Beached Page 13

  Lunia shrugged. ‘He’s always had kind of a thing for damsels in distress,’ she said. ‘I think he’s decided you need some fathering.’

  Lecanora could not deny that Lunia’s words sent a comforting surge through her, even though it was ridiculous. She was an Aegiran princess, and needed no coddling.

  So why did it feel so good?

  Carragheen weighed in. ‘We must keep moving,’ he said, ‘so we can do some reconnaissance before the event.’ Lecanora nodded, considering the Aegiran man. He looked better after the sleep he’d had in the car and on the plane. His color was stronger, even if his indigo eyes still stood out impossibly dark against the golden brown of his skin. He looked stronger, too. He was walking normally again.

  ‘Killjoys,’ Doug muttered, moving out to the taxi line.

  * * *

  Larry, Carragheen and Doug had been ordered to stay home for the reconnaissance. The rest of them were posing as a family—Arty and Lunia the parents, with Lecanora and Rania the adult children, vacationing at the hotel and seeing some sights. As they finished off their drinks, Lecanora closed her eyes for a moment and imagined it was really so. She imagined she really had grown up with this mother and this father.

  Lunia was her mother, sure, but she had not known that until a few days ago. She had a mother; a foster mother, of course, but a better mother no woman had ever had. Queen Imd had seen to it that Lecanora had a wonderful and rich childhood. But as the daughter of the Queen—and as a foundling without a lineage—she had often pined for a different life, a normal life. One with parents, and a history. She watched the easy way Arty and Rania bantered, and the warm and indulgent look Arty got in his eyes whenever he considered his daughter. Lecanora wondered how that must have been.

  As Arty moved up to the bar to pay, one of the customers flicked the large television screen on. Lecanora was shocked to see an image of Arty’s face hovering above the banner ‘Jailbreak Massacre’. She swallowed and tapped Lunia and Rania’s hands, pointing discreetly to the screen. Lunia’s eyes flicked quickly to Arty at the bar, and Lecanora’s followed. She sighed with relief as she took him in. Arty’s disguise was sound. He looked every bit the greying, sixty-something bearded grandfather—nothing like slick black-haired prankster in the mug shot on the television.

  As Arty returned, a young man with an enormous electronic device hung around his neck sidled up to them and Lecanora held her breath. Had he seen Arty…?

  ‘Well, ain’t this a nice family scene?’ The young man grinned toothily at them. ‘Here for the big reception this evening, folks? Fancy a snap?’

  Lecanora’s head spun at the unfamiliar language, but Lunia patted her knee under the table as she spoke. ‘Aw, shucks you’re so sweet honey, and what a great camera! But not today. You see, my daughter here—’ She motioned towards Rania. ‘—is getting hitched here soon, and we’re just checking out the wedding facilities.’ She winked at him. ‘Havin’ a drink n’all while we’re at it. Right, honey?’

  Rania looked like the thought of being married made her want to vomit, but she spread a sick grin on her face and nodded. ‘Yeah, yeah. Wedding stuff, y’know how it is?’

  The young man dropped the instrument he’d been holding, the camera Lunia had admired, and turned to Lecanora, pulling out a chair and plonking himself down it. He held up his hands, framing her face between fingers held at right angles. ‘You don’t want a picture, Miss? Hey, you know, I do private sessions too.’ His grin spread wider, and Lecanora felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle like it did when she encountered a shark. ‘Girl like you, you could be a model with the right set of—’

  ‘Beat it, pal,’ Arty said. ‘She ain’t buying what you’re sellin’.’ He put a hand on the backrest of the young man’s chair and tipped it up brutally, forcing him to stand up. ‘Thanks buddy,’ he smiled viciously.

  As the young man loped off, Arty turned to Lunia. ‘Speakin’ of pics, did we get all the shots we needed?’

  Lunia tapped her smart phone and nodded.

  ‘Right,’ Arty said. ‘Let’s blow this popsicle stand, then, get back to the room, rendezvous with-”‘

  Lunia placed a hand lightly on his arm as a noise from the lobby attracted her attention. She stood quickly, and motioned for them all to follow her. They stood at the entry to the bar, and looked out into the crowd that had gathered in the lobby. Lecanora tried to work out what all the commotion was about.

