Watchtowers : Water Page 11

  “Ya fuckin’ gobshite,” the victim bellowed.

  Keely followed the man’s path, thankful the broad back in garish blue plaid was easy to pursue.

  She lifted her hand to wipe the sweat away from her face. Domnu, it was hot. She reached the cyber VDU link, opened her bag, slid in her access card, and began her research. The most recent news items on Amidurah loaded.

  Her eyes devoured the words on the screen. Nothing indicated where the sorcerer intended to be. “Damn,” she muttered.

  She drew in a deep breath. Ale and body odor overpowered the illegal smoking. She pulled her chip from the terminal and stepped away, striking a solid human body.

  She turned her head to apologize. It was the man from the bar who’d talked about the harbor.

  The man beat her in showing remorse, his speech slurred. “Hello there. I’m sorry to ram ya Ms.” His gaze drifted toward the VDU. “I see you’re looking at innovative people.”

  Keely followed the direction of his glance and watched the last of the information on Amidurah fade away. Her palms turned clammy. She wrinkled her nose to alleviate the stench and failed. She didn’t want to get into a pointless discussion with a stinking drunk regarding the man set on finishing off the coastal areas of the world with tsunamis.

  “I know him, ya know.”

  Keely’s world view tilted. She lifted her eyebrows in what she hoped was an accepting, questioning look, leaned against the VDU, and stared at her latest companion.

  *****

  Zion returned to Kilkee as soon as his energy rebounded. The littered beaches hadn’t been cleared yet, but something was different. He didn’t have the luxury of time to discern just what and headed straight for the damaged stairs.

  Within the Castle, he’d hoped Keely would be waiting for his return. Zion scanned the crown of the cliffs. Not a single soul waited on the top. He sighed, more from disappointment than the sense of loss. She had work to do, and she’d made it clear work came first. Shrugging, he allowed himself a brief moment to mourn the loss of a piece of his heart.

  The stairs were more rickety than Zion remembered them being a few short days ago. The hem of the black jeans he donned on the beach caught on a fastener. Stumbling, he regained his balance and resumed the climb with more care. Broken rungs, a misplaced footing, and he’d be no good to her.

  Keely needed him. Of that fact he was sure. Her failed attempt to handle the water the day before he left proved it. Practice. She had to practice, and he was the only one capable of guiding her through the intricate steps of controlling her powers.

  At the top of the cliffs, the air was fresher. The only dead items he saw were drying uprooted plants. Thank Zeus the bodies of deceased humans and animals were gone.

  Zion strode toward the castle. A fragment of the west wall hung at an unnatural angle. The section was located just about where Keely’s bedroom should have been. His pulse leapt into high gear. What if she were in the room, injured? He broke into a run.

  The only sound he heard was the pounding of his bare feet on the duracrete sidewalk, the slap of his soles an oddity to his ears. The house was unnaturally quiet. If Keely were alive surely there would have been some sort of sound created by power. The house would have to turn a machine on or off to maintain climate control, especially with a wall missing.

  Zion rushed into the house, fueled by anxiety for her well-being. The receiving room was empty. By Zeus, not a stick of her family’s furniture resided in the space. She’d been worried about looters. His heart hammered, crossing the line from worry to fear.

  Dashing from room to room, waiting for doors to slide open, Zion saw much the same. Chairs and tables, paintings from the walls, and even displayed family treasures were all missing. Dark dread crept over his skin like the subtle stroke of a squid approaching its dinner. The feeling immobilized him.

  His feet refused to move further. His mind whirred in confusion. Where could Keely be? The chambers didn’t have the look of random vandalism. The rooms were too neat and nothing appeared broken.

  Like a slow moving Leviathan, Zion finally forced himself from the sun parlor and back into the hall. The movement kicked his adrenaline into gear. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, he shouted. “Keely, can you hear me?”

  He rushed into her bedroom. Here the furniture remained. Had the thieves avoided the upper level as being too difficult to make a clean getaway?

