Fish Out of Water

chapter Eleven

Guilt and (More) Larceny


Dirtwater Memorial Hospital

There wasn’t much going on when I pushed through the swing doors with Doug over my shoulder, screaming for some morphine. Mary Peterson was staffing reception and she took one look at my face and went ashen. I wondered if maybe I had my crazy eyes on again.

She screamed into the phone for back-up as she helped me unload Doug onto a gurney.

Doug was screaming too, keening like some wounded beast.

They only have junior medical staff at the hospital. They usually call Larry in for back-up from the Coroner’s Office if things get too messy, or else radio for help from Jonesville, the nearest town. But I’d already called ahead, and Larry arrived just as Mary and I were settling Doug on the gurney. Larry is the best doctor I know, and he also had a head start with this stuff.

He whisked Doug off to the little tending area behind reception, Mary in his wake. I started to push through after them, but Larry’s face was firm as he commanded me to wait.

Sweet Ran, I couldn’t believe it. I was beating myself five kinds of black and blue as I waited in the white, white corridors of the Dirtwater Memorial Hospital for them to come back and tell me what was going on.

Doug, sweet Doug. So brave and good, through all his bluff and bluster.

Doug and his dog. Doug and his brownies. Doug and his sister.

I could hear low moaning coming from the other side of the floor. I really needed some more information, and if someone didn’t come and talk to me soon, I was gonna go kick down some doors to get it. I was shit scared for Doug, but I was also worried sick about where whoever did this to him might be headed next. Specifically, I was fretting about my Mom.

I kept thinking about The Link’s words, “you and your Mom”.

And about how they had followed Cleedaline. And me.

I was trying to block the guilt that tasted sweet and sticky in my throat, even though I kept hearing Doug’s words about how when people do bad things, they’re doing them to us all.

I wanted to say to Doug: You’re wrong. This has nothing to do with you, it’s all about Aegira. It wasn’t your fight. I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry.

I’d resolved to go hit Larry up for some intel when he reappeared, looking serious and tired. He’s still so handsome, I thought, as I watched, suddenly paralyzed, as he came towards me. His grey hair adds this distinguished edge to his twinkly face, and watching him like this, I could imagine a thousand duty nurses falling for him every day, on every shift. As inappropriate as it was, I suddenly wondered why he was the only man in town who’d never come calling on Mom. I couldn’t speak as he came to me and picked up my hand, staring into my mute face.

“It’s bad,” he confirmed. “Not as bad as the girl. He’s alive. Though truthfully, Rania, I’m not sure how. Any other man’d be dead. We might still lose him.” Beautiful Larry, not pulling any punches. He knew I’d pull one on him if he did. “He’s in some kind of coma now.”

“What can you do for him?” My stomach lurched sickly at Larry’s words, and a white-hot hole was burning in my vision. I had to work really hard to stay focused. I wanted to go house to house through Aegira, wrench out the inhabitants and beat the truth from them. Because one of them was intent on hurting people I love. As I asked Larry the question, I was shredding a paper cup in my hands, tearing the rim from the lip like it was made of tissue paper.

“Pretty much pain relief only. And he’s in a lot of pain. I’m almost certain we aren’t getting it all. But we’re helping a bit. I have no idea what else to do, and I’m almost certain there’s no science or medicine we’ve got that can fix what’s been done to his ears, and through them, to his brain, to his central nervous system. He’s been fried.”

I tried to swallow the sticky-sweet stuff choking my mouth, and dulling my brain. I knew I couldn’t afford the luxury of being dull right now. I had to get to work, protect the others from this thing, make sure this didn’t happen again. But it was just so damn hard to see, to focus.

I should have a better lead on this by now.

Zorax must be the baddy, he had Imogen’s locket. Which meant if Carragheen really did help him, then Carragheen couldn’t be trusted. By the Goddess Mother, had I just been blinded by instinct, and chemistry? Was Doug lying there, ruined, because I got the hots for some lying merman? I rubbed my face with my hands, roughly, and noticed, for the first time, the tears.

Ran help me, please not Doug. What if I was wrong to end things with him, last year? What if I was meant to be with him all along? What if he was the one from my dreams?

