Hidden Currents

by Christine Feehan

  Mrs. Darden nodded. "We had a candle lit in the window, too. And we prayed for you, for your safe return."

  "Thank you," Elle said. "Everyone's been so kind."

  "If there's anything we can do for you, Elle," Mr. Darden said. "Just let us know. Marie makes incredible chicken soup."

  Mrs. Darden nodded, her face brightening. "What a wonderful idea, Clyde. I'll bring some by for you, Elle, for both of you."

  "We'd love that," Jackson said before Elle could respond. "Your soup saved the day for me when I was getting that cold."

  Elle looked up at his face, but he was carefully avoiding her gaze. Now she knew who did Jackson's gardening for him. No wonder he had such a beautiful yard with Mr. Darden at the helm. The man could grow anything anywhere and it would blossom and thrive.

  Mrs. Darden beamed. "You're such a sweet boy, Jackson. Thank you for the cord of wood. It really helped us when the electricity went out."

  Jackson frowned. "I thought you had the generator."

  The Dardens exchanged a long look. "I should have told you," Mr. Darden said, "but you were so worried about our Elle. Something went wrong with it and it went out completely in that last storm."

  Mrs. Darden patted Jackson's arm. "We knew you'd worry about us, so we didn't tell you. The fireplace kept us warm enough."

  "How did you cook?"

  "We ate sandwiches, dear," Mrs. Darden said. "The electricity was only off for a couple of days."

  "Three days," Jackson corrected. "I'll come by later and take a look at the generator."

  "If you insist," Mr. Darden said. "And while you're there, a board needs replacing on the stairs. Mrs. Darden nearly fell through it the other day."

  "On the back stairs?" Jackson sounded stern. "I told you those stairs had to be replaced and you told me Lance was going to do it."

  "Lance hasn't gotten around to it," Mrs. Darden said. "We asked him right after you told us, but he keeps pushing the date back. I think he may be ill."

  Elle knew that was code for Lance having fallen off the wagon. He was a binge drinker and went months without drinking, but then would stay drunk for weeks on end.

  "I'll take care of it," Jackson said. "Next time call me right away. You can't take chances with falling."

  Mr. Darden nodded. "In the old days, I would have done it myself."

  "Oh yes, dear," Mrs. Darden agreed, looking up at her husband with shining eyes. "You always did the household repairs. Even the roof," she explained proudly.

  "Well there's no need for that," Jackson said. "Marie always supplies me with soup and takes care of me when I'm sick. I can do something in return. That way I don't feel bad that she has to come by and feed me."

  "Now, Jackson," Mrs. Darden scolded, as if he was a young boy. "You're hardly ever ill and I don't mind at all."

  Bomber suddenly gave a short bark, his body going still, facing out toward the sea. Goose bumps rose on Elle's arms as she saw the dog's ears go forward and his eyes focus beyond the waves. Slowly, afraid to look, she turned her head. Jackson had already moved, sliding his body easily between her and the sea. He caught Mrs. Darden's elbow and began urging her to walk up toward the dunes. The wind shifted and blew toward them. Out at sea, the fog had begun to gather, a dark gray mass that thickened as she watched it.

  "Jackson."

  "I see it, baby. Don't panic on me."

  "What's wrong, Jackson?" Mr. Darden asked, surprising Elle again. He glanced at the dog, at Elle's pale face and then out to the sea. "I don't like the look of that fog."

  He didn't look upset, but rather protective, falling in step on the other side of her, as if he, too, was shielding her from the sea. The seagulls overhead screamed. Out in the waves, the two dolphins leapt in the air and somersaulted, smacking the water hard to draw attention. Both rose up on their tales, speeding backward and whistling in agitation before plunging back beneath the water.

  "Where's your car, Clyde?" Jackson asked.

  Mr. Darden glanced toward the road. "About a quarter mile back. It was such a lovely day we thought we'd walk to your house and say hello to Elle and then walk back."

  "We brought you a card, dear," Mrs. Darden added.

  "Thank you," Elle said, trying not to sound nervous. "That was so thoughtful of you."

