Watermark (The Emerald Series Book 3)

by James, Kimberly

  I wanted someone to move. Say something. Do something. But we all stood transfixed, held in place by fear. Held in place by adulation. My battered heart wanted to protest, deny what my eyes saw. He looked like something from another world, another planet. Aliens indeed. But this was no alien. This was no beast. Somewhere under the face of this monster, I recognized him.

  “Jamie?” I forced his name past my lips. His eyes lingered over my face and his rugged features softened. He turned his head, suddenly on alert, eyes cast to that endless place I could never share with him. What did he hear? What was he thinking? He seemed torn. I looked past the prominent cheeks and the angular jaw, finding the familiarity in his eyes. “Jamie.”

  He moved so fast, I barely had time to catch a breath. He grabbed me and crushed me to his chest. Noah and Caris yelled my name, yelled his, but he didn’t stop. Leaping so high I was forced to cling to him, he plunged into the Gulf water. Panic struck me. He held me tightly to his side, his speed punishing, and I closed my eyes under the force of the water rushing past. I struggled, trying to make him understand I couldn’t go with him. Already my chest burned. My mind screamed for him to stop.

  Let me go. Let me breathe.

  But whatever he was, logic seemed lost to him. Darkness overtook me. My grip on his arm—the impossible vice of his arm—grew weak. My thoughts grew desperate. Maybe Noah or Jeb could catch us. But I knew it was hopeless. He was too fast. Even with the protection of his body, water crushed me.

  He was too powerful. He was going to kill me.

  10

  I must be dead. A heavy weight crushed my chest, and had I needed to breathe, it would be impossible. I knew my eyes were open, but there was nothing to see. Darkness encompassed me. No bright light, no angels, not a single harp playing.

  I wasn’t surprised I’d ended up in hell. It’s what I deserved, though I hadn’t expected it to be cold. Or quiet. Where was all the agonized gnashing of teeth? The torturous screams? That was part of punishment, wasn’t it? Pain?

  But it was quiet. Quiet and cold.

  I recoiled at the sudden touch on my chest and my throat clogged with a rancid taste I couldn’t expel. The pressure on my chest increased as something blessedly warm pressed on my sternum. The relief was short lived as pain jabbed at me like the repeated blows of a fist. It burned like searing volcanic heat, and when it finally erupted, it was like spitting molten lava.

  Whatever held me down flipped me over as I retched what felt like fiery embers through my lips and nose. The tangy taste of salt and brine stung the back of my throat. The pressure in my chest lifted, and by some miracle, I heaved air into my lungs, the burn a welcome balm.

  Maybe I wasn’t dead after all.

  The darkness prevented me from seeing what had hold of my arms. Fingers? A hand? Whatever held me, its skin was textured, rough and smooth at the same time, almost snake-like. I lay gasping with my cheek pressed to wet, gritty sand. I should be relieved I was alive, but I was beginning to think my life was one big nightmare that I couldn’t escape. Not even death would have me.

  I didn’t know where I was. Where could I be that it would be this cold? And then I remembered the beach. The party. A kiss. A monster coming from the Deep and attacking Michael. No. Not a monster.

  Jamie.

  His labored breathing filled the space—an uncomfortable sound, as though every inhale was a struggle. Like a fish out of water. The thought sent a tremor through me. I’d seen what he was, had felt the scales against my skin. I felt them now, the unleashed strength harbored in the snake-like fingers clutching my arms. How had this happened? His fingers slowly peeled away from my skin, and my hands tingled as blood rushed to them unimpeded.

  Damp hung in the air. I scooted back, not knowing whether back was the right direction to go. My shoulders hit a wall, the rough stone scratching my skin as my feet dug into hard packed dirt. A cave? Not likely this close to the beach. And we were close. If I listened carefully, I could hear the dull roar of the Gulf and smell the salt on the air. If not a cave, then where?

  My eyes strained. A crack on the far side of the space revealed a sliver of barely there light. Daylight. Had I been trapped in the dark with him all night? With this beast that was my husband? He moved and my eyes followed the darker shadow of his ghostly form as though he were made of smoke.

