Hidden Currents

by Christine Feehan

  Elle's body tensed. "He's coming at us," she warned.

  Her sisters stood with her, shoulder to shoulder, Elle in the middle. She could barely breathe with fear. Far out now she could see the wall of water forming, building into a massive tower. Her throat closed. The rogue wave was coming in fast, a monster, driven by rage and hatred and a savage need to control. Stavros was bent on destroying everyone she loved.

  The air thickened around them, pressure building, the force sucking at them as if trying to draw them into a maelstrom of violence. Libby took a step forward, along with the water receding. Sarah and Abigail both caught at Libby, holding her still while the sand was drawn from under their feet. Yards of water rushed back to join with the oncoming wave. Elle glanced over her shoulder, realizing there was an eerie silence. No one ran. No one tried to save himself. The townspeople stood there, watching the wave gather in strength and speed. They had to know, had to realize that the wave would kill everyone, smash houses and cars and destroy everything in its path.

  Elle couldn't believe that no one moved and then she realized they were looking at her with faith, with complete confidence. They believed in her. They believed in her sisters.

  Stavros! I won't let you. She flung the words at him and raised her arms, stepping deliberately into the surge. She opened her mind to connect with her sisters, melding with them, throwing her fears away because it was now or never. She had to stop Stavros. She had no choice. Everyone was counting on her and he would not destroy her family. He wouldn't take the love of her life from her. And he wouldn't take her friends or her beloved town.

  She felt the power swamp her as she tapped in to the vast supply of energy all around her. The force hit her hard, slamming into her with such vigor she nearly went off her feet, but she stood her ground and faced that wall of water as it gathered more speed and towered a hundred feet in the air. As the wave approached them, it split in two, coming at the beach from either side of that fast-moving current. There was so much vile hatred and rage mixed into the tower of water that she was afraid to meet it with any violence of her own. She didn't know what might happen. She needed something else . . .

  She took a moment to glance at Ilya for help, but he was turned away from her, facing some other threat she didn't see, expecting--believing--that with her sister's help she would keep all of them safe. She saw her mother step up beside Sarah and her aunt Carol beside Abigail and she felt them waiting for her direction. She turned her head one last time to look at the people behind her. She caught sight of a child, blowing bubbles from a miniature container and she quickly turned her head to look at Jackson. His eyes were on her. His mind in hers. He caught her idea and a slow smile softened the edges of his mouth.

  Jackson had inadvertently given her the very tools she needed with his lecture on positive energy. A burst of confidence rushed through her and she felt the instant reaction in the joined minds of her sisters. Elle faced the oncoming wave and a small laugh escaped. Meeting Stavro's attack with violence would only feed him power. She had to give him something else, something he couldn't understand and it was all around her. Not power. Not control. Not even anger or revenge. Friendship. Love. Faith.

  The wave separated, speeding around the current running on the surface of the water back toward Stavros's yacht. Her sisters spread out in a V-shape, with Elle forming the point and they all lifted their hands. Elle began to direct, feeding them all the energy around her, the positive, happy, celebratory energy.

  Just as in chemistry classes from all those years with her teachers frowning at her, Elle began to mix the ingredients needed. Thicken the water, provide warmth, heat bursting up through the bottom as the wave rolled over it, reduce the surface tension of the water, a bit tricky and she lent her mother and aunt a little help. The wave rolled closer but now it was superheated and much thicker, the composition already changed. She could see the blossoming colors, like an iridescent rainbow rolling through the water. And then Hannah and Elle provided the fierce wind, stepping together, hands up, grinning at one another like two children, agitating the mixture, blowing hard, and the two waves began to break apart.

  Large spheres rose into the sky, filling the open spaces so that for a few moments the blue was blotted out and there was only a canopy of large, shiny bubbles, a myriad of colors shining through the translucent spheres. Behind her she could hear the laughter and applause, as if everyone thought this was an amazing part of the celebration, thousands of bubbles floating over the sea, back toward the horizon, the rush of warm air carrying the joyful mood of their celebration across the ocean.

