Seeds

by Chris Mandeville

  “That’s even more important now . . . since I found out she’s pregnant. The arrival of healthy new missionaries could not have been timed better. Just as Justine learns she’s responsible for a new life, evidence of her old home is waved before her.”

  This could be the breakthrough he’d been waiting for. A missionary highly motivated to return home, one who might well know how to get there. All the other times he’d allowed missionaries to leave Lost Angeles had rendered nothing. Just sad girls praying at churches, asking for God to show them the way home, and God never answering. But this time . . . this time could be different.

  “Don’t keep secrets from me anymore, Elli.”

  As her deft hands began massaging again, he allowed himself to visualize the road to the home of the missionaries. That road had always been shrouded in mist, but the mists were swirling, perhaps even beginning to clear.

  Ellianna’s fingers skimmed down his stomach, drawing tantalizingly close to the edge of his towel. For a moment, he was seized by the desire to pull her on top of him.

  Their eyes met. Her hand froze and her smile dissolved. She raised one eyebrow. Asking.

  No. She was the one person he could talk to. That was too important to risk.

  Pascal closed his eyes again, forcing himself to relax into the table, forcing his desire to recede, locking it away again. He visualized withdrawing the key from the lock and pulling his arm back to hurl the key into the ocean. But at the last moment, he placed the key in his pocket.

  Twenty-Four

  Manitou Springs, Colorado

  Reid doubted Vega and her goons could find them, but still, he was anxious to leave for Ellay. He found Tinker in the garage.

  “Hey, Pops. How can I help?”

  “I’m done here. Got everything in the toolbox I think we might need.”

  “I need clothes, but I don’t feel like rooting through houses. Is there a store nearby?”

  “You kiddin’? We’ve got all kinds of clothing, clean and folded, sorted into bins by size and season.”

  “Really?”

  “You remember how your grandma is. Have her show you where the backpacks are so you and Kayla can get packing.”

  “About that.” Reid figured he might as well get it over with. “Kayla’s not coming.”

  Tinker scowled. “Why on earth not?”

  Reid shrugged. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time you told me what-all happened? Your grandma and I have been patient, but we can see something’s eating at you. At Kayla too.”

  Reid looked down at his hands. Tinker was right. It was time. “We were on brevet.”

  “I thought you two weren’t a couple.”

  “We’re not. When Dad refused to marry us, Vega got pissed and sent us anyway. It was the second day when we found the stranger. We needed Doc, so I sent Kayla to Dad. I was sure he’d help when he saw the apple.”

  “Instead, he betrayed you.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I know my son.”

  “But I was so sure.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Tinker said. “The only thing you’re guilty of is believing the best about people. There’s no shame in that.”

  “I’m so . . . furious with him.” Reid’s throat constricted.

  Tinker patted him on the back. “You and your dad will sort it out.”

  “No, Pops, we won’t.” Reid gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might break.

  “Give it time.”

  Reid forced himself to meet Tinker’s gaze. “It’s too late. Dad was shot. He’s dead.”

  “No.” Tinker closed his eyes and shook his head slowly back and forth. “How?”

  “He and Vega came for the stranger, but she was already dead. I wouldn’t tell Vega what the stranger said, so she was going to hurt Kayla to get me to talk. Dad tried to stop it, and one of Vega’s men shot him. Then I don’t know what came over me. I reacted. I launched into Vega, then guns were going off everywhere. Kayla, she killed Vasquez, then Beckum.” Reid took a breath. “She saved my life.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Before that, before we left the Mountain, one of Kayla’s sisters died. The littlest one. So with that, and everything else . . .”

  “And Brian.”

  “Yeah.” He wanted to ask what happened to Brian, but Tinker had just learned about his son’s death. There’d be a better time later. “Kayla’s pretty messed up, Pops. Can you talk to her? She has to come with us.”

  “I’m no good at that sort of thing. That’s a job for your grandmother, don’t you think?”

