Ali looked up at him, sad. “You won’t be able to stop me.”
Ra blinked, rubbed his eyes.” Why are you doing this?”
“Because I brought them to this place. I’m responsible for them.”
“That’s not true!” Ra said.
“It is true.” She tore off the last of the fresh bandage, looked down at Paddy, who appeared to be going into shock. She added, “I’m responsible because I’m their queen.”
Ra saw she was determined. The strength seemed to go out of his legs, and he sat down beside her as she placed the palm of her injured hand in front of the scab’s path. As she suspected, it was immediately drawn to her exposed flesh, her blood. She watched as a tentacle reached up and gripped her pinkie, and another coiled around her wrist.
Perhaps it preferred human meat to leprechaun . . .
Within a minute the creature had moved onto her lower arm, and let go of Paddy.
She felt poison in her veins. The stinging sensation was worse than her burn.
Ali sat back on her knees, lifted the fire stones, glanced at Ra.
“If I pass out, tear some cloth, put a tourniquet on my elbow,” she said.
Ra looked as if he would be sick “Then what?” he asked bitterly.
“Then slap me in the face, wake me up, and let me finish the job.”
Ali raised the fire stones and tried to concentrate on a spot six inches beneath her elbow. She felt the venom go deeper into her blood, as the stones began to warm. But Ra reached over and knocked the stones from her hand.
“Wait!” he pleaded.
“Ra!” she complained, feeling a wave of nausea as the scab crawled up an inch. “I have no choice!”
“Listen. I watch tons of American programs. That’s where I learned to speak such good English. My favorite is your Discovery Channel. I watch it all the time—I’ve learned amazing things from it. There was this one program, it was on saltwater fish, how most of them can only survive in a narrow range of ocean depth. Most of the fish you see when you snorkel—take them down two hundred feet and the pressure will kill them.” He gripped the arm that carried the scab. “Do you know what I’m saying?” he asked.
She had to struggle to understand. “You mean that, even if these creatures originally came from the sea, they might be sensitive to pressure?”
Ra nodded. “They look like jellyfish. They might be as vulnerable as jellyfish.”
The bridge was supported by multiple pillars, but had no true railing. She glanced over the edge into the churning river. The water was green and blue and alive. A current like that could carry her out a mile in a matter of minutes, and there she would find plenty of deep water.
Deep enough to drown in. She felt far from strong. Ra seemed to read her mind.
“You said it yourself, Ali, you’re more than human. You can swim way down, two hundred feet if you have to.” Ra added, “When it falls off, and you return to the surface, I can swim out and rescue you.”
Ali snorted. “Rescue me? You’re from the middle of Tanzania. I like to watch Discovery Channel, too. Tanzania’s bone dry. I bet you don’t even know how to swim.”
Ra hesitated. “I sometimes splash in a friend’s pond.”
Stumbling to her feet, Ali shook her head. “You cross the bridge with Farble and Paddy. Hike toward the beach, wait for me there. But do not go in the water. It will just give me one more thing to worry about.”
Ra stood and patted her on the shoulder. “Swim deep, my friend. Kill it.”
Ali nodded. “One of us is going to die.”
There was no reason to wait, plenty of reasons not to.
Ali turned and jumped off the bridge. Over a hundred-foot drop.
She hit the water hard, went down deep, then the current gripped her body—an overpowering hand that she didn’t try to struggle against. Kicking toward the surface, she was disappointed to see that the impact had not loosened the scab. It had moved further up her arm.
The river was fresh water, moving fast, but she did not realize until it went past the borders of the beach that the ocean itself was not salty. Despite her dire predicament, the fact amazed her. The entire sea was like one huge lake!
The collision of the river and the sea kicked up a ministorm. The river had miles of momentum, the ocean had waves. She felt as if she were caught in white-water rapids, and had to fight for breath. But she had faith Elnar would shove her into deeper water.
