“A lot,” Ariane said. She hated to see her mother cry, but she didn’t have time for this. “I have to go.”
She turned toward the bathroom.
“What?” Emma cried.
“Ariane, no!” her mom called after her. “Please, I need you...we have to...”
Ariane turned around. The shard of Excalibur at her side burned, a spark lighting her anger, and she did nothing to control it. “I’ve needed you for two years, Mom,” she almost snarled. “You’re safe. Wally isn’t. You can wait. He can’t.” She stepped into the bathroom, started the water running, paused to check her energy level. Minutes before, she’d been in the Caribbean, exhausted by her efforts to free the fourth shard. Then she’d recharged by her connection to her mother – and that energy was still with her.
“Ariane, I’m –” she heard her mother begin, and then she was gone.
Wally will be all right, she told herself, in the brief minutes she was without her body, all the time it took now for her to streak back to Cacibajagua Island. He’s smart. He can take care of himself.
She burst out of the water of Lake Tanama in the middle of a howling storm. Lightning tore the clouds and thunder assaulted her ears. She scrambled out of the lake and stood on the path bordering it in the wind-whipped rain.
Realization hit her like a blow.
Rex Major – Merlin – had the fourth shard. She knew it from the altered song of the first shard at her side. She couldn’t sense where he was, but he had to be heading back to the resort. She had to go after –
No. She had to find Wally.
She ran along the path around the lake to where it began its descent to the seashore. Water sluiced around her bare feet as she started down. The rain had made the path slippery as ice, but she ordered the water away from her feet so the ground turned bone-dry, and hurried down as sure-footed as a mountain goat.
The storm never eased. The wind tore through the palm fronds and bushes, bits of greenery flying across the path, vines whipping at her bare legs and arms and face. The lightning and thunder attacked the island like an endless artillery barrage.
And Ariane came out from under the trees and saw, in the flare of lightning, Wally lying unconscious on the path below her, his pale body, clad only in his swim trunks, sprawled awkwardly in the mud, the wound in his shoulder bleeding again.
Ariane’s heart stuttered. “Wally!” she screamed. He didn’t move.
Abandoning caution, she started to run down the path. Her feet slipped and she fell, rolled, brought up against a rock, stumbled up and continued running. She reached Wally and dropped to her knees beside him.
To her unutterable relief, she saw that he was breathing. His head lay against a rock. Had he hit it? She didn’t see any blood from his head, only from his shoulder.
Was it safe to move him?
She stared around. There was no one in sight. She could take him to the resort, get them to –
No. Rex Major was there. She couldn’t take a wounded Wally there and hand Major yet another hostage.
There was only one place she and Wally could go to get help.
She sat in the mud beside him, pulled his wet body close to hers, and took both of them north.
From the warm sluicing water of the rain-soaked Caribbean island to the chlorine-tinged water of the Medicine Hat Lodge pool took only moments. Ariane moved fast the moment they emerged beneath the waterslide, hauling Wally to the edge of the pool, keeping his head above water, and screaming, “Help! Help! He’s hit his head! He’s bleeding!”
A flurry of activity. Staff came running. People shouted questions. Ariane just kept saying, “He hit his head, he hit his head,” and “Get my aunt, Room 211!”
Someone called 911. Emma appeared. “Ariane, what...?” she said.
“He hit his head,” was all she said.
And all the time she held Wally, her arms beneath his arms, circling his chest, her body pressed up against his. She could feel him breathing, could feel his heart beating, but he still hadn’t woken up...
The ambulance crew arrived. Ariane relinquished Wally at last, watched the crew immobilize his neck and head, dress the wound on his shoulder, ease him onto a backboard, place him on a gurney, roll him out. “I’m coming, too,” she said.
“Ariane,” Emma said. “You’re only wearing your swimsuit. It’s December.”
“I don’t care. I’m going in the ambulance.”
