“Maybe,” he said, “but I won’t be able to relax.”
“Yes you will,” I said and pulled away, grabbing his hand to drag him across the room and up the stairs into his old bedroom.
As much as I knew the smell was coming, I tried not to let it bother me as the familiar aroma of chipped wood filled my nostrils. He followed me up the stairs without complaint and when I pushed him down to sit on the creaking mattress, his shoulders relaxed. Standing before him, I traced the new cuts with my fingers. They were already scabbing over and he didn’t flinch when I brushed my fingers over them. He merely stared at me as though each movement enchanted him. I smiled to myself and bit my lip.
Placing both hands on the side of his face, I turned his chin upward and kissed him fully on the mouth. His lips parted for only a moment and he sighed heavily when I pulled back. Taking my advantage, I pushed him down onto the mattress, his head resting on the pillow. I sat on the edge of the bed and ran my fingers through his hair.
With one more brush of my lips, I whispered to him, “Sleep now.”
He did as he was bid, and when his eyes closed I felt the small weight in my stomach release. At least for now, we could keep the past at bay.
Looking around the room, my eyes alighted on the small window on the opposite wall. It would be my only view of the outside. Moving toward it, I looked into the glass, trying to ignore the slightly startled expression of the girl staring back at me. She seemed paler than normal and her eyes stood out from the rest of her face, the sea-green pools shining with an ethereal glow. She was foreign to me, more serious than I ever remembered, and the memory of her musical voice rose in my mind.
The glass fogged from my breaths. My new abilities of sight and sound made me more secure in our surroundings. If I strained, I could hear the ocean waves crashing on the shore and I knew if I stepped outside, the steady roar from the waterfall would be audible.
Everything looked new, as though I had never really seen the island before. I hadn’t noticed the difference right away, as though my body was slowly changing. I could see the veins in the leaves of all the trees surrounding us, the individual blades of grass in the clearing below. Each sight was interesting and at the same time there was a yearning within me, not to see any of it at all.
A heavy exhale passed through Zale’s parted lips and I turned to look at him again. Even in the cloudy night my eyesight was growing stronger. I could trace the fine lines of his face, the relaxed creases of his brow, and the curved indent along the right side of his mouth where he sometimes smiled. His face was peaceful, his body having settled into the deep rhythms of much-needed sleep. Part of me was jealous of the level of calm he was able to achieve.
Sitting down in the rocking chair next to the bed, I watched his chest rise and fall, the motion of the chair moving into the same rhythm. My fingers tightened and as I focused on them, closing my eyes and demanding them to appear; the blades shot forth from my skin.
In some way it felt the same as the first time I had seen my fins, or even when I had witnessed the shimmer of the lavender on my hip. The blades were both captivating and dangerous at the same time. There was something about them which drew me in, making me want to touch them, and still I knew their power was dangerous. I remembered the first time I had seen them up close, when Morven had cut off a piece of his own flesh and placed it within me. Then there was the second time, when Kryssa had shown me what mermaid blades looked like in the dim light of her bedroom during my first visit to Lathmor. Since then I had seen various blades hundreds of times, but never so close.
Maybe it was my growing eyesight, or I had never really noticed before, but I had always thought the blades were a sort of miraculous metal the merfolk were able to produce. Now I saw I was completely wrong.
They shimmered, flashing like metal, but they were made of scales; the same scales my fins were made of. The packed scales clung to one another to form the blades, their tightly knit-structure forming a dangerously sharp bond.
Retracting the blades on my right hand, I reached out to touch the tip of the blade on my left thumb. Blood bubbled on the tip almost instantly and I inhaled sharply, retracting the rest of the blades.
Sucking on my newly wounded finger, I continued to rock back and forth in the chair. It thumped every now and again over the slats between the wood planks.
Somehow in the space of a couple of hours I had changed. Maybe I had felt it happening for a long time now, or maybe this was my body’s way of telling me I was different, but I was no longer human. A piece of my heart wanted to cry.
Last year at this time I had been asleep, knowing when I woke, my father would have a birthday rose waiting on my bedside table. He had given me one for every single birthday I had been alive, and the loss of not having one this year was something I would have to live with.
It was only a simple rose, but it was mine, and as I rocked back and forth I held the seventeen he had given me, dear to my heart, wishing I was somehow home to hold onto the eighteenth.
