Leviathan's Rise Read online

  Everyone I knew died. It must have been a mistake.

  Vic was the first to recover from her shock. She hopped to her feet and then bent down to squeeze Woe’s knee.

  “I’ll be back, sweets,” she said, then bounded from the room.

  Woe didn’t react to Vic but stared at me with her mouth slightly agape. “Who is she?”

  Lumbering to my feet, I said, “If I was a fortune teller, perhaps I could tell you.”

  “Parables and riddles,” she said, waving a hand. She didn’t look like she believed me. “You must have some idea.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “None.”

  Yet I didn’t remember enough of my own life to lay a bet on anything. I hadn’t told any of them about the latest man-swallowing nightmares.

  “Lev, I’m going with you,” Jason interrupted. “The rest of you stay here.” He held out his hands and made a stay-put gesture.

  The thick carpet muffled my footsteps as I crossed the floor. Already at the heavy, re-purposed door of a battleship, Jason grasped the peg and turned the wheel. Jason’s predecessor had come home with the door in 1931, claiming the rectangular metal piece and riveted frame were from the USS Pittsburgh. After Jason joined us in the sixties, he found them in storage after he began his apprenticeship. He worked on making the apartments more room-like and less cave-like and then installed the doors on his own time.

  Jason had been the Keeper for over sixty years. Yet he only looked forty-something.

  My gaze cut to Jason. Since he’d arrived, he’d been improving the Balance Keepers and improving our home. I hoped he could hold on to his mission of leaving our world better than he found it. His obsession with Woe was threatening his record.

  The mechanisms creaked and groaned as the seal disengaged, and Jason pushed the door open. He nodded for me to pass in front of him, and I stepped over the shin-high threshold, moving from the warmth of the library into the cool of the dark room beyond.

  The Cavern was a large rectangle room, formed from large blocks of stone and made up of three equal parts. Six always-burning torches lit the room, three on each side of the room, fastened to the support columns that divided the smaller sections from one another. Dark metal rivets lined the edge of each door, one every few inches around the full perimeter, except where the door was fastened to the wall with a large barrel hinge. These entrances had also been salvaged from various battleships.

  A half-dozen apartments opened into the Cavern. Mine was nearest and to the right of the Athenaeum, Vic’s was in the middle, but also on the right. Another was used for storage, and the remaining three were empty. The metal clanged as Jason closed the door behind him.

  “Let’s see who’s waiting for us up there.” The staccato sound of his boot heels punctuated our movement as we moved toward the darkened stairwell at the other end of the Cavern.

  Despite the shadows, neither of us needed extra light. I knew it was one hundred and thirty paces to the first stair. I had counted it many times.

  Half-way across, a door opened, and Vic stepped into the Cavern. Jason didn’t slow down, but when I caught Vic’s eye, she mouthed the words “good luck.” She held up a beaker filled with a carbonated liquid, the magenta glow of the fizz-tonic she held illuminated the grin on her face.

  Woe would be thankful to have her anti-nausea drink. In no time, she’d be back to hunting in Central Park. Vic had made extra before she’d left, but she must have been gone longer than she’d anticipated since we had run out a few days earlier. Hopefully, we wouldn’t need the concoction much longer.

  “No clue who this could be?” Jason started up the steep stairs, and I followed. Our footsteps echoed against the stones that made up the tunnel.

  “I don’t get out much.”

  He chuckled. “True, but you’ve written letters.”

  “Never mailed. No one to receive them.” Most days, I only made the trek from my living quarters to the Athenaeum.

  I heard the frown in Jason’s voice. “Then why write them?”

  “It’s cathartic.” The answer seemed obvious to me. Once I figured out what I’d left behind, the feelings were a hurricane in my innards. “You should try it. You might get over your dislike of—”

  Jason cursed under his breath. “I don’t dislike Arún.”

  Arún had sacrificed himself for Woe. It wasn’t a bad thing that he’d come back to life. “He’s a decent chap.”

