Bloodliner (14 page)

"The tide was much higher than I expected," said Stanza. "The time distortion in Lyonesse must have intensified."

"You
think
so?" Mavis said between coughs.

"At least you're all right," said Jonah.

Mavis flashed back to the vision she'd seen underwater. She couldn't get it out of her head.

Especially those fangs.

"Right," she said. "At least there's that."

*****

 

Chapter 35

Shakespeare throttled the red-haired siren, crushing her throat with both hands as she thrashed and whipped him with her tail. Not far below in the cold, dark waters, Thomas battled the siren's mate, a red-skinned shark at least twice as big as he was.

They nearly got Mavis.

When Shakespeare had emerged from the Lyonesse portal, he'd seen the creatures make their play. The mermaid siren had floated near Mavis, holding her attention, as the shark had skated up from dark depths with teeth flashing.

I wonder what went through Mavis' mind when she saw that fish-skinned woman undulating 'neath the waves, fangs bared and long hair flowing like crimson seaweed.

Arthur had snatched Mavis away just in time, yet the danger had not ended. The siren had launched herself after her prey, followed closely by the shark.

They would have outrun Mavis and Arthur had Shakespeare and Thomas not intervened. Each had snagged a tail and wrenched a creature from its course, giving Arthur time enough to carry Mavis from the sea to safety.

Now, Thomas and I are the prey, with a difference: we've no one to come to
our
rescue.

The siren continued to batter Shakespeare with her tail, each blow like the crack of an oar against his back. She punched and clawed at him, digging shreds of meat from his sides and forearms and wisping the water with his blood. Shakespeare squeezed her throat harder, kicking and pumping knees into her belly in the bargain.

In a sudden flurry, the siren nearly freed herself, slashing at his eyes and swiveling in his grip like a snake. Shakespeare let go with one hand, just long enough to haul back a fist and plow it into her face.

As the siren went limp, Shakespeare stole a look toward Thomas and the shark. All he could see was a cloud of blood and foam, swirling in the darkness below.

Does the battle continue apace in there, or has it ended in a feeding frenzy? Have I failed not only to redeem the wayward twin but even to preserve his life?

Fresh urgency burned in Shakespeare's veins. He felt the siren twitch, and he killed her, twisting her head around hard enough to break her neck.

Her tail flexed as if about to batter him again, then shivered and flopped. He let her drift free, red hair weaving in the current, as he dove toward Thomas.

Does the boy yet live? Have I lost the chance to keep my vow to reform him?

And if I reappear without him, will I lose the alliance, the prize...and the loyalty of his twin? Will James lose faith in me, if such a short time after reuniting with his brother, he is left alone again?

Shakespeare closed on the bloody cloud and stared...but even his vampire gaze could not pierce the thick froth. He circled around, searching for a thinner spot or gap through which to glimpse the combatants. If anything, the cloud mass only thickened.

Then, suddenly, it broke.

Shakespeare leaped aside as the blood-red shark burst forth, blunt snout thrusting through the cloud like a battering ram.

There was no sign of Thomas, other than the smell of his blood in the water.

The boy's mauled carcass lies either in the gut of this monster or the heart of the cloud.

As Shakespeare watched, the shark shot free of the cloud, then veered toward him.

The
feratu
pulsed in Shakespeare's chest, lacing his blood with a fiery stimulant. Surging with power, Shakespeare bolted away from the beast and led it on a zigzag chase through the fringes of the cloud.

Shakespeare flashed around the cloud three times, always with the shark a nose behind...not because the fish was fast, but because Shakespeare wanted to keep it close. When the moment was right, he slowed just enough to give the shark hope. The shark's jaws snapped, nearly hacking off a foot—and Shakespeare suddenly leaped ahead and plunged into the core of the cloud.

The shark followed.

When it emerged seconds later from the opposite side of the cloud, it trailed ribbons of blood and swam at an angle, almost tipped over. Ten trenches had been gouged in its hide from nose to tail, one for each of Shakespeare's claws.

Shakespeare left the murk in his bat form. He'd shifted shape within the cloud in the split-second before the shark had come in after him. What his bat form lacked in swimming speed and maneuverability, it made up for with the giant, knife-sharp claws.

I'll make him a feast for the bottom-feeders, leaving only bits so small the crabs won't be able to tell if they're shark or plankton.

Shakespeare swam up alongside the shark and slashed its hide again, tearing off more flesh. The creature seemed to be in a daze as he ripped out chunks of it, exposing ribs and drawing more blood.

Then, all of a sudden, a clawed hand punched out from inside the shark. It burst through the very spot he'd been working on, snapping ribs in the process.

Startled, Shakespeare fell back—though he quickly realized whose claw it was and scrambled to return to work.

Before he could resume his excavation, though, the shark exploded. Chunks of meat and shards of bone leaped outward, spraying through the water and spattering Shakespeare.

By the time he'd wiped the mess from his eyes, the person who'd blown up the shark from inside floated free before him. Even in his bat-form, his giant grin was familiar.

Thomas.

Shakespeare waved, then hiked his thumb toward the surface. Time to go.

I can't believe I'm actually relieved the little monster isn't dead.

Thomas reverted to his human form, which wasn't as good for clawing through sharks, but was better for swimming. Shakespeare did the same.

Right before Thomas leaped upward, he smiled and waved back at Shakespeare. He mouthed a message, too, which wasn't hard for Shakespeare to lip-read.

Screw you.

Then, Thomas jabbed both middle fingers straight up, saluting Shakespeare, and launched like a missile for the surface.

*****

Part Three: Germany

Chapter 36

Arthur was grinning. "We just went under the English Channel," he said. "On a
train
."

It was the tenth time he'd said the same thing or close to it.

