The moment you've all been waiting for....
Drew appears!
Okay, fine, so I had one reviewer ask when she was going to show.
I did say it was mostly about Doyle, though, didn't I?
I don't own Drew. I don't own the Secret Saturdays. I do own the Mulo Clan, the Tibetan Monks, Fae, and Corbin's household.
Et cetera.
And...the Grey Men and Van Rook's involvement aside, this is first instance that shows why I named this story "Ships in the Night."
I'd originally called it "Sod's Law" (look it up in your Wiktionary), but I think "Ships in the Night," though slightly inaccurate, has a better ring to it.
What do you think? Agree? Disagree?
Timing: a month-ish following the previous chapter. Late fall, maybe early winter.
Stray
A teenage girl traveled with her protectors through yet another village.
They found it difficult to acquire supplies in the villages; information was impossible.
In one of the villages, they were told to speak to Faizura Tailor, but they arrived at the woman's house in time to see her run off with a letter.
The sight of the woman's backside was probably the friendliest greeting they'd received.
The villagers gave the girl strange looks. It was only the presence of her protectors, Tibetan monks who were granted respect even by those who did not follow their ways, that kept those looks and muttered remarks from turning vicious.
"I doubt he's come this way," one of the monks said to the girl, during one such visit. His voice was tense with anger. "Sounds like these people would have run him off the moment they laid eyes on him."
"How come they're not friendly?" the girl asked.
"Lots of people in these parts don't take kindly to Romani," a stranger replied. "You want anything useful from the gadje, you want to leave the girl behind."
The two monks turned to face the stranger. "She is under our protection, sir," the younger monk said. "We cannot simply—"
The stranger shrugged. He looked very tired. "I see that. And I'm telling you, children have been disappearing from the clans in the past few years. Our own warriors can't even protect them anymore, and you people are not warriors."
The younger monk scowled. "We are capable of taking care of ourselves—"
"I don't doubt that," the stranger interrupted. "But a warrior can take care of himself and his own even while he takes care of the enemy. Your people are not warriors."
"You have a suggestion?" the girl said.
"Come with me," the stranger replied. "Stay with my clan for a few days, let some of our warriors lead these fellows around."
The older monk started to protest, and the stranger cut him off with a wave.
"People around here don't much like Romani, but there's some as will talk. My clan can tell you who to trust, or at least who won't act on their dislike."
"Then I thank, you, sir," the girl replied, before either monk could speak. "We accept your offer."
—
"All right, you mutts, we've got ourselves some new guests," the man called out.
Several men and women came out of hiding. A few relaxed their grip on their weapons, though none disarmed themselves.
The two monks spoke to each other in low tones; they were not pleased with this greeting.
The man overheard their remarks. "I did say that our children have been disappearing," he said. "You cannot fault us for being ready to fight, can you?"
"No, I suppose not," the younger one muttered.
The man nodded. He turned back to the warriors. "This chej is—" He glanced down at the girl. "Sorry, I never did hear your name."
She smiled. "Drew Blackwell."
He nodded. "The young lady is Drew Blackwell, and these chavo are—hold it, Blackwell?" He stared at her in shock.
A stir went among the warriors. They repeated the name among themselves, around and around until it seemed the very wind spoke.
"What—what's the matter?" Drew asked, looking at the warriors. "I'm sorry, I don't—I don't know your dialect. I don't understand...." The monks also stared, uncertain if they should worry about this behavior.
One of the warriors came forward and spoke in whispers with the man who had led Drew there.
The man nodded and the warrior ran off down the path.
The man who had led Drew and the monks gestured for them to follow, and he continued down the path at a slower pace.
—
"What is your purpose?" their original guide, who was the clan's Rom Baro, asked Drew. "Why do you travel in these parts?" He glanced at the two monks, then back at Drew, before adding, "Alone?"
