Part 24 (2/2)
Perrin removed his hand from Jenny's mouth. Her whole body trembled, so violently he thought her teeth would start chattering. She stared at the dead woman, stared and stared, but he wasn't entirely certain she was seeing her.
He squeezed her shoulder. Someone turned the music back on though at a lower volume. The mercenary shouted orders, and the mood was somber as some men stood, ambling over to the dead Frenchwoman. One of them kicked at the dog, threw a bottle at it. Perrin heard a hard thud, the dog cried out, and he stopped listening and trying to look.
”Let's go,” he whispered in Jenny's ear. No way would they get to that radio.
She shuddered, glancing at him. Eyes haunted, filled with tears. Perrin dug his fingers into her shoulder and kissed her hard. Heart aching, aching, in his throat.
”Perrin,” she whispered, against his mouth. Hearing her say his name, like that-with pain and loss, and need-made him shudder, too.
He said nothing but slithered backward, drawing her with him. They moved silently, with great care, and it was a long time before they reached a distance where it was safe enough to crawl on all fours. Only when the fires were a p.r.i.c.k in the darkness did they stand. Carefully, listening for any hint that they were not alone.
Jenny still trembled, but her jaw was set, eyes hard.
”You knew the voice on the radio,” Perrin said.
”I haven't heard that man speak in six years,” she replied, softly. ”He's my uncle.”
She didn't seem inclined to share more. Perrin wrapped his hand around hers and made her follow him on a circuitous path to the beach. He chose a spot well away from the battered encampment, afraid the cuts in their feet would be contaminated by the human waste he still scented every time the wind turned. Stars glittered overhead. Waves whispered to him. Perrin felt afraid when he entered the water, as though he would be swallowed, stolen away.
The feeling pa.s.sed. He and Jenny waded in to their waists, where it was deliciously cool. He stripped off his bathing shorts and pressed them into the pack still clipped around her waist.
”Sorry,” he said, but she only nodded, her gaze elsewhere. Her other hand drifted against the water's surface, and there was a weight to her movement, as though she were touching the body of some sleeping giant.
”He sent men to kill us, all those years ago,” she said, voice faint. And then: ”I hear singing.”
Perrin stared, unsure how to respond. He heard singing, too: the waters of the sea mixing with the hum of deep earth, rising into a voice that was as old as the first rock that had formed the world. It had been a long time since he had heard that music. Lost to him, on land. Lost, with his kra'a.
He should not have heard it now. Just as Jenny should have been deaf to it.
Perrin pulled her close, his legs binding together in painful cracks of bone and rippling skin. He tilted them back into the water as his torn, throbbing feet expanded into the fins of a ma.s.sive tail that continued to sting even after its transformation was complete. Jenny clung to his side, one leg hooked over his waist. She took a deep breath, and he sank them both down.
Dark as death beneath the waters, but Perrin could see his way well enough to the anch.o.r.ed yacht. He swam fast, drinking deeply from the sea, and soon they surfaced beside the hull. Jenny clung to the ladder as his tail s.h.i.+fted into legs. He squeezed her hand around the rung.
”Let me check,” he breathed. ”Stay here.”
She gave him a dirty look, which made him smile. Finally. Some fire again.
Perrin climbed the ladder. His pounding heart was the loudest thing in the night. No one was on deck except the dead man he had glimpsed earlier. Bloated, distended, smelling so rotten Perrin wanted to gag. He stepped around him.
Inside, more silence. No minds, dreaming. No one hanging out, drinking a beer. Probably because the small bar he found had already been raided of its liquor.
Perrin walked through the yacht, bent over, crammed into its small s.p.a.ces. He found no one but still felt uncomfortable.
He walked back on deck, and found Jenny already on board, dripping seawater and hugging herself. She stood near the dead man, staring, and made a small, throaty sound.
”Do you believe in ghosts?” Perrin asked her.
Jenny covered her mouth, swallowing hard. ”Yes. You?”
”All spirits abide,” he replied, and grabbed the dead man's arms, dragging him to the edge of the yacht. ”I just hope this one doesn't mind what I'm about to do.”
Jenny made another m.u.f.fled sound-the beginning of a protest, he thought-but in the end she remained silent as he lowered the dead man overboard, as quietly, and respectfully, as he could manage. He felt her stare, though, like a brand on his neck-and when he was done, he turned to her, and said, ”I'm sorry.”
”Don't be,” she replied, but her voice was rough.
He followed her inside the yacht. Jenny went straight to the controls. The radio had been torn out. She turned around and strode down another set of stairs. Quick, determined. Perrin tried to follow, but he was too large to move with any speed inside the yacht. He found her, finally, in the engine room.
It was a crammed, hot s.p.a.ce. Perrin didn't follow her inside.
”It's good,” she said, sounding far away. ”I can get this thing started.”
Perrin didn't wait. He backed out and made his way topside. He noted the warm glitter of firelight on the hill above the encampment, and heard the continuing pulsing beat of music.
He also saw movement on the beach. Four men, dragging a rubber raft behind them and carrying paddles. A cold murderous knot settled in the pit of his gut. Anger. Good sweet anger.
They would have known a tsunami was coming, because of the earthquake and receding tide. Kept their boats out in deep waters, then moored them in the lee of the seawall after the worst of the destruction. Now, they were coming out to get them. Maybe they needed something from the yacht.
Perrin ducked back inside. Jenny was just coming up the stairs, skin glistening with sea and sweat.
”Someone's coming. Get the anchor up, and the engine going. Don't wait for me.”
”What do you mean, don't wait?”
”You heard me. Do it.” Perrin turned away, half-expecting her to catch up and grab his hand. He wasn't disappointed. Except it wasn't his hand she grabbed, but his hair. Jenny yanked hard.
”Listen,” she muttered. ”I'm not leaving you. I'm not running away again, like I did on the beach-”
The beach. He remembered that slip of a human girl, standing on the hill, staring-watching him with anguish in her eyes as he was dragged back into the sea.
Perrin whirled, knocking her hand away, and pushed her hard against the wall. He towered, and she squirmed, pressing even harder against him. He was still naked, and the contact roared, making his blood run so hot, so wild, he almost lost himself in a terrible rush of frustration and l.u.s.t, and love-love-that swelled inside him with overwhelming, drowning, force.
”You didn't run from me,” he growled, filling his hands with her face and forcing her to look at him. ”You didn't abandon me. There was nothing you could do. You would have died if you'd stayed.”
”No,” she said, but he kissed her before she could say another word, pouring everything he was into that act, gripping her around the waist and hauling her off her feet. She was hot and willing, and tasted of salty tears and something so sweet he wanted to sink, and sink, and never tear himself away.
But he did. He heard a dog barking, distant, and broke off the kiss with a groan that rose straight from his chest.
”Perrin,” she breathed.
”Please,” he whispered, backing away-afraid to look at her face. ”Do as I ask. There's no time.”
He didn't wait for her response. He ran up on deck, and dove into the water. His body was already transforming before he slipped beneath the surface, and he swam hard and fast to the anch.o.r.ed speedboats.
The engines. He had to disable the engines. He heard voices, distant, and peered around the hull. Saw the small raft bobbing in the water. The men were in it, but hadn't started paddling yet.
Perrin dove, propelling himself hard to the seafloor. He found a rock with sharp edges and shot back to the speedboat above him. When he broke the surface again, he heard paddles.
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