Water's Threshold

by Jillian Jacobs

  He bent his head.

  Her lips parted.

  “Foressher,” Clay’s voice interrupted. “Whadaya doing, Foressher?”

  His friends issued catcalls from the windows of the limo, which idled at the end of the alley.

  She stepped away and issued another warning. “Stay away from Crowder, Terran.”

  His mind and body remained mired in lust. Her voice had washed over him, wrapping him in the scene, in the motion of the water rolling against the shore, her body into his. She wouldn’t leave without some answers this time.

  With a fast paced stride, he caught up with her, grabbed her arm, and wrapped her wrist against the hollow of her back. Towering over her, he spoke in a low steady voice. “Don’t walk away. Not this time. Who are you? Tell me.”

  Her gaze flicked to her shoulder, where her arm was bent around her back. She raised a brow and parried, “Commands instead of questions. Interesting.”

  “Terran, lesh go!” Clay yelled. The top half of his body stuck out of the limo’s sunroof, and a bottle of whisky tipped in his hand.

  Terran flashed the fingers of his free hand, asking for five more minutes. He released her arm.

  She sighed and complied with his request. “My name is Maya Conway.”

  “Maya Conway,” he repeated and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you. I believe for our first date, I’ll take you to a shoe store and buy you some shoes, since you don’t seem to understand the concept. They come in quite handy, especially—”

  This time, when he took her hand, every molecule in his body clicked into place. Through that small connection, he glimpsed the answer to every question, every doubt, and every sensation he’d ever had. Another plane of mental awareness opened and stretched wide as long as they remained linked together. Waves crashed in her blue eyes, and traces of salt water and sea musk flared in the air.

  She squeezed his hand before breaking contact.

  Terran scratched his head. “What?...What was I saying? Your shoes. Right. In parking lots like this it is unclear what kinds of particulates and dried fluids are on the concrete. Walking barefoot isn’t safe or healthy.”

  “Terran, you’re sweet to worry about me. And I do appreciate your efforts to protect me against Ethan, but you need to go with your friends now. When I’ve time for you and your shoe talk, I’ll find you.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and remained silent as she hopped on her bicycle and rode off to who knew where.

  She stopped at the end of the alley, turned back, and offered a cheeky grin. “Sorry you got so wet. Although, I must say, if there had been a wet T-shirt contest, you’d get my vote.” She winked and laughed again.

  The girl really got too much of a kick out of her own jokes.

  He headed to the limo and replayed the evening’s events in his mind. How could everything come together when he touched her then just as easily crumble into confusion? He would make it a point to learn everything he could about Maya Conway.

  Chapter 5

  Monday morning, Terran wet the drying nib of his pen as he transferred test results from the Transmission Electron Microscope into a lab notebook. Each day, he used scientific methods to break down problems piece by piece. The non-routine of each day in the lab helped sustain his passion for the work.

  Clay crashed into the lab at twenty minutes after eight—late, as usual. “Hey Forrester, you’ll never believe what I heard at the coffee shop.”

  Placing his finger where he’d left off on the page, Terran sighed then marked the spot with a small check. Almost every morning, Clay stopped at his desk and spent fifteen minutes regurgitating town gossip. This frequent distraction trained Terran to devote his early hours to paperwork that didn’t require intense concentration. Clay wasn’t the only threat to his focus this morning. The printout’s letters and graphs blurred together at the memory of holding Ms. Conway’s hand, not to mention how she’d looked when she’d ripped off those shorts.

  Not the time, not the place.

  He’d found a groove and hadn’t thought of Maya in the last half hour. At Clay’s interruption, Terran strove to keep the focus on work. “You’re in the lab today. We’ve got water samples from quadrant four. Grab your lab coat and safety glasses.”

  “I’m putting them on. Chill, boss-man. I heard some interesting info this morning.” Clay grabbed his lab coat off the hook by the door and approached Terran’s desk. An obnoxious slurp whistled through Clay’s lips as he sipped from the hole in his coffee cup’s plastic lid. “Waaahh, still too hot.”

