White Fangs (24 page)

"Course I will. We'll both be writing quite a bit from now on, I'd guess."

The boy Jack had first met two years before had become a young man. Hal's face had thinned out, his profile becoming more angular, and he needed a shave. He wore a hat tilted to one side and he had filled out enough that Jack doubted much trouble would come his way in the future. Once upon, Hal had needed Jack's help to keep from getting beaten up in the streets of Dawson, but no more.

They'd spent the previous evening talking over dinner and drinks in a quiet corner of the bar. Word had spread all through the day that the monsters who were the cause of their terror were dead or being run to ground, but people were still nervous and afraid. Folks gave Jack, Sabine, and Hal their space, and so Jack and Sabine had told Hal what had become of Lesya and Ghost, of Callie King and the werewolves.

Hal had listened with rapt attention, as he had when Jack had regaled him with tales of previous journeys. Afterward, as usual, Jack had sworn him to secrecy, but he'd been surprised by Hal's reply.

"I won't breathe a word," Hal had said, with a sly grin. "I plan to tell my own stories from now on. I got a new job, writing for the newspaper."

Jack had cheered him and they had all toasted to Hal's new job and his future success, but it had gotten Jack thinking. He'd been remiss in recent months, not taking nearly enough time to write in his journal, which was foolish because if anyone had ever had a story to tell, it was Jack London. The thing was, he didn't just want to recount his adventures. He wanted people to feel what it was like to be in the wild, or out at sea with a brilliant, savage man like Ghost as master of your fate. There were other things that concerned him as well. He saw the dreary, soulless lives of the people who'd come to Dawson and failed to find gold, and it reminded him of the hoboes and itinerant workers he'd met before his first trip to the north. He knew he wanted to do something for them. They needed someone to speak up on their behalf.

He'd spent the night contemplating all of this — when he wasn't distracted wondering when Sabine would finally tell him what she had learned from Lesya — and now the time for departure had come.

The riverboat blew its whistle again.

"Jack," Hal said. They shook hands, and then embraced, clapping each other on the back. "They're your stories to write, but you should write 'em. People should know about the things you've done and seen. The monsters and the dark things that are out there."

Sabine kissed Hal on the cheek. "Nobody would believe him, Hal. You know that. Ordinary people want ordinary lives. They tell themselves there are no such things as monsters because they need to believe that."

Hal frowned, but nodded. "I guess you're right."

"It's okay, Hal," Jack said. "There's a lot more to what I've learned about the world and about myself than just the monsters. I'll write about those things. And one of these days, after I'm gone, you can write down all of the other stuff."

"Don't talk like that," Hal said. "You'll be around just as long as I will."

A hush fell over them after that, for none of them seemed to believe it. After a few moments Jack gave a nervous laugh.

"Ah, well. Look me up if you ever get down to San Francisco," Jack said, shaking Hal's hand one last time before he and Sabine hefted their packs and started down the dock toward the riverboat.

"You won't be there," Hal said quietly.

Jack arched an eyebrow, looking back. "What's that?"

"You won't be there. You'll never be happy staying in one place, Jack. It's your blessing and your curse." Hal raised his voice to be heard. He wore a sad smile when he said it. "You got something in you that's gonna be restless forever."

Jack tried to think of a reply to that, but could not. After a few more steps he just shrugged.

"Guess so," he said.

Sabine urged him along as the riverboat let out a longer whistle, warning of its imminent departure, and they started to run for it.

Sabine kept her secrets until they were on the open sea.

Jack enjoyed the time he and his love spent together as the steamship made its way back downriver. They talked about their adventures — how they had met, their time on the
Larsen
, Ghost and his fate, and the vampires that had revealed to them the true meaning of evil. Jack spoke of his family, and Sabine could only listen, because she had none. She told him about what the sea meant to her, and he liked to believe that he had some understanding. Her eyes glazed a little when she spoke of the sea — as if she were somewhere else — and he suspected the same happened to him when he spoke of the wild.

They talked about things that had happened in the past, and spent lighter, sweeter moments discussing the present — their feelings for each other, the time they had together on that steamship journey, and speculating on what Louis and Callie, or Ghost, would be doing at that moment.

