Undercurrent (3 page)

“
Certainly not.” The woman’s frown emphasized her pointed chin, especially when she lifted it to look down her ski-jump nose.

This gal had missed her calling. Somewhere a convent must be in desperate need. Cassie edged between her and the desk, half expecting her to produce a large ruler and rap her on the knuckles. “Well, thanks anyway.”

Cassie could feel the woman’s glare all the way to the door. Stepping out into the heat of the sun was a relief.

Her sandals crunched against the gravel walkway, making little puffs of beige dust. Two of her students played photographer in the arbored courtyard, but no sign of Tammy. Tension loosened its grip on her stomach, and she lifted her face to soak in some rays as she followed the length of the stone building. Near the end of the west side, Celtic music wafted out from a small gift shop, and a hand-painted ‘Open’ sign hung in the window.

Cassie stepped inside the doorway, trading sunshine for dim interior lighting, and paused to adjust for the difference. Surprisingly, the walls weren’t crammed with shelves of souvenirs or racks of postcards—not even Farne Islands T-shirts. Only a cheap imitation-gilded mirror hung on one wall, and toward the back of the tiny room stood a glass display case. Nothing too unusual, really, except for the shopkeeper behind it.

The man was tall, crazy tall, and big but not fat. He took up space in a way that an emperor or king could only hope to. Strength rippled beneath the fabric of his shirt as he planted his palms on the glass and leaned forward. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and a sudden urge to run away almost turned her around.

“
Come.” His deep voice frightened and intrigued simultaneously.

Cassie swallowed. What was up with the lump in her throat? Why feel nervous with a two-bit salesman hawking tourist trinkets?

The man cocked his head and studied her. “Do not fear.”

Exactly. Why should she? This was stupid. Cassie threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Do you, uh…you don’t happen to have any safety pins, do you?”

“
Pins? Yes. Safe?” A broad grin lightened his dark features, and he stepped back from the case. “No. You come and look, eh?”

Her mind moved faster than her feet. Definitely not a British accent, rather eastern European. More Baltic—Romanian perhaps. No. The metre and emphasis he used carried a rhythm she couldn’t identify.

“
You see? You like?” He ran his hand along the top of the case, and any interest she’d had in his accent disappeared.

She leaned closer to better view an amazing collection of medieval brooches. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear to their authenticity. Fine silver and gold Celtic knots rested on a bed of scarlet velvet, some with embedded sapphires. Any one of these masterpieces would look so much better at the top of her blouse than a trashy safety pin.

“
I’ll take one.” The words flew out before she thought—and what exactly was she thinking? She couldn’t afford one of these.

“
This one”—he slid open the glass door to his side and pulled out a black silk bag from the very bottom—“is for you.”

He dumped the contents into his hand then stretched out his palm.

The other pins still glimmered, but this one…not silver or gold, but breathtaking. Carved from a single piece of wood, a lacy pattern of loops and interconnected rings surrounded a majestic relief of a great gray wolf. Polished to a fine sheen, its natural aura radiated a warm glow.

“
May I?” At the man’s consent, she lifted the brooch from his hand. Light. Smooth. The perfect size. She’d charge it.

“
I’ll take it.” She set down the pin and rummaged in her tote bag for her Visa. The shopkeeper opened a small plastic bag with the flick of his wrist, but Cassie shook her head. “No, no. I won’t need that. I’m going to wear it. Is this burled oak?”

He put the bag beneath the cash register and ran her card through before answering. “Rowan.”

She frowned. Rowan? She might as well wear a crystal and start balancing her chakras. Still… She studied the brooch once more. New Age or not, it was stunning.

The clerk slid a small slip of paper toward her. Signing her name on a two-hundred-pound receipt gave her palpitations, so she shoved her copy and the silk bag into her tote before she could recant. Then she stepped over to the mirror and adjusted the pin where her top button once resided, clasping it into place. She smiled at its reflection until she realized the shopkeeper stood inches from her back.

“
Safe journey, Cassandra.”

