Watermark (The Emerald Series Book 3)

by James, Kimberly

  Jamie's heart sank into the pit of his stomach, rolling like a storm-roughened sea.

  "I got to her before…" Noah's voice trailed off under the pain of the memory.

  Jamie's head fell between his arms, his throat tight.

  When they told me you were dead, I wanted to die.

  Erin had said that the day she'd tried to convince him their baby's death was her fault. He simply hadn't understood what she'd been trying to tell him.

  "She said she was waiting for you. That you'd never let anything bad happen to her. That if you were out there you would save her. I think that's the night she realized you weren't coming back. That you were really gone."

  It struck Jamie again how much the people he'd loved suffered on his behalf. It also humbled him. He wasn't sure he deserved so much of their grief.

  "Thank you," he said, and he knew he could never say it enough. "For looking out for her. You saved her in so many ways."

  "I love her too. And I don't want to see her hurt anymore."

  "She won't be," Jamie said, a vow to himself. A vow to her.

  "Good," Noah said, letting a few beats of silence pass. "I'm tired of all this emotional shit."

  “You have a girlfriend now," Jamie said, only half teasing. "Emotional shit is part of the territory."

  "Great advice Jamie. I'll remember that." Noah slapped him on the back, and his lips turned up in a tightly suppressed smile. "Go for a swim with me. We'll find Jeb and Daniel and go to Pirates afterward. Get your mind off stuff."

  Something moved out of the corner of Jamie's eye and another something scurried over his foot. Too late, Jamie remembered what that slight buzzing coming from Noah meant.

  "Really, Noah?" he asked as a crab scuttled between his legs and pinched the crotch of his shorts. Yelping, Jamie leaped to his feet, slapping the crab away. Dozens more scattered.

  Noah fell on his back, pointing and laughing like he had done when they were kids.

  Jamie bit back a grin. "I can't believe you still think that's funny."

  "I will always think that's funny." Noah jumped to his feet and punched Jamie in the shoulder, eyeing him speculatively. “How fast are you?"

  Jamie grinned. It was time to re-establish the pecking order around here. "Try to keep up tadpole.”

  33

  The Deep. The rush of water. The lightness as his body jetted through the height and breadth of it—a world without end.

  His world. The world in which he belonged.

  Jamie wondered at the feelings that seethed in his blood. The oldness, the way the water spoke to him at what felt like the core of his soul. The way he responded to the call whispered with every swish of water around his body. The water rooted him. She'd given him this sense of oneness, this absolute connectedness when she'd knit him back together. He might feel like an impostor when he was on land, but never here. He knew who he was here. And that scared him because it forced him to admit that like Erin, he was different. Changed. And like Erin, he wasn't sure how they fit together anymore.

  The members of his tribe followed him without question. Noah, Jeb, Daniel, and Cree. Even Levi had joined them, another forgotten face and name. This was how it used to be, the only difference being none of them swam as his equal. They hung back slightly in a primal formation, whether they were conscious of it or not, deferring to his dominance as if they too recognized he was something more here. A silent affirmation that told him if he would lead, they would follow.

  It humbled him but he accepted their offered submission. They'd needed a leader for a long time. His tribe was hungry for one. And while Jamie was here, in the Deep, he could believe it's what she’d saved him for.

  It had almost been a sacrilege when they'd finally taken to land behind Pirates. Jamie had a harder time shedding the Deep than his counterparts. While their banter and laughter was light and easy when they’d taken the stairs to the back porch style hang out, it always took Jamie a few minutes to feel human again, for the air to flow freely in his lungs and for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the world above the surface.

  "Want another?" Joe, the owner of Pirates, asked from behind the gleaming wood of the polished bar.

  "Sure, why not?" Jamie said, feeling more at home here than he had in his house. The Gulf hummed in his ears and the breeze flowed over his shoulders. The voices of his tribe surrounded him. When this day had started Jamie hadn't been sure he'd ever feel this way again.

  Jamie liked not being dead.

