Like Moonlight on Water: Chapter 14

Spirals

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Welcome, new subscribers! Like Moonlight on Water is the sequel to my speculative women’s fiction novel Daughters of Men, and unless you like spoilers, you’ll definitely want to read Book 1 first. Or, dive in with the beginning of LMoW here. ✨Paid subscribers will have full access to all chapters and receive the finished e-book, but for now all chapters are FREE.✨

Click here for the previous chapter in which Eileen just blurted a secret she’d been keeping from Adam.

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Spirals

Low, rumbling thunder vibrated the house. Eileen slapped her hands over her mouth. And Adam looked at me.

“You allowed…?”

I shook my head, gripping the table to keep from running to him. “My grandmother knew Sal. She asked him before she died.”

“He stuck a needle in my umbilical cord!” Eileen rushed to explain, her words jumbled and confusing. “Mom almost died, and he was there because Mimi was a spy for the aliens, but only because he lied to her and pretended to be an angel. I can’t do anything interesting yet, and I do still hate him, mostly, but he tried to help the bees and I thought maybe he wasn’t so bad, but then…”

“Then?” Adam’s voice was chillingly neutral.

“And then…” I stood and walked to him, pulling his attention from Eileen to where it belonged. Hate me. Just me. “I finally realized that thanks to my grandmother’s service, Sal’s family had gifted my daughter with perfect health.”

“Perfect?” Adam moved even closer, searching my face. “Do you know?”

Sal cleared his throat, and our heads swiveled to him.

“Adam, regarding the hypothetical we discussed yesterday…the factors—the modulators—are different. She will not be harmed.”

I frowned at him. What hypothetical?

“Why would I get hurt?” Eileen demanded. “What’re y’all talking about?” She stormed over to Sal. “Are these things radioactive?”

He laughed—far too loud to be unforced—but Eileen relaxed into a sulk.

“It’s a reasonable question,” she insisted. “You haven’t told me what they’re made of.”

Sal shrugged. “You have not asked.”

“Well, I’m asking now!”

“You would be better served by studying the elements and then…”

Their bickering faded into the background as Adam leaned in. The spicy scent of juniper mingled with his sweat and I hated myself for the flush of blood that rose under my skin. He spoke low in my ear, words for me only, warm breath like a caress…

“I don’t believe you anymore.”

Sal set another glass on the table. “Drink.”

“I’m swimming already,” Lila complained, but sipped and then retreated back into her misery.

He sat in the chair beside her, and together they watched Eileen on the couch. The child was again engrossed in her artwork, seemingly unaware that she was drawing with both her left and right hands.

“Are you still prepared to accept the consequences?” he asked quietly. Adam had left without displaying affection for the child, a ramification Lila had apparently not considered.

“Most humans suck,” she mumbled.

“That is inaccurate. Statistically speaking, in any given subset of the global pop—”

“Shut up, Sal.” She plucked at her sweater and stood. “I’m going to change and go for a walk.”

He glanced out the window and noted the burgeoning clouds. The air carried the scent of rain.

“I would not venture far.”

“Chaos theory,” Eileen spoke for the first time since Adam’s departure. “Butterfly flaps its wings and on the other side of the planet there’s a typhoon.”

“Lorenz actually referred to a seagull and a storm, but…”

But Eileen was not interested in learning right now. In fact, she had grown even moodier after beginning to draw, contrary to the known benefits of creative therapy.

Lila paused at her bedroom door. “Didn’t you say that y’all don’t mess with the weather? That the repercussions are too great?”

“I did.” He looked out the window again. The air pressure had dropped further—and faster—than he would have liked.

“So why did you?”

“Geez, Mom. Why do you think?” Eileen rubbed her thumb across the drawing, evaluated the effect, and continued sketching.

Lila changed her clothing quickly and left.

“Eileen, you exploit your mother’s concern for your well-being. She is also upset.”

“Coulda fooled me.” She flipped the sketchbook to a different page. “And what’s this?”

Sal held in a sigh and went to her. “These are your designs, and I do not recognize—”

“Not the flowers, dummy, the word!” She squinted at her mother’s handwriting—which, to be objective, was rather difficult to read. “Why would she write that here?”

“I do not know.”

“Oh, great. You, too. So alien adults are lying hypocrites just like human ones.”

“Just because you deem my response unsatisfactory, does not mean—”

“Doesn’t mean what? Doesn’t mean you’re being dishonest? Doesn’t mean you’re keeping something from me?” She leapt up and shoved the paper in his face. “You really expect me to believe you don’t know why she’d leave a clue in my…on…” Her eyes widened.

“It is not a clue, child. And I do not know the significance. Dramatization nurtures a weak mind.”

