Hidden Currents (32 page)

Jackson was there before her, inserting his large, immovable frame between her and the exit. “Talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” She frowned and shoved a hand over her silky hair in agitation, her expression far away, eyes a little fey. “Abbey. She’s upset. She’s heading into . . .” She looked over his shoulder toward the spreading gray mass, now closer to shore.
“That.”

“Are you certain?”

Her gaze came back to his face and this time she looked annoyed. “Of course I’m certain. She’s my sister. We’re all tied together. Can’t you feel her, too? Through me?”

Jackson allowed himself further into Elle’s mind and Abigail’s alarm was wrenching. She was in a near state of panic. The phone jarred both of them. “Get it, Elle.”

“But Abbey may need me.”

“Get the phone. I’ll go to Abbey.” He already knew exactly what Abigail was doing and no way was he allowing Elle anywhere near the sea. “That will be Aleksandr. Tell him to get over here now and guard your ass. He was working out near Fort Bragg.” He gave her a small shove toward the phone and sprinted for his bedroom.

When he returned minutes later, he was in his wet suit, flippers in hand, his scuba gear and diving belt on his shoulder. “I want you in the house. Do you understand me? You stay inside with the door closed and the dog with you. Swear it to me, Elle, or I don’t go.”

“But I should—”

“Swear it to me, damn it,” he said, cutting her off.

Abigail’s distress increased and both of them could see her now. She flashed past the house running toward the ocean.

“I won’t leave the house, I promise. Help her, Jackson.”

Jackson caught the nape of her neck, kissed her hard and turned and ran outside. “Abbey, wait. I’m getting the boat. It will take less time.”

Abbey was at the water’s edge, belting on her tank. “Hurry, Jackson. Boscoe’s caught in a net, or something. He’s going to drown.”

Jackson leapt into his old truck and fired up the engine. He launched the dory into the surf within minutes. Abbey was in tears, looking out to sea. The engine started on the second pull and they sped off.

“Thank you. I wasn’t certain how I’d get back. He’s a distance out.”

He didn’t give her a lecture. She’d been around the sea all of her life. It was growing dark. The wind had picked up and even with the Drakes’ help, she couldn’t fight a stormy sea at night. Not to mention, and he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, the bigger predators that came out this time of night to feed.

The dory cut through the surf, bumping as he increased speed. Abbey looked out toward deeper waters, whistling every now and then. He could barely hear over the engine, but she directed him, following the instructions of Kiwi, the other male bottlenose, as he emitted a series of squeaks and clicks. It was unusual that the male dolphins and their group spent so much time near Sea Haven, as it was common for them to swim up to fifty miles in a day, yet they “hung out” to be close to Abigail.

He slowed the dory when she signaled to him and turned on the spotlight, directing it into the muddy waters below. “Try to use as little psychic energy as possible, Abbey,” he cautioned. “Gratsos is out here, riding in the fog, and he’s seeking a target again.”

“I don’t care about that. I’m going in.”

“Wait!” He said it sharply, catching her shoulder and holding her in spite of her efforts to somersault into the water. “We go together and we go tied together. The water is going to be very cold, very dark and now, more dangerous than ever, and we have no idea what we’re going to find down there.” He shoved a webbed harness for her ankle at her. “Put it on.”

“I have a knife already.” She touched her belt.

“Fucking put it on, Abbey. We aren’t taking any chances.”

A brief smile flashed at him as Abbey strapped the harness to her leg so the knife fit snugly. “You have such a foul mouth, Jackson. Wait until all your little girls talk like that.” She accepted the end of the six foot length of rope and clipped it to her belt so they were loosely tied together.

Kiwi leapt from the water, dousing them both, his head bobbing as he scolded Abbey, urging her to hurry. His body slammed back into the water and he circled the boat.

Jackson thrust a light into her hand, watched as she put in her mouthpiece and motioned to her to go in. He followed right behind her. The dolphin slipped close, brushing their bodies once, twice and then angled so Abbey could reach out and catch his fin. He dove, taking her with him. Jackson felt the pull of the rope and swam down, following. The dolphin was incredibly strong and fast, dragging them both through the sea, deeper and deeper.