  Reid started to answer, then realized Sarah still didn’t know about Peregrine. He didn’t think he had it in him to go through telling it a second time.

  Tinker must have realized. “It’s all right, son. I’ll take her for a walk to her favorite place and tell her about your dad. Give her a chance to digest it. When we get back, she’ll talk to Kayla. It’ll work out the way it’s meant to,” he said, pawing his watery eyes. “You’ll see.”

  His grandparents had been gone for over an hour, and Reid couldn’t wait any longer. He knocked on Kayla’s door.

  “It’s me,” he said.

  Silence.

  “We need to talk.”

  More silence. He knocked again in the pattern kids liked to use. “You might as well let me in. I’m not going away.”

  No response.

  He could be as stubborn as she was. He leaned back against the door, absently drumming his fingernails against the jamb.

  The door opened and he fell backward, landing on his rear end. “Hey!”

  Kayla glared at him, hands on her hips. “Are you trying to irritate me to death?”

  “My strategy was persistence. The irritation was incidental. But whatever works.” He held out a hand for help up, but she ignored it and went to the window.

  Reid got to his feet and joined her. They stood, side by side, looking out. He figured more waiting was in order, but after awhile it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything, so he dove in.

  “Kay, you not coming to Ellay—it’s because of last night, right?” She didn’t argue, so he forged ahead. “I want you to know, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was caught off guard and I said the wrong thing. I’m still saying all the wrong things. But I want to do right by you, and by Brian.” His brother’s name was the tiniest bit easier each time he said it. “Please, will you accept my apology? You have to come with us.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said, still staring out the window. “I never should have put you in that position. It was a dumb idea.”

  “It wasn’t dumb. Hell, it’s what everyone wants us to do, but I know it’s not what you want.”

  “I don’t know what I want. I can’t have what I want, and I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “That’s okay,” Reid said. “You don’t have to know what you want. You don’t have to decide anything. Just come with me to Ellay. I want you to.”

  He could tell what her answer would be before she shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” He held his breath, not sure how he wanted her to answer.

  “No, you have to go to Ellay and bring back seeds. It’s what Brian lived for. Now you have to do it for him.”

  “He lived for you, Kayla.”

  Twenty-Five

  Pacific Ocean, aboard the Emancipation

  Nikolai hadn’t been able to get immersed in the book he’d grabbed, a poorly constructed science fiction about an alien invasion. So he’d browsed the library until he found something more appealing—a detective story that took place in the Hawaiian Islands. He’d gone back to his room to read, and ended up sleeping through lunch. Now he was hungry on top of being bored and out of sorts. He paced the tight space between his bed and the basin, wondering if the afternoon would stretch on forever.

  Finally there was a knock and he swung open the doo
r, hoping he didn’t seem too eager.

  “Dinner’s on the table,” Mike said. “Kennedy thought you might want to join us.”

  Nikolai followed him to the dining room where Kennedy sat with three men.

  “Captain Petrov,” Kennedy said, standing. “I’d like you to meet the crew. You know Mike Huffman.”

  Nikolai nodded at Mike.

  “This is Ernesto Pilapil.” Kennedy indicated a small man of Asian descent.

  “Everyone calls me Ernie.”

  “Ernie, Mike, and I crew together on a four-man racing team,” Kennedy said. “Ivan’s the fourth, but he’s at the helm right now. We’re the principle sailing crew aboard the Emancipation. I brought Fahnestock and White along for their non-sailing expertise.”

  “I’m Fahnestock.” A slender man with silver hair peered at Nikolai with hard, blue eyes. “This is White.” He pointed to the very muscular, very black man beside him. “We specialize in weaponry, combat, military tactics, that kind of thing.”

  Neither Fahnestock nor White stood or offered a hand.

  “Have we met before?” Nikolai asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Fahnestock said.

  White squinted his eyes. “No, I’d remember.” His voice was soft.

  “Strange,” Nikolai said. “Given your area of expertise and my past, I’m surprised our paths didn’t cross.”