  He didn't like being at a table with five other people while they laughed and joked and made endlessly corny toasts to his sudden and miraculous reappearance. That's why he'd taken a spot at the bar. Jamie still didn't do well in crowds, and he considered five people a crowd. He still had trouble picking up on words and if there were too many being spoken at the same time his mind couldn't keep up. And the noise. He'd forgotten Jeb had an ongoing case of diarrhea of the mouth.

  Jamie’s gaze settled on his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He usually avoided looking, but he made himself study the stroke of blue slashing his face as though he’d been smeared with watercolor paint. It reminded him he should be dead, that she’d spared him. He’d come to think of it as his birthmark. His watermark.

  Joe popped the top on another bottle and slid it across the wood toward him along with a basket of fried shrimp. “Good to have you back."

  "To Jamie," Jeb offered. Bottles clinked in solidarity, making Jamie's spine tingle.

  The smile that spread over Jamie's face felt real and he lifted his beer to his mouth. Then the front door of Pirates opened and the world that was spinning so nicely into place stopped, tilting on its axis. He smelled him again. His enemy. His bottle of Stella stilled halfway to his mouth. His eyes lifted to the mirror behind the bar.

  Carl Rogan stood in the doorway, neither coming in or retreating, staring at Jamie. Jamie hadn’t seen Carl since the day his life as he’d known it ended. When their eyes collided in the mirror, Jamie's mind snapped open and an abyss swallowed him whole, transporting him to another time. Jamie again heard Flores's fist slamming on the table. Saw the piece of paper Flores was so eager for him to read.

  Jamie picked up the paper, his heart pounding ominously.

  Jamie read the names. Names he knew. Some of them friends. Some family.

  His father's name was on that list.

  Jamie's gut clenched, his mind revolting, rooted in momentary confusion. This wasn't what he came for. What Sloan had promised. What he held in his trembling hand wasn't a list of those joining the alliance, it was a list of those who’d rejected it.

  What did it mean that his father's name was on the list?

  Jamie read the names again and again, his confusion giving way to grim realization. The shock of it stole through his blood and froze his mind around one thought. They'd killed him.

  The last name on the list was Jamie's own. They counted him a traitor. And now he was on trial.

  "You have a choice Jamie, and I implore you to consider our plea to you strongly. We don't have to be adversaries. We need men like you. We need warriors."

  "Did you give my father this same choice?" Jamie's hand shook. He had it. Proof of the extent of their treachery. Their deceit. Their willingness to eliminate those who might be strong enough to stand against them. They had started with his dad. His dad was dead because he'd dared speak up for peace. His dad had wanted equality, rights granted to their kind based on their needs, but not by the spilling of blood. Not through force.

  "Shay had ample opportunity to see reason. Idealists are always too stubborn to be of use to anyone. He didn't share our vision for complete autonomy from a government that would as soon eliminate us. Threats to his family." Flores sneered, one eyebrow arched, his tone disdainful. "An epidemic. Nothing was enough to persuade him."

  Jamie blinked, his thoughts scattered. Surly he’d misunderstood. An epidemic? Jamie had been young, but he remembered the sense of despair left in the w
ake of so many deaths as a result of a virus run rampant. What Flores implied was unthinkable, evil at its worst. In so many ways they were strong. Who better to know their weaknesses than their own kind? Bile rose in Jamie’s throat in sickening comprehension. Those members of his tribe hadn't died from an out of control disease. They'd been murdered. His dad had been murdered.

  "Jamie," Flores continued, but Jamie was beyond hearing, beyond consoling. “You are young. Impressionable. We're willing to forgive your impudence. If you will listen to what we have to offer."

  "No." Jamie crumbled the paper in his hand. The promise of autonomy had been an illusion they created. These men wouldn't risk dissent in the other tribes. In reality these men were terrorists.

  "No?" Flores seemed surprised by Jamie's quick refusal. But what choice did Jamie have?

  "I won't join you," Jamie declared. “I won’t speak for you. I won’t endorse your plans.” He hadn't given much thought beyond refusing them. His mind still reeled from what he'd learned about his dad's death. That it hadn't been an accident. He'd been murdered. His only thought was to stand with his father. It wasn't until rough hands grabbed him from behind, binding his wrists that he realized his mistake. A needle plunged into his neck. His mind instantly grew foggy, his arms and legs weak. A blip of sound and Sloan collapsed on the floor, a pool of blood spreading under his fallen body.

