“It’s a whip,” I explained, while finding the handle. The cold leather slipped within the palm of my hand and I tried to bite back my repulsion as it uncoiled, the leather hitting the ground like a dropped snake. My fear of what had happened in that cell in Hyvar came rushing over me. For a moment, I could feel the crusted blood on Patrick’s arm as he held on to me through the cell bars, the desperation in his voice as he told me to leave, and the image of his back when I saw it for the first time in my living room.
“A what?” Zale asked, clueless to the thoughts running through my mind.
“You don’t know what this is?” I asked, biting back the bile in my throat. The slashes on his back proved he had seen it before.
Zale shook his head; his eyes alight with a burning desire to know what this new weapon was. It reminded me of the look he’d had the day he drove Sean’s truck for the first time.
His beatings with this weapon were unknown to him and I found, somewhere in my mind, the curiosity to instruct him. There was a reason he didn’t know about this weapon. Had Morven purposefully kept it from him? If that was the case, it was time he found out what it could do. If Morven wanted him to believe he was saved by his master, maybe it was time for him to remember who it was that swung the whip.
“It’s a weapon,” I said and grasped the handle harder. I could feel the familiar hold; the same one Zale had taught me to use to throw my dagger. “You throw your arm forward and the leather snaps, it whips out hitting whatever you were aiming for.”
He nodded his head and took the handle from my fingers. A small shock shot up my arm when his warm fingers brushed over my hand. Slowly and deliberately he examined the whip, then with a quick movement brought it to his shoulder.
“Stop!” I yelled, and grabbed his shoulder. The powerful muscles beneath my hand twitched. “Don’t try that in here!”
By the look on his face, I could see he found me crazy. He shifted, and I tightened my grip but I knew I could do nothing to stop him.
“It’s really long,” I explained, pointing to the floor where the rest of the whip lay pooled on the ground near our feet. “And to tell you the truth, I don’t want to be hit by it.”
He nodded and without a word walked past me out of the weapons room, through his new living space, and outside. I worried he had done some exploring earlier and the thought sent a chill down my spine. To think he was wandering around while Tunder was here, only brought dreadful images to my mind.
I followed him into the sunlight and a cool breeze whipped by; our hair rippled identically in the wind. I knew that it was really rather cold, but my inhuman body adjusted to the temperature, keeping me warm.
Zale walked to an open area and dropped the whip to the ground, the handle still grasped tightly in his palm. Thinking quickly, I moved aside and out of reach.
For a silent moment everything stood still. His muscles rippled in a wave through his body as if making the whip an extension of his hand. He stared at the hand that held the weapon, making not a sound. His chest began to rise and fall in an increasing rhythm, as though he had already exerted himself.
His name formed on my lips without sound, but it was as though he heard me. Gradually, his head lifted and his dark brown eyes met mine. For a moment our eyes locked and I didn’t know why he was staring at me so intently. There was a burning curiosity in his gaze that was imbedded deep within him. He stared at me and then looked back down at the whip in his hand, as though there was a connection. I opened my mouth again to say his name, but just at that moment, he raised his hand.
With a sharp whistle, the whip shot through the air and cracked as it snapped back, once again coiling itself at his feet. His head was still down, staring at his hand, as though he didn’t recognize it. Again, I noticed his chest heaving, and although he tried to control it, his hand trembled.
Ignoring my presence, he cracked the whip again, and again. The desperation in his eyes only satisfied each time he heard the crack. His face would grimace when it snapped, but with each crack he would pause. For just a moment he would hold still, his mind far away searching for something long lost.
Feeling we would be here for a long time, I found a place to sit and pulled out my dagger. After a while, I had a little wooden spear with intricate curls and patterns along the shaft. The sun had long since passed overhead and was now settling near the tree tops. And still the whip cracked, and the face of the warrior glistened with sweat, as he tried desperately to recall something from the past.
_______________
The wind whistled past my ears with a blinding fury, and I squinted through the stormy air. The sky hinted rain but I couldn’t be sure. There was an all-consuming need to search, but to search for what I was uncertain. Then I heard the footsteps approaching behind me. The sand crunched as I spun around against the wind and saw the warrior walking toward me. He didn’t smile when he saw me, but came to my side and grasped my arm tightly. Confused, I followed as he pulled me along the beach. I stumbled in the sand, my feet dragging but he didn’t slow down. Then out of nowhere another hand grasped my other arm. Fearing the dark gaze of the merman who had changed me, I turned slowly and my eyes traveled to his face. I screamed. The warrior came to a stop and I looked to both sides. Zale held my left arm, Patrick held the other. Neither of them looked at me, but instead glared at one another in defiance; I could feel their grips tightening on my arms. Slowly, Zale reached up the sleeve of my shirt and pulled out my dagger. The blade gleamed in the shrouded gray air and he pointed it at Patrick’s chest; my heart thundered. Swiveling my head back and forth between them both, the wind whipped my hair across my face until I fell forward into blackness.
Upon waking later, I remembered the dream vividly and chills spread over my skin. I wasn’t sure if what I was doing was right or wrong, it was all too confusing to think about.
