Secondhand Charm Read online

  Something small and dark washed ashore at my feet. I picked it up.

  Aidan’s hat. I put it on.

  Gradually the sea grew calm. The rain changed from a pelting torrent to a gentle shower. Survivors washed ashore like falling leaves blowing against a fence. My body warmed itself as I moved about to help, but my heart was elsewhere. All the while I searched for the serpent. Could I have imagined it? Had I washed ashore like the rest of these?

  Yet I clung to the serpent in hopes it would bring Aidan. There were so many survivors! Could the creature have played a part? And if they lived, could I still hope?

  The three-legged cat appeared, wet and miserable, its claws sunk into a piece of decking. The trim woman appeared, and soon after her the monkey tamer, with the cold wet monkey clinging pitiably to his neck. The two of them quickly left the rest of us and headed inland.

  The rain ceased, and the winds that had blown the storm in so suddenly blew it away. Stars poked through the thinning clouds, and the moon painted a stripe of light across the water. Survivors from the shipwreck gathered wood and planking that had washed ashore and stacked it into a fire mound, and a crew of them argued about how to light wet tinder. I wished they’d hurry and figure it out. We all needed warmth, and fire would act as a beacon to anyone who might, by enormous luck, still be alive in the water.

  Luck. Foolish girl, to believe in luck. I trained all my thoughts on Aidan, alive, smiling, walking the path that led from his house to ours. If thinking of someone could keep him alive, he’d come walking over the water to me.

  The faintest hint of a sunrise began to lighten the sky behind me, where now the hills of Pylander came into view. The long night was nearly over. Any hope now must be utterly vain.

  Mistress.

  I jumped up, trying to understand which way the inner voice was beckoning.

  Mistress!

  He was all the way down at the end of the beach. Close by, an orange glow illuminated the center of the bonfire. Good. That would divert attention. I picked my way over the rocks toward the serpent, hoping no one would take special notice of me. It was hard not to hurry.

  I found the serpent uncoiling himself behind a large rock. It deposited Aidan at my feet, then backed away, its head held low.

  One look at him confirmed my fears.

  Chapter 19

  Salt water could never sting my eyes as much as this sight.

  I wanted to scream, to cry, to fall apart.

  But that was not my way. Not the physician’s way. And it would never help Aidan.

  I sank onto the sand next to him and placed my head over his heart. There was nothing. No sound, no movement.

  Or was there?

  I tipped him onto his belly. It wasn’t easy. Water poured out as from a cup, but not enough to make a difference. He was so wet, so cold, so pale and bruised in the predawn light.

  I slapped his cheeks. I struggled to elevate his waist as best I could, thinking perhaps the slope would make water gush from his lungs and then he would wake. I applied pressure to his abdomen. It made no difference. Not the faintest flicker of life animated his cold body.

  The sky grew gradually brighter, but that made me see Aidan’s still form more clearly. The schoolgirl in me wondered what other survivors would think when they looked along the beach and saw a thirty-foot sea serpent. I cared little for the schoolgirl or her thoughts now.

  So cold, so cold and still, Aidan, my friend, my neighbor, and now, my heart. If you were warm, would your eyes smile at me?

  I lay down beside him, tucking my body close to his. Perhaps there was some warmth in me that I could share with him. My gaze stretched out over the sea, and I thought of his mother, short, fiery Widow Moreau, who ruled Maundley with her tongue. How would I tell her this news, that her only son had met the same watery end as her husband?

  Pink lights on the water showed the sun had cleared the hills behind me. The serpent’s long body wound back and forth slowly in the shallows. Only its horned head rose above the water, its jade eyes watching me.

  Gradually I became aware of something happening to the beast. It stiffened itself straight as a pole, and, in a series of short pulses, it ratcheted itself smaller and smaller before my eyes. At first I doubted what I saw. Its eyes shut tight in concentration as its great body compressed itself down, down, till it was only the size of a great snake, and then a smaller and smaller one. The horns were mere nubs, the eyes, little more than green glass beads, and the silver white scales, so infinitely small his pelt looked as soft as hart’s leather.

