Seaborne (11 page)

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Authors: Katherine Irons

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy, #Chick-Lit, #Mythology

BOOK: Seaborne
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So long as this scourge prowled the Maine coast, it wasn’t safe to bring Claire into the water. He should go. He’d known it was best for both of them. Still, he hated the thoughts of leaving the beaches open for such scum. He remembered the face of the lobster fisherman’s son he’d saved from drowning. A boy like that, a child who’d grown up as much in the water as on the land, would think nothing of swimming at night with his friends.
It wasn’t his fight. He’d saved the boy once. It wasn’t his responsibility to hang around and chase every flesh-eater away from the coast of North America. He was getting soft.
The truth was that he wasn’t cured of Claire’s enchantment. He couldn’t break free of it until he’d possessed her … until he’d drunk enough of her charms that his thirst was satisfied.
He was here to count lobster traps, but even Poseidon would approve of his straying from his mission to hunt down the essence of evil. Alex and Orion and their friends had been eager for a fight the day he’d left his father’s palace. If he summoned them, they could do a little hunting of their own. Once the horde had been killed or driven off, then he’d be free to seek out Claire again—providing he still wanted to. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he was simply bored, and a little manly sword play would cure his fever for a human woman. It wouldn’t hurt to try.
He glanced back at Claire’s beach. Still empty. Nothing moved on it but a single willet scratching the sand for crabs. “Maybe I’ll be free of you,” he murmured as he turned to swim away, but in his heart of hearts, he knew differently. Whatever hold she had on him, she’d not loose his soul so easily.
Claire’s physical therapist had just left and she was wheeling her chair toward the kitchen, intending to finally get a cup of hot coffee when she heard the phone ringing.
“It’s for you,” Mrs. Godwin called.
“Who is it?”
“A man. He didn’t give his name. Do you want to talk to him?”
“Yes, I’ll take it.”
Maybe it’s Morgan
, Claire thought.
The housekeeper handed her the receiver. “I’ll be in the laundry if you need me.”
“Hello?” Claire said.
“Claire?”
Her heart sank. Justin.
“Are you there?”
“Yes, Justin. I’m here.”
“How are you? Did you get my flowers?”
Claire groaned. “The roses?”
“Yes, yellow ones. I remember they were your favorites.”
Jonquil daffodils,
Claire thought.
Yellow, but not roses. Jonquils.
“Thank you, Justin. They’re lovely.”
“What are you finding to do up there in the wilds of Maine?”
She sighed. “I do a lot of water skiing.”
“Water skiing?” There was a pause and then he laughed. “Same old Claire.”
“Absolutely.” She was disappointed. She’d wanted the flowers to be from Morgan, or from Richard, if not Morgan. She’d thought maybe her father had regretted their argument and was trying to apologize,
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
“It’s about the only thing that hasn’t changed.”
“I’ve changed,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of time to think.”
“Both of us,” she agreed. She wondered if he wanted to borrow money.
“Your father’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine, Justin. Really. It was sweet of you to send the flowers, but I’m just in the middle of—”
“Wait, don’t hang up on me. It took a lot for me to get the courage to call you. It’s only fair you let me finish.”
“I’m not sure what—”
“Claire, I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I need to see you.”
“Justin, we don’t—”
“Please, Claire. I know I have no reason to hope that you’d be able to forgive me, but I still love you. And … I want us to be together again.”
CHAPTER 11
“Y
ou want us to get back together?” Claire was in shock—they hadn’t talked in months. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’ve never been more serious,” Justin insisted. “I realize how much pain I caused you.”
Claire felt her stomach clench. “Do you?” She’d thought once that she loved this man, but that had been a long time ago. She’d been wrong. Now, she didn’t feel anything for him. She didn’t love him. She didn’t hate him. She just didn’t care about him at all. “What about Inga?”
It all seemed like a dream now, but the scene was still clear in her mind. She’d taken an early flight home, walked into the apartment, and caught Justin and his receptionist in the act.
She could remember seeing articles of Inga’s clothing scattered across the floor … the scent of her own perfume thick in the air … and the unmistakable rasping moan of her husband’s climax.
“Are you pretending that you didn’t screw her in our bed?”
“It was a mistake.”
“A damned big one,” Claire declared. “She was wearing my favorite negligée.”
“I’m not denying that I did something stupid, but …” His voice took on the charming tone he used on women patients. “It’s over, Claire.” Now Justin sounded sheepish. “Inga and Joe have reconciled.”
“My sympathies.”
“No, it’s not like that. We broke up years ago.”
“Really.”
“Really. She went back to her husband, and I understand they’ve had another baby.”
“My sympathies to the baby. Having a slut for a mother.” Claire was in no mood to be generous.
“Don’t be bitter. I take full responsibility for what happened.”
