He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “Yes. Being too dry or being out of the water for too long makes me sick.”
I guess that explained why he’d hunched over while yelling—or
mind-
yelling, whatever you wanted to call it—at Isolde. Wincing, I massaged my temples and tried to clear my head. Still reeling from discovering that a mythological species existed in my backyard was a lot to take in.
“Does it hurt?” He rubbed my back. Through the cotton of my hoodie, I felt the circles he traced leaving trails of heat behind them.
“It kills.” I let my hands drop. “I’ve never fainted before. Did I hit my head?”
“Actually, you didn’t pass out.” He looked at me sideways, and that heat in my belly sparked to life. “I did that.”
I shifted away from his touch. “What does that mean?”
“You were panicking, so I put you to sleep. I’m sorry. Your head may ache for a few hours.” I widened my eyes and opened my mouth opened to cuss him out, but he took my hands in his. “Wait. Before you freak out, you need to understand something. I didn’t do it to put you in danger. I did it so that I could move you back from the water’s edge and get you out of Isolde’s line of sight. I was afraid she would shift, and then we’d have even bigger problems on our hands.”
I tried to pull my hands away. “You had no right—”
“You’re right.” He squeezed my fingers, and my hands warmed underneath the ends of my damp sleeves. “And I promise you, I’ll never do it again.”
“How do you do that?” I looked down at my hands. “Put people to sleep? Warm them up? How do you do that to people?”
His face dropped. “Oh, you’ve noticed?”
I gaped at him. “Noticed that whenever you’re around my stomach turns into a deep fryer? Yes, I’ve noticed.”
“How many legends have you heard about Merfolk?”
I tried to think of the stories I’d read about mermaids when I was in the fourth grade and went through a mythical creature phase. I’d covered my walls in pictures of unicorns, faeries, and mermaids and tried to convince my parents to take me to Ireland for summer break so I could hunt leprechauns. Most of the stories I’d read about mermaids painted the picture of murderous wicked creatures who thrived on tricking humans.
“They drowned sailors. They would charm them into jumping out of their boats and then drown them in the ocean. Is it true?”
He looked down. “Not…exactly. That warmth you feel when I am around. That reaction you have to me. It’s because Mer are designed to lure a mate.”
“There you go with the
mate
thing again.”
He chuckled. “Mer mate with humans. And the way we find humans to mate with is by luring them into the water with us. We create a physiological response in humans, and it makes them…susceptible.”
“Then what?”
He looked down. “They have to…um, drown.”
My heart ground to a halt, and I yanked my hands free. “You mean to tell me you’ve been tricking me into liking you, so you could
drown
me?” My hand went into my pocket, and I began fingering the keys on my cell phone. Would I be able to find the numbers 9-1-1 without looking?
“No! I would never hurt you.” He put his hands out defensively. “I was telling the truth when I said I will take whatever time I have with you. But I don’t intend to drown you. Not now, not ever.”
“But eventually, you have to find a mate.” My voice grew shriller by the second. “And then you’ll drown
her
. R-right?”
He sighed and sagged his shoulders. “That’s what is expected of me.”
“That’s sick.” I tried to shift away from him. “How the hell can you mate with someone you’ve drowned?”
“I…” He scruffed a hand across his jaw. “Once they’ve drowned, they’re
changed
.”
The quaking returned, and I used my spare hand to push myself away from him. I was sitting there with a guy…no, wait…a
creature
…that would eventually murder someone. How in the world did I manage to get myself into these situations? My chair was at least three hundred feet up a hill on a skinny, overgrown trail, and I was sitting in the woods having some sort of heart-to-heart with a mythological being who could render me unconscious with his
mind
.
I’d officially outdone myself.
“Take me home. Right now.”
Chapter Seven
After Saxon silently carried me back to my chair, I settled myself in my seat without saying a word to him. When he moved to take hold of the handles, I grabbed the wheels and jerked away from his touch.
