Undertow (8 page)

When she was finally able to open her eyes, Nikki was beyond livid. She was shaking with fury and when she saw me with the glass, I actually thought she would combust.

“I . . . am . . . going to KILL you!” she roared and launched herself at me.

I threw my hands up, ready to defend myself, but there was suddenly a wall of black between us.

“Ladies,” said a rich voice emanating from the wall. I looked up and all I saw was broad shoulders cloaked in a black t-shirt, topped with a head of straight, shoulder-length ash blonde hair.

Whoever he was, he had a solid build, but I couldn’t see his face since his attention was turned to Nikki. He was bracing the roaring cheerleader so her arms couldn’t reach around him and tear my limbs off. He seemed to contain her easily, even though she was channeling the aggression of a rabid hyena.

“Calm down. Calm Down! It was an accident,” said the wall.

“Like Hell it was!” screamed Nikki. She let loose with a tirade of what she was going to do to my life, accentuated with more foul language than most sailors could muster.

Over her ranting, MJ called out to my defender. “Get her out of here, Kian!” he said, pointing to the door.

Kian? This wall of black is Raef’s brother?

As if on cue, Kian glanced over one shoulder and down at me. He must have been at least a foot or more taller than me. Like his brother Raef, Kian was handsome on a whole different level. He looked like he had been picked out of a broody, high-end clothing ad.

“You okay?” he asked me, his voice cool and deep.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” I said, though the hairs on my neck stood on end. Adrenaline is a funky chemical.

Nikki managed to twist herself around Kian to look me in the eye. A tsunami didn’t throw as much fury. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life,” she growled.

“You’re right. Wasting a milkshake from this place is a true crime. We will all mourn the loss.”

I had a death wish, without doubt.

Someone snickered and Nikki made one last attempt to launch herself at my throat, but Kian was unyielding. MJ pointed firmly to the door again and Kian nodded, hauling the chocolate covered teen from the shop. Her minion, finally regaining her senses, hurried out to her owner.  Chairs scraped along the tile floor as everyone stood in near unison and watched her through the windows.

Kian dragged her to her convertible and she screamed at him. He stood there, arms crossed, not reacting to her tirade. Eventually, she got into her car with PomPom and tore out of the parking lot onto Main Street. She must have been doing 60 by the time she was roaring past my home. We all watched out the windows as her engine’s sound faded. 

Jesse and Cara were standing at their booth, staring at me in amazement. A sophomore sitting at the counter finally looked over to me and broke the strange silence in the shop, “You are some type of brave, but completely suicidal.”

I turned to her, my legs getting wobbly with the fast-fading adrenaline vacating my system. “Some things are just worth the pain,” I said, smiling. “Besides, who wants to live forever?”

Apparently not me, the way I was going.

“Jeez woman!  You are crazy,” said MJ with a bold smile. “Here, have a seat before you keel over!” MJ turned to the crowded shop, which was slowly starting to regain its normalcy, “Sorry folks!  All over now!  Please enjoy yourselves!”  He reached up to a high shelf and turned the station up a little louder to coax the casual back into the stunned patrons.

The cowbell rang as Kian returned. “Well, she was delightful,” he said, his voice rich and smooth.

“Thanks Kian,” responded MJ, somewhat stiffly. He came around the counter to clean up the milkshake that had cascaded all over Nikki and the floor. I felt bad that I made a mess.

“Oh here, let me clean it up,” I said to MJ, reaching for the rag.

He quickly put up a hand to stop me, “You, my friend, earned all the brownie points tonight. It is my pleasure to tidy such a historic moment.” 

I sat back down on my stool. Kian took a seat next to me and MJ glanced at him briefly, almost coldly. Kian may have been a big help, but MJ didn’t seem thrilled he was here.

Kian’s presence made me nervous. It was a sensation not unlike when I first saw Raef, though not nearly as strong. I made a mental note that I needed some more practice being calm around gorgeous guys.

“So, you must be Eila Walker. I’m Kian O’Reilly.”

Seated next to me, I was able to more closely size him up.  I guessed him to be 20 or 21. His hair framed his angular face in such a way that
he looked exactly like one of those obscenely hot, surfer guys from California.

“I guess I must,” I said, shaking his hand. My whole arm tingled and I qui
ckly released his hand. “You’re . . . uh, Raef’s brother,” I said, the electricity fading. The O’Reilly boys had some serious talent at making females weak.  “Thanks for the quick save.”

“Not a problem, I was passing by and saw what you did through the window.”

“Accident,” I corrected.

“Uh huh, yeah. Sure it was. Anyway, she was going to blow a screw and I decided to step in.”

“So glad you did,” I replied, truly grateful.

