Lake Silence (The Others #6)(60)

“Why do you ask?”

“Well . . .” I waved an arm toward the center of the lake, my fingertips trailing in the water. “This is your home. We’re guests.”

She smiled, clearly pleased that I understood. “Your guests will be my guests.” Then she raised a hand and looked stern. “But no motor-things.”

“No motor-things.” Since we were chatting, it was my chance to ask. “Why no motors? Do they spoil the water?”

“Some Elders live in the northern end of the lake, but they hunt the length and breadth of my home. The sound of the motor-things is the sound of both prey and challenger—and the sound annoys them, so they will attack even if they are not hungry.”

Oh golly. “What about the way humans splash around when they’re swimming? Sharks are attracted to that sound because it sounds like a fish in distress. At least, that’s what I’ve read.”

She laughed. “There are no sharks, or Sharkgard, in the Feather Lakes.” She thought for a moment before adding, “The Elders in the lake are smaller than many of the old forms of terra indigene, but they are fast and fierce. However, they do not attack humans who behave as guests—unless those humans enter their home water at the northern end of the lake.”

The Elders in the lake might be smaller, but there was at least one form of terra indigene living in The Jumble that was big enough to pick up a grown man and twist him. How big was the biggest Elder living in the lake? And what were we talking about? Something that looked like an alligator but was big enough that it could ram a motorboat? And what about the smaller ones? Were they dog size? People size? And if they did get hungry, just how fast could a human be consumed?

My brain stuttered. Was that a minnow trying to nibble on my ankle or something else?

I focused on my companion. It was like watching water ebb and flow in a human-shaped container. She watched me as if I was the most entertaining thing she’d seen in quite a while. I wondered if that was true.

“Vicki? Vicki!”

I turned toward the shore. “That’s my friend Ineke. Would you like to meet her?”

“Not today.” She sank to the waist. Then the human shape rose on a column of water, like one of those leaping game fish. As she reached the apex of the leap and headed down, her shape dissolved until only a spray of sun-sparkled water met the rest of the lake.

I stumbled out of the water, stopping where the wet sand changed to dry—and hot—sand.

“Vicki?” Ineke’s voice sounded worried.

“Here!”

She appeared a minute later. “I thought you might be cooling off. It’s a good day for it, and . . . Gods! What happened?” She led me to the towel, dug in my bag, and opened the bottle of juice. “Drink some of this. You’re white as a sheet.”

“I just met the Lady of the Lake.”

Ineke stared at me. “What’s she like?”

“Watery. And quite nice.” I drank some of the juice. “She has no objections to our beach days as long as we give her home the same care and respect as our own.”

Ineke took the juice and drank some before giving the bottle back to me. “Sounds fair.”

I leaned toward her. “She said Elders live in the lake. Their home is the northern end of Lake Silence, but they hunt in and along the whole of the lake, and they’re the ones who don’t like things with motors.”

“Then we should be safe enough.” She eyed me. “Right?”

“Right.” But the next time I went to Lettuce Reed, I was going to see what books Julian had about alligators and ancient freshwater predators. Just in case.





CHAPTER 34





Grimshaw


Sunsday, Juin 20

Pulling into the truck stop, Grimshaw parked next to the other police car and sat for a minute. He still worked for Captain Hargreaves, was still on the Bristol payroll as a highway patrol officer since his stint in Sproing was a temporary assignment. So he had to wonder why he wasn’t being asked to report to the Bristol Police Station instead of his captain going off the clock to meet him here—because he was sure Hargreaves had taken personal time instead of officially meeting one of his officers.

Grimshaw slid into one side of the booth and set his hat and a manila envelope on the seat. “Captain.”

“This . . .”

Hargreaves broke off and smiled at the waitress who hustled up to their table. He ordered the steak sandwich special and iced coffee. Grimshaw ordered the same to save time.

“This should have been an easy assignment,” Hargreaves said. “A human killed by one of the terra indigene? It’s unfortunate, but everything points to the man being seen as an intruder.”

“Should have been easy, but that death turned over a rock and a lot of nastiness has crawled out.” Grimshaw picked up the envelope and slid it across the table. “My report. Didn’t want to send it by e-mail.”

While Hargreaves read the report, Grimshaw stared out the window. Vicki DeVine should be safe in The Jumble. A sharpshooter might set up across the lake or on the water and try for her when she went for a swim, but it would be a suicide mission because he didn’t think anyone could get away fast enough once the shot was fired. But Julian? Someone could walk into Lettuce Reed and open fire. If the attack was timed right, he and Osgood wouldn’t be nearby, and no one else would take on an armed man.