Chapter 42 #5
He looked at Beth Fahey. The Arcana had told her too much, showed her too much. He didn’t want to make an enemy of Lucas Frost, but he also didn’t want one of his detectives going back to Wyrd thinking the Arcana were benign. They weren’t—and neither was that island and how it worked.
“I wasn’t told where the clothes were found.
” Forrester addressed his team, but he kept his eyes on Fahey.
“However, based on my experience and some of the things I’ve seen, I’m guessing the boy went through a moon gate and was careless about his intentions.
Moon gates only go in one direction. If Palmer went through a transportation gate and got on a bus or a train, he could end up anywhere in Wyrd.
” And Wyrd was a lot bigger than that island.
The boy could end up on a train or a bus that will let him off in another place that is a convergence of the uncanny.
Or he could be on a train or a bus that never lets people get off until they have met the requirements of their intentions.
Please, God, don’t let that boy end up on a ship.
“He also wouldn’t have shed his clothes in the park.
However, if he went through a transformation gate, what he becomes will match his intentions. He will become something else.”
Castelletti and Kuhn stared at him. They were seasoned detectives who had crossed the river and asked the questions that needed asking, but they didn’t have the deeply haunted look at the back of their eyes that was a sign they had seen the after-dark truth about Wyrd.
He had. So there were times when he had quietly crossed the river and dealt with the situations he suspected would break good men.
Now? Something about Fahey’s presence had changed the team’s connection with the Arcana, and that changed what he had to share with his team about Wyrd.
Even if they never saw the evidence, they all needed to know the reasons behind the cases that might never be solved.
“Can’t he go through another gate and change back to who he was?” Fahey asked.
Forrester shook his head. “He would automatically change back if he specified a time limit to the transformation. ‘I will be an octopus and live in Destiny Bay for one week.’ If he spoke with intention—and survived any predators that might find an octopus an appealing, if surprising, meal—he would change back into the teenage boy he had been. If he didn’t speak with intention…
” He sighed. “The Arcana will search for Palmer in and around Destiny Park, and most likely, they will find him—or what is left of him.”
“The other boy?” Castelletti asked. “Should someone cross the river and help with a search?” When Forrester said nothing, Castelletti added, “They are going to search for Ted Ocampo, aren’t they?”
“No one on Wyrd is going to interfere with Ted Ocampo’s fate,” Forrester said quietly. “We wait until we are called.”
Forrester walked into his office. He wasn’t surprised that Beth Fahey followed him.
“They will call.” She made the words a statement, not a question.
“Yes, they’ll call.”
“For us to pick up a body.”
He nodded. “Hopefully only one.”
7
A wave filled Ted’s mouth with water at the moment he turned his head for a breath. He choked and coughed up river water, which forced him to stop. Which forced him to tread water and look around.
Which forced him to wonder what the freaking fuck he was doing in the river.
Then some part of his brain that had been numbed by terror woke up, and he remembered running away from the moon gate. Running and running. Looking for the pavilion or the ferry? Maybe?
When he reached the shoreline, it hadn’t looked like the area where the ferry docked.
He remembered standing there looking across the river and desperately wanting to go home.
He remembered stripping down to his briefs because the Fate River had a strong current and waterlogged jeans would pull him under.
He remembered…Had he sent a text to Colin before tucking his phone inside his sneakers?
He remembered wading into the water and setting off across the river. He was a strong swimmer, a member of Penwych High School’s swim team, but even a strong swimmer didn’t have much chance of getting across the Fate, especially at this time of year, when the water was turning cold.
“Hey!” a voice shouted. “Grab the ring buoy! I’ll pull you in!”
A ring attached to a rope landed in the water in front of him and floated past until the rope was taut.
Kicking as hard as he could, Ted lunged for the rope and got one hand on it, then got an arm hooked into the buoy.
“Hurry up, boy, or the current will roll the dinghy right over you!”
Ted looked at the man who was hauling on the rope. The current was taking the dinghy, but it was taking him too. He swam toward the dinghy as the man hauled in the rope.
“I’ll lean hard on this side and keep the rope taut,” the man said. “You climb aboard.”
Ted nodded. With one arm still looped in the buoy, he put both hands on the dinghy and surged over the side, landing in an awkward sprawl.
