Fire Read online

  Keep telling yourself that, Kaitlyn.

  I stroked the silky fuzz on her head with my palm. One of her hands rested on top of my breast. I bent down to kiss it. "It doesn’t matter who your daddy is baby, I wouldn’t love you any less."

  Ah, finally – those motherly instincts kicking in. The baby fell asleep again. "Been in this world for only a few hours and asleep for most of it. You aren’t going to make a name for yourself at this pace."

  A name. The thought hit me like a ton of bricks. No rush. Not like there was a birth certificate to complete. "I can’t keep calling you baby."

  "Babe. Bee. Miss B," I shrugged.

  She flailed.

  "Sorry Miss B." I smiled.

  It would do for now. It felt weird putting a label to her without someone else’s input. A name defined you; it stuck with you the rest of your life. I didn’t want that sole responsibility. I miss mom.

  An unexpected lump sprung up in my throat. I kissed my daughter on the forehead. "She would've loved whatever I come up with. She would've loved you."

  I slowly got up, careful not to disturb Bee again, and laid her in the bassinette. Slowly, and still in the dark, I stretched out my sore muscles. I was sticky everywhere, and I stank. I was going to have to walk eventually. One step at a time. My legs shook, and fresh fluid gushed down. "Ew," I crinkled my nose.

  I was suddenly very glad Micah wasn’t here. He’d never want to make love to me again. I walked over to the ship's instruments; they told me we were closing in on Australia. I scanned the horizon for lights; nothing yet. Probably for the best, I couldn’t very well pull into port like this. I shut down the engines, and waited until the boat ceased moving forward.

  I looked at the baby sleeping peacefully in her bassinette. Can I leave you there while I run for a quick shower? Well, it wasn’t like she would crawl off anywhere.

  I hobbled to the door, started to descend the stairs, then paused and looked back at her.

  "Nope. Can’t do it." I sighed, picked up the bassinette, and brought us both below.

  I flipped on lights as I made my way to the on-board bathroom, appreciating the pristine halls and rooms. Shawn knew how to take care of a boat.

  He is going to be so pissed when he sees the captain’s bridge. I smiled to myself.

  In the bathroom, I had plenty of room to maneuver. I set the bassinette down on the floor, and ran the shower. I barely waited until it heated to get in. Salt water, boat debris, and blood washed off in droves, rinsing down the drain. Good riddance. I looked around the shower. Plenty of soap and shampoo, but no conditioner. My hair would have to suffer in knots, but at least they would be clean knots.

  By the end of my shower, sleeping beauty was awake. I prepared a makeshift bath out of the sink and scrubbed the rest of her grime away. She cried, despite my cooing. I worked quickly, finishing in what had to be record time. Bundling her back up, we went to the medical room. It was still prepped and ready for my labor. Shawn didn’t anticipate I’d be driving the boat. I didn’t anticipate being here at all.

  I searched for more blankets, pads for me, and even found a simple t-shirt and sweat pants. I glanced at the stacks of formula and bottles, then down at the baby. "Nah. We don’t need those. I can do this a little longer." The least I could do was give her what immunities my milk had to offer, being as how she would have no injections. I sat down, put her to my breast, and fed her once again, switching sides after five minutes. I still had no idea if anything was coming out and still felt the contractions. My entire body was beginning to feel the pain of the birth. At the very least I was going to need painkillers.

  She detached and started crying, again.

  I looked at her. "Oh, please. It couldn’t have been nearly as painful for you."

  Miss B. was, however, going to need diapers. I found the drawer containing those and began my ministrations. Cream and baby powder; I used them both, not knowing if she really needed either one. I treated the stump of her umbilical cord with gauze and medical tape, and toweled off her wet hair. A clean, white onesie, and she began to look more like a baby and less like an angry, wrinkled old woman.

  I looked at the clock on the wall. A little after midnight. I could time my entrance into the port for three or four in the morning. Perhaps there would be no one there, and we could just slip in, unnoticed.

  The baby calmed and busied herself with jerking her limbs around. I looked down at my clothes. "Can’t spend the next few weeks in these."