  “Ssssh. We’re close.”

  At the last stair, Jason paused to listen. Hearing nothing, we stepped out into the closet-sized room. The wall at the end was primarily made of a large bomb-proof door. Jason’s predecessor lived through enough world wars that he had been convinced that our underground hideout needed better protection. A bank of lockers served as a wall on one side with a waist-high chest the length of the other.

  Without stopping, Jason tugged on the steel door, pulling it inward to expose the back of a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. A hiss filled the air as the shelves shifted and moved to the side. The passageway led directly into the library in the public portion of the church.

  We eased over the threshold and into the room. A wrought-iron chandelier hung in the center of the room over a large, square, rustic table. At some point, the candle holders had been retrofitted with electric sockets that held old-fashioned Edison bulbs.

  We could both hear someone muttering in the corridor beyond.

  Jason pressed a finger to his lips and turned to the shelf labeled 1700. Two books were tipped outward; one marked The Monk by Matthew Gregory Lewis and the other La Religieuse by Denis Diderot. Jason pressed both tomes back in their place on the shelf. With a dull thud, the shelf returned to its original position, camouflaging the entrance to our secret home.

  At the sound, a feminine voice stammered, “Who’s there?”

  Anne was convinced my voice sounded like no other. The unique whine in my voice had been with me since I’d first tried out the change. If she knew me, the stranger should recognize it.

  I moved closer to the opening and called, “It is I.”

  There was a pause, and then she asked, “Who?”

  That answered it. She didn’t know me.

  “Possible imposter,” I said to Jason.

  Jason pointed to himself and then the lone chair at the table.

  Understanding his intention to wait behind and listen, I nodded and crept past him toward the hall. I peered around the opening for a glimpse of the woman. Her face turned away, she leaned against the slatted wooden door. She studied her unpainted fingernails, her silvery hair pulled to the side in a braid that reached just past her shoulders.

  When I cleared my throat to announce my presence, she shrieked and rounded on me like a shark on the hunt, arms swinging, eyes snapping. I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from my lips. Although dressed in another woman’s body, it was as if Anne stared out at me through the pale irises. The shock had frozen me in place, struggling to net a thousand emotions that surged, pounding in my veins. It couldn’t possibly be Anne, but I was lost in the icy sea of the woman’s gaze.

  “How dare you sneak up on me like—” She halted as she caught the look on my face, and the fight seeped out of her like a teacup poured out.

  The handsome woman was no longer young, and an angry flush dusted her cheeks. Ripped jeans hugged the curves that her age had rounded, and a hint of exotic flowers wafted about her. An intricately carved metal cuff circled one ankle.

  The strap of a fringed bag stretched from one shoulder to the opposite hip. In her youth, she could have been a bohemian princess dancing in a black and white image taken at Woodstock.

  “Are you alright?” Jason’s whisper came out as a hiss, and I started.

  I had paused mid-stride and only a few steps into my fact-finding mission. Shaking my head, I rolled my shoulders and eyed the stranger. I didn’t know what manner of sorcery she had. Wariness seemed the appropriate course.

  As I came nearer, her gaze drifted
down and over me. “Are you Lev?”

  She seemed troubled by my appearance, incredulous. Her still-full lips pursed as though she’d kissed a lemon.

  “You look more like a young and dashing Winston Churchill than a superhero.”

  I chuckled then and probably earned a dark scowl from Jason. “I get that a lot.”

  Wrinkles fanned out from the corners of her eyes, and she had a multitude of shades of gray in her tresses. She reminded me of a nurse shark, yet her open body language and a relaxed face calmed my nerves.

  “Some thought Winston was a bulldog,” I said, trying to recapture a rough edge and failing miserably. Even so, she was taken aback, and I frowned at her discomfiture over my less-than-stellar superhero figure.

  “Who might you be?” I resisted the urge to add a stern “madam” to the question. I suspected she was as much out of her element as I was with more to hide.

