Maelstrom (30 page)

I went to a balcony on the third floor,
where I could stand and look out over Widdershins without being
observed myself. The strains of the music floated up from below,
and I took a deep breath, smelling the sea air.

My memories of the time in Bradley’s body
might have faded...but I had other memories, too. Whispers of the
moments when I was outside of it. And outside of my rightful body
as well.

The town—no. The maelstrom. The maelstrom
wanted things. Collected things to it. People. Objects. And its
desires weren’t human desires, and it didn’t think as a human or
ketoi, or even an umbrae, would.

But pieces of it...fragments of
it...did.

I didn’t want to remember it. Didn’t want to
think of it. I was Percival Endicott Whyborne, and whatever strange
connection I had to the maelstrom, I was human. Or ketoi. Or
something.

“I wondered where you’d gotten off to,”
Father said from behind me.

“I just wanted a bit of air,” I replied,
glad for the distraction. I stepped to one side, making room for
him at the railing.

“You wanted to brood, you mean.” He’d lit a
cigar, and the smoke drifted between us. “Not that I blame you.
You’ve been through a great deal.” He nodded, as if to himself. “I
knew you’d prevail, though.”

I looked down at my hands where they rested
on the smooth marble. The black pearl on my wedding band glowed in
the sunlight, hinting at a world of hidden colors within. The scars
lacing the fingers of my right hand had paled with time, from red
to a delicate pink.

Scars had a way of doing that. Changing,
diminishing.

But never entirely going away.

“I’m sorry, Father,” I said. “I accused you
unfairly.”

A long plume of smoke streamed from Father’s
nostrils; he looked like an old dragon, contemplating his hoard. “I
tried to do the right thing,” he said. “By you; by Stanford; by
Guinevere. Instead, I failed you all.”

What could I say to that? Any protest that
he was wrong, that none of it was his fault, would be a lie. “Even
so, I shouldn’t have been so eager to believe the worst.” I
swallowed against the dryness in my throat, wishing I’d thought to
bring a glass of champagne with me. “Assuming you were cynically
attempting to manipulate me at every turn was...uncharitable.”

He laughed wryly. “How sad
is it, that the best you can say about me is you were
‘uncharitable’ to assume I was a conniving bastard. No, no, don’t
pretend to argue.” Taking a long draw on his cigar, he tipped his
head back and blew the smoke at the clouds. “Well, I
am
a conniving bastard.
But I respect you. And I believe that, whenever those things come
from the Outside, you’ll give them the boot back to where they
belong.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I certainly hope
you’re right. Speaking of conniving bastards, what do you intend to
do about Stanford?”

“I sent a man to the estate, to retrieve
some of the correspondence you told me about.” He took another puff
on his cigar. “I mailed a few choice pieces to the doctors at the
asylum, expressing my deep concern about Stanford’s delusions. Not
to mention the fact my poor, mad son was allowed to correspond with
other madmen. The doctors think he’s a raving lunatic now. He’s to
be watched closely at all times, and not allowed to write to anyone
but me.”

It hardly seemed a fair punishment, after
all he’d done. But it was better than nothing.

“It was...good...to see your mother again,”
Father went on in a quieter voice. “She seems healthy. Strong.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Apparently having said all he intended,
Father turned away and made for the stairs. I watched him go. To my
surprise, Griffin lingered at the door onto the balcony, having
approached silently. He and Father nodded to one another as they
passed.

“Are you and Niles all right?” Griffin
asked, once he’d joined me.

“As all right as we can be.” I sighed. “I
don’t think we’ll ever be close, but...I don’t know. Perhaps we
have a second chance to at least do better than we did the first
time.”

Griffin slid his arm around my waist, and we
leaned against one another. “Griffin?” I said softly. “Do you...do
you think I’m human at all?”

He turned to me, both arms loosely around me
now. “Are you asking because of what I saw?”

And because of what I remembered. “Yes.”

“I want to say yes.” His green eyes were
dark as he looked up at me. “Because I know it’s what you want to
hear. But you’ve touched the maelstrom twice now, and Mr.
Quinn...when I found him in Boston and spoke of saving you instead
of Widdershins, he didn’t seem to think there was a
difference.”

