A Twist in Time (29 page)

The kid came up the hatch dragging the big black dog behind him, rope around his neck.

“Get him over here,” the father slurred. “Teach him to chew socks.”

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The dog knew what was up. Maybe he had seen this before, too. Or felt it. He sat down and the kid had to drag him over, the dog pulling and shaking to get out of the rope noose.

“Damned dog.”

The dog whined and cringed, pulling against the rope as he rocked back on his haunches. The boy had gone flat and emotionless. He held the rope about halfway down its length so the dog had nowhere to go. The sound of the dog’s nails scrabbling against he wooden slats of the deck mingled with his whining. The man raised the handle, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

Lucy wasn’t going to sit here and watch a dog get hurt. “Hey, stop that” she yelled. The handle paused. She started forward.

Galen was around her and off at a run. “Stay here,” he growled.

“No, Galen!” He was in no shape to take on a guy like that. She hurried after Galen.

The father raised the handle again. Galen leaped aboard the boat and strode over to catch the handle with his left hand before it came down on the dog. He wrenched it away easily, holding it by the hook end, as his adversary had. The kid looked like Martians had just landed.

The father staggered back. “What the
hell
do you think you’re doing?”

“You will not beat my
hund.
”

“Not your hound. Not your business. Get off my boat.”

“I take my
hund
now.” Galen held out the hand of his bad shoulder to the kid for the rope.

“Like hell you will.” The man straightened up. The shock had sobered him. He wasn’t swaying anymore. Oh, this was bad. The kid took a step back, eyes frightened.

“Galen,” she called, not knowing quite what she wanted to say but sure she had to stop what might happen here.

He ignored her. Instead he just tossed the fishhook into the air and caught it by the handle, so the hook end was available for business. He grinned, his eyes glittering. A kind of sureness radiated from him. He swung the hook backward without looking and put it through a port in the cabin. Glass shattered. Shards tinkled to the deck. “You come now. We fight.”

The guy’s eyes shifted around, looking for a weapon. He thought about reaching for a pole lying on the deck. Lucy saw his changing mind reflected in his face. He held up his hands, palms out.

“Dude, take the damned dog. He’s a shit-ass dog anyway. We’re better off without him.”

Galen looked to the kid. Lucy saw the fear in the kid’s eyes replaced by sadness. He handed over the rope. “He’s a good dog, purebred and all,” the kid whispered. “He just chews socks.”

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The dog didn’t move. Galen didn’t pull on the rope. He just held it. Keeping one eye on the father, Galen spoke to the kid. “You are like him?” He indicated the father with his head.

“No,” the kid said hastily. Then a spasm crossed his face. “I don’t know.”

Galen nodded. “I understand. How many years you have?”

“I’m seventeen.”

“Enough.” Galen nodded to the hatch. “Get clothes. You go from here. Or not. You choose.”

She’d never taught him the word “choose,” so it must be a lucky confluence of the language.

Who knew how he was spelling it in his mind. Galen’s accent was a little thick, but the kid got the idea.

“Boy, you leave now, I’ll see you in hell before I let you back.”

The boy gave a frightened glance from his father to Galen.

“Make a new life,” Lucy said from the dock. “I’ll give you money.”

The boy’s eyes gleamed for a moment. Then the light in them dimmed. “Haven’t got nobody but Dad. When the money runs out, what am I gonna do, work at some McDonald’s?”

“Go to school,” Lucy suggested. She couldn’t take him in when they were on the run. Could she? She’d be putting him in danger. . . . But she could see him wavering.

“I ain’t much for school.”

“We’ll help you. You can stay with us.” How could she not offer?

But she lost him. He frowned and looked away. “I guess I know who I am.”

Lucy knew then. He couldn’t see any other life but what he had. He was trapped.

“Good boy,” the father said. “You don’t need no dog. What I was thinking to let you keep a dog on a boat anyways I’ll never know.” He turned to Galen. “Now git off my boat.”

Galen looked around at the boat. It was old, but that wasn’t the problem. It was not well kept, unlike most others in the little marina. Old rags were scattered around the deck. The fiberglass was porous from never being sealed, and greasy. The sails flapped where they hadn’t been properly stowed. “This boat does not . . . belong here. You sail it to another place.”

The guy started to protest, then eyed the fishhook. He swallowed. “Been meanin’ to go over to Richmond anyway. Slips are cheaper there.”

Lucy doubted that, but it didn’t matter.