  “Captain Petrov was a bootlegger before he went to work for the Democracy,” Kennedy explained. “His expertise is more real-world. Including firsthand with pirates.”

  “Indeed,” Fahnestock said. “White and I are scholars, here to obtain some firsthand knowledge of the Pirate Guard ourselves.”

  “It’s why we agreed to come, in fact,” White said, looking pointedly at Kennedy.

  The slightest look of irritation crossed Kennedy’s face, and Nikolai wondered what was behind it.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Nikolai said, pulling out a chair.

  “There’s someone else I want to introduce, Captain,” Kennedy said.

  Nikolai remained standing, uncomfortable that Kennedy kept referring to him as “captain,” when that was Kennedy’s role.

  “This is Friday,” Kennedy said, gesturing to the galley door.

  Finola and Olexi stood in the doorway with a small man of indeterminate age. He had dark brown skin, deep-set black eyes, and pure black hair. His hands were gnarled and disproportionately large for his body.

  “Friday doesn’t speak,” Kennedy said. “He’s a Survivor. My family found him as a toddler and he’s been with us ever since. His hearing is good, but he’s never spoken and doesn’t sign or write. He’s a genius when it comes to boats.”

  “I’ve heard the stories,” Nikolai said. “The legend of Friday is so grandiose, I’d assumed it was a fiction. It’s good to meet you.” He extended his hand to Friday, who clasped it with a surprising gentleness given his ropy musculature. “I’m glad you’re aboard. I’ve heard you can fix anything that floats.”

  Friday nodded, and his bottomless eyes seemed to be smiling, though his placid expression hadn’t changed.

  “It’s true,” Kennedy said. “He can fix anything. But when nothing’s broken, he likes to keep busy in the kitchen. I hope Cook won’t mind having him underfoot.”

  “Underfoot?” Finola bellowed. “He’s much too quick for that. No, he’s no trouble, that one. No trouble at all. He’s worth half a dozen of any helpers I’ve had.”

  Kennedy laughed. “Glad to hear it. Now, I believe it’s time to eat.”

  “We’ll bring the food right out, Captain,” Olexi said.

  Apparently Olexi was serving as kitchen help. A way to spend time with Finola, no doubt.

  “When you come back, please join us,” Kennedy said. “All three of you. We are one crew here, and you are more than welcome at this table.”

  Olexi looked to Finola.

  “If it’s the same to you, Captain Kennedy,” she said, “I’d prefer not.” She didn’t offer an explanation, and though she didn’t look at Nikolai, he felt her anger radiating toward him.

  “I’ll eat in the kitchen, too,” Olexi said.

  Nikolai had the uncharitable thought that his friend was a spineless bastard, but he reminded himself that a man silly in love did all manner of foolish things he wouldn’t ordinarily do. Nikolai had felt that way once, but it was so long ago, it hardly seemed real anymore.

  “We’re easy here,” Kennedy said with an annoying boyish grin. “Eat where you like, when you like.”

  “Your food will be out straight away.” Finola disappeared into the galley with Olexi and Friday trailing behind like two parts of her imposing shadow.

  “She is a national treasure,” Kennedy said. “It’s unbelievable what she can do with a few simple ingredients. I’m more astounded each time she cooks for me.”

  With a start Nikolai registered the implication of Kennedy’s words. “How many times has she cooked for you?”

  “She cooks for Tatiana and me whenever she comes into the capital. I think she knows our kitchen better than Tati does.”

  “Our kitchen?” Nikolai came to his feet, and his chair fell over behind him. It was all he could do not to fly across the table and separate Kennedy’s too-pretty face from his head.

  Kennedy froze with his glass halfway to his lips, then placed it back on the table without taking a drink. “My sincere apologies. That was careless. Tatiana and I—we did not intend for you to find out this way.”

