Fathom (3 page)

Sean sat down again, a frown on his face. He watched me with those dark eyes. I liked it better when he was just the geeky kid next door, but all of his geekiness had vanished in the last two years. Sometimes he didn’t seem like the same person anymore.

“You think she lost it?”

“I wish.”

“Kira, I’ve read your stuff. You know you’re not getting less than an A in her class.”

But he must not have remembered the assignment. For two months we had been told to write everything in that journal, all of our thoughts and fears and feelings. And I had tried to put in only the good stuff. I was wearing my smiley face on almost every page, but every now and then the truth would slip in. I couldn’t help it.

The truth about my mother and my sister and the ocean that owned all three of us.

Just last night I had stood on the edge of the cliff, watching how the moon glistened off the waves that never stopped rolling in. My toes had gripped the rocky edge and I longed, with every muscle, to push off, to sail through night sky in an unending arc of flesh against midnight.

My heart raced even now as I thought about it.

A smudge of pink frosting ran the length of my index finger. I slid it in my mouth and began to lick it clean. When my finger was still between my lips, I noticed Sean staring at me, like he was nervous or uncomfortable. He stood up and walked over to the plastic slide.

“What is it?” I asked.

He shrugged, looked down at his feet. “Nothing.”

From day one, we had a rule. If one of us said, “nothing,” the other one had to leave him or her alone. That was how we had stayed friends, especially through middle school when he got caught up with the jocks and I temporarily went Goth. So, no way was I going to trespass on his silence. Even though I could see something inside of him—something slightly dangerous and mysterious—that I’d never noticed before.

“You wanna go for a walk on the beach?” I asked. A distraction might get his mind off whatever was bothering him.

“Sure.”

In a moment, we were climbing down the rugged stairway cut in the cliff, wind whipping around us, a hundred-foot drop teasing us on the right, salt spray stinging our skin. And then, when we reached the shoreline, we were running and chasing each other, shouting over the thundering surf.

And for a time, all was right with my world.

Caleb:

The time of the Burning came sooner than I expected. Now a dense heat hung on my flesh and I couldn’t think clearly. Already we’d had to stop our journey twice because of vicious fighting within our own group. Dylan and Patrick wore bite marks on their neck and arms, and right now, my sister was prying a handful of Sorcha’s hair from Mare’s fist. On top of that, arguments about who would lead our group down the coast of North America had echoed throughout the night when we stopped to rest on a deserted beach.

“We’re going the wrong way—”

“The Burning will be over by the time we get there—”

“Why can’t we stop at Carrickard or Shankill for supplies—”

Ethan was easily the right choice to lead us, he was the eldest and the strongest and he’d already made this journey before. But Riley—a girl my own age—challenged him right up to the end. On her arm she wore the blasphemous tattoos of our sworn enemy, the Na Fir Ghorm, and her hair had been mysteriously shorn. Thick short patches of black hair spiked around her face. Everything about her seemed dangerous, especially the delicate bone structure that spoke of royal blood.

“We need to go faster,” she said, eyes glaring.

Whenever Riley spoke, my sister clenched her jaw.

“We’re going as fast as we can,” Ethan said.

The rest of us crouched around a small fire, sorting through the pile of fish Lynn had caught in her net. With a flash of her knife, she tossed us large chunks of raw perch and mackerel, which we immediately devoured.

“Can’t you tell we’re being followed?” Riley continued, frowning as Patrick and Dylan chewed, bits of fish dribbling down their chins. “As if that’s not bad enough, you two had to spill your own blood in the water.”

“They couldn’t help it,” I said, my mouth full.

“The beast is right behind us,” she said. “I can feel it.”

Both Mare and Sorcha glanced back toward the water, fear on their faces. We all knew about the Hinquememem—the dreadful creature that hunted my kind whenever we dared to set foot on land.

“We should leave,” Mare said, standing. “We can rest when we get there.”

I didn’t want to say anything, but Mare was right. This grueling journey would either make us stronger or kill us—it was an ancient, instinctive process that purified our race. Whether we ended up with a life-long mate like my sister and Ethan or not, this was what we were driven to do.

