Spirits of Ash and Foam (31 page)

On cue, Ariel reached over and opened another small compartment in the dash. Miranda stared, at first not realizing what the colorful bits of fabric were. Then she took a step closer and knew: Inside the glove box was a collection of rolled-up tankinis and one-piece suits from Miranda's dresser drawer at home.

Miranda sighed a thank you, though even she wasn't sure if the sigh signified gratitude for the swimwear or despair over losing her last excuse not to dive. She offered Renée a choice of suits and grabbed a black one-piece for herself. Renée chose a shiny green tankini, as there were no bikinis available to prove her earlier point.

Charlie was assiduously staring at his flippers until Renée suggested he turn around and not peek. Very, very flustered, Charlie flipper-slapped to the front of the boat to watch the Aunties frolic, mumbling, “I wasn't peeking,” while Miranda and Renée changed rapidly. To be honest, it took
all
his willpower not to sneak a look.

Rain also looked away.

Ariel killed the engine. By this time, they were just a couple of football fields away from Witch's Finger. The dolphins stopped too, halfway between the speedboat and the shore. Ariel checked everyone's gear, pausing only briefly to give Miranda a questioning look. They both knew Miranda was trained to dive—and they both knew she had never really taken to it.

“I'll be fine,” Miranda whispered with more confidence than she felt.

Rain had a last-minute idea and—while Ariel occupied Renée's attention, checking her tank—leaned toward Miranda and whispered, “Plan hasn't changed. Soon as we get close to
anything,
pretend you're having trouble. Keep Renée busy.” Rain could see Miranda's relief through her diving mask. Pretending she wasn't great at diving was something she could definitely manage.

She said to Renée, “Could you stick close to me down there? I'm not really very good at this.”

Renée stared at her, still at a complete loss as to what they hoped to accomplish with this dive—and half convinced they were planning some kind of humiliation for her in advance of what she didn't yet have planned for them. Nevertheless, she said, “Of course, Sugar. Whatever you need.”

Then Rain and Charlie sat on the edge of the boat and allowed themselves to fall backward into the water. Renée and Miranda took their places and did the same.

It had been a hot and humid day, and the water in Back Bay was swimming-pool warm and refreshing. Rain swam down, swam up and checked her breathing. All seemed well. Charlie moved into position beside her. She looked around to get her bearings. Miranda and Renée were right behind them. The dolphin pod was presumably in front, but even in the clear Caribbean blue, they were too far ahead to be visible. She and Charlie exchanged a look and a nod and swam forward toward the Aunties' last known position. She knew that in the time it took the four teens to get to where the dolphins had last been sighted, the pod could easily vanish, but Rain took the fact that they still taunted her with her father's camera as a promising sign. They knew she was there; they knew she couldn't catch them; they wouldn't run.
They want to play.

Minutes later, Rain spotted her first dolphin and pointed it out to the others. They kicked their flippers harder to catch up. There they all were: six Aunties, three pups, a manatee and one stolen camera, which was juggled between one dolphin or another—even the Kimlets participated in the game of keep away.

In fact, the smallest dolphin—Michael Kim Dolphin—let it fall from his mouth. It floated there, just barely out of Rain's reach. She probably could have gotten to it before Michael but made the split-second decision not to lose track of why she was there. Rain needed kids, dolphins and manatee to trust her. Taking their stuff—even if it was really Rain's stuff (or in any case, Rain's father's stuff)—was not going to help. She let it float. Michael swam back for it but was beaten to the camera by the biggest of the pups, presumably Wendy Kim Dolphin, who tossed it to John Kim Dolphin as Michael followed along behind.

One of the Aunties took the camera from John, freeing the Kimlets to play without concern. They swam close to each of the teens, lingering particularly around their favorite, Miranda, who gently stroked each in turn. Even Renée, forgetting why they had theoretically come—let alone why she had chosen to tag along—was enchanted. She also reached out to stroke the pups. Michael shied away from her, but Wendy and John clearly enjoyed Renée's attentions.

