abused as a child. Isn’t anyone going to take that into account? It’s not my fault —”
“If I had a piece of eight for everyone I met down here who tried to use the fact that he was abused as a child as an excuse for his behavior, I’d be the richest man in the world,” Frank said. “My father abused me as a child, but I never hurt anybody. Well,” he added thoughtfully, “anybody who didn’t deserve it, that is.”
I glanced away from Frank and his new friend, distracted by the crowd of lost souls who’d gathered around Alastor. They were keeping a careful distance from his baleful glare but looking up at me expectantly, like I had something they wanted.
It took me a second or two to realize that I did.