  Clothes lay strewn everywhere. Zion grasped a floral print blouse, held it close, and inhaled her unique scent. He hungered to hold her, stroke the soft skin of her cheek, lose himself in her green eyes.

  Disgusted with his inability to locate her, he tossed the blouse to the bed. An electronic card fell to the floor.

  Zion picked it up and glanced at it. Her identity card. Wherever she was, she didn’t even have access to her money. He slid the card into his pocket and left the room.

  If Keely were in the Castle, there was only one area left to explore. The dungeon. He stormed down the stairs, waved his hand across the front of the electronic door, and stomped down the cold stone steps.

  The floor was dry. Keely had been right about the house attempting to right itself. He dashed to her office. On the floor were pieces of equipment. Zion glanced over the hardware. Nothing seemed to be missing.

  “Keely, where are you?” He leaned against the VDU and jumped when broken sound issued from the unit. Whirs and whistles.

  He slapped his hand against his forehead. “Of course. I’ll ask the dolphins.”

  Zion retraced his frantic steps out of the house to the stairs. Cautiously, he descended, and then ran across the sand to the water, stripping the jeans from his body.

  Cool air caressed his skin. He didn’t want cold. He wanted heat. Keely’s heat, igniting every inch of him. He splashed into the surf, and then dove beneath the wave propelled by irrational fear.

  He called his dolphin charges with his own clicks. They answered with their high-pitched sounds and tonal signals. Bulbous headed gray Rossi’s replied first. The pale gray mammals flanked him.

  “Lotis. Keely is missing.”

  The agitated Rossi flipped his fin as if he were on the surface of the sea.

  “What is it?”

  The varied pitches threatened to engulf his ability to sort the sounds. Thirty area dolphins, ascending and descending, attempted to communicate.

  Zion appreciated their struggle. The gist of their news… they’d seen Keely several times over the past few days and she’d been moving the water.

  He was of two minds. She lived! But, the sensation of his stomach sinking like an anchor didn’t agree. Instinctively he knew Keely manipulating the ocean would alert Amidurah to her location.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her escort, Michael, didn’t set Keely at ease. A drunken fool. He introduced her to the people he sat with and she strained to hear their names over the clamor. Someone bought a round of ales and one was placed in front of her.

  Grasping the mug, she let the condensation pool under her palms. Not overly fond of any sort of alcohol, the thought of room temperature ale didn’t excite her. She looked at her companions. Raucous, they swigged the amber liquid. If she didn’t drink soon, her tea toting would stand out. Keely picked up the cup and took a cautious sip, letting the bitter brew slip down her throat.

  Five others sat at the pseudowood circular table. Keely rounded out the heterogeneous couple count, not that she considered Michael couple material. No one matched Zion.

  Which was why she was here with these stinky, loud people, crouched over the table trying to catch every last word spoken. She wanted to get this Amidurah issue handled, over and done with, finished. If she survived, then she’d be free to go home and work with the limited parameters of a relationship with Zion.

  “Here now, Missy, what’s wrong?”

  The expression on her face must have changed when she thought of the difficulties a liaison with the son of a sea God created. Quickly, Keely
tried to think of a response. She opted for honest emotions. “I lost my family.”

  There were tsks and murmured condolences. A woman across the table from her said what Keely dared not voice. “Some say as it’s the cult of Amidurah.”

  Keely didn’t feign the shock in her voice. “Cult?”

  “Meghan,” her partner supplied. “No man is capable of such a thing.”

  The poor lad was in for a hell of a surprise. Hadn’t Keely felt the same way? The dark haired man’s rebuttal could have easily fallen from her lips a few days ago.

  “All the same, there’s talk.” Meghan’s partner squelched her from saying more by laying a monstrous kiss on her.

  Additional heat rushed to Keely’s face and she turned away.

  Michael stared at her. His blue eyes reflected an intelligence she hadn’t suspected in a drunk. “My lady friend is herself looking for people of innovation.”