She froze at hearing her name, but of course…he’d seen it on the credit card. So why did the tone in his voice sound like an old friend—one who knew everything about her? She scooted sideways. “Yeah, well, thanks. And, uh, have a good day.”

She bolted out the door and smacked headlong into Tammy. “Dr. L! I’ve been calling and calling. Where’ve you been? You’re about to miss the ferry again. All the rest of the students are on board.”

Cassie almost reached out to hug the sweaty girl for her thoughtfulness, but instead she stepped back and reshouldered her tote bag. How could she have possibly been in the gift shop for that long? Now she’d have to make a repeat performance of her previous ferry boarding.

“
Wow! Where’d you get that?”

Tammy’s big eyes zeroed in on the brooch. Cassie turned and pointed at the gift shop before the girl started drooling. “Right there, but we don’t have time now for—”

Shock jolted through Cassie. Her jaw dropped as she stared at a padlocked door framed by lichen-covered rock next to a spider-webbed window.

“
Right.” Tammy laughed with only half a snort and grabbed hold of Cassie’s arm. “C’mon!”

Impossible! She stared over her shoulder as Tammy tugged her away. Those spider webs hadn’t been there earlier, and that padlock looked rusted shut from years of disuse.

No time now to stop and investigate. With Tammy’s relentless grip dragging her on, dashing to the ferry took on a whole different cadence than running on her own. Sharp bits of gravel exploded like shrapnel from beneath Tammy’s flying flip flops. Flip, flap, slap, ping. A razor-edged chunk zinged into Cassie’s shin, nicking the bare skin. For such a large girl, Tammy could certainly hustle.

The ferry horn blasted as they neared, but mooring ropes still held the boat in place. Good thing, because the hull first smacked against then strained away from the dock, repeating the wild action as a ferocious wind blew in off the North Sea. Cassie exhaled her tension and faced the fierce breeze as Tammy descended the few steps from the dock. The endless blue sky wore only a transparent ribbon of cirrus clouds. Perhaps a storm brewed elsewhere, but not here.

“
Doctor, you coming?”

“
Be right there.” With one hand, Cassie gathered her skirt and with the other, clutched onto the thick rope handrail. Wiry bristles scratched her palm as she held tight in the unrelenting wind. A deckhand, thankfully not the ancient mariner, steadied her on the last few steps, and she finished with much more grace than that of her previous boarding.

“
Let’s go get good seats. I heard Mr. Ahab has more great stories to tell on the way back.” Tammy swung around toward the observation cabin.

“
Mr. Ahab? You’ve got to be kid—” Cassie bit her tongue. Ahab. Right. And Tammy bought it hook, line, and sinker.

“
What?” Tammy looked over her shoulder. A frown lifted her lower lip and a deep fold jiggled along her chin.

“
Uh, I said, you’ve got a great idea. Save a spot for me. I’ll be in shortly.”

Tammy staggered a few steps as the boat lurched from the dock, but she left without further comment.

A twinge of guilt rippled across Cassie’s conscience for her harsh thoughts about the girl, but…they were only thoughts. At least she hadn’t voiced them. She turned and walked into the wind toward the port bow, allowing the remaining remorse to blow away.

It took all her concentration to put one foot in front of the other on the wavering deck. As Holy Island grew smaller, the waves increased. Cassie set down her tote bag and grasped the railing. The North Sea bit the side of the boat, spray licking the skin of her forearms and face. Either the ferry sat lower this time around or the wind had frothed up quite a bit of waves. Staying out here to avoid Tammy and the old man’s cheesy ghost stories would be impossible.

She scanned the horizon one last time to see if storm clouds approached. No thunderheads, but instead a tiny v-shape of black advanced from not too far away. The dark vee traveled fast, faster than the wind, like a precision flight of stealth bombers, and it raced toward the ferry—toward her.

Cassie swallowed even though her mouth dried. Birds. Big black birds. Cormorants?

Couldn’t be, but there they were in a sweeping formation.

Twelve of them.

