Leviathan's Rise Read online

  Apparently, even with her history as a former divine being, she wasn’t freed her from the mortal worry of morning sickness. Nothing helped except a fizzy drink Victory—or Vic—had come up with. Mixed from special herbs that had been used by monks in Nepal for thousands of years, it did the trick without ill side effects.

  Since the chemist was out of her office and none of us knew where she kept her recipe book, Woe had done without. At least Woe’s first trimester was nearly finished. Maybe the second would be kinder.

  The holographic emitters whirred in a steady hum from the shadows of the dimly lit room. The glowing Librarian fussed with the holographic paperwork spread all over Jason’s mahogany desk, twirling his handlebar mustache as he consumed information. He was hunting something for me, and he’d been at it for weeks, preferring to search through documents the old-fashioned way. He crossed to a simulated filing cabinet and pulled on a drawer, rummaging through files filled with countless bits of data.

  Sighing, I hoped Jason didn’t hear the whale whine I tried to cover by shifting in my seat. I had to know what happened to my wife and son.

  Jason’s eyebrow twitched, and I hid my raspy chuckle and returned my thoughts to the diversion at hand.

  Checkmate. In three.

  That was Jason’s plan. He was just coming to it now. I wouldn’t dare let the priest know that I’d figured it out four moves ago. I never played chess on Tuesdays to win. I participated because my troubled friend asked. When you’re a Keeper, that’s what you do. When it got down to the nitty-gritty, we were all each of us had—not just when tracking turned into fighting, but in the everyday lives between the drama. We’d all been brought together by fate or circumstances. We were family.

  I took the responsibility seriously. A memory tickled my ear in the guise of my little boy’s last words. Besides my wife, he would have been the only person I loved more than the Keepers. A familiar wave of regret washed over me, and I cleared my throat. No use crying over spilled kelp.

  Now. I amended. I take the responsibility seriously. Now.

  Jason’s movement brought my attention back to the board. He moved the bishop diagonally until it was within striking distance of my king. “Checkmate. In three,” he said, a gleam lighting his blue eyes.

  “Indeed.” Chuckling, I raised my eyebrows and lifted the seaweed cigar to my lips, taking a mouthful of the salty, Pacific-scented smoke.

  I was the replacement—a stop-gap measure meant to keep Jason’s mind distracted from the responsibility he felt over Woe’s safety.

  We had meetings every Tuesday, and Woe always spent the day reading old books. Jason’s Tuesdays consisted of paranormal study. Rather than admit to his discomfort and his inability to spend a few hours in Woe’s presence, he had asked me to play chess. I became the buffer between them.

  Though, I wasn’t sure Jason had even realized that’s what he’d done when he’d asked me if I knew how to play and then requested a weekly game. His mind was too busy with his daily life, and I had the benefit of being nearly two hundred years old. I could see things about Jason that the troubled man himself didn’t know.

  “Stop staring at me, Lev,” Woe muttered.

  “Anything I can do to help?” It was worth asking.

  She made a gagging sound. She cleared her throat. “Nothing helps.”

  I handed a small brown paper bag to Woe. She opened it and tucked her face inside the top to take a deep breath.

  “Except hot cross buns,” she said when she looked up. “They smell delicious, Lev. Thanks for making them for me. I’ll eat them when the nausea passes.”

  “Surely,” I said. Baking was something I had learned in my spare time and something that relaxed me on the nights when I had trouble sleeping. I kept the place stocked with all manner of breads, bagels, and baguettes.

  I took another drag as I pretended to study the checkered board from beneath my fedora. To my relief, Vic said my cigars were more like burning incense and not harmful to Woe’s babe. Vic had tested the smoke. Though they were a bad habit, I didn’t mind paying the wood nymphs down on Unseen Street to collect the Pacific seaweed, cure it, and roll it. It was the only extravagance I allowed myself. Besides, Woe never complained about the briny smell. And I hadn’t bothered to ask anybody else’s opinion.