Ethan sighed, long and heavy. “Back in the ocean then. We’ll stop at another beach at midday. Remember to stay in formation and,” he paused to glance at Patrick and Dylan, “if you two start fighting again, I’ll send you home.”

The wind buffeted the shore as all eight of us nodded in reluctant agreement. Together we stood and headed back toward the sea, diving as one beneath the surface of the water, seeking a hidden current that would take us south, past the underwater cities of Baile na Bhur and Dunpatrick. I knew I should have been weary, but I wasn’t. Like Riley, I secretly longed to swim faster and harder—but not because I feared what lurked in the ocean deep.

I was eager for what waited at the end of our journey.

I longed to see that cliff and those rock-carved stairs and Kira Callahan walking along that barrier between earth and sea and sky.

For years I had listened to my mother telling and retelling the legends. I knew that some of the stories—like Kira’s—weren’t finished yet. They had mysterious endings that could only be written in the sand, then washed away by the tide.

Her story was like mine.

It was still being written.

•

Like an oil slick, pheromones shimmered on the water around us as we swam. In preparation for this journey, we had gorged on fish for two weeks. Mating season was here and with it, a heavy dose of hormones charged through every one of us. All of our parents and grandparents and the Elders had surrounded us on the shores of Thorne Bay when we left, singing songs of farewell, reciting poems of warning and throwing wreaths made of flowers in the water.

Saying goodbye to them had been the hardest part of the journey, for we knew that some of us might not return.

Now, at last, the sun hung just above the horizon, a golden disc that turned the water to blood, and there up ahead of us loomed the shore.

Our migration was almost over.

But like Riley, I feared that we weren’t alone.

For the past several miles, I had sensed movement in the currents beneath us—heavy leaden tremors that kept pace with our every stroke. I tried to ignore it, convinced myself that it was just my imagination. I wondered if the others noticed it, but if they did, none of them mentioned anything. And now we had arrived sooner than expected, hungry and weary. One by one we stumbled and collapsed onto the narrow beach.

This was the time when a predator could most easily attack.

While the rest of us were still catching our breath, Ethan stood and shielded his brow against the setting sun with one hand.

“This is the wrong beach,” he said.

All four of the girls—Lynn, Riley, Mare and Sorcha—moaned, low and soft. We needed to rest and eat. We needed clothes, but if we’d landed at the wrong location then there would be no supplies nearby.

“Are you certain?” I asked.

He nodded.

“The rest of you stay here. Hide behind the rocks,” he said. “Caleb and I will find our landing spot and meet with our familiar. Then we’ll bring back the supplies—”

“No,” Riley argued, hands on her hips, her short black hair ruffled by the sea breeze. “
I
should go with you, it’s
my
familiar that will be taking care of everything.”

I stood beside Ethan, watched the tension building between them. He glanced at the Na Fir Ghorm tattoos on her arm, suspicion in his gaze.

“You’re not the leader on this trip,” he snapped, unusually angry. Lynn rested a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t stop. “I can’t help wondering why someone affiliated with our enemy would have her own human familiar. Guardians are passed down, from one family member to the next, but no one came to bid you farewell when we left on this journey.”

Riley’s fists clenched. “You don’t know a thing about me—”

Then a sound like the earth was being ripped in two exploded behind us. The ocean swelled, waves rose up—twice as high as normal—and Lynn screamed a high-pitched warning cry.

It was here, and now there was nowhere to run on this narrow beach.

“Get back!” I cried.

“I told you!” Riley yelled. “I warned you that we were being followed—”

“Run!” I said, pushing her and Mare over the rocks toward higher ground.

But Lynn stood in the same place, feet planted—as brave-hearted as our father and just as ready for battle—a warning cry on her lips, her skin turning dark from the force, her long blonde braids like streamers in the wind. Left hand wrapped around her net, knife clutched in her right hand, she leaned toward the approaching danger.

Meanwhile, Sorcha had frozen at the edge of the cliff, terror on her face, and Ethan shoved her away from the shoreline.

Riley continued to cry out, “It’s going to kill us!” Fear laced her words.

