Leashing the Tempest
Page 12
My thoughts shot back to the downed ward on the bridge. Panic ousted the adrenaline high I’d been riding.
“Something’s on the boat!”
Lon rushed to my side. “Where?”
Another wave arced over the bow, blanketing the dark shape. When it receded, there was nothing there.
“Where?” Lon said again.
Heart racing, I pointed to the spot and blurted out a crazed description of the dark figure. But as we intently scanned the bow for a sign of anything at all, anything that would give rational meaning to what I’d seen, we saw nothing at all. No deck chair, loose garbage bag, blanket. Nothing.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Do you think I’m just panicking about the ward?”
“Maybe,” Lon said. “Could’ve been a big fish. Shark. Killer whales are black, and they’re out here. Crazier things have happened than them landing on a boat for a moment.”
“That’s probably it,” I said.
“We should . . .”
“Yeah, of course.” God, I hated feeling paranoid. Hated that Lon was hearing my panicky embarrassment, but at least he wasn’t giving me any grief about it. He was too busy rummaging through cabinets on the back wall, dumping out the contents as he went. Power cords, computer cables, and boat manuals piled up at his feet.
“What are you looking for?”
He unlatched the last cabinet and made a happy noise as he withdrew a small case. Inside, snuggled in molded foam, lay a toy-like plastic gun, the color of a brand-new basketball.
“Emergency flares,” he said, shutting the case and tucking it under his arm.
Hope blossomed inside my chest as I trailed Lon to the salon and rejoined the group.
“Will they work in the rain?” Jupe asked when his dad unveiled his find.
“Rain, snow, sandstorm.” He loaded a fat orange shell into the chamber with sinewy fingers and a palpable confidence. I hoped he was right, and that this wasn’t just his avid love of guns talking.
I stood between Jupe and Kar Yee, watching as Lon opened the door to the salon, raised the gun toward the gray sky, and fired off four flares in different directions. Firework-bright red light and smoke streaked through the rain and lit up black clouds from within.
When he was done, Lon struggled to close the door against intense winds that howled from the stern and carried the sharp scent of sulfuric binof sulfchemicals from the fired flares. “Don’t want to use them all up,” he said, securing the gun back inside the case. “Might need to launch more of them when the storm passes.”
Were they bright enough to attract attention in the middle of a nasty storm? Was there anyone around to see them?
We had our answer seconds later, because someone saw them all right.
Or something.
That black figure I’d been trying to convince myself was good-old-fashioned paranoia? It passed over the starboard windows as it climbed to the roof above us.
Jupe cried out near my ear, then jumped behind me. “Ohmygod, ohmygod . . .”
“What the hell!?” Kar Yee shouted.
“Did you see that?” I said. “You saw it, right?”
“I saw it! What did I see?”
“Jesus, Cady,” Lon mumbled. “You were right.”
“What is it?”
Jupe latched on to the back of my shirt. “Where is it?”
“Everybody hush,” I said.
We all glanced up at the ceiling, trying to hear something beyond the howling winds and sheeting rain and our own labored breathing. I swayed on my feet and bumped into Jupe, who started in fright, then whispered an apology before plastering himself against my back so firmly I could feel his heart racing.
The roof creaked. Or maybe it was the boat rocking. I held my breath, eyes rotating in their sockets as I desperately searched the ceiling. Moments later, a muffled Boom! above the TV made us all jump.
But it was the sound that followed, the sound of feet racing across the roof that made my stomach drop.
Whatever the hell that thing was, I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to stand around and wait for it to attack. I looked at Lon and spoke in a low voice. “Captain’s quarters. I can charge the cloaking magick around the captain’s doorframe.”
He nodded once.
“Lock the door to the deck,” I told Kar Yee as I retrieved my jacket from the jumble of loose things sliding around the rocking cabin.
Lon waved at Jupe. “Help me.”
With dueling grunts, father and son lifted the captain from behind the bar. Kar Yee and I trailed them as they carted Christie’s limp body through the kitchen, down the hall to his quarters. He moaned a little when they set him on his narrow bed—a good sign. We watched him for a moment but saw no other movement. At least he wasn’t in a coma.
Lon acted as my lookout while I inspected the cabin’s sigils to make sure everything was hunky-dory. I found connecting points in the cornejumrs of the room, the floor, and the ceiling. It was nice work; whoever the captain had hired knew what they were doing. And it wouldn’t take much to recharge it.
I searched an inner pocket of my jacket and found a couple of magical supplies I usually carried just in case. One of them was a portable caduceus, a carved magician’s stave with a thick core of graphite. I used a much bigger one in the bar, but miniatures were good for smaller spells like this. I palmed the caduceus, cracked my neck, and shook out my arms.