  Jason still couldn’t bring himself to talk about his feelings about Arún’s death out loud. It didn’t help that Jason had more than a passing taste of lust for Arún’s woman. Jason loved Woe. I wasn’t sure he knew it, but the rest of us did. I glanced at the prone woman. She’d flipped over at some point, her hand braced on the floor.

  Thank God chess wasn’t emotional; we had enough spare emotions floating around the Cavern. Chess was a game of logic and strategy, and it was as close to pouring his heart out as Jason ever came. Well, since I’d known him. It was the best way to avoid the guilt he carried over Arún’s almost-death.

  That was one thing I understood well. Guilt.

  I considered the collared man while he contemplated the black and whiteboard. His beard had grown—nearly down to his twelfth, balance-keeping Cassock button. I blamed the growth on Vic’s cupboard of chemist concoctions that she gave us all to drink, but he’d been looking more like a wild man lately, letting his hair and beard go uncombed.

  There was a clang and then a hiss as the mechanism on the sealed door of the Athenaeum triggered, releasing the seal. The wheel turned on the salvaged and re-used battleship door.

  Anticipating the newcomer, Jason swiveled in his seat. “About time,” he said.

  A woman sailed into the room, her chest heaving as the door banged against the wall behind it. Jason flinched at the noise.

  I whispered, “You installed those doors. Remember?”

  Jason glowered.

  “Made it,” Vic said, her dark curls falling over her forehead. Bits of pine needles tumbled from her afro, and she brushed them off her shoulders. Her t-shirt boasted her love of Zelda, and she wore thigh-high white boots and gold, skin-tight hot pants. Giant hoop earrings hung from her earlobes, and a tiny white stone sparkled in the side of her nose.

  “You’re late, Vic.” Jason scowled at her.

  She cocked her hips to one side and crossed her arms. “There was a rave in the Himalayas,” she said as though that explained everything. Her ebony eyes glittered with a challenge, but Jason didn’t say anything else.

  “Wings,” she said, turning to Woe, who was still sprawled on the furniture. Woe raised two fingers to form a V shape and mumbled something unintelligible.

  She winked at me. “Bulldog.”

  “Victory.” I grinned back at the saucy woman, the source of all the team’s nicknames, and I handed her the basket of bread I’d baked for her.

  The other business of the day would soon take the place of the forgotten game.

  A varied band made up my family, yet these rapscallions were my people, my adopted tribe. I would do anything to protect them.

  4

  Kidnapped

  Mara

  New Haven City

  A hundred invisible knives stabbed at my fin as a nightmare of nets and darkness receded. I’d been in the water, exploring a reef. Had I been fallen asleep in the seaweed fields?

  I blinked until my eyes adjusted to the bright moonlight, the circumference of the orb wavy. Gauging by the light, I must be near the surface. Yet when I kicked my fin, legs splashed.

  Not my one fin. My two legs.

  Partially submerged in brackish water, a metal bracelet wrapped my right ankle. It was the only thing I wore. My surroundings didn’t look right, and I reached out, but my hand stopped short when it slammed against a hard surface. Using both hands to explore, I discovered that I was trapped in a glass coffin.

  No. That couldn’t be right.

  Moonlight poured over me and shimmered against my skin, reacting with the enchantment in my blood. I scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, knocking against the thick glass, testing its strength.
>
  The scent of the Atlantic filtered in. If I could get my bearings, I could find my way back. Inland, the silhouettes of buildings were broken up by light through windows, highlighting the unique skyline. Car horns blared. Somewhere, closer, a dog barked.

  New Haven City.

  I hadn’t been near New Haven City since the last time I swam up the hidden canal and into Unseen Street. I stayed for weeks, exploring. That had to have been a year or two. I wanted to bring my sister next time.

  I swallowed the salty bile that threatened to spew. The Sons of Men never showed kindness to the Daughters of Mer, and I had no recollection of how I’d come to be there. I couldn’t remain.

  With my tail, breaking out would be easy enough. A flick of the fin and I’d be on my way home, ready to tell the odd tale to my sister while we feasted on plates of urchins and seaweed.

