The Lost Coast

by Jane Kindred

  Heartbeat.

  Emilie, come out.

  Pitter patter.

  Emilie!

  Pitter patter. Pitter patterheartbeat.

  A scream of pain tore me from the peace and calm and the rain’s caress, and I was on my hands and knees facing the Grove at the base of the tree, coughing up char, far from the soothing mist of the light rain above. Konstantin lay limp and lifeless at my side.

  “You’re a stubborn girl.” Clara’s smoke-roughened voice upbraided me, and I looked up to see her emerge from the tree in front of me. She gripped her left arm at the wrist, the fibers of the sleeve above it burned into her skin. “But I’d expect nothing less of Sebastian’s child, of my granddaughter. We have always survived, taking root where we had to. It’s not our fault if the Grove treats us like weeds. If we must choke out other life to survive, that’s what we do.”

  “What are you talking about?” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

  “Trees that aren’t properly in the Grove,” she replied through clenched teeth, “can be transplanted. That is how the Strands came to be in the Grove, after all. I suppose Beverly wasn’t so different. If I’d met her under other circumstances—if she hadn’t wanted my Bash—I might have liked her. But Strand blood needs Strand blood. I’d offered to give Per a daughter for Sebastian, and he refused, thinking his Helena would eventually give him one, and then Lukas was born, and Helena was too sick to try again. You can’t imagine Per’s disappointment, but still, he wouldn’t have me. I think he was too heartbroken. So I waited. It would have to be me. I was the only one who could take Sebastian’s seed.”

  I’d thought I couldn’t be more disturbed by this woman, but I hadn’t bargained on this. I stared up at her. “You were going to give your own son—a daughter—for him to have children with.”

  “That’s the way it has always been done. Rådande women make the sacrifices they must. But Beverly ruined everything. Sebastian was willing to let the family blood be diluted. And so she had to be choked out. Just as Aravella did. Just as Konstantin does.”

  “You killed her.” I coughed violently, clutching at the carpet of pine needles beneath me, still sharp and dry. The rain hadn’t yet reached the forest floor through the canopy of the trees. “You killed my mother. You set her tree on fire. None of it was Signe at all.”

  “Signe didn’t exactly mourn her. How could either of us have stood it, seeing her every day when Sebastian was gone? It was her fault Sebastian was in the car with Per. Because of her, Per was going to tell Bash everything. He wasn’t supposed to be in that car. It was a mercy little Lukas was thrown clear. For that mercy, I spared you, so the two of you could be together when the time was right.”

  Jesus. Had she killed my father and my grandfather too? “You’re out of your fucking mind,” I gritted out.

  “Tell me you don’t want to be with Lukas, that he isn’t the one you want. You were made for each other, to bring the Strand blood back together.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s wrong. You’re disgusting.” Tears streamed down my face as I stared up at her.

  Clara clucked her tongue and crouched in front of me, wiping at my tears with her undamaged sleeve. “Hush, dear girl. I’m going to make all of this right. I’ll prove Lukas’s innocence, and he’ll come back to you. All I have to do is testify that Signe pushed Aravella out that window. Now let me take little Koste back to his resting place so his ashes will be where they belong.”

  “No.” I pushed her away and shielded Konstantin. “You’re not taking him anywhere.”

  Clara rose and looked down at me, a dried pine sprig clutched in her hand. “Then it will have to be his tree.” With her other hand, she took a lighter from her pocket. “You leave me no choice, Emilie, but you’ll have to let him go to protect yourself when he begins to burn.” She walked away from me toward the center of the Grove, and it took me a moment to realize what she was about to do. I had to leave him to save him.

  She was moving with the same swift stride as she had at the vineyard, adept at climbing over and veering around the overgrown vegetation at the outskirts of the Grove, familiar with the path, while I fumbled after her, raking my skin and snagging my clothes.

  I stumbled into the clearing a few yards behind her. She’d stopped before a young sapling that stood in the shadow of the taller trees. I cried out as she dropped the burning sprig at its base. There was still enough dry tinder that the underbrush was catching. I lunged forward, falling once more on my hands and knees as I reached it, and tried to beat at the flames as they sprang up.