"She's not alone," the younger monk protested. "We—"
"I am alone," Drew interrupted. "He wants to know why I'm not with my clan." She turned her gaze to the Rom Baro. "My family has traveled a lot outside my father's clan. We might still have other family, but the only clan I know is my parents and my brother."
She blinked back tears. "A few years ago, we traveled again, just the four of us. We were in the Himalayas, and a storm hit. I—the storm blew me away, and these people, these monks found me and took care of me. Some of them found the camp, and they told me—they told me—" She shivered. The older monk pulled her close and let her cry into his shoulder.
"Her parents died in that storm," the younger monk continued. "We never did find her brother. She has wanted to look for him in all that time, but she has only just recovered from her own ordeal." He smiled, though even his eyes glistened with tears. "She has...she has held on to the hope that he has survived, perhaps made it down the mountain. We have been searching in the hope that someone might have seen him."
The warrior who'd run off before set a small box in front of them. Inside the box were pictures Corbin had given them.
Drew wiped her eyes and glanced at the box. Then she gasped, and dumped it out and dug through the pictures. "Doyle!" She looked up at the clan Elders. "You have seen him!" Their expressions remained grim, and her smile faded. "You—you do know where he is...don't you?"
The Rom Baro beckoned the warrior forward, and they spoke in their other dialect. The warrior nodded, and the Rom Baro returned his attention to the visitors.
"My nephew," the Rom Baro said, indicating the warrior, "tells me that this boy has been fostered by a man in one of the villages. He will take one of your monks to speak with this man. You, chej, must remain here while they are gone."
"Why can't I go with them?" Drew asked.
"The villages about are not especially friendly to Romani," the Rom Baro reminded her.
"So what?" she countered. "You'll either have to let me go to my brother, or bring him to me. If you're worried about children disappearing, wouldn't it make more sense for me to go?"
"There have been other problems, of late," the warrior replied. "The disappearances are serious, yes, but your brother has not had the best of luck in dealing with the gadje. You may accompany us once Corbin understands your mission, but until then, it would be best if I do not bring too many strangers."
"I'm not a stranger," Drew protested, "I'm his sister!"
"You are a stranger to Corbin," the warrior replied.
—
While the warrior and the younger monk were gone, Drew spent her time watching the other warriors at their training. When one of them saw her interest, she was invited to join, and they remarked at how quickly she learned.
When their chovihano returned from dealing with another clan and learned of her identity, he demanded that the Rom Baro allow him to speak with her. She was interested in speaking to him, and disappointed that he only wanted to know what she remembered of the storm. When she insisted that she'd been blown away by the storm, he asked if he could set a trance on her to confirm her memories.
She agreed.
What he learned seemed to trouble him, but he did not tell her why; he merely sent her along back to the warriors.
"She does not know what happened," the chovihano said, watching the girl spar with the warriors.
The wise woman hid a smile; though old, she was silent as a cat, yet the chovihano still sensed her approach. "What does she know of it?"
The chovihano shrugged. "She was swept away in the winds, the monks found her, tended to her injuries, and came to her with the news."
"And they?" the wise woman asked.
"The monks know nothing of it," he replied. "They know her parents died in the storm; they suspect the creature, that they call a Yeti, but the monks believe that if her parents had survived the Yeti, it was to simply freeze to death in the storm."
"Technically true," the wise woman muttered.
The chovihano nodded. "But a lie for all the help it gives. If there is evidence to the truth of their deaths, these two do not know it."
"Will you tell the girl?"
"No," the chovihano replied. "Simply knowing her parents are dead is hard enough for her, yet she forces herself to cope, so that she may look for her brother. I do not wish to deceive her, but I will not add another trauma to that."
"You may need to," another woman said.
The chovihano turned to see Fae approaching, with the warrior and the younger monk trailing behind.
—
"Is that the girl?" Fae asked, pointing to Drew in the middle of the warriors.
The older monk came up at their approach. He spoke to the younger monk, but the younger merely shook his head.
"Drew!" the younger monk called out.