  With Miss B. in tow, I began searching the cabins on the boat. Surely one of the men had to be close to being as short as me. I opened the door to the fourth room, and nearly let it slam shut again in surprise. The smell of lilies drifted out; same as my mother’s perfume. A flowery quilt covered the bed with matching pillows. There was also a dresser, a crib, and a changing table. I checked underneath the bedside table. A breast pump kit. The dresser drawers had plenty of clothes. My size, but loose–fitting. So he had intended for us both to survive, and furthermore, stay together. At least for the boat ride. After that, who knew?

  I found a duffel bag in another room and began packing. Several changes of clothes for me and baby, diapers, and wipes. No breast pump. I didn’t intend on leaving her, ever. I laid her in the crib, and she had fallen asleep again while I packed. I felt bold enough to leave her to retrieve painkillers from the medical room, and then a quick trip to the bathroom.

  I kept the bag as light as possible. I’d have to carry it and a baby. All not twelve hours from giving birth.

  A woman’s work is never done. I sighed.

  Miss B. and I went back up to the captain's bridge. The lights in the room no longer worked, for which I was grateful. I really didn’t want to see the mess I left behind. Besides, all of the instruments were backlit. I turned the engines back on, and set the bearings for Perth.

  In her bassinette by my feet, I saw the baby looking up at me. I couldn’t ignore her; it would be rude. Light from the moon streamed in through the broken windows. I bent down and picked her up, looking straight into her eyes. Her bright blue eyes. Shawn’s baby, then.

  My stomach dropped, but my conscience soared. I no longer had to feel guilty about taking the baby away from her daddy. After all, her daddy was insane. Now, I only had to worry that she might grow up to be just as insane. Hopefully, I could nurture the insanity right out of her nature.

  Chapter 3

  Truce

  Micah pulled himself up the last few feet of rope as help from the top stopped.

  What is Alex doing up there? Micah crested the top of the deep cavern. A hand appeared; it was strong, firm, and familiar. It yanked back, pulling the rest of Micah’s tired body over. He pushed himself to standing, and looked up, right into Shawn’s bright blue eyes.

  Micah did a double take, nearly falling back into the hole. Alex was still at the rope, apparently confused into inaction. The very man they had just been battling, had tried to kill, was standing before them, helping them, and looking just as worse for the wear.

  Micah reached for his gun, but it was no longer there. Alex had apparently done the same, giving Micah a sympathetic ‘been there, done that’ grimace. The Air Elementals had blown both of their weapons away under Shawn's command.

  "Where’s Kaitlyn?" Micah searched quickly, her absence suddenly very noticeable among the maelstrom of male ego.

  "Gone," Shawn replied. One hand pressed over the knife wound in his side. A fresh bout of blood seeped through after helping Micah up.

  "What did you do to her?" Micah lunged, fatigue momentarily forgotten. They were both on the ground before Shawn had a chance to answer, wrestling about as effectively as four-year-olds.

  Alex pulled his adoptive brothers apart. "Micah – he didn’t do anything to her. She was with me, and then just disappeared while I was pulling you up. She left on her own!"

  Alex took an inadvertent kick to his stomach. "Damn it, stop!" He yanked first Micah, then Shawn to their feet, and watched
them double over, breathing hard.

  With no magical abilities whatsoever, Alex spent most of the battle squeezing a trigger. Fat lot of good that did him now; the enemy was still standing right before him, playing WWF with Micah.

  Shawn straightened first. "Can’t you feel her? She’s headed east. Fast. Probably took my boat."

  Micah closed his eyes and concentrated. "Yes, actually I can." He opened, then narrowed, his eyes at Shawn. "I’ve never been able to do that before."

  Shawn lifted up his shirt to inspect his wound. "It’s this place. Same as the Galapagos and a few others I’ve found. Gives us stronger powers – some abilities we wouldn’t have at all elsewhere."

  All three of them turned east, looking at the storm in the sky that most likely followed her. Their main reason for being there, for all three of them, was gone. They turned back to face the battlefield. Bodies were everywhere, some dead, some perhaps just unconscious, and several moving around, slowly, calling for help with their various injuries. Guards and Elementals both, all humbled by pain whether they had magic in them or not.

