Chapter 4
Smooth Sailing
Vor Wantoro Chikalto sat in a chair in the hospital wing of the Chikalto castle. The room was decorated in peaceful watercolor landscapes, but as usual, no amount of cheerful artwork could dispel the pain in the room. Wantoro kissed Raaychila on the cheek. Although she was still in a coma, her heart rate and breathing had steadily increased, and then, just last month, the doctors said she was semi-conscious. Her long red hair was braided and looked stunning against the purple satin sheets Jeremy had requested for her repose.
Wantoro turned the dimmed lights to maximum brightness. He wanted to make sure she knew it was morning. "I love you, you're doing so well," said Wantoro gently. "We're heading out to Gondor Reef this afternoon. Mateo and Maren are here; they've just arrived yesterday. Your niece Lilac had an amazing birthday party last night. She loved dancing with Jeremy. He said he'd give her some lessons while she's here." Wantoro looked down at his watch. "Well I'd best start getting ready for our trip. Don't want to keep everyone waiting. I'll let you know how Lilac's lessons go."
Three hours later, Wantoro, Mateo, Maren, Jeremy, and a small crew were sailing on a yacht in the Flakjin Ocean. The craft was a hundred feet from stern to bow, and her name was Willow. She had been in the Chikalto family for generations, lovingly refurbished over the years and updated with state-of-the-art equipment. Although to the masses a trip on the Willow simply reflected the leisure and opulence of the ruling class, to the Chikaltos the voyage usually meant there was business to be discussed, away from prying eyes and ears. Of course, there was no reason to turn up a perfectly good opportunity to catch some fish to boot.
It was a sunny, calm afternoon out on the water, the occasional cloud passing overhead. The translucent blue Flakjin Ocean was teeming with life, and the Willow was sailing towards the reef at a lively clip. She was a hybrid vessel equipped with both romantic sails and practical engines.
Wantoro paced back and forth in his quarters, shifting his weight rhythmically to compensate for the ocean swells. In the same way, he had to be in sync with events beyond his control: he had to expect that Raaychila would never wake up, to prepare himself for that likely devastation; on the other hand, if she was conscious, as they say, he had to convince her she would wake up, so she wouldn't lose hope. Compensating for his willful son would be even more difficult. Wantoro left his plush quarters, gently closing the door behind him, and walked into the parlor, expecting to find Jeremy and Maren already at attention. The room was empty.
He sat down at the ancient wood table and gazed absently at the nautical scenes carved in panels on the wall, some depicting battles against sea monsters. This political situation was a sea monster, threatening to swallow the peace and stability that the Chikalto family had brought to Watico. Wantoro flipped through a few brown files and then spread them on the table in front of where he anticipated Jeremy would sit.
Finally, Jeremy and Maren entered, each taking a seat at opposite ends of the table.
"Well all right then," began Wantoro. "Mateo will join us later. As you might have guessed, he indulged in too much cake and wine at the birthday party last night and his sea legs are a bit weak." Wantoro smiled at Maren. "Our first order of business isn't a pretty one, I'm afraid to say." Wantoro slid the files down the table to Jeremy. "We'll have to sort this mess out. I think it's best we close―my dear Maren!" Wantoro had noticed her wrist, badly bruised and limp. "How did that happen?" He gestured to her wrist but she only looked away.
"I did it," said Jeremy bluntly.
"You did this?" Wantoro's jaw squared and his brows lowered at his son.
"Yes, I grabbed her wrists and pushed her. Sorry!" yelled Jeremy from across the table. "Didn't mean to. It was a mistake. Considering all we've been through, I think a little slip-up once in a while is excusable.” He crossed his arms defiantly.
Wantoro looked from his son back to Maren, who took in a sharp breath. "I apologize on behalf of my son, Maren. This is unacceptable. Obviously Jeremy needs to suffer the appropriate consequences for his lack of judgment and self-control, only privately, you understand. We can't let this get out. But I will not condone a batterer." Beads of sweat collected on his forehead, and the boat rose sharply with a big wave.