I didn’t have any answers, but the cop in me was already starting to calibrate my plan.

And so far, it was this. I was gonna get these a*sholes, if it was the last thing I did.

“Larry, I’m gonna have to go. I can’t explain…”

“You don’t need to, Rania. Go. Go find these a-holes. I’ll take care of Doug.” He gave me a quick hug, and I could have melted into the solid, reassuring strength of him. “One more thing. I know you probably haven’t thought about this. But we’re gonna need a cover story here. Have you thought about anything to say?”

I shook my head, lost, mute. I didn’t have a clue.

“Okay, well I’m just gonna put it out there that you picked him up from the city, where he was helping out with some new weapons testing stuff, okay? People know he’s into some secret shit. I’ll do it low key, you know, like it’s secret and shouldn’t be passed on. That’ll guarantee everyone knows about it by tomorrow.” He laughed, a dry, humorless sound.

“Thanks Larry,” I shrugged, finally locating my vocal chords.

He smiled thinly and waved at me to go.

I pushed through the doors and looked at Doug’s half-dead van. I was really going to attract way too much attention in that. A low, cross barking reminded me that Benito was still inside the injured wreck. I scanned the parking lot, and saw Mary’s little sedan parked sedately in the “staff only” section. It was a matter of seconds before Benito and I were cruising back into town in it, sending up a tiny prayer to Ran for Mary’s understanding. I knew Larry’d put two and two together and sort out what she needed to get home, but man, I hoped she wasn’t allergic to dog hair. Benito was shedding like there was no tomorrow.

As I burned down the highway, I saw the Children of the Apocalypse gathered mutely by the roadside, dressed in simple white cotton gowns and holding hands and a series of placards. Among the predictable ones — The End is Nigh, Repent etc — was one that caught my eye.

Make it Right, it said.

I headed straight for home, pulling in around back in case Mary had already noticed her girl was missing and sent up the alarm. When I reached the living room, I found Mom sorting through papers in a hurried whirl, and I could tell she was in planning mode. I wondered what was going down.

“Mom, I’m home. Everything okay here?”

She spun in her seat, surprised to see me. Man, she really did need this dog. She doesn’t hear anything when she’s in the zone.

“Ransha, my love. Hello. Yes, all’s fine. But we need to talk.”

I saw her take in the defeat in my face, and maybe some of the fear and rage too. I can never get anything past Mom. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Doug,” I croaked, hurling myself into her arms and spitting out the story and with it all of my pent-up fury and impotence.

She smelled good, and for a few seconds I felt safe, like somehow I’d turned the clock back a few days, and life was as uncomplicated as the Children of the Apocalypse, eating brownies and fretting about the prophecy.

When I was finished, she pulled my face up to hers.

“Listen, Ransha, my brave one,” she started.

“I’m not brave,” I insisted, still sniffling like a little girl.

“Oh, but you are,” she laughed her musical tinkle. “You always were. And I don’t mean your strength. It’s your fighting spirit. When you were five, you ran and told the teacher when the boys were pushing little Janie Mackenzie around in the playground, remember?”

I sniffed again. “After I beat them up.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But you told Mrs Abbott too. To make sure they couldn’t do it again, even if you weren’t there. And you were the one who bound your breasts and outswam all the others, remember? You’ve always fought for people, Ransha. And you know what?”

I shook my head.

“Doug’s like that too. You think this is your battle, because it’s about your home. Because you’re fighting for people you love. Did you ever think that maybe that makes it Doug’s battle too? Because he loves you?”

I was about to disagree violently, when Mom interrupted.

“Now I know you two aren’t that way anymore, but he still loves you. You don’t question him, you just like him. I think he’s been missing that these last few years.”

I shook my head again. How did she know everything?

I started to get what she was saying, but if she thought it was going to stop me blaming myself, hating myself, or seeking cruel revenge, she was wrong.

“You mustn’t think Doug didn’t know what he was doing. He’d seen it firsthand, and it still didn’t stop him. And I bet he’s jumped into fights to help a pal in less noble circumstances.”

I laughed in agreement. I’d seen Doug get drawn into barfights when one of his buddies had gone down. The Special Forces code. Some macho crap, but still, kind of reassuring.