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“You go by dark,” Galen said to the father. He glanced to the boy and spoke carefully. “You come to that boat,” here he pointed, “if you choose other street before he go. Goes.”

The kid nodded, but Lucy didn’t hold out a shred of hope.

“I keep this,” Galen said, hefting the fishhook. He leaned down, slipped the rope over the dog’s head, and tossed it onto the pile of rags by the hatch. What was he doing? That dog was going to bolt for the Canadian border after how he must have been treated. Galen backed to the edge of the boat and stepped over the side to the dock.

“Come,
hund.
”

To Lucy’s surprise the dog got up, limping a little, and managed to leap over the line railing. He touched Galen’s hanging right hand with his nose. “Good
hund,
” Galen whispered. Then he lifted his gaze to the father. “You go . . . now.”

Lucy’s heart thudded in her chest. Galen took her arm and turned her up the dock. The hard guy five boats down looked on impassively. Lucy craned around. The dog was, miraculously, trotting behind them, though his gait was a little off.

“What do you mean, sayin’ you aren’t like me, you little creep?” the father hissed at the boy.

“Now see what you done with that dog you had to have.”

“Sorry, Dad,” the kid mumbled. “Real sorry.”

“Now you take the truck over to Richmond. I’ll motor over, moor in deep water. Call me when you got a slip. It better be cheap. And don’t be long about it.”

Lucy hoped the kid took the dilapidated truck and drove to Oklahoma or Wisconsin or somewhere, but she didn’t hold out much hope. Maybe he couldn’t help being like his dad after all. Galen would say the Norns had already woven the kid’s fate. But she didn’t believe it. He had a choice. He just wouldn’t take it. But
did
he have a choice? There was nobody to show him life could work any other way. As she and Galen walked down to their own boat, the kid trotted up to the parking lot, brushing at his cheeks. She and Galen stepped onto the
Camelot.
She paused, in spite of the first pelting drops of rain, and watched the truck roar out of the parking lot. Then she unlocked the hatch and scooted below, just in time to avoid the downpour. Galen came down the ladder and beckoned to the dog, who hesitated for a long instant, then plunged into the cabin.

Galen felt better all around. His thigh was throbbing and his shoulder was even worse. But that was “okay,” as Lucy would say. He felt more like a man.

The
hund
sniffed his way to the aft cabin, exploring. The creature looked like a black, long-haired wolf, but more elegant, with feathered tail, hindquarters, and front legs and a ruff around his neck. He was young, not filled out in the chest yet. He was much like the dogs Galen had as a child. His mother had gotten the first from a great
wicce
in Suthfolc named Britta. He

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had grown up with that dog’s progeny, a long line of intelligent companions. They were tricksters and thieves, fiercely protective, easily trained to herd sheep and cattle or guard sleeping babies and grain harvests. Was this dog descended from those ancestors so long ago?

Only the Norns could know for certain.

“What are we going to do with a dog on such a small boat?” Lucy asked, hands on her hips. She was more bemused than exasperated.

“This is a big boat, Lucy. The
hund
will live here well. We have much food. We will take him off the boat to shit.”

She rolled her eyes. “I might have known that word would be the same.”

He raised his brows.

She sighed. “I know. What else could we do?” A small smile drew her lips up. “You were fearsome. Mighty.” Then she frowned. “But you could have been wounded again. Very stupid.”

He liked the fact that she thought him brave. “That man wound me? No, Lucy.” And she worried for him. That was good too. The
hund
came up and nosed Galen’s hand.

Galen went down on one knee and took the
hund
’s ruff in both hands. Lucy and the others had called him a dog. Galen looked directly into the dog’s face. He got concerned, started to struggle, and then relaxed as though he were melting butter. “You are safe now,” Galen rumbled. “You are my
hund.
” He glanced to Lucy behind him. “And you are Lucy’s dog.”

The beast’s tail gave a little thump on the floor. Galen’s smile broadened. This was a good dog.

The moment broke and Galen gave him a pat and rose.

“He came right with you,” Lucy said. “Why didn’t he run for the hills?”

“
De rs
are my friends, always.”

“
De r
? Dog? No, you call them hounds.”

“
Swine, hors, lamb,
all these.”

“Oh. Animals. Beasts.”

He nodded. Beasts liked him. They came to him naturally. “You will name this dog, Lucy. He be your friend.”

“Will be,” she corrected, looking doubtful. “Well, let’s get him some water. He probably has fleas.”

“No fleas.”