Gray's Domain: Purgatorium Series, Book Two (3 page)

“Well, Brock
is
a competitive swimmer,” Daphne said. “He’s hard to beat.”

Daphne was surprised when Bridget took her by the elbow and said, “So how did you like last night? Thrilling, wasn’t it?”

Daphne gave her a smile and a nod. “Actually, yes.”

“Just wait,” Bridget said. “It gets even better.”

“Come on, Cam!” Dave howled. “You’re pathetic!”

Vince covered his mouth and giggled.

“What are you laughing at?” Dave teased. Then he shoved Vince into the pool, soaking him, clothes and all.

The other regulars busted out laughing.

Vince popped up with a smile and pointed at Dave. “This isn’t over.”

Everyone laughed again. Then Cam pulled himself up on the deck, panting for air.

“Oh, God,” he said between breaths. “Brock’s killing me.”

Dave extended a hand to Vince, who tried to pull him in but failed. Dave easily lifted the skinny Vince out of the water, and at that moment, Daphne realized the two boys were lovers—something in the way they looked at one another.

Brock was still swimming, unaware that the race was over.

“Should we leave him there?” Emma said in a soft voice. “Sneak away and let him figure it out?”

The group agreed, and all but Cam and Daphne left the pool area, going in different directions.

Daphne found a towel neatly folded on a nearby lounger and handed it to Cam.

“I think that’s Brock’s,” Cam said. “He was swimming laps before I got here. I can’t believe he’s still going.”

“It’s what he does. Here. Take it. He won’t mind. It’ll probably be dry by the time he’s done.”

Cam took the towel and rubbed it through his hair. “Listen. There’s a new boy here, a sixteen-year-old.”

“Here for therapy?”

“Yeah. So if I say something—I don’t know—strange sounding, just go with it, okay?”

Daphne looked at him sideways. “How strange sounding?”

“Just be ready to improvise. He’s had a rough time. Dr. Gray says he keeps his emotions suppressed—won’t face them—and it’s up to us to help bring them to the surface.”

“What happened to him?”

“His mom abandoned him when he was five. It took the state two years to track down his dad, but the dad didn’t want him. Then he was abused by a foster father for, like, three years. Apparently he was in a good home after that for two years, but when the mother died of cancer, the foster dad checked out and returned the kid to the state. A wealthy family adopted him, and after trying everything else to help him with his drug problem, they sent him here.”

“Poor guy.”

“Yeah. He’s pretty bad off.”

“What’s his name?”

“Giovanni.”

Daphne turned the silver bracelet around and around her left wrist. Then she asked, “Are you sure scaring the crap out of him
is best?”

“Absolutely.”

As they each sat on a lounger to wait for Brock, Daphne asked, “Are Vince and Dave a couple?”

Cam frowned. “They don’t want anyone to know, but everyone does. We just can’t let Vince’s dad find out.”

“It shouldn’t be hard here on the island.”

“Oh, but it is. Vince’s dad is Dr. Reynolds.”

“Seriously?” She hadn’t seen that coming—though now that she thought about it, they were both tall, thin, and quiet. 

“He’s nice enough, but he doesn’t pay much attention to Vince—in my opinion, anyway. And I’ve seen him lose it—berate Vince in front of everybody. I think Lee is in love with Hortense and doesn’t really care about anything else.”

Daphne was about to ask more when Brock climbed from the pool and snatched his towel from Cam’s hands.

“You mind?” Brock asked.

Cam laughed. “Sorry, man.”

“No worries.”

After pondering the new information about the regulars, Daphne was brought back to her senses by the sound of a helicopter above them.

All three of them turned their faces toward the sky, but only one of them couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

Chapter Three: Bird Trail

Later that morning, Roger drove Daphne and her parents up the canyon ridge to Prisoners Harbor, where the bird hiking trail began near the pier. On the way, Daphne sat beside Roger in the front of the jeep, and twice, he turned his eyes to hers and gave her a conspiratorial wink. As excited as Daphne was about the impending game, she was also nervous and a little frightened, because she didn’t know what was coming. She only knew what she had shared with Hortense about her parents’ fears. No script or preparation had been given to her. Her only instructions were to play along and to never break the illusion. She hoped she wouldn’t mess up and give the game away. She bit the inside of her lip, psyching herself up to be brave, serious, and strong.

As they passed Central Valley, Daphne shuddered in spite of its lush, grassy knolls, sparkling stream, and purple mountain glory, because she was reminded of what, just days ago, she’d almost done. Again that seemed so long ago and so very stupid to her now, but the memory of pressing her face into the stream and waiting for her lungs to burn was still fresh and biting.

The jeep wound along the canyon ridge and up to the peak above Prisoners Harbor, where it came to a stop beneath a scraggily tree and a series of picnic tables. A
wooden outhouse and kayak rental were just past the tree toward the pier, and out in the harbor were hundreds of boats. As they climbed from the jeep with the binoculars Roger had given them, they turned in the direction of the squawking pelicans.

“Look at them all,” Daphne said, pointing down to the harbor. “Aren’t they amazing?”

Her father fixed his binoculars on them. “Sure are. I’d like to get a picture once we get a little closer.”

“You brought your camera?” Daphne asked.

“’Course I did.”

She hoped he hadn’t taken any photos of the
Limuw ritual. Just the possibility of this renewed her need to get revenge.

Roger took off his white straw cowboy hat and waved it toward the pier. “You can see the large population of pelicans in Pelican Bay, and as we move along this ridge toward the trailhead, scan farther east for other coastline species.”

