The Lie Spinners (The Deception Dance) (49 page)

The
messenger boy and the old man lay the giant sack on the wood floor of
one of the empty open pens.

While
the old man deftly unties the strings holding the bag together, the
boy walks over to a water filled pig-troth and dunks his head in the
water. The water immediately shoots up steam, and when the boy raises
his head the steam rolls off him—her. Long dry black hair falls
and sends off white vapor as it lands about the shoulders of a woman,
when the steam clears, I see it’s May.

Thank
God.

I
turn back to the sack to see the old man split open the canvas to
reveal Linnie.

“
Oh
my god,” slips out of my lips, “Oh my god.”

I
fall to my knees. Then crawl into the stall to my sister.

Like
me, something The Spider did turned Linnie’s short
multi-colored hair cut back to its natural brown. Other than her
hair, she looks exactly as she did when I last saw her. Same clothes,
same everything, as if it’s a minute rather than a month later.
And she’s still unconscious, eyes moving behind closed lids.

“
You
need to move Raven, I do not have the time,” May says from
behind me.

I
crawl back out of the stall but enter the stall next to Linnie’s
to hang over the dividing half wall.

May
climbs in until she’s almost, but not quite, leaning on my
sister. When May says something to the old man in Thai, he hands her
a roll of material, obviously they prepared for this. May stuffs the
material into Linnie's mouth and says to me, “Don’t
interrupt, no matter what. Understand? This will hurt your sister.”

“
Is
there any—?”

“
No,”
She says, curtly. She signals to the old man who walks to the pen
that the pigs are in, reaches in and scoops up the piglet. The
reactions from the other pigs are immediate and loud. What I can only
assume is the mother starts screaming a protest, and in seconds the
other hogs are joining.

Another
muffled cry draws my attention back, Linnie’s cry. May’s
hands grasp either side of Linnie’s head, brown hair feeding
through her fingers.

Linnie’s
eyes are still closed but the whole rest of her body jerks. Linnie
sobs, tears drip down the cheeks of her braced head while gasping
sobs rip out her mouth. “Daddy...” Linnie sobs.

“
Linnie!”
I say.

A
gust of heat blasts out of them like an ignited furnace. Within
moments sweat drips down my face; my throat and eyes dry; I step
back, closing my eyes.

Just
barely over the screams of the pigs, I hear Linnie sobbing. Covering
my face dried blood from my lip flakes onto my palm.

Blinking
my eyes open, I see May stand. The old man returns the piglet to its
pen and its mother. He brushes off his hands and says something to
May before climbing the stairs. Uncovering my ears I hear a couple
squeals, and then they quiet.

May’s
breaths come heavy and loud. She carefully steps out of the pen,
going to the water troth again and dunking her hands in, sending up
another cloud of steam. I rush forward to lean over the pen wall and
look down at my sister.

Linnie
blinks as if the dim flickering light in this cabin is too much. Her
eyes look glazed, confused. “Raven?” she says in a hoarse
voice. I run around the pen wall and tumble down beside her. Holding
her so tightly that I’m probably hurting both of us, but I
can’t force myself to loosen my grip. Running fingers through
her brown hair I press her warm wet cheek to my dry one.

“
Linnie,
Linnie, Linnie...” I can’t stop saying her name.

“
Shut
the windows,” She cries, “Where is that voice coming
from? We need to get out of here!”

Oh,
God.

I
lift away from her meeting her frantic gaze as she peers around the
boat cabin. “We did, Linnie. You passed out. We’re on a
boat; we’re getting out of here.”

“
Okay,”
she sighs. She raises her head fighting her eyelids to stay open,
“But he’ll sink it.”

“
No,
he can’t, we made sure of it,” I say, stroking her head.
“We’re going to escape. We’ll be safe.”

She
exhales, her eyes closing. “Okay.”

“
Wake
up,” I say, shaking her, “Don’t pass out.”

“
You
should let her,” May says from behind me, “let her sleep.
She’ll wake, I promise.”

I
spin to look at May.

“
Thank
you so much. Thank you. I will never be able to thank you enough for
this,” I tell her. “She’s...she’s everything
to me, and thank you.”

May
stares at me for a couple long seconds, not responding, a very
serious expression on her face.

“
...what?”
I ask, relief flipping to terror in an instant.

She
looks like she’s going to say something, and then shakes her
head. “You are welcome. My uncle is preparing to leave,
hopefully very soon after I disembark.”

“
May,”
I say, standing. “May, tell me, please.”

She
shakes her head again, sucking her lip into her mouth then releasing
it. “It’s too late,” she says, “You leave
with your sister.”

I
grab onto the stall door for support. “Where is Stephen?”

She
squeezes closed her eyes. “I don’t know what he was
trying to do. He interrupted the first stages of the summoning. Maybe
he was trying to stop Mængmum from conjuring the demon, but
nothing will stop Mængmum...I don’t understand, it went
against all our plans, and now—”

“
Where
is he?”

“
You
can’t go back to the web, Raven. Mængmum raises the demon
tonight, the web will likely fail; you will be killed, and then we
all will.”

“
If—”
I intend to say, ‘if Stephen dies, I’ll die,’ but
that same force Madeline spelled me with cuts off my words.

