The shirt would be fine, but Abigail wasn’t as tall as his mother. The pants would have to be rolled up and perhaps belted at the waist.
“It’s fine,” Abigail managed, looking small and worn under the gray wool blanket. “Thank you.”
His mother carried the food into the kitchen and disappeared through the swinging door.
“Grayson, show her how the taps work,” his father instructed, putting two fresh towels in his hand. He took the blanket off of Grayson’s shoulder. “And make sure there’s enough soap and all that.”
“Come on.” Grayson took the lead on the stairs. The wooden staircase creaked under their weight. When they reached the top of the stairs, he turned left and then left again to his own bathroom at the end of the hall.
He placed the towels on the sink, aware of Abigail standing beside him.
“It’s backwards. You turn the handle this way for hot, and this way for cold. If it sputters, it’s just air in the pipes. It’ll kick back up in a second. Don’t let the rattle scare you.”
He left the tap on hot and pulled up the stop. The water was diverted from the spout to the showerhead, spraying the basin in a gentle rain.
Abigail handed him the blanket and began to undress.
He shouldn’t care. He’d seen her naked before. But he still backed toward the door.
“I’ll put the clothes outside the door,” he said.
He thought it best to look her in the eyes, rather than chance staring at anything else.
But when he looked into her eyes, she was crying.
“It was you,” she said, standing there naked in his bathroom, with the hot water running into a cream-colored tub.
His heart hammered in his chest.
“When the siren—I wanted it because—” She bit her quivering lip. Her hand fisted on the burgundy shower curtain. “When he was—he looked like you.”
Then Grayson understood what she was trying to say. The male siren had caught up to her and she hadn’t resisted him.
It was Grayson she’d been making love to as her boyfriend was killed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. All of it, he guessed.
But she’d already climbed inside the shower and had pulled the curtain closed between them.
Grayson showered in his parents’ bathroom.
Then after he put the fresh clothes on the sink for Abigail, he went downstairs to find his parents sitting around the dining room table.
Grayson had always loved this table. It was strange and ornate and looked more like a table built for 1920s seances than for family dinners. But it was one of the many charming features of their restored home.
“Come sit with us,” his mother said. She was trying not to sound desperate, which Grayson appreciated. A swell of affection filled his chest.
After his shower, he found he could eat after all. The headache building behind his eyes and the shaking in his exhausted limbs begged him to eat something. “Let me grab some food first.”
He went into the kitchen and pulled a white ceramic plate from the shelf. He loaded it with pineapple fried rice, lo mien, General Tso’s chicken, and three pieces of crab rangoon.
He grabbed a sparkling water from the fridge and carried it into the dining room.
He sat down between his parents, knowing that was where they wanted him.
“Your father and I talked and we decided to waive the no-girls-sleeping-in-your-room policy,” his mother said.
“Good call. I don’t think she’ll sleep alone.”
“But we want you to leave the door open,” his father added.
Grayson didn’t even fight them. He didn’t care.
His mind kept replaying the image of Landon tossing in the surf, his pale body thrashing in the waves.
“We don’t have to talk about what happened,” his mother began. Her words had the practiced air about them. She was a professor, but Grayson was certain that it was also because she liked to rehearse what she would say in her mind long before saying it. He was like his mother in this way.
And when had she composed this speech? In the car on the way home? When he was in the shower? Or maybe even in the car on their way to retrieve their almost dead son.
“Especially if you’re tired,” his father added. “The swim alone must’ve been exhausting, not to mention—” There was a jerk under the table and Grayson was fairly sure his mother had just kicked him. His father grimaced. “We just want you to know we’re proud of you.”
“Don’t be,” Grayson said. “Landon is dead.”
He pushed the rice around on his plate with the back of his fork.
His father reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “You couldn’t do anything about that.”
“I should’ve done more. I should’ve—”
“If anyone is to blame for Landon’s death, it’s the authorities,” his mother interjected. “They should have announced the attack. There should’ve been a notice to stay out of the water. This town—”
“Lill,” his father said and her mouth snapped shut.
“I’m just saying. How are people supposed to stay safe if they aren’t properly informed?”
His father fixed him with his gaze again. “You’re not to blame for what happened and we’re proud of you for handling the situation the best you could.”
“Please stop saying that,” Grayson said. He couldn’t sit at this table with his Chinese food and be congratulated by his parents as if he’d won some prize. Landon was dead.
Landon was dead and—
“Keeping your cool in a dangerous situation is no small feat.” It was his mother speaking. “It’s going to take a long time to get over this. Maybe you’ll never completely get over this loss. But we wanted you to know that we are here and we’ll do anything we can to help you. If you need something, tell us.”
This loss.
They weren’t even saying his name.
He understood all of the words coming out of their mouths. He even understood that the reason he was here at the table while his best friend was dead on a beach was because he’d been blessed with smart, patient parents who’d prepared him to survive.
And it was more than that. He’d gotten lucky. He’d been damn lucky.
