We, Kraken: Volcano Chronicles, #2

Part One

The Ballad of the Sea Mother

When all-a world goes dark, look up,

To find me in the skies.

Close not thine heart,

Or dim thy voice,

Sea Mother, she shall rise.

Chapter One

THE NIGHT I called my brother a murderer was the worst of my life. It was early summer, with heat bristling and people noising until dawn. Even the birds didn’t sleep. But I’d been sent to bed at ten, like always. Grumbling and defiant. Sick of the status quo. My brother was a stickler for rules. Although I was fifteen, he treated me as if I were a little kid.

School tomorrow, Devi!

Don’t forget to clean your teeth.

No wandering the flat during the night.

The usual Kraken rubbish. I went to bed and somehow nodded off. Just after midnight, I crashed awake to an unsettling dream about a stone bridge.

I called in vain for my cousin. Jon?

Then got up and padded into the kitchen, half asleep, with ultra-raw senses. A single light bulb stung my sensitive eyes. A high-pitched electrical scream emanated from our battered fridge.

It took a few minutes to make sense of the midnight scene. Except for my cousin, Jon, every member of the Kraken gang was present. Farlo, who paced the kitchen. Bersha and Tomi, scrubbing blood from their hands. My brother, Korl, and his girlfriend, Anees, talking in a corner.

A gun lay on the edge of the table. Black, metallic, and menacing.

A gun.

I should have asked where it came from and why it was in our kitchen. Rumours of guns and knives were rife throughout Exer City, but I’d never thought my family were involved. As far as I knew, the Kraken gang avoided trouble.

"What’s going on? Has anyone seen Jon? I did knock," I said stupidly. Obliviously. Trying to avoid being told off. My brother was a rule dictator, and I didn’t want to be grounded again.

Korl stopped whispering. For a really long minute, he didn’t say anything, only looked across at me where I huddled in striped nightie and cat-print socks.

It was then I realised and acknowledged something was very wrong. Korl’s face was vacant, glassy-eyed, and lacking in expression. It upset me. I wanted him to shout the safety of our normal boundaries: Get back to bed! You don’t wander the flat at night alone.

But he didn’t. Nobody said a word. The only sounds were of frenzied scrubbing and the screaming electric wire. Minutes went by. I didn’t think of the significance of the gun.

Absent-mindedly, I picked up a cloth and started wiping the table. Blood. Urgh.

Anees leapt into action and shook my brother’s arm until he rattled. Devi! she hissed violently. Put the gun down. Go to bed and lock the door. Now!

The moments of excruciating weirdness came to an abrupt end when Korl thumped the fridge hard enough to break open the universe. Get that thing out of here! Why have you people brought a gun into my home?

His voice was strained and wild. I thought he was about to cry and considered going back to bed. Although I often ignored my brother, it was usually obvious when it was time to bolt.

He blinked, looked from Tomi to Anees, and then finally at me. His eyes went from glazed to heated. When he spoke, he’d regained control.

Go to bed, Devi. Everyone get out except Anees.

I finished cleaning the weapon but didn’t let it go.

Right then, Jon walked in and saw me holding the gun. I swear, every normal sound in the flat—screaming fridge wire, dripping tap, Korl’s alarm clock—stopped. My kind-hearted cousin disintegrated. His hands trembled and tears started in his eyes. Normally, I’d have run to help.

Jon, Korl said. Mate! It’s not what you think. Nobody’s seriously hurt. It was just a scrape.

A huge sob ripped through my cousin’s body, and he uttered a horrible sound of pain. It transported me from numbness into a different reality.

I hallucinated a soldier; lying in a heap on the ground. Our flat became a large hall, and somehow, I knew the visage was a memory.

He’s dead! I threw the gun. It skittered, rolled, and landed in a corner.

Next thing, I was locked in my bedroom with no memory of the journey there. I was resentful and angry, but not scared. Jon would be around in the morning to hug me and listen to my childish rants. He’d sort it out, like always—explain what was going on and make me feel better.

I fell asleep hugging my knees by the door and was woken sometime later by Korl.

What are you doing down there? he said. Get into bed.

I did as he demanded despite being stiff from cold. It didn’t matter Breen was hot during the day. Once the sun went down, the temperature plummeted. At last! You can’t ignore me forever. My voice shook from lack of sleep and delayed shock at the events from earlier.

He switched on the lamp. You’re so dramatic. Who’s ignoring you? He felt my ice-cold arm and groaned. Devi Bee, you’re shivering.