  Jamie fell to his knees, the room spinning. His head hit the floor. Flores's face floated over him and Jamie blinked, trying and failing to focus.

  "I'm sorry it had to be this way," Flores said, and then he was gone.

  Jamie grunted as Carl plowed his foot into Jamie’s abdomen when he passed. Carl’s hand fisted in his hair, lifting his head off the floor. “You’re a traitor, Jamie. You’re going to die a traitor.”

  By the time Jamie shook himself out of the tomb of remembering, Carl was gone. Jamie wondered if he had been an apparition conjured only in his mind. He might have believed it but he still smelled him, a rank dark smell that teased his monster. Jamie heard it. The roar of it in his head as his body’s need grew. His need to find Carl. His need for revenge. Mostly for revenge.

  The clink of Noah's bottle on the bar startled him. Jamie hadn't heard Noah approach.

  “Carl’s a long way from home,” Noah said as he dropped onto the stool next to him. “Guess he saw you and decided Joe’s hush puppies aren’t worth a repeat of the last time you kicked his ass.”

  So Carl had been there. And now Jamie knew the truth.

  “He’s been sulking around here for the last week.” But why? What did he want? Did it really matter?

  “What does he want?” Noah asked in the now complete silence. The members of his tribe were looking at him with expectancy.

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.” A lie. The roof was falling in around him. The whole damn sky was falling. Pressure landed on Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie’s vision dimmed and the world swam in his eyes.

  “You all right, Jamie?” his brother asked, squeezing his shoulder.

  Jamie. Was that his name? He felt like someone else. Something else. Jamie's skin pulsed with the release of energy. The air shimmered with his need for Carl's blood. He tasted it on the back of his tongue. It was all he could do not to throw his head back and howl like the animal he was. Jamie pushed to his feet calmly, though he was a long way from calm. Without responding Jamie turned for the door. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Didn’t know if he could.

  "Where are you going?" Noah grabbed him by the arm and Jamie resisted the urge to jerk his arm away, pausing long enough to look his brother in the eyes. His lips parted as the revelation played over in his mind.

  They’d killed his father. They’d tried to kill him.

  "Don't follow me," Jamie said. He scanned the table where his tribe waited, for what, Jamie didn’t know. He didn’t want them involved. Carl was Jamie’s problem. No, Carl was a dead man. Jamie searched out Jeb and leveled him with his gaze, his voice a command. “Don’t let him follow me.”

  * * *

  Carl wasn’t hard to find. Jamie trailed his scent and it led him a hundred miles west, covering the same path Jamie had followed when he’d been out of his mind and brought Erin to this same place.

  Why? Why would Carl lead Jamie here?

  Fort Pickens loomed in the distance, the wall of brick fading in the fledgling sun. Jamie remembered this place now. He and Noah had played here as boys. Now that his mind was fully returned, he saw that the place they’d used as a fort was in ruin, the walls crumbling, the bricks worn and running with moisture. He could still catch Erin’s scent over the smell of dirt and her face sprang to his mind. Her dark welling eyes. The softness of her mouth. He didn’t want to think of her now. Thinking of her made him want to be human. Filled him with a desire to be someone else. She didn’t fit in his mind right now. Not with what he planned to do. What his beast demanded he do.

  Carl stood inside the closed space waiting, his bare chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. He was nervous. Rightly so, Jamie thought. His pulse thrummed in his neck and the saltwater on his skin mixed with his sweat. The last time he’d seen Carl, Jamie had been lying drugged on the floor. Carl had called him a traitor. Carl had left him thirty seconds away from being blown to pieces. Jamie wondered if he could wait that long before he ripped Carl’s head from his shoulders. He’d give Carl thirty seconds and not a second more.

  They’d killed his father. They’d tried to kill him.

  “You remember the last time we had a gathering and we came here.” Carl turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning the walls as though they stood in a mansion. “You remember don’t you?”