One thing they never discussed was the future. Jack tried, once, and Sabine turned away and sighed. "Oh, Jack," she said, "can't we just live in the moment for a while?" That said so such more than Jack really wanted to know.

The moment when the present inevitably met the future arrived on their first evening on the open sea, after they had left the river behind and made their way once more to the coast, where they boarded the southbound ship, the
Prospero
. He had been dreading it, though he knew it must come. He shivered as Sabine took his hand and walked him along the deck, and closed his eyes when she turned to him, sadness simmering in hers.

"Jack," she began.

Jack pressed his finger across her lips. "Just a little while longer," he said. She smiled and leaned into him, and together they watched the sun sinking into the sea. The sunset was sublime. It could have been a moment meant for them, though Jack had become certain that it hid a future lacking in something precious to him.

"So tell me," he said, as the last of the sun smeared across the horizon like the sky's spilled blood.

"Lesya told you of her own lineage," Sabine said.

Jack nodded. "That she had a human mother, and that Leshii is her father."

Sabine nodded, her eyes somehow upon him, but also not. It felt to Jack as if she saw through him, into some ancient, primal age he could not imagine — as if she were both here in the present with him and somehow, at the very same time, wandering that primeval world.

"Leshii is even older than I am," she said. "He is precisely what Lesya claimed, a forest spirit. A wood god. In ancient times there were many like him, distant cousins, and as Man began to populate the world, they worshipped such creatures. In Greece they were always female, and called dryads. Though her mother was human, Lesya would be one of these.

"And then she told me of my lineage, Jack. Things I had always . . . felt, or suspected, but could never put a name to. She told me that there are many elemental spirits in the world. She is a forest spirit, and I . . . I am something of the water. A water spirit! Lesya believes I am a Nereid, one of the three thousand daughters of Tethus and Oceanus, who were Titans of myth."

"You're no myth," Jack said. "And, elemental, yes, but you're no spirit, either."

He gathered Sabine in his arms to feel the flesh and blood of her, and she relaxed in his grip, slumping down and letting him take her weight.

"Perhaps not, but that spirit is inside me. It's what drives me! Everything she told me makes sense, and it's like . . . I'm discovering myself again anew. It's why I have always lived near the sea and
for
the sea. I fade when I am taken from water, as you saw when we traveled inland, Jack. Lesya begins to fade when she is taken from the parts of the forest where she has rooted herself. I'm lucky in that respect. There is no one part of the sea, just . . ." She pulled from Jack and looked down again. The sea was giving her comfort, and Jack felt a momentary pang of jealousy.
She needs me, not the ocean!
But he also realized how foolish that idea was. He was just a man, after all.

Sabine turned to stare at him, and Jack caught his breath at the intensity of her expression. She was pinning him there with her glare. She blinked, but he could not look away.

"There are many other spirits," she said. "Some of them Lesya has knowledge of, and a few she claims to know. There are so many more that are probably like me. Haunted, conflicted. Confused. Feeling that there's . . . something more." Sabine smiled, but it was loaded with withheld truths. "I was lucky to find her, and I have you and the others to thanks for that. Those still living, and those who died. She and I are not quite sisters, but we're inextricably linked by history." She paused

"What else?" Jack pressed. "She told you so much more than that, I know."

"Do you, Jack?" she asked. And for the briefest moment her eyes went wide, and she seemed terrified for him. "Do you really know?" she whispered.

"I know you're keeping something from me."

Sabine sighed. "Things not meant for human ears," she said. "But Jack, you have always heard the call of the wild. And that wolf —
your
wolf — chose you."

"You're leaving, aren't you?" he asked.

"I was never meant to exist as an ordinary, human woman," she said. "That's why Lesya revels in what she does, what she is. I have always fought against my nature. I want to be . . ."

"You want to be free," Jack said. He smiled, held her arms, pulled her toward him. He was filled with a sudden sense of overwhelming good cheer, the sort of flush of contentment that leaves as soon as it arrives.
I will see her again
, he thought.
I will always love her. How lucky I have been. How lucky I am
.

Sabine kissed him, and it was the sweetest kiss ever, touched by the dusk and promising so much more. "
Many
spirits," she whispered in his ear, and when Jack blinked he experienced a momentary memory of his wolf, loping through snow and dashing between trees. It could have been an element of his own spirit, given free rein to revel in the wild that he so sought. "And some of them," she said, "live in the hearts of men."

