Waterborn (The Emerald Series Book 1)

by Kimberly James

  “What’s not good for business is one of my suppliers disappearing on me for months, leaving me short on materials.”

  I placed a small cloth bag on the counter and smiled at her. “I can fix that.” I hadn’t realized how good it would feel saying those words. Finally, for the first time since I got back, someone wouldn’t end up disappointed.

  She narrowed her eyes and scooted the bag over, loosening the drawstring. It wasn’t until she peeked inside that she smiled. One of those “cat that swallowed the canary” smiles, but instead of feathers floating out of her mouth, she had dollar signs.

  “Are you ever going to tell me where you find these gems?”

  “Nope. Then you would send Jeb, or hell, maybe even my mom to harvest them. Someone who would work for cheap.”

  Not that I was getting rich off our arrangement. I received a percentage of her sales on the jewelry she made with the pearls I brought her. And they were her best sellers. I had even made a few pieces myself. Tahiti wasn’t the only place that produced beautiful pearls.

  “Well, as usual, these are gorgeous.” She pulled the string tight and made for the back of the store.

  I followed as far as the curtain of metal beads that separated the storefront from her work area. They sounded like rain falling when she passed through and shimmered when they moved, as though she was walking through some kind of time portal.

  “Maggie…” I paused, caught under the weight of the curtain and my own doubt. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  “Sure, Noah.” Her eyes lit up, suddenly curious as she waved me forward.

  I’d come at a slow time of day on purpose, so we could hopefully talk uninterrupted. If Jamie were here, I’d be having this conversation with him. But since he wasn’t, I was left with two options—my mom or Maggie. Considering this particular problem involved a little magic, I decided Maggie was my best bet to get answers.

  I sat on one of the stools next to a worktable and scooted a pot of moonflowers out of the way. She’d been working on some designs. Strings of leather of different lengths, gold coins, and saltwater pearls were scattered across the table.

  “I met a girl,” I said, which wasn’t totally accurate. We hadn’t officially met. Hell, I didn’t even know her name, but there was something about having someone inside your head that made you feel like you knew them, even if it was just through echoes of sound. I shifted on the stool, already uncomfortable with this conversation.

  “Is this going to be about sex?” Maggie slid onto the stool across from me and leaned forward on her elbows. The eager expression on her face scared me.

  “No.” Where the hell had that come from?

  “Cause if it is—"

  “Maggie, it’s not about sex.” I ran my hands down my face. This was a mistake. Maggie had this uncanny ability to read people, interpret their aura and shit, and the way she was looking at me suggested I must be putting off some really interesting vibes. Or colors. Or what the hell ever.

  “Have you ever had sex, Noah?” She cocked her head to the side.

  Yep, this had been a mistake. I didn’t even answer her. What was I supposed to say? I wouldn't lie, but I wouldn't to tell her the truth either. It wasn’t any of her business anyway. I sat there staring at her, waiting for her to pass judgment, as if being a virgin was a crime these days and I was on trial.

  “You haven’t,” she said and her eyes got all big and round and mushy. “That’s so sweet.”

  “Maggie, if you don’t shut up, I’m walking out of here and never coming back.” I had totally lost control of this conversation. And I really didn’t want to think about sex and the silver-eyed girl in the same context, as if the two thoughts went together. Because they didn’t.

  “I just thought… I don’t know. You’re nineteen. I didn’t think guys lasted that long now days.”

  Obviously, for some reason Maggie wasn’t letting this go. Talking to Jamie would have been so much easier.

  “Magnolia. Stop. This is important.”

  “More important than sex?” She tried not to laugh.

  I knew what she was thinking. What could be more important than sex to a nineteen-year-old guy? I expelled a heavy breath. “Yes.”

  “Oh.” The word came out so softly, I barely heard her. She put her hands on the table and clasped them together as though she were about to meditate, wrestling to control her face.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This girl, she’s a breather. But I don’t think she knows it.” I didn’t think it. I knew it.

