The Gorgons Gaze # 2 (Companions Quartet) (14 page)

Col was bored waiting for his father to surface from his dive, having tired of staring out across the same patch of ocean for several hours. He wished Connie was with him—with her there, they’d have a chance of catching sight of a siren, or a selkie, or any mythical creature in the vicinity, come to think of it.

He thought back to the Society meeting last night. Dr. Brock had stressed that they were far from ready for Kullervo’s next attack with Connie unable to continue her training. The adult members were working hard in secret for the expected confrontation with the shapeshifter and his supporters—even junior members like Col were being taught ancillary tasks, like treatment of weather injuries for the unicorn companions, search and rescue for the selkie companions, and evasion techniques for pegasus and dragon riders. They all expected Kullervo to unleash a devastating revenge, an assault that would require everyone to play their part—especially the universal. Col hated the feeling of powerless
panic that hit him every time he thought about the shape-shifter. He wanted to be braver—stronger. He had wanted to learn how to fight, to know how to protect Connie from Kullervo. He’d be good at it, he was sure of that, and he’d enjoy learning the skills. But Dr. Brock had firmly put him in his place when Col had expressed this wish.

“The Trustees are strongly of the opinion that children must not be used in battle. When you are eighteen, you can apply to join one of our active units, but until then you must be content with learning these other, equally useful skills,” Dr. Brock had told him.

Watching the sea lap against the fenders, Col yawned. Adults were all the same really. There was Dr. Brock spoiling his plans, just as Connie’s great-aunt was determined to spoil hers.

There was an explosion of bubbles in the sea and a masked head bobbed to the surface. Col helped pull his father’s gear over the side before Mack slithered back on board, dripping liberally, shaking himself like a dog emerging from a bath.

“How was it?” Col forced himself to act interested.

“Amazing,” Mack replied, his eyes still bearing a faroff look as if part of him had not yet returned.

“Yeah, right,” said Col, starting the engine. “Connie said the Kraken was one of the weirdest creatures she’d encountered.”

Mack looked up abruptly, anger sparkling in his dark eyes. “Weird? She knows nothing then.”

Col, already irritated by his father’s crass behavior earlier, scaring off his friends, sprang to Connie’s defense.

“Nothing, huh? A universal and she knows nothing? Well, Dad, she knows a lot more than you’ll ever know about mythical creatures, and if she says the Kraken’s weird, then it’s weird.”

Mack peeled off his wetsuit jacket and threw it to the floor.

“That’s right, son,” he said with a bitter edge to his voice. “Live in her shadow. Play lapdog to the universal if you must. You’re just like your mother—a slave to someone else. Some of us prefer to stand on our own two feet.”

As Mack was wearing bright yellow flippers when he said this, the remark would have been funny if it had not bothered Col so badly

“You’re so blind, Dad. Mom’s not a slave. The gorgon’s amazing.”

“The expert now, are you? What has your mom been telling you?”

Col said nothing; he didn’t want to share his secret visit to Snake Hollow with Mack of all people. He started the engine and pushed it into top gear so that it whined with an angry hum, jerking the boat into
motion. The two Clamworthys returned to Hescombe Harbor sitting at opposite ends of the boat.

8
Inheritance

C
onnie decided that breakfast was the best moment to broach the subject of a visit to the abbey, as Hugh would be there. She waited until her aunt had satisfied her hunger with several rounds of toast before taking the plunge.

“I’ve been wondering, Aunt,” she began.

“Yes?” Godiva was instantly suspicious.

“You mentioned something about the Lionhearts being an old family—merchants, I think you said.”

Godiva smiled. This was a safe topic.

“Indeed. I’m glad you’re taking an interest in them.”

“Uncle Hugh said they were sailors, too.”

Hugh rustled his newspaper. “That’s right, my dear—it goes with the territory, you might say—oldest son in the warehouse, younger in the shipping business. Shocking
number of them lost at sea, of course—those sailing ships may be beautiful, but they were treacherous.”

Connie wondered fleetingly how many of her ancestors had fallen foul of the Kraken on their voyages, but knew better than to speak this thought aloud.

“I’d like to see their memorials in the abbey. Would it be okay if I went this morning?”

Godiva sniffed, trying to scent the hitch.

“Perhaps Uncle Hugh could come with me and show me around a bit?”

“Delighted, my dear. I have a favorite tomb I’d like to take you to—remember, Godiva, Charles Lionheart’s one under the south window?”

Godiva smiled at her brother. “Of course, I remember, Hugh. We could hardly tear you away from it when you were a boy. Yes, you go and show that to Connie.”

Hugh, with old fashioned gallantry, offered his great-niece his arm as they crossed the Abbey Close a few minutes before noon.

“Are you managing all right, Connie?” he asked once they were out of sight of Godiva. “I know my sister can be a bit fierce but she means well.”

Connie said nothing.

“It’s just that you’re looking a bit peaked. I was beginning to worry. She said you had to go through this to be cured. I hope you understand.”

“I’m not ill, Uncle.”