It was dark and the beam from their lights barely cut through the murky water. The world was cold and foreign, instead of the way Jackson usually saw it when he dove. There was a feeling of dread, of danger building and twice Abbey looked back at him and he knew she was feeling it as well. Jackson allowed the dolphin to do the work, looking around below and above, doing his best to provide a guardian for Abigail in the hopes of seeing anything deadly coming before it actually reached them.

The dolphin swam out from under Abbey abruptly and circled a struggling mass. Boscoe, tangled in a fisherman’s net, was bleeding from his nose and fins as he fought to free himself. Jackson pulled his knife out while Abbey put her hands on the dolphin, calming him.

He felt a small surge of energy in the water, almost electric, as she communicated with the animal and knew they were in real trouble now. By using psychic energy to keep the dolphin calm while he slashed and cut through the thick netting, she was calling down another psychic attack on them. He had no idea what form it would take, but they were extremely vulnerable there in the cold ocean at night. Abbey began helping him, although it took a great deal of strength to cut through the netting. They circled the dolphin as fast as possible, pulling the net away from him as they went.

It seemed to take a long time—too long—with the dark water surrounding them and the dolphin occasionally thrashing out of desperation in spite of Abigail’s reassurances. There was no telling how long he’d been fighting and he was exhausted and needed air. The moment he was free, he surged toward the surface, Kiwi abandoning them to help Boscoe. Jackson kept the knife in his hand and signaled to Abigail to go to the surface.

She nodded and began to swim, kicking strongly in an effort to hurry. Jackson stayed right behind her, and he felt the first tug on his body, a powerful flow of water backwashing against the tide. Swearing to himself, he used his strength to try to keep them going in the direction they wanted—up—but the wash of water caught them both and tumbled them much like a spinning washing machine.

Jackson flung out his arms in an effort to snag Abigail and bring her in close to him, to help protect her from the debris churning with them, but he could only feel her suit as she tumbled beneath him toward the sea floor. His body smashed against the ocean floor. He rolled over and over, his tank scraping, the force of the water trying to strip his body of all gear. He made himself relax, letting the water take him, feeling the pull of the rope anchoring him to Abigail. He knew with the force of the turbulence, the rope could snap.

Jackson pushed off the bottom and began to swim perpendicular to the shore. It was difficult to figure out exactly where he was when he’d been spinning and tumbling. The rope stretched taut and he applied a little pressure, knowing Abbey was far more familiar with the sea and its dangers than most people. She was a marine biologist and spent a great deal of her time underwater. There wouldn’t be any panicking for Abigail.

He felt the rope slacken and immediately she brushed his leg, indicating she was swimming with him. They should have been able to pull out of the undertow, but another powerful backwash caught them again. Jackson had the impression of a bowler striking, using the hidden current to take them down and under. They rolled together this time, Jackson and Abigail gripping each other’s arms and thighs to try to lessen the damage. Again he pushed off the floor, using the strength of his legs. There were sometimes rip currents aplenty along the northern coastline, but not this—not an undertow. Gratsos had attacked.

Something large and heavy bumped them. He drew away, but Abigail reached out eagerly. He realized the dolphin was back and she’d seized the fin. Kiwi used his powerful body to drag them out of the undertow and back up toward the surface. The water sucked at them for a moment and then they were swimming free.

It seemed to take forever to rise to the surface. When he broke through the water and looked around, the dory was a good distance away and the wind had kicked up the waves to several feet high. They began to swim in the trough between waves. Something brushed his hand as he pulled on a downstroke. Abigail gasped.

“Look out, Jackson. Oh my God. Stay still for a moment.”

He did so, swiveling around, trying to make out what had upset her. All around them, like a forest of giant mushrooms, jellyfish floated up from the bottom, hundreds of them. He’d never seen them so large. He’d been in the ocean often enough to see wide populations of jellyfish moving through the water, but none like these. The pink mushroom caps were large, like strange monsters of the deep. Tentacles stretched out in the water from so many jellyfish moving together, the long feelers created a forest of toxic limbs reaching for anything unsuspecting in their path.

“Don’t touch the tentacles,” Abbey cautioned.

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Jackson demanded, turning around, searching for a way through the dense field. “What are these things?”