  "Maybe we should all just get home," Jackson said, sounding like the authoritative deputy. "The fog can get pretty bad and I'd rather you were safe. You know how thick it can get and I wouldn't want you driving in it."

  "Do you think it's going to get that bad?" Mrs. Darden asked, looking out at the sea, obviously disappointed that the weather might spoil her visit. "I looked at the forecast and it didn't say fog."

  "Elle needs to rest anyway. I'll bring her with me when I come to look at the generator," he added.

  The couple beamed and quickly agreed. Jackson watched them until they were safely around the bend and out of sight before he urged Bomber and Elle toward the house.

  13

  THE fog stayed where it had gathered a distance offshore for most of the evening. It was dark and just hung in the sky like a heavy pall in spite of the wind picking up. Jackson kept Elle indoors, forcing her to play cards with him and crowing when he thoroughly trounced her.

  "I thought you were supposed to be so good at this," he teased.

  "Yeah, well, I'm not a professional card shark. Sheesh. What did you do? Go to school for this? No one wins every single hand at gin rummy."

  "I do," he said with a little smirk. "I made a lot of money playing most card games in the army."

  "And now you own a grocery store."

  He scowled at her. "You'd better not mention that to anyone. Or bring it up again. It's embarrassing. And Inez just won't stop with the groceries. She brings me all sorts of things." He sounded exasperated. "I tell her not to, but she doesn't listen. I can't eat all that food."

  "What do you do with it?"

  He shrugged, his scowl deepening. "I don't know."

  Her eyebrow shot up and amusement crept into her expression. "Does it find its way to the Dardens?"

  "Elle," he said her name in warning, jumped up and busied himself pouring them both a cup of tea. Adding milk, he carried a small tray of cookies to the table and set them in front of her.

  "You make cookies, too? Is there anything you don't do?"

  Another faint flush spread up his neck as he seated himself opposite her. "I didn't make the damn things. But they're good so eat them. You're still too thin."

  "I'm just right." But she took a cookie anyway. "These are great. Who did make them?"

  He sighed. "Marie did."

  Elle's grin widened. "With the ingredients you brought her from the groceries Inez brings you? You lead a very complicated life, don't you?"

  "I'm a very complicated man." He took a cautious sip of tea and tried to look casual.

  Elle burst out laughing. "You've got this entire circle of people you look after. All this time, all of us thought you were such a loner, but you're surrounded by people."

  His scowl was back. "I'm a deputy. I'm supposed to help people when they need it."

  "I thought your job was to shoot bad guys."

  "Well, that, too. Technically, I'm supposed to arrest them. Jonas frowns on us shooting people, but once in a while, just to stay in practice . . ."

  She laughed again, amazed that he could make her do so when the fog hung heavy out the window and the dog paced restlessly up and down, keeping a wary eye on the fog. Bomber could sense the psychic energy looking for a target, and yet Jackson had still managed to distract her. She leaned across the table. "How in the world did you get so involved with these people?"

  He shrugged. "People rarely check on the elderly in bad weather and long cold spells. Sometimes they don't have heat or they can't drive their cars to get to the store, or they don't have a car and they can't walk. I just like to check on them and make certain everything is going fine for them. No big deal."

  She sat back, rega
rding him with shining eyes. Jackson looked away from her. "Don't look at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Like I'm a fucking saint, Elle. I'm not."

  "Don't worry, until you stop using the 'F' word, no one is going to mistake you for a saint."

  He grinned at her. "You get that little schoolmarm tone in your voice whenever you scold me."

  "You like it," she said.

  "It's cute."

  She made a face at him. "Just for that I'm telling my sisters you're 'good-deed Jackson.' They'll never let you hear the end of it."

  He groaned. "You wouldn't dare."

  The smile faded from Elle's face. She froze, turning her head in the direction of the Drake house. She suddenly leapt to her feet, nearly knocking over her teacup. Jackson, uncertain what was happening, rose to his feet as well, reaching for the gun in his holdout holster. Elle's face had gone pale and her eyes were enormous. She looked wildly around the house and then started for the door.

  Jackson was there before her, inserting his large, immovable frame between her and the exit. "Talk to me, baby. What's wrong?"

