* * *
After two days onboard, I was in a living hell and we still had six days to go. I’d never imagined it possible to feel so much agony. I hadn’t climbed out of bed for twenty-four hours. When I didn’t answer their knock at the door, Candace and Ronnie got a member of the crew to let them in.
“Maggie, what’s wrong?”
“I’m all right…” is what I tried to say. Garbled muck came out of my mouth.
Candace bolted to my side and put her hand on my forehead. “Oh my gosh, you’re on fire.”
I just managed to open my eyes, but couldn’t focus on her.
“Has she changed her bandages?” Ronnie asked.
“She said she has…I’m going to take a look, alright, Mags. I’ll be gentle.”
Terrified of the pain removing the dressing would cause, I tried to say “no,” but once again only a garbled moan escaped my lips.
Candace ignored me and began loosening the plastic case around my arm. Her eyes watered and she gagged when she gently removed the bandage on my forearm where Mara had driven her claws to the bone.
“It’s infected and oozing. Maggie, it’s so bad.”
She dabbed as gently as she could, but the contact registered in my mind as though she was twisting my arm off in a giant pincer. Their voices became more distant as I struggle to escape the pain and project. I slipped into darkness instead.
* * *
A male voice found my wandering consciousness in the darkness. I’d been dreaming—I think. The fuzzy images appeared and then disappeared back into the shadows so quickly I didn’t know whether it was a dream or not. The voice came again, a mumbled whisper in the distance. I stumbled to it, searching the darkness for the source. Pushing through thick black nothingness, I felt something else. I felt heat. There was heat all around me. It was too hot, like I was burning. I wanted to drift back to that place I’d just been. Chaotic visions or not, it didn’t hurt there.
Through the heat, the invisible flames that singed my flesh, I heard another voice. It was familiar, feminine, and it felt real. I chased after it, hoping it would lead me away from the burning torment. Am I in hell? Did I go to hell for killing Fae? Where else could it be? A few syllables here and there resounded in the darkness, and I let them draw me closer until everything hurt again, especially my arm. It was burning, and I knew if I opened my eyes I’d see nothing but charred flesh.
The voice was closer—it was the source of my agony.
“This will help,” the voice said.
There was a prick somewhere else in my body, my hip, and then it stopped and around it the pain raced away. Slowly, so slowly, it chased the agony through my body, forcing it out of my chest and legs, and then from my neck. I begged it to fill my head and douse the flames in my arm, but the sweet relief advanced no further.
“She’s breathing easier,” the woman’s voice said.
“She needs medical attention,” said the man with the foreign accent. “You should not have brought her on this ship.”
“She has to get to Ireland,” the woman replied. It was Candace’s voice, I think.
“Ireland? We’re two days from England—you can’t travel with her like this. The cut is very deep and looks infected. The bone must be realigned so that it can begin to heal. No, to save her arm and her life, we must call for help—it may be possible to airlift her to a hospital.”
“Captain, we have to get her to Ireland. It’s a matter of life and death.” That voice belonged to Ronnie, I think.
“We have no doctor on this ship. A few antibiotics, a little morphine, that’s all we have. Your friend needs real help.”
They continued to argue and I felt the veil of fever climbing back over me, dragging me back to unconsciousness. In a moment of lucidity, my mind screamed at me to concentrate on Sara. But sleep seemed so wonderful. If I could sleep again, the pain would go away. Find Sara, my inner voice screamed.
I struggled to concentrate. It felt like I was wading through chest-deep mud. There was another voice in my head, clear and sharp, like the ring of crystal stemware flicked with a finger. Relax, child, I will see you through this.
I felt her watching me, pressing on me with her mind. Then I slipped off to a cool, dark place, far away from the voices and the pain.
* * *
The light hurt my eyes through the lids, and I thought I was dreaming again. The pain was gone. All of it. Something nearby reeked, and my mouth and throat were parched. Reluctantly, I moved my good arm and blocked the source of the light. No pain.
