In real life I might be mad he said that about Roxy, but right now I’m only thinking he looks so sad, it’s like I can see every bad thing that’s ever happened to him hovering around him, holding on to him, not letting him go. I reach my hand out for his, and he takes it, rubbing his thumb against my knuckles. Sensation travels all the way up my arm, down into my belly. He keeps doing that.
“I like you,” I say. “A lot.”
He lets go of my hand. “Sorry.”
“What just happened?”
“Let’s just say you answered a question I was asking you in my head.”
The same thing happened when Neve took my hand when I first met her. I take his hand again. “Anything else you want to know?”
“No,” he says, grinning, “not at this time, but I reserve the right to change my mind.”
“I have a question. Does it work both ways?”
“You’ll have to take your chances, I guess.”
“So what happened to Pamela, the invisible girlfriend?” I say.
He tilts his head, wistfully, like he’s listening to a favorite song.
“Pamela, my girl. I don’t blame her. The whole thing got to be too much with the cops and everything and me not having a home and trying to deal with Kidd.”
“She broke up with you?”
“That would have been nice,” he says. “She didn’t say anything at all. She was there and then she wasn’t, like she was going invisible a little at a time. I didn’t really have the space to go looking for her. I figured if she didn’t want to be there, she shouldn’t have to be. But it was like getting my heart broken a slice at a time, and I was already broken, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“I missed her though, for a while, like missed her so much I thought the hurt would never stop.”
“Did it?”
“Yeah, but I miss being able to find a girl in the dark, to recognize her by smell, to know her skin and body so well, being able to know everything about what she’s thinking just by looking at her, without any tricks … belonging with someone. The last time I saw Pamela, Kidd and I were on the boardwalk, and she was there with some of her friends. Had on this little halter top and cutoffs, her hair blowing around her. She was so beautiful. But she looked at me and it was like a layer was missing, like she had turned into some kind of paper doll. I knew she wasn’t, and I know that’s not true, but it’s like whatever had been between us was shut down. Gone, just like that. And then I didn’t miss her anymore.”
No one has ever looked at me any special way or tried to know my body. Roxy, I guess. She’s been the person I’ve kept track of in the dark, whose thoughts I’ve known. But not for romantic love. I’d like to love someone, to have someone love me, if it were possible for that to exist without it turning into a nightmare. Without Roxy how she is, would it have happened for me? There might have been someone in Taylor who would have wanted to wrap himself around me. There could have been dark rooms and lips and hands touching. My breath is coming short just from the thought of Jason, running his hands up thighs and over bellies in shadows. It’s so private and he gave it to me and now I can’t make it go away.
Jason takes his hand back, yawns, and throws me a pillow and blanket.
“Listen, it won’t be long now,” he says. “You should get some rest while you can. When you wake up, if I’m not right here, go back to the water and you’ll be okay. Just remember that.”
I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. Part of me thinks nothing will at all, that I’ll wake up in the morning and this will all have been some silliness, Julianna’s letter the fantasies of a bored wife and mother, Neve and her warnings some drugged-out joke. The rock beneath me heats me from the inside out, and as I fall asleep with Kidd snoring beside me, I decide no matter what happens next, I will never regret being here, taking mushrooms, drinking the water, holding Jason’s hand. I’m glad we came to Santa Maria. Things are finally real, they’re finally happening. I can finally sleep.
EIGHTEEN
WAKE UP
“Mama!”
I feel two things as I come to consciousness: heat and pain.
I unglue my eyes and then immediately shut them tight to block out the light. I barely register Kidd, who has nestled herself into me even further since I fell asleep.
I crawl away from her. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t know where to go. I scuttle across the floor, knees bruising where the rocks separate and come together unevenly. At the mouth of the cave, I want to throw myself back into the water, but the light is too much, needles digging under my skin.
I retreat, blinded as reds and blues drum against the backs of my lids.
Then the thirst comes, choking me, like all the air and life is getting squeezed out. My throat is dry, parched, painful.
A swarm of bees fills my head. I scream from somewhere, scream to let the bees out. They don’t get out.
They buzz harder.
Jason is up, he is next to me.
I can’t see, but I can smell him, salty.
He is shushing me.
The rushing water in the cave. It’s all I can hear, and I pull myself from Jason’s grasp and crawl to the sound. I find the stream. The first drops hit the top of my head. I open my mouth. Water trickles onto my tongue. I flatten myself against the rock wall to get more. It pours over my tissue skin, a relief. I open wider, let it slide down my throat.
It’s like balm on a burn, ice on fire. I drink and drink. I drink until I’m full, and then collapse and crumple. I lean forward, push my wet hair back from my forehead.
When I open my eyes, Jason is squatted across from me, face pinched with concern. The colors around him are bright. I see his sadness. I see his goodness.
I am panting.
His longish hair cuts into his face. It’s so black it’s blue. His skin is smooth, the color of a penny. Pillow burns run across one cheek. He blinks hard. He waits.
“What is it?” I whisper.
“The water,” he says.
I nod.
