* * *
Paddington woke when his hand buzzed. After the moment of panic, he remembered what it was: the alarm vibrating on Lisa’s old mobile phone. Lisa was still asleep beside him, oblivious to his plans. Good.
Their argument last night had lasted longer than the cups of herbal tea that Lisa made, but without change: she still wanted to come with him to the Mainland. He still didn’t want her anywhere near Adonis. That was why Paddington had crept into the bedroom after their conversation, pulled Lisa’s mobile phone out of its box, plugged it in beside the bed, and hidden the phone itself under his pillow. Archi had no reception, but the phone functioned perfectly well as an alarm. He’d opened the bedroom door once he was changed for bed, interrupted Lisa’s staring-into-space marathon for a goodnight kiss, then headed back to bed and had dropped quickly into a dreamless sleep.
Weird. He’d thought his night would be filled with sleepless anxiety over what lay ahead and endless repetitions of possible conversations with Adonis, but he fell right to sleep.
Now Paddington crept from bed, dressed in silence in the living room, grabbed the overnight bag he’d packed full of Nepeta Dynatos – vampire-strength catnip, useful in a fight – and exited in utter silence.
He walked from his house to the docks. It took more than an hour, but he couldn’t risk Lisa hearing the car engine and the only way to ensure she stayed safe was by leaving before she was awake. That also stranded the warmongering pack on Archi – at least until they found and convinced another fisherman to take them to the Mainland – which bought him time to convince the Andrastes to return peacefully.
Paddington banged on Charlie’s front door until the haggard fisherman opened it. “Chief. You’re early.”
“Change of plans. We need to leave. Right away.”
Charlie frowned with eyebrows like fluffy caterpillars. “I haven’t checked the boat over yet.”
“How long would that take?”
“An hour or so.”
If Lisa woke up and found him missing, the first place she’d drive was here to the docks. They had to be gone before that happened. “No time,” Paddington said.
“You can’t tell me how—”
“Have you ever had a problem with the boat?”
Charlie took offence, which was the idea. “Of course not. My baby’s tuned up proper. Never had a trouble in her life.”
“Then let’s go.”
In ten minutes, Charlie was dressed and they were pulling away from the dock, standing on the open-decked boat under grey clouds that stretched away endlessly before them.
“What’s on the Mainland that’s so important?” Charlie asked.
Charlie would turn the boat around if he knew Paddington was colluding against the Andrastes. “Two hundred pounds,” Paddington said, handing the money over. “As promised.”
Charlie pocketed the notes. “Understood. Official business and all that.”
The clouds darkened as Archi shrank behind them. Back there was everything he’d ever known. Ahead was everything he’d always wanted. So why did Paddington find himself looking back rather than forward? Why was he watching the wash out the back of the little trawler instead of peering ahead to try to spot the first hint of Mainland coast in the pre-dawn light?
Not from fear. He was anxious, yes, because there were so many unknowns, but not scared. This was where he was supposed to be. He felt that old rush, that mix of danger and excitement, of not knowing what was to come but looking forward to it.
“You should get some sleep,” Charlie shouted over the engine’s roar.
Paddington turned to the front of the boat. “Why do you say that?”
“You’ve been dipping your head for near an hour.”
Had he? Why hadn’t he noticed the sun come up? Ah, because it was trapped behind storm clouds so thick they weren’t going to allow a little thing like dawn brighten their sky.
Behind them, Archi was no more than a speck. Paddington could only find his home on the horizon because he knew it must to be there. Someone was probably missing him by now…
Paddington took himself down into the hold. The floor was damp and the enclosed space reeked of fish, but Charlie had set up a hammock which was dry and far more comfortable than it should have been.
Paddington closed his eyes, but couldn’t sleep. Today was the day he would see the Mainland. Whether it lived up to his expectations or not, today his illusions would die.
Today was also the day he’d have to stop the Team from starting a war. And he’d have to convince Adonis to return to Archi, somehow. Even assuming he managed all that – averting war, somehow foiling Adonis’s plans without yet knowing what they were – when he came back he’d have to explain to Lisa why he’d abandoned her. She’d understand that he couldn’t risk her and the baby in a warzone, but she wouldn’t forgive him.
Mostly, though, he couldn’t sleep because the boat’s motor was too loud. It knked and knged, and occasionally kwa-pinged, but never in a way that Paddington could anticipate. If it were at least rhythmically loud he could have nodded off.