The scab appeared to blame her for the rough ride and stung her repeatedly. It was as if the monster was aware of her plan; she felt a huge evil behind its petty mind. The creature had definitely been programmed, not by nature, but by a twisted psyche. As it clawed up her arm, she sensed it was hungry to consume her brain because it wanted to grow its own brain. It was not merely a starving parasite—it was a vampire, a demon, it sought to possess its victim.
Around her, the water finally began to calm, and she looked back and saw she was far from the sandy shore. Beneath her the water was more green than blue, clear but deep, full of promise. Sucking in several quick breaths, Ali lowered her head and reared her feet into the air. Then she was kicking and pulling herself down, using all four limbs, even the one with the scab on it, fighting the natural buoyancy of the water, and her own aching lungs, and tired muscles. Her last words to Ra had been a vow. She was not returning to the surface until one of them was dead.
Down she went, through swarms of colored fish, until the clear liquid turned as dark as a midnight lagoon, and still she did not stop. The pressure grew until it felt as if a mountain of water danced on top of her skull. She had to pop her ears continually. But she knew the scab did not like it. As if in a blind fury, it stung her repeatedly, tried to grip her arm tighter. But it was hanging on for dear life. She had no doubt—the creature was in pain.
So was she. It was just a question of who could take more.
The distant surface vanished. The water turned pitch black. She could not see a thing, and still, she continued down. At least she thought she was going down. All sense of direction was lost. Her blood pounded in her head, lava swelled in her bursting lungs. She was dying, she could feel it, almost accepted it, but she wanted to die alone, not with this thing attached to her. God, how she hated it!
Then, she must have won, the scab fell off. It was just gone. Ali stopped swimming, floated, not sure which way to go, while the furnace in her chest screamed for her to do something. But it was her hope, as she drifted, that she was moving back toward the surface.
Then she saw it, a faint green glow. It was above her, but more off to her right—and she kicked toward it furiously. Now the pressure swept over her in reverse. The air in her inner ears did not know how to take it, nor did her lungs, which pleaded with her to open her mouth and get rid of the stale fumes they were holding and give them something fresh to drink. This time, the millions of colored fish, as she swept past them, seemed to sparkle with their own light. And she recognized them, not from Hawaii, when she had gone with her parents, but from another life. Her trip into the abyss had changed her. As she hit the surface, sucked in a dozen blessed breaths, she felt like she had been reborn.
She took a leisurely swim back to the beach, through the delicious green surf, just north of the current caused by Elnar striking the sea. When she came out of the water, her friends were waiting for her on the sand, and her heart broke to see Paddy up and smiling, and he hugged her, and called her Missy, and she hugged him back, and cried, and Farble and Ra were there, and happy, and even without resting, or talking much, they started on their way again. North, up the white beach, then over the sculpted brown hills, and into the lands of the leprechauns and the fairies.
CHAPTER
13
Once more, they stood on Hector Wells’s front porch and knocked on his door. Only this time they knew he was at home—they had seen him drive up twenty minutes earlier—and they felt they were armed with enough information that he would want to talk to them.
> Yet Steve knew, even if they were lucky, that they would have a hard time with Hector. They had asked around town, and everyone had a favorable impression of the contractor, both personally and professionally. In a sense they were coming to him for help. They were there to trade information. But because they were never going to tell him about Ali and their search for the Shaktra, the sharing would be somewhat fake. Hector, if he was as sharp as people said, would probably gather that much.
Hector answered quickly. Dressed in dirty blue jeans and a sweaty red T-shirt, he looked like a contractor who had just put in a full day on the job. His wide shoulders had muscle, his hair was thick, dirty blond, and he had serious blue eyes. He did not appear to smile much. Yet there was an integrity to him—Steve could sense it—and he regarded them with casual politeness. He probably thought they were selling something.
Steve introduced himself and Cindy and told Hector they wanted to talk to him about Nira and Patricia. Hector frowned at the mention of his old girlfriend’s name, and Steve wondered if it had been a mistake to bring up Patricia at the start. Yet the promise of information on her was probably their only ticket through his door.