“Just stay here,” I hissed, avoiding his gaze. One look at those icy blue eyes, and my resolve would crumble like a stale piece of biscotti for sale at the Deep Lake Coffee Company. The last thing I needed was to feel weak around someone who had plans to drown a human eventually.
He raked both hands through his hair. “Just let me walk you home. Just so I know you’re safe.”
“No!” My voice echoed between the trees. “You need to stay away from me. I mean it.” My heart pulsated so hard inside of my chest, I feared my ribs would crack as I rolled down the trail, away from him.
When I glanced back, my chest tightened, causing a dull ache that soaked through my muscles and into the bones. There he stood, in the center of the trail with his hands in his pockets, and his wavy brown hair hanging over his eyes as he stared down at the ground.
* * *
I surprised myself by keeping my mouth shut when I got home. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I expected it to be. The fact that I just rolled past Evey and Declan in the kitchen to vomit into the garbage can acted as whatever permission I needed to ignore everyone and lock myself in my bedroom for the night.
Even though the headache was gone by the next morning, I claimed to feel like crap, earning a much-needed day at home alone. Gee, and it only took my mother forty minutes of waffling back and forth finally to agree to leave me unattended.
Once my family fumbled their way out the door—notebooks, math assignments, soccer balls, aprons, and coffee cups in tow—I greeted the silence like an old friend. Our household had very little quiet to offer, and every now and again a girl needed some peace to ponder life’s wonders. For instance, why the women in the tampon commercials always danced around wearing white. Or, why boys claimed to want to date a girl who was natural and didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but if you put them in front of a Victoria’s Secret commercial, they’d drool down the front of their shirts.
And, of course, what to do about the mythological creature in your backyard you were kinda sorta falling for.
After getting dressed and making myself some toast, I rolled into our living room, where a row of old paned windows faced the water. As I nibbled on the buttered bread, I watched the waves of Moon’s Bay rise and fall, and the food stuck in my throat. I couldn’t have counted how many times in my life I’d swam in that lake if I tried. Hundreds?
Have Mer been watching me from below? Have they reached out their hands to grab my ankles while I paddled? Have they glowered at me with the same expression Isolde gave me the day before? Was yesterday not my first experience with Saxon’s kind?
Shivering, I let my toast drop to the coffee table and rested my elbows on my knees. During the course of the night, I’d woken up no fewer than a dozen times, replaying my afternoon with Saxon. Pulling my blankets around my body as tightly as I could manage, I tried desperately to ward off the chill all of my newfound knowledge brought on. Knowing that a clan of Mer lived underneath the surface of the lake erased everything I’d known to be true for the past eighteen years. And that knowledge made sleeping peacefully in my bed freaking impossible.
My heart knocked against the inside wall of my chest, and I rubbed at it absently. I missed Saxon. Admitting it made me want to whack my head on the wall. I had hurt him when I left him standing on the trail alone, and knowing that sucked royally. I’d never liked a guy enough to regret my actions before. Figures that I’d finally fall hard for a guy, and he’d turn out to be part fish.
“Screw it.” I flipped the brakes on my chair and rolled toward the back door. I had too many questions that needed answers and too many feelings for Saxon that tugged me back toward the water. Maybe I didn’t have much of a future with him—after all, the guy could only stay human for so long at a time, not to mention the tricky drowning humans thing—but that didn’t mean I had to deny what my heart told me to do today.
And my heart wanted to find Saxon.
The rain stopped, and a hint of sunshine filtered through the thin veil of clouds overhead. I paused to lift my face to the sky and relish the vitamin D. Though we had beautiful summertime’s around here, the long, gray winters tended to overlap into our springs. Sometimes I
craved
sunshine. My mother called it seasonal depression; I called it “our winter’s too friggin’ long” syndrome.
After crossing the driveway, I headed down the trail, watching the waterline as I rolled. I had no idea where to find him except at the bottom of the lake. And I didn’t have any scuba gear readily available. The only thing I could think to do was check the few spots I’d ever seen him, and the spot where he’d stripped naked and jumped into the water was at the top of my list. Can’t imagine why.