I didn’t feel well. What had happened in the kitchen didn’t seem real. Nothing made sense. It was as if the whole night had happened years before.

Did you see the soldier, Korl? What—what happened? Where’s Jon? Is he all right?

From the way my brother’s shoulders stiffened, it was obvious he’d heard and knew to what I referred. You’re freezing.

What do you expect? You abandoned me like dirt.

It was easy to be defiant. After all, Jon was in the next room and would stop anything bad from happening to me. In the morning, he’d make us hot chocolate and pancakes and laugh about what had happened; he would.

My thoughts led back to the gun. "Whose blood was it? What’s going on? I’m scared."

Korl flinched. No need to be. You could do with an extra layer. It’s sub-zero in here.

He left and carelessly dragged back a blanket from Jon’s room. It was the blue one with pictures of horses, my cousin’s favourite. I bought it for him last winter when it seemed the snow would never stop falling. We’d talked about where we wanted to ride on horseback. Because we didn’t have much money, every gift was precious. My cousin wouldn’t like Korl taking the blanket or dragging it across the floor.

Won’t Jon need that? Put it back, I said.

He won’t need it. He won’t mind.

Korl thoughtfully tucked me in and made jokes. He was indifferent to the events of a few hours before and even sang a stupid song about how to bath a cow. It incensed me, but I wasn’t ready to broach the subject of the gun or why my cousin had been so upset when I held it.

He will need the blanket! I want Jon. He wouldn’t lock me in. Is he all right?

He’s fine. I didn’t mean to shout or lock you in. I wanted you safe, Korl said.

And then, suddenly, I was ready and needed answers. Who did you kill tonight?

Calm down. I know it looked bad, but it was just an accident you shouldn’t have seen. I didn’t shoot anyone.

Why was there blood in the kitchen? I’m really scared.

It was true. I was terrified of the blood and what it represented. Haunted by the hallucination. Beyond the fear was something more… A creeping, writhing memory of guns, triggers, handles, and bullets.

My brother squinted and pulled at his earlobe. It meant he was considering how much to say or if he should tell the truth.

I jumped in. You might as well tell me. I’ll find out anyway.

"No need to start sneaking around because there is no body. Nothing happened but an accident. Again! Fools. They’ve taken her to hospital."

I sat up with mouth wide open in shock at my brother’s admission. You mean this has happened before?

Korl patted my cheek gently. Despite being a stupid oaf, he was often loving and affectionate. At least to me. I’m afraid so. Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort it out. Close your mouth, or are you catching flies? Ribbit, ribbit. Which reminds me—was it you who drew frogs inside my leather coat?

I ignored his ill-timed attempt at humour, although I’d drawn the frogs in his coat ages ago. What’s going to happen? You can’t go round shooting people! Tell me what happened?

My brother placed a flat palm on my chest and softly pushed me back flat. No, and no. It’s gang business, and it’s over. I try to keep a hand on Exer, but sometimes I can’t.

You’re a murderer. I hate you, I said bitterly.

My brother baulked. Don’t say that. It breaks my heart. Go to sleep. It’ll all be better tomorrow.

At the door, he hesitated before disappearing down the hall. I heard him say, Jon? You want a coffee?

I closed my eyes and planned how Jon and I could go into the woods the next day. Hunt for berries. Skim pebbles in the river. Listen to the birds. I shut a mental door on everything else.

Chapter Two

IT WASN’T OVER. Next morning, the flat was empty and quiet. My cousin’s bed was unslept in, and his bag and coat had disappeared. Jon was gone.

My brother had left me the stupidest note.

Party tonight. Get rid of the purple chair.

I ran from room to room searching for clues—evidence—anything.

I looked everywhere for Jon. Nothing. By lunchtime, I was desperate for evidence and crawled under Korl’s bed. At best, I’d hoped to find a goodbye letter or maybe the stub of a train ticket.

The dingy, cramped space was as dusty as a coffin. At first, it was too dark to see anything much except a thin film of chalk covering the floor and some smelly-looking socks. The middle floorboard had recently been disturbed.

Whilst rootling about, my hair snagged on a bed spring. I noticed a package in a dark corner, wrapped in a shirt.

It unravelled in a grotesque sequence. Gun—stain—gun—blood—blood—gun, gun, gun.

My mind hurtled to a horrific conclusion. A gun. My brother is a murderer. He’d killed someone the night before and Jon too.

As I fought for breath, the front door opened. I flung everything carelessly back under the bed. That time, the spring pulled out a chunk of hair, but I was too panicked to feel pain.