“Your mother –”
“I’m going with Wally!” Ariane almost shouted at her. She found her fists clenched, loosened them. “It’s my fault he got hurt. My fault he got involved in this at all. And then I left him to Rex Major...I’m going with him. I’m not leaving him until I know he’s all right.”
Emma stared at her then nodded, once. “All right, Ariane,” she said. “I’ll bring some clothes to the hospital. Go.”
Ariane turned without another word and hurried after the paramedics.
Please let him be all right, she whispered. She’d never gone to church, and prayer wasn’t something that came naturally to her, but all the same, this wasn’t the first time she’d prayed – that had been when her mother had disappeared.
Please let him be all right.
And then the shard burned against her side, and she added, And if he isn’t, Rex Major will pay...Rex Major and Felicia Knight.
Wally’s sister had helped Merlin get the fourth shard. She must have known Wally was hurt, must have known Merlin had left him lying in the mud on that steep hillside path, and had done nothing. If they’d been able to take off in the storm, they’d be in the air by now, flying back to Toronto, flying back to the lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous luxury that was all Flish cared about. She’d left her brother in the mud, dying – or already dead for all she knew – just so she could get back to her big-screen media room.
Ariane had hurt Flish badly once before, breaking her leg in the confrontation on the tennis court between her and the coven of mean girls of which Flish had been a part. Wally had been horrified. It had opened the gulf between them into which Rex Major had driven his wedge of lies and half-truths. Ariane had apologized, had promised Wally, for his sake, that she wouldn’t hurt Flish again...
...but it was a promise she would break in an instant if Wally were seriously hurt, and Flish had had anything to do with it.
And as for Rex Major...
The sword kept telling her to kill her enemies, to use its power to strike them down.
For the first time, she thought it might have a point worth listening to.
She clambered into the back of the ambulance, took Wally’s hand, and rode with him to the hospital, staring down at his white face, but thinking black, black thoughts.
<•>
The storm began to die away as Major and Felicia hurried along the path to the resort, though even after the rain eased the massive waves crashing against the rocks to their left doused them with salt spray. Their route took them into a lush tropical garden at the back of the rambling two-storey structure. Calling it a hotel was over-praising it, Major thought; it boasted only forty rooms. But then, cave diving wasn’t for everyone. Those who came to dive Joju Cave – and the others on the island, many of which were far more technically challenging and dangerous – were willing to pay a premium for the adventure.
Well, he wouldn’t have to spend another night there. “The storm has eased enough we should be able to take off,” he said to Flish as they entered the garden. “I’ll have my pilot prepare the plane. Go to your room and put on some clothes.”
But Flish stopped at the garden’s wrought-iron gate, hung on two stone pillars topped with gas torches that flickered and flared in what was now a mere drizzle and a fitful breeze. “No,” she said.
“No?” Major said. “You’d prefer to fly naked?”
“No,” Felicia said. “I’m not going anywhere until you send someone back for Wally. You can’t just leave him lying there.”
Major felt an
ger boil up in him. He knew – because he knew the ways of Excalibur so well – that some of it was coming from the two shards of Excalibur he now bore, even if he could not access their power without Felicia’s Arthur-empowered touch. But much of it – maybe most of it – was his own. He was utterly and completely fed up with the interfering troublesome teenagers that had plagued his life since his cursed sister had managed to convince Ariane Forsythe to accept the power of the Lady of the Lake.
“I told you,” he snarled, “that he’s the Lady’s problem – Ariane’s problem. He could have worked with me, he could have been at my side when we came here to retrieve the fourth shard instead of you, but he betrayed me, attacked my men, and stole the third shard when it was in my grasp. I will not lift a finger to help him.”