  He sliced through the shallow water until he slipped over the sand, finally sliding up over my arm and shoulder. He was no bigger around than the base of my thumb, and yet he was somehow more fearsome to me now. As he touched my skin, my worries faded. He rubbed his head under my chin, tickling my neck with his horns, then slithered from me to Aidan.

  I sat up to watch. It didn’t feel right, the beast on Aidan’s dead body, yet it was thanks to him that the body was even here.

  You are fond of this one, Mistress.

  I nodded.

  More fond than of me.

  He slid down the length of Aidan’s body to his feet, which the sea had robbed of his shoes. The serpent opened his mouth wide, and two curved fangs glistened in the morning light.

  “No!”

  But I was too late to stop it. It sunk its great teeth into the arch of Aidan’s foot.

  Disgust and loathing overwhelmed me. This foul beast, desecrating my friend’s body! I clawed my way to Aidan’s feet and yanked the serpent from behind its jaws, my other hand finding a rock with which to smash its head if it tried to bite me.

  It turned its dagger-bright head to face me, a drop of Aidan’s blood wetting its white lips.

  I’d better finish it now, before it resumed its fearsome size and finished me. I raised the rock high overhead. The serpent cringed low in the sand.

  A warning, Mistress.

  I paused.

  What you do to me, you do to yourself.

  The rock grew heavy in my hand.

  “Explain.”

  First, let me go.

  I hesitated before relinquishing my grip on its neck, and kept my rock at the ready.

  It slunk away from me some distance in the sand and coiled itself into a protective cone.

  Do you know nothing of what you are? What I am?

  I didn’t feel I knew anything at all anymore.

  Didn’t your mother ever teach you? You must have seen her leviathan.

  “Her what?”

  Like me. Her leviathan.

  And suddenly I remembered, from my very own recitation at Saint Bronwyn’s feast, a lifetime ago, a scripture verse:

  “In that day the LORD with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, even leviathan that crooked serpent; and he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea.”

  Leviathan.

  Oh, love of heaven, what evil thing did I now behold?

  Did your mother never tell you? the thing persisted in asking.

  “I never knew my mother,” I said, “and I don’t see what you could know about her.”

  I know what she was, the creature said. But none of us knows what became of her. She was lost, she and her leviathan. He never returned to the sea to die.

  “She died having me,” I said. “She never rose from her birthing bed. My grandfather told me. He is my father’s father, and he knows.”

  The serpent cocked its head to one side, its glance penetrating. For a long time it said nothing, but seemed to be weighing my words, and weighing me, too—as if, finding me after such a long anticipated wait, it now felt disappointed.

  “I don’t understand anything,” I said, my voice rising. “I don’t know what you are, or why you’re here, or what you want.” My breath caught in my throat. “I don’t even believe in things like you, and I think it’s horrid of you to pretend you know something about my mother, or me. Y
ou must be mistaken. And I don’t care what you say. I won’t let you harm my friend.”

  The serpent’s head slid down along the sand toward me, its sinuous body following. It slithered in circles around where I knelt, round and round, like the marchers around Jericho.

  I hatched the moment you were born, it said, with your scent in my nostrils, your feelings etched into my own. I cannot be mistaken about that. For the rest of your days, Mistress, I will be with you, to protect and help you. From now on we can never be far apart for long, and when either of us meets our end, the other will, in moments, follow.

  My stone fell into the sand. If this was true … my mouth went dry with the realization of what I’d nearly done. But I was far from ready to make peace with this thing, this reptile that had been thrust upon me. Not after the spiteful thing it had done to Aidan’s body.

  “If you must be with me forevermore,” I said, “then let that be the case. But you must never, ever hurt my friends. You were jealous of him! What you did to Aidan is cruel.”

  It stopped circling around me and looked up at me.

  How can I hurt one who is already dead?