  What could she do but nod her head in agreement? At that moment a calm stole over the bar, as if every customer in the place wanted to hear something witty in response. Thankfully, it was a momentary hiccup and the racket returned full force. Keely waited for someone to say something.

  Michael supplied the response. “Our new friend was looking up information on Amidurah. Did you find anything of interest, Miss?”

  Keely shook my head. “Everything on the VDU was old. I’ve heard a few whispers here and there about how he wants to cleanse the planet.” She looked into each face the best she was able in the dim light. No one seemed to register alarm. “I work with oceanography. I think cleaning up the water is a damn fine idea.”

  Across the table, Keely saw the men nod. It was as if she could see the thought process of their minds.

  Meghan’s boyfriend was the first to bolster her statement. “To be sure, the ocean needs it. The shit that’s been put into the sea, why it’s making kelpin’ hard, just when it started to pay. There are a lot of people here about that depend on the economics of the sea.”

  “Aye.” Michael’s other companion added. “And t’would be nice to actually fish again instead eating all they synthesize out of yer kelp, Forbes.”

  They raised their mugs and she joined them. Keely’s glass was still quite full and some of the warm liquid splashed onto the back of her hand. Two of the men drained the last of the contents in their glasses and finished with an audible belch.

  She held her breath and did her best to avoid inhaling the odiferous air. She set her mug down on the table and wiped her palms on her pants. Keely needed to get what information they had and get out before the bar or any of its patrons made her puke.

  Keely didn’t have to wait long. Michael swallowed the last of his ale, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and winked. “The lady and I will be discussin’ innovative people.”

  His comment brought a chorus of bawdy laughter from the men.

  He rose from his seat and she did likewise. The movement allowed her to escape his possessive ploy. His touch chilled her blood. She wouldn’t be straying far from the sidewalk that edged the popular thoroughfare. Keely mustered all the politeness she could. “Thank you for allowing me to join you.”

  There were nods and slurred words of farewell. Finally! She’d be able to chat with Michael where her eardrums didn’t painfully reverberate.

  The man shoved his way through the people occupying the pub. A few clapped him on the shoulder, exchanged a moment of conversation, and then glanced her way.

  She kept silent and renewed her vow to stay in the public eye while she was with him.

  Pushing open the bright red door, Michael stepped back and held it open for her. Fresh air rushed against her face, lifting tendrils of her hair lank with sweat. She reached back and lifted the strands from the nape of her neck. The breeze appreciably cooled her skin.

  Keely scanned the area for a bench. An open place that could be observed yet private enough they could talk. She had to find out what Michael knew about Amidurah.

  The river seemed as good a destination as any. A few small groups of people meandered the narrow sidewalks and stepped around the vehicles half parked on the street. Michael stayed silent by her side. He didn’t appear to be a man of deep thought, yet she recognized the fact that she hadn’t thought him intelligent either.

  When they neared the walkway leading to the grassy bank, Keely decided to broach the subject of “innovative individuals” carefully. “Tell me, Michael, have you inherited the revolutionary spirit of our ancestors?”

  He kept his response low and she struggled to hear his question. “That of the Easter rebellion?”

  Keely nodded. “There are changes afoot. I can feel it in the air.”

  “Missy, you best not be speaking of things you don’t understand.”

  The sidewalk sloped toward the river. The last of the green leafed trees struggled and lost their battle with the encroaching fall. Brilliant oranges, bright yellows, dazzling reds shivered in the branches. A few oak leaves fluttered to the ground and landed among the crisp leaves beneath their hefty limbs. Only Zion’s company would perfect the scene. “It’s not like I’m speaking treason.”

  “Aren’t you now?”

  She shook her head. “It’s time for a change. Ireland, the world for that matter, can’t go on the way it has. We take two steps forward in our quest for reversing the adverse affects of pollution only to turn back our progress with a stupid political decision.”