  But Clara had the advantage, and she was returning to the copse where Konstantin lay. I screamed at her, futilely stomping at burning pine needles as I got to my feet. She was going to take him, and it wouldn’t matter if I stopped his tree from burning. Weeping with frustration at my lack of options, I gave up and pursued her, unable to stand by and watch her take him, even if he was already gone.

  I was too late. She was already there, and I’d never get to him in time. But before she had him in her grasp, a rustling wind rushed through the trees, and like the avenging specters of the apocalypse, Ares, Aristos, Alexis, and Basil stepped out of the surrounding hollows.

  Alexis backhanded Clara, and Basil caught her as she tried to flee, while Aristos snatched Konstantin up, and Ares ran to me.

  “Millie, your hands!” he gasped, gripping my wrists and holding up my blistered palms.

  “It’s Koste’s sapling,” I sobbed. I tugged him with me back to the clearing where the fire was taking hold, and he swung off his jacket and beat them down far more effectively than I could have, angry arcs raining down until the pine needles were smoldering, and at last the rain itself was coming down to do the rest.

  Lightning flashed somewhere offshore as we made our way back to the others, and in the thunderclap that followed, I heard a bellow of pain. Lukas had stumbled from the trees and fallen on his knees before Aristos where he cradled Konstantin.

  As Aristos placed Lukas’s son in his arms, Alexis stepped away from Clara, leaving her to Basil, and placed a hand on Lukas’s shoulder while he rocked with Konstantin. “I’ll be right back with the car,” she said. “Hang on.” With a graceful move, she stepped into the hollow beside her and was gone. I swayed, dizzy, and Ares caught me in his arms.

  “He still has a pulse,” I heard Aristos assure Lukas before I collapsed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Four horsemen,” I murmured. My tongue felt furry.

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  “The four horsemen of the Apostolous.” I giggled at the mental image of Aravella’s siblings charging into the Grove on horseback wearing long capes.

  “I think she’s coming around.”

  Bright light glared down at me, and I tried to block it with my hand, but something that felt like a fluffy catcher’s mitt struck my face.

  “Careful, sweet Millie.” Ares took my wrist and moved my hand down to my side. “You don’t want to use those for a bit.”

  I focused on him sitting beside me, impeccably dressed as always, his dark curls dangling over one eye above a chiseled cheek. “You are very Apostolou.” I’d meant “pretty” but it had come out “Apostolou”. Same thing.

  “And you’re very high. Enjoy the morphine, sweetheart. You’ve earned it.”

  I tried to remember how I might have earned morphine, and the image of Konstantin lying lifeless on the outskirts of the Grove struck me like a semi. “Koste!” I struggled to sit up, but Ares pushed me gently back, and I seemed not to have the strength to fight him. “No, I have to go!”

  “He’s going to be just fine.” That was Lukas’s voice. I turned my head and found him seated on my other side. “You kept him safe. He’s just sleeping off the Ambien.” Lukas gave me a smile that was heartbreaking in its combination of sadness and gratitude. The
moss of his eyes dominated his face, fathoms deep and full of darkness. Like a hollow, I wanted to leap into them. Maybe I was a little stoned.

  I lay back on the pillow and closed my eyes. “You’re very…postolou too,” I said, and then couldn’t remember what that meant.

  * * * * *

  When I woke again, my head wasn’t nearly as much fun, and I was alone. A steady rain beat down against the window next to the empty bed on the other side of the drab hospital room, the gloomy blue-gray glow through the horizontal blinds suggesting late afternoon, depending on how heavy the rain was. My palms were throbbing. I held up my hands and found them wrapped in layers of gauze. That was going to make it difficult to pee, which was what I desperately needed to do right now, I realized with sudden, perturbing urgency. When I slid out of bed, the breeze on my ass from the open hospital gown made me reassess the difficulty level. Didn’t need hands for this operation. Peachy.