  Elle staggered and Jackson was there, his arm around her to steady her, kissing the side of her face, love pouring over and into her. Weak, she clung to him, looking over his shoulder at her brother-in-law. Laughter and conversation poured all around her as the music started up and children ran up and down the beach as if mountainous waves and thousands of bubbles were an everyday occurrence. None of them seemed to notice the rip current going from shore out to sea increasing in strength, the kelp lying flat now as pressure from Stavros sucked the water back toward him for another try.

  Ilya closed his eyes briefly and beneath the water a small seal burst on the continental shelf, ejecting methane into the fast-moving current. The rapid stream carried the methane bubbles back with it. He concentrated on pushing the riptide under the yacht so that the power and energy Gratsos was generating took his boat farther out to sea in spite of the anchor. The Greek was forced to abandon building another wave for just a few moments in order to stop his yacht from being carried away.

  Stavros stood at the front of his opulent yacht, hands on the railing facing the shore where the celebration continued as if he were nothing at all. Nothing. Discounted as a nuisance, not a formidable opponent, a man to be reckoned with. She was mocking him with her bubbles, laughing at him, making him look weak. It was a slap in the face, an insult not to be forgiven. She had dismissed him, hadn't taken him seriously, but she would learn, she would know, just before he destroyed everything that mattered to her, how powerful he really was. His face was burned from the backlash of Elle's first psychic retaliation, unexpected and shocking, the pain still excruciating. And he could barely walk, every step agony. He couldn't be with a woman for a long time, and she was going to pay for her betrayal--letting another man touch her body that belonged to him--everyone she loved was going to die.

  The tiny methane bubbles frothed and agitated the water surrounding the boat the moment Gratsos stopped feeding the hidden current. The yacht staggered, shuddered and abruptly plummeted as if into a hole, sinking in one long drop. There was no time to do anything, his crew diving into the ocean around him and sinking as well in spite of kicking strongly. He tried frantically to swim to the surface, but he couldn't get his body moving in an upward motion.

  From the corner of his eye he saw his bodyguard drop deeper, obviously disoriented, swimming in the wrong direction yards from him, going under and away and then Sid disappeared in the darkness. Around him, his crew seemed suspended in the water, most already motionless, a couple struggling feebly in the cold and dark.

  Stavros fought, kicking and pulling with his hands, trying to go up. The cold seeped into his very bones, as if the water soaked into him, became part of him. He held his breath, lungs burning. He was Stavros Gratsos. He owned the world. No one, nothing could oppose him, certainly not some worthless woman. He commanded the ocean, yet he couldn't drag water through his hands. He had to take a breath. He shook his head, feeling as if he might explode with the need for air. Frantic now, he opened his mouth to scream and took in nothing but water.

  The residents of Sea Haven looked out to sea and saw what appeared to be phosphorescent lights dancing beneath the water. Often when seals stirred up the ocean floor, the phosphorescent colors of red and green and yellow would glow through the water. In the distance, the fog dissipated as if it had never been and the lights in the sky danced with the rhythm of the m
usic. They turned back to their celebration, crowding around the couples, insisting on dancing.

  Elle frowned and looked at her sisters. "I don't feel him, do you? I don't feel a threat at all." She turned to Jackson and followed his gaze, first to Ilya, whom she caught nodding, and then to Damon, who just grinned and winked at her.

  "What have you done?" she asked suspiciously.

  "Kiss me, wife," Jackson said, drawing her back into his arms. "This dress, bikini and sarong, whatever you call it, is driving me crazy. We'll have to go home soon."

  20

  THE gate stood open, welcoming them home. Jackson lifted Elle into his arms and followed the path of rose petals strewn along the way leading up to their house--the Drake family home. Elle's parents had officially turned over the estate and Drake legacy to them, looking very happy as they kissed their youngest daughter good-bye.

  Each stepping stone vibrated beneath Jackson's tread, the symbols blazing with light as he cradled his wife in his arms and put his foot on the stones. He kissed her every other step he took, savoring her soft, willing mouth and the taste of passion and love combined. Her soft laughter floated around them, teasing his senses.