“Alright, fine.” She thrust the pad and pencil against his stomach. “So tell me what you do know.” Her left eyebrow arched—so like her mother’s—and she waited.

When he did not immediately begin writing, she swung her leg back and he sidestepped to avoid a rather vicious kick to his shin. Not because she could harm him—her toes would break—but because she could strike him. As evidenced the previous morning, his modulators recognized hers and identified her as a non-threat. One more risk. He needed to give the Servants something else to consider. And a mystery for Eileen’s keen mind to contemplate.

He spoke as he wrote. “What I know is that you need to control your emotions. You return to school tomorrow—or had you forgotten your mother agreed?”

I will pretend to teach you how to use your modulators as I can use mine. The Servants will know this is impossible and presume I indulge you.

“No one likes a tempestuous brat,” he admonished. Eileen huffed and tapped the paper for him to continue writing.

You are extraordinarily intelligent. You might be able to learn what other humans cannot. But keep your progress to yourself. He underlined the last word for emphasis.

Having a secret of her own would appease her—and he would know, regardless. She stepped back, her teeth pulling on her bottom lip, already deep in thought at the possibilities.

Now for the most important manipulation.

“Eileen, I want you to know that I do understand how disappointed you must feel, not to have abilities like your mother—but you are very special. And you can be helpful.”

She stopped chewing and crossed her arms, ready to reject anything he proposed. “How?”

“Gather anecdotal information on the Seneca Guns. Identify others who may share realities with your par—mother.”

“I’m not going to rat out people!”

His slip had been intentional, and he knew she would remember—later. But first, he needed to deliver the taunt that might protect her if all else failed.

“Ah, I apologize.” He smiled, his tone gentle, “Trying to save the world is too much to ask of a child. You are not a coward, young one.”

She snorted. “I’m not stupid enough to fall for that.”

“No one would consider your hesitance stupid. It is perfectly understandable—and commendable. There will be other ways you can—”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

A flutter of relief threatened to betray him, but he kept his breathing even. Just as her great-grandmother before her, Eileen would now be considered useful. And if he—

A deafening crack and flash of lightning filled the room, leaving the house deeply shadowed.

Eileen shivered and rubbed her bare arms. “That was close! All my hairs stood up!”

Sal went to the windows, but Lila was not in sight. Fitful gusts of wind now tossed raindrops, while the skies in the distance glowed silver with sunlight.

“Do you know where she is?” Eileen asked.

“By the river.” He had heard her receding footsteps.

“She’ll be back in a minute.” The child peered out the screened door. “She’s not stupid.”

“Remember that the next time you are aggravated.”

Eileen glared over her shoulder. “About lightning,” she qualified.

Rain speckled the porch now, fat splashes that became musical taps—then muted clinks and thuds. Hail.

Eileen rushed outside. “Mo-om!” she called and started down the stairs. “Something’s not—”

She slipped and Sal caught her by the arms.

“Stay here!” he ordered, but as he raced toward the river he sensed Eileen’s heartbeat accelerate and heard her feet behind him.

The storm, itself, would not contain enough energy for Transition but Servants were resourceful.

“Lilith!” he shouted. “Lil—”

Light Giver!

At the cat’s call, Sal veered toward the marsh. A lone gull swooped and rose above a stand of dead trees, circling and diving against the wind—and he knew.

“There! In the ghost forest!” Eileen cried.

He hesitated at the wetland’s edge, just long enough for her to catch up, then shoved her off-balance. Her backside hit the wet ground with a loud squelch, and she blinked up at him, too stunned to move.

Danger! He pushed the warning at her—not knowing how or if she could receive it—and leapt down into the sharp grasses. Low tide. Just as when he had been returned.

The cat mewed, and he sprinted to the base of a beetle-stricken cypress. Lila’s body was strewn across the exposed roots, her wet hair like streaks of dark blood across her face and chest.

Pebbles wound over and around Lila’s legs as Sal knelt beside her. Walks where We are not give Light show path Dark find where Walks one not We, the cat’s thoughts were as sinuous as her movements.

I dare not. He raised Lila to his chest, and shielded her from the storm as best he could. The cat’s tail lashed amid the pelting hail and she hissed at him. I cannot, he insisted.

Among the pungent odors of the wetlands, he detected Lila’s lemon-scented breath, though the languorous rhythm of her heart was inaudible to any ears but his—and the cat’s. Pebbles hissed again and batted Lila’s dangling hand—then bit it.

“Uh!” Lila stirred in his arms. “Uh-leen…”

“Lilith!” He held her closer and pressed his lips to her forehead. She tasted of brine and rain, her skin chilled like the dead. “Eileen is here. She is safe.”