  Using my foot to wheel the pole with the morphine drip—apparently woefully empty at the moment—I made my way to the little bathroom and pushed down the latch with my elbow. I left the door standing open while I relieved myself, only to find myself staring straight at Lukas as he came around the curtained partition in search of me.

  “Sorry.” He stepped back, out of view. “Need any help?”

  “No, I do not need any…oh, goddammit.” Lukas’s head popped back around the doorframe and I held up my gauze-mittened palm. “Don’t. No. Forget it. I’ll figure something out.”

  “You sure?”

  “Go. Away.”

  He stepped out of view. “I’ll wait out here, then.”

  “How are you not in jail?” I asked as I batted at the toilet paper roll like a fat-pawed puppy. “Did Clara confess?”

  “Not exactly. I posted bail.”

  I managed to pull off an abundance of paper from the roll and made a valiant effort at balling it up and wiping with the side of one hand, though I suspected my bandage wasn’t exactly in pristine condition by the time I was done.

  When I emerged, Lukas swooped in and enveloped me in his arms, holding me so tightly I would have protested if not for the rhythmic shudder in his muscles that said he was crying. But he’d said Koste was all right. I let him hold me until he was done, my gauze mittens crossed at the wrists behind him, pretending not to notice when he dabbed at his eyes before he let me go.

  “Lukas?”

  He held me at arm’s length, and I searched his eyes. “Is he—he’s okay? Koste’s okay?”

  He smiled. “Yes, he’s fine. He’s awake now. A little groggy, but he’s fine. Because of you.”

  My voice trembled with relief. “I thought I lost him.”

  “But you didn’t. I don’t know how to thank you, Millie.”

  I held his gaze, wanting to say something, not knowing what to say, until things got uncomfortable and Lukas let go of me.

  As I headed back to the bed, he stopped me. “I thought you might like to see who else is awake.” He pulled the curtain beside my bed aside, and I followed his glance toward the door to see a man in a wheelchair looking at me expectantly, one leg stretched out in a cast and a cast on his arm, his shaved head bandaged.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus. Cole!”

  He grinned as I ran to him and tried to find a safe place to throw my arms around him where my bandages didn’t clash with his.

  It was my turn to cry, and I did it with much less panache than Lukas had, blubbering against Cole’s shoulder while he patted my back with his good hand.

  “Come on, Mills, don’t come apart on me,” he murmured finally. “There’s a really hot guy behind you, and he’s checking out your ass.”

  “Shut up,” I laughed against him and let go of him reluctantly, bopping myself in the nose with my mitt before I remembered it. “Dammit. I can’t wipe my nose.”

  With an amused smirk, Lukas grabbed a tissue from the bedside and cleaned my face. “Blow,” he said, holding it to my nose, and I blew, trying not to die of embarrassment. At least he hadn’t had to wipe my ass.

  I sat back on the bed, putting my ass out of view. “I thought I’d lost you too,” I said to Cole.

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily. But you’re going to have to fill me in on my lost weekend. I don’t even remember driving up here. I just woke up yesterday morning to find myself really, really popular.” He cocked his head with a grin. “Tell me I had fun with that Greek god with the earring who stopped in to see me earlier.”

  “Aristos came to see you?” I raised an eyebrow. “Jesus, Milner. Only you could flirt from a coma.”

  A rap on the door behind him announced the arrival of his sister, Lois, smiling and friendly now that Cole was okay. “Hey, Millie. I came to collect our runaway patient.”

  “All yours.” I held up my hands. “I can’t do him any more damage at the moment.”

  Lois blushed. “Sorry if I was a little sharp with you—”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said with chagrin. The joke hadn’t come out as funny as I’d thought it would. “You were scared. So was I. I think I just need another bag of morphine.”

  She nodded as she took hold of the wheelchair handles to turn Cole about. “Well, I hope you have a speedy recovery. You have to be careful with burns. You don’t want to scar.” Lois stopped, aghast, apparently realizing whom she was saying it to. “I mean…sorry…I guess you already know that. Shit.”

