An Ordinary Drowning, Book One of The Mermaid's Pendant (34 page)

The wind
calmed after she spoke, and so did the world around them. Trees and shrubs
slumped at the respite and the lagoon, which had slapped at calves and the
merman’s muscular tail, subsided to a flat expanse of murky water. Her father
stood immobile, silent and terrible.

“Put him
down, Father, and I’ll come with you.”

When her
father said nothing, she stepped forward and touched the back of his hands with
her fingers. Her fingertips felt frozen on his cool skin and she dropped them
hastily, waiting. He grunted and released John, who fell into the lagoon and
crumpled to his knees so that the brackish water reached his chest.

Tamarind
knelt beside him and touched his face. He raised his eyes, green as the leaves
of mangrove, of tamarind, of palm—of all the trees and shrubs and flowers that
she’d grown to love on Culebra. “Good-bye, John. May the Creator bless you.”

His
mouth opened, but nothing came out. His lips moved futilely, like a fish lying
on its side on the beach suffocating in the open air. Keeping his eyes on her
face, he fumbled for an instant with something below the surface of the lagoon
and then lifted the small wire-wrapped moonstone Goddess, dripping and
gleaming, up between them. He held it out to her and when she brought her hand
up to accept it, his fingers clasped hers, hard.

Come,
daughter, we go now before the fury of the storm whips the sea beyond my
strength.

Tamarind
extricated her hand from John’s grip and looked steadfastly toward the sea as
her father hoisted her onto his back, although she couldn’t see it through the
trees and scrub north of the lagoon. She knew from her walks on Culebra that
the beach at the far northeastern corner narrowed until almost nothing remained
between ocean and lagoon; her father would head there for the shortest path
back to Mother Sea and safety. The full force of the storm loomed on the
southern horizon and when it reached the island, it would devastate it. She
felt nothing, no fear nor sorrow at the thought of mangled homes, trees ripped
by the roots from the soil and denuded, birds and horses and giant anoles
drowned or flung against concrete and rock.

Her
father swam with one arm bent back to hold her around her waist—her own
indifferent hands slack around his neck, the Goddess dangling against his
chest—and they’d nearly reached the corner of the lagoon when the winds died
again and she heard splashing behind them. Her father quit swimming and turned
awkwardly in the shallow water to peer back toward the spot where they’d left
John. The sky had darkened so much that she knew John would have trouble
seeing.

“Tamarind!
Tamarind!” The wind enlarged and directed his voice so that it reached them
easily. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”

A faint
surge of electricity prickled around them and her father shifted. The muscles
in his back bunched and tightened. When she reached her thoughts out for his,
his mind had darkened and again closed to her. He looked out toward John, whose
head appeared as a darker splotch against the dusky lagoon. He said nothing,
but waited. After moments long enough for them to reach the open ocean and race
away, John neared, slapping the water with heavy arms that hardly cleared the
surface of the lagoon. He stopped to look for them every few strokes. Against
her father’s chest, the Goddess glowed faintly even though the clouds hid sun,
moon, and stars.

Her
father took the Goddess from her hand and rubbed his thumb over the moonstone
gem.
It calls to him.

She
didn’t respond, only shivered against his back.

This
stone is warm, almost alive. You imprinted a part of yourself on it when you
wrapped it within this figure.

She
clutched his neck.
It’s only a piece of jewelry, nothing more. Throw it into
the lagoon and take me away.
Even the rain now falling over them felt
warmer than her chilled skin.
Please, let’s go, Father.

I
cannot. His imprint is on it, too. His blood and his care for you have altered
its essence indelibly. You are both bound by whatever magic lies wrapped inside
it.

Tamarind
closed her eyes, trying again to see into her father’s thoughts, but they had
taken on the polished sheen of obsidian.

“Tamarind.”
John’s voice, a few tail lengths away, sounded frail. He’d stopped swimming and
only his head bobbed above the water. As the sound of her name faded, his head
disappeared. It appeared again, but only long enough for him to lift his face
to draw a breath and then it slid a final time below the surface.

Before
Tamarind could respond, her father lashed his tail against the lagoon,
propelling them to the spot where John had slipped under. Without pausing, her
father dived under the surface and black water pressed on Tamarind’s eardrums
and eyes. She started choking before the valve in her throat closed and her
skin extracted oxygen from the water around her. Her diving membranes descended
and she saw John’s pale face; his open eyes stared at them.

Tamarind
let go of her father’s neck and swam towards John. She grabbed at his hand; his
fingers curled around her wrist. She kicked her awkward legs against the
enveloping water and reached upward with her free arm. Suddenly her father
grabbed her hand and she soared to the surface. Next to her, John’s head broke
free, but she knew that he’d taken in water and couldn’t breathe on his own.
Before she could plead with her father, he’d pulled both of them up onto the
bank and turned John onto his side. Sheets of rain washed over them until her
father wove a spell in the air, surrounding them with an invisible bubble into
which no wind or rain penetrated.

For
several moments, they said nothing. Her father bent John’s prone form over one
thick forearm and began massaging his back with the other hand. In a moment
John vomited copious amounts of brackish water and he coughed and choked violently
afterwards. Her father waved his hand over John, murmuring until he grew limp
and quiet. Then he lay John down again on the ground.

In the
dark, her father’s eyes glistened. He studied her face for some time before
speaking. “Live well, daughter, and know that I’ll love you until the stars
fall from the sky and the oceans dry up.”

Tamarind
stepped closer to her father and into his embrace. Warm saltwater dampened her
cheeks and blinded her eyes. Until now, she hadn’t known what she would give up
when she left the ocean behind. After the briefest interval, her father pulled
back, kissed her gently on the forehead, and then eased her down onto the
ground next to John.

