by Erin Grey
“Next time,” said Aidon, moving towards the hatch and pulling me behind him. “I’ll send for the guanis soon as I can,” he yelled over his shoulder.
We were sealed into the chamber before a hole opened in the floor and rapidly filled with water. “Madam Céibhfhionn first,” said Aidon, removing his glasses and buttoning them inside a pocket.
She slipped into the water, landing with hardly a ripple in the surface. Aidon waited a few seconds, then hollered down, “Reinforcements arrived yet?”
“Ready and waiting,” she called back.
Aidon pushed me forward. “You next.”
Mitch panicked. “No, no, no,” he moaned.
“The water is so dark,” whimpered Gwendolyn. “I don’t want to go in.”
My body ached with horror. “I don’t know if I can,” I stuttered.
“What?” barked Aidon.
“I’m terrified of the sea,” I blethered. “And with good reason. I grew up by it. I saw how many people died in it. Not to mention storms, sharks, jellyfish, strong currents. I can’t do it.”
“Well, you’ll just have to. Hold your breath.” He pushed.
I landed with an inelegant splash.
9 A fish-tailed horse said to have ended an ancient naval war by arbitrating a game of Who’s-Your-Mother. Used as a nautical symbol of peace.
23
The bit where Aidon is cross
Frigid waters enfolded me, sucking the air from my lungs, paralyzing me with fear. A man with fins fringing his arms and legs swam up and grabbed me, pulling me around to his back and wrapping my arms around his neck.
Aidon and Brianus landed in the water with a flurry of bubbles, and two mer-people quickly latched onto them. We sped forward, Madam Céibhfhionn leading the way.
“Fsssh.”
“No Emmy,” said Jasper. “They are not fish. They are human, albeit genetically distinctive from Earth humans.”
“Hoo-mn.”
“I’m scared,” cried Gwendolyn. “I don’t like the dark and the cold and the wet!”
My lungs pushed against my ribs; they’d explode any second.
“Continue to hold your breath!” ordered Jasper.
“Hurts!” wailed Mitch. “Need air!”
“Darn it, Jane, don’t give up now!” demanded Sandy. “Imagine how cool we’ll look telling this story.”
Sea water burned my throat before I was pushed to the surface, gagging and spluttering as I gasped for air and waves washed more water into my mouth. Other heads popped up, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying through my coughing.
Once again, my arms were pulled around the neck of my ‘ride’, and we sped off, emerging more regularly for air.
“What if there are sharks?” snivelled Gwendolyn.
I closed my eyes tight.
I don’t know how long it took to reach land, but I’d gone from shivering to numb to convinced I’d die from exposure, if a sea predator didn’t get me first.
I could barely mumble a thank-you and goodbye when the mer-people left us in waist-deep water. We stumbled onto the shore, and I fell against the cold sand, the liquid in my garments turning them to lead weights, but Aidon pulled me up and dragged me onwards. We walked into the dark.
* * *
My feet dragged. I had been walking for decades, for centuries. Emmy didn’t even have the energy to sob anymore. Sandy couldn’t sass, Jasper couldn’t criticize, Gwendolyn couldn’t whimper. BIOS hibernated. Only Mitch was able to moan.
“No more … pleeeease,” begged Mitch.
Dwellings appeared around us, but I hardly noted them until they grew denser and the ground beneath my feet turned from dirt to cobblestones. Aidon muttered—his first words since we’d landed on the coast—and I looked up. A pillared building, larger than anything we’d passed, rose up out of the night.
We climbed its steps, and the door swung open at a touch from Aidon. No keys, no locks. Inside, my nose twitched and I sneezed.
“Books,” said Gwendolyn, perking up.
As we walked through a wide hallway with a ceiling so high I couldn’t see it, I caught glimpses of shelves and spines and monstrous, open-jawed chairs.
“Could this place be a library?” said Jasper.
“I thought Eorthe was too advanced for books,” said Sandy.
“It appears that books are akin to the wheel—a fundamental technology for any civilization,” observed Jasper.