And all three pups clearly enjoyed teasing Rain. They'd glide in close to her and then quickly back away, snickering. (Obviously, they still hadn't forgiven her for interfering with their first chance to join Aycayia's family.) As with the camera, Rain resisted the urge to reach out and wrap her arms around a Lost Kim and hold on tight. She knew she'd never be able to maintain her grip on one, let alone all three, and she certainly couldn't transform them back—though she did wonder what her healing snake might accomplish and made an effort to rub the
zemi
against one pup or another every chance she got. But neither the charm nor the Kimlets responded to the contact in any way.

Aycayia, meanwhile, was gradually leading the Lost Boys and Girl toward the Punta shore. Rain and Charlie, and to a lesser extent Miranda and Renée, were following. Then three of the Aunties slid into place between Rain and the Kimlets, creating a sea-mammal screen to run interference for Her. There were bubbles everywhere, coming from the teens' regulators and from the movement of the dolphins, and Rain's vision became obscured. But she didn't need a clear view to know where she needed to be. She had a plan and stuck to it: She'd follow Aycayia and the Kims to land—hopefully before sunset—and make her appeal to all four of them. The dolphins crowded around her, bumping her occasionally, pushing her back. Charlie set his own screens when he could, though, and Rain was able to make slow but steady progress.

The Aunties tried another tack. One of them grabbed the camera and glided within reach of Rain, hoping to lure her off. Rain didn't take the bait and continued forward with deliberate determination.

Now the smiles of the Six Sisters seemed to turn sinister. They became more aggressive, slapping at Rain and Charlie with their tails, bumping them harder. Not for a moment, however, did she think these six loving Aunties would truly risk hurting four thirteen-year-olds. When they pushed, she pushed gently back, calling their bluff. So the Sisters tried something more desperate.

One of the dolphins—First Sister, Rain was sure—swam right up to her. As Rain moved to swim around the creature, the Auntie slid her beak behind Rain's air tube and abruptly yanked to the right. The regulator popped right out of Rain's mouth. The Auntie swam away, but Rain kept her cool and calmly returned the regulator to her lips. A noise caused her to glance back over her shoulder.

Three other Sisters had perpetrated the same trick on Charlie, Renée and Miranda. The latter was panicking. At first Rain thought—or at least hoped—it was merely an act: Miranda's attempt to feign distress to distract Renée. It soon became clear Miranda wasn't faking anything. She thrashed about, unable to breathe, unable to either grab her regulator or even surface. Renée was doing better and had returned her regulator to her mouth, but she was also a bit freaked and too distracted to notice Miranda's distraction.

Leave it to Charlie to save the day. Having recovered his own regulator, he swam up to Miranda and grasped her shoulders. She struggled, but he slid his hands down to her arms and held tight, until she steadied. He grabbed up her regulator and slowly placed it back in her mouth. Then, with a glance back at Rain—who nodded—he swam up to the surface, still holding Miranda's arm. Renée followed them.

Rain continued on alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THREE PEARLS

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 17

The drums were back, building in her head as she swam toward shore in pursuit of Aycayia and the Kimlets. The Sisters approached—perhaps to shut Rain out again—but before they could, she shot them a
don't mess with me now
look borrowed from her mother, and they peeled off and out of her way.

Or maybe the dolphins simply knew this confrontation was inevitable.

The water became shallow. Rain surfaced, pulling out her regulator and pulling off her mask, in time to see Aycayia very close to the beach, working her beautiful form free of her manatee skin, of her animal identity. The three pups played nearby, swirling in circles. Rain turned around. The Aunties were behind her, spread out in a half circle, as if cordoning off the area. First Sister had Alonso's camera. Beyond them, Rain could make out Ariel helping Charlie, Miranda and Renée back onto the boat. Charlie glanced Rain's way—then pointed in the opposite direction. The boat sped off, leaving Rain alone. The stage, so to speak, was set.

Rain faced forward again, in time to see Aycayia stand, half in and half out of the water. The manatee skin was folded neatly in her arms, and her arms were folded across her breasts, but otherwise she was nude—at least from the waist up. Rain was flushed and embarrassed but could no longer risk looking away.
I might not get another chance.
The light was low; the shadows, long. She pulled off her flippers, found her own footing in the soft silt beneath the short waves and began walking toward Her.