Farewell,
Father. Until the stars fall. Until the oceans dry up.

And then
he’d slipped out of the bubble and heaved himself onto the sandy bridge to the
ocean and disappeared into the roiling night.

***

They
remained there on the lagoon’s muddy bank, trapped between the ocean and
Marilyn, in the protective bubble that Tamarind’s father had woven in the air. Tamarind
sat with her knees to her chest, shivering, while John lay inert at her side.
Even though no wind penetrated the cocoon, its howling tore at her with vicious
fingers. It sent rain at them with such a fury that Tamarind imagined waves
crashing against rocky shores.

She had
no way of knowing how long she sat there in the violent dark, but she’d grown
so cold that her teeth began to chatter and her knees banged into each other
even though she wrapped her arms around them tightly. She remembered the warm
ooze at the bottom of the lagoon when she’d stood in front of her father and
she wanted to lie down in that ooze, to wrap its velvety embrace around her.
Occasionally the winds died down for a moment and she heard the lagoon slapping
fitfully at the ground where they sat, unable to proceed higher up the bank. If
John hadn’t lain there next to her, she could have escaped into the lagoon and
anchored herself among the mangrove roots. She shook her head and rocked on her
buttocks a little. If John hadn’t lain there next to her, she would have
returned with her father to the sea.

She
lowered her face to her knees and breathed into her cupped palms. As she did
so, she saw the Goddess lying on the ground next to her. When she picked it up,
it radiated a steady heat that set her to shivering even more violently. She
curled herself around her hands, holding the figure against her abdomen where
it warmed her enough that she finally stopped shaking.

“Hey.”
John pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing. He looked towards her,
but she knew that he couldn’t see her. “Where are we?”

“Inside
my father’s glamour, on the edge of the lagoon. We won’t be able to stay here
when the heart of the storm moves over us. The waves from the waters to the north
will surge over the beach and flood this lagoon. My father’s protection won’t
be able to hold against them.”

“You
should have gone with your father. No need to save me a second time only to
have a hurricane sweep me away.”

“You
won’t be swept away.” She reached out and touched his knee. She left her hand
there. “We’ll take the road up Mt. Resaca together and shelter in the tower
until Marilyn is far out to sea.”

“That
sounds like a walk in the park.” His tone belied his words. “Okay, let’s do it
then. I can’t see so well in this crap so you’ll have to take point.”

“‘Take
point’?”

“Lead.”

“Okay.
You hold her then.” She handed the Goddess to him. The moonstone glowed enough
that his fingers found hers without fumbling.

“She’s
so warm. Makes the night seem colder still.” He lifted the figure up next to
his eyes and looked at Tamarind through the sphere of light she gave off. “Holy
crap! You’re blue!”

He
scooted behind her and wrapped his arms and legs around her. The Goddess
dangled in front of them, her beam swaying as John’s arms pulled Tamarind
closer.

She
leaned back against his damp t-shirt. “My senses tell me we need to go while
the winds are still gusting. In a few hours, they will shriek without let up.”

He said
nothing, only held her against him for a moment. When he released her, she
pushed herself up and away to stand. Her toes splayed against the muddy ground
and she wobbled a little until her balance asserted itself. Behind her, John
stood up as well.

“Which
way, sir?” She knew he meant it as a joke, but his voice trembled.

She took
his hand. “This way.”

Putting
her hand through her father’s protective glamour, she dismissed it and stepped
away from the lagoon. Mt. Resaca loomed over them, a darker shadow within the
night’s enveloping penumbra. Together, they plunged into the cascade, their
hands a lifeline between them.

***

Tamarind
clutched John’s hand as hail tattooed her chest and stung her face and scalp.
Not far off to her left the ocean, already frenzied beyond understanding, no
longer offered her any strength or comfort. The alien drops in the air around
them hissed static in her thoughts and refused to yield to her numb fingertips.
She could weave no protective shield around them as her father had done and
whatever benign force had aided them earlier as they drove from the refuge
office had disappeared in the merciless onslaught. The gusts abated for a
moment and she pulled John forward a few steps before bracing for another rush;
as they walked across the grain of the storm’s path, every fresh gust
threatened to hurl them to the sea.

During
one of these brief interludes, John swung the Goddess into the hand that held
hers; now they cradled the figure between their interlocked fingers. Warmth
radiated up Tamarind’s arm and down her trunk, flowing into her feet and then
into the ground. The dark, rich energy hummed inside her and flowed back
through the Goddess to John, linking them more securely than their joined
hands. When the wind next whirled around them, it barely rocked them where they
stood. Tamarind lowered her head and trudged forward, moving through the rain
as easily as if she swam in a calm sea. They passed through the first line of
trees and thorn acacia lining the eastern edge of the lagoon and the strength
of the winds diminished noticeably. John came up beside her and they picked
their way side-by-side through the low-lying groundcover to the road that led
up the western flank of Mount Resaca. He kept one arm across his abdomen as
they climbed.

Half an
hour later, they’d reached the top of Mount Resaca and the observation tower
there, panting and bleeding from a myriad thorn scratches. When Tamarind
twisted the doorknob on its only door, it remained stubbornly closed.

“It’s
locked.”

“Of
course it is.”

John
stepped around her and battered the door with his shoulder. It didn’t budge.
After a moment, he held the glowing moonstone figure up and studied the door,
whose red paint had long been weathered to a pale echo of itself. In the faint
light, he was a
moulos
, a dark water sprite with tangled hair and hidden
eyes. She blinked and willed the image away. He reached above her and she felt
him tugging at something along the doorframe.

“Good
thing this is an old door and no one thought to put locking pins on the hinges.
Here.” He held a short stick-like item toward her. “Hold this.”