  “That’s unusual.” She sounded surprised. “How old is she?”

  “Seventeen, maybe eighteen.” At least I had her attention now.

  “Wow.” She sat up straighter, the wheels of her mind practically humming. “That must mean there’s a pretty powerful charm in place.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Charms were fairly common. Maggie herself had the ability to put one in place. Sometimes a breather needed to go inland, be away from the Gulf for more than a day. A charm would give them that ability. Wearing a charm was like wearing a mask. Gills and webs disappeared. Any physical trait was hidden and the need for water subdued. I had never heard of anyone using one for more than a few days, a week at the most. Why would someone need a charm for seventeen years? I shuddered just thinking about it.

  I practically saw the light bulb go off over Maggie’s head.

  “She came in here the other day. Poor girl.”

  I didn’t like the way Maggie was making this girl out to be the victim. I was the victim here.

  “Well, there’s more.” This was the part I was dreading. Maggie waited with an expectant look on her face. “I can hear her.”

  She didn’t react at first, as though she had no idea what I was talking about. I knew the second she realized what I was telling her. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open.

  “She’s a siren.” Maggie could barely contain her excitement. She leaned forward, pinning me with her eyes. “I haven’t heard of that phenomenon since I was little girl.”

  Maggie loved all things supernatural. And it might have been kind of cool had it not been happening to me. Besides, if I were to develop a superpower, mind reading wouldn’t be on my list of choices. Not that I could, in any way, read this girl’s mind. Not exactly. Though she might feel differently if she knew.

  “You got an explanation why it’s happening now? Why me? And more importantly, how do I make it stop?”

  “I’m not an expert on this stuff, Noah. And this is pretty old magic. And there are different kinds of Songs. Healing Songs, Songs for when someone is separated from the tribe and needs to be found. Songs connecting families. Songs of love and friendship,” she said, her voice all soft and fantastical, as if she found the whole idea totally romantic. I hated to break it to her—it wasn’t.

  “And the ones of violence where the siren kills and eats her prey,” I deadpanned.

  “That too. But if that were the case, you’d be dead already.” She waved the idea off. “I wish I could tell you more. As far as making it stop, I don’t think you can. I really don’t know a lot about how this works.”

  “This is how it works.” My voice was hard with frustration. “I’ve got a soundtrack playing in my head to the tune of this girl’s moods. She’s got a happy song, a sad song, and a confused song, which is getting a hell of a lot of playtime. And I swear, I think there’s even a song for when she’s eating chocolate.” At some point during this confession I had closed my eyes. I opened them again and met Maggie’s stunned gaze. “I shouldn’t know this much, Maggie. I don’t want to know this much. I don’t even know this girl’s name.”

  I didn’t know why I was getting angry. None of this was Maggie’s fault. I had just hoped she could tell me how to make it stop.

  “Caris,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Her name is Caris.”

  Now I for sure knew more than I ever want
ed to know about her.

  “Noah, this is a gift given to her for a reason. It was given to you too. If the Deep picked you to hear this girl’s Song, she had a reason. Maybe she thinks you can help her.”

  I rolled my eyes. Maggie and my mother believed the Deep was an entity unto herself, a water spirit, a nurturer and a provider and I, to an extent, knew there was some truth to it. I had felt her. Even on the days when I wasn’t swimming with a tribe and the Deep felt like an endless void, I had never felt truly alone. But I bristled at the idea of her intruding on my life and forcing this needy girl on me.

  “What am I supposed to do? Babysit this girl while she figures out who the hell she is?”

  Maggie stiffened as though my words were pure venom. “You’re supposed to quit being such a selfish bastard and start thinking about someone besides yourself. She’s one of your kind. Part of your tribe. Whatever the reason she’s been wearing this charm, it can’t be a good one. Think about what she must be feeling.”