  Her gaze dropped to her toes. “I’m nobody.”

  “Hmph,” I answered. No one ever matters as little as they believe.

  I tipped my head to the side. It was improbable that a gracefully-aging woman would know to ask for a whale shifter named Lev in a church library that led to a paranormal enclave beneath the streets of New York. The lady before me was something much more than a nobody.

  “An escaped meal,” she said, crossing her arms over her middle.

  “An escaped meal,” I repeated her words, rolling them over my lips. An escaped meal, perhaps seeking the right of asylum. I hoped Jason was listening.

  “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean.” I pointed to the door she’d been leaning on earlier. The stenciled word Office hung over the arch, the contrast almost as bright as a neon sign in the shadowy corridor. “Step inside, my dear. We all have stories, and I think I need to hear yours.”

  When she nodded, a strand of hair fell from her braid and settled in the curve of her porcelain neck. My eyes traced the line of her collarbone, exposed by the wide neck of her knit shirt. “I can’t tell you much.”

  “Whatever you can tell will be more than I knew before you came,” I said as I opened the office door. I reached around the corner and pressed the old-fashioned switch for the Edison light fixture. Four dusty bulbs flickered to life.

  I considered the seat behind Jason’s desk, eyed the small bed in the corner, and settled into the corner seat of the sagging, creaky couch. “What’s your name?”

  “Mara,” she answered, still pacing.

  Bitter. Mara meant bitter, and she’d spoken the two syllables harshly as if she believed the meaning applied to her. “How did you come to know me?”

  She wrung her hands, moving a gold ring up and down her index finger. She smoothed her hands over her cheeks.

  “I wouldn’t be here at all, you see,” she began, “but I was in Central Park last night.”

  “Things tend to lurk in that park.” I had met some of them.

  “Shifter things,” she said. Her hand fluttered at the base of her neck.

  I smoothed my hand over the couch cushion beside me. She studied the seat and then spun to take another lap around the small room.

  Did she know I was a shifter thing? I hadn’t been out for a swim in so long, I wasn’t sure I could still summon the change. It was painful to wish for a morph that never came.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “She was beautiful,” the woman breathed and then squeezed her eyes shut as though re-living the memory. “Just as I crossed Bow Bridge, she screamed and came down from the trees. At first, I thought the scream came from a woman, but—” Mara’s eyes popped open, and she halted mid-stride, “—it was a white peacock with her tail stretched out behind her.”

  In the hall, something skittered across the floor, and it sounded like Jason nearly choked. Mara must not have heard him, though her voice dropped to a whisper. “It was strange. I knew it was a she, but she had a tail.”

  “We’ve dealt with her before.” The psy-shifter was more than a bad omen.

  Mara began pacing again. “She circled once, then landed behind me, and I could only watch her. She grabbed my head. I must have passed out.” She smoothed her fingers over her lips.

  “She didn’t finish you?”

  “The next thing I remember, her lips were against my ear.”

  “Why?”

  “She was rummaging through my memories, muttering to herself.” She squeezed her eyes closed, and tears streaked her cheeks.

  “What did she see?”

  Her shoulders drooping, Mara sank into the other corner of the couch. “I don’t know. I can’t remember exactly what she saw.” She knit her eyebrows in concentration, tapping a finger against her temple.

  “Was there a bright light?”

  Mara shook her head and smoothed her palms over her knees. “She came across a memory and then let me go.”

  “Anything else?”

  “She said she owed the Keepers, and that I needed to bring you something I’ve had since I was a little girl. She said it would make sense to you.”

  “Is that all?”

  She wrung her hands. “She told me to ask for Lev. And she said something about a family I used to know, but I can’t remember now. My mind’s been jumbled since I ran into her.” She bit her lip.

  “What is it?”

  “A toy. A figurine. I’ve kept it for ages. She said it’s connected to you.”

  I held out my hand. “Can I see it?”

