Part 9 (1/2)

But that was ridiculous. How could Les even find one of those creatures?

Maybe he's a treasure hunter, then. Black market, illegal, on the side. That is what he did before he joined the company. Old habits die hard.

Along with people he had called friends.

Jenny's throat itched. She sipped more soda. The p.r.i.c.kling sensation worsened, and for the first time, she noticed an ache in her legs.

Fever. Muscle ache. The beginning of a sore throat.

And a parasite attached to her head. The two had to be related.

Tell him. Tell him as soon as he gets back.

And, what? What did she expect Les to do? Rip it off her head? Maurice had tried, and-no thanks-she wasn't going to attempt that again outside of a hospital. Jenny wasn't even certain she trusted Les to keep her alive if he knew she was sick. Might be too much trouble.

Grin and bear it, she told herself. Not much choice, anyway. She lay back on the lawn chair, trying to ignore the worsening ache in her body and head-as well as the unrelenting sun on her face, which didn't help the heat rising in her skin. She closed her eyes. The radio played. She focused on music and Maurice, mermaids and Les, trying to wrap all the pieces together. She slept, too, but did not dream.

When she woke, her neck was stiff, and her throat dry as dust. Almost took too much effort to drink the warm soda, but she managed-and settled back in the chair with a groan. Maybe she should talk to Les. That had to be better than leaving this parasite attached to her head. It was an unknown species, after all, and people died from less.

The radio crackled, and the news hour binged. Jenny hardly noticed the broadcaster speaking until she heard, suddenly, Malaysia.

”An earthquake measuring 7.6 on the Richter scale has struck deep in the ocean less than a hundred miles off Malaysia's coast,” said the man on the radio. ”A tsunami alert has been issued for that country, and surrounding nations.”

Jenny heard a choked cough behind her. Les. He had lost his swim trunks somewhere in the water, and stood naked except for the f.a.n.n.y pack belted to his waist. Dripping wet, staring at her. His gaze was terrible, intense. Frightening. All the hairs rose on her neck, and she scrabbled off the chair when he rushed toward her. Except, it was the radio he grabbed.

”Dammit,” he muttered, and looked at Jenny. ”What was that he said, about the earthquake?”

She stared at him, aching and feverish, head pounding. ”What?”

”The earthquake.” Les reached out and grabbed her shoulder. ”When did that happen?”

”I don't know,” she snapped, trying to break free. ”Recently, I think.”

Les let go, though it felt more like a push. Jenny staggered back, breathing hard. Her head felt woozy. ”What is it?”

”Nothing.” Les set the radio on the table by the soda, and his hand shook. ”You seem unwell.”

”I'm fine.”

”Your skin is hot.”

”Been sitting in the sun. I'd like to go inside now if you don't mind.”

Les studied her, and after a moment, stepped sideways to the door and unlocked it. He gestured for her to precede him, which was fine. She didn't particularly want to see his naked a.s.s.

Jenny walked in silence until they pa.s.sed the lab. The steel door was ajar, and when she looked through the gla.s.s, she saw that the cold-locker door had also not been properly shut.

She teetered to a stop. ”What did you think you would learn from her body?”

Les went still. ”I don't know what you're talking about.”

”You examined her body. That first night we had her. And you've done it again.” Jenny leaned against the wall, aching and dizzy. ”Does all . . . this . . . have anything to do with finding her?”

His eyes were so dark. ”Come on, Jenny. Let's get you in bed. I have work to do.”

”Don't patronize me,” she whispered.

Les gave her a bitter smile and slammed open her cabin door-so hard she flinched. ”No kicking. No biting. Promise that, and I'll even let you use the toilet.”

Jenny pushed herself off the wall, using all her strength to walk in a straight line. She stopped in front of Les and forced her own smile. ”I'd rather p.i.s.s my pants than promise that.”

Les said nothing. He grabbed the front of her shorts and yanked her close. His fingers slid against her lower stomach. Jenny's smile froze-and his dimmed. He undid the b.u.t.ton and slid the fly halfway down. Slow. Deliberate. Never blinked, not once. Neither did Jenny.

”There,” Les whispered, some terrible emotion sweeping through his gaze. ”You should be able to manage now, even with your hands tied.”

Jenny didn't dare speak. Les shoved her into the cabin, and she fell hard across the bed. He slammed the door shut. None of them had ever had any use for locks, and doors on the yacht opened outward into the hall. She heard him shove a board beneath the k.n.o.b-no doubt bracing it against the opposing wall.

Jenny listened to him walk away. Tried to sit up, but her head swam. All she could do was lie on the bed, hands tied behind her back. Every time she s.h.i.+fted, even a little, she felt the rub of that unzipped fly on her stomach; and the memory of Les's fingers on her skin made her eyes fill with tears. Jenny buried her face in the pillow, but it was too difficult to breathe. The cabin air was hot-or maybe that was her.

Fever, she thought dimly, as the base of her skull ached. I'm burning up.

She managed to roll off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Everything that could be a weapon had been taken away, but there was ibuprofen in the top drawer. Fumbling behind her back, she managed to pop three pills from the bottle to the counter; then turned, bending to lick them up. She swallowed the medicine dry, gagging when the pills got lodged in her throat. But they finally went down.

Jenny looked at herself in the mirror. Flushed face, bloodshot eyes. Mouth sagging on one side, as though misery was etching new lines in her face. White hairs would probably be next. After that, the grave.

”Not yet,” she whispered, staring into her haunted eyes. ”Not like this.”

Jenny managed to use the toilet-awkwardly-and tottered back to bed. Her desk looked so empty: computer gone, along with the satellite phone and wireless uplink. No way to contact anyone.

Les has been planning this a long time.

Practically had gone through a checklist. Jenny just didn't get it. Memories filled her; laughter and music, and dancing; and all those days and months living together on this s.h.i.+p, traveling the world and hunting for the unknown. What had she missed? Where were the signs? She couldn't think of even one.

Jenny lay down, s.h.i.+fting restlessly. Her wrists and shoulders hurt. Still hard to breathe. But finally she managed to sleep. And dream.

It was such a relief to be back on the beach, to find his body, pressed warm against hers; and hear his voice, insistent and calm. All of him, so real. She had never seen his face, but he had been younger, once upon a time. Younger, smaller, like her. As Jenny had grown, so had he. Her imaginary friend.

Her boy from the beach.

The house was there, too, but that was nothing she wanted to dwell on. Those dreams-those special dreams that had disappeared from her life for a full eight years-had always been a place of peace.

As well as heartache for something she could never have.

But this time the dream ended early-that warm hand slipping through hers-and Jenny found herself drifting in another place that felt just as real, but full of contorted shadows that rippled in her vision. Like water. Deep water, lost to light.

She was not alone. No sign of life, but she felt something huge in the darkness, surrounding her in a coil of heat. She was afraid to breathe, or speak, and the longer she remained still, and silent, the more terrified she felt. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she suffered an echo of her pulse in the back of her head, as though a tiny heart beat there, too.

Wake, whispered a melodic voice. Open your eyes.

They're open, Jenny tried to answer, but water rushed into her mouth with crus.h.i.+ng force, ramming down her throat. She thrashed wildly, her foot kicking something hard-and in front of her, large as a mountain, something moved. A strange rise and fall of golden light, cut with a slit.