  Terran tossed his glasses onto his desk and rubbed his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he tried to move Clay along. “I have no idea what you’re going to say, and I’m not guessing. Just tell me. What exciting information did you learn this morning?”

  Clay frowned at Terran’s apparent lack of enthusiasm, but forged on. “Ethan Crowder walked straight into the police station this morning and turned himself in for roughing up a stripper on Thursday night. Can you believe that? And they said he was soaking wet, like he’d been water-boarded into talking. He went in, confessed to smacking the girl, and asked to be arrested. Like he’d lost his mind, he kept—”

  “Wait a minute, what did you say?” Terran straightened in his chair as he zeroed in on a portion of Clay’s statement.

  “I said he kept—”

  Terran slashed a hand through the air. “No before that, you said he was all wet?”

  “Yeah. Waterboarding, man, like somebody tortured him. Sick.”

  “The more reasonable theory would follow that there is a new security business in town, using some sort of hydraulic system. Interesting concept as water can be a powerful deterrent.” The gas station, the strip club, and a soaked Crowder were all effective testimonials for the security system’s salesman.

  Terran tapped his pen against the papers on his desk. “It’s unfortunate someone didn’t put a stop to Ethan’s behavior before this occurred.”

  “I understand you laid Ethan out pretty good.” Clay jabbed his shoulder. “I don’t remember much about Friday night, but I do remember that tight blonde from the strip club. You were talking to her outside after the sprinklers went off. She may be the same blonde who came in with the stripper when she gave her statement against Crowder.”

  How was Maya mixed up in all this? Why was she always around when there were crimes being committed?

  “The ‘tight’ blonde has a name, Clay. It’s Maya Conway. Quite the mystery.”

  “Forrester, I have no doubt with that monstrous brain of yours, you’ll figure her out.” Clay raised his cup in a mock toast then left to run his samples.

  Terran huffed out a laugh. Now was not the time to be distracted with thoughts of Ethan Crowder or blonde hydrologists. Test results from the channel catfish had come back inconclusive. The next step was acquiring live specimens in order to test their blood. Prion testing was difficult because regular methods didn’t work. He had developed a prototype test, in the hopes it would separate normal proteins from rogue prions. Proving the prions existed in an aquatic species would be groundbreaking, because no one had discovered their existence in anything other than mammals.

  As he fired up his laptop, he calculated the economic impact his discovery would have on the area. The panic over purchasing diseased fish would devastate the market value and the income of local fishermen. If the prions existed in the fish, then they could potentially transfer to everything that ate the fish. Not to mention the outbreak at Crowder’s Ranch.

  The Conservancy may not want him to move forward with tests from Crowder’s land, but this extreme threat against the local environment gave him no choice. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, retrieved his brown binder, and reviewed his test results once more. His duty was to the land and its inhabitants—the problem required solutions.

  # # #

  Quint leaned against the wooden counter at the Sheriff’s office. The smell of burnt coffee assaulted the air and mixed with t
he hearty blend of sweat and fear. He breathed in each scent. Every flavor, every nuance added an appealing layer to being human.

  These peons didn’t exult in being alive, didn’t embrace the possibilities. Although more than a few had tried—based on the hustle and bustle behind the counter and whining criminals shoved into chairs next to officers’ desks.

  Unfortunately, they now faced the consequences of stifling human law. Lowly fools. These ridiculous humans let rules laid down in an ancient book fight against their true natures. Nothing held him back. He was everywhere, everything. He encompassed all and as long as he remained on this plane, he took as he pleased, not bound by archaic beliefs or physical boundaries.

  A tall man with bushy gray sideburns leading to an equally bushy beard approached.

  Quint adopted the mask of an outraged father. Not that he cared, but for now the façade entertained.

