Deep Betrayal

chapter 10

DEFIANCE



After three days’ absence, Dad made it back in time to go to Mass with us, but it wasn’t until we got home from church that Calder knocked on our door.

“Good morning, Lancelot,” I said, thinking it would at least get a smile out of him, but no such luck. Looked like our Lady of Shalott days were behind us.

He dropped his gaze once more to the beach-glass pendant around my neck and asked if Dad was ready to go.

“What do you mean go? You just got back. I’ve barely seen you!”

“This is important,” he said. “Jason insisted on coming back to go to church with you, but I’m teaching him how to navigate the lake today. You wouldn’t want him to get lost out there, would you?”

“I’ll buy him a compass.”

“You’re a riot, Lil.”

“I thought you wanted to protect me,” I said, playing the only card I had. “How are you going to pull that off when you’re miles away?” Calder pulled back, shaming me with a disappointed look.

“Are you planning on doing any more secret negotiations with your aunties?”

“Of course not,” I said.

“Planning another virgin sacrifice?”

I crossed my arms. “No.”

“Then you’ll be perfectly safe until we get back.” He lifted my chin and tapped the end of my nose.

Dad came down the stairs, pulling a T-shirt over his head. “Tell your mom I’ll be in Duluth for most of the day.” Then he ran out the door, and I had to call him back.

“Maybe you should at least make it look good, Dad. Take the car and park it somewhere.” I tossed him his car keys. “It’ll be hard to believe you’re in Duluth with the car sitting in the driveway.”

“Good call, Lily. You’re a natural at this.”

Yeah, right, I thought. Natural what? And then they were gone, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

A half hour later, Mom came out of her bedroom, changed into painting clothes. “Where’s your dad?” she asked.

“He said he was going to Duluth.”

“Duluth? Did he say anything about taking Sophie to her Girl Scout retreat?”

“No.”

Mom groaned and fished her cell out of her purse. She dialed Dad’s number, and his cell phone rang in the kitchen.

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “He’s been so spacey lately.” Then she was calling around for a ride for Sophie.

I grabbed an apple and headed down to the water. I was still in the yard … practically. I wasn’t breaking any rules … not really. Technically, I was staying close to home, but halfway across the yard I stopped.

A dark spot bobbed on the water. A head? No, only a loon. I was being paranoid. But it scared me enough that Calder’s warning echoed in my head. “I should go back to the house,” I whispered to myself. I didn’t want to make Calder mad.

But the water looked so inviting. Intoxicating. I rocked back and forth from my heels to the balls of my feet. This was stupid. I should listen to Calder. But, as melodramatic as it sounds, the lake called to me.

My pendant hung heavy and hot against my chest. The spot of heat spread through my skin to my heart, drawing me closer to the water as if reeling me in. I struggled to remember why I was supposed to stay on land. My head and my heart felt detached from each other.

Maybe I’ll dip my toes. That was hardly dangerous. Then I’d be a good girl and go back to the house. Calder and Dad would never have to know.

I hiked up my long skirt and wetted my toes on the sandy shore. After a few seconds, I waded in—just up to my shins—then sat down on the soft sand. I leaned back, letting the cold water break across my thighs, flexing and curling my toes, digging my heels into the sand.

Closing my eyes, I imagined the feel of my legs blending into one. I could almost feel the heat, the burn, the knitting of bones. Somewhere out there, Calder and Dad were circling sunken ships, sweeping underwater sand dunes. But here on the beach it was only me and my imagination, and if I closed my eyes, it was almost as good. I snorted. Yeah, right.

The sound of a boat engine broke through the daydream, and I wish I could say I was surprised to see Jack out in the Sun Sport. The boat was close enough for me to see the light glinting off his mirrored sunglasses. If he saw me, he didn’t acknowledge it. The ever-present binoculars hung around his neck.

I wondered when Pavati would make good on her promise from last May to visit Jack and, when she did, if he would call a truce. It was painful to watch him suffer like this. Even if Pavati didn’t want to be with him anymore, the least she could do was tell him why.

I took off my skirt and inched out farther. I lay down flat, letting my hair fan out around me. The waterline pulsed at my temples. Metallic humming filled my ears, numbing my brain. I quoted T. S. Eliot under my breath.

“Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table.”

I wasn’t surprised not to be cold. What I couldn’t get over was the sensation of heat. It started in my toes, and then the soft spot behind my knees. My thighs burned as if I’d climbed a hundred stairs. And then there were whispers.

I turned over onto my belly and pulled myself out deeper with my hands flat on the sand until the ground dropped off below me, and I was swimming. I breached, gulping at the air, then dove, moving my body like a dolphin, savoring the oxygen like an expensive delicacy.

“To wonder, ‘Do I dare?’ and, ‘Do I dare?’ ”

Did I dare to discover what my birthright could mean? When I came up for air—somewhat disappointed that I still required it—I was surprised by how far out I’d gone. It was way beyond what I could justify to Calder, so I quickly tucked and rolled in a somersault, turning back for shore, swimming underwater.

Small, delicate whispers, like feathers, brushed against each other, slipping together, blending into the next. I tried to listen harder as I quieted my thoughts and disturbed the water as little as possible. Now and then, if the sounds were hard or crisp—a keh or a teh, sometimes a deh—I could almost make out a whole word. I imagined they were calling, whispering, “Come to me.” But then the whisper was a shout. Then the shout was a screech.

