Lies Beneath (2 page)

I staggered to my feet and dressed quickly. God, I hoped Maris wasn’t pulling me back early for nothing. If this Jason Hancock was
the
Jason Hancock, it wouldn’t be our typical kill. I wouldn’t want to absorb anything his body had to offer. He wouldn’t even count against my experiment in self- control. No. This time it would be nothing more than revenge.

With that word heavy on my tongue, I lowered my Ray- Bans over my eyes and turned away from the ocean. I was trapped by the inevitable: It was time to head back north.

6

2

THE RELUCTANT BROTHER

M inneapolis sprawled below me as I circled the airport in a DC- 9. My quads cramped with dehydration, and I groaned involuntarily. It was a good thing I wasn’t looking for sympathy. It’s not like anyone could have heard me over the roar of the engines.

A businessman shimmied down the narrow aisle, bumping his beer belly on people’s shoulders as he passed. “Excuse me, excuse me,” he said. A little boy dropped his Mad Libs into the aisle, and his pencil rolled toward me. I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned over the armrest to scoop it up for him.

7

“Mad Libs. Cool.” I reached across the aisle to set the pencil on his tray.
The boy nodded. “I need an adjective.”
Miserable. Anxious. Freakin’ pissed.
“Try ‘reluctant,’ ” I said with a wry smile. I straightened my legs and brushed the pretzel salt off my pants.
“How do you spell that?”
I wrote it out for him, then dragged a deep breath in through my nose. Dry, stale air laced with people’s breath and body odor filtered through my lungs. The insides of my cheeks constricted against my tongue. I dug a plastic bottle out of my backpack and shook the last drops of water into my wasted mouth. According to my watch, I’d been dry nineteen hours. Twenty- four was as far as I’d pushed it before. Maris always warned us that that was the limit. I’d never felt the need to challenge her. On that point, at least.
The flight attendant stood a few rows ahead of me, checking to see if everyone was prepared for landing. I raised my empty bottle and shook it to flag her down. When she glanced at me, I raised my eyebrows sarcastically.
Hello, sweetheart. Yeah, you. A little quicker, please.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Bottle of water.”
“I’m sorry, but our beverage service is over. We’re starting our descent.” She pointed toward the window to convince me.
Outside, traces of dirty, late- season snow lay crusted and clinging to the Minnesota cornfields and roadside ditches. I clenched my teeth.
Maris better be right about this or so help me . . .
There had been false alarms before.

8

I combed my fingers through my dark hair— jerking them through the snarled ends— then quickly gripped the armrests as the plane touched down and took on that out- of- control feel before finally slowing to a stop. Everyone jumped up from their seats before the seat belt sign was turned off.

I retrieved my tattered baseball cap from the seat back. It bore the logo of the resort where I’d stayed all winter. I ran my thumb along the frayed brim, then pulled the cap down low over my eyes. Powering up my cell phone, I hit Send. Maris picked up on the first ring.

“We’ve landed,” I said. “Come get me. And damn it,

Maris, there’s still snow on the ground.”
“No, there isn’t. Now relax, little brother. We didn’t pull
you out of bikini wonderland for nothing. It will be worth
your trouble.”
“You’re sure you’re not wrong about this one?” “Absolutely sure. And we wouldn’t have called you if we
thought we could do it alone. As much as I hate to admit it,
you’re
superior
to us in many ways.”
I grimaced. It wasn’t true. And it wasn’t even false flattery. Maris chose her words like a surgeon chose a scalpel;
despite the time we spent apart, she always knew how to
cut me. At her mere mention of
Superior,
the urge to migrate
tugged more desperately at my heart, like a hook caught in
my flesh.
Yeah, yeah. I’m coming,
I thought, answering the urge as
much as my sister.
I shoved my cell in my pocket and stood up, ducking
under the overhead compartment. I gestured for the little
boy to go ahead. He dragged and bumped his backpack

9

behind him as he made his way down the aisle. The flight attendants flashed bleached smiles at me as I passed. I would have looked away to avoid the attraction they might pose, but there were no colors radiating off them; there was no true emotion behind their smiles.

I stepped onto the Jetway and felt a sharp wind cutting through the thin, collapsible walls. It might as well been January. I cursed Maris as I made my way through the airport and went to wait on the sidewalk outside the Lindbergh Terminal. There was no reason to stop at baggage claim. Everything I owned was either on my body or in my backpack: pants, shorts, ratty sandals, sweatshirt, two vintage T-shirts, a scuba watch, cell phone, and baseball cap. My sisters had a bit more, but not much. We all traveled light.