  “Then you mustn’t molest his body, either.” I began to cry. Misery, loss, cold, thirst, and now this. “It’s vicious of you!”

  I have waited so long for you, the leviathan whispered, yet you don’t know me at all.

  Without looking back, it slithered into the waves and disappeared under the water.

  Go, then, I thought, and quickly. I was glad to be rid of it. Later there would be decisions to make, messages to send, but now I only wanted to sit and grieve.

  Morning sun warmed my back as I watched the little streak of rippling white snake skim over the surf and reassume its monstrous size, then dive deep under the water. I buried my face in my hands and gave in to the tears I’d bottled all through this cold, bitter night.

  And in the racking of my sobs, at first I didn’t hear it when, behind me, Aidan coughed.

  Chapter 20

  I whirled around, afraid of being wrong, but there he was, hacking and gagging on the seawater that was rapidly leaving him. I scrubbed my face with my skirt to wipe away the crying. Air entered Aidan’s lungs, and joy made me laugh out loud.

  His coughing ceased, and he ventured to speak. “Jehoshaphat, Evie,” he croaked. “I could have died!” He wiped his mouth on his wet sleeve. “What’re you smiling at?”

  Color flooded back into his face. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and surveyed the scene.

  “How’d I get here?” he said. “How’d it get to be morning?”

  His voice was still weak. Trying not to attract his attention, I inched myself nearer to his feet to see where the serpent bit him. I couldn’t spot a blemish on either foot.

  “Let’s get you over to the fire the others built,” I said. “You need heat.”

  I helped hoist him up onto his feet, and we walked slowly across the beach to where the bonfire blazed. The others there made space for him without comment. The ring of people around the fire was deep, filled with sober-faced sailors and ship’s passengers. What a sorry-looking, bedraggled lot we were.

  “How many missing?” I asked Freddie Bell.

  He rubbed his forehead with his wrist. “That’s the odd thing, miss,” he said. “Everybody’s accounted for, besides them two that left.”

  “Meaning, you’ve found the bodies?”

  He gestured toward the beach. “You see any bodies, miss?”

  I followed his pointing hand. No, I didn’t see any bodies. Not one.

  “Got at least a dozen people here swearing they had died, and came back,” he said. “Some say something in the water rescued ’em. A big fish, or nearly.”

  I gazed into the flames. Around me the ring of bedraggled survivors buzzed with conversation. Even children traveling with their guardians had survived the storm.

  “When that ship hit the rock, our prospects were grim,” the captain proclaimed. “What we’ve witnessed is nothing less than a miracle.”

  “But what about the beast?” asked a woman. “If there really is such an ungodly beast as you say, send the harpoons after it. These shores aren’t safe with such a creature in the waters.”

  “You have an odd notion of safety, madam,” the captain said. “If what people say is true, without the beast few of us would be alive now.”

  Shouts rang out from over the bluffs. A pair of fishermen appeared over the headlands and hollered down to our party. Several survivors ran to learn how far we were from help. They followed the fishermen back to their village to petition for assistance.

  I retreated from the ring of survivors and pretended to gather more driftwood. When I was sure no one was watching me, I ran back to the jagged rocks. I’d just begun to feel dry, nevertheless I plunged into the waves until I was thigh deep in the water.

  I wanted to call to my leviathan, but I didn’t know how, nor what name to use, nor how I could begin to repent of my blindness.

  “Leviathan?” I whispered. “Beast?”

  Small waves lapped against me, yet I was so worn and weak that they nearly toppled me.

  I treaded deeper in until my waist was submerged, my whole body shuddering with cold.

  “Le-vi-a-than,” I sang softly, bending my mouth low over the water. “Please come.”

  I pressed farther on till only my shoulders cleared the water, and only then if I stood on tiptoe. Waves crashed over my head, and I held my breath to meet them.

  “ ’Ere! Miss! Don’t do that!” a voice bellowed from across the beach. “She’s gone mad! Trying to go back and finish her death. Somebody stop her!”

