Right now I wished I was more like her. I wished I believed that Dad was going to make it.
Instead I could see myself with no parents. Our house, even more empty than it was now. Rooms with echoes of people that had been stolen.
I stood up and wandered, aimless, away from the waiting room and the people who had gathered to support me. I could feel him following me. My best friend in the world. The one who had been about to kiss me when all this had happened.
I swirled around and faced him, anger surfacing. I wasn’t mad at him, but he was about to get it, smack in the face, nonetheless.
“Why is this happening?” I demanded. I could feel the space in the hallway closing in around me. “Why my father? Wasn’t losing my mother and my sister enough?”
Heat rushed over me, my lips felt numb and my heartbeat sped up—but I fought it. I wasn’t going to give in to this feeling of helplessness. The heat remained, flushed my skin and Sean frowned, shook his head. He wanted to help me, I know he did, but really, what could he do?
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, taking a step closer.
I think he was going to put his arms around me, but I pushed him away, took two big gulps of air and stumbled backward. Then, suddenly, I couldn’t breathe, and my skin was burning, like I was on fire. Tears welled in my eyes.
My dad was in the operating room, but I was the one who was having a major meltdown.
I covered my face with my hands and tried to block out the world. Light seeped in, dim and weak and pale green. It licked around my fingers, refusing to let me be. Meanwhile every breath became more difficult, until I could hear my lungs wheezing. I sank to my knees and realized that Sean had his arm around my shoulders.
“Kira—are you all right? Your skin—”
He didn’t say any more. He didn’t need to.
I pulled my hands away from my face. My fingers and palms were covered with tiny green scales, beautiful and horrible at the same time.
“Kira, can you hear me?”
I nodded, slowly, my lips trembling. Well, I had wanted to talk to him about this and, now, here he was, watching me turn into a monster, right before his eyes. I forced myself to remember my conversation with Gram earlier, went over all the steps she had read to me from one of her books. I couldn’t look at Sean. Not now. I couldn’t bear to see the repulsion in his eyes.
Focus. One slow breath at a time.
Dad’s going to be okay.
And so am I. Just slow down and focus and change back.
Skin, human skin.
Sean was still there, his arm around me.
Everything is going to be all right.
I took one long breath, clean and pure and filled with the stench of antiseptic. Then I glanced down at my hands.
Normal skin. Finally.
I hugged my knees to my chest and wept, a long soul-shattering cry that shook the universe and rearranged constellations and made stars fall from the sky.
•
Your opinion on life and truth and beauty can change in an instant. Everything can be transformed. Darkness can replace light, despair can replace hope. Just one piece of information and you can suddenly feel like an alien in your own skin, like your life will never get better.
It’s a turning point.
And I was right in the midst of one.
When I finally stood up again, I realized that I hated my mother. She was the one who had made me this way. This was her skin I was wearing, her curse.
At the same time, I realized that none of this mattered to Sean. To him, I was somehow still the same person as before.
He wrapped his arms around me and held me until I stopped crying. Then, finally, he took my chin in his hand and he lifted it until he could kiss me. The kiss I had been wanting for so long was finally here and it was scary in a way, because I felt naked and vulnerable.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you. You tried to talk to me about this the other night,” he whispered when our lips parted, as if he didn’t want anyone else to know my secret. As if he would guard it forever, if necessary.
I didn’t know what to say, so we just stood there for a long time, in silence. Not quite best friends anymore. We were something else now, although I don’t think either one of us knew what yet. Was he my boyfriend or was he my familiar or was he just the best friend anyone had ever had? Whatever he was, it didn’t matter. I didn’t have to put a label on everything to understand it.
“We should probably go check on my dad,” I said. We stood side by side now, his fingers laced in mine.
“Yeah.”
I gave him a half-smile. He was still the strong, silent type and I loved that about him. He never felt a need to fill in the empty spaces with words. Together we turned and headed back toward the waiting room. I realized that I had the same feeling now as when I’d stood beside him at Brianna’s party the other night.
It was him and me against the world.
We rounded a corner and I could see a portion of that big sterile room up ahead, the garish fluorescent lights making everyone look like an extra from The Night of The Living Dead. Gram was there, her knitting idle in her lap, her attention focused on something or someone that I couldn’t see yet.
Then Father Sullivan came into view. He stood in front of Gram like a tall, dark shadow, the two of them deep in conversation.
My grip on Sean’s hand tightened.
My feet wouldn’t move, like I’d stepped in quick-drying cement. I couldn’t go forward or backward, I was stuck there, trying not to think about what I saw up ahead. All the while, an unquenchable sorrow filled me.
There was no hope. There couldn’t be.
Not if the priest was here.
Chapter 40
Caleb:
The car spun over darkened roads, headlights snarling through tangles of fog that rose up from the cliffs and the ocean, far below. We were headed toward the hospital, Brianna, Riley and I, although only one of us truly knew the reason why. Sean had called Brianna half an hour ago and as soon as Riley heard the news, she had run into the ocean and screamed.