Aidon led us through doors and rooms and passages that wound slowly downwards until only BIOS—who had booted up at the first mention of books—knew which direction we’d come from or how many thresholds we’d crossed.
At last we hit a wall that looked smooth as enamelled clay, but Aidon moved his hands in an intricate dance in front of it until a portion detached itself and swung inwards.
The light inside was soft and warm. It felt like coming home. A low ceiling arched into the curved walls, all coloured a rich, earthy ochre. Chairs and couches clustered around a central brassier that glowed green and blue. Tables were scattered with books and papers.
A small girl of ten or twelve was curled up on a striped divan with a knitted blanket draped over her. She stirred at our approach and yawned. “You back, then? It’s late.”
“Yes,” said Aidon, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You needn’t have waited, Ju.”
She shrugged. “Who are they? The stragglers?”
“Yes. Jane, Brianus.” He pointed curtly to each of us.
Ju screwed up her face. “Why is she that funny colour? And what’s wrong with her eyes?”
“I’ll explain later,” said Aidon. “Is there a place ready for them?”
“Yeah.” She led us to small adjoining rooms containing simple beds.
Aidon grumbled something.
“What was that?” I asked.
“You want food?” he grunted.
I took in the angry creases of his forehead and his tightened mouth and shook my head. I’d dragged him into far more trouble than he could possibly have expected, and all because I thought I could handle things myself.
“Just water, please.” My voice would have mortified any self-respecting frog.
“Take care of it, will you, Ju?” said Aidon and left.
“You ought to apologize to him,” said Jasper after Ju had brought water and departed to her own room.
I collapsed on the bed, and the Deep Dark lulled me to sleep with whispers of bad.
* * *
I was woken up by gunfire and sword-fighting. As the mists of slumber dissipated and I smelled spices and fried vegetables and the sharp pungency of alliums, I decided the war zone was, in fact, the kitchen.
“Great,” yawned Sandy. “I’m starving.”
“It would be polite to clean oneself before approaching one’s hosts,” said Jasper.
“But we don’t know where the bathroom is,” said Gwendolyn. “And we don’t have any towels or clean clothes.”
“I say, follow the food smell,” said Sandy.
“Hungy,” asserted Emmy.
“See,” said Sandy approvingly. “Emmy agrees.”
“Oh, very well,” acceded Jasper. “But we ought to ascertain Brianus’ condition first.”
I peeked into Brianus’ room. He was splayed out on his stomach, snoring loudly. I pulled the door closed with painstaking effort to avoid any noise that could wake him and followed the din to the kitchen.
The Incredible Hulk was cooking breakfast. His colossal yellow-gold biceps flexed as he jiggled pans and stirred pots. I’d barely set a foot in the room before he turned and regarded me with a glare.
“You want food?” I swear the crockery rattled with the vibrations of his basso profondo voice.
I stammered out a yes.
“Sit.” He pointed to a large, low table surrounded by couches. I perched carefully on the edge of one.
A steaming bowl was slammed down in front of me, but not a drop of the glistening br
oth spilled. No spoon accompanied it, so I lifted the bowl to my mouth. It smelled of lemongrass and garlic. It tasted of lemongrass and happiness.
“You’re Jane.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. Someone must have told him the name of the ‘Earth girl’, and there was no way I could hide my looks now. My hat and scarf were long gone.
The giant sat at the table with his own bowl and slurped away. “I’m Quirinus.”
“‘Men together’ in Latin,” explained Jasper. “How appropriate.”
“He totally deserves to be called ‘men’, plural,” said Sandy. “He’s about the size of five.”
“He was part of the rescue team at the clinic,” said Gwendolyn. “I remember now.”
“This is delicious,” I said.
“Good.”
Silence.
“You know, you don’t have to try to fill the void with words,” said Sandy huffily. “If he doesn’t want to talk, why should you bother?”
“It is courteous to engage in conversation with one’s dinner partner,” Jasper chided.
I cleared my throat. “You like to cook?” I asked.
“Ugh, you never listen,” complained Sandy. “Well, don’t expect me to think of things to say.”