“
I
brought you your sister, now you need to leave with her; that is what
we discussed,” May says.

“
I
can’t leave without him,” I whisper, “I will not do
it, I’m sorry.”

May
crosses to the steps, then turns. “I am sorry too, but you
won’t be able to leave with him either. Mængmum has him.
It is too late.”

Day
Forty-One (continued)

I
stand at the precipice of my first vision, knowing I have to plunge
over.

“
I’m
so sorry,” I whisper to my sleeping sister as I smooth back her
hair. “I know I’m leaving you to pretty much wake up from
a month long coma alone in a pig boat, except for a man who I’m
pretty sure doesn’t speak English. I know that abandoning you
is just about the most horrendous thing I could do to you right now;
but the truth is: you’ll be off this island and I just can’t
leave Stephen to die. Even if my life didn’t depend on it, and
even if it’s too late, I know I would go after him.” I
clear my throat.

Stuffing
every baht I have remaining into her pocket which is quite a bit as
Stephen had given me all his remaining tip money, I roll her to her
side so that the money is under her. Grabbing the clipboard I noticed
earlier on the stall door, I use the pen tied to it with a string to
write a message on Linnie’s arm:

Fare
paid. Stayed. Stephen in danger. Make sure Surat Thani before get off
boat.

Get
help. Do not return! Go home. I love you.

Even
keeping the message simple, it spans in two lines from her wrist to
elbow. Only when I feel the motor start do I give Linnie a kiss on
the forehead and abandon my sister.

After
crawling up the stairs I stop to peer out of the room where May’s
uncle first led me. To sneak out or tell him I’m leaving? I
quickly decide on the former; I don’t know what instructions
May gave her uncle, but I’m suspicious it might be something
like: don’t leave without the black-haired girl.

The
old man appears to be managing the boat entirely on his own, which
hopefully will mean that he won’t be able to check on us and
find me missing until he arrives in Surat Thani.

I
get my opportunity to slip off the boat right after he pulls up the
gang plank. He crosses into a small room I assume is for driving the
boat and I leap off while he fiddles with something. Without slowing,
I dash behind the next boat, one of the colorful fishing boats.
Breathing big gasps of salty, fishy air, I wait behind the boat,
listening for May’s uncle turning off the motor or calling out
or any other type of sign that he noticed my escape. A couple tense
minutes pass before the boat pulls back from its spot on the dock.

Beside
the fishing boat, I stand on the dock, watching the pig boat cross
the moonlit ocean until it’s far enough that I’m positive
it shows no signs of turning around.

I
needed to see her go.

I
need to see her gone.

Taking
a steadying breath, I sprint back to the Jeep (that I intended to
abandon), dodging people and motorbikes. The drive back to Haad Rin
passes in a blur of truck-taxis and pedestrian traffic. I’m in
no state to drive, and almost hit more than one stumbling party-goer.
The alleys of Haad Rin, usually at least passable by car, are clogged
with foot traffic and I end up having to re-abandon the Jeep almost a
mile away from the club. Joining the beach-heading foot traffic, I
let the crowd sweep me toward the beach, toward my vision.

When
I’m in the exact spot of my vision, I feel it.
The
scene fits into my mind like a missing memory, the now so familiar
long stretch of beach and lightly sloshing ocean, the
enormous-looking full moon perched above. Dancing party goers gyrate
in a vibrant chaos. A group of dancers stream ribbons of fire around
them. Behind them a gigantic fiery sign proclaims: Full Moon Pa…
and as in my vision the crowd blocks the rest of the sign.

Techno
and rap and hip-hop battle for dominance and volume, each pulsing out
from the long line of bars I now know so well.

Someone
bumps me, and grabs my arm. “Oh, my apologies,” an
Australian or New Zealand guy says; I look down to see that not only
is he pretty-much naked, he’s painted up in body paint that has
displaced blue and red streaks onto my arm and T-shirt. I had
forgotten that awkward part.

“
It’s
fine,” I say.

I
know exactly what I have to do, and take off sprinting into the
pandemonium.

Though
my club is far from the most popular, near the entrance the bodies
make a solid wall; in a state of panic I swim through the crowd
holding my breath against the alcohol breath sweat stench. I’m
just moving in, heading with the rest of the crowd in the
bar-direction; right when I start considering climbing over the
crowd, I see Pom in the DJ booth. In my panic to find him, details of
my vision are blanking from my mind…

“
Pom!” I
shout. Pom has large headphones covering his ears and bigger
sunglasses on his eyes. He doesn’t hear or acknowledge me.
Through the dancers I walk, dodging flung hands, and eye contact.
Climbing onto the wide bench at the side made for booty dancing, I
dodge girls until I make it to Pom. Hanging over the sidewall of his
booth, I shout, “Pom!”

“
Hello,
Stephen’s friend!” Pom says. His sunglasses are mirrors
and it’s so out of character that he’d be wearing them at
night. His smile is a little off and I wonder if he’s drunk or
high or something… just off. He shouts, “I thought you
were taking off this night.”

I
practically climb over the sidewall trying to speak into his ear, “I
need to find The Spider. Right now!”

This
close to Pom, I get a very close view of his neck… and the
spider web on it. I pull back.