  "I don't know." She frowned and shoved a hand over her silky hair in agitation, her expression far away, eyes a little fey. "Abbey. She's upset. She's heading into . . ." She looked over his shoulder toward the spreading gray mass, now closer to shore. "That."

  "Are you certain?"

  Her gaze came back to his face and this time she looked annoyed. "Of course I'm certain. She's my sister. We're all tied together. Can't you feel her, too? Through me?"

  Jackson allowed himself further into Elle's mind and Abigail's alarm was wrenching. She was in a near state of panic. The phone jarred both of them. "Get it, Elle."

  "But Abbey may need me."

  "Get the phone. I'll go to Abbey." He already knew exactly what Abigail was doing and no way was he allowing Elle anywhere near the sea. "That will be Aleksandr. Tell him to get over here now and guard your ass. He was working out near Fort Bragg." He gave her a small shove toward the phone and sprinted for his bedroom.

  When he returned minutes later, he was in his wet suit, flippers in hand, his scuba gear and diving belt on his shoulder. "I want you in the house. Do you understand me? You stay inside with the door closed and the dog with you. Swear it to me, Elle, or I don't go."

  "But I should--"

  "Swear it to me, damn it," he said, cutting her off.

  Abigail's distress increased and both of them could see her now. She flashed past the house running toward the ocean.

  "I won't leave the house, I promise. Help her, Jackson."

  Jackson caught the nape of her neck, kissed her hard and turned and ran outside. "Abbey, wait. I'm getting the boat. It will take less time."

  Abbey was at the water's edge, belting on her tank. "Hurry, Jackson. Boscoe's caught in a net, or something. He's going to drown."

  Jackson leapt into his old truck and fired up the engine. He launched the dory into the surf within minutes. Abbey was in tears, looking out to sea. The engine started on the second pull and they sped off.

  "Thank you. I wasn't certain how I'd get back. He's a distance out."

  He didn't give her a lecture. She'd been around the sea all of her life. It was growing dark. The wind had picked up and even with the Drakes' help, she couldn't fight a stormy sea at night. Not to mention, and he wasn't thrilled with the idea, the bigger predators that came out this time of night to feed.

  The dory cut through the surf, bumping as he increased speed. Abbey looked out toward deeper waters, whistling every now and then. He could barely hear over the engine, but she directed him, following the instructions of Kiwi, the other male bottlenose, as he emitted a series of squeaks and clicks. It was unusual that the male dolphins and their group spent so much time near Sea Haven, as it was common for them to swim up to fifty miles in a day, yet they "hung out" to be close to Abigail.

  He slowed the dory when she signaled to him and turned on the spotlight, directing it into the muddy waters below. "Try to use as little psychic energy as possible, Abbey," he cautioned. "Gratsos is out here, riding in the fog, and he's seeking a target again."

  "I don't care about that. I'm going in."

  "Wait!" He said it sharply, catching her shoulder and holding her in spite of her efforts to somersault into the water. "We go together and we go tied together. The water is going to be very cold, very dark and now, more dangerous than ever, and we have no idea what we're going to find down there." He shoved a webbed harness for her ankle at her. "Put it on."

  "I have a knife already." She touched her belt.

  "Fucking put it on, Abbey. We aren't taking any chances."

  A brief smile flashed at him as Abbey strapped the harness to her leg so the knife fit snugly. "You have such a foul mouth, Jackson. Wait until all your little girls talk like that." She accepted the end of the six foot length of rope and clipped it to her belt so they were loosely tied together.

  Kiwi leapt from the water, dousing them both, his head bobbing as he scolded Abbey, urging her to hurry. His body slammed back into the water and he circled the boat.

  Jackson thrust a light into her hand, watched as she put in her mouthpiece and motioned to her to go in. He followed right behind her. The dolphin slipped close, brushing their bodies once, twice and then angled so Abbey could reach out and catch his fin. He dove, taking her with him. Jackson felt the pull of the rope and swam down, following. The dolphin was incredibly strong and fast, dragging them both through the sea, deeper and deeper.