Sitting up, my neck cracked crudely. I had fallen asleep on the wooden bench in the cabin after having come back, while Zale still practiced with the whip. The book I had started reading while waiting for him to return, lay turned over on the floor. My mind had been far off when I started reading and even now I couldn’t remember what the story was about.
It was dark in the cabin, and I made my way over to the front door carefully. A cool breeze brushed my cheeks as I moved out onto the landing, the silence of the night was still and quiet. A prickling thought entered my mind. Where was Zale?
With a heavy sigh, I looked up at the sky and watched my breath disappear in the air. My mind still dazed from sleep, I caught the sight of soft twinkles between the tree branches. The stars sparkled like dew hanging from a spider web, soft and bold at the same time. For a moment, I stood taking in the sight, until a feeling of deja vu spread over me. Puzzled, I tried to think of what the memory was but couldn’t. In frustration, I moved my hand up to my face to wipe away a strand of rippling hair when I felt it; the smooth rush of the soft round pearls sliding down my wrist.
I had kept the bracelet on ever since Zale had given it back to me, but I had never let myself think back to that night. Like a crashing wave, the memories rushed through my mind. One after the other.
It was like watching it all in fast forward, I saw Nixie and Daggin’s wedding, the lights twinkling in the trees, Patrick as he pulled me away, the way he smiled when he gave me the bracelet, the way the bracelet had felt on my wrist that first time, and the words I had said, I’m going to wear this always. You won’t ever see it off me. The memories stopped abruptly, my mind hung on to those last words, looking for meaning. My heaving breaths created small clouds in front of my face.
Wondering why all of this was taking a hold of me now, I began to walk down the steps toward the ground below. Was it because I was here on the island, so close to everything that spoke Patrick’s name? I wasn’t sure but there was a deep and burning desire to be as close to him as I could. My feet were working of their own accord taking me to the cave where I knew I would find Zale, the closest thin
g to Patrick I could get.
Yet, a thought interrupted my reasoning and I stopped walking. Zale would always be Zale. He was an entirely different person; he was no different to be near than any other person would be. I stood transfixed, not knowing what to do when a thought pricked the back of my mind as if it came from some part long lost within me. There was one place I could go to be near him and immediately, I turned and ran in the opposite direction.
The closer I got to the roaring water, the faster my legs pumped. A solid throbbing had wedged its way into my throat and I knew I was going to break down into tears soon. But the need was to mourn, mourn for who he really was, not the one that had been in the cell in Hyvar, but the man that he had been. The recent image of his face from my dream, filled my mind.
With a small cry, I saw the water up ahead and stumbled toward it. Choking on air and trying to hold back the tears behind my eyes, I found the small pathway of rocks that led to the flat ledge on the other side. A small branch captured my foot and I tripped forward onto the flat, solid rock. And the tears graced my cheeks for the only person who knew of this place with me; the one who had shared his delight in the deep pools below.
Sniffing loudly, I inched closer to the rock’s edge and dangled my feet into the water. In my mind, I could see him right below me in the sunlight, his eyes reaching mine. There had been a trust, even when he barely knew me, back when I couldn’t tell him the truth of who I was. He had believed I would never hurt him, but he had been wrong.
I shook my head, trying not to think of what had happened in Hyvar. For too long, I had solely focused on those images. For the first time in what felt like ages, I was able to picture him without the scars, without the pain in his voice. And as the tears fell, they were no longer painful, but joyful in finally being able to remember him without thinking of what had happened.
“Lissie?” the deep voice of the warrior startled me, from where I sat on the rock. My head swiveled to see Zale crossing the same path I had earlier, to get over to the flat ledge. Thinking quickly, I wiped away the rest of the tears slipping down my cheeks. I knew they left no trails on my smooth skin.
He reached my side and sat down without a word, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. He sighed heavily.
“I know the feeling,” he said and I felt him shrug, his shoulder brushing my own.
“What?” I said, looking up.
“The anger. I can see it in your eyes sometimes when you look at me.” He shrugged again. I felt my mouth fall open, as I tried to form a thought, tried to figure out a way to explain.
“It’s not you,” I said, feeling ridiculous, “its me.” But it wasn’t enough.
His mouth quirked at the corner. “That’s exactly what I mean,” he said.
“You do?” I asked, not sure where this was going.
“Of course,” he said, his hands rubbed together and I watched them as he shaped his words. “If there’s anything I know, its anger.”
“I’m not angry,” I pointed out.
“Yes, you are,” he rebutted and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from retorting. “I can see it in your eyes. It’s always there when you look at me, even when you try to hide it.”
My breath caught. How could I have been so stupid to think he would never notice?
“But it’s okay,” he said, his voice growing deeper. “I know what anger can do to you, how it can cloud your judgment and make you do things.” The words fell from his mouth and I felt he was talking more about himself than me.
His hands opened, the palms facing up and I could just make them out in the light off the shimmering pool. Head bowed over his hands, I could barely see the grimace on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s hard for me to explain, but I need you to understand what it feels like, and why I did what I did.”
I waited patiently, not sure of how we had reached this place, not sure of what he was speaking of, but I wanted to know.