She held her breath, and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. As much as she wanted to look away, her eyes followed their path. She cringed as they swooped overhead and half expected she’d fly away as if caught up in a dragon’s mouth.

But, no. Without a squawk, or a chirp, or whatever noise a silly cormorant made, the black flock banked toward Lindesfarne, away from her. So much for Old Salty’s tall tales. No island magically appeared, or disappeared for that matter. As near as she could tell, no blood dripped from the birds’ pointed beaks either. No virgin had been kidnapped or—

A hand clamped on her shoulder and her heartbeat shot to panic level. Cassie jumped and whirled around, nose to nose with Mr. Ahab.

“
Ye ought not be out on deck. Sea’s too rough.”

She wanted to retreat from his sardine breath, but her back pressed against the rail. Sea water rained in spurts along her spine, cooling her fear and firing her anger. Who did this guy think he was, ordering her around? Nevertheless, she let her mouth curve up to placate the old fool. “Oh, I’m fine. Really. Just enjoying the air. I’ll be in to listen to more of your charming…”

She couldn’t think of what she’d meant to say as he reached out and grabbed onto her new brooch.

“
Hey!” She wrenched away, unsure if she should be afraid or angry.

“
Take that off.” His voice took on a Doberman growl.

“
Look,” she paused as phrases this old sailor would surely understand came to mind. “I bet any other girl would be flattered, but—”

“
Nay. I’m not comin’ on to ye, lass, if that’s what you think. That charm is bad luck, is what. You’ll come to no good wearin’ such a talisman on the eve of the solstice.”

His hand snaked out again, but Cassie jerked up her own to cover the brooch. “Listen, I don’t believe there is such a thing as luck, bad or good, but I do see that this upsets you. I’ll tuck it away and come listen to your lecture. Just give me a minute.”

One bushy eyebrow rose while the other dipped to nearly cover his squinted, dark eye. “See that you do, miss. See that you do.”

“
Fine.” She lifted her chin, challenging him to say more.

A grunt rumbled up from his chest. With a last evil eye, he retreated and disappeared into the observation cabin.

Cassie let her shoulders droop. Ridiculous, lecherous old man. What a horrible tour. What a horrible day. The narrow bed with its thin mattress at the inn would be heaven tonight.

A crashing wave brought her back to reality. Shocking and icy, it instantly soaked her to the skin, leaving her breathless. She poked her finger into her ear and jiggled, trying to clear out the remaining water as she shivered. But even after cleaning both ears, a gurgling sound remained—and it came from behind.

She looked back, catching sight of a swirl of water, maybe ten feet in diameter, spinning just off the side of the ferry. Like an inverted tornado of seawater, the eddy spun with perfect symmetry.

Drawn to the natural beauty, she turned and steadied herself with both hands on the railing. As she leaned over, a tickling sensation slipped down her chest, feeling like a loose spider. She glanced down, and her breath caught in her throat.

Her pin. Her two-hundred-pound pin was taking a freedive.

Oh, no. Not this time.

She lunged, stretching until her fingertips just about had it. The railing bit into her stomach as she leaned farther, fumbling.

Only a little more, I’ve almost got it—

Her sandals slipped on the wet deck, and her balance gave way.

The brooch made a perfect arc before it disappeared into the undercurrent.

So did Cassie.

THREE

Morning sun bled through Alarik’s tunic, coaxing him to yield to the pervasive fatigue that weighed on him like a sodden, woolen mantle. Nigh on four days of putting distance between himself and Rogaland had left him tired and ill-humored. Lapping waves against the side of the faering lulled him back toward sleep, though it’d been nary an hour since he’d broken his fast.

His chin lowered, and his eyelids drooped. Oh, for Signy’s gentle touch and soft embrace. He yearned to feel her smooth skin beneath his hands. How long would it be until he’d hold her in his arms again? How long until Ragnar—

The uncertainty of Ragnar’s survival lay sour upon his tongue, and he spit over the side of the boat. Did Ragnar yet live? He lifted his face to the sky and scanned the endless blue.