26. Trouble
Chapter 26
Trouble
Fourteenth floor—Later that night
“ A fter a meal like that, I need a walk.” Cerissa stood when Henry pulled back her chair at the dining table, and she grabbed the strap of her clutch. “I hope the weather’s cleared a bit.”
Karen waved them off. “Rolf and I are catching a comedian in one of the smaller club rooms. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Leaning over, Cerissa gave her a hug. “Sounds like a plan.”
A romantic stroll on the top deck with Henry would help her catch a second wind. She really should have skipped dessert and the after-dinner liqueur, but this was the last formal night, and the dessert options were just too tempting. Sporadic rain hit the dining room’s windows as they left. Even if it was raining, the elevated jogging course provided an overhead shelter around the edge of the main pool and would allow them to see the stormy seas through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels while getting a bit of fresh air.
When they arrived at the eighteenth floor, a uniformed officer stood squarely in front of the exit. His presence should have triggered the automatic sensor, but the double doors remained shut.
“Good evening. I’m sorry, but the deck is closed. I’m afraid you can’t go out right now.”
“Closed?” Henry asked.
Cerissa frowned. “Because of the rain?”
“Unfortunately, there’s an unexpected weather event and, for passenger safety, the captain has closed the deck.”
“That seems rather extreme for some rain and choppy seas.” She glanced at Henry, who shrugged. “When will the area reopen?”
“You’ll have to ask guest services for any further information, ma’am.”
A shiver ran through her. That didn’t sound reassuring. Not at all.
With a hand on her back, Henry guided her away. “What would you like to do?”
“Let’s go downstairs and find out exactly what’s happening.”
It took them little time to descend the three flights of stairs. The concierge service for the suites was still open, and the regular nighttime host staffed the desk. He looked pristine in a black suit and blue tie, the standard uniform. They’d met before.
“Hello,” she said.
“Good evening, Mr. and Dr. Patel-Vasquez. How may I be of service?”
“I’m hoping you could tell us when the upper deck will reopen?” Cerissa asked. “The officer mentioned a weather event?”
“Ah yes, I’m afraid the balconies and outer walkways will remain closed tonight. For passenger safety, we’ve shut it—”
“Because of rain?”
“Well, at the moment, it’s raining, and the deck is slippery, but the captain plans to make an announcement soon. There’s been an unexpected weather event—”
She shook her head at him. “Another crew member used that phrase. What kind of weather event?”
“An unseasonal tropical cyclone.”
“A tropical cyclone. You mean a hurricane?” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. They were in the northeastern Pacific. Tropical cyclones never occurred between Hawaii and the continental U.S. at a latitude this high. The digital map behind the concierge desk showed the ship north of Hawaii, eight hundred nautical miles from shore, and they’d navigate south to reach Oahu in the next day or so.
What in the name of the Goddess was going on?
“There’s no need to be alarmed. We’re taking all the precautions necessary for passenger safety and closing the deck is chief among them. The captain will make an announcement shortly—within the hour. Then we’ll host Q&A sessions for anyone looking for more information. They’ll be held at all the major entertainment and lounge areas. We’re also highlighting our recommended precautions, as well as all other changes that may affect your cruising experience.”
Henry tapped his finger on the countertop. “How long is the tropical cyclone expected to last?”
The concierge pressed his lips together, touched the screen of the small laptop on his desk, and nodded. “It should take about twenty-four hours, but please understand, that is a tentative estimate. The captain is currently slowing the ship in hopes the storm moves past us before we are too far into its path.”
“And if the hurricane doesn’t?”
“Provided the eye doesn’t stall, which is unlikely, we’ll pass through the tail end.”
“And what does that mean? For the ship?”
“The seas may still be rough. Your cabins are high enough not to experience any flooding. We are taking precautions to block balconies on lower levels, and, of course, we are not allowing anyone on deck. Rest assured, the ship’s stabilizers are designed for an ocean crossing, even a stormy one. If you’re inclined toward seasickness, we can offer you a choice of over-the-counter medications, or you may see the ship’s doctor now at no charge for a seasickness patch.”