He glanced at her sideways. “You probably don’t see it like that. I understand. Who understands better? I came from a whole family of people who had only a vague connection with sanity—my sister Sybil was completely…” He checked himself. “I loved her all the same. It was terrible what happened to that nice young man of hers.”

There weren’t many visitors in the abbey that morning. Sunlight streamed in through the round south window, staining the floor with rich splashes of color. Connie walked forward and stood in the center of the ring. She looked up. The vast circular window was in the shape of a compass—it was breathtakingly blatant—here for everyone to see.

“Lovely, isn’t it,” said Hugh, rubbing his hands. “They say it stands for the ring of eternity—the snake with its tail in its mouth. The compass is a parable of how the heart leads us to our Maker.”

But it’s also about me, thought Connie. Someone in the family knew what the symbol meant—they must’ve. “Who paid for it to be put here?” she asked lightly.

“The couple in this tomb—this is what I really wanted to show you.”

Hugh beckoned her over to a marble sarcophagus. The sides were decorated with images of the sea—ships in full sail, mermaids, dolphins, and fish. The lid was covered by
a carving of the compass. Connie bent over to read the inscription.

Here lies Charles Henry Benjamin Lionheart,
beloved husband and father. Born 1670.
Departed this life 1742. “The Sea calleth him home.”
And also his relict, Suzanna Caldicott Lionheart,
a universal mother to us all. Born 1682.
Died 1743. She encompassed every virtue
.

“Very nice, isn’t it?” said Hugh, touching the lid affectionately, taking her stunned silence for admiration of the stone-cutter’s craft. “Never have been able to track down the quotation—probably from the Bible.”

Or from his company. Charles was a companion to the mermaids, Connie was sure of it.

“Bit over the top about his widow, though. Every virtue? Sounds pretty awful to me,” he continued.

Suzanna Caldicott—her great-great—Connie didn’t know how many “greats”—grandmother.

She had already begun to learn from Suzanna, thanks to that book in the library, not realizing she had inherited her gift. No wonder Suzanna’s old house was full of the universal’s symbol!

“If you don’t mind, Uncle, I think I’ll just stay here for a moment. I want to think.”

Hugh smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “You do
that. I’ll toddle off and see if I can buy you a postcard of the tomb.”

Connie sat cross-legged in the middle of the compass reflection. She hadn’t forgotten that she was here to meet Col, but she also hadn’t expected that the trip would prove such an eye-opener. Well, if hearing other creatures in your head was madness, as Godiva claimed, she now knew that the insane streak ran deep in the family. But she wasn’t mad—Godiva was, to shut herself off from the family inheritance.

This was how Col found Connie, sitting in the middle of her symbol, lost in thought. Multi-colored lights danced magically in her hair. He was almost afraid to break the spell.

“Connie?” He knelt beside her.

“Col!” She reached out and held his hand fast in hers. “Look, my sign. It’s in my blood!”

He looked up and whistled. “That’s pretty cool. I’ve never noticed before.”

“I don’t think anyone but us knows what it really means—they all think it’s here because the Lionhearts were sailors. But she was a universal.” Connie nodded at the tomb.

“Who?

“Suzanna Caldicott Lionheart—she’s in the library register.”

“Wow.”

“I’ll bet you anything she probably had weird eyes and funny hair like me, too.”

“Probably.” Col smiled and ruffled Connie’s black mop of hair. “How’re things?”

She grimaced. “Terrible.”

Yeah, she did look bad, thought Col. She had dark shadows under her eyes, and she was very pale.

“I’m missing everyone—particularly you and Argand.” Connie glanced over to the bookstall where her greatuncle was just paying for his purchases. “I haven’t got long, but Col, can you do me a favor?”

He spread his hands wide. “Anything.”

“Can you bring Argand up to Mallins Wood this weekend—Saturday night around nine?”

“Why?”

“I’m going to try and slip out. I don’t think either Argand or I can bear being apart much longer.”

“But why the wood?”

“I think it’s the last place on Earth my aunt will want to go to look for me.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Maybe not, but I have my suspicions about her.”

“Dr. Brock said he knew her.”

Connie nodded. “I bet she knows a lot of them—Mr. Masterson, your grandmother. Ask them about her for me, won’t you? I think it’ll help if I knew.

“Knew what?”

“What it is she’s running away from.”

A packet of postcards fell into Connie’s lap.

“And who’s this young man?” asked Hugh.

“A friend from school,” Connie supplied quickly. “He’s got a boat.”

“Really? What kind?”

As Col began a detailed discussion of
Water Sprite
’s specifications with Hugh, Connie rose to her feet. Col winked at her—sealing his promise to meet her as she asked.

“We’d better get back,” broke off Hugh, checking his watch. “I promised I’d not keep you more than an hour. Nice to meet you, Col.”

“And you, Mr. Lionheart.”

“See you around,” called Connie over her shoulder.

“Yeah, see you,” answered Col, watching her until she disappeared back into the lodge.

Col called by Dr. Brock’s house the next day to ask permission to take Argand up to Mallins Wood. He found Dr. Brock stoking a big bonfire at the end of his long, narrow cottage garden. The hedges were full of bright red and orange flowers as if they, too, were burning.