Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Page 12

  Gina gently pushed Kyrri aside, realizing all the men heard was an unusually large cat meowing at them, and stepped into the firelight. "Um, hello, Captain Gage," she said. "I'm uh...Agent Gina Harwood," she said, shaking her head at how poorly this was going. "I need to get to…" she looked at Kyrri for help.

  "Kadatheron."

  "Kadatheron, and was hoping to book passage on your vessel," she finshed, rushing through the words. Her cheeks felt flushed, and she knew she was a deep purple from embarrassment.

  Captain Gage stood, and Gina watched him stand until he towered over her. She blinked. His face was blocky, full and wide, with a heavy brow and a thick chin, and his hair was pulled back into long, black braid like most of the other Men she'd encountered. He locked eyes with her, and Gina realized that their eyes weren't as completely black as they looked at first light, just a very, very dark brown. "Book passage," repeated the captain, drawling the words. "Got coin?"

  Gina noticed that the crowd of Men around her had grown silent. Kyrri was tense, his tail bushy. "Yes, but not with me," she stammered. "I'll bring it when we leave."

  "Good thinking," whispered Kyrri, his ears flat against his head.

  The captain nodded. Gina forced herself not to fidget as he circled around her. "Smart. Never know what could happen, pretty girl walking around with a bag of coin and a pussycat." Gage chuckled.

  Kyrri hissed and Gina whirled on the captain, withdrawing her dagger in one fluid motion. She pointed it at the captain's chest, and he roared with laughter. The Men around them echoed it nervously, but Gina could feel the tension in the air, even without her telepathy. "Kitty's got claws," remarked the captain as he retook his seat. "500 dinar. One-way. I'll drop you and your friend there at Calephais."

  "Too high!" hissed Kyrri, his eyes slits. "Half that would get us to Kadatheron and back!"

  "200 dinar, and you drop us off at Kadatheron," growled Gina. She was tired of feeling vulnerable here. She'd fought against that feeling her entire life, and didn't appreciate it being reintroduced now.

  Gage cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. "250 and I'll drop you off at Kadatheron," he said, spreading his arms amiably. "I ain't going any lower than that."

  The tension around the circle had almost entirely dissipated, with many of the Men resuming their previous conversations. Gina slid her dagger back in its sheath, feeling sheepish. "That sounds fine."

  "Be here at morning light two suns from now," he remarked distantly, drinking deeply from his stein and wiping his face with the back of his hand. "With the coin."

  "Thank you," said Gina, backing away from the fire and trying not to run out of the camp. She limited herself to a brisk, stiff walk until she was out of earshot, and then broke into a run down the road.

  "Why are we running?" asked Kyrri, keeping up easily beside her.

  "Because it's something to do," panted Gina, and they continued their sprint until they reached the Swimming Cock.

  24

  Morgan lurched forward, waking with a start. He pressed his hands to his chest, which was covered in the pressed suit jacket he always wore to work, and the sounds of the station faded in around him. He was in Tulsa, and this was his desk. He looked across the tiny office room to see Gina Harwood, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, chewing the cap on her pen. He flinched. He hated that sound.

  "So, what do you make of the letter?" asked Gina, staring out their small window at the cars passing outside.

  Morgan shook his head, confused. None of this was right. He looked down at the assortment of items on his desk, trying to make sense of her question. There was a small wooden amulet, it looked like a figure eight on its side with eight spikes emanating from it, and a chill went through him. "This has happened before," he whispered, staring at the figure.

  "The letter. It's under that pendant-thing." Gina pointed to his desk.

  The amulet stared back at him, seeming to throb in his presence. Morgan tore his eyes away from it and scooted it away from him with another piece of paper, loathe to touch it directly. "There's something wrong with that," he said tremulously. "I can feel it. If I can, I know you can."

  Gina cocked her head at him, an eyebrow raised. She opened her mouth to speak, but then seemed to think about it, and closed it again. "The letter," she reminded gently.