"A batterer? I didn't batter her!" spat Jeremy.
"Jeremy, please." Wantoro faced Maren and spoke quickly. "You know this isn't the first time there's been ... an incident. He's had mental health issues for as long as I can remember, only we've been trying to handle things privately, and well, I guess we should let you in on this since, after all we've gone through, you're like family―"
Jeremy rose from his seat. "I've never battered anyone. And besides, if I did, I was a kid then. I'm an adult now―"
"So much the worse," said Wantoro gravely.
Jeremy threw his arms up and then reclined moodily in his chair.
Maren had a hard time finding her voice. "It's okay, I don't want this to ruin our trip."
Wantoro looked from Jeremy and then to Maren, a little confused. "Well if it's okay at this point, I'd like us to move on." He cleared his throat. "Jeremy, I'm calling off the demon report."
"What?"
"Demon report?" asked Maren, turning to Jeremy.
"Jeremy wants to issue a report on recent encounters with supposed demons. He's been gathering informal accounts and articles in paranormal publications, conducting interviews, and acquiring medical and psychiatric records. And, I might add, not following the legally required procedures in doing so."
“Why would you do that?” asked Maren, bewildered.
"Demons are after me!" Jeremy retorted. “You can't call this off! Lyrna told me. They were looking for me specifically!”
"Your claim is far-fetched, Jeremy, but these are strange times. Even assuming you're right," said Wantoro slowly, keeping a steady eye on Jeremy, “issuing a government report on the supernatural is hardly the way to address the problem. You're liable to cause mass hysteria. And plant suggestions in peoples' minds, which will contaminate the “data” you're trying to gather with a bunch of superstitious nonsense. Or, yet again, you could make us a laughing stock."
"This is the fastest way to go about it! People out there are having real experiences with something we don't understand, and they feel too ashamed to come forward because tyrants like you will just dismiss them as lunatics," retaliated Jeremy. “This is a public safety crisis, and people deserve to know what's going on!”
Wantoro sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Maren, you see I cannot get through to him. Please tell him what people will think."
Maren jumped. She wasn't quite prepared to formally insult her recent assailant. "Well," she began, tracing the wood pattern on the table with her good hand. "The report will surface, and you'll be branded as crazy. Everyone's sort of... expecting something along those lines to come out, because when you were a child..." She struggled to find the words.
"Because when you were a child, Jeremy, you made public on ten occasions that something supernatural targeted you and the press had a field day. The scratching on your window. The poison in your milk. The scaling up the castle wall. The―"
"And I was right, wasn't I? To suspect something."
"Yes."
"And you know what," Jeremy rose from his seat and jabbed his finger at his father, the boat dipping low. "I'm still angry with you. You never listened! I never needed psychiatric treatment, not now and not then! I'm the only one in this Goddamned galaxy who has the knowledge and the power to save it from the coming disaster, whatever it may be, and everyone would do well to follow my instructions to the letter! A prophet is not without honor, except in his own country, and among his kindred, and in his own house." Jeremy threw his demon report on the table. "You know what I need? I need a drink." He stormed out of the room.
Wantoro looked at Maren. "This meeting wasn't quite as productive as I'd planned. I'll be meeting separately with your father in a bit to go over fiel
d reports filed by Ms. Fritz and her team of researchers. We're hoping to find clues as to what, exactly, they've discovered on Earth, and who this Mantel creature is." He massaged his chin. "Jeremy told me that he believes himself to be an angel and that Vordin Chikalto, my ancestor, was an angel, but we don't know what that means, and we don’t know if it’s true. I think he might open up to you more than he does me." Wantoro exhaled as he took in the sight of Maren's mangled wrist. "It may be hard to believe, but he really does think highly of you."
Jeremy Chikalto and Leviathan Island (Book II of The Hazy Souls) Page 5
