you?” The voice laughs, the sound like a volley of bullets. “Then why am I here?”
“You’re a ghost. A nightmare. Nothing more.”
“So it would seem....”
I jerk upward gasping, sweat dampening my neck and back. My entire body is shaking from the visceral dream. I can still feel her tentacles cutting into me like a fiery brand. Of its own volition, my gaze slides down to the vinelike navy tattoo winding around the tops of my shoulders and neck. I take a breath, banishing the remnants of fear. The tattoo is a mark of the bonding with Lo, nothing more. It’s not alive. There are no tentacles. And Ehmora is dead.
Still, the implication of the dream is haunting. I felt so powerless and alone in the abyss, unable to move or act. The phantom Ehmora’s last words were so utterly chilling...so knowing...that I can’t help the shiver winding its way through me.
Attempting to exorcise my irrational fears, I step out to the patio and into the cool night air and lie back on a lounger to stare into the dark sky. It’s a cloudy night, with no moon or stars visible above. The wind whistles through the tops of the palm trees along the edges of the property, growing louder by the second. The unpredictable shift is in response to me—I’m sure of it.
I’ve always had a tempestuous relationship with weather, and while I’ve learned to harness my emotions, sometimes it’s impossible to keep it all in. For a heartbeat, instead of suppressing my feelings, I release my inner demons, watching as jagged lightning rips the sky into two. Sure enough, the first droplets of rain hit my face and bare legs. The ensuing storm is violent but brief, the angry purple sky fading as the clouds part to reveal a gilded sliver of moon. The release feels good as the rain intensifies into a pelting force and I relish the sting, letting it filter through me. Eventually the rain gentles to something more tender as my thoughts drift to Lo. The drops of water from above mix with the salty tears on my face, and I allow myself the luxury of crying for the first time in months.
A queen must show no weakness.
Curled into a ball with sobs racking my body, I don’t even notice the gentle stroking across my shoulder at first. But after a few seconds, I lean back into the person lying beside me on the lounger, hugging me from behind.
“It hurts too much,” I choke out.
“It’s okay, child.” Soren’s voice is soft, pulsing in our language. Her fingers are softer still, caressing my back in a soothing motion.
“I did it, Soren,” I whisper brokenly. “I made it happen.”
“No, my lady,” she says. “You could not have predicted any of this. You did what you thought was best to keep him safe. To keep all of us safe.”
“He should have been with me. In Waterfell. Not here. And not alone.” My words are raw, shattered gasps, clawing their way out of my throat. “He couldn’t have known what bonding would feel like, either. And I pushed him away, ripping us both apart when we should have been together. Thinking it would be better. For both of us. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t.”
Soren turns me around gently to face her, her eyes flashing green fire. “Don’t do this to yourself, Nerissa. It is what it is.” She wipes the tear-rain combination from my face with her thumb. “Lo is seeing the neurosurgeon this week. We’ll know more then on how we can help him.”
“We don’t know that we can help him,” I say in a defeated voice. “His human DNA is doing things that we have no experience with.”
“He’s Aquarathi, too,” Soren says. “Which means his capacity to heal is better than any human’s.”
I meet her eyes, hope blooming softly. “I hope you’re right.”
“See what the doctor says, and we’ll go from there. Come on, let’s get you back to bed. Big day of school tomorrow.”
“Soren, did you talk to Speio? About what I saw on the beach?”
Soren nods, her face grim. “No traces of anything.”
“Was he sure?”
She pulls me close in a warm embrace. “Don’t worry. Echlios will make sure Speio didn’t miss anything. Now, you need to get some rest.”
Despite Soren’s comforting words, I can’t help feeling a sense of dread, like an invisible net is closing in, one that we can’t see or avoid no matter how hard we try. I know what I saw earlier—it was one of Cano’s creatures...watching...and wanting me to see it. Taunting me...Cano’s way of saying I have no idea what’s coming next. And the truth is, none of us do. Not even with Lo. At the end of the day, he’s still a cross-species alien/human hybrid, and anything the neurosurgeon says will be speculation at best.
With a last look at the rapidly clearing skies, I allow Soren to walk me back to my room, where I fall into a fitful sleep.
* * *
“Come on, slowpoke!” Jenna shouts, slamming her locker shut. “English is this way. Forget how to navigate these hallowed halls already?”
I haven’t exactly forgotten, but the sight of Cara all over Lo at the far end of the lockers is already making me sick to my stomach. It’s not so much her flirting that’s getting me...it’s the look on Lo’s face, as if he’s enjoying every minute of it. Which, I remind myself, he’s bound to...he’s a boy.
I remember Jenna’s words from yesterday evening when we’d driven back from the beach. Fight fire with fire.
Of course, it didn’t help that she made me watch Grease for inspiration—girl-next-door tutorial on how to lure the quintessential bad boy—emphatically stating that there’s nothing that black leather pants can’t accomplish. Laughing, I told her she’d have to kill me before getting me anywhere near leather pants. But she has a point. He’s not exactly going to notice me if I’m a mute wallflower.
Smoothing my hair and cringing inwardly, I take a deep breath, lick my lips and strut past them.
“Hey, Lo,” I say in a breathy voice, blushing furiously at how ridiculous I must sound. But obviously he doesn’t think so. Neither does Cara. They both stare at me—him with an appreciative smile, and her, not so much. But I’m not there to win Cara over. I’m there for Lo. “You heading to English?” I ask him, ignoring her scowl. “I wanted to ask you something about Sawyer.”
“Yeah,” Lo says, grabbing his books. “What’s up?”
Elated, I ignore Jenna’s raised eyebrows and congratulatory wink from the rear of the room as we walk into class together. I turn slightly and see Cara trailing behind us, her face a hilarious combination of thunder and puke. Sawyer waves, and Lo plunks down in a vacant seat next to him. I take the spot next to Jenna and stifle a grin as Cara is forced to grab one of the few open seats at the front of the class.
Nerissa, one. Cara, zero.
Mr. Donovan clears his throat and pushes his spectacles up on his nose, smiling widely. “Welcome, class, we have a few new faces this week.” Everyone looks around in unison to check out the “new faces.” So far, it looks like one new girl and a guy who I thought graduated last year. Guess not. Oh, and me, which would explain why everyone’s staring at me as if I have a bull’s-eye tattooed on my forehead.