“Loving people makes us vulnerable, it draws us into fights that aren’t ours, sometimes. And sometimes, it just makes us realize that fights belong to all of us, when there’s an aggressor, and a victim. It’s what makes us human.”

“And fish,” I added.

She laughed again, and somewhere inside me the weight of responsibility lightened a little. Not totally, and don’t get me wrong, I was still planning five thousand ways to murder the guys who hurt Doug, but enough so I could breathe.

Was there nothing this woman couldn’t do?

I suddenly became aware of something wet and sticky in my palm. I looked down, and saw Benito’s muzzle slobbering on my open hand. Mom took a moment to register the huge, drooling canine smiling up at her from the most comfortable spot on her beautiful Turkish rug.

“Darling, what is that?” She was looking Zen, but I could tell she wasn’t so impressed.

“Um, not sure what breed he is, but he’s for you,” I started. “His name’s Benito.”

“Like Mussolini?” Need she ask?

“Uh-huh,” I confirmed. “Look, he’s a guard dog. A really good one. And even better, he’s trained for the hearing impaired. He’s a really good listener.”

Given what I’d just told her about what happened, Mom could see where I was going with this, and I could tell she was wavering, so I exploited her moment of weakness.

“Doug got him for you. Thought he might help keep you safe.”

“Okay, then,” she sighed, patting her lap and encouraging the huge dog to jump onto it. “Welcome, Benito,” she said, touching his eyelids in the ancient Aegiran greeting. And then, thoughtfully, “But what are we going to do with you when we go back? Last I heard dogs can’t hydroport. And they certainly can’t breathe water.”

Did I hear right? Why did Mom think she was going back to Aegira? I mean, I definitely needed to go back, but there was no reason she needed to. Mom needed to stay a million miles away from there. Just run this town and stick close to Benito.

“That’s what I was about to tell you, Ransha,” she started softly. “A herald came again. The Queen wants me back. She’s having a meeting. She wants me there.”

I sighed. Great.

No way would Mom ever refuse a herald. Let alone one from Imd herself.

“Mom,” I started. But where do I start? Someone’s tried to kill me three times now?

“Don’t Mom me,” she berated me gently. “There is no question about this. I am going. Even if it hadn’t been for the herald, I would not let you go there alone.”

“When?”

Even though the sick agony of my nicotine withdrawal and the soft bruise of my raw guilt were messing with my capacity to think, I tried to work out what I needed to do before heading back. See Aldus. Call Dad. Check on Doug.

“The meeting is tomorrow night, but we’ll lose a few hours traveling. We’ll leave in the morning. We need a few hours sleep before we travel again.”

It made sense, even though my body itched to be back. I knew hydroporting close together was dangerous. It didn’t only sap your strength, it could kill you. I remembered Carragheen, disoriented in the shower after hydroporting twice in quick succession. And I knew I would need every ounce of strength to do what needed to be done once I got to Aegira. Now that I had more information, and more leads. There was finding Imogen, of course, and trying to solve this riddle. But there was more as well. I needed to face Carragheen. I needed to find out what he knew, and why he’d been deceiving me. One way or another, he was gonna talk.

Even if I had to kill him.

Somehow I knew that this confrontation would take the greatest courage of all.

So Mom was right, we should sleep first. A little. But if I could manage to sleep at all, which I seriously doubted, I’d be doing it at the hospital. Close to Doug.

“Okay, Mom,” I conceded. “Dawn then.”

She nodded, and I wondered what the Queen was asking her to do. Why did Imd want her there? I wondered how the Queen was faring, back in Aegira, whether the poison was leaving her system. Whether Lecanora had been able to keep her safe. Whether the Princess was safe herself. I wondered what the herald had shared with Mom, if anything.

“Do you know what she wants?” I wasn’t sure if Mom would tell me, even if she knew. “What do you think the meeting is about?”

“I don’t know much,” Mom acknowledged, and I could tell she was telling the truth. “But I do know she is bringing the whole of the leadership grouping together.”

“Hmm.” I nodded, digesting. The whole leadership grouping. So Zorax would be there.