Almost like Mare had done the other day, Riley stood waist-deep in the water, her arms raised to the heavens.
Immediately the wind began to blow from the wrong direction. It scuffed across my skin, made me wary and ill-at-ease. Every nerve ending hung raw and abraded, a sudden deep sorrow anchored in my soul.
It felt like Ethan had died, all over again.
There, in the water in front of me, Riley wept and moaned, her haunting cry causing the waves to toss and curl, and the clouds to swirl overhead. She started to tremble, her hands and arms first, until her whole body shook, and at the same time, a storm brewed in the distance.
I stood at the edge of the water with the other Selkies, Patrick on my right, Sorcha on my left. From time to time we would glance at one another in astonishment.
Riley had been given the greatest gift of all. Only those with the purest royal bloodlines had the ability to control the weather. Wars could be won by using this skill alone.
Meanwhile, the surface of the sea became a living creature, growing and snarling, merging with the clouds; the surrounding sky darkened, fists of lightning punching outward. Just then the tempest began to move toward a small boat on the horizon.
“No!” I shouted, but my voice couldn’t be heard above the storm. I plunged into the water and grabbed Riley by the arms, tried to make her hold still. “Stop!”
Meanwhile, the wild spout of water and wind continued to grow louder until it drowned out all other sound. The water spout grew taller, reaching high into the heavens. And there, just on the edge of the torrent, the boat rocked from side to side, ready to capsize at any moment.
“Riley, you have to stop or the people on that boat will die!” I had to scream to be heard over the storm. “What’s wrong?”
I pulled her toward me. Her arms dropped to her side, tears spilled down her cheeks. All around us, the storm froze in plac
e like a painting. Riley looked confused as if I should have known exactly why she was doing this. Her head cocked to one side and her brow furrowed.
“He’s dying,” she said.
“Who?”
“My father.” She stared into my eyes and, for the first time, I saw her not as an adversary, but as a young, grief-stricken woman. Her pain was so intense it pierced my own heart.
“I don’t understand.”
“I came back to see him—” But her voice choked with emotion and she couldn’t finish her sentence.
Just then I saw Brianna standing in the water behind us, as if afraid to approach. “I can take you to see him,” she offered, her voice low, her gaze fixed upon the unmoving squall held in place around us.
Riley pushed me aside, then stared at Brianna.
“Yes, take me there,” Riley pleaded.
Then she faced the storm again, only this time her cry was like a song, beautiful and mournful. Almost immediately, the tempest slowed and the clouds broke up. The waves continued to curl around the edge of the boat, only now they held it aloft and upright until the surface of the sea calmed. Riley’s wail softened then, bleeding off into a sob. The storm dissolved into a thin mist of sea spray that washed over us, drenching us.
Her cheeks were wet from tears and ocean spray.
She looked helpless now and, for the first time, I felt an allegiance to her. Whatever was happening, I couldn’t let her face it alone.
“I’m going with you,” I said.
Chapter 41
Kira:
I fell back into Sean’s arms, afraid to take another step. Father Sullivan made the sign of the cross, his hand briefly touching his head, his heart, then each shoulder. His mouth began to move, silent words pouring out. Gram’s eyes closed and her lips moved in synch with his.
“Why is he here?” I asked, turning to face Sean.
“Who?”
“Father Sullivan. It means my dad is dying, doesn’t it? It means he needs last rites.”
“No, Kira. Besides, they wouldn’t do that out here in the hallway.” Sean took my hands and held them firm, his heat flowing into me, strengthening me. “He probably came to comfort you and your grandma. It doesn’t mean that anything bad has happened.”
I peered around him, at the dark pool of shadows that seemed to surround the priest and Gram.
“We should go talk to him,” he said.
“I’m afraid.”
“Kira—”
“No, he knows something,” I said. “Something about me and my cross and me being a Selkie. And now he’s here and I don’t want to know what might have happened to Dad—”
Sean took me by the arm and gently started to pull. “We need to find out if they have any news. Maybe the surgery is over.”
I looked up at him.
“It could be good news.”
I nodded, reluctantly. Then we moved together, step by step, across the gleaming linoleum, toward that chasm of fluorescent light and plastic furniture, and all the while I was hoping that Gram would lift her head and see me.
That she would smile.
And then I would know that everything was going to be all right.
Chapter 42
Caleb:
None of us talked throughout the drive to the hospital. We had to go to Monterey, a larger city with better medical facilities, I think that was what Brianna said when we got in the car. Fog swirled around us, as if Riley’s storm refused to abandon her.
Every time I glanced out the window, I saw lightning flash somewhere on the ocean horizon. As the sun grew closer to setting, the clouds furrowed and spread across the darkening heavens, until at last they covered everything, from sea to land in all directions.
Meanwhile, Riley sat quiet in the front passenger seat, a storm unto herself. Her dark hair spiked and wild from the sea spray, her skin even paler than usual.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what she had said when we were in the ocean.
Her father was dying.