  "Look, baby," Jackson said, "toward the sea."

  Elle turned her head and looked out over the deep blue water. Dolphins performed a water ballet to the song of the whales, leaping and twisting and somersaulting at spectacular speeds. She gasped and held him tighter.

  "They're welcoming us to our home."

  "I believe they are," he agreed.

  The wedding celebration had lasted long into the night. Elle felt like a princess, dancing the night away with her prince. Stars scattered across the sky like sparkling diamonds, and she held out her hand to study the radiance on her finger. "Look at that. It's so beautiful, Jackson. How did you think of it in the middle of everything else?"

  "We couldn't get married without a ring," he said and kissed the corner of her mouth. "I had it made months ago."

  "I love it."

  He stepped onto the porch and frowned, turning around, still holding Elle high against his chest. Her long gown shimmered in the moonlight as he twisted around. "The deck looks a little different. When did they change it? There wasn't an overhang before, and it wraps all the way around the house, but I can't tell what's new and what's old. It all blends seamlessly."

  She nuzzled his shoulder. "It looks like the deck you built at your house."

  He stood for a moment longer, studying the deck, trying to figure out how the new wood appeared aged, as if it had been there for years. He felt Elle shiver in the cool night breeze and he turned back to the house. The front door opened, as if by an unseen hand, spilling light onto the porch. The front room should have been dark and cold, but warmth seeped out, enveloping them, the scent of cinnamon and apple spice drifting with the heat.

  He carried Elle to the threshold and looked inside. The front room was transformed. Hardwood floors and high, cathedral ceilings gave the house the look of the one he'd designed. The large rock fireplace was still there with an ornate glass screen around it, the symbols glowing various colors from the flames dancing behind it.

  "When did your family do this? I was just here." He looked down at the large mosaic in the entryway. The tiles danced with light, throwing a multitude of stars on the ceiling. Tiny little sparks leapt and crackled in the air, a mini-fireworks display overhead. He hesitated, leaning close to her ear. "Baby, I've got to tell you, this house is freaky. I think it's alive."

  She turned her face up to kiss him. "It's just welcoming the new generation. It will settle down as soon as we step inside."

  "You're certain?"

  She laughed. "Take the step. You already married me and changed your name around for me. You may as well go all the way and accept the house, too. I noticed it's already been rearranged to your preferences."

  He took possession of her mouth, maybe gathering courage, he didn't know, or it could have been the joy rising like champagne bubbles in his blood. She was beautiful. And she was home. She was his. "You're my preference," he stated and stepped across the threshold.

  The tiles glittered, throwing off a purple-pink hue, but she was right, the moment his foot touched the floor, the house was just that--a house. No, it was home. It smelled like home and comfort, a haven for them.

  He kissed her again. "We need a bed."

  "This minute?" She nuzzled his neck, smiling at the urgency in his voice.

  "Right this minute," he insisted.

  Laughing, Elle started to point up the stairs to her old, childhood bedroom, to the floor where seven bedrooms waited to be occupied, and then realized the master bedroom was now theirs. She inhaled sharply and pressed closer to him, the enormity of their legacy swamping her.

  "We'll be fine," he whispered, following the direction in her mind.

  He started down the wide hall, frowning a little, thinking even that seemed wider with higher ceilings. Doors stood open and as he passed one, he caught sight of a brand-new baby grand piano. Abruptly he stopped in the doorway. Jackson slowly allowed Elle's bare feet to drop gently to the floor. He circled her waist with one arm, looking around the room in amazement.

  "Look at this. A music room." He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping upward toward the ceiling and all around. The room was built with acoustic tiles, obviously soundproofed. Again, a spacious room with only two wide, comfortable chairs and a thick carpet. Candles adorned shelves and the gas fireplace was built into the wall, almost an exact duplicate of his sanctuary. But the piano . . . He went over to it almost afraid to touch it. "This is extraordinary."