  Through the blur of bodies it became apparent that someone was being shepherded in. Men in uniforms formed a tight cordon around a woman in a black coat, and a bevvy of journalists had suddenly appeared, some with microphones, others with camera equipment like the man in the bar but of varying sizes and types, some even on wheels. Lecanora caught snatches of what the onlookers were saying.

  ‘It’s her.’

  ‘Goin’ to her room.’

  ‘Susan Murray.’

  ‘Man, she really is that beautiful.’

  ‘Need an autograph.’

  Even at Lecanora’s height, it was hard to see through the throng. She watched Lunia maneuver herself artfully through the crowd, slightly to the left where a small gap had opened up. Lecanora pressed in behind her mother, who reached back and grabbed one of Lecanora’s hands, wrapping it around her waist and pulling her in closer.

  Together, they watched as the woman in black moved forward. A young boy called out to her from the crowd. ‘Mrs Murray? Mrs Murray!’

  The woman turned and Lunia and Lecanora caught the full force of her face. She was ice-blonde and dimpled, her blue eyes dark and warm even at this distance. Her forehead was high and her cheekbones lent her face a magical shape, like the heart-shaped visage of a fairytale princess. The woman knelt down to the little boy, causing an explosion of flashes as journalists and photographers scrambled to capture the moment. She was very close now to where Lunia and Lecanora were standing. They heard her as she spoke to the little boy, who was holding a ‘Murray for President’ balloon on a stick.

  ‘Well, hello darling,’ she said, a small piece of blonde fringe falling forward over her eyes as she smiled at the serious little face. ‘And where have you come from? Have you been waiting long?’

  At the sound of her voice, something clicked inside Lecanora. Lecanora felt Lunia’s intake of breath even as she felt own breath hitch in response to the sight of the woman. ‘By the goddess,’ Lunia whispered, tightening her grip on Lecanora’s fingers around her waist. ‘She’s—’

  ‘Yes,’ Lecanora said, feeling the waves of surprise crash across her consciousness. She had not known, had never imagined. ‘She’s one of us.’

  At their whispered words, Susan Murray looked up from the child and directly at the two women, a small frown creasing her features. Lecanora shrank back. Surely she could not have heard them?

  But Lunia did not shrink. Now may be the right time. She tugged again on Lecanora’s hand, pulling her forward. Susan continued to stare at them as they moved towards where she was standing with the little boy.

  ‘Susan,’ Lunia called. ‘Hello! It’s great to see you. We had been so hoping to—’

  But Susan cut them off. She knelt down one more time and made an apology to the little boy, before pushing through the throng and coming right up to them. She held out a hand and Lunia grabbed it and shook it, lacing Lecanora’s fingers onto the joined hands also. Lecanora knew they all felt the jolt that sizzled in her fingers.

  Susan stared at them open-mouthed as cameras clicked and whirred around them. At the sound, Lunia seemed to jolt back to the moment.

  ‘Great to see you,’ she called jauntily, pulling Lecanora back into the crowd and casting her face down.

  ‘Wait,’ Susan called, holding out a hand to them as a young redheaded woman with square glasses beside her drummed her fingers on a clipboard and held a hand on her arm.

  Lunia pushed Lecanora back through the crowd to the bar where Arty and Rania were standing. Lecanora could not help herself. As they
gathered their things to leave, she looked up and back through her hair. Susan Murray was standing still, listening to the young woman beside her but looking forward to the bar, searching the crowd.

  As Lecanora peeked, she became aware of another figure beside Susan. A tall, dark man, in a close-fitting suit. His hair was shorn short, almost to the bone. He had noticed Susan’s interest in the two women and locked eyes on Lecanora. Something about his eyes pricked a bubble of fear in Lecanora. They were calculating, like they were registering every detail of her face, and filing them away for later.

  The man started to come towards her in the crowd, speaking into a device attached to his ear and near his mouth. As he did, others surged around Susan Murray and Lecanora broke eye contact with her Arty put an arm around Rania and Lecanora and bundled them towards the back of the bar. ‘Quick,’ he said. ‘Service exit, come this way.’

  Seconds later, they had exited through the kitchen and were out in an alley in the back of the hotel.

  Arty grabbed Lunia’s shoulders. ‘Will she know you? Tonight? Will it help?’