“Then I will,” Felicia said. She suddenly darted past him, holding her towel in place with one hand while she cupped the other to her mouth to shout, “Help! Help! Someone’s hurt!”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Merlin roared. He could not Command Felicia, but he had other powers even without her touching the shard: the mere fact four of them were now at loose in the world had strengthened the thread of magic from Faerie. He clenched his fist and the path in front of her heaved, throwing her as if it were a bucking bronco. She fell hard, losing the towel in the process, and scrambled for it to cover herself again as Major strode toward her. “Very well!” he said as he glared down at her. “I will have the resort staff go to your brother. But we will not wait for him to be returned here. We will fly away as soon as the plane is ready. Now will you get dressed?”
Felicia gathered the towel around her and stood up, tying it again at her back. “All right,” she said. Her face was red, though whether with embarrassment or anger he couldn’t tell. “But I want proof they’re going after Wally before I get on the plane.”
“I’ll give it to you right now,” Merlin said. “Come inside.”
He stalked along the path through the remainder of the garden, brushing aside the giant flowers hanging low, weighed down by the rainfall, his feet crushing the petals the rain had driven from some of them. He walked into the lobby, made to look like the inside of a tropical hut, all wooden beams and bamboo and palm fronds. Peter Camus came out from the office behind the desk as they entered.
“Are you all right?” he said anxiously. “We were worried. The storm came up so suddenly. Lewis staggered back some time ago but he seemed very confused, and couldn’t tell us anything about what had happened to the two of you. He was bleeding – I think maybe he fell and hit his head. Did you shelter in the cave?” His gaze flicked to Felicia, in her skimpy blue bikini top and mud-stained towel, and she looked down, flushing.
Major could imagine what Camus thought. He also didn’t care. “In a manner of speaking. There has been considerable damage in the cave...a lightning strike shattered some of the rocks. And there was a boy – one of those two shipwrecked teens Lewis found in the hut. We saw him on the path up to the lake, then there was another lightning strike, and we couldn’t see him anymore. We didn’t dare look for him, with the storm, and poor Felicia...we thought it best to get back to the resort as quickly as we could. But you should send someone out immediately to look for him, and the girl, too, to make certain they’re all right.”
“At once!” Camus said. He ran back into the office and Merlin could hear him talking on the phone, though he couldn’t make out the words. A few minutes later he returned. “I’ve got a couple of men heading out there now with a first-aid kit and a stretcher. If the boy is injured, we’ll find him and bring him back.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Major said. He gave Felicia a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad to hear it?”
“Very glad,” Felicia muttered. “Can I go get dressed now?”
“I think you should,” Major said. “We’ll be leaving within the hour.”
Felicia hurried out of the lobby. Camus watched her go then swung his gaze back to Merlin. “Leaving, Mr. Major?”
“Yes,” Major said. And then he switched to the Voice of Command. “Call your men. Tell them to come back. There is no boy.”
“Of course, Mr. Major.” Camus went back into the office again, gave new orders, came out again. “Leaving, Mr. Major?” he repeated, as if the previous few moments had never happened – which, in his mind, they hadn’t.
“Yes,” Merlin said again. “Please have the driver come around to take us to the airstrip. Thank you for your hospitality. It has been an enlightening and profitable visit. I will speak to your owner about a possible investment.”
“Wonderful news, Mr. Major!” Camus said. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“It has been,” Rex Major said, “entirely my pleasure.”
He left the lobby for his own room. He’d packed his suitcase before he’d headed back to the cave, in expectation he would want to leave the moment he returned to the resort. He kept the shards of Excalibur on his person – he’d had a bad experience with a previous attempt to tuck a shard away in a suitcase, even with a protective spell – and took his suitcase down to the lobby. Felicia, now fully dressed, awaited him there. Silently they climbed into the overgrown golf cart that would take them to the airstrip. As they rode, Major checked his email on his phone...and swore, a single obscene word fired from his lips like a bullet.
“What now?” Felicia said.
“That brat Ariane Forsythe managed to rescue her mother,” he snarled. “I don’t even know how she found her. Or how she got there that fast.” He stopped, thought, and then swore again as he understood what it had to mean. “She’s growing in power, just as I am. She’s gaining more of my dear sister’s abilities, the powers she would have taught Ariane how to use if I hadn’t forced her out of the world as quickly as I did.”