  He looked down at the words scrawled across the paper. You will blossom a beautiful flower of rotting death. Soon, I will at last be free. Gina Harwood sealed you. Charlene Parker sealed you. The wall is hungry again. I am coming. Morgan blinked and re-read it. That's not right, he thought, the sense of wrongness growing. It was Lillian and Freedom. He looked up at Gina, still chewing on her pen, her green eyes staring at the letter in thought.

  "Gina," he said, and he felt his breath hitch. "Gina, listen to me."

  She withdrew the pen and cocked her head again at him. "You never call me Gina," she whispered, confused.

  "Something's wrong. None of this is right. We have to get out of here," he reached out and grabbed her hand. She stared down at it in surprise. "We have to find help."

  "Okay," she half-laughed, sounding and confused and tense. "Well, we're surrounded by cops, so help should be easy." Her green eyes flashed at him, and Morgan blinked. He thought they were bright yellow for a moment, a bright sickening yellow, but they were green.

  "Uh," he hesitated, unsure of what to do. He backed a step or two away, thoughts racing through his head. His gaze landed on the pendant again, and it seemed to draw him in, his vision tunneling until it looked like it was only an inch away from his nose.

  "Where are your clothes?"

  Shaking his head, Morgan blinked at her. "What?" He looked down, and he was dirty and naked, and his left foot looked like a potted plant. Gina's laughter, sharp and cruel, floated around him, but he couldn't see her, or the office, any longer. He stumbled back when he realized he was standing at the edge of the cliff, the same cliff he'd found himself lying on that first, awful night. He sat down hard in the sparse white grass and screamed to the sky, incoherent words and syllables.

  "Careful," warned Pan, appearing directly beside him. Morgan jumped, falling silent. "You're being awfully loud."

  "I told you before. Fuck off," spat Morgan, leaning his head back against his old familiar rock.

  Pan shrugged. "You just keep getting more interesting. I don't want a gug hearing you bellow and come running."

  Morgan ignored him, looking out over the ocean. The sun was setting, the sky painted neon pinks and oranges. I've lost at least a day, he thought to himself. At least. I drank some water earlier, but not enough, and I haven't eaten anything. He flexed his left foot experimentally and grunted. And I bet I don't want to think about what my foot looks like right now. He tried to remember how fast infections generally spread, and couldn't.

  "I tell you what," offered Pan in a low voice, crouching in front of him. "I will answer any three questions you want. Any three! As long as you answer one for me." Morgan felt a nudge in his ribs, and suddenly Pan was sitting beside him. "That's a good deal."

  "Like your canteen?" scoffed Morgan, but he was thinking. It did sound like a good deal. He had way too little information and way too many things working against him.

  "Ah, now, that's not fair," whined Pan. "That was before we became friends, you and me. I didn't know you then."

  "Fine. Answer mine first."

  Pan considered this. "You give me your word you will answer my question?" he asked.

  Morgan resumed his glare out over the ocean. "Yes," he promised.

  "Mm, I like it," said Pan, settling in and leaning his head against his arms. "What's your first question?"

  "Where are my team in relation to me right now?" Morgan turned to meet the half-man's strange black gaze.

  Pan bobbed his head in surprise. "That's a very specific question," he said. "You must moonlight as a lawyer."

  Morgan waited in silence.

  "Well," said Pan, and as he
blinked, Morgan thought he saw that same sickening yellow color paint across the surface of his eye, but it was gone once the eyelid slid back up. "I don't exactly know. They're not here, not on this plane.” He licked a finger and raised it as if to test the wind. “Mm, yep. You're on your own."

  Morgan realized that Pan was under no obligation to answer honestly, but didn't feel like he had any choice but to accept him at his word. He was uneasy. The longer the half-man sat next to him, the queasier Morgan felt. "Okay. My second question: where are the nearest people who could help me?"

  Pan grinned his toothy grin, and Morgan was certain now that the creature's eyes weren't actually black at all, but that horrible, stomach-turning ochre. "Oh, I like that question. I like it very much." He clapped his hands together and leaned close to Morgan's ear. "The closest people are less than a mile away!" Pan leaned back and clapped again with glee, then pointed to a rounded hump of an island ahead of them, past the edge of the cliffs.

  Morgan considered this, remaining silent. He didn't want to accidentally pose and waste his third question. He's not lying, he thought with certainty. He's just sure I can't get there. "I'll go ahead and answer your question now," he sighed.