  I reached for the change, the magic of the shift, but nothing happened. I reached for the well of magic I always drew from and imagined myself, sliding through the water.

  Nothing. Something blocked my transformation. I gulped at the air in the container. A whale of worry sat on my chest. I wouldn’t panic. I didn’t belong there. I had to get home. I could figure it out.

  Despite the dark, gulls cried overhead, dipping in and out of the light cast by street lamps. I hadn’t been sleeping… before. I’d been watching the sunlight play in the water near the reef, seated on a bench fashioned from old corral. The vista was only a half day's swim from home. Then…

  Here.

  My box had been placed in the center of a wooden dock that swayed and creaked in the ocean wind. Waves lapped against the wharf. The tide was coming in. It should make shifting even easier. I pulled at the change, trying to draw it in, but the well was an empty room. I punched at the glass. There had to be some way out.

  Whoever had trapped me there would be back. Soon. I had to get out.

  The power was there, dancing in the beyond. Even drenched in brine, my mouth dried, and my pulse pounded in my ears.

  I can’t break free.

  Clawing at the edge of the glass box, I searched for something to catch, anything to pull on. The seal was tight and smooth all the way around. As I flailed, the water turned frothy. Panic formed a vice on my throat and tightened more and more. If only I had my tail.

  Waves crashed against the pier, and footsteps echoed against the wooden decking. A womanly caped figure appeared at the edge of my vision. Shadows obscured her face.

  She said nothing, and I thrashed harder. Whoever it was couldn’t be kind.

  Kind didn’t trap creatures in boxes and watch them struggle to free themselves.

  Kind didn’t do that.

  “Hello, Mara,“ she said, placing her hands on her hips. Light reflected on her teeth. “I have a job for you.”

  “Leave me alone,” I bit out, slamming against the box so hard it tipped over, throwing me on my side, but I didn’t stop. If I could do it again, I’d be at the edge of the dock. Once more after that, and I’d be in the water. I could call my sisters.

  “Why, Mara,” the woman said, her voice a dangerous purr. “I’m surprised at you.”

  A flash sparked beside her, and a portal opened between us. Through the window my captor had made, I glimpsed my closest sister, bound and gagged in a familiar cave. Her fin pounded against the rough surface she laid on, and a hook punctured the center of her tail. Bright red blood poured from it.

  “Shannah,” I whispered then turned to the woman. “Please let her go. Take me instead.”

  The woman scoffed. “I already have you both.”

  “What do you want?” Where had that cave been? I knew it. Somehow. I wracked my brain.

  With long red fingernails, she tapped her chin. “If you comply, perhaps we’ll set her free.” She raised one finger. “But, first, some motivation.”

  Shannah’s eyes stretched wide enough to show white all around her irises as she stared at something I couldn’t see. She scrambled to get away, but the hook held her fast, trapped her like a fish for dinner.

  At Shannah’s scream, my world imploded.

  5

  That’ll Be the Door

  Jason

  Our Lady of the Park, Catholic Cathedral, New Haven City

  I literally had no idea how to control that woman. Any of them. The smartest programmer/chemist I’d ever met, Vic lived like a walking mess.

  Vic strolled past me and stopped at the couch beside Woe to tap the backs of Woe’s legs. Woe lifted them, without moving her top and freed a whole cushion. Vic plopped down beside her, and Woe straightened her legs, placing them back on Vic’s lap. She checked the watch on her wrist.

  “I’m only an hour late. I don’t even know why we’re still having these meetings. We’re at a stalemate until something happens.” She jutted her chin toward me as though to prove a point. “I’m here now. That’s all that counts.”

  To Woe, she said, “I’ll get you a fizz as soon as Jason is finished, sweets. I’m sorry I was gone so long. How’s Ziva?”

  “She’s getting straight A’s now and having fewer nightmares,” Woe mumbled. Ziva was the little girl Woe mentored from time to time.

  “Good,” Vic said, settling in.

