Updrift (29 page)

Gabe was surprised too.
I didn’t mean to. What did you see?

You faded from sight. You disappeared for nearly three seconds
.

Gabe retreated into himself again, but only a little, and watched John’s reaction.

What are you thinking?
Now I can see you, but I have no sense of you
.

Interesting
, Gabe thought.
Let’s go back
. They swam toward the house. Gabe felt a dim spark of hope and was inspired to explore this ability further, but in private.

Over the next several days, he experimented with cloaking and diligently practiced all he could in terms of projection and withdrawal. Counter-intuitively for a siren, he found the exercise a tremendous relief, since every interaction for him during that time was a nearly unbearable mixture of raw pain—both his and everyone else’s. And had others detected his disbelief, he would have attracted even more attention and concern. Cloaking allowed him to escape this overbearing scrutiny and consider his thoughts without censure. More than the support of his community, this insulation helped him avoid dissolution, he knew.

He could not accept Kate was dead, because evidence of her death simply wasn’t in him as it should be. Which meant his senses were on constant alert now, always searching outward for evidence of her, even in sleep, which he never fully achieved any longer. Her disappearance was torturing him, he knew, not the death he could not truly feel. It was her distance from him that he could not tolerate. He could not, did not, shut off his ranging, raging effort to locate her.

John questioned Carmen and Michael when they got back to the house on a possible link between cloaking and grief. They didn’t know of one. “Cloaking is so rare for us,” Carmen explained. “There haven’t been enough sirens who know how to do it…we just don’t know much about it.” Gabe’s knew they all assumed his disappearance was grief-related, a way to cope. They believed the ability would disappear as he came to accept Kate was gone.

He couldn’t stand to be around Kate’s mother, couldn’t even think about the grief she carried. Cara, in her own way, also disappeared according to John. Everett, John suspected, kept her from being catatonic, since the day-to-day responsibility of caring for their son engaged her at least minimally in life. John was holding Everett when he made this report, and Gabe thought the boy summed up their dilemma perfectly.

“Mama sad,” Everett said gravely. John hugged him close. “Yes, Everett. Mama sad.”

Gabe had to get away. He couldn’t think straight in this swamp of agony, and he didn’t have the strength to overcome his own hurt, much less the hurt everyone around him also vomited on him. He packed a shoulder bag with basic articles and some cash, and he left not exactly sure of his course.

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” he told his parents. “I won’t do anything foolish. I just need to get away and think. I’ll call in.”

As tormented as he felt in the middle of his family’s overwhelming bereavement, he knew he was only trading that torment for loneliness, which would be almost equally unbearable. He rented a duplex in a small town on the coast well north of Griffins Bay and set out to find a dog.

He’d seen a sign for free puppies posted on a telephone pole, written in marker on a piece of cardboard. He strolled down the small main street to the hardware store where the sign directed him. He wasn’t interested in a puppy, but the sign for free dogs when he needed a pet pretty badly seemed fortuitous, and he wasn’t about to spit in the face of providence.

The puppies, three months old and very cute, were corralled in a makeshift pen under an eave at the back of the store. Three adults and several kids relaxed around the dogs, often picking one up to kiss or scratch or cradle it. Gabe admired the pups, with their round tummies and big, clumsy feet but he felt drawn to an older mutt resting dejectedly on the open end of a tailgate to a pickup. He felt everyone’s gaze on him as he approached.

“These are these the free dogs advertised on the sign?” he asked no one in particular.

The oldest boy stood up from by the pen and dusted off his knees. “Yep, and they’re real good dogs,” he said earnestly. Gabe could tell none of the children wanted to give them away.

He smiled at the fledgling salesman and reconsidered the animal on the tailgate. It was medium-sized and of indiscernible origins, although a terrier appeared to have stormed his genealogy somewhere along the line. The dog was in pain, and while he didn’t seem neglected, neither was he exactly well cared for. Gabe scanned the few adults surrounding him as best he could; they were tired, and, as far as he could tell, anxious to be divested of the responsibility of all these animals.