  Lunia nodded. ‘Oh, she’ll recognize us,’ she said.

  Arty nodded. ‘Okay, good,’ he said. ‘So let’s get back to the others and step this whole thing through.’

  Lecanora stood, feeling the world slide around her.

  Rania took her hand. ‘Come on, babe,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

  * * *

  ‘Not a drug, then?’ Doug was frowning as he listened carefully to Larry. ‘What did your man say?’

  Larry sighed, running his hands through that close grey crop. ‘Look, it was a quicky, y’know? Not the full screen. So we can’t guarantee that something wasn’t missed.’

  Lunia placed a smooth hand over Larry’s calloused one on the little table. Lecanora noticed Rania’s eyes flick up to her mother’s face at the unconscious gesture, and Arty’s did the same. ‘We are grateful, Larry,’ she said. ‘For all you have done. You have no need to make apologies to us.’

  Rania nodded. ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Between you and Doug—getting that poor dead kid to your man, and getting him checked out.’

  Larry laughed, but Lecanora noticed there was no twinkle in his eyes. ‘Yeah, well, Autopsies R Us lately, huh?’

  Rania shrugged, and Lecanora was sure she turned a little pale.

  Larry nodded and cleared his throat. ‘Well, anyway. I didn’t get a full autopsy done. My guy’d freak out if he saw anything like what I saw on your woman Cleedaline.’

  Lecanora shuddered, remembering the murdered watch-keeper, the one who had started them all on this journey together. And, she remembered, the one who had brought her to her mother.

  Larry continued. ‘So, just the tox. My guy said there were no chems, but that doesn’t mean our boy wasn’t strung out.’

  Arty kicked back his chair and stood up. ‘But you said no drugs, so what had the kid all messed up? So bad it killed him?’

  Larry frowned. ‘I been thinking, especially since the prison. Watching all those kids. The way they were. It was like they were being…controlled somehow. I wonder if it was the same for our boy, the one who turned up at Lunia’s.’

  ‘Addicted to something,’ Lunia pondered. ‘Just not drugs.’

  ‘What else is there?’ Rania frowned.

  Carragheen frowned. ‘I saw them, those boys,’ he said. ‘But I also… I heard it.’ He turned to Lunia, and Lecanora, his indigo eyes boring into them. ‘Did you?’

  Lecanora nodded, remembering. ‘Something,’ she said. ‘I heard something.’

  Lunia shook her head. ‘Not me. But I wasn’t in the thick of it.’

  Rania echoed her mother’s gesture. ‘Not me, either,’ she said. ‘But I don’t hear as good as these two.’ She shrugged. ‘Blunted by living on The Land? Or maybe because I’m only half.’

  Carragheen growled and shot Rania a look, but went on. ‘At first I thought it was instructions I was hearing,’ he said. ‘Commands.’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘But it wasn’t that simple. I can see that now. The boys, they were straining…they were waiting. And they…they experienced pleasure when they heard whatever they were looking for.’

  ‘They’re addicted to the sound?’ Larry rubbed his face. ‘Seriously? It must sound really good.’

  ‘Either that,’ Rania said, ‘or they need it. They just really need it, like their life depends on it.’

  Carragheen nodded. ‘I think we’re getting closer,’ he said. ‘But what do they want? Here on The Land? If they belong to Manos, and we have to assume they do, why aren’t they back in Aegira?’

  ‘Maybe ‘cause they know why we’re here,’ Rania said. ‘And they want to stop us?’

  Larry stretched back in his chair, pulling his neck first to one side, then the other. ‘They’re a step ahead,’ he said. ‘They’re always a step ahead. They knew we were there, at the prison. And that boy, he found us at Lunia’s. How the hell do they know?’

  ‘It has to be us,’ Lecanora said. ‘They’re Aegirans, so if they’re close enough, they can find us. We are all as one.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s a hell of a tactical disadvantage, Princess,’ Doug drawled, his face tight and his lips firm. ‘Any way you can turn that shit off?’

  Lecanora turned to him. ‘Can you turn off who you are, Doug?’

  ‘Huh?’ Doug frowned at her.

  Lecanora spoke softly. ‘Can you turn off your nature? As man? And killer?’

  Doug’s voice softened, too, as he looked at Lecanora. ‘A killer is only one part of what I am, Princess,’ he said. Then he sighed. ‘But no, I cannot turn it off. Point taken.’