  Beneath his fedora, Lev grinned like a fool when she had called him Bulldog. She always said he reminded her of Winston Churchill, the British Bulldog. He lifted his cigar in salute. The nickname had gone to the old man’s head. He never cautioned Vic about her chaotic ways, he only laughed at her shenanigans.

  It was then that I noticed Lev staring, and I realized my upper lip had curled. Lev’s frown pulled all of his wrinkles downward as he puffed on his cigar, the smoke curling around his rotund figure.

  I heard everything he wasn’t saying; I knew him better than I knew anybody else in this room. Though, he could probably say the same about me.

  Yes, I might be too hard on her. Yes, my irritation might come from something else.

  I stood and forced my shoulders to relax. He didn’t flinch or look away, but I wasn’t interested in a new staring contest.

  To the group, I said, “As you all know, we have an on-going issue.”

  I scanned the room. Woe was still face down, Vic bit her nails, Lev stared as intently as before, and the Librarian leaned on the desk, his gaze on me and his expression thoughtful.

  “The Boss is still out there, and we aren’t sure why she wants the list or why she wants Woe.” I tugged on the coarse hairs on my chin.

  “That’s not quite true,” Lev rumbled. “The Boss wants Woe as a breeder.”

  Woe glared. “It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t have any special abilities.”

  “That we know of,” I added. “It stands to reason that if Woe can carry a child, there’s something else going on in her mortal DNA. We can’t rule out anything.”

  “We haven’t been able to determine the reason she wishes to utilize Woe or even how she knew pregnancy was a possibility for Woe before we did. Do we have any new information?”

  The Librarian shuffled his papers, and Vic chewed her nails. Woe lay on her side watching me through half-lidded eyes. Lev was still an island of calm.

  I went on, “We need to work at this.”

  They needed to care about finding out who had set everything in motion and finally killed Woe’s husband. Until they did, Woe would still be at risk. We hadn’t contended with an overthrow plot since the seventies, until the Boss had shown her hand.

  “We need more information,” I said, detesting the whine that had crept into my voice. As I saw it, I had two missions. I needed to keep Woe and my people safe and track the movements of any non-human in my area. As the List Keeper, it was my job to send darker sorts on their way. I hadn’t smelled a new vampire in New Haven City for twenty years and the few I did know managed to keep their teeth out of the people.

  Except the shifter. The thought taunted me. And I drew myself to my full height. “Have we had any luck bringing the bird in for q
uestioning?”

  Vic snorted. “No. Still no. I haven’t been out in two weeks to look.” She crossed her arms, baiting me again.

  “Don’t you care about—” Woe’s name almost escaped my lips, but I caught it before I made a fool of myself. I took a breath, and instead, I continued, “Finding the truth.”

  Lev stiffened. “It’s the same as last week, Jason, and the week before. We can’t make clues appear. We have to wait.” He cleared his throat. “It’s the same as all the weeks since Arún came back.”

  His words singed my heart, and a movement caught my eye. Woe reached toward Lev, and he leaned forward, tucking his cigar in the corner of his mouth so he could offer the hand closest to her. He held still as she used his support to push herself into an upright position.

  I turned away, pretending to study the map on the wall behind me. Woe never sought my help like that. Even after we’d…

  “Pardon me, Jason,” the Librarian interrupted. He tugged on his mustache and glanced to the side as though listening. When he turned back, he said, “There’s been a knock on the upstairs office door. It seems a parishioner would like to speak to…”

  Despite being mid-meeting, I stood, ready to head up, but the Librarian’s eyes widened as he shook his head.

  “Lev,” he stammered. “She wants to speak to Lev.”

  6

  Mysterious Her

  Lev

  I couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly.

  “She wants to speak to Lev,” the Librarian repeated.

  The words echoed, and every head in the room swiveled toward me. A draft must have sneaked in from the Cavern, setting goosebumps prickling over my skin.

  She wants to speak to me.

  Too old to be surprised by anything, I extinguished the cigar on the crystal ashtray that rested at the center of the coffee table, chiding myself for the cold shivers.