_______________
As soon as I saw the beach I knew what was going to happen. I tried to run away from the crashing waves, even as the hammering rain pounded against my bare shoulders. I pushed against the slippery sand, desperately trying to gain a foothold as I ran along the icy shore. The water was all around me, coming in on both sides, pouring forth from the darkened sky. Each breath clouded before my mouth and when he called my name, I froze. I knew what I would see if I turned, and yet, I didn’t want to. My body betrayed me, I spun around his gaze meeting mine. He was shirtless, the water rushing over his body in perfect rivers and the coil of fear tightened in the pit of my belly. I swallowed hard, unsure of what to do, or say. He raised his left hand to me, a scar on his forearm and I felt the cut on my hip stir. His palm faced open, beckoning me to him. Again, my feet moved of their own accord and before I could stop it, my hand was grasped within his. He whispered the name again and a shiver ran through me, covering my flesh in goosebumps. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and still I didn’t fight him, even as he pulled me close to his bare chest, speaking my new name over and over again in my ear. I didn’t stop him, not even when he turned me around and looming shadows approached. Then he said one word, a command, crying out for me to do his will and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Gathering his desire in mind, I began to form the tune and opened my mouth, letting the song take wind. Even as a tear slipped down my cheek, he held on to me. His lips pressed against my neck, and I watched those before us fall beneath my voice. I could do nothing to stop it. Wansa’s blank eyes were staring up at me, Gendra beside her. Only when the last body fell, did he lift his head from my neck to whisper the name once more…Marina…
I woke with a shuddering gasp and sat up startled. My chest was heaving as I tried to throw the images of the dream from my mind, even as my limbs trembled with fear. Slowly, sanity reigned, and once my heart was back to its normal pace I settled back down on the soft mattress.
Rolling onto my side, I glimpsed the gray sky blotted with pudgy clouds, weighed down with heavy burdens. They rumbled past one another and still the sky was lighter than when I had fallen asleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Zale had risen from the bed to give me a chance to rest. We hadn’t spoken a word, though he had remained in the room until I was fully asleep. In some way, he was aware of how difficult it was for me to drift into unconsciousness, especially after the happenings on Lathmor. My sleep had been anything but restful in the coolness of the early morn, and though I knew I would have to get up, a part of me wanted to remain in sinful comfort for only a moment longer.
The smell of him, saltiness mixed with a manly musk, remained on the pillow where my head lay. I inhaled deeply, letting a smile warm over my face even as I felt foolish by the action. Curling into a ball for only a moment longer, I reveled in the comfort surrounding me and let out a huff.
The covers fell off with a shocking coolness. I
stood and wrapped my arms around my body in an effort to retain some of the earlier warmth. I moved as though a shadow through the pale morning light, across the room and down the stairs, my eyes searching and finding his silhouette near one of the windows. His back was turned to me, but I knew he heard my approach. I would never move quietly enough to keep my presence unknown to him.
When I reached his side, he tucked me gently beneath his arm and I inhaled the scent of him once more. This time it was fresher; not the lingering remembrance of a lost presence, but a vibrant closeness.
“Hey,” I said simply, leaning my head against his broad chest. In a way I felt as though I had upgraded my comfort from the bed upstairs.
“Bad dream?” he asked quietly, his words more of a statement than a question.
“Yeah,” I said and forced myself not to recall the nightmare. Days were filled with light, but the night always returned, and with it came the images my mind conjured of a churning shore and unspeakable horror. A shiver ran through my body as I thought of the blood in my dream once more.
“You didn’t sleep very long,” he noted and I nodded. It had been growing lighter in the sky when he had risen from the bed. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than two hours.
“That’s the problem with bad dreams,” I said around a yawn and looked up at him.
A crooked grin lifted one side of his mouth, “Anything I can do to help?” he asked, pulling me a little tighter against his side.
“You already have,” it was my turn to smile, and I did so with gusto. “Have you seen anything?”
He shook his head immediately and turned his gaze back out the window. “I think we’re alone,” he said and I couldn’t help the lightness in my heart as some of my worry lifted. I knew it wouldn’t be forever, but I couldn’t let the cloud of fear from my nightmare hang over me all day.
For a long time we stood together, wrapped in each other’s arms. He rubbed my shoulder gently and as the pattern he traced along my skin grew obvious, I found my eyes closing once more. Maybe I would be able to sleep better if he was by my side.
Somehow, as the sky grew lighter and the clouds continued to roll over one another, we remained still. A perfect picture, transfixed. The stirrings of something gathered within me and I felt my heart spread open beneath my chest. Maybe it was joy, maybe it was peace, but more than anything I knew it had to do with a feeling of coming home. I was comfortable here with him, knowing he accepted me for what I was and his knowledge of my love for him was enough.
“So this was mine?” he asked, his voice suddenly rumbling in his chest. I turned my chin to look up at him. His gaze was not on the outside, but instead roving over the walls and wooden frames. I pushed back, if only slightly and he turned to look toward the fireplace.
“Yes,” I said, treading carefully.
“And I built it?”
“Yes,” I said again. He pursed his lips, and as he took in the rest of the room I realized where his thoughts had been while I was sleeping. Maybe I wasn’t the only one to dwell over the past.
“It doesn’t feel right,” he confessed. When he glanced my way there was cautiousness in his eyes. He too was taking this slowly. We were tiptoeing over glass, moving with careful precision.
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering what sort of conclusions he had come up with in the past few hours.
“It’s just,” he raised a hand and ran it through his thick-golden hair, “well, it’s too hard to explain.”
“Really?” I quirked one eyebrow and folded my arms. “I’m going to have to say I don’t believe that.”
He huffed, and turned away from me. As he walked toward the fireplace, he placed a hand on the top of it, the motion so similar to Patrick, my breath caught in my throat.
I would have thought the recollections of his past self would have no effect on me now, but it seemed I was wrong. Each time I saw a glimpse of his former self, whether it was the way he stood or cocked his head to the side to listen to something off in the distance, or the way his hair shined in the dim sun—it was all a reminder of who he used to be. The past blinked back at me through wide eyes, a portal to what had once been.