“Are you awake? Candace, Candace, she’s awake,” Ronnie chirped a soft but excited voice.
“Maggie?”
“Yes…” I mumbled.
Blond and beautiful, looking like Norse twins, they were smiling when I opened my eyes. Both cringed when I sat up, their hands inches from me, but afraid to make contact.
“That’s crazy,” I said in a dry voice.
“What’s crazy?”
“The pain is gone.”
Candace reached for my forehead, her hand felt soft and cool against my skin. “You’re fever is gone, too. The antibiotics must have stopped the infection.”
I took a deep breath, clearing my head. Again, there was no pain but the stench was overpowering.
“My god, it smells like something died in here.”
“That’s you, Mags.”
I let my eyes adjust to the light and realized that my clothes and sheets were soaked in sweat, and worse. “Oh my god, it’s disgusting.”
“I know, I’m so sorry. You screamed in agony every time we moved you. We cleaned you up the best we could…I’m so sorry, we should have…”
“Stop. It’s all right. I’ll take a shower.”
They were both protesting when I started to move my feet to the floor. They were still arguing, wrestling with me, when I push Ronnie out of my way and stood. They both froze and gawked at me like I’d turned purple and sprouted horns.
“What?” I demanded.
Ronnie’s mouth hung open and he stared at my left arm. I had it thrust in the middle of his chest, as straight as the plastic cast would allow. “What the…” was all I could manage.
Ronnie began unwrapping the bloody bandage, slowly at first, and then helped me slip the cast off. The skin was bruised purple and green above my elbow, but the gaping wound had turned into a dark pink scar. The claw marks, so badly infected a few days ago, were jagged scars surrounded by healthy pink skin.
We exchanged bewildered looks.
“Did Sara come?”
“No, nobody came,” Ronnie whispered.
“At least that you could see,” I said.
“Can you bend it?” Candace asked.
“Yes, yes,” I said, shaking, bending and twisting it in different directions. “It’s sore, but…healed. It had to have been Sara. I tried to project. I thought I failed, but it must have worked.”
“Where is she now?” Candace asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t feel her, or any of them.”
In the small bathroom, I peeled the crusty clothes off and stood under the hot water for thirty minutes, scrubbing the dirt and filth away. Searching the foggy memories, I knew I’d heard a woman’s voice but I couldn’t remember if it was Sara’s.
* * *
Several members of the crew watched me warily in the mess hall. They had all known I was on death’s doorstep a few hours earlier, and it seemed to bewilder them to see me up and about. Those who weren’t confused seemed almost afraid. Especially one of the Russians, who stared at me without eating. When I spoke, he grabbed his tray and slid away, saying something that sounded like “karovapitza.”
“What is he saying?” Candace whispered to Ronnie.
“How should I know? I don’t speak Russian.”
The men stopped staring, and many left when the captain came in.
“I didn’t believe it,” he said, staring at me. A slight smile formed on his face. “How do you fe
el?”
“I feel a lot better. Thank you, Captain Brandt. My friends told me you gave me medicine. You saved my life.”
Between his graying beard and mustache, the captain’s thin lips formed a reluctant smile. “Penicillin and morphine…that’s all we had on board. I don’t understand, but I am glad you feel better.” Creases formed in the skin around his dark eyes when I smiled at him. “You will make it to Southampton, then?”
“Yes, I’m going to be fine.”
He stared at the plastic cast on my arm and the bandage on my neck before turning to the door. The moment before we left my cabin, Candace reminded me to put the cast and sling back on and re-bandage my neck. It was a good thing I had. Walking around healed might have sent them over the edge.
“We will be on time. Be ready to disembark Thursday morning. First thing.” He stepped out of the room, nodding to one of his officers in the process. The moment he disappeared down the corridor, the crew began staring again.
I leaned across the table and whispered, “Come on, let’s get out of here. This was a bad idea.”
Eight sets of eyes followed my every move. The young Russian sailor whispered something between clenched teeth and repeated the same word, “karovapitza.”