  “Jamie.” My voice wobbled.

  His sharp intake of breath hissed in the darkness followed by an incoherent mewling. Sounds I couldn't understand echoed off the walls. Was he attempting to talk to me?

  “Dd…”

  I heard the perplexity in the singular sound, could almost feel the strain of air in his throat.

  “Ddooo…”

  Whatever he had become, he had lost his ability to speak, at least in words. My eyes welled with tears as he struggled. Shock or fear, I wasn't sure which, chained me to the wall. My hands bunched. He’d hurt Michael.

  “Jamie.” His name was all I could think to say, as though saying it would bring back the Jamie I remembered, the Jamie I loved.

  “Nooo…” His voice fell much closer than I'd expected and I flinched, the heat from his body radiating in waves. He smelled the same. I closed my eyes.

  “Jamie.” His name choked on a sob. What the hell was I supposed to do?

  “No… awfra…d.” The touch was so light I might have imagined it but for the current that flowed under my skin from my wrist to my elbow, to the top of my shoulder. His skin was rough, his hands not like hands at all, scaly and dry. Too dry. He sighed as he traced my tears as though the single drops eased some deprivation.

  His breath blew warm on my cheek. His lips touched mine, and to my confused mind it was as though he’d never died. But he hadn’t died. He was here. By some miracle he was here. And in the dark with the familiar touch of his lips, the familiar scent of his skin, I could believe he really was back.

  “Oh, Jamie.” I lifted my hand, but he retreated, leaving me to grasp at nothing but emptiness. His feet shuffled on the packed sand followed by a scraping sound. Each breath he took sounded forced and thick, as though he couldn’t get enough air.

  Creaking hinges shattered the quiet like the squawk of hungry gulls. Sunlight flooded the confined space, and I lifted my hand, shielding my eyes as though it had been days that I’d been trapped in the dark and instead of hours.

  Jamie stood over me bathed in light that reflected off his skin, highlighting its blue sheen. His hair, always cropped short, hung over his shoulders to the thick knots of his elbows, matted and clumped like the giant fronds of palmetto bushes. Salient green eyes held me in place as we stared at each other, my breath coming fast and shallow, his rattled and laborious. He raised his arms and his muscles knotted and bunched, the veins under his skin protruding and spidering down to his upturned hands. But they weren’t hands anymore. They were more like fins with fine webs connecting each finger to the other. His spine stiffened, and it was as if he were willing me to look at him, begging me to look at him as he put himself on display.

  The sheer size of him struck me. He towered in the doorway, the expanse of his chest like a wall of stone, shoulders and arms like cannons, his torso crossed with ridges of muscle. Embossed skin, neglected from the sun, shimmered in the light as though the Deep had seeped inside his pores and stained his skin blue-green.

  His legs resembled tree trunks, his quadriceps thick with teardrop muscles, barely concealed under what was left of his pants, the fabric faded and torn and threadbare. He was pretty much naked. I tried to find it in myself to be repulsed. But despite what he was, the fact that he’d obviously progressed through some metamorphosis I couldn’t begin to understand, my cheeks flamed with warmth and reverent fear.

  My God, it was him. It was Jamie. How? How had this happened?

  I was almost afraid to look back at his eyes, but his eyes were the one thing that seemed to be the same—eyes I’d thought never to see again. He nodded as though he’d made an important decision, as t
hough I’d passed some kind of test. Is that what this was? A test? Did he think I would be afraid of him? Repulsed by him? Was I?

  Before I could decide one way or the other, he turned and bolted through the door, disappearing into the sun. My body finally found the will to move and I chased his retreating back, heedless of my surroundings. My feet chugged through the sand, but the effort was wasted. I couldn’t keep up. By the time I got to the beach, he was gone. All I found was a harsh wind and angry waves.