  "Each of my sisters left us a gift. This is from Joley."

  He shook his head. "This is too much."

  She took his hand. "You'll need this room for solace, we both will. There will be times we'll need to shut out the rest of the world and just find peace. Joley gave that to us."

  "I'll never be able to repay her."

  "We're giving the Drake family the next generation, Jackson. Each of my sisters is contributing to our children."

  The concept was almost more than he could understand, the way the sisters felt about one another, tied so closely together, giving so freely to one another without any thought of return.

  Smiling, Elle tugged at his hand. "Come on. Let's see what our wedding gifts are."

  Jackson was almost afraid to look after seeing the piano. They peeked into another room, this one quite massive, and discovered a library, floor-to-ceiling books with a rolling ladder that ran along all four walls. High-backed plush armchairs with small tables between each set provided cozy places to read, the lighting as perfect as Kate could get it for them and their children. There were reference books, classics, a foreign language section, every kind of fiction with Kate's books prominent on a shelf.

  "She signed them," Jackson said, slipping one back onto the shelf. "And there's an entire section of children's books as well as parenting books." He flashed a grin. "I'll bet she had me in mind when she selected those."

  "Some of these are very rare," Elle said. "This is so Kate."

  The next room had to be from Sarah. High-tech gadgets of every kind were positioned throughout the room. Advanced computer systems, weather stations, interactive stations, and gaming were set up throughout the room. Jackson leaned over one item. "This is for you. A pretty little anklet bracelet so I know where you are at all times."

  Her eyebrow shot up. "Really? Because I'm certain my sister wanted me to keep track of you."

  "I don't know what half these things are," Jackson admitted.

  "Oh, don't worry, Sarah and Damon are certain to teach us," Elle pointed out. "Both are big on security and I'm betting . . ." She crossed the room to open the door to a much smaller room. It refused to open until she pressed her palm over the screen. Inside were weapons. Lots of weapons. Elle stood back so Jackson could peer in, whistling softly, a wide smile on his face.

  "Now I feel I'm home."

&nbs
p; She pushed open another door. This one was far different, made of steel, fitting snugly into the frame. She looked around. Beds. Chairs. Shelves. Well-stocked first-aid kits. Bottled water. Candles. She looked at him. "What is this?"

  "A panic room. I can shove you and the girls inside and know you're safe."

  Elle, still wrapped tightly in his mind, felt that last bit of tension leave him. She put her hand on his arm. "You've been worried."

  He shrugged. "You're my life, Elle. When we have our children, they'll be included in that circle and I'm not a man to lose everything. I want you as safe as possible."

  "So you don't think three protection dogs, a room filled with weapons, a panic room and house that eats people isn't just a little overkill?"

  He gathered her up, pulling her to him. "I think we'll need three dogs, a room filled with weapons, a panic room and a house that eats people the moment we have our first daughter."

  She laughed. "You're so crazy."

  "So which sister gave you the panic room?"

  "Libby. No doubt about it. She'd want us all safe at all times. And did you notice all the first-aid equipment in there? Definitely Libby. We've got a lifetime supply of Band-Aids."

  He laughed and moved her down the hall, his body making urgent demands. "How do we take that top off without ruining it?" He had been looking at the temptation of that bare expanse of soft skin all evening. His hands were already sliding over the lace, unhooking and opening the delicate material so that when she stood in the doorway of the room closest to the master bedroom, he could cup the soft weight of her breasts in his hands.

  Jackson put his chin on Elle's shoulder, peering into the nursery. He knew immediately this had to be Hannah's gift to them. Stars spun on the ceiling. The room looked celestial, a mural painted on all four walls. Symbols of protection were woven into the theme of the universe, the room in soothing colors, designed to bring peace.

  "I want to make a baby with you right now." He bit the lobe of her ear, his whisper wicked. "We can try and try until we get it right. We need practice, Elle."

  "Hmm," she mused, turning her head, one arm going back over her shoulder to cradle his head so she could kiss him. "I don't think you have too much of a problem in that department."