The child was frantic at the edge of the marsh, and he waved to allay her worst fear before standing with Lila’s limp form. Comfort, he instructed, and Pebbles padded swiftly through the cold mud and grasses to Eileen.

“Wh-where?” Lila tried to free herself, but he curled her against him and broke into a run.

“Mom!” Ignoring the cat, Eileen ran into the marsh to meet them. “What happened?!”

“I’m fine…” Lila kicked, but he held her close even after they reached solid ground. The hail had become icy stones that battered flesh, and the cat scurried to shelter in the underbrush.

“Come!” Sal ordered, and Eileen covered her head with her arms, running in lockstep behind him. The clinking, clattering ice roared through his Audial Enhancers, and he strained to monitor Lila’s breathing. She now lay too still. Too compliant. The stairs to the porch were already carpeted in hail—a hazard for any feet but his—so he led Eileen beneath the house to where the motorcycle was parked among the pilings.

“Mom!” Eileen pawed her mother’s arm and Lila roused herself again.

“Mm-fine!”

She struggled until Sal set her on her feet, but when she swayed, Eileen latched onto her.

“She’s freezing!” the child yelled above the noise. “We need to get her inside!”

A blaze of white lightning struck a pine tree and the smell of blistering sap filled his nose. Thunder boomed, and he felt the air pressure shift.

“Not yet!” He allowed his modulators to increase his core temperature, positioning himself so his ambient heat would warm them both.

Rain mixed with hail now, and the noise subsided to a loud rush.

“You’re bleeding!” Eileen wiped her mother’s hand with the hem of her shirt. “What happened?”

Lila frowned at the spots of blood oozing from the punctures.

“Lila?” Sal lifted her chin, hating himself for the purple and black bruises beneath it. “Where were you?”

Her eyes found Eileen and her heart stuttered one beat. Afraid.

“Remember, Lila?” His thumb caressed her lower lip as he let go and she exhaled. “Just answer my questions. That is all we need.” For now.

Lila’s gaze swept back to him, and Eileen dropped her hand.

“Just tell him, Mom! And I know they aren’t dreams, so you might as well tell the truth!”

Lila shivered and he moved closer. The ground past the house was two inches deep in an unnatural slush and he noticed more blood scenting the air. Metallic, like his own—the child’s feet!

Sliced from running on ice and sawgrass, Eileen’s feet bled into the sandy soil beneath the house. Without a moment to spare, he grabbed the child’s hands and sent a charge through her body, her eyelids fluttering before Lila could move to interfere. Then he stepped back with his hands in the air.

“I activated the modulators to heal her feet—that is all!”

Lila stuttered mid-curse, and dropped to her knees to pull one of her daughter’s feet into her lap. As Eileen had done, she used her own shirt to wipe away dirt and blood, exposing perfect, unbroken skin.

“She was injured. I had to.” He offered a hand for Lila to stand, and she accepted it.

“Of course you did. Thank you.” She squeezed before letting go, and he knew she understood.

Eileen’s modulators were already healing the cuts—would have healed them without any interaction from him—but far too quickly to escape notice from the Servants.

The child balanced on her toes to peer at the dirt, and then checked the soles of her feet. “Okay,” her tone was grudging. “That is seriously cool. I hadn’t even noticed they were cut.”

“Adrenaline,” he lied.

Lila offered him a wan smile. “I suppose yours are healed, too?”

“Yes.” No need to even look, and like Eileen, he had not noticed the injuries. His modulators—and hers—were particularly adept at recognizing when pain was useful or an impediment.

The sky poured a fine, chill rain now, and the hail had begun to dissolve. Nature had assimilated the imbalance he had created. This time.

"I wasn't alone." Lila peered out at the brightening sky, and extended her hand to catch the rain. "I felt...someone." Eileen's sharp inhalation made her turn. "That's why I left the river."

They waited, but she merely turned back to the rain.

Eileen looked at him and shrugged. "Focus isn’t her thing."

Indeed. Lila appeared to have lapsed back into a dreamlike state, watching the water stream through her outstretched fingers.

"Maybe coffee or food." Eileen suggested.

He disagreed. More delays, while Lila's brain began to filter and parse its experiences, perhaps mixing realities in an effort to create continuity.

He glanced around and created a makeshift bench from paint cans and a length of lumber that Adam had left behind. The man had leaned on Lila during the month Cara had been with the Servants and created projects as excuses to visit.

When Eileen pulled her mother’s arm to sit, Lila gasped and sank down beside her.

"Geez, don’t look at me like that." Eileen made a face.

"Lila!" Sal snapped his fingers and the woman’s head slowly pivoted. "Describe what you sensed."

"Just one of my energies." She turned back to her daughter and separated a single lock of blonde hair, fingering the damp curl with thoughtful fascination. "You're beautiful," she said.