Drew extracted herself from the warriors and came running. She slowed her steps only when she caught their downcast expressions. "What happened?"
"Corbin was not there," the warrior explained, "but this woman, Fae, was at his home."
Fae sat down on the ground and gestured for Drew to do the same. "Over a month ago, Corbin had reason to believe that Doyle was...in danger. There were people watching him, people that he felt might mean the boy harm. More than this prejudice against Romani," she added upon seeing the clan's expressions. "These grey demons, perhaps."
"Grey demons?" Drew repeated.
"The clan believes they are responsible for some of the disappearances," the chovihano said, "though as we've learned, not all."
Fae nodded. "Thanks to the clan, Corbin had learned that Doyle—that you—had family, a clan in France, as I recall—"
"My grandfather!" Drew said.
"Yes," Fae replied. "Corbin arranged for his closest friend to take the boy there, in the hopes that these grey demons would lose the trail."
Drew looked around in confusion. "What's the problem, then? So all I've got to do is go to France—"
The younger monk shook his head. "It is not that simple."
"I received a letter just a week ago," Fae replied. "About their trip. It—once I'd seen it, I had to show Corbin immediately."
"That's why you ran off?" Drew asked. Fae blinked in surprise, and Drew tried to explain, "In one of the villages, they told us to talk to Faizura Tailor, only when we got to your house, we saw you running off."
"Off to Corbin's place," Fae agreed. "And I think I need to show you that letter, as well."
Fae pulled around a pack from her back, and pulled an envelope out of the pack and handed it to Drew.
Drew opened the envelope and skimmed through it easily. Her parents had taught them many languages; the monks had taught her many more.
She tripped over a few words—not that she had trouble understanding, but that she couldn't believe them. She read through the letter, and the newspaper clipping, four more times before handing them back. "The...the train....de—" She swallowed. "Derailed?"
"Left the track," Fae replied, "just inside of France."
"How—" The chovihano stared. This was the first he'd heard of it. "How many?"
"Doyle is among the few who are not accounted for—yet," Fae said. "But not one person was found alive. Not the crew, not the passengers.... Not Benton," she added in a whisper. "Not one."
Drew stared at the ground for several minutes. The older monk tried to speak to her, but she waved him off.
Finally she looked up. "He's alive."
"Drew, you saw what kind of damage—" the younger monk began.
"No," Drew snapped. "My brother is alive. They haven't found him dead, so he's alive."
Fae smiled. "You sound like Zander."
"Zander?" Drew asked.
"Corbin's son. After deciding that the boy was in danger, they'd planned on coming along after, soon as they were able. When I showed them the letter, they decided to leave sooner yet." Fae smiled. "Zander believes he'd know it the instant if something worse happened to Doyle. And I believe him."
"So I'll go with them—" Drew began.
"No," Fae said. "They have already left. Your monks missed them by only a day."
Thus ends the "Stray" arc.
Woo-hoo! I finished the arc before chapter 30!
Wait. Am I supposed to be happy about that? I don't know....
Though for some reason, I expected this chapter to be a lot shorter.
*shrug*
Next we get to see what became of Doyle after the train wreck, as well as the final (generic) "animals behave strangely" secret—and the first point where details may split according to the "main" storyline.
We also see one of the dangers Drew faces while trying to find her brother, and how Van Rook gets involved....
And we see what else goes wrong with Anzu's plans, leaving numerous characters wishing that their timing was a little bit better.
Speaking of timing:
I'd originally thought to have Drew show up the day after Benton and Doyle left. I figured that might work with the whole "Sod's Law/Ships in the Night" theme.
Then I got thinking, this arc takes place in the mid-80's, they're traveling by train, there was the distance they have to travel (never mind that I still don't know where he was; it's quite a distance from France, as far as I'm concerned), then the news would have to travel back the same distance before Drew showed up....
Not exactly realistic. A month was pushing it as it is.
So I worked out some other reasons for the "SL/SN" notion of the timing....