But the phone call from Sean had been about Kira’s father.
A puzzle moved through my mind, pieces locking into place, then shifting. I tried to put it all together, from the legend I’d heard about Kira to the things that had happened throughout our journey. Parts of it made sense, but as each piece slid into place, the colors grew darker and the picture became more and more disturbing.
Finally I had to push it all away.
The car was slowing down. We were pulling into a large parking lot, beside a looming building made of brick and steel and glass. Suddenly the ocean felt far away and I longed for the sea tempest. I could ride out a storm and still survive, but in a city, in the midst of all this man-made rock, I was lost.
Still, Kira was here somewhere—the girl who walked the cliffs, mourning the deaths of her mother and her sister, an emotion made more real to me now after what had happened to Ethan.
But what she didn’t know was that one of them was about to join her.
Today the dead were coming back to life.
Chapter 43
Kira:
Sean push-pulled me across the linoleum, my shoes leaving skid marks, my legs stiff. When this was all over, he and I were going to have a really long talk, about Selkies and familiars and just who was supposed to be in charge. Right now, there was almost no way for me to fight him. In my heart, I was running back down that corridor, looking for someplace to hide. In reality, I was just about to collide with Father Sullivan, who had just turned his head and didn’t see us coming.
“Sean,” I whispered as loud as I dared. “Stop it!”
Gram lifted her head and her eyes opened.
I couldn’t look, couldn’t bear to see the sadness and disappointment I knew would be there. She was probably already wondering how to tell me the bad news—the operation hadn’t been successful, my dad’s heart had been too weak, I wasn’t going to hear him laugh again.
He wasn’t going to tuck me in at night anymore.
Tears slid down my cheeks and I tried to shift out of Sean’s grip, tried to break away one last time, but his hands held my shoulders like iron clamps and I couldn’t get away—
Gram stood up, her knitting slid off her lap onto the floor. She reached out to me and, finally, Sean let me go. I instinctively wrapped my arms around Gram, still refusing to look in her eyes, trying to numb myself against the bone-crushing tsunami that was headed my way.
Everything was going to get swept away in a heartbeat.
She rested one hand on my back.
“Kira,” she said in my ear, though I tried not to hear it. “The surgery is over.”
I knew that. Nobody had to tell me. My body stiffened as if a strong blow was coming with her next words. I ducked my head, ready to roll and tumble, ready to get knocked across the room by the force that was on its way.
“You’re father is fine. He’s resting now. We should be able to see him in a few minutes. As soon as he wakes up from the anesthesia—”
Gram was speaking and I heard every word, but none of it made sense. Good things don’t happen, they just can’t. Not when you’re in that midst of a tsunami. Nothing is stronger than one of those sudden storms.
Then I saw Father Sullivan, his dark eyes watching us. He smiled, deep creases forming at the sides of his mouth, his countenance gentle, compassionate, the skin on his hands long ago leathered by the sun.
And in the palm of his right hand rested an old carved wooden cross.
Almost exactly like the one I wore around my neck.
•
The door opened. Inside, the air hung thick and still and silent. Heavy drapes covered the windows, blocking out the view of the ocean and what I assumed was probably a sunset, although, really, I had lost track of time since I’d arrived. The first bed I passed was empty, starched linens and a thin blue blanket pulled tight across the single mattress. A long curtain hung from the ceiling to the floor.
Right now, it kept me from seeing
who was laying in the second bed.
My dad.
Gram let me go in first, alone, so here I was, rounding that partition, fingers clutched unconsciously in fists at my side.
I heard Dad sigh, heard him shift ever so slightly. Maybe a hand had just moved or a leg. I took a deep breath as he came into view.
He looked tired and sallow, the shadow of a beard darkening the hollows of his face, as if he’d aged ten years since this morning. It looked like he had been in a long, grisly fight. And the other guy had won.
“Dad,” I said, trying to keep my voice level and failing. I couldn’t even get a single word out without a tremor in my voice. I swallowed nervously as I inched closer, not sure how close I should get. I didn’t know if he was awake or not, and I wanted to throw my arms around his neck, but he looked so fragile.
Like all of his bones might break if I touched him.
Another deep sigh, then he opened his eyes. He looked around a bit, as if trying to locate me by the sound of my voice.
“Dad, how are you feeling?” I walked closer, until my legs pressed against the edge of his bed.
He saw me then. A weak grin transformed his face, turned him back into my real dad, not some sick guy that I could barely recognize.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said, his voice dry and crackly, like a transmission from an old radio, bristling with static.
“You want some water?” I asked, reaching for the plastic glass and pitcher that stood on a nearby table.
“Sure.” He watched me the whole time I poured, as if this was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Me holding a pitcher, getting him a glass of water. Then I lifted it to his lips, helped him drink it. Just like he used to help me when I was a kid. Funny how memories spring back when you least expect them.
Him and me and Katie and mom, in the yard having a picnic. Him pouring Kool Aid into a glass and then holding it for me to take a sip.
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