  After I caught my breath, I turned around to see where I was. The beach was empty in both directions. To my right, the far off silhouette of towering high-rises rose like jagged teeth in the distance. The sky echoed with the distant thump of a helicopter. One quick scan of the beach behind me confirmed my suspicion. About a quarter mile back beyond the dunes, sat a brick wall, the edge of Fort Pickens, an old historic military fort east of Pensacola Beach. I knew the place well. I’d camped here a few times with my dad.

  “Shit.” My fear and confusion and shock were quickly replaced with anger. I was only about a hundred miles away from home and without a phone. I guessed my cell phone was still sitting on the chair where Michael and I shared a kiss.

  Michael.

  I heard again the rhythmic blows of Jamie’s fists and Michael’s grunts as flesh pounded on flesh. My vision dimmed and for a few shaky steps my head grew light. Why would Jamie attack Michael that way? And why the hell would he take me and leave me so far from home?

  Jamie had always talked about the Deep as though she were a person, an entity in her own right. Well, if she was, she was a damn bitch. Taking him from me in the first place then spewing him out, only it wasn’t him anymore and at the same time it was him.

  Jamie. He was alive, and he was a monster.

  11

  Thank God the bathroom was unlocked and the water worked. Amazing what a splash of warm water could do to calm nerves that had been in overdrive for the last twelve hours. I felt more or less normal again. One look at my reflection in the mirror told another story.

  The eyes that stared back at me were troubled, almost unrecognizable, and the longer I stared at myself, the more of a stranger I became. My fingers traced lips still warm from where Jamie had touched me with his. After a few more splashes of water, I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and held it to my face, allowing myself one muffled scream. I felt better for it. I still looked like hell. My hair was a complete mess, even after a few attempts at finger combing it, and it ended up tied in a knot at the base of my neck. At least my clothes were dry, even if my jeans were stiff and I felt like the Tin Man when I walked to the door. If I was lucky enough to find an actual person out here, I didn’t want to scare them.

  Luck found me pretty quick when I opened the door and smacked right into someone coming inside. He wore a tan uniform with a patch of the Florida State seal. My eyes flicked to the name embroidered in black thread on the left side of his chest. Rick’s brows creased, turning his blank expression into one more suspicious.

  “What are you doing out here?” He held a pack of toilet paper in his hand and a plastic bottle of hand sanitizer in the other, trying to intimidate me with his height. A difficult feat considering what I had just faced. Besides, what did he think I was doing? I skipped over the obvious.

  “Do you have a phone I can use? I seem to have misplaced my cell phone,” I said and skirted around him, hoping to discourage further questions I wasn't prepared to answer.

  "Sure." He eyed me up and down, and presumably deciding I wasn’t some miscreant, jerked his head toward a small office building. "Let me put these inside first," he said. When he came back out of the bathroom, minus the toilet paper and sanitizer, he offered a terse, “Follow me.”

  I spent the short walk readjusting the shoulder of my blouse and trying not to step on any sharp objects.

  “In here.” He held the door open for me, and I stepped inside a small office building smelling of fresh coffee.

  He indicated the phone on a sparsely covered desk with another jerk of his head. My fingers trembled over the numbers. 8-5-6. No, that wasn’t right. I had to start over, reciting the numbers in my head. I glanced over my shoulder and waited for the call to connect. Ranger Rick stood guard at the door, eyeing me overtly. I offered a tentative smile, a mask to my churning gut. It promptly disappeared when my mom answered, and I jerked my head back around.

  “Mom.” My goal was calm, cool, and collected since I had no idea what Noah had told her, or what he might have told my dad for that matter.

  “Erin? Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere.” I heard her deep inhale and could imagine her trying to regain her composure. In a more rational, less discordant voice she asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” No. How could I be? “Can you come get me?” Ranger Rick shuffled behind me. Undoubtedly, he could hear her.

  “Oh, of course. Where are you?” Her voice grew shrill again, and I winced into the phone.

  “Fort Pickens, in the ranger's office.” My voice lilted as though I were asking a question.

  “Fort Pickens? But that’s… never mind. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you sure you’re all right? You're not hurt, are you?"

  “No, Mom. I’m fine. But would you do me favor?”

  “Sure honey, anything.”