“Did you know Patricia?” Hector asked.
“We know a bit about her,” Steve said vaguely. “And we know Nira and her new nanny. We had lunch with them at their house this afternoon.”
They were off to a bad start.
“What does any of this have to do with me?” Hector asked.
Cindy spoke up. “We found out some things today that might have a bearing on Patricia’s death, and the boy who died in this town yesterday.”
Hector showed interest, but remained wary. “Heard something about that.”
“Did you know Freddy Degear?” Steve asked.
“No.”
Steve and Cindy exchanged a look. They had asked around, and it seemed no one, except Rose, had heard of Freddy before. It was that fact, among others, which made them feel confident approaching Hector with their wild conspiracy theories—because there was a good chance they weren’t so wild. Yet they had to play their cards right, and not reveal them all at once.
“We would like to talk to you about how he died,” Steve said. “And about Nira, how she’s being treated these days. We understand you don’t see her much anymore?”
“Who told you that?”
“Ms. Treacher, at the library,” Cindy said.
“Forgive me, but I’m not sure where you guys are coming from.”
“It would be easier if we could come inside and explain ourselves,” Steve said.
“Please,” Cindy added.
Hector considered for a moment, but Steve could see that the man had too much small-town politeness to simply shut the door on their faces. At the same time, they had sparked his curiosity. And how dangerous could two kids be? Finally, he relaxed, held the door wide open.
“You guys thirsty?” he asked.
“Always,” Steve said.
The interior was as simple and elegant as the outside. Unlike the Smith residence, Hector loved wood. He had mahogany floors, maple shelves, cedar cabinets. The overall effect was warm. It was clear he lived alone, but he was a tidy bachelor. He brought them bottled Cokes, had them sit on the couch, and plopped down on an easy chair across from them holding a bottle of Evian.
It was a critical moment, Steve knew. They had dangled secret information in front of him, but they still had to get plenty out of him before they handed over the goods.
Once seated, Steve appeared to change the subject. He brought up the electrical plant explosion of thirteen years ago, and said the mystery around it had always fascinated him. He did not frame the remark in a personal way, and Hector was not threatened by his question. Hector spoke of the tragic night in an offhand way, as if he had done so dozens of times before.
“That would have been a crazy night even if the electrical plant hadn’t blown,” he said. “The town was celebrating our team winning the state championship in basketball, but it was two weeks after the game. During those two weeks there had been nothing but arguments about how we were going to celebrate. Some people wanted to have a parade, others wanted a party. And no one at City Hall wanted to pay for anything. In the end we had a half-assed parade and plates of cold cuts.”
“What position did you play?” Steve asked.
“Guard. I had won most valuable player in the final, so I was the one who held the trophy up for all the photographers. I did it during the parade, hated it. I didn’t see myself as a jock back then. I only played the game because I liked it, but I had no plans to play in college.”
“Did the plant blow at the start of the party?” Steve asked.
“In the middle. After listening to all the speeches, and having some food, I snuck off to be alone with Lucy, my girlfriend. For some reason, the gate leading to the plant was open, and we went inside to walk around. But we didn’t touch anything, or break into the turbine area.” Hector added, “Later, I had to tell the cops that a thousand times.”
“Why?” Steve asked.
“Because Lucy and I were inside the plant when it exploded.”
“How did you survive?” Steve asked.
“The plant blew at the other end of the facility—closer to where the gas burned that heated the water and drove the turbines. Lucy and I were shielded by the control room and a storage area. Or I should say, I was shielded. That’s not to say I didn’t feel the impact. When the plant blew, the ceiling ruptured above me and the walls collapsed. There was fire and smoke everywhere. I was lucky to get out alive.”
“But Lucy didn’t?” Cindy asked.
“Just before it blew, she said she had to go to the bathroom, and went looking for one.” Hector added, “That was the last I saw of her.”
“That must have been rough on you,” Steve said.
Hector took a swig of his Evian. “That whole year had been rough.”