Then it made a noise he’d never heard before. A screeching kraaaa-pang that sounded unpleasantly like snapping metal. Paddington sat up.
“What the bleeding heck was that?” Charlie roared. He threw open the hatch to the top of the boat and heavy rain poured in and started sloshing around the floor of the hold. “What are you doing down there?”
“Sleeping!” Paddington yelled back, though in reality he was struggling out of the hammock, which deposited him in the icy water on all fours. He leapt to his feet, but had to duck down again, coughing. Smoke was pouring out of the machinery. It coated the inside of his throat with a taste like motor oil.
“Get up here and take the wheel!” Charlie shouted. Paddington rushed up the wooden ladder and was knocked sideways by the storm.
“What do I do?” He’d never driven a boat before. Which of these buttons and levers were important? Which of these instruments told him which direction they were going? For that matter, which direction were they supposed to be going?
“Hold this, you idiot!” Charlie clamped Paddington’s hands on the wheel, then left him in the little pilot’s enclosure and rushed down the ladder into the hold.
Paddington gripped the wheel tight and battled against the waves and the storm. He couldn’t help but notice that the horizon wasn’t staying horizontal. What had been a nice rocking sensation in the hammock was frightening up here. And the only thing keeping this boat from tipping over and sinking was him? Oh good.
A wave broke against the boat and knocked Paddington against the side of the booth, which was raised a touch above the rest of the boat’s floor and had plastic walls in front and on both sides. That was probably supposed to keep the pilot safe or dry. It didn’t work; the rain came at an angle and the wind had torn half the tarpaulin roof off. What remained flapped in the gale like a useless sail or flag. Still, the one-man cage had kept Paddington from being knocked against the side of the boat or over it.
Although, now that he tried to pick himself up, he realised his hands were practically frozen onto the wheel. It felt like slippery ice. Paddington redoubled his grip; he couldn’t afford a second’s mistake. The whipping wind and rain in his eyes made it hard to keep them open, and even when he did look out all he could see was storm. Waves. Water below and falling above. Each new wave that slammed them – unexpected and unprepared-for – pushed the boat over. Paddington strained to keep it level, but the deck was wet and his footing unsecure. How long until he slipped and knocked himself out on the wheel?
“How’s it coming, Charlie?” Paddington shouted down the still-open hatch. “Charlie?”
The clanging and banging had become worse. Much worse. Nothing made that much noise through simple neglect or disrepair, especially on Charlie’s boat. That left sabotage…
And the Andrastes had left one vampire behind. Wow. Paddington had walked right into th
is one, hadn’t he? Three-God, he’d as good as told Guenevere that he was leaving. And Adonis had mentioned Lisa’s plant export business at dinner, so they knew how he’d travel.
He’d given them everything they needed to kill him – instructions for halting one pesky demon from ruining their plans again – and now he was somewhere between Archi and the Mainland, in sight of neither, in a boat that he could only barely keep from capsizing.
Then something exploded.
At least, Paddington assumed it did. There was a bang like a giant hammer, a roll of heat and then smoke out of the hatch, and silence from the engine. The wheel spun in Paddington’s hands, knocking them aside with a fresh jolt of pain. The boat turned left and… down? The nose was dipping. They were sinking.
“Charlie?” Paddington shouted. Still no reply. Smoke stopped pouring out. Perhaps the seawater had put out the fire in the hold.
Paddington rushed to the ladder and went down it as quick as he dared. He was several rungs from the bottom when his foot met water. He let go and dropped waist-deep into water and looked through the half-smoked gloom. There was an eight-foot hole in the front and part of the engine was gone, though whether it had been sucked out the charred hole or had caused the charring on its way out Paddington couldn’t say.
“Charlie?” Paddington half-waded, half-swam deeper into the hold, against the better judgement of his muscles which would have preferred to just lock up. Paddington thought he saw a shape a few feet ahead and rushed forward. By the time he reached it, the water was halfway up his chest.
Charlie sat on a stack of crates beside the hammock, his face and clothes blackened. Whatever had exploded had done so right in his face. One eye was closed and crying blood. One hand held a metal pole that Paddington assumed had once been part of the engine.
“Abandon ship,” Charlie said. Not frightened, not rushed, just distant and slightly sad: it’s been a good run. This is the end. Get out.