Jonah, who was sitting across from him, nodded politely. He was exhausted, and the whole "King Arthur digs the wonders of the modern world" bit was wearing kind of thin.

So was the "Stanza makes goo-goo eyes at King Arthur" bit.

"The Chunnel," said Arthur. "Amazing."

"It is, isn't it?" said Stanza. Arthur had the window seat, and Stanza sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, often leaning across to point out some new attraction as they hurtled through the twilight countryside.

"What are those lights up there?" Arthur craned his neck to gaze at the sky. "The blinking ones."

Stanza leaned over for a look. "Airplane," she said. "It's a machine that flies people through the sky."

"No!" Arthur pressed closer to the window. "You're joking!"

Stanza laughed and sat back in her seat. "We might even get to ride one."

"
Really
?" Arthur said with childlike enthusiasm. "I would
love
that."

Stanza laughed again. Giggled was more like it.

Oh, brother.

Jonah looked at Mavis for a reaction, but she was still pretending to be asleep in the seat next to him. Now that things were getting obnoxious with Stanza and Arthur, Jonah wished he'd opted out of the conversation as well.

His chances with Stanza were looking worse than ever.
How can I compete with King Arthur?

Even as a fish out of water from a bygone era, Arthur had Jonah outclassed. Even in a green polo shirt, tan khakis, and white sneakers, Arthur looked kinglike. The sunglasses he had to wear all the time in broad daylight to protect his sensitive vampire eyes only made him look cooler. Next to him, Jonah was just a skinny wuss with prematurely gray hair in a black Jethro Tull t-shirt and faded bluejeans.

It didn't help that Arthur had been nothing but nice to Jonah since coming through the portal from Lyonesse. Not once on the boat ride from Samson Island to St. Mary's, the ferry to Cornwall, and the train to London and through the Chunnel, had Arthur been less than friendly to Jonah.

I can't even
hate
this guy. No fair.

"Let's see the rest of the train," said Arthur.

"I'll give you the tour." Stanza got up and started down the aisle. "This way."

"Join us?" Arthur said to Jonah.

"I'm gonna catch some sleep," said Jonah, shifting against the headrest.

"See you soon." Arthur smiled and left.

A moment later, Jonah nudged Mavis with his elbow. "They're gone. You can 'wake up' now."

Mavis kept her eyes closed. "You knew I wasn't asleep?"

"You're a bad actress," said Jonah, "but I don't think the mutual fan club caught on."

"I do feel like I could fall asleep, though." Mavis opened her eyes and looked past Jonah out the window. "I think everything's finally catching up with me."

Jonah nodded. "You've been getting the worst of it."

"Stupid me," said Mavis. "Before we went to Lyonesse, I had to go and ask what could be worse than what we'd already been through."

"I guess you found out," said Jonah.

Mavis scowled. "By the way, thanks a lot."

"For what?" said Jonah.

"We said we were going to watch each other's backs. Nice job." Mavis said it sarcastically.

Jonah sighed and threw up his hands. "Geez, Mavis. What the hell could I do?"

"I'd be dead right now if it wasn't for Arthur." Mavis rolled around in her seat, turning her back to him. "I should've known better than to trust you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're just like the rest of your family," said Mavis. "Great at letting people down."

Jonah frowned. Was this the same Mavis who'd had a funeral for his parents in the truck stop parking lot? The same Mavis who'd practically become his surrogate sister? "I don't get it. You and I never even
met
before Stanza brought me to your church."

"We met," said Mavis, "but you don't remember it."

"What?" said Jonah. "When?"

A darker, angrier tone curled through Mavis' voice. "Right after my parents died," she said. "When your parents told me to get lost."

Jonah stared at her back. "When did your parents die?"

Irritably, Mavis flung herself around to face him. "I was five years old. The house burned down, and I was the only one the firemen rescued."

"That's terrible," said Jonah.

"And
your
parents." Mavis' eyes flared with rage. "
Your parents
wouldn't take me in! Their own
niece
...your mother's sister's
daughter
...and they turned me away!"

Jonah shook his head. "That doesn't sound like something they'd do."

"Well, they
did
it!" said Mavis. "I had no other family to stay with! Nowhere to go but
foster homes.
One lousy
foster home
after another!"

Jonah stared into her raging eyes and wondered.

She can't be right. My parents would never do something like that.

Would they?

"You're wrong," he told her.

"I was there!" Mavis' voice was so loud, people were starting to look. "I know what happened!"

"There must've been more to it," said Jonah. "Maybe more than you know."

Mavis stomped her foot on the floor. "You just don't want to
accept
that your parents
ruined
my
life.
"

"Maybe you're the one who doesn't want to accept something," said Jonah.

It was then that Mavis lashed out a hand to slap his face. He caught her by the wrist before she could strike him, and then he held her as she fought to break free.

"That's enough!" he said.

"Your family never stops ruining things!" said Mavis. "First your parents, now you!"

Jonah glared at her. "But I thought you and I were getting along."

"I
let
you think that." Mavis struggled to pull her hand away from Jonah, and he let go of her."I needed someone to watch my
back
. I should've
known
you'd let me down!"

"Right," said Jonah. "And
you
did such a
great
job of watching
my
back in Lyonesse, didn't you?"

Mavis seethed and trembled. "Go to hell."

"You know what?" Jonah got up and pushed past her into the aisle. "Screw this. I'm gonna go see if I can find a drink on this train."

"Go ahead. Bail out on me." Mavis lay down across both seats, using her arms as a pillow. "Your parents taught you well."

Jonah paused, looking down at her. Briefly, he considered trying to talk things over, to get her to see how wrong she was.

If my parents did what she said, they must have had a good reason.

If that was the case, though, what could he possibly say to convince Mavis that she was wrong? Even if he knew anything at all about what had happened, what could he say to stop her from hating him?