Secrets of the Deep (73 page)

By the time he had climbed out of the water that afternoon and walked up the beach in a daze at what he’d heard, he knew he would’ve fought any number of locker lords, destroyed half a dozen Atlantean orbs, and helped whole schools of mermaids in distress in exchange for the secret Fionnula had finally revealed.

The last time he had seen her, she had been trying to escape after Red and he had wrecked her plans. What she had said that night in the ballroom when Jake had cornered her had always seemed like nothing but a cruel lie meant to shock and distract him so she could get away–and it had worked.

But the tantalizing hint she had dropped had given him no peace ever since. Her words had gnawed continuously at the back of his mind.

“Your parents are alive,”
she had taunted.

At last, over a year later, she had been forced to explain her cryptic claim.

“To the ordinary world—the humans’ little constables and detectives,” she had said in the chilly green gloom of her cell, “it looked like an ordinary murder, motivated by revenge. Yes”–she rolled her eyes—“I cast a glamour over Waldrick to disguise him as that pitiful baronet, Sir George, who ended up being hanged for the crime. That’s true. But how could I refuse your charming uncle anything, after all his kindnesses to me?

“Waldrick took me in and protected me when I was a fugitive, banished from this miserable kingdom. So, naturally,” she continued, “when he asked me to help him kill his brother—and you—it seemed a reasonable request. I was happy to oblige, knowing how much it would mean to him. All he really wanted was his turn to be the earl.”

Jake shook his head in disgust.

“But then”—her simpering tone sobered—“your uncle confided in me that your parents were Lightriders. And that changed everything.”

“How?” Jake demanded.

“Well, from there, things became considerably more complex.” Fionnula sighed. “My poor, dear, stupid Waldrick. So trusting. I didn’t see fit to tell him of the change in my plans,” she added. “He’d be none the wiser, after all. I saw no reason why we both couldn’t get what we wanted.”

“What was in it for you?”

“Aside from the use of the gryphon feathers restoring me to my former magnificence? Why, an alliance of sorts—just in case I ever needed more serious help on land than my darling Waldrick could provide.”

“What do you mean by—” Jake started, but she flicked her fingers to shush him, determined to tell the tale in her own way.

He shut his mouth.

“Waldrick got the pleasure of gunning down your parents and becoming the earl, as he’d so long dreamed. Disguised by my magic as Sir George, he got away with it scot-free, too—at least, until you came along.”

“Well, I hope you’re happy to hear that your actions ruined your hero’s life along with mine,” Jake said angrily. “Because right now, Uncle Waldrick is imprisoned in a tower in the middle of dragon country, and if he ever tries to escape, he’ll no doubt be eaten by the local wildlife.”

“Humph! I already knew that, of course,” she huffed. “But
perhaps
his sentence might’ve been a little lighter if anyone had ever bothered asking me about the
bullets
that we used.”

“What? What about them?”

She just sat there gloating, savoring the small measure of power the knowledge gave her.

“Explain yourself!” Jake ordered.

“First, tell me this, boy. Did you really blow up Davy Jones?”

“Yes,” Jake snapped, impatient to hear the rest, but she started laughing.

“That is so amusing! We had some good times, Davy and I,” she purred. “I do love a bad boy!”

“Oh, blech.” Jake grimaced. She really had no shame, the hussy.

“Don’t worry; he’ll be back. It may take him a century or so, but fate is fate, and my old, jolly pirate can’t escape his, any more than you or I can, Jacob.”

“Would you please get on with your story?” he insisted.

“Yes, yes. Furl your sails, as Davy would say.”

“The bullets?” he reminded her.

“Indeed.” A sly smile of satisfaction curved her blubbery lips. “Now, you’re a smart boy, Jake. Do you really think I would go to all that trouble of changing Waldrick’s appearance for the task, and not bother to dust the bullets with a pinch of magic, too?”

Jake stared at her.
“What did you do?”

She could not seem to resist having the chance to brag at last about her sinister accomplishments. She simpered as though she were still the beautiful opera star Waldrick had paraded around London on his arm. “The cute little silver bullets that I loaded into the pistol for Waldrick were treated with something very special.”