“So, how is my little brother adjusting to Barnstable?”

“Good. He speaks highly of you,” I fibbed. Technically Raef acted about as close to an only-child as I had ever been.

Kian raised one suspicious eyebrow and leaned back slightly to where MJ was wiping up the floor, “Dude. This chick is a rotten liar.” MJ didn’t react.

“Hey now!” I protested.

“Eila, my brother would never sing my praises. Ever. But thanks for trying.” He got up from his stool and started heading for the door. “I need to go grab dinner, but I’m sure I will see you around again Eila.”

“Wait! Why don’t you eat here? Food is great,” I said, hoping to get some details about the O’Reilly brothers and possibly Ana. MJ glanced up at Kian, but kept cleaning.

“Not today. I already have plans.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Take-out.”

I was disappointed, but nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said, “And MJ – tell Ana I’m looking for her. We need to talk.”  MJ made a somewhat disgusted snort and shook his head, never looking up.

Kian headed to the door, but looked back at me. “Try not to piss off the rest of the squad, will ya?” he said, smiling as he let the screen door slap the frame behind him. I shook my head, still trying to grasp all that I had just done.

I heard jingling and looked down to see that MJ was fishing something from his pocket. He held up a pair of silvery car keys and dropped them in my hand. “Next time I will just leave the keys with Mae,” he said with a wink.

The woman’s body lay crumpled on the ground and the man, gone. Next to it, the fountain poured peacefully, but was now dusted in ash. The same gray material that I recognized covered the road, the edge of the woman’s skirt, and the ornate pillar at the fountain’s center.

I turned as I heard someone calling through the darkness and caught sight of two figures staggering to their feet near a building. I called out to one of them, pleading for help, but he stood like stone, unflinching, uncaring . . . and 100% recognizable. I screamed his name over and over, and he turned to look at me. His doll-black eyes reflected no emotion and his gaze sent an electric shock of panic through my chest.

My heart was pounding madly, sweat soaking my tank top.  I sat up too fast in my tangle of sheets and the sudden motion made my head spin.  Disoriented in the darkness, I was quickly losing the memory of the nightmare once again. I tried to replay it in my mind – tried to remember something about the repetitive scene that was plaguing my dreams.

I scrambled out of bed and hurried over to my desk, fumbling in the darkness for paper and pencil. I scrawled the words
fountain
and
ash
on the pale sheet. I knew a woman died near a fountain, but the details of how her life ended were gone once again. I tapped the pencil against the paper, as if it would start writing on its own.

The yellow light drifting up from the street lamp across the road cast the slightest, golden glow to my paper.  I took a deep, cleansing breath, and dropped the pencil down on the worn, wooden desk. Someday I would be fast enough to recall the dream that was haunting me.

I glanced out toward the street and was shocked to see a man standing under the lamp, directly across from my house.  He was just standing there, in the dead of the night, partially in the shadows.

His face was hidden from the light thanks to his dark hooded sweatshirt and he dodged out of the light, disappearing into the darkness. I stepped quickly away from the direct view of my window and looked toward the street from behind the curtain. What the frick? Was some degenerate casing my house for a robbery?

The street was quiet and the man nowhere to be seen. I rubbed my eyes, questioning my mind, uncertain he had been there in the first place. Maybe the house had lead paint and it was messing with my brain. Of course, if the walls were harboring a toxin, it wouldn’t explain Dalca’s vial. Nothing made sense anymore. At least my friends were normal.

I slowly drew the curtains closed across the window and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up tightly around my neck trying to shake off my goose bumps.  I closed my eyes and pictured myself holding Raef’s hand and I instantly felt safe.

Calm.

Protected.

6

The next morning revealed itsel
f
as a spectacular day to be a Cape Codder. It was sunny and unusually warm, all in all the perfect beach day.  I was determined to put the vial, the dreams, and the man that I may have hallucinated to the back of my frayed brain.

I was also thrilled with my awesome new ride, so I called Ana and MJ at the irrationally early hour of 8 a.m. to make plans to head to the off-road portion of Sandy Neck. 

MJ was groggy but thrilled at the idea when he answered the phone, mumbling something about a new skim board. Ana however, wasn’t such a ray of sunshine in the wee morning hours. After explaining the finer points of never calling her so early and the repercussions of doing so in the future, she agreed to come along.  I even debated calling Raef, but lost my nerve when I went to dial his number.

An hour later, both Ana and MJ arrived at my home.  While Ana and I packed up beach necessities, MJ proceeded to remove the doors from the Wrangler - a task I had attempted and failed miserably at earlier. 