  Most of the guns, and probably more bodies, had disappeared when the ground began opening up to the caves underneath. Still more were washed away, out to sea with Susan's tidal wave. But there, in the middle of the aftermath, lay Cato's still body.

  "Was he really my birth father?" Shawn asked quietly.

  "Yes," said Alex. "We found the paperwork in a safe at the Chakra."

  "Could have been faked," Shawn suggested.

  "There were pictures," Alex said.

  There would have been no need for Cato to fake pictures. Shawn knew that.

  "She’s eight months pregnant; I need to get her back." Micah turned back to the east.

  "It could be my kid," Shawn responded.

  "Regardless, I’ll be raising it." Micah moved toward the coast, preparing to beat Shawn to her.

  Alex put a hand on Micah's shoulder. "Just wait a minute, Micah. He has something we don’t."

  "What?" Micah turned to face them.

  Shawn reached behind him and pulled his Athame out of his back pocket. "This." The sharp edge caught the sun, sending flashes of light across Micah’s face.

  Micah reached for it, Shawn pulled it back, but it was Alex who stopped them both. "Don’t touch it, Micah. We don’t know what it might do to us."

  Shawn re-sheathed the knife before anyone else felt brave. "Maybe I didn’t realize what it could do before, but I know now. There are more than a hundred souls in here…"

  "It wasn’t their souls; more like their essences," said Alex. "They call themselves Shades."

  Shawn sent a sideways glance to Alex then resumed lecturing Micah, "Ok, the Shades spent significant time with Kaitlyn. Maybe they helped her plan the escape."

  Micah matched Shawn’s bitter tone, "I doubt she planned this. We had a life together. She wouldn’t have run away unless something spooked her. Like you."

  "Whatever the case may be, truce until we find her?" Shawn stuck out his hand toward Micah.

  Micah looked at Alex, who nodded his encouragement.

  Micah narrowed his eyes, then looked back at Shawn, and took his hand, shaking it. "Truce?" Micah slapped a pair of handcuffs on Shawn's wrist.

  Shawn's smile faded.

  "Hardly," Micah said.

  Chapter 4

  Clues

  "The boat must’ve come in overnight. We don’t keep a twenty-four hour watch, here. Port authority says no nighttime boating." The port master in Perth, Australia eyed the three men standing before him. They were dirty, beat up, and probably had a hand in whatever happened on that ill-fated ship.

  "Was there a woman on it? You’d know her, she was eight months pregnant." Micah's hands gripped the small counter separating them, ready to tear it down to get his answers. After locking Shawn up below deck on the boat Susan brought around, Micah spent the entire ride to Perth in Kaitlyn's room below deck. It still smelled of her, honey and clovers.

  Shawn shifted on his feet, adjusting the pullover Micah threw over his hands to hide the handcuffs.

  "No one was on it," the port master said, his Australian accent thick. "Captain’s bridge was a right mess, though. Blood everywhere."

  Micah’s face went white, and all three of them turned to look closer at the boat, rocking on the waves next to the pier. Squinting, they could just make out the jagged edge of broken windows.

  Micah left the service desk first, bursting out through the rickety door, knocking it off its hinges. He charged down the length of the pier. Shawn followed.

  The port master yelled after them, "Just a minute – you! Police said no one on that boat until the forensics team can get here!"

  Alex stopped to intercept the port master. "Oh, sorry about the door. We'll leave behind a few notes to fix it, plus some extra, if you know what I mean?"

  Micah entered the captain's bridge, burying his nose and mouth in the crook of his elbow. He spun at a noise behind him. Shawn followed him up, out of breath. "Running with handcuffs sucks…" he trailed off as his eyes went wide at the mess. "Oh God, the smell." He buried his nose in the crook of his arm.

  "What happened?" Micah grabbed Shawn by the collar of his shirt, ripping part of it, manhandling him back into the only cabinets still standing. They slid on the bloody floor.