“Once it’s in you, it keeps wanting more of you. Right now, it’s introducing itself to you. It wants to be your friend.”
The world tilts, then tilts again.
I lean my head back, let the water slide over my chin. Every heavy drip makes its individual mark. Sounds come violently.
“You’ll be okay, Mayhem,” Jason says. “Especially you.”
After a minute or two, things calm. I breathe normally.
“I have to go home now.” I pull myself to my feet, lurch toward the front of the cave.
“You’re not ready.” He follows me. “There’s so much. You need us to watch you.”
“My mother,” I say.
The sun burrows into the back of my skull.
Jason grabs my elbow and tries to pull me back. It hurts.
“You’re going to do something you’ll regret,” he says. “It’s like being a baby. You have to learn everything all over again. You can’t be around civilians right now.”
I wrench myself free.
“Hey,” he says, “do you have any idea what Elle will do to us if anything happens to you? Do you even know what this could cost us? Do you care? Sit down and chill out. You’ll be better in a few hours, and then you can go home without hurting anyone, mostly yourself.”
I lunge forward. “Don’t tell me what to do. And don’t touch me ever ever.”
He takes two steps back as though I’ve hit him. Behind him, Kidd sits up.
“No,” she says, “you can’t go.” She throws off the covers.
A wheel of emotions whirls over Jason: sadness, regret, anger, fear.
I turn, lift my arms over my head, and launch myself into the sea.
NINETEEN
AUNTIE ELLE
Swimming has always been work. Now it’s nothing. It’s less than nothing. I have to think hard and focus to stop myself from smashing onto the rocks. I reach the shore and I’m creeping, keeping to the
side of the pier. My dripping torso leaves a trail of seawater. The boy who works the Ferris wheel yawns, raises his hands above his head. He is pungent. He catches sight of me, takes me in head to toe, eyes lingering at my midriff.
I am having trouble breathing.
I am pulled to him. I want to give him a hug, but not in a nice way, to hug him until he stops smelling so much like want.
“Um, hey,” he says, as I approach. His skin is thin, with a voice to match. “You okay? You need some help?”
My movements are jerky, like my body wants to go faster than it can. Ice starts to form around the boy. Honey fills my throat. I am choking. The ice can make the choking stop. I get close to him, look at the ice that’s getting thicker. Inside it, pictures of the boy. If I put my mouth over the boy’s and I inhale, if I put my arms around him and take the ice, it will be better.
His lips are red. I put one arm around his neck to get closer, inside.
He’s paralyzed. I am the one paralyzing him. Sweat leaps to his skin. I smell his breath, sour with fear.
I inhale. He moans. “I’m hot,” he says, letting his forehead fall against mine. “I’m burning up.”
His knees give.
“There you are!” It’s Jason, with Kidd right next to him. She is looking up at me, eyebrows knit together. Jason yanks me back away from the boy just as the desire to rip him apart has started to overwhelm me.
I might have gnashed my teeth.
The boy collapses to the ground.
“Sorry. I had to,” Jason says. “You can’t … It’s daylight. There are people. And he didn’t do anything. Let me take you home.”
He pastes on a smile as Kidd grabs hold of my hand and urges me back.
Jason helps the boy to his feet. He looks around, bewildered, like he’s shaking off a nightmare.
“Jake,” Jason says, “this is Mayhem.”
“Mayhem?” Jake says, looking stupidly from side to side. “As in, Mayhem Brayburn? As in Brayburn lady coming for you—”
“This is not the time, dude,” Jason says.
“I don’t mean anything by it. We’re psyched you’re here. Town’s been crazy lately.” He hesitates. “We need you.” He rubs at his lips. “If legend is true, I mean.”
I take a long look at Jason, at Kidd, at the boy.
“She all right?” The boy takes a step closer. “If what they say is true about the tunnel, you can.” He leans forward like he’s waiting for me to hug him again, and I recoil.
“You don’t want to do that, Jake,” Jason says.
“If it’s more of what she did before, maybe I do.” Jake searches around. “Where’s Neve at?”
“Dammit,” Jason says, as I run. “Mayhem, get back here!”
* * *
Climbing the hill is nothing. Fruit trees are orange and yellow blots of paint, spattered green and brown. The front door is wide open when I get back to the farm. I force my legs to slow down. They want to go fast, but I tell them to take normal steps, to have patience.
Elle is walking toward the door when I stumble in. She’s all in white like she was the first day we got here, skirt falling over her legs, hair slipping over her bare shoulders, eyes flashing. I haven’t seen it until right now, but she doesn’t look human at all.
She comes over to me, puts her hands on my arms. She looks me up and down. “Welp, your mother is going to kill me. Teenagers can’t fucking follow directions for shit.”
Millie meows from the chair, indignant that her all-day nap has been interrupted.
“Mama.” I try to pull myself away so I can go to my mother.
“No you don’t.” Elle doesn’t let me go. “You’re going to scare the shit out of your mom if you go up there like this. And then, frankly, if you can even wake her up, all hell will break loose in a way I just can’t have right now. There’s too much at stake. So you come with me.”