With top down and the doors off, we all jumped in and headed down King’s Highway towards the off-road section of Sandy Neck.  The north-facing beach stretches miles from one end of the Cape to the other and is a spectacular site to behold.

I paid the gatekeeper at the entrance and MJ signaled me to pull over. I assumed he wanted to drive. Typical male.

“I think I can drive this section.  I am not a complete female fruit,” I protested.

“Well, you can drive . . . and be dug in within a half mile if I don’t let some air out of the tires,” said MJ with a wry grin as he climbed out.

“Ahh . . . gotcha,” I replied, feeling off-road ignorant.  I glanced back at Ana in the backseat. She was absorbed in some book she was reading, though her barely disguised smile told me she thought my poor sense of 4-wheeling was amusing.

It took us about 15 minutes to get out to a more remote area of the beach.  The scenery was gorgeous, with softly rolling mounds of powdery sand and tall dune grass.  Here and there a weather beaten fence would show up. Ana explained that the fences helped stave off destruction during storms.

“Someday that home of yours will be waterfront property due to the erosion.”

“Be serious,” I laughed, “I am like a quarter mile from Craigville. There is no way I will be sitting on my own private beach anytime soon.”

“Note I didn’t say you would still be
alive
when it happens,” she said with a smile.

I gave her a knowing wink, but the reality was, I rarely knew exactly what Ana was thinking. In fact, I wasn’t sure she actually liked me much.  She seemed often distant, as if she wore armor all the time.

              I watched as she leaned forward from her seat behind MJ and said something in his ear as she pointed towards the ocean. He nodded, and she sat back to watch the view.

I found it interesting that Ana and MJ seemed so well connected yet were not boyfriend and girlfriend. Every moment they spent to
gether, the subtle ways they knew each other, spoke to the way they adored one another. I was fairly certain, however, that neither was bold enough to pursue anything other than the friendship they had known for so long.  But no one could ignore the fact that these two people, so different, were ideal for each other.

“Ana said that there is a nice sandbar down and off to the left.” MJ pointed to where Ana had also directed. “Drive a bit more toward the water and we’ll park and set up our stuff.”

Fifteen minutes later, we had set up a great sunbathing area, complete with picnic lunch, cooler of drinks, fluffy towels, and my ratty old blanket.

I couldn’t get past how odd it felt to be on the beach with my car.  I could lean back against the hubcap to read or lay down by the bumper for shade.  It was just so weird . . . but so much fun.

Before I knew it, MJ had stripped himself of his t-shirt and taken off with his super-thin, mini-surfboard.  He would run along the edge of the water and, at just the right moment, drop the boogie board down to the water and hop on. He would ride the thin piece of wood along the waves in about five inches of water.  It was amazing to watch.  I also knew that I would break my neck trying to do it.

Ana and I sat for a while in silence, taking in the view and the salt breeze.  I finally broke the silence. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” I questioned, always slightly nervous around Ana.

“You can certainly try. It’s a free country,” she replied, turning her attention to me, her dark sunglasses obscuring her eyes.

“Well . . . do you like me?” I asked, morbidly curious.

“Oh man. Are you one of those insecure chicks? I was really hoping you weren’t a Cling-On,” she said flatly.

“No, no. Not asking as a needy twit! It’s just that you are hard to read,” I replied, fiddling with a shell.

“Oh.” Ana picked up a pebble and tossed it toward the water. “Yeah. I like you Eila . . . I just, keep my emotions and thoughts to myself,” she said. “Better to be a locked vault than an open book I guess.”

I nodded. “I think that’s probably smart . . . And just for the record, I think you are a great friend to have.” I smiled but Ana, the locked vault, simply nodded.

We hung at the beach till almost dinnertime.  I wished I had packed more than just lunch as I watched the sun start to set.  Some people around us were gathering wood for bonfires and I wanted to stay.

“No worries,” said MJ, offering to drive us out in the falling light. “We will be back! There are lots of parties out here during the fall!”

I was looking forward to returning but then noted that the tide had receded into the bay and there was no smell.

Salt flats? I think not. Something else was in that vial for sure.

That evening, I had made a small dent in my volume of Kansas junk that was still piled around my room. It was a vain attempt on my part to not think about the Crimson Moon sniffing incident, now fresh in my mind thanks to the smell-free low tide. I ended up sniffing every old, beloved t-shirt I owned, testing my nose.  They all smelled like a boxed-up version of me, which actually didn’t smell half bad. Raef, I already knew, smelled downright divine.

Mae was busy in the kitchen making dinner and once I caught the scent of something tomato-laden and zesty wafting up the back staircase, I ditched my pitiful attempt at organizing.