  It was dark and the beam from their lights barely cut through the murky water. The world was cold and foreign, instead of the way Jackson usually saw it when he dove. There was a feeling of dread, of danger building and twice Abbey looked back at him and he knew she was feeling it as well. Jackson allowed the dolphin to do the work, looking around below and above, doing his best to provide a guardian for Abigail in the hopes of seeing anything deadly coming before it actually reached them.

  The dolphin swam out from under Abbey abruptly and circled a struggling mass. Boscoe, tangled in a fisherman's net, was bleeding from his nose and fins as he fought to free himself. Jackson pulled his knife out while Abbey put her hands on the dolphin, calming him.

  He felt a small surge of energy in the water, almost electric, as she communicated with the animal and knew they were in real trouble now. By using psychic energy to keep the dolphin calm while he slashed and cut through the thick netting, she was calling down another psychic attack on them. He had no idea what form it would take, but they were extremely vulnerable there in the cold ocean at night. Abbey began helping him, although it took a great deal of strength to cut through the netting. They circled the dolphin as fast as possible, pulling the net away from him as they went.

  It seemed to take a long time--too long--with the dark water surrounding them and the dolphin occasionally thrashing out of desperation in spite of Abigail's reassurances. There was no telling how long he'd been fighting and he was exhausted and needed air. The moment he was free, he surged toward the surface, Kiwi abandoning them to help Boscoe. Jackson kept the knife in his hand and signaled to Abigail to go to the surface.

  She nodded and began to swim, kicking strongly in an effort to hurry. Jackson stayed right behind her, and he felt the first tug on his body, a powerful flow of water backwashing against the tide. Swearing to himself, he used his strength to try to keep them going in the direction they wanted--up--but the wash of water caught them both and tumbled them much like a spinning washing machine.

  Jackson flung out his arms in an effort to snag Abigail and bring her in close to him, to help protect her from the debris churning with them, but he could only feel her suit as she tumbled beneath him toward the sea floor. His body smashed against the ocean floor. He rolled over and over, his tank scraping, the force of the water trying to strip his body of all gear. He made himself relax, letting the water take him, feeling the pull of the rope anchoring him to Abigail. He knew wi
th the force of the turbulence, the rope could snap.

  Jackson pushed off the bottom and began to swim perpendicular to the shore. It was difficult to figure out exactly where he was when he'd been spinning and tumbling. The rope stretched taut and he applied a little pressure, knowing Abbey was far more familiar with the sea and its dangers than most people. She was a marine biologist and spent a great deal of her time underwater. There wouldn't be any panicking for Abigail.

  He felt the rope slacken and immediately she brushed his leg, indicating she was swimming with him. They should have been able to pull out of the undertow, but another powerful backwash caught them again. Jackson had the impression of a bowler striking, using the hidden current to take them down and under. They rolled together this time, Jackson and Abigail gripping each other's arms and thighs to try to lessen the damage. Again he pushed off the floor, using the strength of his legs. There were sometimes rip currents aplenty along the northern coastline, but not this--not an undertow. Gratsos had attacked.

  Something large and heavy bumped them. He drew away, but Abigail reached out eagerly. He realized the dolphin was back and she'd seized the fin. Kiwi used his powerful body to drag them out of the undertow and back up toward the surface. The water sucked at them for a moment and then they were swimming free.

  It seemed to take forever to rise to the surface. When he broke through the water and looked around, the dory was a good distance away and the wind had kicked up the waves to several feet high. They began to swim in the trough between waves. Something brushed his hand as he pulled on a downstroke. Abigail gasped.

  "Look out, Jackson. Oh my God. Stay still for a moment."

  He did so, swiveling around, trying to make out what had upset her. All around them, like a forest of giant mushrooms, jellyfish floated up from the bottom, hundreds of them. He'd never seen them so large. He'd been in the ocean often enough to see wide populations of jellyfish moving through the water, but none like these. The pink mushroom caps were large, like strange monsters of the deep. Tentacles stretched out in the water from so many jellyfish moving together, the long feelers created a forest of toxic limbs reaching for anything unsuspecting in their path.

  "Don't touch the tentacles," Abbey cautioned.

  "How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Jackson demanded, turning around, searching for a way through the dense field. "What are these things?"