The older dog caught on to his interest and perked up to watch Gabe. Its warm black eyes made a direct appeal, and Gabe felt an immediate affinity for him. “What about this one here?” The dog’s tail thumped tentatively.

A little girl cast a dismissive glance his way before resuming her play with one of the puppies. “He’s lame. Broke his leg a while back, and it just won’t heal.”

“Who’s his owner?” Gabe inquired, at which point one of the adults came forth to talk to him.

The man extended his hand. “Jim Grafton. Missy’s right, this one’s lame. His name is Soley, because all he did as a pup was eat the soles out of all of our shoes.” Jim laughed. “He’s a good dog but his leg really won’t heal.” Gabe guessed the dog had not been taken to a veterinarian. Jim lowered his voice so the kids wouldn’t hear him. “The kindest thing to do would be to put him out of his misery. You might be better off with one of the pups.”

“I’m studying medicine—not veterinary medicine—but I could maybe take a look at Soley’s leg. I need a dog and would prefer one that’s house trained. I don’t suppose Soley is for sale, is he?”

“Well, no, he isn’t. But we have too many animals, as you can see…” Jim trailed off, his silence negating his initial no. “Maybe, if you think you could fix his leg, I wouldn’t charge you for him.”

Gabe rubbed Soley’s neck and gingerly checked his leg, using siren influence to dull any pain. Soley’s tail continued to thump against the truck bed, and he gave Gabe a soulful, trusting regard that put Gabe in good stead with everyone there. Soley was well liked, at least.

He stroked Soley’s head. “What do you think, old boy? Wanna travel with me for a while?” He’d already decided this was the dog for him, and he concentrated to silently entice the dog and the humans in that direction. Soley’s tail thumped more forcefully against the truck and he hoisted himself up to lean against Gabe, straining his face upward for attention.

Jim slapped his thigh. “Well. Would you look at that? He hasn’t been that spry since he broke his leg.”

“Can he walk?”

Soley answered by jumping down stiffly from the truck to trot three-legged around Gabe. He sat obediently at his feet.

Jim conceded Soley to Gabe with a bemused smile. “Appears you’ve got yourself a dog, mister.” Gabe thanked the group before striding away. He called to Soley once, and the dog limped briskly to catch up.

Back at his apartment, he examined Soley’s leg. It hadn’t set properly, and as far as he could tell, the break was causing soft tissue irritation whenever the dog put weight on it. He hunted around the house for something he could use as a splint, finding a wooden paint stirrer. He rummaged through his pack for his first-aid kit and retrieved the gauze and a roll of tape. Then he placed a book for himself on the coffee table by the couch and sat down on one side of it, patting the cushion next to him. Soley jumped up and sank down onto his side.

He stroked the dog to soothe him. “This won’t hurt a bit, I promise.” He smiled at his new companion and then sedated him as only he could. When he was sure the dog was out, he carefully re-broke and set the leg, using the splint, gauze and tape he’d prepared. Keeping his hand on Soley, Gabe lifted his book from the coffee table and settled into the couch to enjoy a good read.

He stayed with him all night, sleeping with his head against the back of the couch and an arm around the dog, who awoke only twice to whimper. In the morning, Gabe carried Soley outside to relieve himself, and then set him back on the couch while he made them each a plate of eggs.

He toasted Soley with his cup of coffee. “You were a good idea.” He sat on the couch again and considered his next course of action, stroking his recovering pet absentmindedly. Today, he would call Xanthe.

* * * *

Kate felt as if she’d stepped into someone else’s body. Everything was about twenty degrees off, from her husband to the people in the castle to the weird, new seclusion of her days. At first, she’d hoped Gabe would explain all the strangeness to her, but when his answers yielded no satisfaction, she chose to examine herself as the likely culprit. It wasn’t anything else she concluded, so it had to be her. Gabe suggested she was compromised because of the pregnancy and because they were in hiding, and that made sense.

Her new appearance also fueled the surreal character of her existence; Gabe had insisted she disguise herself, although why she’d had to do it while no one else did was unclear to her. “Humans are hunting us, Kate, not sirens,” Gabe had told her several times. “We don’t have to hide from each other.” Huh? Her mind was so slow and confused, which didn’t help. Even when she tried, she couldn’t organize her thoughts to express herself as she wanted.