“Saxon?” Pushing my wheels as fast as I could, I went from one end of the trail to the other, with no luck. “Sax? You out here?”
I glanced at the digital time on my phone. It was ten, and my parents were stuck at the coffee shop until at least one. That meant I had three more hours to find him without worrying about my mother careening around a corning in the red van.
I groaned to myself, pushed up my sleeves and started up the incline toward the main road. My grandma used to say something to me about Mohamed bringing a mountain when the mountain wouldn’t come to him or some such nonsense. I always used to get annoyed when she said things like that and when she made me sit through
Jeopardy
when I wanted to watch MTV. But today Saxon was the mountain, and I was Mohamed.
My biceps burned as I crested the sloped driveway and turned onto the road. When I stopped to catch my breath, my heart pounded in my ears like the bass on one of the low-rider trucks my father drooled over that they always had at the Sandpoint Auto Show. Peeling my black hoodie off, I shivered when the still-cool air hit my damp skin. Too bad I’d gone for the dark purple PJ tank top underneath my jacket instead of a practical shirt.
Huffing loudly, my lungs squeezed as I passed each of my neighbors’ driveways. The house at the end of the road was up ahead, and the chain around the gate shone in the sunlight as I approached. It was a long shot, but I was running out of options. The next place I would look for Saxon was the end of our dock with a pair of goggles, and I was saving that idea for last.
I released my wheels and let gravity take me clear up to the iron bars while I caught my breath. The trees and overgrown brush lining the driveway on the other side of the gate remained unmoving while I fingered the cold metal and pressed my face to it. The only thing I could see was the roof of the house and a few boarded-up windows. No sign of Saxon or anyone else, for that matter.
I rattled the gate. “Dammit.”
This whole super-sleuth thing would be a whole lot easier if I had working legs and a car to take me places beyond my own cul-de-sac. The dull throb returned, and I pressed my hand to my chest. I wanted to see him so badly, I was ready to scream. What did I have to do? Offer myself up as bait for Isolde on the beach?
I heard the heavy footsteps of Saxon’s boots coming from the brush before he spoke. “Luna?”
There he was, hiking up the cracked driveway in his T-shirt and jeans. His hair was dripping wet, and like me, he’d ditched the coat to soak up some sun. When our eyes met, his face lit up. His mouth stretched the width of his face into a grin that made the throb in my chest dissolve, and I couldn’t avoid smiling back at him.
I raised my hand to wave, but felt stupid, and settled for half a shrug instead. “Hi.”
He climbed to the top of the gate, threw a leg over, and jumped to the ground next to me. He reached out a hand, letting it hover above my arm before shoving it into his pocket instead. “Why aren’t you in school?”
I caught a lock of my black hair that danced on the wind and tucked it behind my ear. “I’m playing hooky.”
A line appeared between his eyebrows. “Hooky?”
“I’m skipping school.”
Saxon fidgeted in place for a moment, and his mouth opened and closed a time or two. “I was desperate to see you, but wanted to respect your wishes.”
I chewed my lip. “I guess I needed some time to process things.”
“There was a lot to process.” He scuffed a boot across the dirt. “Are you OK?”
“I am.” I looked out toward the water, seeing its waves sparkle through the trees. “But I woke up this morning feeling sort of…off.”
His head snapped in my direction. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“You’re under my skin.” I tugged at a string hanging from a tear in my jeans.
He was quiet for a beat. “I don’t know what that means.”
Snorting, I covered my face with my hands and rubbed my eyes. It was so easy to forget that I was talking to a guy who considered English a second language. Or, who considered
speaking
a second language. “Sorry.” I laughed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re on my mind, and I wanted to see you. That’s why I came looking for you.”
“You came looking for me?” His voice rose, and I knew without looking he was smiling.
“Is there an echo out here?” Biting my lip, and feeling uncharacteristically shy, I grinned down at the tear in my jeans. “Yeah, I did. Why did you think I was at the gate of your fake house?”
“I hoped I’d see you today. I didn’t know if I would. But I hoped.”