Then why was he so angry? Why did he feel like he shouldn’t be the one in the chair? Why did it feel like it was unfair that Landon should be dead and that he should be alive? Why did he want to trade places with him?
I wanted it to be you, Abby had said.
“If you need anything—” his mother was saying again.
He exhaled and pushed away from the table. “I need some air.”
“We’d rather you stay in the house,” his father said.
His mother shot him another look and his father grimaced as if expecting another kick.
“But we won’t tell you what to do,” his mother said. “But why don’t you go to bed? You’ve had one hell of a night.”
“A hell of a birthday,” he murmured. “I think I’ll...”
Grayson Choice 4
Go for a walk
Go to bed
Reese: Agree to go to the caves
“I’ll go tomorrow,” Reese said, shifting against the creaking bench. “Once the sun is up.”
It wasn’t only the dangers of night swimming across open waters that concerned her. It was also that she was dead tired all of a sudden—she wondered if Ethan could be blamed for this immense loss of energy.
His mischievous grin betrayed him. “That is very wise. It will be best to go during the day when the sirens are tired and sluggish. They are as nocturnal as we are. Actually I suppose you are crepuscular, aren’t you? My apologies.” He took another sip of wine, his lips even redder than before.
Quite kissable, Reese thought. She wondered if it was the fragrant garden—or Ethan that was going to her head. Danger a little voice warned. Danger, Reese. The voice sounded like Violet’s.
“Observe as much as you can and report back to me tomorrow evening. I will compensate you however you wish.”
This stopped her in her tracks.
His grin turned wicked as if sensing her excitement. “Do you have a preference as to how you are compensated?”
Reese didn’t want for money. Her aunt was generous and doting, and Reese made good money as a bartender. All of this was made easier by the fact Reese had few needs.
But this was Ethan Benedict she was speaking to.
“I would like a favor,” she said.
He leaned back, his smile amused. “And I long to please you. What is your wish?”
“I don’t know.” Now she was the one grinning. “But if I ever find myself in trouble someday, it would be nice to know that I can call on you for...assistance.”
Ethan considered his glass of wine for a moment before taking another slow, luxurious sip. When Reese saw the fire spring into his eyes, another chill seized her spine. Had she overstepped? Had she asked too much?
He extended his hand. “In exchange for your help with this situation, I offer my protection. No harm will come to you on my watch.”
“Deal.” She slid her palm into his.
Quick as lightning, his hand seized hers and pulled. She was yanked from her seat forward across the lit walkway and into Ethan’s lap. Her body collided with his. He was warm, the way living vampires were warm after they’d fed. His chest didn’t give as she pushed against it.
But it wasn’t just his arms around her, or the press of his chest against hers.
It was his lips.
His soft, pillowy lips overtook hers. Her surprise came out as a sigh, or moan before she could stop it.
“This is how I seal my pacts,” he said, his breath warm on her face.
Reese stood, stumbling back from the demon. He let her go with a lazy, triumphant grin on his face.
“You have my word, Reese. Should you ever need me, I will be happy to help you.”
“T-thank you.” She tugged at the bottom of her shirt which had ridden up to reveal her stomach.
He pointed at the French doors with the empty wine glass. “And now I’ll lead you out.”
His tone brooked no argument.
She’d made it all the way to the front door when she turned and saw Liam descending the right side staircase. His hair was wet and curling. He was buttoning the cuff on a clean white dress shirt that he’d tucked into tight, dark pants.
Reese realized she was staring.
“He’s very beautiful, isn’t he?” Ethan whispered into her ear. The warm breath made the hairs on her neck rise. “You should see him on his knees.”
Heat shot through her body, tightening muscles low in her core.
“Don’t let him get to you, Reese,” Liam said. His eyes were on Ethan. “He likes to play with his food.”
Ethan tsked. “I haven’t fed on her, my love. Much.”
Reese had become aware of how close Ethan was standing behind her left shoulder. And with Liam standing in front of her, she was practically sandwiched between the two men.
“He likes shifter magic more than any meal in the world,” Liam explained. He was giving Ethan a wary look. “It reminds him of Vendetta.”
“Telling all my secrets, my love?” Ethan asked. It felt like his lips were micrometers above her skin.
“She deserves to know she’s the prey. It’s unfair when they think otherwise.” He turned to Reese. “He’ll get drunk on you if you let him. Better get out of here before he drains you dry.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Ethan said, in mock outrage. But he was practically purring in her ears.
Reese fumbled for the door handle, her face so warm she thought she would begin to sweat.
Liam took pity on her and threw the door wide, offering her the night. She burst out onto the porch, the fresh air hitting her with all the force of an ocean wave.
“Good night,” she managed before the door closed behind her.
She breathed deep, letting the cool air beat back the magic. For a moment she turned and stared at the front door as if she expected Ethan to come after her. But the front door remained closed. In her mind, she imagined Liam leaning against it, barring the demon’s path.
Why had he helped her?