He pulled the fourth shard of Excalibur out of his pocket. “We each have two shards,” he said. He wasn’t really talking to Felicia, but to himself. “We each have an heir of Arthur to help us draw on their power.” He tightened his fist on the shard, just shy of the point where the blade would cut into his flesh. “Stalemate.”
“There’s one more piece to go, isn’t there?” Felicia said.
Merlin nodded. They’d reached the airstrip, and the ride had smoothed as the cart moved from the gravel road to the resort onto the smooth tarmac of the strip. At the end, Merlin’s jet waited, the hatch open, a warm, welcoming light spilling down the steps.
“The hilt,” he said. “Whoever gets it will be able to command the other to give up their shards voluntarily – and Excalibur will be reforged and whole once more.” He rubbed the ruby stud in his ear. “Almost.”
“Reforged how?” Felicia said. “Hard to find a swordsmith these days.”
“The sword will forge itself,” Merlin said. He put the shard back into his pocket. “Neither of us will be able to sense the final piece while the other holds two shards. But it will reveal itself to me, just as this shard did.” He patted his pocket. “All it takes is one smartphone to get close enough to the hilt’s hiding place for the magic I have wound into the Internet to detect it. Ariane does not have that ability. She will not interfere again.”
“Isn’t that what you said this time?” Felicia said, and then turned her gaze once more to the private jet as the cart’s driver delivered them to the foldaway staircase that descended from the airplane’s open hatch. The pilot came down the steps to carry their luggage aboard for them.
Major was about to give a short, sharp answer to her impertinent question when the sight of the pilot reminded him of another issue. They climbed aboard and the pilot sealed the hatch. But when the girl went to strap herself in, Major stopped the man before he could go into the cockpit.
“I have a question,” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“If someone wanted to know where this plane is going, is there a way they could find out?”
The pilot thought for no more than a second before saying, “Well, of course I have to file a
flight plan specifying our destination.”
Major felt a chill. “Is that a public document?”
“Yes, sir. It’s available on the Internet.”
“Ah, thank you. Let’s get underway.”
“Yes, sir.” The pilot went into the cockpit. Major joined Felicia in the forward lounge and buckled in. He schooled his face to impassiveness, but inside he was seething. All those layers of security, and I left a back door wide open. A door I didn’t even know existed. And that meddlesome brat walked right through it. Twice! Laughing at me!
The jet’s engines cycled up. They began to move. Major’s thoughts went to another meddlesome teenager.
Ariane Forsythe will not interfere again, he told himself. She must have left a trail, rescuing her mother. I’ll put more men on the case. I’ll find her. I can’t kill her – not yet – but I’ll put a stop to her interference once and for all.
Once. And. For. All.
The thought accompanied him all the way back to Toronto. It wasn’t a threat.
It was a promise.
Chapter Eighteen
“God Bless Us, Every One!”
Wally woke. He blinked up at speckled acoustic tiles, a curtain hanging from a metal track, a susurration of voices, public-address announcements, machines beeping...
Hospital. He reached up and touched his head. It wasn’t bandaged, which was something, but it still hurt. So did his bruised and lacerated shoulder.
Great, he thought. Probably another concussion. At last I’ll have something in common with my hockey-playing friends.
Well, I would if I had any.
What had happened? He remembered Major showing up in the cave. He remembered clambering over Ariane, then – holy mackerel! He’d been shot at by Jacob Lewis!
Now he remembered jumping into the water, grabbing the shard off Flish, climbing up toward the lake...
But after that, everything was a blank.
Major, he thought. He must have done something. But clearly it hadn’t been enough to stop Wally Knight. He felt pretty good, actually, all things considered. Except for the headache and the shoulder ache. And the hunger. When had he last eaten?
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