  “It’s still a bit fuzzy,” Jamie said. He was tired of remembering. There were some things now he wished he could forget.

  Twenty-five seconds.

  “You, me, Noah, and Jeb. We spent a lot of time here, playing at war. I was always envious. It seemed inevitable your tribe would emerge as one of the strongest. Take a position of leadership.”

  Is that why Carl had led him here? He hoped to appeal to Jamie’s sense of nostalgia, sharing boyhood memories? Did Carl think it would change Jamie’s mind about what he had to do now that he’d remembered?

  Fifteen seconds.

  “You made sure that didn’t happen,” Jamie said, seeing them as boys again. A time before they understood the dangers of tribe politics and the ambitions of those who wanted power. Carl was a fool if he thought the passing of time would erase what they’d done to his family.

  "We were friends once, Jamie. We can be again. We can be more. We can be comrades. We're willing to forget. Start over. We'll give you a place. Your tribe will have a voice." Carl’s gaze hit Jamie's with zealous focus. “I would think that would appeal to you, especially now. In case you haven't noticed, you don't have a place among these people anymore."

  Ten seconds.

  "What makes you think I would ever agree to join you in this farce of a world you want to build?"

  “It’s not a farce. It’s going to be a reality. It already is.”

  "And who would lead us? You? Flores?" Jamie couldn't hide the scorn he felt speaking their names. They could offer him Atlantis and Jamie would still reject them.

  Five seconds.

  "Flores made mistakes. And we learned from them. The world needs to see a united species. Think of it Jamie. Our own country. The ability to self-govern. It's not a dream. It can be real."

  Carl was good. Outwardly he appeared calm. In control. But Jamie knew differently. He heard the struggle to keep his breathing even, his pulse skittering wildly.

  "I've watched you with your tribe. You command respect. They'll follow you. You go, your tribe goes with you. That's what she gave you. Don't squander such a gift. Don’t risk further loss of life.”

  Time was up. Jamie felt the heat searing through his body again.

  Jamie grabbed Carl by the neck, slamming him into the brick wall, holding him there by the throat. Pieces
of mortar and dirt sprinkled over Carl’s shoulders, falling at Jamie’s feet. He must have drawn blood. Jamie smelled it. Carl’s blood. Jamie’s mind coalesced around the scent. All he needed was a drop and Jamie could find him anywhere. The Gulf wouldn't be big enough to dilute his smell. Not now that he'd caught his scent.

  Jamie bent over, his lips close to Carl's ear. "I'd like to splatter your brains all over this wall, but this place holds too many memories for me." Good memories, and he wouldn’t let Carl spoil them.

  "Spill my blood and you risk starting a war,” Carl said, his breath hot, his eyes wild. It was only now dawning on him he might have made a mistake confronting Jamie.

  "I didn't start this. You did,” Jamie sneered, his voice filled with all the power of the waves. The wind howled, his patches of skin where the Deep resided were on fire. “But I will finish it. Starting with you.”

  “Think of your family, your tribe. You know what we’re capable of. We killed you once, we’ll do it again.”

  Jamie wanted to laugh. Instead the sound that came out of his mouth was a growl. Heat sizzled on his chest, his back, his face.

  "Watch out, Jamie. Your monster is showing. Is that why the human girl doesn't want you anymore? She thinks you're a monster? That’s what you are to this subspecies. They never would have let you go. They would have kept you locked up forever, because they don’t understand you.”

  Jamie's chest heaved as he wrestled for control. His enemy was in his hands. Carl’s pulse beat under Jamie's fingers. It gurgled in his ears and still his words struck on a note of truth, bringing Erin once again to the forefront of his thoughts. Her face. The trepidation he’d seen in her eyes that first night on her bed though she’d done her best to hide it. The fear she still denied.

  "You want to kill me, don't you?" Carl taunted him, a challenge in his eyes. He licked his lips.

  Yes, Jamie wanted to kill him. More than anything. All it would take was the slightest pressure and he could snap the man's neck. Jamie envisioned it. Heard the crack of bone in his head, the sweetest sound.