“I would hope so. I wasn’t the one who cheated, you did.” She was beginning to wonder what had prompted this bizarre phone call. Surely her father wasn’t at the bottom of this. He wouldn’t dare invade her privacy this way, by talking with her ex. Would he?
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I admit that I destroyed our marriage by being unfaithful. Now, I’m trying to mend it.”
“It’s a little late, for both of us,” she said. “Considering my physical condition, I’m hardly your type anymore.”
Justin had always favored athletic women. He wasn’t adverse to nice breasts, but he preferred a tight rump and legs that wouldn’t quit. Inga had possessed the entire package, plus a husband, and a four-year-old son. Her sport was tennis, and she looked smashing in tiny white shorts.
“Think about it, will you? I’d be willing to go to marriage counseling.”
“There is no marriage. We’re divorced. Remember?”
“We could correct that.”
“Please. We made each other miserable, Justin. You cheated on me, and I suspect that Inga wasn’t the first.”
She’d been so young when she married him. He was twelve years older and divorced. He’d swept her off her feet with his wit, his sophistication, and his willingness to discuss anything from politics to first-century Roman sculpture. She’d been so smitten that she’d been unrealistic as to who he really was. What he was.
Claire thought she was well over the sense of failure the divorce had brought but, hearing his voice again, she realized the scar was still tender.
“Maybe I had to lose you to know what you meant to me. I’m human, with human failings, but I love you. If you’ll come back, we could make a good life together.”
Her mouth was dry. She was the one with the head injury. How could he think she was so stupid as to fall for his lies again? “What’s in it for you, other than my money? You’re a man who likes sex, a lot of it, and I’m not capable of having a normal marital relationship—unless you like making love to a—”
“Don’t be crude. You were always a lady. It’s one of the things that I always admired about you. And I don’t need your money. My practice is doing quite well.”
She exhaled softly. “I walked away from the accident with millions, and that was after my attorneys got theirs. If we can’t have normal sex, and you don’t need money, what’s in it for you?”
“I love you. And you may not always be paralyzed. There are new developments in medical science every—”
“This isn’t a movie, Justin. The heroine doesn’t rise from her wheelchair and dance into the sunset. As long as I live, I’ll be in this chair.” Except in my dreams, she thought, smiling faintly. If this was reality, who needed it?
“We could have a good life together. Plays … museums … music. We could travel. We could adopt children, as many as you’d like. You always wanted to be a mother.”
Sharp pain stabbed through her. “Low blow.”
“I’m serious. What does it matter if you can’t give birth? It’s a messy process, and lots of children need families.”
“As if. What agency is going to give a child to a woman in a wheelchair?”
“You’re wrong. Many physically challenged people adopt. It’s not as though the child wouldn’t have a full–time father, nurses, nannies. Do you think those Hollywood stars change diapers or get up in the night when baby is teething? We can hire all the help we need—the finest.”
“Thanks for the offer, but …” She wondered again if her father had talked to him, if he had warned Justin of the dirty details of her life, the lost moments in time, the pain, the mind-numbing meds. Not to mention her waking dreams when she imagined she swam with a beautiful man at fifty fathoms below sea level.
“Tell me you’ll at least consider it?”
“No, I won’t. Find someone else. Maybe Inga’s ready for another go-round. Maybe you could make your perfect life with her.”
“Claire, please.”
“Thank you for the roses, but my answer is no. Goodbye, Justin.” He was still talking when she pushed the button, cutting him off. She laid the hand set on the table and stared at it, letting her gaze drift out of focus.
She’d meant to go down to the beach, but she was suddenly weary. Instead, she took the elevator to the second floor and returned to her room. She wasn’t fooled by her ex’s sudden declaration of love, and whatever his reasons for saying he wanted her, she didn’t want him back.
Justin probably knew to the penny how much she’d been awarded after the accident. No matter how successful he was, he’d covet her fortune. The chances of him remaining faithful in a sexless marriage were somewhat less than the chances of her winning the lottery without buying a ticket. And even if his cheating wasn’t an issue, she’d lost respect for him. Justin was nothing more than an educated bag of wind.
As Claire pushed open the elevator door, she saw Jackie polishing the big hallway mirror. Jackie glanced up and removed her headset, spilling pop music into the passageway. “Sorry. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks.” Claire smiled. “But you can take those roses home with you when you go.”
“You don’t want them?” Jackie dropped her dust rag and bottle of glass cleaner into her divided bucket with the assortment of sponges, sprays, and brushes. Her supplies were as tidy as she was.
“I started sneezing after you left them. I think my allergies are starting up again.”
“Are you sure? I could put them downstairs in the entrance hall.”
“No, you take them. You like roses, don’t you?”
“Love them.”
“Good, enjoy.” Claire pushed open her bedroom door. She wasn’t fool enough to fall for Justin’s line, but it was impossible to forget what he’d said about adopting children. As usual, he’d honed in on her soft spot.