  "Need time for yours, mm?" chuckled Pan. "No problem. I got all night. But first," he leaped up and his face was hard and cruel, with none of the genial attitude he'd previously shown. "How do you know my brother's symbol?" A blue flame flickered and then burst into life above his hand, in which was carved the figure-eight symbol with the eight spikes.

  Morgan shivered. Images flooded through his mind at the sight of the symbol, some memories and some nightmares, and they intertwined until it was impossible to tell them apart. He took a deep breath and tried to hold it together. "It got left at the crime scene of several homicide victims," he recited clinically, pulling his eyes away from the symbol. "It was linked to a commune in Maryland, where we eventually..." he struggled for clinical terms he could use to describe anything that happened in Snow Hill. "...kicked some demon's ass, apparently," he finished, looking back up to meet Pan's yellow eyes. "I can see your eyes," grinned Morgan wildly, and he pushed off of the rock as hard as he could, sprinting toward and beyond the edge of the cliff, jumping up and out and hoping against hope that the ocean was deep enough that he didn't break his spine on impact.

  "You still had one question!" screamed Pan, but his voice faded into the distance and Morgan closed his eyes as the ocean grew closer in slow motion as he fell, and fell.

  The water was cold, far colder than he'd expected, and his lungs constricted immediately, trying to force Morgan to inhale. His eyes flew open and he looked around desperately for light, disoriented and on the edge of panic. His arms and legs propelled him in the direction he hoped was up, the urgency in his chest deepening. Liquid pressed in around him and he felt his diaphragm twitch, begging for him to open his mouth and let whatever was beyond in; the water felt heavy and oppressive and Morgan began to wonder if this had been the worst possible idea when his head broke through the surface, gasping for air. He bobbed along the surface of the waves, sputtering to keep the salt water out of his dry throat. The cliffs stretched up above him, and he blinked, not realizing how far up he'd been when he jumped. Morgan lay back and tried to backstroke away from the cliffs, realizing the waves would eventually smash into them if he stuck around. It wasn't as easy as he'd hoped, and he grimaced as he flopped over and swam in earnest. He didn't like this at all. Most of his naked body was under the surface of the water this way. His left foot screamed at him with every stroke - the potted plant was gone, having sloughed off during the splash, so the open gash was flushed with brine on every upstroke.

  Morgan paused to get his bearings and was able to see the hump of the island, but it didn't seem much closer. He turned and looked up at the cliffs, which didn't seem much further away than they had before, and he knew without looking that his gash was open and leaving a track of blood through the water. Facts piled up in Morgan's mind, and he pushed them away. I can't make it, he admitted, beginning his swim again, this time slightly more measured and rhythmic. But I'll be damned if I'm not going to try.

  Dark shapes swam underneath him, and larger, darker shapes swam underneath those. Morgan fixed his eyes on his target, closing them as he passed through waves momentarily before staring straight ahead again. He counted out his strokes in his mind, his vision tunneled, and he was only dimly aware of the pain and the thirst and the nudity and the monstrous shadows that swam beneath. He was a drowning animal swimming towards survival, and he embraced the empty thought-state that accompanied it. Whether the whole of him lived or died that day, there was a piece that was alive in a way it had never been before, and a piece that would never breathe again.

  25

  "Don't grab the rigging," warned Captain Gage, stomping up the platform to the ship. "Most of it's greased, and it don't clean off easy."

  Kyrri slunk up the platform, ears flattened. He had another large pack tied on to his backplates, which carried the food and a few more skins of water Gina had picked up in the market. Hlanith's market wasn't nearly as colorful and pleasant as Ulthar's, but it had been well-stocked. "Be careful, Gina-Dreamer," he called back. "This feels unsteady."

  Gina smiled wryly; the platform looked perfectly steady. It was the boat that was rocking, slowly and gently, and she felt sure Kyrri was going to have a rough voyage. She shook her head sadly and waited until Kyrri had made his painfully slow way entirely up the platform and was panting aboard the ship before she strode forward, ascending the plank lightly and easily. She grinned and leaped onto the deck beside Kyrri. "Not so bad," she said.