“Nira’s new nanny, Rose, told us about Sheri Smith, how she was also in the plant when it exploded,” Cindy said. “Did you see her when you and Lucy were there?”
Whoa . . . Cindy had pounced too hard. Steve saw it.
The sudden shift in the conversation caught Hector completely off guard.
“Huh?” he muttered.
Steve tried to smooth things over. “It was just something we heard.”
Hector shook his head. “I know who Ms. Smith is. She was nowhere near there. What kind of question is that?”
“We’re talking about the woman who founded Omega Overtures?” Cindy said.
“Yeah. I told you, I know her. She didn’t go to school with us.”
“But Rose told us that she went to school with you guys,” Cindy said.
“This is a small town, we have a small school. I knew everybody when I was going there. I certainly would have remembered someone like Ms. Smith.”
“What’s she like?” Steve asked, trying to regroup from Hector’s revelation.
“You haven’t met her?”
“We’re supposed to have lunch with her and Nira tomorrow,” Cindy said.
“She’s pretty, smart, but I found her controlling. I wished Patricia had never gone to work for her.”
“Why?” Steve asked.
“She was always ordering her around. She made her work unreasonable hours. Patricia thought she was a terrible mother. I saw more of Nira than Smith ever did.” He added, “I miss that kid.”
“She’s sweet,” Cindy said.
Hector nodded. “She does have a sweetness to her. Most people around town don’t see that. They just think she is a mental case. But I felt it whenever I was with her. So did Patricia. That’s why she stayed so long on the job, and put up with that woman’s demands.”
“If Ms. Smith is not from around here, where is she from?” Steve asked.
“No idea.” Hector turned away, looked out the window, and it was as if he paled slightly. He added quietly, “I try to stay away from that woman.”
&nbs
p; “Why is that?” Steve asked. There had been a sudden note of fear in the man’s voice. But Hector shrugged off the question.
“You haven’t told me what any of this has to do with Patricia’s death,” he said.
Wariness had returned to Hector’s face. No doubt he was beginning to wonder why two kids were grilling him about such a variety of subjects. Steve had to ask himself the same question. They were jumping all over the place because their ideas about Toule and its mysteries were undeveloped. They could not sit down with Hector and connect all the dots. All they had was a brown bag stuffed with wild clues, strips of paper with names on them that kept overlapping with other names. When Steve mentally reviewed the facts, he got a headache. There was no set logic to them.
Rose worked for Sheri Smith, taking care of Nira.
Patricia used to work for Sheri Smith, taking care of Nira.
Hector used to date Patricia.
Hector used to see Nira.
Hector used to date Lucy.
Lucy and Sheri Smith had been in the plant together when it blew. According to Rose, but not according to Hector.
Hector’s two girlfriends had died in Toule.
Freddy Degear had died in Toule, but only Rose knew him.
Freddy Degear was the reason they had gotten to know Nira.
Yeah, Steve thought, it was all interesting, but how did it add up?
“We’ll get to that in a second,” Cindy said, unaware of how annoyed Hector was getting. “But we need to ask you a couple of questions about Lucy, and what happened to her the year before the electrical plant blew. We understand she was in a car accident, and that she got badly burned?”
“Who told you that?” Hector demanded.
Cindy lowered her voice. “Ms. Treacher.”
Hector shook his head, he had reached his limit. “It’s your turn to talk. You tell me what you know about Patricia’s death and I’ll decide what to tell you about Lucy.”
They had reached an impasse. Steve decided it was time for a little honesty.
“We went to your local library,” Steve said. “We were there this morning, but we went back again after we had lunch with Rose and Nira. A lot of stuff was bothering us about Rose, that we’ll get into in a minute, and we wanted to check it out. But from talking to people around town, we knew about your connection to Patricia and Lucy and Nira. That inspired us to look up all the old articles on Patricia’s death, and we saw that she had been hit with a black SUV.” Steve added, “Some witnesses said it was a Ford Expedition.”