The man dropped the rope, set the oars in the oarlocks, and began rowing hard for the shore. The mundane, ordinary, kiss-the-ground-and-thank-God shore.
“Swimming in this river is a good way to get yourself killed,” the man said.
“Yeah,” Ted agreed, his teeth chattering. “It w-was stupid.”
“But you were scared enough to risk it.”
Ted nodded.
“That island.” The man’s mouth worked, but no words came out. “I hope you get to where you want to go, boy. I truly do.”
Home. I want to get home. “I’m Ted Ocampo.”
“Alan Naylor. Were you there very long?” He lifted his chin to indicate the island.
“Just today. I think just today.”
Alan rowed, but the shore didn’t seem like it was getting any closer. “I’ve been lost for a while now. Not sure how long.”
He didn’t know what to say, so Ted stared at the ring buoy. It looked old, and the name was so faded, he couldn’t make out the words.
“Oh, God, no.”
The look in Alan’s eyes and the despair in his voice made Ted twist around to see what was there.
A three-masted schooner appeared out of nowhere and sailed toward them, but two of the largest sails had been lowered, so the ship approached them at a leisurely pace.
A woman stood at the rail dressed in an old-fashioned costume that made Ted think of pirates.
She looked at Alan, who moaned, then looked at Ted.
She touched two fingers to her temple in a kind of salute—and the ship sailed on as the crew hauled on the lines of the other two sails.
“They let me go,” Alan whispered. Then he let out a shout of joy. “You are a good luck piece, Ted Ocampo. If you weren’t with me, she would have hauled me back again. But that ship isn’t your fate.” He shuddered. “Let’s get ashore before she changes her mind and comes back for us.”
Alan applied himself to the oars, finally closing the distance between the dinghy and the land.
Maybe he’d gotten too much water in his eyes. Maybe he was in shock or something. Or maybe it was the day turning overcast, but Ted thought Alan looked older the closer they got to the shore.
“You want me to row for a while?” Ted asked. “I’m pretty strong.” He was shivering and practically naked, so he might not look like he could lift an oar, let alone row against the river’s current.
Alan shook his head. “Has to be me. Has to…” Lifting the oars out of the water, he pulled at a string around his neck and tugged a package out of his shirt. “Take this. Take it!”
Ted took the package. Some kind of heavy waxed paper folded and sealed with wax.
Alan started rowing again, but he was wheezing now.
“There’s a letter to my wife inside that package.
Her name is Emma. The letter explains…I wasn’t a good man, didn’t appreciate what I had, always wanted more and thought I should have it, no matter the cost. I got into trouble with some bad men, and I went to Wyrd and made a bargain.
I said, ‘I want to get on a ship and disappear until all my enemies are gone.’ That’s what I said, and they fulfilled their side of the bargain.
I just didn’t know…I helped you. Didn’t I help you, Ted? ”
“Yes, sir. You did.”
“Take that letter to the police. Emma may have moved, but they’ll figure out how to find her and give her the letter. There’s also a list of the men I ran with for a while until I got into trouble with them. The cops will want that too.”
The shore was close. Rocky. No easy place to land the dinghy.
“Get that ring around you,” Alan said. “I’ll get as close to the shore as I can, but you’ll still have to fight the river to reach land. The buoy should help you.”
“What about you? If we tie the rope to the dinghy, once I get ashore, I can pull you in.”
“I…” Alan looked like he was in pain. “I don’t think I’m meant to reach the shore.” He smiled. “But I got away from the ship, and you’ll find a way to take that letter to Emma. That’s good enough. Go now. I can’t hold on much longer.”
Ted wiggled the buoy over his shoulders until he looked like he was wearing a donut.
He slipped the string around his neck to avoid losing the package.
Then he went over the side—and discovered the water was chest high.
The current tried to yank his legs out from under him, but he fought it, step by step, until he reached a rock he could grab as an anchor.
Slippery rocks. Couldn’t get careless. A wrong step could break an ankle. Hand over hand. Climbing step by careful step.
Grass.
Ted hauled himself up the last few feet and collapsed for a moment before sitting up.
Alan Naylor and the dinghy were gone.
8
Charles Forrester approached the worktable where his team waited. “What have we got?” The same thing we had an hour ago. Two missing teenagers and no way to know if we’ll find either one of them.