Deep Waters

top of it and propelled herself over in a mad dive.
    She crashed into Jennifer. They fell to the floor and rolled. Jennifer landed on top and immediately attempted to get her long-nailed fingers around Charity's throat.
    She succeeded.
    Charity gasped for air and struggled desperately to pry Jennifer's fingers away from her throat. She was hopelessly outclassed. Jennifer had the advantage of height, weight, and a longer reach.
    For an instant, everything went gray as panic welled up inside Charity. She could feel Jennifer's fingers tightening and knew a terrible sense of impending doom.
    And then, as if he were standing beside her, giving instructions in a calm, dark voice that pierced the blinding fear, Charity recalled the simple self-defense moves Elias had begun to teach her.
    Do not seek to block the onrushing tide. Instead, create another path for the water.
    Charity stopped trying to pit her strength against Jennifer's. Going against her own instincts, she released her opponent's wrists. She shoved her hands straight up between her attacker's arms, aiming for Jennifer's eyes.
    Jennifer cried out and leaned back to avoid Charity's stabbing fingers.
    Charity gulped air as Jennifer's fingers loosened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the flashlight that Elias had left on the shelf below the counter. She reached out, grabbed it, and slashed wildly at Jennifer's head.
    Jennifer yelled and tried to duck the blow. The flashlight caught her on the cheek and sent her spinning away.
    Charity swung the flashlight again and connected with Jennifer's skull. Jennifer lurched to the side. Charity rolled free and started to scramble to her feet. She was on her knees when she heard footsteps pounding toward her.
    "What the hell is going on back there?" Davis yelled.
    "Let me go, damn you." Jennifer's cry was a keening wail. "Let me go."
    Charity blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening.
    "Are you all right?" Elias asked. Holding Jennifer with one hand, he looked down at Charity. His face was cold and savage.
    "Yes. Yes, I think so." Charity rose cautiously. She was shaking so badly that she had to steady herself with one hand on the counter.
    Elias released Jennifer and reached for Charity.
    Jennifer collapsed, limp and defeated. She clutched her head and burst into great shuddering sobs.
    Charity stared at Elias. "I heard footsteps. Thought it was Davis."
    "I'm right here." Davis rounded the end of the counter. "Elias moves a little faster than I do." He touched Charity's face. "Jesus. I don't believe this. Are you okay?"
    She nodded and gave him a weak smile. "Thanks to Otis and Elias. Oh, my God, that reminds me. Better check on Otis."
    There was a disgruntled squawk from the vicinity of the office doorway. Everyone except Jennifer turned to look.
    Otis swaggered out of the shadows. His feathers were ruffled, but he was obviously unhurt. He came to a halt and waited imperiously for someone to offer him a lift up to his perch.
    Charity gazed at him with admiration. "It was the most incredible thing. Otis hurled himself straight at Jennifer. She was going to shoot me. He distracted her. Made her drop the gun. He gave me the chance I needed. Gentlemen, that bird saved my life."

    Elias woke shortly before dawn. He lay quietly for a moment, intensely aware of the empty place beside him on the futon. Charity had gone home to her own cottage with Davis after Tybern had finished asking his endless questions. Elias had been obliged to go home alone with only Otis for companionship.
    At one time he would have been able to convince himself that Otis was all the company he needed. But this morning, as he watched the sky lighten to pale gray, he realized that was no longer true.
    A dam had broken somewhere inside him. The river of loneliness flowed freely. The surging current bore memories that he did not want to examine. He'd had the experience before. He knew how to stem the raging tide.
    But this time he did not go through the disciplined mental exercises designed to send the images downstream. Instead, he made himself look more closely at the reflections on the water.
    He saw his mother's white, lifeless face just before the ambulance attendants covered her. His grieving grandparents floated past next. The figures were so consumed by their own sense of loss that they had little energy to spare for their grandson. He saw himself waiting for the letter that never came, the one that would tell him that his father wanted