The Storm King(44)
When Lucy was ready, they headed for the spiral staircase that led to the Century Room. These stairs also descended to a dark maze of low-ceilinged rooms constructed for God only knew what purpose. The stories about the Night Ship spoke of hidden passages in the walls and under the floors, though Nate had never succeeded in finding these. However, there was a large, intricate trapdoor in the undercroft that doubled as a boat launch. Nate and Tom agreed that this had probably been constructed for bootleggers during Prohibition. Concealed behind an array of pilings, this was the perfect way to get to the abandoned pier undetected.
Nate had left the launch door open, and their black canoe bobbed serenely where he’d tied it. In the shadow of the pier, the lake was obsidian. He held Lucy’s hand as she stepped into the boat. Once seated, she picked up a paddle and propped it by the bow where it would be ready for him.
Nate was the only one who ever rowed. He liked squiring Lucy across the waters, as he knew she liked being squired. In the quiet of the lake, there was just the two of them.
Nate’s own step into the boat coincided with a swell that sent the vessel rocking. They didn’t come close to capsizing, but the oar tipped into the water. It floated just a foot from the hull, but Nate hesitated to reach for it.
“I got it, McHale,” Lucy said. Nate had dated Lucy for months before she’d managed to coax him into a boat of any kind. He still didn’t like the lake.
She retrieved the paddle, and he managed not to shudder at the slick cold on its rubber skin. Another reason he liked the exertion of rowing solo was that it left less time for him to dwell on the lake and how they so precariously rode its icy skin above its unfathomable dark. He pulled a chain to raise the launch door and turned the latch to lock it.
“It’s supposed to rain, you know,” Lucy said. As Nate pulled them free of the Night Ship’s shadow, her eyes lit like shards of sea glass. “They sent out an email about bringing umbrellas to graduation.”
“I saw it,” Nate said. “Occasional cloudbursts.” He knew where she was going with this. As he paddled, he looked at the web of scars on his bad arm. He tried to see past the healed flesh to the places where his bones had been pinned together in a patchwork that somehow held. Today, he detected only the faintest of aches. Before a storm—the kind of storm he looked forward to—his arm howled like sonar. The pain pulsed with the beat of his heart and the rhythm of thunder.
“I hope it doesn’t mess up the party at Jim’s house.”
“A little rain won’t stop the party. You might say some parties only really get started once the weather kicks in.” He smiled at her, but she shook her head.
“You told me the Thunder Runs would end once school was over.”
“School will be over. Tomorrow,” Nate said. They’d had this conversation before. When they began, Lucy had been as fired up by their storm-borne justice as the rest of them, but she’d gradually lost the taste for it. While she might suggest the occasional target, she hadn’t been on a Thunder Run with them in many months.
“Swear to me that this is the last one.”
“What happened to my bloodthirsty girl?”
“She grew up,” Lucy said. “And moved on. See that you do the same, or she might just move on without you.” Her eyes twinkled when she said this, but Nate knew the threat was not entirely unserious.
“It’s the last one. I promise. Then we’re done with the Thunder Runs and the Night Ship.”
“Cross your heart?”
Nate looked out over the lake’s mirrored surface. The sun had risen enough to dim the glory of the dawn. Blue had not yet filled the void, and the water Nate pulled them through was as colorless as the sky. “The reign of the Storm King is ended,” Nate said. “His foes lie vanquished, and peace dwells now in his realm along the shore.” He smiled, though saying this made him sadder than he’d have guessed. But nothing lasted forever. Soon they’d be in the city, where their lives would accelerate into a future they could scarcely imagine. To move on, some things had to be left behind. Lucy was right: The Storm King and his Thunder Runs had served their purpose. Now it was time to grow up.
He must have sighed, because Lucy was still watching him.
“What am I going to do with you, McHale?”
“If you run out of ideas, I can do some research,” he said. She smiled at that. He rowed in silence for a while. The lake was beginning to come to life. A fishing boat with its rails lined with yawning tourists cut through the water on their way to the lake’s northern bulge. Closer to shore, the heads of Daybreakers bobbed as they began their morning rituals.
“You have a plan?” Lucy eventually asked him. A rhetorical question. The Storm King always had a plan. “Nothing too reckless, right?”
“Moi?”
“It’s just that it would be a shame to spend your first night as a high school graduate in jail.” It was their usual repartee, but as before, Nate detected an undercurrent of gravity. “And nothing too complicated.”
After the early misstep of burning the Deckers’ house, they’d stuck to acts that could be plausibly blamed on storm damage or other natural occurrences. The most elaborate of these targeted a coach on the soccer team who’d been giving Tom grief. When an early blizzard struck over a weekend when the man and his family were out of town, Nate knew just what to do. Temperatures had plummeted, and the boys spent the night hosing down trees on the man’s property. As the layers of water froze, one of the trees finally shattered under its weight. It collapsed against windows and walls, and completely cut off the driveway. It’d taken them a brutal four hours in polar cold to accomplish this, but the gleaming wreckage they’d left behind had made it worthwhile.