  Arty kept opening and closing the little fridge, like he hoped something more interesting might appear. When it didn’t, he pulled out a can of soda and a candy bar and opened them quickly. ‘So,’ he said. ‘‘Nough with the soul searching. Tonight. We get into the reception. Yep?’

  Rania nodded.

  Arty went on, checking off items on his stubby fingers. ‘Lunia, you got the tickets?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, digging in her bag and produced three golden pieces of paper.

  ‘You, Rania and Lecanora,’ Arty said, ‘you’ll corner her in the restroom, yeah? Me, Carragheen, and the big guy—’ He jerked his thumb towards Doug. ‘—we’ll be waiting near the ladies. We’ll take the guards, if there’s any trouble.’

  Lecanora felt her hands shake as she held them up. ‘But you won’t kill them,’ she said. ‘Will you?’

  ‘No honey,’ Arty said, taking her hand and placing it across his heart. ‘Unless anyone pulls something nasty, we’ll do only what we need to.’

  * * *

  She looked at herself in the mirror, and barely recognized the reflection. The black dress highlighted the silver blonde-ness of her hair. It hung with single straps from the very outside of her shoulders, emphasizing the point of bone in the center. She half turned in the mirror and watched how it fell down completely at the back, revealing the long line of light brown skin that dropped away almost to her buttocks, hinting at the gentle swell there. The dress was long, and the silver shoes Doug had managed to locate for her in the boutique were the perfect size. Even though they sparkled prettily, and were high in the pointless fashion of this place, they were also comfortable.

  She wondered again how this man knew so much about women’s fashion. How he seemed to know so much about almost everything.

  She made her way out of the little curtains.

  ‘Better,’ Doug said, whistling in appreciation. He was leaning against a wall, long legs in tight jeans crossed at the feet. ‘The other one was too short. Too obvious. And you don’t need obvious.’

  What did that mean? Too obvious? How strange these people were.

  Arty had insisted on accompanying them when Lecanora had said that Rania should stay with Carragheen, who was still recovering from the hydroport.

  ‘Too much back.’ Arty frowned disapprovingly. ‘I like the other
one. The high neck. High back. Long.’

  Doug laughed, his brown eyes dancing in a way that made Lecanora’s breath hitch. ‘Have you adopted the girl, Arty? She’s not a nun.’

  Arty shuffled a little. ‘No, smartass,’ he said. ‘I’m just helpin’. She don’t need to look like no desperado. Classy woman like that. She’s a Princess, fer crisskaes.’

  Doug nodded at the dress Lecanora was wearing, sweeping his eyes all the way over it, and over Lecanora, in a way that was both somehow intimate and reverential. ‘This one’s perfect,’ he said.

  And Lecanora nodded. It was. She went back in to the little dressing room to take the dress off, but the low zipper that sat at the small of her back stuck.

  She poked her head out through the curtains. ‘I need help,’ she said.

  Doug stepped forward, his eyes gleaming, and Arty elbowed him in the stomach. ‘Back off, Bigfoot,’ he said, motioning to the sales assistant. ‘Excuse me Miss,’ he said. ‘My niece needs some help in there.’

  Lecanora stood in the little dressing room and smiled.

  * * *

  Lecanora was at the basin, washing her hands. It amused her, this Land fascination with cleanliness. Everything about these people was really rather dirty, but they managed it by incessant washing—of their clothes, their fingers, their faces. Lecanora knew she had to learn to do it if she was to fit in here.

  Her eyes flicked up the mirror. She noticed again how the strange, beautiful dress darkened the lightness of her eyes, and made her silver hair looked almost sparkling.

  Black-tie. A strange term. There was no tie on this dress at all.

  As she reached for the thick white hand towel hanging on a little rail, the door swung open and a small man walked in. He had very little hair, only a few wisps that clung defiantly to his otherwise bald head. His back was hunched and he shuffled along with his head down. When he looked up, he started. ‘Oh, my Lord, I’m so sorry,’ he said, with a pronounced lisp. He was pushing a small cart stocked with cleaning products, mops, brooms and plastic bottles. ‘I was told to give the restrooms one last sweep before the reception starts. I thought these were still empty. The reception doesn’t start for at least half an hour.’