“I am skilled at cooking,” answered Quirinus with a blank face.
“Ok.” I sipped more broth and tried to suck the warmth into every cell. Sleep had done me a world of good, but I couldn’t help shivering at the memory of the cold, dark sea.
Quirinus tilted the last drops into his mouth, then thumped the bowl back onto the table, making me jump.
“You want more?” he barked.
“No, thank you,” I stammered. “This is enough.”
He grunted and stepped back into the kitchen. My every muscle tensed in fear that wavered between the dread of being left alone and the horror of trying to continue a conversation.
Doors banged and steps hurried towards us.
A vision of elegance appeared. Every classic siren of the silver screen flickered across my mind: Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman, Vivien Leigh. Tall, legs for days, pearlescent skin that could only exist in a black and white movie, glowing midnight hair curled and smoothed into a perfect face frame. Lashes and irises of pitch black, gunmetal lips that tricked my brain into envisioning burgundy red.
She glided forward, hands lifted in artful welcome, her soft grey dress floating about her and repositioning itself to greatest effect with each graceful movement of its wearer.
“Well, hello.” Her voice was everything you’d expect from a glamourous starlet: husky as a chain-smoker.
I could feel Sandy gaping, grasping for words. Gwendolyn swooned. Jasper and Mitch were awestruck. Only Emmy had something to say.
“Piddy!” she gurgled.
“Piddy,” I said.
“Pardon?”
“I mean, pity … I mean” —there was no salvaging it— “I mean hi,” I spluttered, holding out my hand.
“Smooth, Jane, real smooth,” snorted Sandy.
“Smoove!” said Emmy.
The glamazon glanced at my hand with delicate brows drawn together, then smiled and placed her hand in mine as though she expected me to kiss it. Flustered, I gave it a quick squeeze and dropped it.
“You must be one of the rescues that arrived last night,” she breathed. “Jane, I presume?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m Charis. Thrilled to meet you. You’ve eaten, I see.” Her arm motioning gracefully toward the table could have been a royal wave. “How good of you, Quirinus, to take care of her. He’s a most accomplished chef, you know.”
“The broth was delicious.” I cleared my throat. “Is Aidon here?”
“I’m sure he’ll make an appearance shortly.” She smiled—the kind of smile that melts the lips into softened angles and tips the lids over the eyes, like a cat. “Is there something you need?”
“Well, right now, I need a place to wash up and … uh … relieve myself.”
“Really, how can you speak of such things in front of a lady?” Jasper scolded.
Gwendolyn gasped. “Jane IS a lady!”
“She is not a lady in the same sense that Charis is a lady,” replied Jasper snootily.
“Certainly,” answered Charis with a smile and another fluid flourish of her hand. “Follow me.”
She led me to a bathroom and explained how to use the plumbing. It was very similar to what Zhian had, if a little less fancy.
“Here’s a towel,” she said, pulling a soft blue bath sheet from a cupboard. “Holler if you need anything else. I’ll be nearby.”
The warm flow of water washed away a good deal of tension, along with the itchiness of crusted salt from seawater and sweat. But it didn’t relieve the trembling in my stomach as Mitch contemplated facing Aidon again.
Charis was kind enough to provide a change of clothes, far tighter than the ones Idesta had given me. I was terrified to present myself, convinced that every bulge and lump was on display.
“Charming,” announced Charis, gently propelling me towards a mirror. My mouth dropped open. I was … supported. And the colour—what had looked to me like dried blood when loose in my hands—became a pleasant shade of cherry against my now-glowing skin.
“There, now.” She twitched a few of my locks into place, and instantly the rat’s nest transformed into a stylish coiffure that hid my chubby chin and highlighted my cheekbones. “Isn’t that better?”
“Gorgeous,” breathed Gwendolyn.
“Charis knows her stuff,” said Sandy.
“Piddy!” said Emmy, clapping her hands.
“You’re very good at this,” I answered.
She shrugged and smiled her trademark smile. “It’s a knack. Although,” she added with a giggle, “I can’t say I’ve ever worked with someone from Earth before. Let’s sit for a spell and become acquainted.”
