Rogue Horizon: The Record, Book 6

Rogue Horizon Reviews

Rogue Horizon Excerpt:

Sarah’s transport, while still barf worthy, was less sidelining than Chelsea’s, so I added a cryptic comment into my notebook before heading along the weathered dock to the crusty shrimp boat at the end. At one point, I’m sure she was a sleek ship, painted and shiny, but now you could smell her at two hundred yards, every inch a faded workhorse. I squinted, making out the words ‘Big Hauler’ in bleached red on the bow’s side. Which made sense. Lester was a legend when it came to shrimp. His knowledge of this section of the ocean outstripped most.

The sky remained leaden, a pale yellow sun trying as we reached the boat. Lester’s face, filled with wind burnt furrows earned from staring at horizons for money, wasn’t the cheeriest countenance when happy, but his expression stopped my feet. 

“That good, huh? If so, I’m grateful for the invite, Lester. May we board?”

“I considered canceling, Patra. I know you have a weird job and this might help, but whatever drives that storm,” he pointed a finger thick from years of labor, “ain’t fucking natural.”

“Then, between your knowledge and mine, we’ll make headway. This is Sarah. Do you remember Parker?

“I do. He did that Keeper thing with you, right? Seems crazy to manage our new, weird ass world by yourselves.”

“Sarah was chosen to replace Parks when he died.” 

“I was sorry to hear about the kid. Shitty way to get a promotion, honey.” His gaze slid to me. “Patra, you got a dangerous line of work.”

I waved around his boat. “And you don’t? When life is dicey, we stand up and handle whatever must be done.”

“True.”

He hauled his lines, and we bobbed, riding high in an empty vessel, through the calm inland waters of Ponce Inlet. Fifteen minutes later, we approached the mouth. There, the waves crashed and cascaded, a treacherous crisscross resembling an opening for a gigantic mer. I shuddered, staring into the smashing water, unable to shake the ominous squeeze against my heart. Poseidon’s voice tickled my brain. ‘Of course I have monsters, but I never use them against ships. Well, not in a very long time’. 

Define long, Red. 

What happens if the magical world loses touch with sanity as the immortals transcend? How many forms of magic have I not encountered? Or any Keeper for that matter? A sense of extreme dread goose bumped my skin. I wasn’t worried about Gaia’s kids, monsters in their own right, since she clarified her place in the order as maintaining the creation. Her brood would keep doing that good work. But what other creatures writhed beneath the keel of this boat? Trod with heavy intent in the forests and deserts? What ancient agreements kept them from marauding? If the immortal who extracted that promise became a gaudy stone statue somewhere, how screwed was the rest of creation?

“Are you OK?” The wind stole Sarah’s voice, and I jumped, startled. 

“What’s up with your eyes?” Lester stared at me. “You’re glowing like a demon in a Hollywood special effect flick.”

Uncertainty ruled my brain. How do I explain the multitude of layers to my human brethren? I watched the horizon as the bow pushed through unending waves. I knew the anti-vertigo should cover any seasickness, so I braced my feet and straightened, letting my head go quiet as the pictures rose. Green predominated and appeared filled with flying, diving forms, zinging against the wall of blue. Below, dark clouds roiled, and the waterspouts moved, whirling the grey and sucking in blue and green bits. 

Fuck. It’s my countertop, built out to scale. See everything, Patra. Breathe.

Boats, of course, never meet the horizon, but as the shore faded to a tiny strip, the storm’s howl rose. Sarah’s eyes widened as a fierce wailing swamped the deck, a shrill keening of loss so great that hearing it triggered grief in my heart. Within the storm’s blue side, cracks and pops of light snapped, and many of the zipping green sparks extinguished. For every one that flickered and died, two replaced it and the purplish sky heaved, tornadic. 

Gaia is an oracle herself. Holy Hades, is this fucking normal? I figured it was story hour. I thought wrong.

The fallen sparkles landed into the grey, a writhing whirl whose pathos of song dropped Lester to his knees, gnarled hands tight over his ears. Sarah stayed on her feet, but the keening shook her body with violent spasms, and she shrieked in pain. 

Why doesn’t the wail hurt me? I’ve been messed up for months.

Huh. I reached out, gripping her hand as our rings connected. The sound muted. 

“That’s not a coincidence,” Sarah ground out, pulling her spine straight.