I stiffened my arms at my sides and bounced from foot to foot, trying to keep warm. Every thirty seconds I checked my watch. I didn’t know what they’d be driving, but I knew it was them when I saw an old Chevy Impala fishtailing through the barely rolling traffic. I wondered, ruefully, where they’d snagged this one. It looked to be in pretty good shape— far better than the Dodge Omni from last summer. The owner was probably somewhere scratching his head, the victim of my sisters’ hypnotic gifts. He’d know he lost something. But what was it again?

Tallulah and Pavati had their windows down, and they hung their heads out, beaming at me. Pavati’s long dark hair blew around her face in loose waves; Tallulah’s shorter hair hung straight like a thick golden curtain. I shook my head in mock disgust at their taste in stolen property and got in the backseat with Tallulah. She kissed me hard on the cheek.

10

“I couldn’t wait another minute,” she said. “I’ve really, really missed you.”
“Me too, Lulah,” I said. It was almost the truth.
Maris flipped her white- blond hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Kiss, kiss. Now get your head on straight. We’ve got business to discuss, and I need coffee.”

11

3

THE WHITE SISTERS

T allulah turned away from the barista at the Daily Grind and glided toward our table, balancing four paper coffee cups between her long fingers. She set the cups down, and we all reached for one. Maris leaned toward me, her smooth forearms resting on the table, her hands clasped, the knuckles white. She scrutinized my face. My jaw muscles flexed in response.

“You need to eat something, Calder. You look skinny.” “I’m good.”
“Did you work much this winter?”

12
“Some. Plane ticket tapped me out.”

“We’ve got you covered,” said Tallulah. “Pav waitressed in New Orleans this winter. She saved all her tips.”
I nodded. It wasn’t that we needed much, but now and then money was handy. Pavati probably had a small treasure trove amassed in the trunk of the stolen Impala. Humans tipped her as if she were serving the secrets of the universe on a blue plate special. She winked at me, popped the plastic cover off her coffee, and dipped her finger to scoop out the foam.
A man sitting at a nearby table stared at her mouth.
I couldn’t blame him. For better or worse, nature had designed us all to attract the human eye, but Pavati was a particularly gorgeous specimen as monsters went. Unlike Maris’s and Tallulah’s pale complexions, Pavati’s was caramel and melted chocolate. Like a Bollywood superstar, she had square shoulders, a narrow waist, and dark- lashed eyes that glowed lavender and hypnotic. She was, as Maris called her, “the Perfect Bait.”
Even I, her own brother, could fall into her hypnotic trap and find myself fantasizing about her in unhealthy ways. It was a disgusting and humiliating experience, even when I knew she was doing it to me on purpose. “Just for laughs,” she’d say.
Pavati,
I groaned mentally. Maybe I wasn’t totally innocent when it came to toying with my victims before the kill, but at least I did it to ease their fears. Pavati could be downright devastating in her allure. If this Jason Hancock was the one we’d been searching for, he didn’t stand a chance.
Pavati studied my gloomy disposition and chuckled to

13

herself. Maris was less amused by the depression I’d allowed myself to fall into. She narrowed her eyes at me. “We
are
right this time,” she said.

“I’m keeping an open mind.”
“He’s moving his family to Bayfield— to the old house. What are the chances? This
is
the right family, Calder. It’s him.”
Now she had my attention, but I tried to hide my excitement just to piss her off. “Let’s say, just for kicks, you’re right, and you’ve found him,” I said. “How do you plan to do this?”
A smile slowly spread across Maris’s face. Pavati looked up quickly.
Tallulah slid her chair closer to me and linked her arm through mine. “Isn’t it good to have him back?” she asked the other two. She kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand; I squeezed hers back twice before slipping my hand away. This outward image of family harmony was like manna to her. If it were just the two of us, maybe this family would actually work. But there was no use hypothesizing. We’d never be rid of Maris.
Tallulah turned toward her. “Tell him,” she said.
Maris nodded once, happy to have the floor. “We’ve been watching the family for a while,” she said; her eyes glowed silver.
“I assumed as much.” I rocked back in my chair again.
“He has two daughters.”
“They’re close to their father,” said Pavati.
“And?” I asked.
“They”
— Maris paused for dramatic effect— ”are our ticket. To
him.
”