“Flooding—” Cerissa stopped, shaking her head.
Was their wedding and honeymoon cursed? The silver stake threat, Petar’s murder, Jill’s live feeding, and now a hurricane at sea?
“Is there anything else we should expect?” Henry asked, rubbing a comforting hand down her back.
“We’re at the very outer edges as we approach the storm, so you’ll notice the rain and wind outside. At eleven thirty, we’re closing all major entertainment and lounge areas, as we’re recommending all guests return to their staterooms by midnight. We expect the seas to be roughest between midnight and five a.m., so being in your cabin lessens the risk of falls.”
Cerissa rubbed her temples. “I need a drink.”
The concierge typed something into the keyboard. “You’ll find a hundred-dollar credit added to your ship’s account. Please enjoy a bottle of wine on us. I do apologize for this inconvenience. Please know we have your safety utmost in mind.”
Drinking when the ship was going to rock violently might not be a great idea for a mortal, but with her metabolism, she could imbibe the entire bottle and be fine.
“Thank you for your courtesy.” Henry led Cerissa away from the desk. “ Cari?a , what is your preference? We could order something for the room—”
“We need to warn Rolf and Karen.”
“I’ll send them a text now. Even if they don’t see it during their comedy show, they’ll hear the captain’s announcement—I’m sure the performance will pause for it.”
She nodded, then glanced at her watch. They had time before the midnight curfew. “I want to grab my laptop, and we can go to our favorite dance club. The closer we are to the center of the ship on a lower deck, the better. It’ll reduce the arc if the waves get rougher.”
“Are you certain that’s wise?”
“I want to research something. But I also want my laptop just in case the crew misjudges things and wants us to shelter in place suddenly.”
Ten minutes later, they reached the club. Everything seemed fine once they arrived. There was no noticeable swaying at all. The band played soft music, perfect for calming frayed nerves.
She put off ordering a bottle of wine and asked for a scotch instead.
Henry caressed her wrist with his thumb. “Would you like to dance while we wait for your drink?”
“Give me a moment. I want to check something first. Oh, and has Rolf replied?”
“They are still at the comedy show, but received my message. He’ll have Karen back in her room by midnight.”
“Good.” She pressed the button on the laptop and, once it powered up and connected to the ship’s Wi-Fi, checked the Lux server for an update on the chart of pending climate catastrophes, turning the screen so Henry could read over her shoulder.
Last January, after he got trapped in an unpredicted avalanche, she’d reviewed the database and learned the Lux were tracking an increase in unusual natural disasters. The database even listed the drought in their own town of Sierra Escondida, which an earthquake had caused. The quake had flattened the Sacramento-San Joaquin levee system, allowing brackish water to enter and interrupt the flow of drinking water to Central and Southern California. Other events included glacier melt, which would dilute the salt in the oceans and cause a coral die-off. Tropical cyclones, like the one in their path, were expected to increase in areas they’d never occurred before as oceans warmed at higher latitudes and broadened the at-risk zone. A few more consequences were being watched, including changes in growing seasons that reduced crop yields to twenty percent of normal in some locales.
The current report attached to the database still predicted mass starvation in the next fifty years, and the dire predictions ended with a tease, hinting about an upcoming rollout of an action plan.
She clicked on the link and hissed her frustration. No one had read her in yet on how the Lux would deal with the problem. During the past ten months, she’d asked for access repeatedly.
It made little sense that Agathe had said no each time. Sure, the Lux kept information compartmentalized. They shared with Cerissa the secrets necessary to complete her mission of providing clone blood for the treaty communities. The Lux feared that if the treaty’s current prohibition on the creation of new vampires ended, and the population increased to unsustainable levels, vampires would feed on humans until they wiped mortals off the face of the planet.
