The crest of the wave rushed past them and they rolled back, prow in the air. The flood filled in the shoals, but the boat was still caught in the tumult of surging water. The force of it was trying to shove the vessel over. Malcolm heaved back on the wheel, his hands next to Imogen’s tentacle fingers. Her grip was solid but it needed both their strength to keep the wheel from spinning wild.
Charlotte clung to the bow, sodden and desperate, now in full werewolf form. Only her inhuman strength kept her on board the boat as it flung itself about in the chaos. She pointed frantically to the left and Imogen spun the wheel as a craggy spire of rock jutted out from under the water. They missed it by inches. The water was deep now, but jagged teeth still loomed close. One terrible stone bent over at nearly a sixty-degree angle. Half of the stovepipe sheared off with a horrendous groan. Charlotte barely dodged the dark iron that slid across the deck and crashed over the starboard side, taking out the rail before it fell into the torrent. She waded through cascading waves, her claws digging deep into the wooden deck. A loud howl erupted from her throat, her arm gesturing wildly to the left again. The long deadly spear of stone reared up in their path. Malcolm and Imogen tried to steer away, but too much force of water was pushing them. The stern swung wide. They were going to hit.
Malcolm’s ears rang. Imogen’s human hand went to her head as the whine built in intensity. It was Penny’s sonic weapon. The base of the jagged stone abruptly shattered to bits as the sound wave hammered it. The boat swept over the spot where it had been.
Suddenly they were in open water. Imogen shouted in triumph and Charlotte answered it with a howl that pierced the steady roar of the sea. Penny staggered up the ladder to the wheelhouse, drenched and weary, wearing a smirk of victory. Even Malcolm felt the elation of survival in his chest. He took a step toward Penny, but Imogen jumped in and hugged him in her jubilation.
Charlotte bounded onto the upper deck and grabbed up Penny, jumping up and down. “We did it! We did it!” Laughter swelled out over the boat as it settled over the gradually calming water.
Malcolm sobered. They had to get back to London. He took the wheel and steered toward home. They had accomplished little and his disappointment must have been plain on his face. Penny extracted herself from Charlotte and came over to him. The two girls went belowdecks to check on the prisoners and the damage.
“We’ll find a way to help your friend,” Penny told Malcolm.
“She doesn’t want our help.” He bitterly shook her head. “She’s his.”
“No. She just doesn’t know him yet.” Penny wrung out her hair. “Trust me. Even I could see that your friend isn’t the evil type. Gaios preyed on her most obvious desire. Helping her father. Anyone might fall for that. She’ll tumble to the truth.”
“Then she’ll be in even more danger.” Malcolm gave a final glance at the rapidly diminishing view of the island. He hoped the rest had fared better in India.
Chapter 18
The cold tore though Simon’s thick fur-lined coat. Overwhelmed by the colors of white and grey, he feared the key had malfunctioned. He turned his head to orient himself and sensed Kate beside him.
She exhaled in frosty amazement and immediately reached up to fasten her collar. “Good God! How is it this cold?”
“This is horrible. People can’t live in these places.” Nick’s incredulous voice came from behind. He had steadfastly refused to dress for the trip and he looked ludicrous now standing in wintry Nepal in his usual rough London tweeds.
They all stood on a craggy trail. A huge mountain behind them jutted up into the clouds. Stark grey rocks protruded from the white ground broken only by the occasional yellowed scrub or frozen ice flow that had once been a powerful cascading waterfall. Columns of bleak sun stabbed through the cloud cover. Their narrow trail led along the side of the mountain up to a hazy plateau.
Hogarth was the last from the portal. He wore an outfit similar to Simon’s, remnants of an old arctic expedition by Sir Roland. He surveyed the surroundings without reaction, hefting a heavy rucksack and his large mace. They all leaned into the bitter wind. Simon anchored his hood with a heavy-mittened hand and closed the portal. He spotted a small glimmer from the familiar compass-shaped rune on a rough stone column standing only a few feet away.
Nick’s hand glowed red as he attempted to keep warm. He drank water from a tin canteen, or at least it should have been water. “No Ishwar to meet us, I see.”