“I live in a cloud of anger,” he began, abruptly. “Whenever I am in Hyvar, I can barely think or feel. My mind is distanced from my body and I do things without realizing what I’m doing.” His hands still lay open on his legs.
“I hadn’t felt anything, until,” he stopped and turned to look at me, I could just barely see his eyes. He continued, “Until the night you came into my room looking for the human. That was the first moment I actually felt something. It was like waking up after being asleep for too long.”
My breath caught as I remembered back to that night on Hyvar. I could still hear the words he’d said to me, the ones that declared Patrick’s death. If only I had known then he was standing right in front of me.
“That’s why I came to find you,” his words poured from his mouth. “After you left, I was in the dark again. My body did as it was told and I couldn’t control it. It was only when I thought of you that I could think clearly. And that’s when I left for the first time.”
“From then on, it was you who kept me sane,” he admitted, and reached for my hand. “I’ve been able to keep the anger at bay because of you, so on the night you said you wouldn’t come with me, I let go.”
I knew which night he spoke of. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the look in his eyes, when he’d stood to leave my brothers’ house. I squeezed his hand in response.
“The anger took me, and I was lost to it.” Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered a similar confession. One Patrick had made long ago when he found out the truth about me. That was the day after I had thought I’d lost him. The day he had left the king’s presence in Lathmor, without another look in my direction.
“When I made it back to Hyvar, I gave in to the anger all around me and banished you from my mind,” he said, and his voice shook with something I had never heard before. “I know what I did in Lathmor. I can still here their screams, but the worst thing I ever did, is there on your throat.” My hand lifted to the cut, where the blade of my own dagger, had pricked my skin.
“Yes, that.” He nodded. “If you hadn’t made me look at you, I never would’ve stopped. I would’ve killed you.” He looked away and back down onto the water. “I know saying sorry can never cover what I did, but I thought you needed to know.”
Silence fell between us as we sat side by side holding hands. The rushing waterfall filled our ears, stilling the thoughts that ran through my mind. After wondering for so long, I had my answer. Whether he remembered me from our past or not, there was something in him that called to me.
The thoughts were overwhelming and it was a long time before I could form a clear thought in response to what he told me. I leaned my head against his strong, broad shoulder and sighed, I had never felt more secure in his presence.
“Thank you,” I said, knowing he could never know the depths of my thankfulness.
He chuckled softly, the sound foreign to my ears. I felt his lips press against my forehead. “Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, gently. So he had seen my tears.
“Not really,” I said and shrugged; the movement awkward next to his large body.
“And why is that?” He asked, reaching around my shoulders to draw me closer to him. With his other hand, he brushed my chin and turned it upward. I kept my eyes closed feeling his thumb brush over my lips and then his own mouth met mine. He kissed me gently, coaxing me out of my sadness to respond to him. Slowly, I began to react but only lightly; this was nothing like the kisses we had shared in the cave. They were softer, more delicate and cautious; an acceptance for the apology he’d given me. Gradually he pulled away, his breath caressing my lips.
“Now will you tell me?” The deep voice prodded and I opened my eyes.
Our gazes met in the darkness and I found a gentleness in his eyes I’d never seen before. Yet, there was a darkness still hidden in them, and I knew in my heart if I was going to love him, then the darkness was part of who he was. But I knew he would never again hurt me, never again would I feel physical pai
n from his anger. As much as I wanted to tell him why I was crying, I couldn’t. It was private, something for me to treasure with Patrick’s memory. And now, I could remember him as I always should have. The way he was, bright, vibrant and very much alive.
I shook my head in response to his question.
“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?” Zale said. “What can I do to make you talk?”
I raised my head questioning his choice of words and he smiled ruefully. I smiled back in response, when he suddenly scooped me up into his arms and jumped into the crisp pool, taking me under with him. A cry escaped my throat as the dark fabric of my pants split and my legs stuck together, replaced by the lavender of my fins.
When my head broke through the surface, I glared at him as he treaded water directly across from me, still in human form. Part of me wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face.
“What was that for?” I said, wanting a real answer.
“To get you to talk,” he smiled again and I shook my head in annoyance. “See, you just shook your head. Now we’re communicating.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “That is the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”
“And yet, you laughed.” He pointed out and I splashed water in his direction, which he dodged quickly. “Although I didn’t expect you to transform so quickly.”
“I don’t really have a choice in the matter.” I said offhand, while I tried to pull my black shirt over my head. There was no sense in keeping it on when there was no battle to be fought, and the strip of lavender scales that covered my chest provided me with just as much modesty. The wet fabric sucked free from my skin and I threw it on the rock that had so recently been my resting place. When I turned back around, I found him staring at me.
“What?” I asked wondering if I had done something wrong.
“Why wouldn’t you have a choice?” He asked.
“Because I’m not old enough,” I said. My fins flicked back and forth, infinitesimally moving and yet powerful enough to keep my shoulders above the water. “I’m still seventeen and I can’t control my fins yet. As soon as I’m submerged, I transform.” I shrugged as though it was nothing. The look on Zale’s face said otherwise.
Ripples (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 2) Page 24