“Tell me!” Jake roared.

“My, my! You almost remind me of him when you bellow like that. It’s adorable.”

“What was on the bullets?” he demanded.

She stared into his eyes, abandoning the sweet act. “A magical coating that drugged the Lightriders, sending them into a comatose state…that only simulated death.”

He nearly choked on his words. “You’re saying—”

“They didn’t die.”

He sat frozen, heart slamming in his chest.
Don’t believe her. Don’t believe her,
his better sense warned over and over again in time with his racing heartbeat. Even King Nereus had warned that she would try to deceive him.

“You’re lying,” Jake said in a hard monotone. “Hundreds of people came to the funeral, saw them in their caskets.”

Fionnula was shaking her head.

“Derek Stone was there! He told me, and Guardians don’t lie! Waldrick gave the eulogy at the church!”

“Yes, and several hours later, my associates quietly went in and took the bodies.”

“Who?” he demanded, trembling.

“Oh, I don’t know, Jake. I can’t think of
anyone
who’d want to get their hands on two young, otherwise-healthy Lightriders, can you?”

He stared at her, slack-jawed with shock.

“The Dark Druids,” he finally managed.

She merely inclined her head, as though not even she dared to come right out and speak against them. Not even from the safety of a high-security, undersea prison cell.

“Why?” Jake demanded, still telling himself not to believe her. “What did the warlocks want with them?”

She shrugged. “How should I know? Rumor has it they have some sort of project. It’s been going on for years now. But they wanted them alive. Yes, they were quite clear that the Lightriders were of no use to them dead. Something to do with the device implanted in their arms.”

Jake recalled Tex explaining to him and Maddox at Merlin Hall that the Flower of Life implant became unusable if the Lightrider died.

He had eyed Fionnula warily as she floated amid the dark green shadows behind the algae-covered bars of her cell.

“Why should I believe you?” Jake finally forced out.

She shrugged. “Believe what you want. But I’m not as evil as you think, Jake, and neither is Waldrick.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “He made servitors to hunt me down and try to murder me!”

“Pish, Waldrick’s harmless.”

“What about you, then?
You
tried to eat me and my Gryphon!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have provoked me into taking my Kraken form! How could you do that to me—in a London ballroom, of all places? Honestly!”

He gasped. “You’re blaming
me
?”

“Well, it’s a little embarrassing to have been seen like that by all Society,” she huffed. “I hope your aunt oublietted them, at least.”

Jake just scowled.

“You think I’m making light of this. No, trust me, darling,” Fionnula said with a dark look. “If you want to see real evil, talk to the gentlemen collecting Lightriders.”

Jake scrutinized her for a long moment. “Let’s just say that, hypothetically, I believed you. Why would you finally reveal the truth now?”

Her eyes narrowed, gleaming in the gloom. “Because the whole point of what I did to your parents was as a favor to those gentlemen, you understand? I was a fugitive from justice, Jake. I needed powerful allies…just in case. A lady on the run must gain the protection of powerful men somehow. And it worked. My offering pleased them and made them aware of my plight. We were on quite friendly terms for years. Everyone was happy. Waldrick loved being the earl. I had the gryphon feathers to turn myself gorgeous whenever I pleased—”

“Everyone was happy?” he burst out in fury. “You mean back in the days when I was an orphan starving in the streets?”

She ignored him. “The Council had two more Lightriders for their mysterious little project. Naturally, I thought they valued me. I considered them…friends. And yet here I am.” Her nostrils flared. “A full year in a cell now, and Zolond hasn’t lifted a finger to try to break me out of here.” She glanced around at the walls of her cage. “It’d be easy for him, I should think. But instead, the Council has forgotten all about me.
Well
. Fionnula Coralbroom’s friendship is not lightly thrown aside.”

With that, she had turned her back on him, making it clear that the interview was over.

Jake had taken leave of the gruff Viking mermen then.

The moment he had climbed up out of the water, tearing off his mask, his friends were there, clamoring to find out what he’d learned.