  “No, don’t!” I cried. But a pack of men broke away from the fire and raced toward me. I panicked, and flung myself forward.

  Now I couldn’t touch bottom. I had one breath left. I used it to send my thoughts out into the deep. Please, leviathan, forgive me, I said. Please pardon my foolishness. Thank you so much for saving them. For saving Aidan.

  Hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me from the water. They hefted and handed me ashore like a barrel of molasses and set me down on the sand.

  “What in the name of Pete were you thinking, girl?” a harsh voice shouted in my ear.

  “Go easy on the child,” said another, older voice. “She was one of the first ones, running around helping everyone else. She’s worn out.”

  I heard their bickering as if from miles away. I’d failed to send my message. Then a familiar voice spoke in my ear.

  “Why’d you do that, Evie?” Aidan’s voice full of concern. “Are you all right? What’s happened to you?”

  I made no attempt to speak. In a moment I realized no one else was speaking, either. A silence had fallen over the entire beach. Even the water had fallen still.

  I looked up.

  Morning sunlight glistened pink and green on his silvery scales. He rose from the waves like a tower, arching over where I lay. His great head, horned and whiskered, looked regal in the sunlight as he took in the sight of all those he’d rescued in the night, and saw the terror in their eyes. The men who had grabbed me fell back, cringing.

  If you wish to call me, Mistress, he said, it helps if you give me a name.

  A man pulled a pistol from his belt and aimed it at his beautiful head.

  “Are you mad?” I cried. “He saved us all!”

  The man pulled the trigger. The wet powder wouldn’t spark, and he threw down his pistol. Others ventured forward with knives, but none gathered the courage to come too near.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered to my leviathan, hoping no one would take notice, hoping he could hear. “Please, please forgive me.”

  He nodded his head toward me.

  “She’s in some sort of league with it,” a lady cried.

  “That’s nonsense,” Aidan said.

  I attempted another whisper. “You must go now,” I said. “They want to hurt you.”

  I won’t leave you. If I go, they will turn their
hatred for me toward you.

  “I’ll be all right,” I said. “Come back to me in your smaller size. I’ll wait for you here. Can you hide under my clothes?”

  Yes.

  “She’s talking to the beast! Like a witch to her familiar!”

  “Then meet me behind the rock. Now, go.”

  He reared his head high in the sky before sliding back into the water and out of sight. This gave the men with drawn weapons a jolt of bravery, and they charged into the water, brandishing their blades with battle cries, to no avail. My leviathan was long gone.

  They turned to leave, casting dark glances my way.

  I went to stand next to Aidan, not wishing to be alone, but as I did he edged away, just slightly, becoming just stiff enough to show a new gulf had sprung up between us. I reached for my neck, to squeeze some drops of comfort from the charms I wore. But the snakebite charm was given away, and now the love charm was gone too. It must have come off in the sea. All that remained, perverse though it seemed, was luck.

  Up on the headlands wagons began rolling in, and people hurried to be the first to be rescued. I heard complaints about luggage and cargo lost when the ship went down. People snatched from death, and worried about their Sunday boots!

  Aidan went to investigate. I sat on a rock. Something touched my hand. My leviathan, small again, encircled my wrist like a bracelet and wended his way up my arm. He tickled.

  Aidan returned to where I sat. “Evie, let’s go,” he said. “They’ll take us to Chalcedon.”

  I trudged up the slope toward the wagons, watching closely for any sign in his face of his feelings for me. Were there any to see? I despised myself for wanting to know. Had the thought of death alone made him kiss me? Might he have kissed another girl as readily, if he thought it was the last thing he’d do?

  Even so, no matter what, I would always remember the holy joy of him waking up from death. Kisses, false or otherwise, couldn’t take that from me.

  He helped me climb into the wagon, but no sooner did I come into sight of the other passengers than they ceased talking and looked at me as if I were a leper. Some rose to leave.