Seawitch

once we’re in the area and that’ll help us figure where he was going, once we’re there. The currents are strong up here because the channels between the islands are narrow and a lot of water has to move fast whenever the tide changes, so even if we get the right location we may have to play about or lay over to reach it. Can’t tell much from here just yet.” He looked up at Quinton. “If you want to check anything online, you’d better do it quick—there won’t be any Wi-Fi or cell service for most of the trip. The big islands have antennas but signals don’t always reach ships on the water. The really small islands have no coverage at all; one of the things I like about coming up here is the world leaves you alone.”

“I can certainly appreciate that,” Quinton said.

“How long will it take to reach Roche Harbor?” Solis asked.

“All morning and a bit more,” Zantree replied. “Assuming we have no adverse winds and keep to favorable currents, we should make the dock at Roche by two o’clock or so. Motorboats aren’t as susceptible to wind as sail, but we can still be pushed around and if we get caught in a tidal race or current, we could end up going the wrong way. Since it’s good weather and a weekend, we’ll have to keep an eye out for other vessels—especially tugs hauling barges. If you see the one, start looking for the other, because we don’t want to pass between them; the tow cable sinks just below the water and if you cross over it, it’ll shear your keel off like a knife through cheese. And where we’re headed is right on the border, in the ferry route, so we’ll need to be careful of those, too—ferries have the right-of-way and they can push a hell of a wake, even going slow. Boating is fun but it takes some vigilance to be safe. Like wearing those flotation vests every minute you’re aboard. Everybody good with all that?”

We all nodded. I noticed that Quinton was the only one of us landlubbers with his vest on and felt a little abashed. Having drowned once, I had no desire to do it again.

“Good,” Zantree said. “If you need anything ashore, take care of it now. We’re off in twenty minutes if we mean to have the tide with us all the way.”

The facilities on Mambo Moon were adequate, but I still felt a need to step off and stretch on a surface that moved a bit less before donning my vest and getting under way. I wasn’t sick, but the constant small movement of the boat as it floated and bumped the dock made me respond without thinking, my body making continual tiny adjustments to stance and posture to keep my balance, and a lot of those little movements sent twinges of discomfort along my cracked rib. Stretching out wasn’t going to be pleasant, but if I didn’t try I’d be stiff and out of balance as well as in pain and that would make me an unreliable crew member— something I could not afford to be. I climbed off the boat and walked uncomfortably up the floating dock to the marina’s office building, which sat firmly on dry land.

It was still early enough in the morning that there weren’t crowds of people in the area and the boaters were mostly going about their own business on board their vessels, just as we had been. They left me alone and cast only a few cursory glances at the tall, skinny woman in jeans and sneakers, using the platform railing as an exercise bar. The leg stretches were all right, but the upper-body stuff was killer and my eyes were a little misty with tears of pain by the time I turned and started back to Zantree’s boat. I was swiping the moisture from my eyes as I went, so I suppose I could be forgiven for not paying attention to the shadow that heaved itself out the water and onto the boat’s swimming platform at the stern as I turned the last corner to Mambo Moon. The splash caught my attention, however, and I finished my turn with a wrench that made me hiss and stop short about twenty feet from the boarding steps.

For a moment I thought the creature on the low platform was a sea lion—it was as long as a man, dark brown, and oddly lumpy. I hurried forward, pressing my hand to my side to suppress the pain in my ribs, as I saw Solis pop out the aft door to see what had caused the boat to lurch to the rear. I came even with the thing just as Solis looked over the rail. Quinton stuck his head out of the door also and called out, “What is it? Are we clear to start the engines or not?”

“There is something on the . . . the rear platform,” Solis called back, not quite sure what to call that part of the boat, I guessed.

The creature looked around, moving its large, misshapen head even as its body seemed to writhe and change shape. It spotted me and let out a moaning noise that sounded a lot like “Moooove!”

Quinton ran out and stared down, too. “Holy shit! What is that?”