“Th-thanks?" Eileen leaned backwards. "What's wrong with her?" she asked him.

Lila blinked. "I'm fine, honey. Just glad to see you." She stood and paced in a loop, her lips moving without speaking.

“What are you saying?" Sal asked.

She shook her head and jabbed a finger at him. "Why’d you tell her? That was an asshole move."

Confused, Sal glanced at Eileen. "Tell her what?"

"Duh!” the child sneered. “That Mom’s so-called dreams are some type of astral projection. Don't bother lying.”

“I did n—”

"Come on, Mom. Answer his questions and save the world so we can get something to eat. I'm starving."

Nonplussed, Sal tabled consideration of the child's strategy for another time.

"Lilith."

Her head snapped toward him.

"Describe the presence you felt and the sequence of events. Please."

She frowned and paced another circle in the opposite direction.

"Look!" Eileen pointed to the overlapping footprints connecting the two circles. "A lemniscate, like the birds."

Lila threw up her hands. "Interrupting doesn't help!"

"Um, sorry?" Eileen retreated to Sal's side. "She’s freaking me out now," she whispered.

Her mother laughed and raked her fingers through her tangled hair to clear her face.

“I’m fine. Really.” She drew a deep breath. “Let’s try this again—but don’t think you’re off the hook, jerk.” She shook an index finger at him.

Eileen shifted her weight, and he heard…no, he felt her faint apology.

“I wanted to sit by the river,” Lila said, “but I was pulled to the marsh. Not a physical pull, like someone yanking my arm, but like part of me was being drawn out of my chest and throat.” Lila spoke to them both, but he knew her concise delivery was for the Servants. “Energy,” she shrugged. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Have you experienced that sensation before?” he asked.

She looked at something over his left shoulder, then up at the beams supporting the house above them.

“Yes,” she responded. “But the only time I’ve felt it that strong before was…” Her eyes met his, then flicked to Eileen and back. Looking for guidance on how much to share.

“Provide an example for comparison,” he nodded. “The Servants can review the data accumulated during that occurrence.”

“It was…it was years ago. I don’t really…oh! That night at the donut shop, after we left Maureen and Phil’s.”

“The robbery? Is that why you—”

“Robbery!” Eileen interjected. “You were robbed?”

“No, honey!” Lila rushed to soothe with touch and words. “We were not robbed. We were in the parking lot, completely safe.” She palmed her daughter’s cheeks and winked. “An invisible friend pushed me back in the truck before it even happened!”

Sal’s jaw set at her blithe tone, and Eileen swatted her mother’s hands away.

“If it wasn’t a big deal, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honey, I—”

“From your mother’s perspective, the incident was only notable for—”

“For the way Sal overreacted. I promise, nothing hap—”

“Lila, it was not nothing. I saw his fractal fire its weapon.”

“He had a gun?!” the child shrieked. “What’s wrong with you?! Your whole life is a lie!”

She shoved past her mother and ran into the rain and up the steps. The screened door’s new hinges squealed, and angry stomps trekked overhead, followed by the bedroom door slamming. There was a slight pause, then rapid, muffled pounding and a ragged sob.

Lila sighed. “I know you’re listening. How bad is it?”

“She just learned that a wall is stronger than her fists.”

“Fists.”

“She is uninjured,” he assured her. “I believe she struck with the sides of her hands, like this…” He raised his own to demonstrate, grateful the child had not bruised herself.

Lila’s head tipped sideways, as if listening to something behind her shoulder. “Motorcycles are dangerous,” she murmured.

Sal’s heart accelerated, but he scoffed, “That again? She is safe with me, Lila!”

Nonetheless, he held her gaze, unblinking, to communicate that he understood. However unlikely, a catastrophic accident would trigger rapid healing—and most certainly draw the attention of the Servants.

“Right.” Lila straightened her shoulders. “So before I go punish her or hug her—probably both—let’s finish this. What did you see that night?”

“I saw his fractal attack yours. Something we had not known to be possible.”

“And that makes me a freak, not him?”

“As I have said before, ‘freak’ is not—”

Lila held up a hand.

“So the answer’s yes.” She looked up as if peering into her daughter’s room above—or perhaps a world beyond. “I felt like I was being led on a leash, but I trusted it…the energy. But when I stopped…when I didn’t want to go any further…it…”

She crossed her arms and scanned the shadows under the house. Sunshine now brightened the yard, and the rain had subsided to a cool, gleaming mist.

“You can speak freely,” he encouraged. Only the Servants are listening. “We are alone.”

But Lila threw her head back in a sudden, wild laugh.

“I’m never alone!”

Chapter 15, “And Splinters” is next…

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