  No. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think about her. Not the way she’d looked at me in the car with her sad, shimmering eyes. Not the way her hair had been soft as silk between my fingers. Not the way her nightmare had chilled my blood when I’d heard her fear and it had taken all my willpower not to go to her.

  Maggie’s face grew stony and a cold expression crept into her eyes, making me wonder if I had said my thoughts out loud.

  “You can’t run from this, Noah.” She might as well have hit me. Is that what she’d thought I’d been doing? Running?

  “I can’t help you. I don’t want to help you.” Her shoulders slumped and her voice took on a gentle tone laced with undeniable pity. “You have to figure this out for yourself. You need to do this yourself.”

  It was the equivalent of the “this is for your own good” speech. She took the pouch of pearls I had brought her, walked over to the chest she kept them in and placed them inside, closing and locking the lid.

  “That’s it? That’s your big advice? Go make nice and be this girl’s shrink?”

  She whirled around, skirt twirling around her legs. “She has a name, Noah. It’s Caris. And yes, that’s it. You’re not the one with the problem. She is. Sooner rather than later that charm will crack.”

  “Thanks, Mags.” I pushed off the stool so hard it fell over. I didn’t stop to set it right. I shoved the irritating curtain out of the way, intent on the door.

  “Noah, wait…”

  Felix jumped up when I approached the door, and for the first time in my life, I ignored him.

  With my hand on the door, I turned around. Not that it was any of her damn business, but I looked Maggie straight in the eye and without flinching, I said, “Erin. She’s how I’m still a virgin. I wouldn’t risk putting anybody through that.”

  Nine

  Caris

  “Anything exciting happen today?” My dad lifted his glass of wine, his expression overly expectant. Whether in anticipation of his favorite wine or in hopes that I did have something exciting to report, I couldn’t tell.

  We were eating dinner at one of his favorite places in Destin. We’d had to drive a good thirty minutes with traffic to get to it, but it had been worth it. The restaurant sat on the harbor and we had a perfect view of the Destin Pass and the sunset blowing up the sky in bursts of orange and pink.

  “I wouldn’t call it exciting, but I met someone you know. A girl named Erin. She said she met you the other day.” I opened my mouth wide to accommodate a forkful of salad.

  “You met Erin Shaw?” He looked at me over the rim of his glass, mildly curious.

  I nodded and wiped a glob of dressing off my lip with my napkin. The waitress came and filled our glasses of tea. She smiled down at my dad and took extra time filling his glass. He didn’t seem to notice. I had once heard some of the mothers at school talking about how they thought my dad looked like Paul Newman. I hadn’t known who that was, so I had gone home and Googled him. They’d been right.

  “That’s good. Her dad invited us to dinner this week. Marshall and I have been meaning to get you two together.”

  “Sounds good. I liked her. She works at the aquarium. That’s where I met her.” I wasn’t trying to make any kind of accusation with the statement about how much my dad had been working since we’d arrived here, but his lips pinched in a tight line. He put his glass down.

  “You should have told me you were going. I would have gone with you.” He picked at his salad, not really intent on eating it. “I know I’ve been busy since we got here. I didn’t mean to leave you on your own the first week.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It was spur of the moment anyway.” I rubbed my bare arms, wishing I had brought a sweater.

  “How about I get a bike for the weekend? We can ride the length of the trail together.”

  “I don’t know, Dad. Can you handle it? It’s an eighteen mile trail.” I’d ridden part of the Timpoochee Trail over the last week. It followed the highway through the small townships and over coastal dune lakes with offshoot trails winding through some of the state parks. Those were my favorite places. They were less crowded and didn’t have as many kids on bikes or strollers to dodge. A bike rider’s paradise.

  “I’m talking a leisurely ride, no spandex, and frequent breaks,” he clarified, though he could probably handle it better than I could considering he ran most mornings.