  "Not too bad," agreed the Captain, who was checking boxes lined on the deck against a list on his clipboard. "Welcome aboard the Blackbird, finest ship on the seas." He grinned at them, and Gina noticed that his leftmost teeth were mostly gold. "Coin?"

  Gina untied a smaller pouch from her belt and handed it over. The burly captain accepted it and placed it inside his vest, turning back to the dockworkers.

  "These are good, lads, pack 'em away. Then tell Hammer to bring up the last load." The four men waiting by the boxes grumbled their assents and began carrying the boxes down the length of the ship. Gage tucked his pencil behind his ear and turned toward Gina. "I'll show you to your cabin, milady," he smirked, drawling out the honorific, and waving them forward with a flourish.

  "Gina's fine," she mumbled back, ill-at-ease. Kyrri slunk by her side and moved in step with her.

  "I'm surprised Kitty made it," he chuckled. "Cats usually don't like water, and they almost never like boats."

  Gina was pretty sure the hisses and clicks she heard under Kyrri's breath were unique insults, but she spoke over them. "He's a braver Cat than most," she announced, squaring her jaw. "He'll do fine."

  Kyrri's back straightened a little, and his ears twitched.

  "He gets sick, you're swabbin' it up," he warned, stepping up a small series of steps and walking toward a large wooden door. He pushed it open with a creak. "You're inside, through the door to the right," he informed them. "That bed's mine. Hammer'll sleep downstairs with the crew until Kadatheron."

  "Who's... uh, Hammer?" asked Gina, as Kyrri slinked past Gage to explore the cabin.

  "First mate of the Blackbird," announced Gage formally, and he leaned in to wink at her. "My little brother. You'll meet him at lunch. We leave in an hour, get your stuff tied down in the cabinets. Come out to watch if you want," he shrugged. "Jes' stay outta the way. Lunch is at noon, in the galley. Galley's back down the steps and direct through the door, it's right below my cabin." He pointed down. "Questions?"

  Gina blinked in surprise. The speech had rolled off of the captain's tongue in a surprisingly rehearsed way. She surmised they were not the first passengers aboard the Blackbird, and relaxed considerably. "No," she said. "Actually," she added, seeing him turn away. "Um, it's my first time on a ship. Is there anything I should know?"

  "Don't fall over t
he edge," offered the captain.

  Gina grimaced.

  "Look, jes' keep to your quarters except for mealtimes. Stay up here, sit on the deck, fine, but don't get in the way o' my crew. They got work to do."

  Gina nodded, wide-eyed. "Okay. Thanks," she said, turning to look inside the cabin. It was well lit with sunlight from several small windows lining the wall, and there was a heavy-looking desk against the outer wood. A simple-looking cot was beside the desk, small but serviceable. She stepped gingerly inside.

  Kyrri looked at her with wide yellow-green eyes. "Gina-Dreamer? Are you well?"

  No. I'm out of my element, she thought. "I'm okay, Kyrri," she said, forcing her lips to curl into a smile.

  "This place isn't awful. For a boat," added Kyrri, his ears still half-flat against his head. He was sitting on a bed at least twice as large as the one they'd seen in the previous room, and it looked significantly more comfortable. There were two tall, ornately-decorated cabinets that reached from floor to ceiling across from the bed, their doors held together by thick brass eyehooks. There was a desk similar to the one outside in the captain's quarters, but the fittings and handles were fine metal. Gina noticed with dismay that there was what appeared to be a toilet in the corner of the room, but then immediately considered that not having a door was infinitely preferable to sharing one with all of the Men on board. She unhooked and opened one of the cabinets, and was surprised to find extra bedsheets and blankets inside, and tied to the side of one of the shelves was a flat glass bottle with a strange puffy stopper on the top. Gina leaned in closer for a look and blinked in surprise.

  "Do ships usually come with perfume?" she asked, holding up the bottle to show Kyrri.

  "I don't know anything about ships, Gina-Dreamer," sniffed Kyrri, gazing out of the window. "I suppose they must."

  "Huh," said Gina as she tied the bottle back and crouched down to open her pack.