Unaware of the memories stirring inside me, he spoke. “This place is proof that I’m who you say I was, but I can’t understand that person.”
I remained still, though I couldn’t really comprehend what he was saying. How would I ever be able to explain what he had meant to me? And what he meant to me now?
“You’ve told me about who he was, or I was, I guess.” He shook his head as though his thoughts were a mess. “But the thing is, I don’t remember any of it. All of this should be enough to remind me of who I was, but there’s nothing that looks familiar. You told me I built this place, but all my hands know how to do is kill.” He looked down at his open palms, the nearly-healed wounds from the night before decorated his arms, declaring the truth of his words. “Whatever I was before, I’ll never be again.”
He said the words with finality and when he raised his head to meet my gaze once more, I saw the question in them. He didn’t know I had accepted all of this long ago. He was mine, whether he was Patrick or Zale. He was my warrior.
17. Removed
As though of one mind, we set off for the waterfall. The sky still hung with the shrouded fog of weighted clouds, and the leaves strained in the wind to hang onto the tree branches, sometimes letting go all together. We walked side by side, our arms brushing one another time and again.
Even though we had been offered this brief respite from the happenings of Lathmor, we knew it wouldn’t last long. The belt of daggers around Zale’s waist was enough proof of what he thought could happen if the island was discovered. Along with my dagger, I had two other knives strapped tightly around my waist.
The roar of the waterfall surged up ahead and my heart lightened at the prospect of seeing it once again. Patrick and I had visited it many times, but the moments I had shared with Zale in the depths of the pool would always be at the forefront of my mind. Simply thinking of the moment made the carving on my dagger press into my skin, and my throat went dry.
Picking up my pace, I began to jog as we got closer. A smile spread across my lips when he caught up to me, and before I knew what was happening, we were running at full speed through the early morning air toward the rushing water ahead.
A small thrill of laughter escaped my lips and when he looked at me, I pressed my advantage, trying to surpass him. He wasn’t fooled and only picked up his pace, forcing me to chase him.
He was ten steps in front of me when we pushed past the last of the trees. He came to a stop at the water’s edge, turning around to meet me. I figured he would tease me for his triumph and decided not to give him the chance.
I didn’t pause for a moment but ran head-on directly for him. The split-second astonishment on his face was enough of a reward to make me laugh, as I slammed into his chest.
He lost his balance, teetering on the edge for a mere moment until he gave in and wrapped his arms around me. We shattered into the water with a terrific splash and the laughter escaping my mouth was at once embarrassing and helpful. The horrors of the previous night were finally falling behind.
He continued to hold me to him, the water swirling around us, and I struggled to push away. Somehow I felt weak in the water, as though it was stronger than me. I pushed against him again, and when he finally let go, my head broke the surface, only to meet his gaze.
It took a second longer for me to realize what was so odd, looking down I saw my legs instead of the lavender scales I had grown accustomed to.
“What the—?” I said, more to myself than anyone, and he laughed. The velvet sound broke through his lips, echoing around the waterfall. My hair was already drying, floating gently in what little breeze stirred inside the secluded cove.
“Stop it,” I teased and splashed water his way. Only now was I realizing how foolish I had been. My initial instinct was no longer in place.
Now that I was a full-fledged mermaid I would be able to control my fins.
“You should have seen your face,” he said, treading water with perfect ease. Humor glinted in his eyes and I had to smile, even as my cheeks warmed with color.
“It didn’t feel right,” I said and splashed water his way again, it caught him full in the face but he didn’t even look away. “I’ve had a lot of changes in the last twenty-four hours.”
“True,” he pursed his lips and scooted closer to me. I kicked away, the strands of my hair clinging to my dark clad arms and chest. “Come here,” he beckoned.
“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that,” I said and kicked harder.
He didn’t need any further encouragement as he came after me with powerful strokes, his large arms slicing into the water and pulling him closer to me with a definite ease.
His hand brushed against the top of my foot and I cried out, turning onto my stomach to swim away from him. The waterfall loomed before me and I pushed toward it, diving under the foaming white cloud, only to come up on the other side. When my head broke the surface, I could barely hear his approach above the din of the rushing curtain of water.
His hand encircled the wrist which held my dagger and when he pulled me to him, I pretended to kick away. A rocky ledge was to my back, and pressed against the dark shirt I wore, prickling my skin. His eyes gleamed in the shrouded gray beneath the waterfall. When he shook out his hair, a few drops landed right in front of me. For a moment, the locks hung loose around his head, and within the next, they were dry and drifting in the water-sprayed air.
My toes brushed against a submerged stone and I was just able to stand with my head out of the water. He came closer, turning my chin up before he brought our mouths together. I inhaled deeply, smelling him, tasting him and letting him twist his fingers into my hair. He seemed to tower above me as his feet took over the little stone I had been precariously standing on. Part of his chest and shoulders remained out of the water and when I reached up to lace my fingers behind his neck, his arms slid around my back to lift me up out of the water.
Torrents (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 3) Page 25
