Waterfell

by Amalie Howard

  But as I ask the question, I already know. I feel it in the violent ripple of her skin against me. I feel it in the water from her body now desperately plastering itself against mine. I can feel it in the lifeblood of every single Aquarathi on land and in the deep waters below responding to the call of my Dvija. Embracing the raw power rushing through my veins, I open my jaws and scream.

  A new queen has come of age.

  17

  DANGEROUS DECEPTIONS

  The beach is more packed than I expected, with guitar music strumming in the background and the faint murmur of people over the mellow sound of the surf. Jenna waves me over to where a bunch of our friends are sitting on the beach around a blazing bonfire. I say hi to a few of them and then move to the empty spot right next to her. Sawyer says hello, and tugs on a lock of my hair with the arm resting along the back of Jenna’s shoulders.

  “Hey, Wipeout,” he teases, referring to the last time we hung out together.

  “Wipeout, my ass,” I shoot back. “Those were some freakishly large waves. Isn’t that why you came in right after I cracked my board? I’ll take you on any time, any place, surfer boy. How’d you do today at the meet?”

  Sawyer picks up the bronze trophy at his side and hefts it over to me.

  “Third, not bad,” I say, tossing it back. I want to ask the question that’s burning on my tongue and find out whether Lo placed, since I didn’t make it to the meet. Some sort-of girlfriend I’m turning out to be. Lo’s not in the group on the beach. I would have spotted him as soon as I walked down and a part of me is grateful. He must hate me. Again.

  “Some kid from Bishop’s took second,” Sawyer is saying. “And Lo took first, but that was to be expected. That guy is a genius on the wave.”

  “Is he here?” I choke out, trying to sound casual and failing dismally. Even Jenna shakes her head at my obvious embarrassment.

  “He went home after the meet. Said he had something to do but he’d be by later. Why don’t you just text him?”

  Sawyer’s suggestion is as simple as it sounds. Only I can’t text Lo to find out whether he’s going to be at some bonfire on the beach, because I’ve ignored his texts and calls for days, or responded with one-word answers. Right now, I’m not even sure that he’s talking to me.

  “Yeah, maybe I will later. Congrats, man, that’s awesome.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sawyer passes me a beer from the cooler behind him but I wave it away. I don’t mix well with drinking because it’s such a bad diuretic. Put it this way, one sip of alcohol and the effects on my system would be worse than a bottle of vodka on a full-grown man. So I stay away from the stuff. “No, thanks, I’m good,” I say with a smile. “But I’ll take a soda if you have one.”

  “I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Jenna says, and passes me a can of orange soda.

  Throwing my sandals off and leaning back, I dig my toes into the soft crumbly sand. “Soren’s in complete smothering mode. Speio’s acting like he’s king of the hill, and Echlios is Echlios. I’d rather be here than there.”

  “So you brought Speio, anyway?”

  I glance to where he’s standing awkwardly at the edge of the circle but there’s no way I’m going to be nice to him. He can work it out on his own. With a frown, I notice that Cara, who’s sitting on the opposite side, waves him over to a spot next to her. It makes no difference to me. They can have each other for all I care.

  I shrug and answer Jenna. “Not much choice. Haven’t you heard? He’s my warden and my ride.” I lean in, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Seriously, you come of age in my world and you go on lockdown. Shouldn’t I get a sports car or something?”

  “You did what?” Jenna’s eyes are wide. I nod and her eyes widen even more as she eyeballs me up and down, looking for something. “You look the same,” she whispers.

  “It’s more of an inside thing,” I say, amused.

  “Wow. That’s cool.”

  “What’s cool?” Sawyer asks, tucking his arm around Jenna’s shoulders.

  “Girl talk,” Jenna says quickly, and shoves him away. “Menstrual cramps.” At his horrified look, she kisses him to make up for it and then turns back toward me, whispering under her breath. “So any more news on that guy?”

  “No,” I say, uncomfortable at the lie. “Dead end. No pun intended.”

  Jenna’s face drains of all color and I kick myself for royally inserting my foot in my mouth. “He died? I thought Echlios said he was alive?” Her voice is nearly a screech, and several other kids look in our direction. With a despairing breath, I remind myself that Jenna is dealing with things that a normal high-school kid should never have to worry about—dead people and alien creatures—all because of me. My regret is all consuming.

  “He was alive,” I amend unhappily. “In fact, Echlios took care of it...in case anyone came back looking for me.”

  Mindful of her emotional fragility, there’s no way I can tell her that he had been killed on the spot by her home-modified electroshock weapon, so I lie again. I could have gone the route of the man not being an actual man but I figure that Jenna will be upset either way if she thinks she killed anyone, even if it wasn’t human. I’m getting pretty good at making my lies convincing enough, because her face regains some of its normal hue and visibly relaxes.

  “Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry that it didn’t lead to anything.”

  A part of me wishes I could tell her more. Having anyone to talk to would be better than a family who leaves you out of everything because they think you’re some sort of fragile china doll. Plus, Jenna has a car and she’s savvy in a pinch, if her handiwork with the Taser is any indication. And she’s my best friend. But of course, despite all of the advantages to confiding my secrets, I can’t risk it, so I say nothing. I’d rather have a live best friend than a dead one.