I snorted. “And what does Mr. Quinn know?
I’m asking you, not him.”

“Then I’ll ask you a question. After all
we’ve seen, all the beings we’ve encountered...does it really
matter?”

For some reason, his gentle tone made my
heart ache. “Only if it matters to you,” I whispered.

“You
matter to me.” He stretched up on his toes to kiss me. “I love
you. All of you.” He pulled back a little and smiled. “There’s no
one I’d rather face an invasion of monstrous beings from another
dimension beside.”

I shivered and looked again in the direction
of the bridge. “The Restoration. We have to find out more about it.
About what the beacon began. At least we have the Wisborg Codex
now.” Bradley had left it in my old room here in Whyborne House, no
doubt intending to consult it again after his triumphant
return.

Griffin sighed against me. “They’ll come, I
assume. The Masters, that is. Nyarlathotep and the cult has
determined the time is right for them to return and resume their
dominion over the earth.”

“Yes, but when? Tonight? Tomorrow? A year
from now? Ten years? A lifetime?” I shook my head. “We don’t know
how time flows in dimensions Outside our own, or what it means to
creatures like these Masters, or...well. Anything, really, other
than the umbrae and ketoi once rebelled against them.”

The Masters apparently had a hand in
creating the maelstrom. But the maelstrom—Widdershins—wanted to be
more than a tool to be used for their purposes. I didn’t even know
how to begin to explain that part to anyone else. Not even
Griffin.

“At least we’re forewarned.” Griffin’s arms
tightened on me. “I’ll use the Lapidem to contact the Mother of
Shadows. The umbrae need to know the Masters wish to return.”

“And word is already spreading among the
ketoi, thanks to Persephone.” I considered. “I’ll write Reverend
Scarrow. Perhaps the Cabal will be able to help.”

“See? We aren’t without resources. When the
time comes—if it comes—we won’t have to face it alone.” Griffin
smiled up at me. “Just as we didn’t this time.”

My heart felt lighter than it had in a week.
“You’re right, of course. And Father was right—I am brooding.”

Griffin grinned slyly. “Done right, brooding
can be very...intriguing.”

“Hmph. I’m not really the type to brood.” I
stepped away from him, then held out my hand. “I am, however, the
type to waltz, as you well know. Will you dance with me, my
husband?”

His grin bloomed into a tender smile. “Of
course.”

I took him in my arms and we danced together
on the balcony, to the strains of music drifting up from
Christine’s wedding. Tomorrow might bring untold horrors, but for
today, we were alive and together.

And right now, that was the only thing which
really mattered.

If you enjoyed this book, please consider
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Thank you for your support of independent
authors!

Although the 1901 Oldsmobile Curved Dash in
our reality wasn’t available until later in the year, I moved the
timeline up by a few months in the Whyborne & Griffin
universe.

Tremendous thanks to
Sinope, for her help with the
Epic of
Gilgamesh
. Learning a modern day
philologist living in Boston is a fan of W&G remains one of the
highlights of my career.

Hainted

Whyborne &
Griffin:

Widdershins

Threshold

Stormhaven

Necropolis

Bloodlin

Hoarfrost

Maelstrom

Spirits:

Restless Spirits

Dangerous Spirits

SPECTR

Hunter of Demons

Master of Ghouls

Reaper of Souls

Eater of Lives

Destroyer of Worlds

Summoner of Storms

Mocker of Ravens

Short stories:

Heart of the Dragon

After the Fall
(in the
Allegories of the
Tarot
anthology)

Eidolon
(A Whyborne & Griffin short story)

Remnant
, written with KJ Charles (A Whyborne & Griffin / Secret
Casebook of Simon Feximal story)

Carousel
(A Whyborne & Griffin short story) in
the
Another Place in Time
anthology

Jordan L. Hawk grew up in
North Carolina and forgot to ever leave. Childhood tales of
mountain ghosts and mysterious creatures gave her a life-long love
of things that go bump in the night. When she isn’t writing, she
brews her own beer and tries to keep her cats from destroying the
house. Her best-selling Whyborne & Griffin series (beginning
with 
Widdershins
) can be found in print, ebook, and audiobook.

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