“Jellyfish, an entire army of them. I swear they’re trying to find us, and they aren’t supposed to do that.”

“Fucking tell that to them, Abbey, because they don’t seem to know it. How are we getting out of here?”

They tried not to move because the slightest wiggle of an arm or leg brought the creatures closer, as if the movement of their bodies drew attention to them.

“Do you feel the energy surrounding them?” Abigail asked.

Waves splashed over him and he nearly choked. When he could, he shook his head carefully. “No. But if there’s psychic energy it has to be that bastard coming at us.”

“We have no choice but to fight fire with fire,” she said.

“Not Elle, Abbey. She’ll burn herself out. She needs to rest.”

“The rest of us don’t. And he’s not getting our sister—or you.” Abigail splashed water with the flat of her hand in disgust, directing it away from them and watching the jellyfish swarm where the water fell. “Elle could totally kick this amateur’s ass if she was at full strength.”

They bobbed in the waves, trying not to move too much. “So how do we get out of here, Abbey? You’re the expert.”

“We can’t go below, they’re coming up from below us. He’s set some sort of a trap, but as you can see, it’s not specific toward us. He’s using the traces of psychic energy to trigger his attacks. I was using it on Boscoe, both to calm him and to heal him. I didn’t want him getting infections.” It was difficult to talk and both were getting tired, trying to let the waves come and go without throwing them around. Abbey looked toward her home.

Almost at once Jackson could feel a subtle difference in the wind. It shifted direction, a soft ruffling rather than a roar, carrying a sweet feminine voice with it. Joley Drake. Superstar, with a voice like a siren’s, calling to the jellyfish, beckoning them across the water. A spell singer, Joley could persuade anything or anyone with her voice. It drifted like kelp, peaceful and serene, melodious and haunting, and all the while the strains of melody whispered and cajoled the jellyfish, summoning them to her.

Tentacles lashed the water, the current of psychic energy exploding in answer to Joley’s song, but the huge group of jellyfish moved away from Abigail and Jackson, toward Joley’s voice, propelled by their need to answer. Jackson and Abbey waited for the migration to pass and then began to swim back to the dory.

Jackson had taken two strokes through the water, with Abigail on his left side, when suddenly her body jerked hard, the rope between them pulling taut. She clenched her fist and began beating on something unseen beneath the water, striking it over and over, before gasping and going under, her eyes looking at him, desperation and horror on her face. Jackson shoved his mouthpiece into his mouth and dove with her, following her body down below the surface.

The water was dark, and he could barely make out a massive fin and the torpedo-shaped body, a single, round eye and jaws clamped around Abbey’s leg, her fist punching at its nose and eyes. The water churned and clouded more, obscuring his vision.

Kicking strongly, Jackson tried to turn, realizing the shark had released Abbey and had disappeared from his sight. He turned to see a huge gaping mouth, the double rows of teeth looking like a circular saw, wicked and primitive and far too massive to avoid. It charged past Jackson and hit Abbey again, hard enough that her body jerked and was propelled forward. He saw her hand flash as the water erupted into a churning mass of bubbles and debris, once again obscuring his vision.

His body was drawn through the water rapidly, pulled by the rope tying him to Abbey. He swam faster, trying to catch up, knife in his fist as he approached the huge shark, trying to get around it to the head. The jaws were clamped around Abbey’s back and stomach, the metal tank crushed in its mouth, Abbey trying to fight as he came up on its left side. He sank the knife deep into the animal’s eye and it reared its head back, opening the wide jaws to release Abigail.

Another large body shot past him and rammed the shark in the belly from underneath and Jackson caught Abbey around the waist and shoved his airpiece in her mouth as he kicked away from the shark. A second dolphin took up the attack, slamming hard into the shark’s belly. As soon as it streaked away, a third and then a fourth took up the fight, the dolphins protecting Abbey, playing a dangerous game of tag team to give them time to escape.

Jackson didn’t waste the precious moments the dolphins gave them. He swam hard, taking Abigail with him, pausing only to take a breath as he angled their escape toward the dory. He tried to keep them in the trough between the waves, and stay out of Gratsos hidden traps of psychic energy.