  The ill-groomed bushman smiled, removed his hat, and offered his hand. From Crowder’s memories, Quint drew forth the hairy creature’s name and ignored the proffered greeting. “Sheriff Cody, I find I am greatly inconvenienced at this interruption to my day. Why wasn’t I informed earlier? We both know my son has a weakness for beautiful women. This little jade is only after his money. Somehow, he was coerced into giving his statement. I make donations to your campaign so I don’t have to come down here and deal with this nonsense. I want my son out. Now.” He pounded a fist onto the counter and stifled a smile when Cody jumped.

  “I can’t do it this time,” Cody confessed, worrying his hat in his hands. “The girl came in and gave her statement. She had an emergency room report. The arrest is out of my hands.”

  Nervous energy swirled within the sheriff, and Quint saw the thin line of sweat forming on his brow. The man only cared about Crowder’s contributions to his political campaigns. This poor excuse for a human stood there contemplating how he could follow the law and still placate Crowder enough to remain in his good graces. Contemptible. This discussion no longer amused.

  “I want to speak to him.”

  “We’re still processing your son. I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait.”

  “Take me to him. Now.” Quint prodded against Cody’s mind. His dark will brushed across Cody’s high-strung nerves. This minion would not deny him.

  The sheriff scratched his beard, and then led him to the back room.

  Good boy.

  Ethan sat alone on a lumpy cot in a six by eight feet brick cell.

  Quint peered through the steel bars turned to Cody and ordered, “Unlock it and leave us.”

  Cody complied and wandered back down the hall. A torrent of colorful language erupted from the cell occupant closest to the door as the Sheriff walked past.

  Quint returned his attention to Crowder’s son. The man-child rocked back and forth as if lost in madness. Quint detected the blue wave of consciousness flowing through Ethan’s body—Maya’s influence. Her gifts had grown quite strong since their last encounter.

  Still nothing compared to his capabilities.

  “What have you done, boy?” Quint scolded, maintaining the mask of a disappointed father. “You only gave the teasing wench what she asked for. You are guilty of nothing.”

  An unpleasant mix of piss and tears struck Quint’s nostrils. The ragged child clutched a hand to his chest as if in pain. An azure swell warred with the black heart in his chest. Maya’s grip held strong against the dark hand struggling to maintain control over the soul of this quivering human mess.

  “I hurt her.” The boy sniveled out. “I had to make it right.”

  “Right? As if you understand the meaning of that word.” Quint whipped open the cell door, slamming it against the wall. “Look at you balled up like a baby on a piss-filled cot. What kind of man allows a woman to put him in such a state? If you had come to me, I would have made it right. We could have paid the bitch some money, and that would have been the end of it. Just like before, but now you’ve inconvenienced me. Get up. Let’s go.”

  “No, I need to stay. I’m not going back out there.” Fear flowed within the child and he remained anchored in a mire of guilt. Quint gleaned the strength of Maya’s influence that forced Ethan to comprehend the error in what he’d done. The boy’s glazed eyes looked into a mirror of pain, which reflected back and pierced his soul with the shame and culpability of all his illicit deeds.

  Quint’s lip curled and he turned away from this human’s feeble mind. How dare he submit to some water fairy. “What’s the matter with you, boy?” He entered the cell and stood before the whimpering simpleton. “Do you want to stay close to that crashing wave of awareness, seeing and experiencing every wrong you’ve done? Are you so weak you cannot embrace the pain long enough to fight through it? Don’t let that water witch control you.”

  Ethan’s red-rimmed eyes glared and a defiant black glimmer emerged from the wash of blue in his eyes. The boy’s hunger to prove his manhood to his father, that fierce need lingering in every little boy’s heart, beat hard within this child. “Help me. Please. Make it stop.”

  “Child,” Quint scoffed. “I don’t believe you are worthy of the gift I can give you.”

  “I-I-I am. I am w-worthy.” Ethan held the cot’s metal edge in a white-knuckled grip.

  “Listen to you sniffle and stutter. You disgust me. Stand up!”

  “What?”

  “Stand. Up.” Quint’s patience thinned at this foul creature’s inability to follow a simple command.

  Ethan shuffled to his feet and mumbled, “What’s wrong with you?”

