Siren's Storm

“Look, I’m just doing my job,” Angus said. “Is it wrong to want to get to the bottom of the story?”

“Actually, the doctors said there’s nothing wrong with me,” Kirk said. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a pale blue and white hospital gown. “They said-” His sentence was interrupted by the appearance of Kirk’s sister. “Adelaide?”

“Doctors can’t find anything wrong with you, except for scraped-up feet and some glass in your arm,” Kirk’s sister told him. “They say I can take you home.” She didn’t look particularly excited at the prospect. She tossed a pair of clean jeans and a folded T-shirt onto the end of the bed. “Put those on, and we’ll get out of here.” At that moment she seemed to notice Angus for the first time. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Angus looked offended. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Look, my brother isn’t talking to you.”

“What if he has something to say?” Angus asked.

“He doesn’t.” Adelaide flashed Kirk a stern glance. Kirk seemed to shrink a little under the glare, like a turtle retreating into its shell.

“Come on, Angus, let’s get out of here.” Will tugged at his friend’s sleeve, and Angus flashed Adelaide one last glare before following his friend out the door.

They were silent as they stepped outside under the bright lights that illuminated the parking lot. Will felt the anger coursing through him, burning up, like a scrap of paper that flares, then turns to ash in a matter of moments. Angus pressed a button on his keychain, and a black BMW chirped in response.

“Where’s your car?” Will asked.

“Dad’s asleep,” Angus replied. “I figured he wouldn’t mind.”

“You mean notice.”

“That’s what I said.” Angus grinned.

“Okay.” Will decided that it was easier not to argue. “I’ll see you, man,” he said as Angus yanked open the car door.

Angus leaned his weight against the top of the door. “Hey, Will,” he called.

Will turned back. “Yeah?”

“Did he say anything to you?” Angus asked. “When you found him?”

“No,” Will told him.

Angus nodded. “Poor kid. I don’t know if we’ll ever find out the full story behind Mr. Newkirk Alexander Worstler. Beyond the fact that he’s completely nuts, I mean. Well-”

“Wait, what?” The wheels of Will’s mind were spinning like tires on wet ice.

“I said he’s nuts.”

“No-you said… what did you call him?”

Angus shrugged. “Newkirk? That’s his name. Must be a family name, I guess. Newkirk.” He rolled his eyes. “With a name like that, no wonder he’s crazy.”

Will shook his head. “Family name…” Newkirk. As in James Newkirk. Could Kirk be related to the captain in Asia’s story? But she’d said that James had never married again. Then Will suddenly remembered, But he had a son. An adopted son. The boy Asia saved.

The boy who understood her language. He was becoming more like me every day, Asia had said.

Will turned back. He started toward the hospital at a dead trot.

“Hey,” Angus called. “Hey, Will!”

Will ignored him. He had to talk to Kirk.

When he raced back into the room, Adelaide was helping Kirk out of his bed. Will’s eye fell on a familiar shape on the bedside table, and his heart stopped. “Where did you get that?”

Kirk looked over at the flute. “I… I don’t know.” But his face had turned white.

“Did you-were you in my room?” Will’s voice was practically a scream.

“Hey, back off,” Adelaide told him.

“I don’t know where it came from,” Kirk insisted, his face registering confusion. “I… maybe…” He put a hand to his forehead. “Where do you… do you live near the bay?”

“Just take it and get out of here,” Adelaide snapped. “Nobody cares about your stupid flute, asshole.”

“You didn’t play it,” Will said.

A machine beeped, the only sound in the room.

“Tell me you didn’t play it!” Will said.

Kirk shook his head, but he looked unsure.

Oh, God. Did Kirk call those hell beasts in from the water?

Suddenly Kirk’s words came back to him like a horn through fog. The fury must awake!

Awake.

Will’s eyes darted to the wall. It was long past midnight. Gretchen, he thought. If Gretchen sleepwalked while those things were in the bay…

Will turned and slammed into Angus, who was just coming through the door. “Dude!” Angus cried. Will stumbled, recovered.

And he ran.

Chapter Fourteen

From the Walfang Gazette

Yacht Ventures Into Bay,

Causes Gas Spill

The Penelope, a yacht owned by fashion designer Newell Orlost, ran aground on a sandbar in Walfang Bay this afternoon. Unfortunately, her reserve tank of gasoline was ruptured in the accident, causing a sizeable fuel spill in the bay. Hazmat workers should be on the scene later tomorrow.

“Any time we see a spill of this nature, there is always a threat to wildlife,” said Martin Olvides, professor of…

Guernsey was barking at the gate as Will roared up on his motorcycle. She went crazy when she saw him, leaping and lunging at the pickets.

Will unlatched the gate and reached for Guernsey’s collar, but the dog pushed past him. She bolted toward the fields, her thirteen-year-old legs remembering their puppy speed. She led him across the yard, past the flowers now dim in the darkness, past the black sheep nestled in clean hay under their shelter. The dog blasted out into the field.

Will ran down the narrow row of corn after her. The stalks grew high overhead, blocking his view. They whispered past his ears, tearing at his arms, but he kept running. It was like a labyrinth with only one way out- forward.

Suddenly he broke through the vegetation, and the soil quickly turned to a mucky silt and sand. He stopped short. Guernsey was standing at the bay’s edge, barking.

And Gretchen was in the water.

Her white nightgown billowed around her as she waded into the still, smooth bay. The water was already at her waist.

The moon hung like a jewel in the sky, pouring light down onto the bay. It was easy for Will to see the heads- the group of faces-in an arc facing Gretchen.

His bones felt hollow, hollow as a flute, or the barrel of a gun. He was light, without weight, without power. Those faces-lovely and strange, with eyes like stars and teeth like daggers, hungry mouths-struck a primal fear in