But he couldn’t even talk, couldn’t bring himself to say it. Derek had eyed him with a steady, searching gaze, then mumbled to the others, “Let him be.”

Jake was grateful. He didn’t want to speak the words out loud, this heartbreaking possibility that his parents might actually be alive. Because that might make it real enough that he could start to believe it, and he didn’t dare.

Not without proof.

Quickly, Jake had dried off and changed clothes, and they had got right back into the coach for the overnight ride home, Derek driving.

With every mile of the night-clad English countryside rolling by, the warning from King Nereus not to believe a word the sea-witch said rang in his ears.

They traveled all night, the others sleeping in the carriage, all leaning on each other, while Jake had stared out the window, wide awake, his entire world potentially turned upside down.

At last, they turned in the drive, entering through tall wrought-iron gates flanked by pillars with stone gryphons on top. The carriage rolled up the long drive, safe once more within the adjoining lands of Griffon Castle and Bradford Park; Aunt Ramona had laid on layers of enchantment protecting both properties.

By the time the weary horses clattered to a halt, it was nearly dawn.

Immediately, Jake jumped out of the carriage. After his journey to the coast, he needed to know if the sea-witch was telling the truth.

The morning was still dark and dewy, but the scarlet stain of sunrise began spreading behind the black trees. Seeing it, an old sailors’ proverb echoed through his mind.

Red sky at morning,
sailors take warning.

Jake walked across the lawn without even bothering to go inside the house. His heart pounded, but his stare was fixed on his destination.

He was barely aware of Archie and Dani hurrying after him, but they caught up without a word, leaving the others behind.

Each of his two best friends walked a step behind him, one on either side, as Jake stalked through the morning fog across the wet green lawn of Griffon Castle.

He fixed his sights on his parents’ white marble mausoleum, his heart pounding.

The same spot where he had stood two months ago to say goodbye. As then, the birds screeched their morning cacophony in the trees. Jake stepped past the memorial lantern continuously burning outside his parents’ tomb.

Once more he faced the black wrought-iron grille, and, behind it, the thick stone door that divided the living from the dead. A pang gripped his heart as he glanced at the gryphon rampant carved above the door.

Red.

His hands trembling just a little, Jake took the key out of his waistcoat pocket and unlocked the metal grate.

“We’re with you,” Dani whispered.

He squared his shoulders but didn’t look back. His stomach was churning as he pulled the outer grate open, slid back the heavy inner door, and entered the tomb.

Archie and Dani followed.

Inside the chilly marble space, the preternatural stillness stole the breath out of his very lungs. He shivered, feeling colder standing there than he had in the depths of the North Sea.

It was dark, but the glow from the memorial torch beyond the open door gave at least some illumination, even as it sent black shadows twisting over the walls in a macabre dance.

The dim glow flickered over the stately twin sarcophagi on thick marble pedestals, where the earl and countess were supposed to be resting in peace.

Jake’s pulse pounded as he stepped in. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this, but he walked over to his father’s sarcophagus and laid hold of the stone lid.
No disrespect intended, Father.

“Jake—you don’t really have to do this,” Dani whispered, laying a hand on his arm.

“Yes, I do. I have to know if she was telling the truth.”

“Here. That looks heavy.” Archie brushed off his hands and stepped over to Jake’s side. “I’ll help you.”

“No need.” Unable to budge the coffin’s lids using physical force, Jake waved his cousin aside and made sure Dani was clear, then did his best to clear his mind and summoned up his telekinesis.

Let’s just get this over with.
Staring down the narrow center aisle between their two marble sarcophagi, he gathered his strength to use the very talent he’d inherited from the man supposedly in the coffin for the task.

Perhaps the enormity of what he was about to find out had skewed the amount of force he put into it, for both stone lids cracked and broke in two pieces when he swept them off his parents’ tombs and lowered them to the ground.

The sharp sounds made Dani jump.

Jake swallowed hard as he walked over to his father’s sarcophagus first. Inside the big, long white marble box was a shiny mahogany casket.