  Quint gripped Ethan’s chin. “What’s wrong is I have a worthless waste of energy for a son.” With his back to the cell door, he braced a hand at the back of the shocked stripling’s neck then locked his lips over Ethan’s mouth and released a burst of dark matter down his throat.

  Ethan jerked away and wiped a hand across his mouth. Eyes wide, he stared at his father. “What are you doing? What did you kiss me for?”

  Quint slapped him across the face. “What’s this? What’s that? Be grateful all I did was kiss you.” He lodged his forearm against Ethan’s throat and pressed him against the cell wall. “Are you a survivor? Or will my essence be too much? Embrace the gift, child, or die. It matters not to me.”

  Chapter 6

  “So, you’re stripping now?”

  Maya glanced at Nodin over the rim of her teacup. “No, I explained what happened. I was helping that girl by going undercover on amateur night.”

  “Sorry I missed the show. Flint would have loved it.”

  “That Crowder kid is a menace to every woman in this town. I had to stop him.”

  A week had passed since she’d spoken to Terran at the strip club. Maya rubbed her fingers against her breastbone. Worry for him erupted in an area of her heart she believed dried up long ago.

  After spending the past few days at the outlet stream removing catfish that had contracted the same disease as the charred cow, Maya understood a larger problem existed. Her link with nature allowed her to sense the negative energy patterns coursing through earth’s creatures. After a bit of research at the library, she determined the name of the disease and its causes—Mad Cow or BSE. At sixes and sevens, she called on Nodin for guidance.

  Nodin met her at a table outside the local coffee shop. Perfect timing, since Quint had struck again last night. A late night visit to rejuvenate in her hot spring resulted in finding nothing but an empty, dried-up hole.

  They needed a plan. Why was Quint back? Why the continued attacks against her, specifically?

  Nodin lounged with his head tilted back, basking in the sun’s morning rays. Wisps of white vapor rose from an untouched cup of black coffee, sitting on the café table before him.

  Maya sipped her green tea then clanged the mug against the glass tabletop, which jolted Nodin from his sun worship.

  “Our next move should be a visit to Crowder’s farm. We’ll start at the stream and spread our efforts from there. We need Flint to burn
the diseased animals. I’ve done what I can in the water, but I noticed a few wolves that fed on Crowder’s charred cow are now shaky and disoriented. We’ll have a good old-fashioned round-up. Where is Flint anyway?”

  Nodin heaved a heavy sigh. His calm, philosophical mind always clashed against her emotional, dramatic need to act now and worry about the consequences later. “I am unaware of Mother’s placement of Flint.”

  Maya tapped her empty teacup against the table.

  Nodin reached over and stilled her hand.

  “That’s another thing…what is Mother thinking? I don’t want an Elemental life for Terran. He deserves all the normal events a human life can offer.” She ran both hands through her hair. Conflicting thoughts coursed through her mind. While she longed to journey through life with Terran, she realized this was a selfish hope and foolish dream since his path remained unclear. “I don’t believe he’ll ever accept becoming peri-mortal. I can just imagine the conversation, ‘Hey, guess what Terran? You have to take daily mud baths or you will die. Again. You can’t eat, can’t sleep, and your life now entails fighting freaks of nature and every major criminal whose dirty deeds pop into your mind. What? What is that you say? Nope, sorry no choice in the matter, too bad for you, case closed. Destiny rules.’”

  Nodin shook his head and ran a finger along the rim of his coffee cup. “Maya, you’re over-exaggerating the facts.”

  “Am I? He should be allowed time to consider the consequences before having this life foisted upon him.”

  “The philosopher Kierkegaard says, ‘Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward.’ Mother will do as she pleases. She always has. I understand your concerns, but once Terran sees the possibilities, I believe he will embrace his path.”

  The waitress came out to check on them for the third time that morning. The poor girl twitched and jittered either from too much coffee or the potency of Nodin’s charm. After an innuendo-filled conversation, the girl left with a promise to return with a fresh cup of coffee.