Good. I was gonna nail that little worm to the wall.

But Mom had already moved on. “Now, Ransha, I have a lot to do. There are things this town needs while I’m gone.” She motioned with her head to the papers spread out in front of her. “I need to take these down to the chambers.” She looked me up and down. “And I suppose you have things to do, too. Can I suggest you start by cleaning up? I’ll help you dress those cuts.”

For the first time, I looked down at myself, focusing on what Mom was seeing.

Benito, too, looked as though he was following every word of our conversation.

I realized it was bad when he gave a disgusted-sounding whimper as he looked at me.

Traitor. You don’t look so hot yourself, I thought, taking in the blood matting the back of his fur where he’d crashed around in the back of the van during the impact.

But I recognized Mom had a point.

She fetched warm water and antiseptic, and bathed and sterilized the cuts on my arms and face. It felt good to be tended to like this, and I could tell Benito agreed, as he almost purred this guttural sigh in the back of his throat as she tended to him as well.

But then it was time for Mom to go, although I didn’t want her to.

I wanted her here with me, safe within the perimeter of my vision. Even though I knew I couldn’t keep her safe, not really. At least not until I worked out what was going on and who was behind it. So I insisted she take Benito with her, and she agreed.

I could tell she was already getting attached to the mangy beast with his crooked smile.

Come to think of it, he kind of reminded me of Dad.

When they’d left, I peeled myself out of the clothes I’d worn to Williamstown, in the accident, at the hospital. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I’d stood in Cleedaline’s apartment.

As I fiddled with the shower to get it scaldingly hot, I thought back over it all. Cleedaline and her tattoo, looking for me. And Zorax.

As I let the water sluice over me, I knew I was going to have to hunt him down, back in Aegira. Once I’d spoken to Carragheen, once I had surer footing. But the only lead I had to find Imogen was the dark place, the cave outside Aegira.

The thought of going there made me chill inside.

And then the vision came.

Something about water, I thought, remembering the last time, as I’d stood streaming on the bathmat. Water seems to dislodge the visions, activate them or something. This vision was clearer than ever. It was like I was getting better with practice. And I felt surer of myself as I reeled beneath its power, as well. Less rocked, less afraid. I was starting to see this gift as my friend. At first it was just dark, but I could feel, rather than see, that there was something there, in the darkness. I waited a few seconds, groping with my heart for what it was. I concentrated on the blackness, searching with my heart rather than my eyes or my brain.

Then I saw her. Imogen.

She was swimming fast, and she was afraid. She was being hunted, like a skittish fish in a fisherman’s sights. She was swimming really hard, and she couldn’t quite work out what it was that had her, that was chasing her. I realized that I was seeing the moment of her capture. I was seeing what happened to her.

I was in the thrall of the vision, but also inside myself. This was like a message from another place and time, sure, but I had some agency in it. I could seek, and try to find. Like today in her apartment, looking for the book. I zeroed in on Imogen’s heart, and the force of the feelings I got to share almost doubled me over. She was so afraid. I could taste the fear, bitter in her mouth. Her ears were singing, her heart was bursting in her chest as she zinged, zig-zag, through the water, trying to evade whatever was following her.

And through it all, she was thinking about love.

But who was it that she loved?

Was it Cleedaline?

I could feel Imogen wonder if this was the end, wonder if she would ever see her love again, whether they would ever lie together, strung out on ecstasy and music and the heat of each other’s bodies. She was thanking Ran for the times they had together, worried about appearing ungrateful as she died, because she knew, in the deepest parts of herself, that whatever was chasing her was winning. She could feel the truth of it. That she couldn’t keep up. That the hunter was playing with her, that soon he would have her. And that it would spell the end.

Then she felt it. The cold, slippery grip of the hands upon her. She was strong, and struggled mightily against the frigid iron of the grip that held her, but it was no good. She was caught. And then she was bound, her hands and feet tied with the strongest of weed vine.

She couldn’t move, and someone was trying to bind her eyes. Before they did, she flicked her head, tossing and shoving this way and that, to try to see who it was. Who was trying to imprison her. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t see anything except a huge, dark shape.