  Kennedy had an appropriately contrite look on his face, but Nikolai still wanted to grab him by his preppy collar and give him a good shake. The only thing preventing it was the knowledge that he would not be able to stop.

  The silence was thick with everyone waiting for his response. But he kept his mouth shut, afraid of what would come out if he dared open it. He was Kennedy’s guest, like it or not, and if he wanted to remain so, it would not be prudent to insult the host at the host’s own table.

  “Captain?” Olexi asked from behind him.

  Nikolai wheeled around, nearly knocking a plate from Olexi’s hand. “I’ve lost my appetite.” He angled his face toward the table, avoiding Kennedy’s eyes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  He stormed back to his room, his heart and mind racing. They’re living together. Living together! Tatiana’s a child, barely twenty. And living with that, that . . . superfluous boyar.

  Once safely behind his closed door, he paced as much as the space would allow.

  His Tatiana, his baby, was living with a man and no one had told him. Not Tatiana. Not Creighton. Not Finola. Corinne probably knew, and Will, too. Yet no one had even bothered to mention that Tatiana had a boyfriend, let alone a lover.

  There was a quiet knock at the door.

  Nikolai hoped with all his being it was Kennedy so that Nikolai could strangle the life out of him. He stared at the door, grinding his teeth, torn between wanting to tell him to come in and knowing he shouldn’t.

  The door opened a crack and Olexi peeked in.

  “Sir?” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “You’re bleeding.”

  Nikolai looked down at his hands. Blood dripped from his closed fists. Slowly he uncurled his fingers, revealing four bloody crescents in each palm.

  “Hold your hands over the basin.” Olexi grabbed a towel from the vanity and pumped the faucet handle.

  Nikolai obediently held out his hands. After a moment, cool water cascaded over his wounds. As his palms began to sting, his cheeks heated. He’d compounded things by behaving like an idiot. What kind of man gets so irate he makes himself bleed?

  Olexi stopped the water and handed him the towel. “Better?”

  Nikolai pressed the towel between his hands. “He’s been sleeping with my daughter.” He looked into Olexi’s eyes and found compassion, but it was the pity he saw there that snapped him to his senses. He had to pull himself together. “Of course, there is nothing to be done now.”

&nbs
p; “There was nothing to be done before, either. Not anything that would have stopped it.”

  Nikolai looked more closely at Olexi. “You knew.”

  Olexi stared back at him, unblinking. “Yes, I did.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “No good would have come of it.”

  “I might have been able to talk some sense into her.”

  “No, Tatiana knows her mind, and she believes she loves him.” A small, sad smile crossed Olexi’s lips. “She chose her path. And she is her father’s daughter—more stubborn, I think, than even you.”

  “She’s a child! Too young to be that involved. Living with someone.” Nikolai twisted the towel, trying to keep his temper from boiling over again.

  “Granted, I haven’t known her long,” Olexi said. “But I know a young woman, not a child. And she could do a whole lot worse than Kennedy.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re impressed by that highbrow.”

  Olexi shook his head. “Is that all you see?” He crossed to the door. “I’m going to walk the deck and throw back a few so you have time to think. It looks to me like you need it.” Olexi left, slamming the door.

  Nikolai spun and hurled the towel at the sink, clenching his teeth to keep from hurling profanities. Olexi was right about one thing—he did need time to think. Time to think about how to get rid of Kennedy Davis.

  Twenty-Six

  Manitou Springs, Colorado

  Reid was glad Kayla hadn’t asked him to stay, because he would have. The truth was, he was excited to go. He rummaged through another bin for the last few things he’d need for the trip. He found two more T-shirts his size, and stuffed them in the pack. The only thing left to find was a hat, then he’d be ready to tackle the food supplies.

  “Son?” Tinker stood in the doorway. “Your grandmother had a little chat with me, and now I need to have one with you.”

  “Sounds serious.” Reid closed the bin and sat on it.

  “Since Kayla is determined to stay here, your grandma’s staying, too. Now, I don’t want to leave her, but she’s insisting.”