“Be careful,” Lon said. “The lightning strike . . .”
“Something’s on the boat!”
Lon rushed to my side. “Where?”
Another wave arced over the bow, blanketing the dark shape. When it receded, there was nothing there.
“Where?” Lon said again.
Heart racing, I pointed to the spot and blurted out a crazed description of the dark figure. But as we intently scanned the bow for a sign of anything at all, anything that would give rational meaning to what I’d seen, we saw nothing at all. No deck chair, loose garbage bag, blanket. Nothing.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Do you think I’m just panicking about the ward?”
“Maybe,” Lon said. “Could’ve been a big fish. Shark. Killer whales are black, and they’re out here. Crazier things have happened than them landing on a boat for a moment.”
“That’s probably it,” I said.
“We should . . .”
“Yeah, of course.” God, I hated feeling paranoid. Hated that Lon was hearing my panicky embarrassment, but at least he wasn’t giving me any grief about it. He was too busy rummaging through cabinets on the back wall, dumping out the contents as he went. Power cords, computer cables, and boat manuals piled up at his feet.
“What are you looking for?”
He unlatched the last cabinet and made a happy noise as he withdrew a small case. Inside, snuggled in molded foam, lay a toy-like plastic gun, the color of a brand-new basketball.
“Emergency flares,” he said, shutting the case and tucking it under his arm.
Hope blossomed inside my chest as I trailed Lon to the salon and rejoined the group.
“Will they work in the rain?” Jupe asked when his dad unveiled his find.
“Rain, snow, sandstorm.” He loaded a fat orange shell into the chamber with sinewy fingers and a palpable confidence. I hoped he was right, and that this wasn’t just his avid love of guns talking.
I stood between Jupe and Kar Yee, watching as Lon opened the door to the salon, raised the gun toward the gray sky, and fired off four flares in different directions. Firework-bright red light and smoke streaked through the rain and lit up black clouds from within.
When he was done, Lon struggled to close the door against intense winds that howled from the stern and carried the sharp scent of sulfuric binof sulfchemicals from the fired flares. “Don’t want to use them all up,” he said, securing the gun back inside the case. “Might need to launch more of them when the storm passes.”
Were they bright enough to attract attention in the middle of a nasty storm? Was there anyone around to see them?
We had our answer seconds later, because someone saw them all right.
Or something.
That black figure I’d been trying to convince myself was good-old-fashioned paranoia? It passed over the starboard windows as it climbed to the roof above us.
Jupe cried out near my ear, then jumped behind me. “Ohmygod, ohmygod . . .”
“What the hell!?” Kar Yee shouted.
“Did you see that?” I said. “You saw it, right?”
“I saw it! What did I see?”
“Jesus, Cady,” Lon mumbled. “You were right.”
“What is it?”
Jupe latched on to the back of my shirt. “Where is it?”
“Everybody hush,” I said.
We all glanced up at the ceiling, trying to hear something beyond the howling winds and sheeting rain and our own labored breathing. I swayed on my feet and bumped into Jupe, who started in fright, then whispered an apology before plastering himself against my back so firmly I could feel his heart racing.
The roof creaked. Or maybe it was the boat rocking. I held my breath, eyes rotating in their sockets as I desperately searched the ceiling. Moments later, a muffled Boom! above the TV made us all jump.
But it was the sound that followed, the sound of feet racing across the roof that made my stomach drop.
Whatever the hell that thing was, I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to stand around and wait for it to attack. I looked at Lon and spoke in a low voice. “Captain’s quarters. I can charge the cloaking magick around the captain’s doorframe.”
He nodded once.
“Lock the door to the deck,” I told Kar Yee as I retrieved my jacket from the jumble of loose things sliding around the rocking cabin.
Lon waved at Jupe. “Help me.”
With dueling grunts, father and son lifted the captain from behind the bar. Kar Yee and I trailed them as they carted Christie’s limp body through the kitchen, down the hall to his quarters. He moaned a little when they set him on his narrow bed—a good sign. We watched him for a moment but saw no other movement. At least he wasn’t in a coma.
Lon acted as my lookout while I inspected the cabin’s sigils to make sure everything was hunky-dory. I found connecting points in the cornejumrs of the room, the floor, and the ceiling. It was nice work; whoever the captain had hired knew what they were doing. And it wouldn’t take much to recharge it.
I searched an inner pocket of my jacket and found a couple of magical supplies I usually carried just in case. One of them was a portable caduceus, a carved magician’s stave with a thick core of graphite. I used a much bigger one in the bar, but miniatures were good for smaller spells like this. I palmed the caduceus, cracked my neck, and shook out my arms.
“Be careful,” Lon said. “The lightning strike . . .”
