The creature was dark furred and probably weighed close to a hundred pounds. The guard hairs gathered into wet points along its body, shedding water as it moved toward us. Its thick whiskers bristled forward and I could hear it sniff the air, its lip curled up a little to reveal ivory teeth like the interlocking spikes of a bear trap.
Solis and I stood still and waited to see what the beast would do. It sat down by the steps to Seawitch’s deck. As we continued to stare at it, the beast lowered its upper body and lay on the cement dock, making a huffing sound as if it were mildly annoyed with us for making it wait. I glanced at Solis and he at me. We seemed to come to an agreement without actually saying anything and began forward again together, with caution.
The dobhar-chú—if it was one—jumped back to its feet as we approached and watched us anxiously. Or I took it as anxiety because bright yellow-orange sparks seemed to leap from it and vanish into the air around it with a wet, sizzling sound. But it didn’t move toward us. Perhaps it was afraid of scaring us off. . . . I’m not afraid of dogs, but this creature sent a chill up my spine as it stared at us with inscrutable dark eyes. We closed the gap to the steps slowly, watching the beast as we did.
At ten feet or so, the dobhar-chú took a single pace forward, blocking the stairs, and made a noise that sounded like “Who?”
I glanced at Solis, who wasn’t quite as calm as he was trying to project. His gaze met mine in a jump that turned away again before it returned more steadily.
The creature barked again, “Who!”
I waved my hand at the policeman. “This is Rey Solis. He’s a police detective. He’s supposed to find out what happened on board—if there was a crime when the boat was . . . lost.”
The dobhar-chú made a derisive laughing noise, then turned and dove into the water, vanishing in a flurry of bubbles.
“I guess that means you’re cleared to come aboard.”
“And if I was not?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. And we don’t have to find out today.”
We went aboard and even Solis shuddered at the touch of the boiling, sparking energy that engulfed the boat and reached inside with streamers of smoke like diseased fingers. All the way down to the engine room the air, thickened with magic and must, seemed to resist us and press into our noses with the odor of corruption beyond mere rot. I touched the engine-room door and hoped the ghosts hadn’t dissipated.
Inside they rushed toward us, a swarm of darkness and whispers that swirled up from the bell hanging from my hands and seemed to burst from the floor. I saw Solis flinch from the feel of them, like trailing cobwebs. I let myself sink down a bit into the Grey, where they had more substance and appeared as a group of half-formed human shapes rather than an amorphous mass of shadow. They obviously had some freedom here that they didn’t have away from Seawitch.
They were individuals but still connected in a writhing knot of blackness that muttered of misery and horrors beyond death. I reached out for one of them, certain that engaging one engaged them all. “You are the ghosts of Valencia,” I started, knowing it’s always better to present knowledge before you start asking for favors.
“Harper Blaine,” they whispered, nodding collectively.
I was a little taken aback. It’s rare for a ghost to know who I am—it’s not as if they have the ectoplasmic Internet to look me up on. I dropped deeper into the Grey, to a level where the ghosts began to have more individual substance and the hull of the boat faded to mist. Strange shapes rose with the ghosts: twisted metal, glimmering rods that seemed to fall from the sky, broken steel spars and cables that whipped the air in an unseen gale. I touched one of the rods and felt icy wetness; the rods were streamers of rain and fog catching momentary lights in the storm. They had brought Valencia’s last moments with them. I shuddered and pulled back my hand, chilled.
“We came to you,” the mass whisper said.
“How did you know of me . . . ?”
“The water hounds.”
“The dobhar-chú? Those otterlike creatures?”
They sighed assent. I wanted to turn to Solis and see his reaction, but he was masked by the mist and memory the ghosts had brought with them. I wasn’t touching him this time so he wasn’t anchored to my experience of the Grey. I hoped he could see or hear any of what was happening, but I wasn’t sure—his ability to see the Grey seemed extremely limited outside my influence, and I felt lucky he was going on trust as much as he was.
“They have hidden us from the water folk and their witch in the cove. We helped the otter man, who offended the siren, but can do no more. Now is the time we can flee.”
“Flee? How did you get here? What are you fleeing?”
“The witch. The otter man brought us here. But we are tired and the gap in the world is narrow. Bring us forth from our enslavement!” The boat shook with their sudden roar. “Bring us forth!”
“How?” I demanded, but they’d spent their allotted energy and they seemed to implode, crushing into a dark point at the center of a ripple of outward-rolling force that shoved me out of the Grey and rammed me back against the nearest hard surface. A sharp pain snapped across my back as one of my ribs cracked against the sudden stop of falling. Breath rushed from my lungs and I doubled over, slumping forward as I rebounded from the hit.
The engine room was shadowed, lit only by the floor-scanning swing of Solis’s pocket flashlight as he crossed to me. We hadn’t even had time to turn on the lights. . . .
Solis started to stoop and help me up, but I waved him off, sipping at the air, trying to refill my lungs without hurting so badly that I spent all my new breath on crying. If I gave it a moment’s thought I’d notice I’d banged my knees and elbows a bit, too, but they didn’t hold a candle to the spiking discomfort of my rib. I hoped it wasn’t really broken, but that was probably a forlorn hope. I was ridiculously happy I had left my pistol in my coat pocket instead of putting it in the usual low-back holster, where it could have broken more than one of my ribs.
I managed to get enough breath to tell Solis I was OK, which was true enough since I wasn’t dead, dying, or catastrophically broken this time. But, damn, it hurt!
“I saw you fall,” Solis said. “I heard something, like someone muttering, but I could not understand all the words. What happened?”
“Ghosts are . . . really angry,” I panted. “Blew their budget . . . to yell at me.”
“Yell what?”
“Later,” I said, waving off his question. I was too uncomfortable to linger and tell the tale that minute.
“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, putting out a hand for me to grab if I wanted the support.
I did and accepted the boost all the way back to my feet. I forced myself to stand straight in spite of the ache in my side and back. “A little dented. I think . . . I cracked a rib.”
“Ah,” he said. “Left side?”
“Yes,” I hissed.
He picked up the bag full of bell and came around to my right to give me something to lean on if I wanted it. I did and we worked our way back to the door. Moving away, I realized I’d fallen against one of the engines. They were built as sturdily as the proverbial brick outhouse. No wonder I’d bent a part of myself.
“You need a hospital,” Solis said, as we negotiated the doorway.
I snorted and regretted it. “They won’t do anything but tell me to take painkillers and rest,” I panted. “I can do that at home.”