“Like what?” Daphne’s mother, Sharon, asked.

Roger ran a hand through his graying hair before returning the hat to his head. “For example over there, all by its lonesome, see that big white bird?” Roger pointed to a jetty west of the pelicans. “That there’s the great egret.” A pair of gulls flew overhead. “And the gulls are all over the place. Sometimes you’ll see blue herons, too.”

They followed Roger down the hill toward the pier.

“Don’t forget the bald eagle,” Daphne added.

“That’s a rare sight,” Roger said. “And usually in Central Valley.”

“What about those black birds over there?” her dad asked, pointing to a pair at the very edge of the shoreline.

“Them there are black oyster catchers. They mostly nest in the gravely shoreline on this side of the island. I’m glad you got to see ‘em, ‘cause you won’t see ‘em where I’m taking you now, in the woods. That’s where the rare birds are.”

Roger led them to the west of the pier down a trail that ran parallel to the shore but farther inland, through a belt of oaks. Daphne had not yet explored this part of the island, except in a kayak along the shoreline, and was surprised by the shade trees. With the exception of the ancient oak on the other side of the island near Bowen Point and the woodsy area near the naval tower, she’d not seen trees tall and full enough to make decent shade.

As Roger led them into the woods, he said in a hushed voice, “This here is the best place to spot the island scrub jay. They fly all over the island, but they like to nest in these trees. And the Channel Islands are the only places in the whole world where you can find them. Keep your voices down so as not to scare ‘em away. You’re bound to see other rare beauties here, too, like the pigeon guillemot. You can tell it from other birds by its red feet. It’s black with a white patch on its wings and pretty rare.” As they followed him beneath the oaks, he added, “But the rarest of all are xantus’s murrelets. There’s a cave past these woods where they’re known to nest. We’ll check it out.”

He turned to Daphne and gave her another wink. She took this to mean something was going to happen in the cave. A surge of adrenaline moved through her. She wished Brock hadn’t opted to nap in his room. She would have loved to see his reaction to whatever was coming.

As they hiked down the trail, Roger pointed out a number of birds, including two island scrub jays, which Daphne’s dad successfully captured in a photo. Although the trees shaded Daphne and her fellow hikers from the heat of the sun, there was less of a breeze, making the air muggy and hot. Daphne frequently stopped to sip from her water bottle. The scarf on her head only added to the heat, but she didn’t dare take it off. She hated the way she looked without her long, brown hair.

Soon they came to a rocky cave. Daphne’s heart rate increased with anticipation. She hoped she wasn’t expected to go inside. Why would Hortense design an exercise that pushed Daphne out of
her
comfort zone? Daphne’s therapy was over.

Roger stopped the group and waved them in closer to him, where he spoke in a quiet voice.

“As I said, xantus’s murrelet is one of the rarest endangered birds in the world. People come from all over to spot them on this here island.” He took off his straw cowboy hat and fanned his face. “This cave is known to have some, and believe me, they never leave their nests except at night. Thing is, we gotta be careful not to disturb them, on the count of ‘em being so rare.”

“I guess that means no pictures,” Joe said.

“That’s right. No pictures ‘cause the flash will scare ‘em. No talking. You can take a long look as long as you stay real still. I’ll go in with each one of you, one at a time, and show you the nests with my flashlight. There were two nests in there last week.” He returned his hat to his head and looked around at them. “Who wants to go first?”

“Not me,” Daphne said.

“Joe, you go,” Sharon said.

Daphne felt her heart pounding with anticipation. She wondered what would really be inside the cave. Her body tensed.
She
was not going into the cave, no matter what.

As Roger led her dad through the three-foot-by-three-foot opening, she and her mother exchanged worried glances. Why was her mother worried?

Her mother said, “You don’t have to go in if you’re not up to it, Daph.”

Daphne shrugged. “I can probably do it, but you go first, okay?”

Her mother gave her a gentle smile. “It’s been nice, spending time out here with you today.” Tears formed in the corners of Sharon’s eyes and her fingers trembled as she adjusted the wide headband holding back her frosted hair. “It’s been too long, Honey.”

Daphne looked at her sneakers as the warmth rushed to her already hot face.

“Have you forgiven us, then?” her mother asked.

“I’m working on it,” Daphne answered truthfully.

Her mother patted her shoulder and said, “That’s good to hear, sweetheart.”

Daphne choked back the lump in her throat and pretended to be interested in something above them in the trees.

Soon Roger and Joe crept from the cave. When they were far enough away from the entrance, Joe said, “They’re incredible. Beautiful white-breasted black birds. Never seen anything like them.”

Daphne’s chin jutted back in surprise. She hadn’t expected the birds to actually be inside the cave. She glanced over at Roger, who gave her another mysterious wink.

“Sharon?” Roger asked. “Ready?”

Daphne’s mother followed Roger into the dark cave. While they waited, she turned to study her father, who was
scrolling through the digital images he’d captured on the back of his camera. He’d recently buzzed his hair again. Even though he had retired from the army years ago, he always buzzed his gray hair in the summertime, and if it weren’t for the pot belly hanging over his belt and the worry lines around his eyes and forehead, he’d still look like a jarhead.

He took a few sideways steps closer to her and said, “Take a look at this one. You can see them really good.”

Two birds nested in a shelf of rock. One looked directly at the camera.

“I thought Roger said no pics,” Daphne said.

“I turned off the flash. I didn’t think the birds would show up, but the dim light of the flashlight worked.”

Daphne nodded.

Unexpectedly, her father put an arm around her shoulders. “How’s my little girl doing?”