She’d been out, swimming and looking for answers, in the darkness beyond the city, alone and unaccounted for, when it had happened. Now, it seemed, she would die alone as well. She wanted to cry out for her mother, but as she tried, it happened. At first she thought they were strangling her. She clawed at her throat, her mouth, tried to rip the thing away that was blocking the passage of air and sound, but as her fingers connected only with her throat, she realized she had it wrong. It seemed incredible, impossible, but it happened.

They held something to her lips, and as she screamed, her mind forming the cry uttered by a thousand lost and terrified souls, a cry for home and mother, the thing stole the cry from her.

After that, she kept trying. She cried, and yelled, keened and bellowed, but the sounds were small and pathetic. They had taken the sound of her voice and her heart.

The rest happened quickly. She was dragged through the water, silent and terrified. Through the darkness, to a place she could not name, even if she had the voice to speak it. The journey was one long agony of confusion and terror. Why her? Where were they taking her?

There were no lights, no signposts to mark the way. Only ever-deepening blackness.

And grief for her voice, which had gone, perhaps never to return.

By the time they arrived she was numb with the fear and perplexity. When they rolled her inert form onto the sandy floor, she lay still, and didn’t even look up at them. When they left her alone, she was glad of it. She felt different, lesser, disabled. All that was her, that made her who she was, had been taken. She didn’t know why. And she didn’t know by whom.

When the vision receded, I was shaking and spent. I knew with the certainty of whatever this new thing was that Imogen was still there on that sandy floor, quiet and alone. I didn’t know what had happened to her since, but I knew that to her, there seemed to be little difference.

She could not even imagine that someone could come for her.

Things like this were not possible in the place of her birth, her coming of age.

In the place where she made the sounds that made the people weep.

Whenever she tried to connect mentally with those she knew, with her lover, there was no reply. They were far away, and something more. She could see they did not know that she was gone. She could not imagine how it was that they did not miss her, could see the space where she used to be. She started to wonder if she had ever existed, and why she existed still.

I was sitting on the floor of the shower, shaking and weeping for Imogen, searching the things I’d seen for clues as to where she might be. And all I could come up with was the cave.

She must be in that cave. The cave that Carragheen went to.

It had been dark, in the vision. And it had gotten darker and darker as they traveled there. There was a sandy floor, and it was far away from where her thoughts could be detected.

It wasn’t much; there are lots of dark places at the bottom of the sea.

But it was all I had and I was going with it.

I was out of the shower and trying to piece it all together, wondering why the hell this grisly thing was happening to me, why I had been chosen to know about this, to look for Imogen, when the second crazy thing happened.

She came.

Ran. The mother of us all.

One moment I was wiping myself with a towel, trying desperately to scrape away the fear and self-doubt left by the vision. The next I was staring into the face of the Goddess, standing not two yards in front of me. She really was beautiful, although she looked impossibly sad.

My first thought was that she looked like Imd, the Queen, in that there was a warmth to her blondeness. Her cheeks had dimples, and her hair was ringlet curly. She reminded me of an advertisement for butter, or yogurt, she looked so pure and so vital.

But, somehow, she also looked dark and serious. A woman on a mission.

“Daughter of Lunia,” she began.

“Ran?”

I wasn’t sure of the right etiquette. How should I be addressing her? Goddess mother? Your Highness?

I was never good at protocol. The Mayor of New York City once inspected our precinct and I dropped a pretzel on his foot. I felt another such moment coming on.

“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice constantly changing in tone and pitch, like scales on a glockenspiel, like the ever-changing tune of the ocean.

She walked closer to me and touched my shoulder, and in that moment she was real, flesh. This was not a vision. She was here.

We were two women, not goddess and supplicant.

“I need to tell you something,” she offered, her hands held prayer-like in front of her. “For my daughters, for all my daughters.” She paused. “Do you know their names? The names of my daughters?”

I searched my unreliable memory for the names of the nine Aegiran queens, each of whom had ruled for a thousand years. Aegiran children learn the names of the nine queens from the cradle, but I was always a recalcitrant student.

“Um… Angeyja,” I stammered.

“Yes,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “My eldest. The first. The one they call Sorrow-whelmer. Because of the sadness she endured.”