I broke through the surface, flinging water from my hair, and Maris was rising out of the water, staring down at me, violence in her silver eyes, her face radiant with fury.

She dove, and bone-cold fingers clamped down on my ankles, pulling me deeper. My body bucked and twisted as I tried to climb my way back toward the shore. I had been here before, locked in a mermaid’s embrace. But being there by choice was so much different than now. I grabbed Maris’s corn-silk hair and pulled. I slashed at her face. For a second, she loosened her grip, and I kicked furiously for the surface, only to get pulled back down.

And then there was another set of arms, and I was being yanked apart. My skin stretched and joints popped. I thought I might transform, that perhaps the adrenaline of the moment would be the catalyst for a metamorphosis. But today was not the day.

I was being torn in two—fought over by two emotionally ravenous creatures tearing me apart, like lions fighting over prey. I’d heard Calder talk about the mermaid’s need for human energy. Absorption, he’d called it. It always sounded so much more gentle than this.

My mind was blank—just a buzzing sound. I couldn’t think what to do or where to go or how to do any of it if I could. And then one thought came screaming into my head: Stop!

There was great jerk and thrust and one set of arms let go. I rushed for the surface. Gasping, I crawled through the water, frantically kicking at whatever creature was still close.

The screeching sound was now in the air, along with another voice, grim and unforgiving.

“Maris,” Calder said, his voice stern with warning, his arms stretched wide as if he could defend the whole lakeshore, his muscles tense and flexing. He must have heard me open my mouth to speak, because he shushed me with a backward flick of his hand.

“Why is she alive?” Maris asked, her voice like a rake scraping my ears.

Pavati emerged from the water, perfectly formed, more beautiful than I remembered.

“And Hancock lives, too?” Maris asked.

“Don’t do this,” Calder said. Long red gouges ran down his arms and back where she had torn his skin. Blood dripped from the wounds.

Behind him, I dragged oxygen from the air in ragged breaths. I tried to swim backward, to reclaim the shore. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered Calder saying they wouldn’t kill on land. But I couldn’t make any progress; my fingers could not find purchase.

“You know Jason is one of us,” Calder continued. His words were a calming rhythm. “Now he knows it, too.”

Maris sneered at Calder’s familiarity with the man who had once been their target. “A little too late to do us any good. I will have my justice.” Her glaring gaze pierced me to the core.

“You have no right to retribution,” Calder said. “Lily paid her father’s price. She fulfilled the promise.”

“How can you say that?” shrieked Maris, the whites of her eyes showing all around the irises. Pavati laid her hand on Maris’s shoulder, but Maris snarled and Pavati withdrew.

Calder reached toward Maris, palms out. “She promised to sacrifice herself to Tallulah in her father’s place. She didn’t back out. You saw that much for yourself. The debt is satisfied.”

A sharp slap of her tail on the water might as well have been a slap across the face. She said, “I don’t see it like that.”

Pavati drifted closer, smoothly, as if being pulled on a line.

Calder continued with his argument. “Lily did all she could do when she jumped. It’s not her fault she lived.”

“Let me speak to Tallulah. I want to hear her side,” Maris demanded.

Calder’s voice dropped an octave. “You can’t.”

Maris froze for just a second, the waves sloshing against her shoulders. “She isn’t with you?”

“No,” Calder said.

“She followed you when you left. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. What did you say to her?”

“Nothing,” he said.

Pavati tried again to enter the conversation. Once again, she laid her hand gently on Maris’s shoulder. “You might not be able to hear his thoughts, but read our dear brother’s face. Don’t you see it?”

Maris studied Calder, and my heart trembled as she learned the truth. His face was always so easy to read. Calder couldn’t look Maris in the eye. Grief weighted his eyes, pulled at the corners of his mouth. When he tried to speak, nothing came out.

“No,” Maris said. “I don’t believe it.”

“A man,” Calder said, doing his best to protect Jack from the penance they would demand. “With a gun. He must have thought he was helping.”

Maris threw her head back and howled; the sound filled the sky, ruffled the trees. She covered her face, and then wrenched handfuls of hair from her head. I had a strange yearning to comfort her.

“A man with a gun?” Pavati asked. “Took quite a chance, didn’t he? He could have shot the girl by mistake.”

That had never occurred to me. I had already been so close to death, a bullet was nothing. What had Jack been thinking? Or hadn’t he cared?

Maris wailed. The sound would have broken anyone’s heart. It was the wind in the trees, the crash of breakers on the rocks, the cry of the gulls. It was all that wound into one.

She pointed at me, saying, “This is your fault. Why is my family shrinking while the Hancocks all remain?”

“I—”

Calder quieted me again with a sharp twitch of his head.

“Watch your back,” Maris said. “You will pay. You will all pay.” Then she shot from the water, arching with a black flash of her tail, and was gone.

“Pavati,” Calder said. “Tell her. Convince her I’m right. The debt has been paid.”

Pavati didn’t respond. She slinked into the water, her eyes never leaving Calder’s face.

When she was gone, Calder didn’t say a word to me. He merely wrapped an arm around my body and swam me back to shore.

“I can explain,” I said.

He stared straight ahead, his full lips drawn thin and tight. “I doubt it” was all he said.