The creature was still writhing and morphing from a large furry lump to something vaguely human-shaped and kept its agonized gaze on me as I jumped from the dock to the swim platform, hoping I wouldn’t miss or lose my balance and fall in the water. I made it and crouched down, wincing and gasping as I grabbed on to the handrail of a steel ladder attached to the rear of the boat.

I stared at the thing, seeing it tangled in flaring coils of red and gold energy twined with the thinnest threads of bilious green and dimming lavender. The creature shrugged and squirmed as if it were trying to shed its skin. “Harper . . . Blaine,” it breathed, exhaling an odor of fish and brine laced with the burning tang of something magical.

“You’re the one from the other night,” I said. It didn’t look quite like it had when it stuck its head out of the water next to Seawitch and barked my name, but the voice—such as it was—was the same and the mutant head and body were all too similar.

It nodded its too-big head as its jaw popped and crackled into a harder, more square line. I could see a white scar running over the right side of its face now. Similar white weals like the marks of a rope or whip showed through the brown fur on its body, gleaming with filaments of red and violet energy—perhaps the residue of whatever had reached out from Pleiades that night and nearly hit me, too.

“Up, up,” the creature yipped, jerking its head toward the deck above us.

“Me or you?” I asked.

“Bofe. Now!” it barked. “Moooove!”

I’ve never been yelled at by a giant sea mammal before but I did as it said and scrambled up the ladder as best I could, wincing and yelping all the way.

Quinton turned back and yelled up to Zantree on the flying bridge, “Zantree! We need a landing winch!”

“What the hell for?” Zantree called back, “and what’s riding on my boat?” He started down the steps from the flying bridge and stopped, looking down. “That’s not a sea lion, is it? You shouldn’t be messing with sea mammals!”

“Not a sea mammal—not like that, anyway. Just trust me! We have to get this up and get out of here.”

“Jesus!” Zantree swore, getting an eyeful of the writhing thing on his swim platform. “I’ll take your word— and keep it out of my props or there’ll be fillet of freakfish all over the place. Flip up the davits and use that winch! Lines are under the transom rail in those lockers!” Then he turned and went back to the control console to flip various switches while the rest of us struggled on.

Quinton apparently knew exactly what Zantree’s directions meant and in a few minutes had a pair of lines attached to pulleys on the heavy metal bracket things that were attached to the aft rail. In no time he had jumped down onto the swim platform and passed the lines around the wriggling creature and back up to the deck with him. He handed one free end to Solis and kept the other for himself. “Haul steadily when I say so. The motor will do most of the work, but we have to keep him from tipping or he’ll fall off. Harper, get the lid off the fish hold. He’ll have to go in there for now.”

I turned and worked the top off the big built-in box where Zantree had sat the first time we’d met. It folded in the middle and was a little awkward for me alone with a cracked rib, but I got it flipped back and the fiberglass well exposed as Quinton and Solis pulled the creature up from the platform and wrestled it over the aft rail.

“OK, heave up!” Quinton snapped, and I fell back toward the doors, turning to keep an eye on what they were doing.

Solis and Quinton had the dripping, fur-covered thing in their arms and lifted it like a long sack full of rocks up and into the hold. The creature let out a yelp and the tangles around it flashed red. I winced in sympathy. The men pulled off the ropes and Quinton found a switch that began pumping seawater into the hold to keep the “catch” fresh. Solis stared at the thing with slightly too-wide eyes, crossed himself, and took half a step away before he forced a halt and held his ground. The creature looked back at him, visibly relaxing as the seawater crept up its body.

Quinton finished hauling in the lines and coiling them up. Then he called up to Zantree. “All clear to start engines! I’ll go down and prepare to cast off.” He turned to Solis and me, shaking his head. “Harper, you watch the monster. Solis, go up to the foredeck and handle the bow line as we cast off. I’ll walk us off astern and jump aboard when we’re free.”