At last, I looked up at him. Spots were on his shirt where lake water had soaked through the thin cotton. “I guess staying away from you is proving to be harder than I thought.” I jerked my head in the direction of my house. “Listen, I think we need to get you some dry clothes. Come on.”
He walked beside me as I rolled back to my driveway. “Are you taking me to your house?”
Nodding, I grunted as I pushed myself through a dip in the worn road. “Uh-huh.”
He used his fingers to comb his wet hair. “Is your family home?”
“Relax.” I turned down my driveway and rolled toward the back porch. “I’m home alone.”
He halted at the end of the ramp. “Are you comfortable with this?”
I gripped my wheels, stopping my descent, and looked over my shoulder. His crystal clear eyes were filled to the brim with concern.
“You won’t hurt me.” I believed that.
Relief rolled over his face with another burst of wind, and I looked up at the sky. Gray clouds began to block the sun’s rays, so I gave my chair another push. “Come on. Let’s get inside before the weather turns on us again.”
He ducked his head and followed me through the door. Once we were inside, he looked around and swung the door shut. He widened his eyes to the size of quarters. “I’ve always wanted to know what the inside of a home looked like.”
“You’ve never been inside a house?” I looked around and tried to see it with the same level of wonder he saw it. Declan’s art projects fluttered on the fridge door in the breeze from the door, used cereal bowls filled the sink, and the lingering aroma of my Dad’s hazelnut coffee hung in the air.
Nope. Still didn’t render any wonder in me.
He walked up to the island and placed his palms down on the countertop. I cringed when I heard the soft crunch of toast crumbs underneath his skin. “I’ve been inside stores and businesses, but never a house. It’s nice here.”
I rolled into the living room. “That is so weird. Follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
“
We
aren’t going anywhere.
You
are.” I pointed up the stairs. “The first door on the left is my parents’ bedroom. Right next to the doorway there will be a basket filled with folded laundry. On the top there is an old sweatshirt, a couple of T-shirts, some old boxer shorts, and some jeans. Grab them, and bring them back downstairs.”
He arched one of his dark eyebrows. “You want me to go into your parents’ bedroom?”
“Don’t worry.” I reached out to pat his hand and felt my fingertips spark when we made contact. “I would do it myself, but, well, obviously the elevator is broken right now.”
The truth was that the room where my parents slept was my old room. But after coming home from the hospital with a wheelchair, my parents had switched things around, and I’d been relocated to the bedroom with the green carpeting and old-fashioned floral wallpaper. For the past two Christmases my list had included a redecorating budget, but so far…no go.
He tugged one side of his grin upward. “Ha, ha, ha. I just feel weird going into your parents’ room without their permission.”
“Listen, you’re only stepping right inside the door and grabbing a few things off of the top of the pile.” I nodded at him encouragingly. “I folded them myself. Once you get the clothes, come back down.”
He went up the creaky stairs, and I listened as he opened my parents’ door, shuffled around for a beat, and then shut the door again. When he reemerged, he glanced over his shoulders. “Is anyone else here?”
Giggling, I took the clothes from Saxon’s arms and looked at them. “Nope. It’s still just you and me.” I refolded the clothes carefully, then rested them on my lap. Rolling back to the kitchen, I opened the cabinet below the sink, and plucked out a thick black garbage bag. “Here you go. They’ll fit you. My dad is thicker than you are around the shoulders, but I think the jeans will be long enough.”
He looked down at the bag. “I—”
“Take the bag down to the old boathouse by our dock. There’s a space between the rafters where you can stick this, and my parents will never find it.” I glanced out the kitchen window at the leaning boathouse roof. “They never go down there. My mom’s been nagging Dad to fix that thing up for years. He never does. I don’t imagine this will be the lucky year.”
He shook his head and handed me the bag. “Your dad is going to notice these clothes are gone.”
I pushed the bag back. “No, he won’t. My mom cleaned out the attic the other day and found these in a box. They’re from his college days. He doesn’t even realize we washed them. To be honest, my dad isn’t the most engaged member of my family.”