  “Maybe now’s when you do that ‘stop talking’ thing I mentioned before,” said Cole. “You don’t always have to say everything you think.” He winked at me over his shoulder. “Haven’t I always told you she’s a lot like you?”

  I pushed the wheel with my foot. “All right, Telly Savalas. Get out of here and go find yourself a lollipop.”

  “Greek men and lollipops,” said Cole as Lois wheeled him out. “Sounds good.”

  Lukas raised an eyebrow as I scooted back into bed. “You two have an interesting relationship.”

  “Yeah, I’m probably the only woman he’s ever had sex with.” I narrowly avoided slapping my mitt against my forehead as soon as the words were out. “Fuck. Morphine, please,” I moaned as the throbbing in my hands began to eclipse what little good judgment I possessed.

  Lukas pressed the nurse’s call button. “A glass of your finest morphine,” he said when the nurse popped his head in.

  I felt the grimace ease out of my cheeks once the drip had been replaced and a pleasant warmth was slipping through my veins. “Feels kind of like being in my tree,” I murmured.

  Lukas hovered at the bedside. “Listen, Millie. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

  I closed my eyes. “I know. Your aunt’s a crazy bitch.”

  He laughed softly. “You don’t know the half of it.” His hand stroked my cheek, and I leaned into it with a sigh, forgetting under the opiate haze that I wasn’t supposed to love him. “Why did you run from Ares after my arrest?”

  “He’s the one who got you arrested. He was going to do the same to me.”

  “No, he wasn’t. I told him to give that story to the police. To protect you. He was going to keep an eye on you until I was out on bail, to keep you safe from Signe. Although I had that wrong, of course. And I told you not to let him out of your sight.”

  “Your message got cut off. Thought you said ‘don’t let him touch you’.”

  “I see. And are you going to? Let him touch you again?” His fingers trailed over my cheek.

  “He has my underpants,” I murmured.

  “I bet you say that to all the boys.” When I thought about it later after the morphine had worn off, I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he’d said.

  * * * * *

  Convalescing had never been my favorite thing. I’d gotten enough of hospital rooms in childhood to last me a lifetime. At least this time I had a steady stream of visitors t
o keep the boredom at bay, even Konstantin, who brought New Moon to watch with me, cuddled up in my bed, and confided that he knew I was a “forest giant” shifter, but he wouldn’t tell anybody. I figured it was Lukas’s business to tell him what he was, when he came of age, or however that worked.

  The most unexpected visitor I had was Signe, on the morning I was being released. I was doing my best to tug on the clothes Ares had left for me while I was sleeping—complete with the hostage pair of underpants, which I hoped to God he’d had washed—when she appeared at my door.

  “Emilie.” She nodded to me when I looked up. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  “Let me help you with those.”

  I moved my bandaged hands out of the way gratefully while she finished tugging up my jeans and zipped them for me. I had the use of my fingers now, but they were still tender, and gripping anything with them was a bitch.

  “This is long overdue,” she said, sitting on the bed opposite me. “I should have come sooner. But I’ve been trying to process all of this.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Don’t speak, Emilie, please. Just let me get through this.”

  I sat back on my bed and nodded.

  “Clara poisoned herself.”

  “Oh my God. I’m—I’m sorry.” It seemed you were supposed to say that, even if it wasn’t true.

  “I’m sorry that I ever let it go this far.” Signe looked down at her hands, holding them palm-up helplessly in her lap. I’d never seen a humble, hesitant Signe before. “She wasn’t my sister.”

  “I know. She told me. That she met you at school and you’re not really a Strand.” Signe’s head shot up, and I realized humility was not what I was seeing here. Color me corrected. I hoped like hell rådande couldn’t kill with their eyes.

  “I am the last of the pureblooded Strands,” she corrected me archly. “The last in our family born of the archaic—barbaric—tradition. It is always the women in the family who bear the brunt of this, who must submit to taking the seed of our own brothers and fathers…and uncles.” Her pale eyes made certain I hadn’t missed that reference. As if I could. “I submitted once, out of fear, and then I vowed it would never happen again.