She led me to the sitting room where I’d first seen Ju. I chose a poufy fern-patterned armchair while Charis arranged herself on a shocking pink chaise longue.
“Now,” she said, “why don’t you tell me all about how an Earth girl ended up in a clinic for Abnormals.”
* * *
When I finished telling Charis my ridiculous story, Aidon finally showed himself, trudging into the lounge and grunting a greeting at us. My updated appearance gave me the confidence to confront him straightaway.
I jumped to my feet. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” I stammered. “Really, I am. I should have listened to you.”
His mouth twisted, and he nodded. He took in my new clothes and look. “Charis got hold of you, I see,” he rumbled.
“Oh, how grumpy we are today,” laughed Charis. “Did a tsogatsua sleep on your chest last night?”
“Ha ha ha,” said Aidon drily. “As it happens, I slept like the dead, so a hoard of nachtmerries could have nested in my bed and I wouldn’t have noticed.” He glanced at me. “Anyone would have after the day I had.”
Mitch groaned.
Blanching, I fumbled for words that would assuage the guilt I felt. “The sooner you find me a way home the sooner you can be rid of me.”
“Right,” agreed Aidon, tugging his glasses back up his nose and flopping into a rickety chair. “I’ve got Ric on the job. He’s already sent messages to those he thinks can help.” He pulled out his translucent stone and began tossing it back and forth between his hands. “Charis will join him later. In the meantime, I need you to tell me everything you can about Zhian and how you got here.”
“Here we go again,” grumbled Sandy.
I repeated the story I’d just told Charis. Aidon asked far more questions, wanting details about the ship, Zhian’s house, Idesta. Jasper and BIOS worked to scrounge together as much information as possible.
“So Zhian claimed he had no idea how you got on the ship?” asked Aidon for the third time.
“Yes,” I answered, massaging my temples. “At least, he kept asking me how I got there, so I
guess it was more like he implied he didn’t know. But he obviously did, because he’d been watching me for who knows how long and decided to kidnap me.”
“So he never stated directly that he didn’t know how you got on the ship, but he did repeatedly say outright that he didn’t know how to get you back.”
“Yes, but he was probably lying.”
Aidon rubbed his chin with a flat palm. “Knowing Zhian, I suspect he never straight out lied to you. He simply used ambiguity and inference to deceive you.”
I harrumphed. “That makes it all better, does it?”
“I’m not defending him,” said Aidon, regarding me with a blank expression and bouncing his stone up and down in his palm. “I’m just trying to understand how he fits into this whole mess.”
“Fits into it?” said Sandy. “Can’t he see Zhian IS the whole mess?”
“Let’s go back to the day at the clinic,” said Aidon. He relegated his pet rock to his pocket and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I haven’t listened to the recordings from that day. What did you do there? What did he show you?”
“Zhian said he was going to help me and that he could get that help at the clinic. I thought he meant help me get home, but he actually wanted to drug me with those horse sedatives. He thought showing me his zombified friends would make me happy about the whole thing.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know; maybe because he’s a deluded asshole?” I snapped.
“No, I mean, why the drugs?” said Aidon. “Why did he think you needed them?”
I hesitated. “Didn’t you hear what he said when you found us? About the … the …”
“Depression and anxiety? Yes, I heard him. But I want to hear it from you.”
I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “I … get anxious. For no reason, I get overwhelmed and panic. Then my heart goes nuts and I can’t think or breathe and I feel like I’m going to die.”
Aidon regarded me thoughtfully, and I felt Mitch’s anxiety-fuelled drive to fill the silence.
“I also … get really … um … down. I have no energy or motivation. Sometimes I can’t get out of bed, even if I’m starving or thirsty or desperate for a shower. I lose all interest in life and feel this intense pain, like someone’s stabbing me in the stomach, and death seems like the only way to stop it. Because if I’m dead, no one can hurt me and I won’t feel anything or have to meet expectations or see disappointment on anyone’s face or know that they’re worried and panicking about me. I can just go to sleep and never worry again.”