Because of her success at that important task, she’d received a lot of special treatment. Agathe had given her access to the original vampire’s DNA created by the Lux, along with permission to read the confidential journals documenting the botched genetic-engineering experiment—at least, what they thought was a botched attempt to find a new reproduction strategy for the Lux. Instead, they’d created vampires.
Even her marriage to Henry had Agathe’s blessing.
If they could trust her with all of that, then why keep her in a bubble of ignorance with the climate disaster plan?
When Cerissa finished reading the most recent entries, she leaned in close to Henry. “Should I call Ari?”
“And tell him what?” He squeezed her thigh. “Cruise ships go through storms all the time. If you feel we’re in danger, you can flash us to the Enclave.”
She swallowed her impatience with a sip of scotch. He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, but she didn’t want to snap at him for stating the obvious. “No, I mean to argue for greater access.”
“But haven’t you done so before?”
“Yes, but Agathe hasn’t approved it. I’m frustrated.”
“I know, mi amor . But for now, let’s enjoy our honeymoon and you can submit the request—again—when we return.”
She needed a better reason than I want it to convince Agathe. Something to do with her current mission for the Lux. And right now, she couldn’t think of one. “Fine, you win.”
By the time her honeymoon ended, she’d think of a sounder argument to persuade Agathe.
Henry raised her hand to his lips, kissing her palm, sending a sexy shiver through her. “Would you like to dance? Before the seas get too rough?”
“You have the most unfair way of arguing, do you know that?”
“Dancing on our honeymoon? Completely fair game.”
Cerissa opened her mouth to reply, but the ship-wide intercom dinged. “Good evening, this is your captain speaking…”
Cerissa folded the laptop shut and listened as the captain relayed information similar to what the concierge had told them, though a bit more concisely and orderly. She watched other guests leave the dance floor, but no one seemed to panic. The captain ended by letting them know the locations of the upcoming Q&A sessions and reminding them of the curfew.
After the announcement finished, a few people left the club, but many stayed.
“ Cari?a , shall we dance?”
Leaving her laptop and purse on her seat, Cerissa let Henry guide her onto the dance floor and went into his arms. The four-piece group—piano, guitar, bass, and drums—played a slow love song. The tingle of her breasts brushing against his chest, and the feel of Henry’s arm around her lower back, his long fingers wrapping over her hip, pulling her close to him, helped her relax. She gazed into his crystalline brown eyes and the rest of the room faded away.
They’d danced through two songs when the ship suddenly seemed to dip to the side. She stumbled, and he caught her, but too late. “Fuck,” she muttered. “I twisted my ankle. Damn high heels.”
He swept her in his arms. “Let’s get you back to our suite.”
A bartender called out, “Is she okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” She waved him off. When Henry headed to the exit, she said, “Wait. My purse and laptop.”
He returned to their seats, bent over—still holding her—to let her gather them, and she laid them on her stomach.
He carried her to the hallway. “Elevator or stairs?”
“It might be too far to climb carrying me—”
“To me, you’re as light as a feather.”
“Still, let’s take the elevator.”
The ship-wide intercom dinged again. “This is your captain. As anticipated, we are encountering rough water, but unfortunately, one of the stabilizers has gone offline. We ask that you return to your cabins for the night now, for the safety of all passengers and crew. All bars, lounges, and other entertainment areas are closed. We apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your cooperation. You can call guest services from your stateroom if you have any urgent queries.”
“A shade late,” Henry whispered as he carried her into the empty elevator.
“I suppose they couldn’t anticipate a stabilizer breaking.”
He dipped, still holding her in his arms, and she swiped her room card over the reader and punched the fifteenth-floor button. The doors shut before anyone else hopped on, and as the elevator climbed, Cerissa looked up at him. “Should I flash us out of here?”
“Not yet. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
She cast a skeptical look his way. They were headed into a hurricane, and one of the ship’s stabilizers had failed. What was next? An iceberg?