  “I didn’t even go home to get it. After she let me go, I came straight here.”

  A knock sounded at the door behind us, and Mara leaped to her feet. Jason slipped into the room, an apologetic smile on his lips, his hands crossed behind him. “Lev, sorry to bother you, but—”

  I took his cue. “Mara, this is Jason. He’s my assistant.”

  Jason stiffened at that, but he covered it well. “Mara,” he said, reaching toward her. “Nice to meet you.”

  Her fingers fluttered around the base of her throat, and she tugged on her braid. “Is it okay to talk in front of him?”

  “Easy, Mara,” I soothed. “He’s safe.”

  She didn’t relax, but she took a step toward me and away from the door.

  “We’d like to see the figurine,” Jason soothed. “How far away is it?”

  “Not far,” she said. “I live on Unseen Street.”

  Without permission, my eyebrows climbed my forehead. Two strikes against her.

  Jason’s only response was a slight widening of his eyes. Anybody else wouldn’t have noticed; to me, he could have painted a billboard with the shock.

  Only paranormal creatures got past the gatekeepers on Unseen Street. That meant Mara definitely wasn’t what she seemed, and we had no record of her. I knew the List even better than Jason did.

  “Can you bring it back?”

  Her knees buckled, and she shook her head. “You have to come.”

  “Why?” Jason asked, crossing his arms, his cassock tight across his shoulders.

  “I want to live. It’s that simple.” Mara wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her upper arms as though she was cold. “Have you ever stared death in the face only to have the darkness yanked back?”

  I spoke gently, “More than once.” More than a dozen times.

  “Well,” she said. “I won’t risk it. Come with me. Please.” She breathed the last word as though terrified that the shifter would hunt her down and finish what she’d started.

  Jason said nothing, and I let the silence stretch.

  It wasn’t much to go on. The peacock in the park wasn’t to be trusted. The news had all the makings of a trap, with an avian shifter once again as the lure. The Boss had to be behind it.

  I rubbed my thumb and forefinger together as I considered our new piece to the puzzle. If Woe learned that the shifter we’d been hunting had sent Mara, there wouldn’t just be fireworks; we’d have our own version of Fat Man at Hiroshima.

  Neither of us had survived as long as we had by be
ing stupid. “Why should we trust you?”

  Mara closed her eyes, pressed her hand to her forehead, and let out a shuddering sigh. When she opened her eyes again, tears shined in them.

  “The toy used to belong to your son.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  And then my knees were the ones to buckle. Spots swam in my vision. I groped the empty air and drew a ragged breath. “What? What did you say?”

  Jason rushed forward. He caught my hands and eased me down into the couch.

  She backed away from us. “What would you risk to save your son?”

  “Everything,” I choked out. “I would risk everything.”

  7

  Ties That Bind

  Mara

  Lev’s words cut my heart and nearly bled the confession from my lips. A stranger to me, but I wanted to confess the truth. They knew things. They had to.

  Why else would the woman that kidnapped me target them? The bird shifter story wasn’t entirely true. The Boss left me in the park to entice the shifter. Then my kidnapper assured me that they would believe it on its own. That Lev and Jason had to believe it, or my sister died.

  The lady Boss controlled it all. She’d sealed the path and the plans in my brain. The task had to be completed. They intended to follow me.

  I laced my fingers together and prayed they couldn’t see the shaking. Maybe they had special powers that could help me free my sister. From the corner of my eye, I studied Lev. Kindness softened the hard edges of Lev’s face. His eyes would sparkle when he smiled.

  But Jason…. Jason’s face boasted an edge made of hard things and hard choices. He could kill when he had to. Without remorse. Perhaps he might save my sister.

  I could confess everything, then beg their forgiveness and help.

  When I took a step toward them, my anklet buzzed—a reminder about what I had to do to keep my sister alive. I bit my already-raw, bottom lip.

  Choices. Choices. None of them good. And no way out.