  One thing I’d noticed over the last few days was even though I’d been doing a lot of riding, it wasn’t getting any easier. I was tired all the time. My body felt deprived, and even though I kept a bottle of water with me, it never seemed to be enough. And like now, there was never enough air, especially when I was inside and the air blew cool. At home, I kept the door on my balcony open to let the warm air in. My dad and I had been in a battle over the thermostat. The house was always too cold.

  I needed air and not the artificial kind. I parted my lips and tried to breathe through my mouth but it didn’t help. I picked up my water and forced a sip past my tightening throat.

  “Caris, you okay?” My dad’s voice sounded as though it had come from across the restaurant and not across the table.

  “Yeah.” The word came out tight and constrained. “I think I need some fresh air. I’ll be right back.”

  “You want me to come with you? You look kind of pale.” Concern creased his brow and he flicked his napkin on the table as though to follow me.

  “No. I’ll be fine. Finish your salad. I’ll be right back.” I pasted a fake smile on my face that I was sure he could see right through. I dodged a waiter carrying a tray laden with plates of steaming food high over his head. The minute I walked through the door leading outside I felt instant relief. My chest expanded as I pulled in a deep breath. The air hung heavy with moisture and it was like sucking water through a straw. I wished it would seep into my skin.

  The docks behind the restaurant were fairly crowded as people milled about, enjoying the last sunlight of the day. Boats idled into their slots, the smell of gasoline overpowering the fishy smell. A group of tourists filed off one of the charter boats, faces sunburned and wearing tired smiles, toting brightly colored coolers and smelling heavily of beer and sunscreen. I scooted to the edge of the dock as the group approached, chatting loudly and paying me little attention. A stab of fear gripped me when one of them bumped me, and I had to grab a random piling to keep from falling into the inky harbor.

  “Careful,” a voice said behind me. “Watch your feet.”

  I looked back over my shoulder. A man was standing on the stern of a boat. The muscles of his arm flexed under the weight of the line he was holding, hooked with a large fish with shiny red scales. His chin dipped and I looked down. I had stepped into a tangle of old rope. It looped around my right foot, dirty and frayed.

  “Thanks for the warning.” I disentangled my feet then bent to pick it up, not wanting to leave it for someone else to trip over.

  “Throw it here,” the man said
and held out his hand. “I’ll get rid of it.”

  He had a tattoo that swirled up his right arm and wound its way over his shoulder where it disappeared under the cutout sleeves of his t-shirt.

  My eyes caught his and I was instantly reminded of storm clouds. I guessed he was around my dad’s age. He wore his hair pulled back in a ponytail and it was the oddest color. Not the silver-gray that came from age, but silver like when the afternoon sun reflected off the water. His face looked like a piece of weathered art, sun-wrinkled and tanned. A couple of strands of wind-loosened hair hung around his face, softening the strong line of his jaw. He was striking, and I found myself captured by his gaze. His expression was guarded and he scrutinized me as though he thought he might know me. I tossed the offending rope over and he caught it deftly before tossing it in what I assumed was a pile of trash, and still his eyes stayed on me.

  I didn’t know what kept me there, watching. I knew my dad was waiting for me, but there was something oddly appealing about the smell of freshly caught fish, which was strange because I had never really liked seafood, especially the smell.

  Then there was the man himself. He kept looking back at me between stowing his gear, wiping down the sleek teak wood, and emptying the ice from a cooler. Forcing myself to quit staring, I was about to turn and go when something behind me caught his attention. The color drained from his face, and the cooler he held in his hand fell to the deck, making a hollow bumping sound. He stood motionless except for the piece of hair caught in the wind.

  “Caris?”

  I turned at the sound of my dad’s voice. He trotted up the pier, startling a brown pelican into flight, his face falling into relief when he saw me. “Our food’s on the table.”

  His eyes lifted past me to the man on the boat and his steps faltered then slowed to a near stop. His lips thinned, jaw grinding, his expression hardening.