"Sabine?" he asked, blinking. "Do you mean . . . ?"

She shushed him with a finger across his lips. Then she shrugged off her dress and stood naked before him, silencing him with her beauty.

"You're so right, my sweet Jack," she said. "We will meet again." She slipped sideways, and before Jack could reach for her she was over the railing. He caught a shimmer of silver across her legs, glistening with a sheen of oily scales, and then she entered the water without a splash. The sea closed around her, and Sabine was gone.

Jack grabbed the railing and watched, hoping that she would rise for one last goodbye. But there was only the sea.

He stood there until it was fully dark, and then he walked slowly back to his cabin. His emotions were mixed. Sadness hung heavy, but it was countered with a deep, rich love that absence could not touch. He was tired, but knew that he would not sleep.

I'm flesh and blood
, he thought.
Not a spirit
. And as he settled on his cot and took out his heavy journal, readying to put into words all those adventures he had lived and the things he had seen, his final thought was,
Not yet
.

As long as he lived, he would
truly
live.

His journey had only just begun.

- THE END -

CHRISTOPHER GOLDEN is the award-winning,
New York Times
bestselling author of such novels as
Of Saints and Shadows
,
The Myth Hunters
,
The Boys Are Back in Town
, and
Strangewood
. He has also written books for teens and young adults, including
Soulless
,
Poison Ink
, and
The Secret Journeys of Jack London
, co-authored with Tim Lebbon. His current work-in-progress is
Cemetery Girl
, a graphic novel trilogy collaboration with Charlaine Harris.

A lifelong fan of the "team-up," Golden frequently collaborates with other writers on books, comics, and scripts. He has co-written three illustrated novels with Mike Mignola, the first of which,
Baltimore, or, The Steadfast Tin Soldier and the Vampire
, was the launching pad for the Eisner Award-nominated comic book series,
Baltimore
. With Thomas E. Sniegoski, he is the co-author of the book series
Magic Zero
and
The Menagerie
, as well as comic book miniseries such as
Talent
, currently in development as a feature film. With Amber Benson, he co-created the online animated series
Ghosts of Albion
for the BBC.

As an editor, he has worked on the short story anthologies
The New Dead
,
The Monster's Corner
, and
British Invasion
, among others, and has also written and co-written comic books, video games, screenplays, and a network television pilot. Golden was born and raised in Massachusetts, where he still lives with his family. His original novels have been published in more than fourteen languages in countries around the world. Please visit him at
http://www.ChristopherGolden.com
.

CONNECT WITH CHRISTOPHER GOLDEN ONLINE

Official Website

http://www.ChristopherGolden.com

Twitter

http://twitter.com/ChristophGolden

Facebook

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No Rest for the Wicked Blog

http://christophergolden.blogspot.com/

Join the Wicked Street Team

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/wickedstreetteam/

TIM LEBBON is a
New York Times
-bestselling writer from South Wales. He's had almost thirty novels published to date, as well as dozens of novellas and hundreds of short stories. His most recent releases include the bestselling
Into the Void: Dawn of the Jedi (Star Wars)
from Del Rey/Star Wars Books,
Coldbrook
from Arrow/Hammer, and the Toxic City trilogy from Pyr in the USA. Future novels include
The Silence
, and an official Alien tie-in novel
Out of the Shadows
. He has won four British Fantasy Awards, a Bram Stoker Award, and a Scribe Award, and has been a finalist for International Horror Guild, Shirley Jackson, and World Fantasy Awards.

20th Century Fox acquired film rights to
The Secret Journeys of Jack London
series, and he and Golden wrote the first draft of the screenplay. A TV series of his
Toxic City
trilogy is in development with ABC Network in the USA, and he's also working on new screenplays, both solo and in collaboration with Stephen Volk.

Find out more about Tim at his website
http://www.timlebbon.net
.

CONNECT WITH TIM LEBBON ONLINE

Official Website

http://www.timlebbon.net

Twitter

https://twitter.com/timlebbon

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/tim.lebbon

WANT MORE

CHRISTOPHER GOLDEN AND TIM LEBBON?

VISIT THEM AT:

http://www.ChristopherGolden.com

http://www.timlebbon.net