Siren's Storm (24 page)

“Yeah.” He laughed bitterly. “And by ‘all right,’ do you mean ‘completely fucked up’?”

Asia winced. “All I can tell you is that once I fulfill my promise, they should depart.”

“So why don’t you do it, then?”

Asia looked at him for a long time, and he read the
pain in her eyes. “I suppose you could say that I am weak,” she said finally.

Will ran his hands over his face. “Does Kirk Worstler know what you are?”

“I think so.”

“Why? How?”

Asia shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“How can you do it?” Will’s voice was almost a whisper.

Asia did not look at him. “I have no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

Asia looked into his eyes. “Not every story has a happy ending, Will,” she told him.

“Have you ever told anyone what you are?” Will asked.

“A human? No.”

“So—why are you trusting me?”

“You already knew half the truth, and yet I sensed no danger from you. Besides, I know how it feels to lose someone. I know how badly you want answers.…”

Will placed a hand against his face, feeling the scar beneath his fingertips. “Why didn’t Calypso kill me?”

Asia shook her head. “That is not for me to say.”

Will laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “It’s the only question I care about.”

“I know, Will. I understand completely. And I wish that I could help you,” The sadness in her voice was like a heavy weight—like an anchor dropping deep into the sea. Will could almost feel the heft of it. “But I don’t have the answer.”

Will felt the rumble of the motorcycle in his whole body. The heavy vibrations shook him, rattling his bones as he sped down the black ribbon of road. His mind was still spinning from everything Asia had told him, and the noise and motion felt soothing to him. It felt normal—mortal.

Will’s single headlight picked up a motion, and he swerved to avoid hitting the thing that had staggered into the road.

It threw up an arm and recoiled, and Will—too late—slammed on the brakes. The motorcycle shuddered, skidding to a stop. Will let it tumble onto its side behind him as he raced toward the man in the road. Will ripped off his helmet and dropped to his knees beside the limp form, which had fallen face-first onto the asphalt.

Gingerly Will turned the figure over.

“Oh my God.” His voice was a strangled murmur when he caught sight of the person’s face. He was young—a teenager—and pale. His eyes were huge and dark, his pupils dilated to the width of his irises. The whites of his eyes stood out in the darkness.

He looked up at Will with those wild eyes, and his face seemed to register something. He opened his cracked lips to release a strangled voice. “I know you,” the boy whispered.

“Jesus Christ!” Will lifted the boy’s head into the crook of his arm. “Kirk?”

Kirk laughed then, but it was a laugh without humor. “They’ve come for her.” He grabbed Will by the collar, smearing the blue and white cotton of Will’s shirt with blood. “The bay holds no fear. The fury must awake! Now is the time—they’re waiting!”

Will struggled to free himself from Kirk’s grip, but the crazy kid wasn’t letting go.
What’s he doing here? Isn’t he supposed to be in Hampton Bays?

Will looked down at Kirk’s feet. He wasn’t wearing shoes. His feet were bloody.

Kirk’s teeth were gritted. “I’ve called to them.” He
spat the words rather than said them. “They’re waiting! I hear them!”

“What?”

But Kirk choked. He coughed, spitting up blood, and released Will from his iron grasp. He fell back then, knocking his head nastily against the pavement.

“Kirk?” Will hauled him back into his arms. “Kirk?”

But Kirk had passed out.

Will looked over at his bike. He wasn’t sure he could get Kirk to the hospital that way. Instead he pulled out his cell phone.

What is it with Kirk Worstler?
Will wondered as he dialed 911.
Why does he always need me to save his life?

“Is he awake? Is he talking?” Angus slid into the soft chair beside Will in the hospital waiting room, talking a mile a minute. “Dude, tell me what he said—this is crazy.”

Will put his hand to his head. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Getting the scoop, man, what else?”

“But how did you even know—”

“Uncle Barry let me borrow a police scanner.” Angus stood up and took a few steps toward the ER. “Is he—” Then he caught sight of some movement behind a curtain, and took off.

Will reluctantly hauled himself out of the comfortable chair. It was a beautiful hospital, made plush for the wealthy summer people who hurt themselves in a
fishing accident or while slicing a bagel. Everything in the Walfang hospital was nicer than it needed to be.

Will wandered down the hallway, admiring the clean white walls adorned with black-and-white nature photos. But there was no way to make the beeping machines and medical equipment look elegant. The doctors and nurses in their blue scrubs, too, seemed like ugly afterthoughts in a pristine architectural concept.

Kirk was lying on a white bed half hidden by a gray curtain, with Angus hovering over him.

“How many, do you think?” Angus asked. “One? More than one?”

Kirk looked blank. “I don’t remember.” His voice was hoarse, as if he had just spent a week in the desert. A mauve plastic pitcher sat by the bedside, next to a stack of plastic cups.

“Look, try to remember. If there’s some kind of gang—”

“This isn’t the Crips and the Bloods, Angus.” Will poured some water into a cup and handed it to Kirk, who took it, gulping madly. “It’s Walfang. We have cows. Kirk’s just torn up because he dragged himself from one end of the island to the other.”

“Thanks,” Kirk said when he had finished, handing the cup back to Will.

“Are you the interviewee?” Angus asked.

“What’s happening?” Kirk asked. It was strange to hear him sounding so lucid—as if the drugs had worn off and he’d come back to himself, finally. He had a
small voice, almost like a child’s, and it made Will feel protective.

“Nothing. Just … don’t worry about it,” Will told him. “Angus, leave him alone.”

“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.

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.