Good girl.

“Nope. Not one bit.” 

We stared as the drilling bolts of lightning sizzled into the churning sea. Ozone, cut with undertones of salt and earth, filled my nose. More than Zeus? How? The moment our pinky rings touched, greyish figures wavered into view. Stone gods, piles of death, and desperate humans trying to claw their way out of the grey zone toward the colors. 

“To both sides. Why? Humanity isn’t monolithic?” 

Shit. I’m an idiot. 

I turned my attention to the blue side of the storm, a shuddering upheaval of energy. With a squint, I focused on the bottom edge where blue met grey. Sparks of extinguished green continued to fall, but humans pulled themselves through the blend of colors, helped each other, and added their hue to the burgeoning shades of indigo. 

My eyes returned to the green side. Humans struggled there, too, but continued to climb. Sadie pointed high, and I leaned backward, one hand shoved into the small of my back for balance. In the highest heights of the clouds, vast lights of various shades pulsed, tinged green, blue, yellow, and red.

Gods. This is the breakdown. Dammit.

I stared, eyes blazing, and committed the scene in its entirety to memory. If the storm portends as an oracle of sorts, it’s clear that to come together, the races first must blow apart. Lester tapped my shoulder and a gigantic bolt heaved into the sea less than a mile from us. 

“No captains go farther than this, Patra. Not this week. The one that did, sank. Time to leave.”

I nodded, feeling the focus skitter. I was losing clarity, but what I saw shook me to my core. A magical meltdown of epic proportions? I’d figured one was on deck, but humanity? That wrinkle required an explanation. 

First, a session with the record, so what I saw wasn’t lost. Then I needed to talk to someone who might refuse the conversation. Plus, while I knew where he was, I didn’t have any way of requesting it, and based on the heavy weight of dread in my chest, I couldn’t shake the sense of being too late. 

It’s as if the information kept coming, but even fresh, it was old. Could I get in front of a target zinging so fast, the changes it caused are a blur? By the time I learned additional facts, I was relegated to the clean-up crew.

I wish I knew how.

The crosshatches at the inlet’s mouth smashed fountains of water into the air. Lester watched the waves, eyes on the wind moving the spray, and navigated through the worst of it while Sarah and I clung to railings in the cockpit, our feet leaving the deck as we pitched and dropped. 

“Holy moly,” she breathed. “You picked one hell of a way to earn a living, Lester.”

“Most days, it’s freedom,” he shrugged. “But the sea has moods; she’s like the rest of us. Best you can do is not be stupid.”

Big Hauler slid into the calmer waters of the inlet. Lester pulled his phone and tapped, then turned it around to face me. “Thought you should see yourself.”

My face and hair framed two blazes that filled the eye sockets of my skull. No eyeballs to be seen. Even in the photograph’s stillness, movement whirled. I looked like this? Zeus in a thong, am I still human? I’m, well, creepy looking.

“Yikes.”

“Maybe you can’t change it, but at least you know not to unleash Miss Twinklefest around little kids.”

No shit. I rubbed my head. My recovering hair stood on end all the damn time, a constant compliment to my sparkle pony eyeballs. “Lester, what have you seen since the storm appeared that’s new or weird?”

“Other than you being green? That one took me by surprise.”

I shrugged. My current fashion statement made the papers, TV news, and social media. Lester must live under a rock.

“Hazards of the job, Les.” I cocked my head. He was avoiding my gaze. Which might be due to a myriad of reasons, but I suspected he wanted to avoid being branded a crackpot.

“Whatever you saw, Lester, I won’t doubt you. I’ve seen shit that’ll make you poop your pants.”

Sun bleached blue eyes met mine, and I watched him decide, weighing the simplicity of pretending it was a freak pass of blinding sunlight versus flinging open the truth of terror. Lester was a courageous man. Most people who braved the capriciousness of the ocean’s whims and her willingness to kill them on a mild sunny day usually were. 

The meager sunset dropped beyond the trees as the last of the pelicans floated to their islands. A little muscle in his cheek twitched, and he blew out a breath. 

“The first night, as the storm rose, Big Hauler was fishing three miles out. A tentacle as wide as this boat broke the water’s surface, Patra.” He rubbed his face, then grabbed me by both shoulders with shaking hands. I watched fear pool in his old soul eyes.

“I saw the damn Kraken.”