“I want my mom.”
“I’m sure you do. And she wants her mom. That’s the way it goes.”
“But—”
She raises one finger to silence me. It works. “Aside from your current mental state,” she says, “you look like an absolute disaster. Don’t make me put you in front of a mirror. I promise you won’t like it.”
I look down. I’m dry now, but still in my underwear and bra. My hair snakes down my back in damp clumps. “We slept in the van. We were safe.” I focus on keeping my appearance normal, my voice steady. “There was a meteor shower. We just … watched it.”
“Stop it.” Elle fingers the necklace Neve gave me, runs her hand over the heavy metal. “There are some things you can’t hide, especially from me.”
“We fell asleep,” I protest weakly.
“Neve’s been back here for hours,” she says. “She tried to sneak past me, but honestly … for God’s sake, it’s me.” She shakes her head. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal. Let’s have that be the last time you ever lie to me, and I will try to help you sort through this mess without traumatizing you or your mother any further.”
My eyes well. I steel my jaw against the tears. Elle goes to the closet and returns with a towel, which she drapes over my shoulders.
Elle sighs. “Come with me.”
I look up the stairs.
“Now,” she says.
I follow Elle out the door. I search for signs of the ice coming back, but I find no traces of it and begin to relax a bit. I do see more light, extra light, especially around Elle.
“Frankly, when Neve got home and told us you were sleeping in the van somewhere, your mom took enough Valium to knock out a gorilla, so you’re not going to be able to talk to her right now anyway.” She sniffs. “Neve wouldn’t admit to the rest until Roxy was out, but I knew as soon as she showed up here without you. She wasn’t going to bring you back here for your first morning with the water in you, especially if she was trying to keep me from knowing, as if that could ever happen.” Elle peers at me as we step on wet grass and weave through the orchard fruit trees. “Did it hurt much?”
I shake my head.
“Good. You seeing things?”
“Light,” I mumble.
She nods. “That’s normal. It’s a little different for all of us depending how our systems adapt, but the basics are the same. Light, feelings, the honeycombs.”
“Honeycombs?” I say.
“We can talk about that later,” she says. Then, “You should know it’s not a good idea to pollute your system, though. A person with our lineage should not put foreign substances in our bloodstreams. No pot or beer for you. And definitely none of that business you did last night. You think it damages a regular person, you have no idea what it will do to you.”
Roxy’s always drinking or pilling. We have the same lineage. There’s an unpleasant pressure in my skull.
Elle gives me a side-eye and tries to take my hand. I pull away.
“No,” I say. I’ll tell her what I want to tell her when I’m ready, not because of some weird spell.
“Fine. Do you really think Roxy’s behavior is an accident?” She sighs. “Because it’s not. She’s been trying to un-Brayburn herself since the day your father died, and just look at this unholy goddamn mess. My twin sister, keeper of the Brayburn lineage, is a junkie.”
The words sting, but she moves past them, not noticing. Light trickles off behind her and melts into the ground as I put some of the puzzle pieces into place. They are beginning to form an image, of my mother and Elle and what was given to them in the cave that started with Julianna. Elle wanted it. My mother ran away from it. I don’t know about my father, but I think his death had something to do with it, too. And now I have it, or I’m getting it.
Here, trees and plants are separated into neat rows. There’s nothing wild, only sweet smells and warmth and soft dirt under my feet. I breathe easier. The sun waterfalls over me, and sand dries off my skin and shakes to the ground as I walk. Elle leads me to a stone bench that overlooks the whole valley. Birds sit on ei
ther side and pepper the trees, chittering softly. We can still see the driveway, but with our backs to the house, there’s nothing but us, watching.
“I’m sure Roxy can fix herself,” she mutters, lost in her own thoughts. “The question is whether she even wants to.”
“You’re leaking light,” I say.
She smiles. “Damn right I am. There are some positive side effects. It sure can be pretty.”
“Beautiful.”
“This is where I always come when I need to think. I used to bring you here all the time when you were little. Do you remember?” she asks hopefully.
I shake my head.
“Well, Brayburns have been sitting in this exact spot trying to suss the world for more than a century now. You can see everything from here, and there’s something about it that lets you think in peace. Just listen for a minute. Let the quiet fill you up.”
We sit there, overlooking the valley, and I hear the whispers of the world, the swaying trees, the welcoming earth, and my own breath coming long and even.
“Being young can be confusing. It can be exciting and wild and frightening, but it will never be as much for most as for you. And now, for better or worse, you’ve taken a step toward your own life story that you can’t take back.”
“I don’t—”
She puts up her hand. “There’s so much to sift through, and you’re not ready to hear it now. I just wanted to give you a place to think, somewhere all the Brayburn women have done it before you. You can come here, sit in the sun, and let it heal you.” She looks out into the distance, body tense and lean. She stares out over the expanse, tucks one arm over the back of the bench. “Did you know that royalty used to keep their castles at the top of hills like this so they could protect their citizenry, defend themselves better, have a bird’s-eye view if someone was preparing for an attack?”
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