14

I rocked forward, slapping the chair legs onto the floor. “Geez, Maris, isn’t that a little . . . sick?”
She smiled and sat back in her chair. “Thanks.”
“Seriously?” I glanced hopefully at Tallulah. Was she in on this? “Do we have to make this more complicated than necessary? Why involve children? If he is who you think he is, why not let Pavati just do her thing?”
“Sounds good to me,” Pavati said, perking up.
Maris rolled her eyes. “He’s married.”
“So?”
“
Ve r y
married. I don’t think he’s the type to fall for the beautiful- girl- in- the- water routine.”
I shook my head. “Obviously you don’t know men.”
Maris leaned in. “He killed our mother, Calder.”
“No.
He
didn’t.
To m
Hancock was the debtor. His son is only the collateral.”
“You know what I mean.”
“What makes you think Jason Hancock knows anything about his father’s promise? Or what breaking that promise did to Mother? Or to us?”
“What are you saying?” Maris asked, her voice wild and incredulous. “You don’t want to collect on the debt?”
I leaned in, encouraging her to whisper. “Of course I do. I want Jason Hancock as much as you do. I’m just saying . . . if this Jason Hancock is really Tom Hancock’s son . . . there’s no reason to make this more dramatic than necessary. Let Pavati lure him in. Once he’s in the water, we can all take part in dragging him down. We can all get our justice that way. Short and sweet. Done. Then we each go our own way.”
“Why don’t you want to stay with us, Calder?” asked

15
Pavati. Her full bottom lip thrust out in a seductive pout. The man at the neighboring table licked his lips reflexively.

“Have you three looked in the mirror lately?” But I was only looking at Maris. Summers were bad enough. The thought of wintering in New Orleans with my sisters was beyond imagination. “A solidarity of vengeful mermaids? It’s charming.”

Maris’s eyes flashed with an electricity that made the overhead lighting fizz and blink. A pimply- faced boy who got too close stutter- stepped away. The other patrons looked up at the ceiling.

“I’ll tell you what, Calder White.” She spit my name through her teeth. “You play nice. Do this my way. And when it’s over, I promise you can leave without us ever bothering you again.”

“Maris,” Tallulah pleaded.
Maris waved her off. “What do you say, Calder?” It was tempting. I’d been with my sisters since I was three.

Ever since, I’d been tethered to them, our minds connected by an invisible thread I could not sever. When Mother died, Maris became the head of our little family— now only she had the power to cut someone loose. If Maris was suggesting she’d let me go . . . no, it was impossible to imagine. But if she meant it . . . well, if I ever missed my sisters, I could find them. But it would be on my terms. No more emergency summonses. No more guilt trips. No more physical urge to reconvene each spring. Independence wasn’t natural for our kind, but I never claimed to come to this life naturally. Maris never let me forget
that.

Tallulah’s fingers tightened around my bicep, and Pavati looked back and forth from my face to Maris’s.
“Deal.” The word was bitter on my tongue. Tallulah made

16

a softly strangled sound, but I didn’t look at her. “What do we do now? Assuming you’re right.”
“You get close to one of the sisters,” said Pavati.
“How?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Maris leaned over the table and ran her fingers through my thick curls. “You’re not entirely hideous.”
Tallulah fidgeted as Maris touched me.
Laughing, Pavati tossed her hair, and her necklace jangled. Beads of sweat popped up on the upper lip of the man to her left. My eyes darted to him, and he quickly looked away.
Pavati drew closer, putting her arm around my shoulders. “Get invited to the house, Cal.” Her breath was still warm from the Mississippi Delta, and her full lips brushed my ear as she said, “
Meet
the parents.
Be
the boyfriend.”
I nodded. The proposed seduction played out in my mind like a movie— the fake smiles, the deceitful kiss . . .
“Get Jason Hancock to trust you,” Pavati continued. “Tell him you’ve never been fishing. Let him invite you out on the lake.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then we’ll just show up,” she said brightly.
I pictured the three of them transformed, circling the boat like sharks, their lithe bodies cutting through the water, then slinking over the rail.
“Then what?”
“He’ll beg for mercy. He’ll ask us why,” Tallulah said, her voice ringing.
“We’ll take our time,” whispered Pavati.