The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)

 

Underfoot, the mechanism rumbled. Metal groaned as the gates slid open. The pressure from the high tide warped them in their tracks; they ground to a halt a foot apart. But a green waterfall poured through, spilling into the harbor.

 

The flood was coming.

 

On the wall, Blake grabbed for the key, but Crowhurst belted him across the jaw. He reeled, sliding down into the lee of the tower. I had to help—I had to close the gate. “Slate!” I screamed over the wind. “Bring us closer!”

 

“This is as close as I can get!”

 

Swearing, I ran to the mast, pulling myself up the ratlines, the halyard in my hand.

 

“What are you doing, Nixie?”

 

I didn’t bother answering—my father knew what love looked like. Stepping quickly to keep my momentum, I teetered out to the edge of the boom; without stopping to think, I leaped, swinging across the gap. There was a moment of terrifying freedom between ship and shore. Then I landed on the wall and stumbled into a run, my bare feet slapping the slick stone.

 

Spray soaked my legs as I ran. The sea was whipped to a frenzy, the water swirling in spouts and vortices. The harbor was filling quickly. I careened toward the tower. But Dahut was already there.

 

She put her hand on Crowhurst’s arm. “Close the gate!”

 

He only threw her off. “Bring the yacht to the wall! Quick, before the wharf is covered.” Then he frowned, patting his pockets. “Where the hell are my other keys?”

 

“I won’t let you do this,” she said, shaking her head. “I won’t let them all drown!”

 

She lunged for the key again, but Crowhurst grabbed her. She twisted in his arms, struggling as he yanked her away from the mechanism. Her eyes flashed and she pushed him, hard—Crowhurst stumbled, catching himself on the very lip of the wall. She dove at him again, but she was so small. They struggled . . . she screamed—

 

He swung her around and let her go.

 

She tumbled off the wall and into the harbor.

 

“Dahut!” I skidded to a stop at the edge, breathless, disbelieving. Below, the green water swirled to white where she’d gone down. At my feet, Blake groaned, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the harbor. Crowhurst stood beside me, panting, both of us watching for a sign of Dahut. Would she surface? I did not see it happen.

 

But something else splashed in the harbor then, a flash of silver in the light of the moon. I was watching when the next mermaid slipped through the open gates, her clawed hands gouging the brass as she propelled toward the wharf. She was followed by another, and another. Over the city, the bells of Ker-Ys began jangling an alarm. Then Crowhurst turned to me, and I realized just how alone I was on the wall.

 

The metal squealed again, the gates sliding open another foot, and the earth itself seemed to shudder as a fresh tide rolled across the harbor. The rising water twisted the fishing boats on their moorings, turning them stern up, like dipping ducks. The docks were already swamped, and silver shapes circled hungrily in the water. Even now the tide would be rising through the sewers and pouring into the room where Cook had been—where Kash was now, without his lock picks, without me.

 

I couldn’t get there in time to free him, even if I could swim through the icy waves. I had to shut the gate. But Crowhurst stood between me and the key, clenching his empty hands. “Maybe you were right,” he said then, and his voice was strange and faraway. “Maybe the past can never be changed.”

 

“I didn’t say that.” I slipped my hand into my pocket. “I just said you couldn’t do it.”

 

Crowhurst’s eyes glittered and in his voice, a warning. “I am a cosmic being.”

 

“You’re a madman.” I slid my finger through the loop of the lock as my heel wavered on the edge. From the Temptation, Slate was shouting over the wind, trying to push the ship closer, but I didn’t turn my head. “And you’ve lost.”

 

“I know I have,” Crowhurst said, his voice almost sad.

 

“So let me close the gate,” I said to him, almost pleading. “Let me save Kashmir.”

 

But he only reached for me, and I swung the lock. It connected with a meaty sound. He clutched his jaw and swore, the curse thick on his tongue. I tried to dart around him, scrambling along the lip of the wall, but he grabbed a fistful of my cloak and shook me—my god, he was strong! My toes brushed the stone as he hauled me close to his face; it was twisted with rage. A fleeting thought struck me then: here was the monster in the castle. “Just because I lose,” he growled, “doesn’t mean you’ll win.”