Since she was small, she’d wanted to be a mom, someday. Secretly, knowing she was adopted, she’d wanted someone who looked like her, someone who was part of her. After her marriage to Justin, things became chaotic, and it never seemed the right time for her to get pregnant. And after the accident, it wasn’t possible.
Over time, Claire had come to believe that never being a mother was the worst loss she’d suffered … worse than losing the use of her legs … of never riding again. Eventually, her father would grow old and die, leaving her alone with no one but paid staff. Maybe she was just being selfish, but that wasn’t an existence she liked to contemplate.
Claire went to the French doors, opened them, and rolled out onto the balcony. Her beach was hidden by the cliff. But she could see the ocean and several wooded islands in the distance. The water looked a deep blue, frosted with puffs of white.
She couldn’t see the beach, but at least she could see the water. Or could she? Was she here in this room, or was she locked in a hospital somewhere? Had the accident left her a vegetable, dependent on a machine for nourishment and oxygen? Or was the true world the one she dreamed of under the sea with Morgan? What was real and what was imagination? Maybe Justin’s offer was as much a dream as flying through the air on the back of a giant manta ray.
“Find him,” Lady Halimeda said. “Find him and kill him. I don’t want to know how. Just do it.”
“And what does that get me?” Caddoc nudged one of his mother’s repulsive pets aside with the toe of his sandal. He hated octopods unless they were served in a stew with olives and onions, and her apartments were always crawling with the creatures: red ones, green ones, tiny black ones with yellow spots, enormous purple ones with sticky appendages. They gave him the creeps. When he was a child, he’d always been afraid that they would wrap their tentacles around him and smother him.
“What is it you want above all else, Caddoc?”
She had just risen from her bed. Her hair was unbound and she wore only a transparent black shift. His mother had always been comfortable with her own body, and she had no qualms about displaying it to him. He supposed it was a good body for a woman her age, but he wished she’d save her charms for her lovers. Her full breasts with their protruding brown nipples did nothing for him, and the shadow at the apex of her thighs was disgusting.
“Are you stupid as well as incompetent?” she demanded. “Kill Morgan and you’ll be the next high king.”
Caddoc felt his face growing hot. He had respect for her witchy abilities, had seen her perform tricks that he couldn’t explain, but even she couldn’t make him Poseidon’s heir. “I may be your eldest son, but after Morgan come those annoying twins, and then that brood of Queen Korinna’s. Do you expect me to murder them all? It might make the royal couple suspicious. Let alone the people.”
“Hold your tongue until you have something worthwhile to say,” she snapped. “You’re useless. You always were. I should have exposed you on shore when you were born. I doubt very much if you have a drop of royal blood in your veins.”
He winced. He was a man grown. He’d fought battles against killer whales and giant squid; he’d killed men, even some who deserved it. He shouldn’t have been afraid of his mother, but the truth was that he did fear her.
“Spineless sea worm.”
Caddoc stood as bile rose in his throat. He’d never let anyone else speak to him this way. “If you’ve summoned me here for more of your abuse, I have better things to do than listen to this.”
“Stay where you are.”
“Hades take you! You’ll give me orders no more.”
She slapped him hard across the face.
Hot fury made him want to lock his fingers around her blue throat and choke the life out of her. Instead, he made a rude gesture and took one stride toward the door. Then something odd happened. Caddoc found himself rigid, unable to move so much as a finger. He opened his mouth to shout, but could not speak.
“Do you doubt my power?” his mother asked. “Do you?”
A green octopus brushed against his cheek, one tentacle probing his open mouth. Caddoc struggled to clench his teeth, to knock it away, but he might have been carved of solid coral. The repulsive thing slid over his lips, leaving a trail of thick slime. He tried to scream as the octopod flowed into his mouth, gagging him, then wiggled and squirmed, down his throat.
Sweat broke out on his forehead. Blood infused his head so that the sound of it beating became a pounding drum in his ears.
Mother, please! No ! No! I don’t want to die like this!
His silent scream echoed in his head.
“Do you doubt me?”
“No … no.” Caddoc, ripped at his throat, trying to rid himself of the octopus that writhed and curled in his gut.
She extended her hand. “Down on your knees, you ungrateful boy.”
He did as she ordered. Bowing his head, he kissed her ring. Tears sprang from his eyes. “Forgive me, Mother,” he sobbed.
She laughed. “Get up. You’re fine. Are you such a child that you don’t know illusion from reality?”
He didn’t answer. Who knew what she might do if he said the wrong thing, offended her even more?
“Do as I say,” she ordered. “If you are too stupid to think, at least recognize that I am not. Track down Poseidon’s heir and kill him. Let no one see you do it.”
“But, how … ?”
A red octopus wrapped around her arm and slithered around her throat. “Leave the rest to me,” she said. “First the king will name you as the new crown prince, and then he will die.”

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