Children of the Sea 02 - Sea Fever

syringe in hand.
     
    Oh, shit, Regina thought as the doctor lunged at her with the needle.
     
    *
     
    Dylan held Nick’s hand as they walked up the hill to the restaurant.
    He needed the touch as much as the boy did.
     
    The sense of wrongness had been building since they left the island bunker. It throbbed like a headache at the base of his skull, tightened his gut, drove at his heels.
     
    Beside him, Nick stumbled.
     
    Dylan gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to scoop him up and run with him like a football. The kid had been jounced around enough for one night. “You all right?” he asked for what must have been the fifth or fiftieth time in an hour.
     
    Nick stuck out his chin in a gesture that reminded Dylan poignantly of Regina. “Sure. I’m tough,” he boasted.
     
    That was what Dylan had told him on the boat. “Pretty tough kid,”
    he’d said, and the boy had grinned and relaxed against him.
     
    Now Dylan ruffled his hair, adjusting his stride to the boy’s much shorter steps. “A regular hero.”
     
    Nick scuffled his feet along the road. “I didn’t see anything, though,”
    he said to his shoes in the dark. “I didn’t do anything to stop them.”
     
    Dylan had saved the crime scene questions for his brother, the police chief. But he’d heard enough to guess that Nick’s abductor had laid some
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    kind of sleep on the boy from the moment of his capture. It was a mercy for the boy, Dylan considered. And a damned inconvenience for the rest of them. If somebody out there was still possessed, was still a threat, he had to be dealt with.
     
    “Nothing you could do,” he said, nudging the kid forward. Not much farther now. “Hard to put up much of a fight when you’re unconscious.”
     
    Nick slid him a sideways glance. “Was it Jericho?”
     
    Dylan heard the fear in the boy’s voice and tried to reassure him.
    “No. Jericho’s in jail.”
     
    “Will whoever did it . . .” Nick’s voice trembled. “Will he come back?”
     
    Dylan tightened his hold on the boy’s small hand. “No,” he said, flat and sure.
     
    Not if he had to ward every building, rock, and tree on the island. He could be stuck here for months. Years.
     
    The prospect didn’t bother him as much as it should have.
     
    They reached the center street of town, parked cars, silent storefronts, and flower boxes spilling fragrance in the dark. Dylan could see the red awning of the restaurant and Regina’s apartment windows glowing like the promise of home. He lengthened his stride again.
     
    “It was my fault,” Nick mumbled from beside him, interrupting Dylan’s pleasant fantasy of Regina demonstrating exactly how grateful she was for the return of her son. “Getting kidnapped.”
     
    Dylan frowned down at the top of his head. Okay, they really didn’t have time for this. “No, it wasn’t. The kidnappers were bigger than you and stronger than you.” Immortal. Inhuman. “There wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it.”
     
    “I shouldn’t have gone outside without telling.” Nick’s voice was miserable as he tugged his hand away. He stopped and turned to meet Dylan’s gaze, his eyes brave and determined. “I was mad at Mom.” He swallowed and admitted jerkily, “And you.”
     
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    The way Dylan had once been mad at his own father.
     
    Dylan closed his eyes a moment, the pounding in his head threatening to split his skull. He should have seen this coming. He really wished this moment could have waited until he got the kid home to his mother.
     
    But when he opened his eyes, the boy was still staring at him, waiting for his response, searching for judgment or absolution.
     
    He had to say something. Do something.
     
    Please, God, don’t let me fuck this up. “Sometimes,” he said carefully, “when you’re growing up, you do stupid stuff. Stuff you regret.
    But you can’t keep beating yourself up over it. You’ve got to learn from your mistakes and move on.”
     
    Nick cocked his head curiously. “Did you ever run away?”
     
    Dylan nodded. “When I was a little older than you are. But I’m not going to anymore.”
     
    Nick snickered. “You can’t run away anymore. You’re a grown-up.”
     
    “Yeah.” Dylan cleared his throat. “That’s my point.”
     
    They started up the road again, side by side. Almost there, Dylan thought.
     
    “But you ever scare your mom like that again, I’ll whip your ass,” he said.
     
    Nick looked at him,