I entered the kitchen just as Mae was pulling a pan of bubbling Italian goodness from the oven. “Your room spotless yet?” she asked, shaking
Parmesan on top of her oozy creation.

“Ummm. Sort of,” I replied with a shrug.  She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

              “Did you know we have a visitor?” she asked, smiling at me. “He’s been hanging out on the front porch for at least a half hour. He’s quite hard to miss.”

I raised my eyebrows at Mae, questioning. Raef?  She left Raef on the front porch for THIRTY MINUTES? What the heck!

Suddenly I was completely self-conscious of how I smelled from the hours of digging through dust bunnies and musty clothes.  “Uh, I’ll be right back,” I said, hurrying out of the kitchen through the parlor and to the front door.

I glanced quickly at the hall mirror and attempted to fix my hair and sniffed at my shirt. I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch to greet . . . “Marsh?”

              Dalca’s massive black dog was lying on the front porch and looked up at me expectantly, his huge tail thumping the wooden decking rhythmically.

“Marsh, what the heck are you doing here? Where’s Dalca?” I asked the dog, absurdly. As if he was Lassie and knew where Timmy fell in the darn well.

His tail thumped faster as he slowly got to his feet and wandered over to me, rolling his head under my hand. I stroked his thick fur as one of his huge, brown eyes looked at me. I had the strangest sense that he could understand me, and I fluffed his thick ears, a bit unnerved. 

“I should have had you out here last night. No way that guy would have been hanging around if you were here . . . although, I’m not sure there was actually anyone out here.” 

Marsh pulled his head away from me and looked at my face, his eyes studying my own.

“What?” I asked, only half aware I was talking to a dog. I was losing my mind, I was sure. Two words: lead paint. 

“I thought I saw a guy outside last night. No biggie – I’m sure it was just my imagination,” I said, defending my story to a canine. To my amazement, he actually let out a low growl.

“Alright. You know what? I have had enough of a ride on the Crazy Train for the weekend. You need to go home.” I crossed my arms defiantly in front of me.

Was I actually arguing with a dog? Good grief I was!

He looked at me and snorted.

“I’m fine! And I’m hungry, and Mae is going to be pissed if her homemade lasagna gets cold.” He licked his lips, pushing the ridiculous into down right creepy.

“Ana said you were getting chunky, so no lasagna for you. Now go home!” I demanded, pointing sternly in the direction of The Crimson Moon.

He let out a low grunt and turned, heading down the front porch steps. I watched him go and as he reached the sidewalk, he turned and looked at me. “Bye Marsh,” I said, as he trotted for home. I watched him leave and made a mental note to Google intelligence in dogs.

Back inside the table was set for dinner. Mae was pouring ice tea as I sat down. “So, has the dog gone home?” She seemed remarkably nonplussed about the giant that had taken up a quarter of the porch.

“Yeah. I sent him home. He’s huge but harmless. He belongs to this lady named Dalca. She owns that herb shop down the street,” I said, pulling a piece of garlic bread from the basket in the middle of the table.

“Oh, I know where he’s from. Dalca is the one who gave us the muffins our first morning here.” replied Mae. “I met Marsh the other day when I popped into her store.  Such a great little place!” Mae sat down across from me. “I picked up a witch ball.”

I stared at her, as if she spoke in a foreign tongue, “A what-what?”

“A witch ball.  Dalca was insistent that old homes like this traditionally had one. I hung it over the sink,” she said, nodding to the counter behind me.

I swiveled around in my chair, still chewing on the bread. Hanging delicately above the kitchen sink was a stunning glass orb, the size of a man’s fist. It was translucent, swirling with purples, blues and touches of gold.

             
“It’s beautiful. Not sure what it does with witches, but it sure is stunning,” I said turning back to Mae.

             
“Supposedly it will attract malicious spirits and they will become trapped inside,” replied Mae, proud of her knowledge.

             
“Casper will not be pleased,” I muttered.

             
“You know, Eila, I actually like that big beast hanging out on the porch. Especially since I’m going to be leaving in a month.” I could tell the wheels of Mae’s mind were furiously spinning. Truth be told however, I also felt safer with Marsh at the house, especially given the possible stalker I had seen.

             
“I know a friend of Dalca pretty well,” I said. “That girl, Ana, from school - she’s pals with her. I’m pretty sure she would let Marsh come live with me while you were away. He seems to like it here anyway.”

             
Mae nodded, thoughtful.  “Please be careful while I’m away. I’m still not sure this is a great idea.”

             
“I’ll be fine,” I said, my mind jumping to one particular boy. “You deserve this, and it took you forever to save for it.” I got up from the table and walked around to her, bending down to hug her, “I love you and I will be fine. I’m boring, remember?”