Back on the deck, I asked Candace what she thought was wrong. She said they all thought I was going to die. The Russian sailor had been in the room with Captain Brandt, and had run back for the morphine and new bandages.
Ronnie said, “The Russian, Luka, freaked out when he saw the bite wound on your neck.”
“You’re on a first name basis with the hot Russian?” Candace asked.
“I’m friendlier than you—deal with it. Anywho, he kept saying that word over and over—karovapitza or kurova-pizza, whatever. He wouldn’t come back in after that.”
“It doesn’t matter—we’ll be off this ship in eighteen hours. I’ll just stay in my room where I won’t freak anyone out.”
In the corridor, I felt the sensation of being watched. I spun my head around to find Luka and two men following us.
“Come on, let’s get back to my cabin,” I said, exchanging looks with my friends.
We walked a little faster toward the stair that led up to our deck. As we approached, booted feet under an orange jumpsuit slowly came down one stair at a time. In the gloved hands above them was some kind of wrench. “You have to be kidding me.”
“Karovapitza,” hissed out of Luka’s teeth from behind.
“I don’t know what that means,” I said, as Ronnie stepped in front of me.
The four men closed to within a few feet, and I got my Air barrier ready. There were two options: knock them silly; or blow them overboard.
“Zurück zu arbeit,” a stern voice barked from above.
The men flinched and jerked their heads up. Captain Brandt leaned over the railing a deck above, staring them down. Luka’s eyes shifted between the captain and me. Then he turned and walked away. The two hulking Norwegians followed. The wide-eyed Filipino on the stairs turned and shuffled out of view.
Captain Brandt’s voice was still stern when he barked, “Sasha, make sure they get back to their cabins safely.”
Sasha, a pale-skinned man with buzzed hair and a lean, sinewy body, hustled down the stairs. He looked the three of us up and down and then smiled, his thin lips pulling back to reveal crooked white teeth. “This way, please,” he said in English with a thick Russian accent. “Please, follow me…yes, yes…” he said, as we walked behind him. His callused hands looked too big for his body, and far too old. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.
Candace whispered, “What was that about.”
“I don’t know. What was he saying?” I asked.
Sasha peered back over his shoulder. “He says, karovapitza. That is, uh, how you say, leech…blood-sucker.”
“Are you kidding me? He thinks she’s a vampire,” Ronnie said to Candace, shaking his head.
Sasha wrinkled his nose as his toothy grin spread across his face. “Luka is, um…суеверный, in Russian.”
“What?” Ronnie asked.
“Swen-urr-ne,” Sasha said slowly. “is…superstition. Do not let him, um, pain you. Is okay. Really.”
He led us up a deck and to our cabins, waiting patiently as we entered and flicked the lights on. He stared up and down the deck while he hooked his big thumbs into the open sides of his orange nylon jumpsuit, stealing glances at me each time he turned his head.
“Are you afraid of me, too?” I asked.
He raised his eyebrows and fought to keep from laughing. “No. I, uh, make sure Luka does not come back.”
“Thank you, Sasha,” I said smiling.
He smiled back, but stared at my neck before turning his face and sauntering off. Ronnie closed the door behind him.
“Great, are they going to come after me with wooden stakes tonight?”
Ronnie locked the door. “This is crazy. We’ll stay together tonight in case they come back.”
“It’s not that crazy if you think about it,” Candace said. “Everyone thought Maggie was going to die last night, and they all saw the bite mark on her throat. Now she’s walking around. Thank god I made you wear the arm brace. Can you imagine?”
“No doubt. Maybe they’ll calm down when the sun comes up,” Ronnie said.
We chatted for an hour behind my Air barrier. I felt crewmembers outside the cabin twice, but they didn’t try to come in. The second one practically sprinted past. Candace slept, Ronnie read, and I projected.
Focusing on the crew, I searched the ship making certain that Luka wasn’t forming a lynch mob or sharpening stakes in the bowels of the hold. He was asleep. Confident I could spend a little time away from my friends, I focused on Sara.