Whatever the reason, she owed Liam and she knew it. Whether or not he was the sort of person to draw on such debts, she didn’t know. But the tally mark had already been made in her mind. With a slight tremor in her arms, which she recognized as falling adrenaline, she climbed into her truck.
The tree limbs blocking the road pulled back reluctantly this time—or was she only imagining that? Just be glad they pulled back at all, she thought as she pressed the gas pedal a little harder.
The next day she ate and drove to the beach. Rather than park on the side of the road, she decided to park in the South Beach parking lot. This gave her a view of the dilapidated castle on the cliff. It looked like a tired, weathered beast on the edge of suicide. With its cold stone crumbling, it looked ready to throw itself into the sea.
She’d heard the story of the castle, like any other long-time resident of Castle Cove. Once it had belonged to an evil queen, who had starved her people with her incessant greed and endless campaigns of war.
Vendetta alone had been granted the power to destroy the queen and bring down her queendom. Reese wasn’t sure how much of that was true or embellished. But here were the ruins.
She descended to the beach carefully, doing her best to keep her footing in the sliding sands.
Once she reached the water’s edge, she looked around to ensure she was alone.
She walked the eastern edge of the beach, hoping this little nook close to the cliffs would render her invisible to anyone on the ledge above. Here she stripped, placing her clothes on a large rock that seemed safe from any oncoming waves or rising tides.
She waded out into the water. It was cool, no doubt because of its depth, but not unbearable.
Once the water reached her thighs, she dove under the next wave. Her body transformed. Her muscles thickened. Organs moved. Her face elongated and her limbs condensed themselves into a single, streamlined form.
That instant calm enveloped her, a feeling she only experienced when in this form.
With gentle side-to-side motions, she propelled herself forward. She established an easy rhythm, cutting through the aquamarine waters. She would have to swim south until the rockface ended. Then the plan was to hook around it and swim north-northeast, following the cliffs as Ethan had suggested until she came upon the mouth of the underwater cave.
Her senses stretched out before her, scanning the waters for any other forms of life. She detected a school of fish feeding on even smaller fish off to her right. And also something with a slow, steady rhythm ahead. A turtle, she suspected. Nothing large, nothing dangerous loomed.
She slid through the rock wall using the gap beside Heart’s Rock. Most of her dorsal fin had to break the surface to manage it, but if someone on the beach saw her shark fin, what of it? She was far enough away not to frighten any swimmers.
On this side of the rock wall, the ocean felt vast. Far more vast than she was used to. Reef sharks preferred the tight confines of the reef buffered by an ocean floor. It offered protection on most sides. They were, after all, the big fish in a little pond, so to speak.
Here, with nothing but miles and miles of deep waters on all sides, Reese knew she was exposed. She would have to keep her wits about her, or she could very well end up as lunch for a larger, more opportunistic creature.
She stayed close to the cliff face, scanning the waters around her with unease. After twenty minutes of swimming at a steady pace, the cliff face opened beside her, revealing a deep cavern.
Here, the waters were not so dark. In fact, they shone with crystalline light.
She swam into the cave, marveling at how bright the waters were and how warm as well. There was some light source coming from below.
<
br /> Then she spotted the sirens. They were sleeping, half in, half out the water. Their tails stretched out behind them on the rock ledges like seals sunning in the late afternoon. Reese swam as close as she dared, trying to get a better look at them.
This close, she saw strange black markings on their skin. Rashes or growths, these patches of abnormality were embedded in the skin.
They’re sick, she realized. Would a sickness make them desperate enough to aggressively seek mates on shore? Or maybe the sickness had made them confused about where they were and what they were doing?
She wasn’t sure.
But they were restless even in repose, most fidgeting on their rocks as if they couldn’t get comfortable. One sleepy siren picked at the open sore of another, the black pus oozing into the water like oil.
Reese circled the cave several times and took inventory of the numbers and condition of the sirens. Very few looked untouched by whatever disease this was.
On her last pass in the cavern, she spotted something at the back of the cave. A partially submerged staircase led out of the water. Where it led, she couldn’t be sure from her vantage point beneath the surface. Should she go up and investigate? Maybe she would learn something about the sirens’ environment that would help. Of course, there was the danger they would see her shapeshift and know that she was no mere shark.
Reese Choice 6
Go up the stairs
Swim back
Grayson: Go for a walk
“I think I’ll go for a walk. I need some air,” Grayson said. Fearing that his parents might try to physically restrain him, eighteen years old or not, he walked out into the night before they could object.
The cool night air cooled his wet hair as he walked, his hands stuffed down in his pockets. He didn’t look back until he’d reached the stop sign at the corner.
His dad was on the porch, watching him go. He lifted his hand to wave. Grayson met his wave with one of his own, hoping it would reassure him.
He didn’t want to scare his parents, or put them through undue stress. Grayson understood he had it made in the parent department. They respected him and treated him like an adult, which was more than a lot of his friends could say.
Night Tide Page 9