  "I don’t know, man! I wasn’t here, remember?" Shawn glared at Micah.

  "Who else was on the boat?"

  "All of my guys were in the valley." Shawn pushed Micah back hard, in the chest. "We needed everyone."

  Micah's fist tightened. "A fight that you lost. Would’ve been better if she had someone." He took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. Pummeling Shawn would do them no good now. Kaitlyn was close, they just needed a clue as to where she went next.

  Micah looked around him. Not a window was left intact. All the buckboards were blown to bits, the distinct smell of burned wood left behind. White foam coagulated over much of the mess. The used fire extinguisher lay on the floor. Then there was the blood. So much of it. And the mattress, and the…bassinette. A small dent, about the size of a baby, had been formed in the blankets.

  Shawn stated the obvious, "She already had the baby."

  Micah darted out of the captain's bridge, down the ladder well, and below deck. Much of the supplies were used or missing out of the medical room. Shawn quickened his pace down the passageway, to the room he had prepared for Kaitlyn and the baby. He half expected to find her there, sleeping.

  It was empty.

  Micah’s form darkened the hatch. "Do you think they both survived?"

  Shawn looked at him, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Kaitlyn can survive anything. The baby – I'm not so sure."

  Micah swallowed hard, comparing Shawn’s boat to the small cottage he had on Reunion Island. Both meant for Kaitlyn; both abandoned by her.

  An inspection of the entire boat left no clues as to where she went. They debarked to look at the ropes tied off on the pier. They weren't expert knots, hastily done almost. She had made it here – on her own, driving a boat through a storm, while giving birth.

  "God damn, son of bitch woman," Micah mumbled.

  Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Pet name?"

  Behind Shawn, the name of the boat rocked on the waves in large, black cursive letters.

  Princess.

  Rage bubbled up, and Micah could no longer contain himself. He reared back his fist, then swung. He connected with Shawn's jaw. There was a satisfying crunch, then a splash. Micah smiled, turned, and walked away.

  Seconds later, Shawn's head popped above water, gasping for air. Behind him, the large boat drifted forward and knocked him in the head, hard. He looked up at the name of his boat and sighed. He dog paddled toward the ladder at the pier. Shawn pulled his sopping wet body out of the water and followed Micah down the length of the pier, grumbling about swimming with handcuffs.

  "Anything?" Alex asked as they regrouped.

  Micah shook his he
ad.

  "She had the baby," Shawn said.

  Alex's mouth dropped open. "A month early?"

  Micah nodded. "Ok, so you just had a baby. You’re in pain, probably worried about the baby, and scared. Where would you go? If you could even walk—"

  "Research," Alex nodded across the street to an internet café.

  Shawn and Micah both snorted at his response.

  "What?" Alex defended himself, "It's what I would do. Figure out my next steps."

  "No," said Shawn. "Hospital."

  Micah made the decision, "Let’s split up. Alex, check out the café. I'll go with Shawn to the hospital; then we'll check the banks."

  Shawn looked at Micah. "You're finally realizing she planned this all along, aren't you?"

  "Just come on." Micah pulled at Shawn's arm.

  "I need dry clothes," Shawn said.

  "I'm not worried about your clothes," Micah’s grip on him tightened.

  An hour later, Micah and Shawn walked into the internet café. Alex didn’t move from where he was, hunched over a computer.

  "Find anything?" Micah asked Alex.

  "Waitress over there said a woman with a small baby came in this morning. She was walking very slow. No stroller. Got something to eat, used the internet for a few minutes, left."

  "This computer?"

  Alex nodded. "Been trying to hack the files. The history automatically erases after each new user."

  All three hunched over the computer until someone clearing their throat interrupted.

  "Can I get you blokes anything?" The waitress craned her neck around Alex’s head to see the screen. "Hey, I don’t think that –"

  "Why don’t you tell me the specials, honey?" Micah put his arm around her shoulder, turning her away from the computer, looking her straight in the eye. Very few girls held up against those green eyes.

  Shawn sat at another computer.

  On his own computer, Alex feigned typing, peaking at Shawn’s screen.

  He fooled no one.