She was in Naeshura along with Devin, the Fae from my Earth trial and a dozen others. They were settled in a field under a cloud-dappled night sky. There wasn’t much light, but I never needed much to see while projecting. In the distance I sensed young trees, conifers of some kind. It looked like a newly planted forest, as none were much more than ten feet tall and none shorter than five. Beyond the Fae sat the ruin of a small stone cottage—roofless and windowless—and next to it a slender tree grew out of the foundation. It wasn’t a particularly remarkable area, just grassy rolling hills and sheep, but it had a profoundly somber feel.
I willed myself close to her and concentrated on the words, “Sara, it’s Maggie.”
The Fae stirred and shot away in a tight formation. Speeding alongside, I called to her again. “Sara, stop, please.” The Fae moved sporadically, zigzagging across the smooth hilltops. I let them leave. She didn’t know it was me, but how is that possible? She saved my life, didn’t she?
I didn’t waste any additional time wondering about Sara’s reaction. I drifted back to my body determined to enjoy a night of sleep with no pain. Just before I dozed off, my imagination went a little wild and I pictured the crew with stakes and crosses sneaking across the deck. They’re not going to do that, good grief.
I welded the door shut just in case.
FIFTEEN
ON THE LAM
The crew seemed relieved the next morning when I walked, without burning, through the morning light to eat breakfast. Luka was not in the mess, to my relief, but the two hulking Norwegians were. Sasha took a seat next to Ronnie and smiled across the table at me.
“You sleep well, yes?” he asked.
“I did, thank you.” I lied.
Trying to play nice, ignoring the stares from everyone else in the room, I started to ask Sasha a question about his job on the ship. Ronnie cut me off as he spit a mouthful of scrambled eggs onto his plate. “What the…”
Candace stared at him and then studied her plate. She pushed her eggs around and began cackling.
“What?” I asked.
With tears welling up in her eyes, she pointed her fork at her eggs. “This is too funny. Garlic.”
Ronnie chugged a mouthful of milk. His ey
es grew wide, and then he winced and coughed.
“You’re joking. In the milk, too?” Candace asked, totally amused.
He nodded and then glared at the steward, who backed up a few steps. There were massive chunks of garlic in my eggs as well, more than you’d use in a vat of marinara. The crew watched me intently as I studied my drink. The entire room reeked of garlic, so I couldn’t tell if they spiked my orange juice until I took a sip. Other than being slightly watered down, it tasted completely normal as far as I could tell. But If I were a betting girl, I’d lay money on the odds that someone mixed it with hastily blessed water. Candace’s laughter got louder when I stuck a piece of garlic in my mouth and chewed, staring down the brooding steward.
“I love garlic. See, not a vampire.”
Red-faced and nearly hysterical, Candace fought for air. I’m not sure what she thought was funnier, the garlic, or Ronnie’s reaction to it.
“Well, this sucks,” Ronnie snapped, pushing away from the table. “I think I’ll wait for lunch.”
I elbowed Candace in the ribs several times as we followed Ronnie back to the cabin, but she continued to laugh the entire way. By the time we made it to our cabins, all three of us were beside ourselves. I thought Candace was going to pass out when Ronnie stuck his mouth under the faucet.
Fortunately, eating garlic and walking in the sun dispelled any further suspicion that I was one of the walking undead. At least that was the case for the majority of the crew. I saw Luka once more when we disembarked the ship at Southampton. I was half-tempted to levitate, but decided that would be cruel. He seemed relieved to be departing my company, and that left me wondering just how frightened people would be if they knew the truth about what really hid in the shadows.
* * *
After being stared down by a severe-looking and completely humorless British customs agent, we got on with the task of trying to get to Ireland. We learned there were no boats headed to Dublin today, tomorrow, or anytime in the near future. The ferry only had service to the Isle of Wight, and we didn’t need to go there. If we wanted to go to Ireland quickly, he said, we should go to the railway station and buy a “single” to Pembroke, Holyhead, or Liverpool.