She wasn’t drastically different, Gabe assured her, but the change felt drastic enough. Her golden brown hair was now a deep brunette, and rather than wearing it down or casually back from her face as she was used to, someone came each morning to pin it into a tailored, formal style. The same person applied her make-up, although she’d begged to do this for herself.

“Honestly, I’d feel better if I could do my own grooming, Gabe,” she’d explained as she made her bid for this one, small freedom. “I’ve been doing my own hair since I was eight, and my own make-up since I was fifteen. I’m qualified.” She’d intended this last statement as a joke, but it fell flat.

“It’s just for a while, darling,” Gabe assured her, using what was a new endearment since they’d resumed residency on Shaddox. “Is it such a big thing to do to protect ourselves, protect our baby?”

“Of course, when you put it that way…” she’d conceded.

Not that she didn’t like what she saw. Her eyes, perfectly outlined and shadowed, seemed enormous, and the darker brows gave her a soulful, dramatic affect she wouldn’t have guessed she could pull off. She just wasn’t used to wearing this much make-up.

“You’re not used to wearing
any
,” Gabe teased lightly. Then he’d brushed his mouth against her cheek and whispered huskily in her ear, “You’re gorgeous.”

The gesture confused her, and she regarded at him with eyes full of questions she didn’t feel she could ask. Unlike the very willing Gabe who had been so lost in love with her he couldn’t keep away, this new Gabe hadn’t touched her since they’d come back to Shaddox despite several affectionate advances on her part. This made her tentative and unsure he would pursue intimacy with her even if she offered it, and she now shied away from offering.

*

Peter knew things weren’t ideal but he believed they would be. He too had no alternative but to hope for the best, because he couldn’t undo what he’d done, and he didn’t want to. His feelings remained unchanged; he was certain of Kate, certain of the life they could have, would have, if only she would let go of her old ideals, twist just a little bit the understanding she’d gained of married life in her few short weeks with Gabe.

Their initial days at Shaddox were, intentionally on his part, hazy for Kate, just so he could buy himself a little time to think of what to tell her. She knew her old life had been ripped away from her, but, as yet, she thought their situation was temporary, and she still clung to the belief everything would one day be as it was. Peter stalled, hoping whatever he told her would be easier to accept after she settled in.

During this time, he’d remained mostly euphoric over his success at getting her here, although he found himself not fully prepared to face the reality of his new situation. The day-to-day burden of upholding his pretense wasn’t something he’d considered as he had the preparatory details surrounding Kate’s capture, and the energy involved in keeping up appearances wore on him more than he could have known. His progress thus far, however, combined with his rabid desire for the nurturing he craved overcame any doubts he might have had about the abduction. Rather, he felt doubly anxious to do whatever he could to support his ultimate goal, for their bonding to be complete and whole. He would do nothing to jeopardize this outcome.

Following their first few days at the palace, during which time he essentially kept her sedated, she woke one morning brimming with her natural fire and energy, so buoyant he didn’t have the heart to inhibit her. She’d bounded to the window and thrown back the curtains. She faced him with the light streaming behind her and shed her cotton nightgown. Her skin was pink from sleep, her face sweet and pretty and framed by a halo of golden hair. She smiled at him playfully as she pressed herself against him. “If we’re going to be prisoners here, we may as well enjoy ourselves,” she suggested huskily. Of their own accord, his arms wrapped around her to mold her tightly to him. Her mouth sought his.

Her taste, her emotions, were an elixir more powerful than he could have possibly anticipated, her desire coursing through him with a jolt of raw energy that completely overtook and commanded him for several long seconds. Had her eyes been open, she would have seen him shimmer and appear briefly as someone other than her husband, as his previously impenetrable cloaking abilities slipped in response to her. It was the single most intoxicating experience he’d had in his long life.

Had he been a younger man, he knew, his conscience would have played no part in his subsequent decisions. At first, he kissed her thoroughly, passionately, lost in the heady emanation of her feelings.