  “When you hang up, don’t call Dad. I can’t talk to him right now.” With my dad it’d be all business. He’d pepper me with questions like I was one of his men in a debriefing. I didn’t need to be debriefed. I needed my mother.

  “You know he has a small army out looking for you. I have to let him know you’re okay.”

  It had crossed my mind as a couple of low flying Coast Guard choppers flew over that maybe I was the reason.

  “I don’t want to talk to him yet. Please.”

  “I’ll handle your dad. You stay safe until I get there. Are you alone?”

  “One of the rangers is here. He let me use the phone. Really, I’m okay. Just don’t call Dad.”

  “I know how to do this, Erin. We were married for almost twelve years. And you know he loves you that much.”

  “I know.” Why did that make me tear up? I blinked, not ready to succumb to hysterics.

  “I love you too sweetie. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

  I hung up, holding the receiver tightly. It was probably a waste of time to try to persuade her to keep quiet. It wouldn’t surprise me if my dad had her phoned tapped. Come to think of it, I should have directed all my comments to him. I wondered what Noah even told him.

  I remembered the first night Jamie and I had spent together. The night after I’d told Jamie I wanted him. The night my life had irrevocably changed.

  Jamie had wanted to go to my dad right away. I had refused, too scared my dad would put an end to us before we'd ever begun.

  “He doesn’t have to know,” I'd said as I'd smiled and swayed toward him, and for all that I'd been sixteen, I'd understood he wanted me.

  “Yes, he does.” His tone had been unyielding, his face set in seriousness, as though giving me a chance to back out before it was too late, an absurd idea. It had already been too late. I was in love.

  “I won’t hide,” he'd declared. A challenge. A condition layered with meaning. Was I prepared to tell my dad? Was I prepared to tell our small island world that Erin Shaw loved a waterbreather?

  We’d argued further, until Jamie had taken my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles and made a promise he couldn't know he wouldn't keep. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  When we’d told my dad, he’d pretty much blown a gasket. What had followed had been a battle of sorts with Jamie going toe-to-toe with my dad, spouting “yes, sirs” and “no, sirs” and “with all due respect, sirs.” Hand in hand I’d sided with Jamie that night.

  I could still see the hurt in my dad’s eyes. He’d looked at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. I think it was the first time he’d realized I wasn’t hi
s little girl anymore.

  I’m not going anywhere. Jamie had said.

  But he had. He’d died.

  The shrill ring of the phone startled me out of my cloud of memories. Ranger Rick responded immediately, coming back in the door. He stood by his desk and looked down at me, sweat stains spreading under the arms of his tan uniform. I still had my hand on the phone.

  “Sorry,” I said and stepped back, allowing him access to his desk and the ringing phone.

  “This is Rick Stoud,” he said, sounding very official, as though this were a high-security military facility and not a tourist destination.

  “Yes, sir.” His gaze followed me as I took a seat in one of the chairs along the wall opposite his desk. The vinyl cushion sank under my weight. The air vent blew cold air over my shoulder. I thought I could get really pissed at Jamie for leaving me here. He’d abducted me, nearly drowned me, and then abandoned me a hundred miles from home.

  I exhaled slowly. Jamie was alive.

  “Yes, sir. That appears to be accurate.” Ranger Rick nodded, giving me a once over with assessing eyes.

  It was my dad all right. I cocked my head and could only stare back while he listened intently, as though he’d landed the most important job in the world—babysitting me. Once Ranger Rick hung up, he drummed his fingers on the desk.

  “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”

  “Water would be good.” My mouth still tasted of briny ocean.

  He disappeared into a back room and I heard the slight pop of the refrigerator door releasing. When he came back, he handed me a bottle of water. Then he perched on the edge of his desk, hands clasped together, and stared at me.

  “Thanks.” My fingers shook and I couldn't seem to get a good enough grip to unscrew the lid. Ranger Rick took pity on me and reached over and opened the bottle for me. I gulped, my throat raw and burnt from the salt water. I thought back to the purging I underwent and anger spiked. I seriously could have drowned.