Aycayia watched Rain approach, allowed Rain to approach—then seemed to regret it, realizing Rain now stood
between
her and the swirling, chattering Wendy, John and Michael. Rain saw anger flare in the Manatee-Woman's eyes. Aycayia took a step toward the pups, but Rain stopped her with a word.

“Sorry.”

Aycayia pulled up short and studied Rain, as if suspecting a trick.

Rain went on, “I'm sorry for what they did to you. Not just Guanayoa, but First Chief and First Shaman too. They didn't understand, but that's no excuse. My name is Rain Cacique. My father is Alonso Cacique, and my mother is Iris Bohique.” She pointed at the
zemi
on her arm. “I am heir to First Chief and First Shaman. I am the Searcher and the Healer, and I ask you, Aycayia … for your forgiveness.”

Aycayia the Cursed stared, and Rain wondered if the Manatee-Woman understood. Rain thought about repeating the apology in Spanish, but Aycayia was from a time before any European had arrived on these shores, and Rain didn't know the true language of the Taíno. All she could do was hope that
somehow
her meaning—if not her words—would bridge the distance.

“I'm sorry for the child you lost,” Rain said. “I can't imagine that pain. I hope … I hope it's something I never truly know. Once, not that long ago, I had a taste of it. I lost my grandfather for just a little while, and it was almost unbearable. So what you've been through … well, I … I don't have the words. But I can see the pain in you … and in Mrs. Kim—the mother of these three children.”

Rain glanced back at the pups. They were no longer swimming in circles. Their little bottlenosed heads poked out of the water,
listening
to Rain—
but watching Her
. Rain wanted to do something to attract their attention, something to create eye contact, but she could
feel
Aycayia's gaze upon her and intuitively knew any movement along those lines would be regarded as a threat. So Rain held still, save for turning her head toward Aycayia again.

“I want to help you,” Rain said. “I want to ease your pain and prove that my…” She searched for the right word. “That my
remorse
is, um, sincere.” Slowly, tentatively, she reached out with her left hand. Even so, Aycayia flinched as if expecting Rain to strike her—or perhaps to make a grab for her manatee skin. Rain paused, and Aycayia settled. Rain reached out again and with just two fingers grazed the perfect copper skin of Aycayia's right arm.

Simultaneously, the eyeless snake on Rain's charm began to glow. The golden light raced down Rain's arm to her hand to those two fingers, making the jump to Aycayia's arm and vanishing inside her. Aycayia didn't smile or sigh, but for a few short seconds, she closed her eyes and felt the
zemi
's healing power. For what it was worth. Rain knew Aycayia's wounds could never truly be healed by an armband. Still, maybe it could dull the pain enough—just long enough—to open her up to Rain's plea …

“I know it's not enough,” Rain said. “Nothing could ever be enough to ease your pain. Not even these three kids. They can help—for a while. They can distract you. But really they're only reminders of what was yours and is gone. Forever. They can't take your pain away anymore than I can. And in the meantime, you are hurting their mother and father. Hurting them the way you were hurt. But this time
you
have the power to heal. You can heal an entire family by giving those kids back.”

Aycayia opened her eyes. She looked at Rain with an overwhelming sadness that made Rain want to wrap her arms around Her, to stay with Her forever. But the spell was quickly broken as the beautiful woman shifted her gaze toward the Kimlets. She smiled sadly and then slowly turned her head back to meet Rain's eyes.

Neither moved nor spoke. Rain was out of words. Frankly, I was amazed she had been as eloquent as she was. Then she spoiled the moment.

“Um, if it helps, you can keep the camera.”

Aycayia smiled. She opened her mouth and a sound emerged that was something like the bark of a seal. (Certainly not a bark any self-respecting canine would utter.) Rain briefly feared the Manatee-Woman would try to speak in Sea Mammalese and grow angry when Rain didn't understand.

But Aycayia was merely clearing a throat that hadn't uttered a human syllable in centuries. When she spoke again, her voice was halting yet melodious. It was the voice of a Siren, for there was nothing about Aycayia the Cursed that wasn't beautiful, enchanting. She said, “You seek a prize that isn't mine to offer, Searcher.”