Paddington put his arm around Charlie and heaved. The big fisherman tried to steady himself with the pole as they walked, but he was too badly injured to do more than stagger. The water was most of the way to Paddington’s neck and Charlie, bent with pain, was gasping seawater and air. By the time they’d reached the ladder, most of its rungs were underwater. Charlie struggled up through the hatch but before Paddington could follow him, another wave hit and the boat tilted to one side. What had been up was now sideways, and the hatch no longer offered salvation, only a fresh source of freezing ocean to flush Paddington back into the hold.
He released a bubble and followed it to the surface where he found a small patch of air trapped against what had been the side of the boat. A few gulps and Paddington ducked back underwater. He couldn’t stay here: even if the oxygen lasted, the boat was still sinking. He had to find the way out.
With one arm, Paddington followed the curve of the boat toward the front. Right now the hole in the hull was his only chance of getting out of here. If he could find it before he ran out of air and drowned…
Ah yes. Here the metal dipped away and ended with sharp lines. Paddington grabbed the side, ignored the pain, and pulled himself through the hole. He released another breath and followed the bubbles up.
He burst out of the ocean and breathed heavily. Every lungful carried with it pouring rain, but at least it wasn’t salty. And as long as he kept his head above water he had a chance to survive.
“Charlie!” Paddington shouted. He couldn’t see him, but the waves were rough; Charlie could be in one of the troughs ten feet away. Gods, in this rain Paddington wasn’t even sure he could see ten feet. Charlie could be riding one of the waves’ peaks and he wouldn’t spot him.
“Charlie! Can you hear me?”
No answer but the waves, the wind, the rain. Paddington doubted he would be able to hear any response. Honestly, though, he didn’t think Charlie was here. Not anymore. If he couldn’t walk; how was he supposed to swim? Most likely the boat had taken Charlie with it when it had rolled over, cradling him in its arms as it sank.
Paddington said a quick goodbye. Should he offer a prayer? Had Charlie been a believer? Paddington didn’t know, didn’t know which of the Three-God to pray to in Charlie’s name, so he returned his thoughts to the living and how to remain among them.
He had to find land. Growing up on an island made strong swimmers, but he couldn’t tread water forever and wait for a rescue. So: swimming. First step, shed clothing. Lose weight.
Now, which way was land? Which way had the boat been heading before it capsized? Had it even still been travelled in the right direction?
The last piece of Charlie’s boat – the corner of the backside, or bow, or whatever it was called – disappeared beneath the churning waters with a blup and Paddington was alone. Nothing but ocean all around. It made giving up so appealing. Stop struggling and let himself drift off to whatever afterlife the Three-God had for him. Just slide into the welcoming arms of death. No more worries or hardship, no more mad prophecies, no more stupid islanders or abusive Mainlanders…
No more Lisa. No seeing his child grow up. He would become what his father had been for him: an idea. An absence. A lack of memory. And that wasn’t enough.
There had to be a way.
Think… Think. Think!
The sun!
The sun rose in the east. The Mainland was to the east, roughly. If he swam toward the sun, he’d be going the right way, at least until midday.
So Paddington swam, without sight of land or boat. No one knew he was out here except those few on Archi, and he’d seen to it that none of them were in a position to mount a rescue. The Team probably wouldn’t start looking for him until nightfall. He couldn’t swim for that long.
Something else, then. Something radical. Paddington closed his eyes for a moment and changed into the wolf. He was always faster as a wolf, and became less tired – thanks to the spleen holding a spare reserve of red blood cells. That extra athletic ability might make no difference, but if it bought him five minutes, that was an extra five minutes in which a ship might come along. He was also less likely to get sunburn through his fur, but sunburn was only a concern only if the sun came out from behind the bucketing rainclouds. And if he lived.
So James swam, but no boats came to his rescue. No lights pierced the storm. Even after it finally died, no ships passed. Just the sun above, the sea below, and him in the middle.
And eventually he tired. Each kick cost him more effort and rose him up in the water less than the last. His breath came in gulps, and the gulps came with seawater. When he didn’t have the energy to keep swimming forward, he concentrated on just staying afloat. Finally even that was too much, so he changed back into a human in the hope that the larger feet and hands might help him stay up. They did, but he’d left it too late. This morning had lasted forever and he had nothing left to fight with.
Paddington lay back, gave himself over to the tide, and slipped into the sea’s waiting arms.