Behind us, the water sharpened, the spray turned into long tentacles, the foam transformed into a towering treelike body that lumbered out onto the shore, awkward and swaying.

Just like Riley had claimed, the beast had been following us all along; it had caught our scent—an easy thing to do during the Burning when our pheromones spilled into the sea with each and every stroke. It had been waiting for us to set foot on dry ground at nightfall, to break the rules of sea and earth.

It was the Hinquememem.

We scattered then, all of us running in different directions, half of us scrambling toward the sky on the rocky cliffs, the other half running up the beach. My sister held her ground, then suddenly charged toward the beast, as if she was strong enough to overpower it. She cast her net and it spun through the air, but the creature swung to the left. The net fell in a tangled pile on the sand.

“No,” I cried at her. “You cannot win!”

But either she couldn’t hear me over the crashing surf or she didn’t believe me.

Both Ethan and I ran toward her.

The beast couldn’t get her, it just couldn’t.

A wall of water came down upon us and I heard a thundering growl, so loud it made the ground quake. The sand shifted beneath my feet, a heavy seaweed stench filled the air and a long slippery tentacle reached out toward Lynn. She screamed as it curled around her arm, forcing her to drop the knife. I was almost there, my right hand reaching out toward her, fingers ready to pry the tentacle loose. I was going to shove her behind me until I stood between her and the beast. I was going to make sure she ran toward the cliff and safety.

The wave crashed down.

It forced all three of us—Lynn, Ethan and I—to our knees; it threatened to suck us out into the ocean. The others latched onto nearby rocks and held on, muscles trembling from the force.

And somehow Ethan rode the wave, he let it pull him closer to the beast until he wedged himself between my sister and me.

A roar like the end of the world echoed in front of us.

My sister fell toward me, as if something or someone had pushed her.

I caught her in my arms and dragged her across the sand.

The water retreated and the sea became calm again. As if none of this had ever happened.

But Ethan was gone.

I cried out his name, over and over.

I saw the beast then—already far away from us—half of its enormous body submerged beneath the waves, the other half a mass of swirling tentacles, its snarling mouth open and filled with dagger-sharp teeth. And one of its thick rubbery arms was wrapped around the waist of my sister’s betrothed, Ethan, squeezing him so tight he couldn’t cry out, all the while dragging him farther and farther away from us.

“No!” I yelled a protest, plunging into the foaming waves after them. I didn’t get far before the Hinquememem disappeared beneath the ocean’s surface and strong arms pulled me back to the shore. Dylan and Patrick and Riley had all latched onto me and I couldn’t get away. I struggled, wrestling against them, shouting Ethan’s name over and over until finally I lay on the sand, my heart ripped from my chest. I looked up and saw Lynn, collapsed on the shore, beating her fists on the rocks, her cry so loud it burned through my skull.

For an instant our eyes met, but the pain I saw inside was too great and I had to look away. This was all my fault. I was the reason Ethan came on this journey.

And now my sister was paying the price.

Kira:

The sun glistened on the horizon, painting a blood red stripe across the Pacific. It set the distant cliffs ablaze and, for an instant, it scorched our grass like dancing tongues of flame. Then the sun set and in its place, strings of white Christmas lights zapped on, strung throughout the trees in my yard, tiny stars that sparkled against a darkening sky. If I turned to the right I would see our little house, yellow squares of light spilling out all the windows. Gram and Sean and my cousins were carrying food out on platters, while my dad guarded the grill—just like he guards the TV remote. If I turned to the left I would see the edge of the world. A white picket fence that was supposed to keep everyone in our tiny kingdom safe. A few feet beyond that, a grassy knoll and a hundred-foot precipice. Sky and sea and a horizon that went on forever. In reality, we had one of the best views in Crescent Moon Bay.

It just didn’t look that pretty to me anymore.

Gram sat across from me at the picnic table, her dark hair streaked with white. She was beautiful when she was young—I’ve seen the photos. Black and white pictures of her as a young girl back in Kenmare Bay, Ireland. My favorite shot showed her at the beach with Gramps when they were dating, both of them climbing on rocks and surrounded by a colony of seals. Gram’s head was lifted to the sun and I could almost hear the laughter in her voice.