Korl would soon guess the reason I’d been crawling about on my hands and knees—chalky jeans and filthy hands. My brother was a turnip, but he was no fool. If I asked him outright, there was no way he’d tell the truth about what had happened to Jon. I’d have to be cleverer.

Using his dressmaking scissors, I cut a hole right between the shoulder blades of his best shirt. I figured it was as good a diversionary tactic as any other.

Afterwards, I folded the shirt exactly as it had been, buttons up front. Then I legged it to my own room, and waited.

I was lucky. Korl didn’t notice anything. By the time he sauntered in—wearing the hacked shirt—my jeans were free from telltale chalky evidence, though there were other telltale signs things were amiss.

’Lo, I said in a high-pitched squeak.

For all the world like a regular guy and not a murderer, he planted a resounding kiss on my cheek.

Devi Bee, favourite sister. Are you ready for the party? What’s up? You look like you’ve swallowed a crab.

"I’m your only sister," I said shakily.

And my best one.

He looked me up and down suspiciously but didn’t poke for answers. There was no time for a showdown anyway. I suppressed the image of the gun, and Jon, and got on with Kraken business.

The other members of the gang dutifully arrived and took their respective places around the table: Anees, Farlo, Tomi, and Bersha. The final space was empty but for a purple chair. Back when he was a decent person, Korl had painted an octopus with writhing tentacles on the seat. It belonged to Jon, who loved to pretend the octopus had gotten him. I could still hear the echoes of his laugh.

Despite the apocalyptic undercurrents, it was a calm enough party. Everyone made jokes and contributed to the ‘fun.’

I watched and waited for clues and evidence of my suspicions. It didn’t take long before the cracks appeared. After dinner, the gang fell quiet. They gaped at the octopus and maybe thought about who used to sit there.

By then, shock and despair had dripped into a boiling ball of rage. I hoped the chill got under the hole in Korl’s shirt and gave him a cold, if not pneumonia.

Terribly nice night. Isn’t it? I said tightly.

Terribly nice? Why are you talking that way? my brother asked, laughing.

It had been almost twenty-four hours since Jon’d vanished, and still, we hadn’t talked about it. Not Anees when she arrived with wine, or Farlo as he hung his coat on the peg where my cousin hooked his bag. Jon’s peg. Not even my brother, who used to claim Jon was his best friend.

Party tonight. Get rid of the purple chair.

THE PARTY MARKED a new stage of whatever ghastly and surreal phase the Kraken gang had entered.

Devi? Anees called, breaking my thoughts. Where’s your head tonight, love? Are you okay?

The events of the last twenty-four hours caught up and hit me hard. I felt shudderingly sick. I kept thinking about the gun wrapped in Jon’s blood. Jon, who I loved with all my heart.

Sorry. Daydreaming, I said, spluttering.

Maybe my loss of control rubbed off onto the Krakens because the talk faded, and everyone fiddled with cutlery.

Is it time to clear away? Let me. I gathered up the dirty dishes and deliberately dropped a glass. It broke into little pieces. The clamour snapped the final threads of my confusion. I wanted answers.

When I looked up from the mess, the family stared back through candlelight with glowing anglerfish faces. Korl sighed, but his eyes moved like a ball between ballplayers; this way and that, this way and that.

Devi, he snapped. You did it on purpose!

I didn’t. Silly old me. Butterfingers!

Just as I’d gathered myself to ask the dreaded question, my brother blindsided me. Clear it up. Bring the coffee through. You’re the Kraken cook now.

"But— No! Cooking is Jon’s job. I can’t cook. But," I said.

For as long as I could remember, the first job was making the coffee. Next, it was cooking, for me anyway. Others could become a bodyguard, to join with Anees and Farlo. Unlucky family members could end up a dogsbody, like Tomi and Bersha.

If you were really unlucky, like my poor cousin, you could be dead.

My questions died away. I got the coffee tray and stumbled back to the party, where everyone’s gaze was on me. Tomi got up to help and patted my cheek. They took what they wanted from the tray and sat back around the long table.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do next, whether I should sit or remain standing. My thinking wasn’t right. Jon used to say, Devi, relax. You own that body. No need to look like you’ve stolen it.

The colours of the room faded, along with my choices. All remaining was hollowness, dread, and the echoes of Jon’s laughter. I wished I were still a child, playing with bubbles and plastic merfolk.

Korl patted the purple seat as if our lovely cousin had never existed. Sit. He smiled wolfishly. "Have some coffee.