“And Atla, Fury. Eistla, foaming waves. Ah…” I was getting close to the outer limits of my knowledge of the line. “Eyrjafa, the sand strewer”. I gave up. “I’m sorry, mother. That’s all I have. Apart from Imd, of course, our Queen. Dusk.”

“You have done well, beloved child. The others were Jalp, and Greip. And Iarnsaxe, you know her as Ironsword, my littler fighter. And then Ulfrun, the She-Wolf. And yes, you are right, now Imd.”

I watched her, cataloguing a mother’s grief. The daughters she loved, taken from her, forced to live alone, and rule the creation of their parents without them, and without each other. She looked hollowed-out with longing and sadness.

“What do you think it all means?” She almost seemed to be asking herself.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

Then she was all business. “Of course you don’t, and you have your own peril on the horizon as well.”

She knew? She knew about the Seer’s words?

“None of us can know what any of it means, not really. But goddesses have some insights. That’s why I’m here. You see, I believe that it’s about you.”

“What is?” I don’t need this, please don’t tell me this, I can’t be responsible, not any more responsible than I am.

But she went on. “The prophecy of earth and sea. You know it? When Ran’s line ends, only one world can be, and the bloodtide will only be stopped by the swellsong of the three.”

I felt an ocean well up inside me. Of course I knew the freakin’ prophecy.

“Rania.” Ran paused. She was infinitely gentle. “You are one. One of The Three. That’s why you’re having the visions. That’s why you’re right to look for her. For Imogen. I can see the connections. Imogen is part of it, part of stopping the bloodtide. Part of what you need to do. To save the world, and yourself. You must not give up.”

“But you don’t get it.” I wanted to disagree with her. No way can I be one of The Three. “I’m not even a real Aegiran. Only half, you know.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Ran said, her fingers to her perfect bow lips. “No-one was ever half anything. And if anyone ever was, it wasn’t you. You are strong and brave. You will save her, save the last of my daughters. And our world. And if you can’t, no-one can.”

“But what about the others? The rest of the Three?” I needed something here.

Sweet mother, couldn’t she tell me something?

She frowed, ever so slightly. “I don’t know. If I did, I would tell you. I can only see things much as you can. Piece by piece. But I know this. One you know. The other will come to you. But trust your visions. They are truth. They are not imaginings of a fevered mind.”

“Is this a vision? You? Now?” My head was spinning. I felt dizzy and light.

“No, Rania,” she said softly. “I’m here with you, for a moment. But it costs me to be here. I won’t be able to come again, not for some time.”

“What should I do?” I was grasping at straws.

“Find her,” she commanded, and in the command was all the imperious confidence of the first queen. The Goddess Queen. “Find her and then do the other things that will be asked of you. Only then can you stop the bloodtide.”

I sighed, feeling shades of Mrs Tripe. No way would nagging make this woman tell me more. “I just wish I knew who to trust.” I said it almost to myself, thinking of Carragheen.

She was dismissive. “Of course you know. The way women always know things. With our hearts.” She looked right into me and my brain went back to that kiss. The one I’d been trying so hard not to think about. The one with the man I couldn’t trust.

I blushed and she laughed. “You know, Rania, when I met Aegir, I could have gone to him immediately. It was as if I had always known him.”

My heart leaped with joy. Is the Goddess telling me I should trust Carragheen?

But I squashed it, shivering inside with guilt about Doug. “You don’t understand, the toll this is taking. And not just on me.”

She frowned a little, then her brow cleared with understanding. “Ah yes, the land-man. Fear not, Rania. He will recover, with your help. And his part in this is not over yet. We will need the help of more than one land-dweller before we end this.”

“He’s going to be okay?”

She smiled cryptically. “You will see to it.”

I was so strung out I was ready to snap. “Is there nothing else you can tell me?”

She stopped for a moment, considering the request. “There are some long buried secrets. The magic one, the one you call Mrs Tripe. You tried to find out about the secrets from her. Perhaps now is the time for you to know them. Talk to your mother. Knowledge is strength.”

And then she was gone, and there was only a small puddle where her shimmering vanilla warmth had stood seconds before.

Oh, crap.