  Keely paused and looked straight into his eyes. “Politicians always muck things up.”

  He nodded and walked ahead of her. He turned his head from side to side several times as if canvassing the area for something or someone.

  As far as she could see, the river was devoid of vessels, the quay free of other conveyances. The path they walked had few occupants and those were small groups a long distance away.

  Michael turned toward her and she saw a battle raged behind his blue eyes. His grim face was far more serious than the man who’d been a short time ago four sheets to the wind. “There is someone. A powerful man who seeks to redress the wrongs the political elite have inflicted.”

  It took all her acting skills to scoff. “He’s kept under radar if this man even exists.”

  “You were looking up information on him earlier.”

  Keely furrowed her brows and did her best to look like she was remembering what she’d seen. It was a stretch. She allowed the light of recognition to shine from her eyes. “You mean Amidurah?”

  Michael seemed to buy her thespian skills. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod of his head. “Why were you digging up information on him?”

  Keely altered the subject. “Everything on him was a year or more old.”

  He took a step closer and encroached on her space. “But why, Amidurah? You could have researched any other politician.”

  She took a deep breath and readied her response. “I, um, did a search of people fighting the repollution of the ocean.”

  If he heard her hesitation, he didn’t show it. Keely boldly continued. “I need practical answers and changes. My livelihood depends on it.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Lots of my mates depend on the water too. We’re as anxious as you to see it kept in its pristine state. That’s why we listen to him.”

  “How? I didn’t find a thing listing personal appearances or speeches, or even a thesis.” Keely watched him pace.

  Michael held back. He slunk down to the riverbank, paced its length, and then headed back up the walk toward her. Waving his hands back and forth he looked as if he were weighing pros and cons. Sharing the information with her was apparently an internal skirmish.

  Whatever his decision, his severe countenance and steely gaze let her know he’d made a serious decision. She had to tread carefully. Men like Michael, participating in something possibly considered counter to the rules and mores of society, didn’t readily reveal much.

  If Amidurah were suspected of organizing a coup on the world government, he would be
kept under a watchful, distant eye. Intelligence gathering, a covert business for better than a thousand years, was sophisticated and precise.

  Dread mingled with excited anticipation. Keely held her breath, waiting for what he would say.

  “There’s word that Amidurah is payin’ a visit to Shannon.”

  “Shannon?” Keely’s voice squeaked in shock. No acting was necessary. The city was far too close to home. Intuition told her Amidurah was coming to pay a visit to see the damage his tsunami wrought. “Why Shannon?”

  “Seems there was an unexpected casualty among his staff not far from there.”

  She gulped and her palms sweated. Intentionally, she flexed her fingers and kept them open. A breeze off the River Suir whisked the moisture from hands leaving behind a chill. Shit. She was in deep trouble. “A death?”

  Michael nodded. “His Grace isn’t happy either. Rumor is the man was murdered.”

  The news traveled quickly. Going back to County Clare held dangerous prospects. Shannon was large enough to accommodate a powerful man like Amidurah, but not substantial enough to hide her presence. She couldn’t return home either, if what Doubilet told her about Amidurah’s locating abilities proved true.

  Swallowing back the fear that attempted to choke her, Keely thought fast. She ambled up the tree-lined walk toward the quay. “A man staying beneath the spy nets won’t be too public.”

  “Aye. He usually speaks in innocuous places, small warehouses, and the like. He’ll be at the Roscoe warehouse tomorrow night.”

  Finally, the information she’d been waiting for all evening. A bona fide lead to follow. “No wonder he was upset over Doubilet’s demise. A cautious man. I like that.”

  Michael grabbed her by the elbow and tried to turn her around.

  Fuck! She’d screwed up. Michael hadn’t used Doubilet’s name. She scanned Thomas St. looking for an excuse to break away from her escort. A stranger was bent over the handles of her jet bike. She jerked her arm from his, and then shouted. “Hey! Someone’s trying to steal my ride.”