  Instead, I shrug noncommittally and go back to staring at the flames and then at the people sitting around it. With a surprised start, I see that Cara and Speio have wasted no time and are practically making out in front of everyone. It’s so out of the blue that I don’t realize I’m staring until Jenna clears her throat.

  “First Lo, now Speio, right? That’s only a little creepy,” she whispers. “It’s like she wants to be you or something.”

  I don’t answer, but the thought that Cara would do anything to get under my skin does rattle me a little. I shove it away, affirming that I don’t care who or what Cara does, even if it is Speio. Averting my eyes to keep from being grossed out, I look past them to scan the shoreline. It’s not as dark a night as the night before, and with the light from the bonfire, hazy shapes flit in and out of my peripheral vision.

  The water is glassy with slow-rolling waves and barely any surf. Only tiny waves curl white in the shallows before breaking up into nothing. For a minute, I wonder with a pang why it’s so calm and then chide myself for being so paranoid in the same breath. The most logical reason is because it’s low tide. Plus, it’s not like Ehmora is going to cause a freak storm that will kill everyone on the beach just to avenge her missing hybrid. A chill runs through me. Will she?

  I shake my head of its heavy thoughts and peer over toward the rocky pier that juts out into the middle of the ocean. Just as the moon dips behind a cloud, I notice a lone figure sitting on the dock at the far end of the pier.

  Lo.

  Don’t ask how I can recognize what is basically just a vague, indistinct shadow in the moonlight, but I can. I would know that boy anywhere—the shape of his profile, the curve of his back, the length of his legs. A chill of an entirely different sort runs through me and I get to my feet. Both Jenna’s and Speio’s stares converge on me in seconds.

  “I’m just going for a walk. Jeez, relax.” I roll my eyes in Speio’s direction. “Don’t worry, my ankle bracelet will go off if I leave th
e area, so don’t let me interrupt you.” Cara obligingly reglues her face to his after an oddly triumphant stare at me. Once more, I don’t know what she thinks she’s doing, but she can have Speio for all I care. If he’s tied up with her, he won’t be as worried about me. Little does she know, but she’s doing me a favor, even if she’s just doing it to push my buttons.

  “Want some company?” Jenna asks. I nod to the rocks and raise an eyebrow. “Oh,” she says, squinting into the darkness. “Have fun.”

  By the time I walk over to the rocks, the moon has come out of hiding, bathing the water and the rocks in a silvery glow. Even Lo’s shape is outlined by silver, the moonlight flickering on his hair and making it gleam. I make my way up to the dock where he’s sitting, his feet dangling over the side. As I get closer I see that he’s on the phone. His voice is slightly raised and I can hear the edge of frustration in his voice.

  “I’ll get it done, don’t worry,” I hear him say before snapping his phone shut and tucking it in his back pocket. He leans his head on the railing and sighs. He must not have heard me approach over the sound of the waves against the rocks and his phone conversation, so I hover silently for a while and then realize that my hovering is borderline creepy. I clear my throat.

  “Hey,” I say quietly.

  “Hi.” His eyes are surprised but not unwelcoming. “What are you doing over here? Shouldn’t you be over there with the rest of your friends?”

  “I saw you,” I fumble, catching the tiny edge in his voice. He totally thinks I blew him off. “I mean, I was at the bonfire and saw you. Everything okay?” I ask, nodding to the phone peeking out of his pants pocket. “You sounded...stressed.”

  “It’s fine,” he says, frowning slightly. “Just my mother.”

  “Oh.”

  “She wants me to look at college applications.”

  “And you don’t want to?”

  Lo leans back on his elbows, watching as I sit with my back to one of the beams on the railing to face him. I cross my legs, my knee just grazing the skin of his thigh. The light touch has my body already heating up a few notches but I force myself to calm down. The coolness of the railing against my back helps.

  “Not particularly,” Lo says after a minute, turning his face away to stare out at the ocean. “I don’t really think it’s for me. I feel like my place is somewhere else, you know. I want to travel, experience different things....” His voice trails off. The expression on his face is wistful, almost longing.

  “Where do you want to go?” I ask.

  “Everywhere.” And then, “Where no one else has.”

  “Who says you can’t? Do that, I mean.” Lo stares at me with a long searching gaze as if he’s trying to see inside me. “What?” I ask nervously. The intense look in his eyes disappears and is replaced by something more shadowed and forced casual.

  “Nothing,” he says softly. “So are we going to talk about what I want to be when I grow up or are we going to talk about why you didn’t return any of my phone calls?”

  I’m torn between making up something outlandish or telling him some version of the truth as I’d done with Jenna. Lies can get you into a whole heap of trouble if you don’t keep track of them. I opt for the latter.

  “Lo, I’m really sorry about that,” I begin. “Family issues. Speio and I had a big fight, and things got ugly. We were both grounded, and my phone and car were taken away.” I shrug and paste an innocent look on my face. “So radio silence. I only got to come out tonight because Echlios is away for work—he travels a lot—and Soren got fed up of us.” I peek at his face—he’s totally buying it. “I’m really sorry.”

  “What did you fight about?” I opt for partial honesty again.

  “You.”

  A laugh. And just like that, I’m forgiven. If anything, I can see it by the lightening of his eyes and the slow smile that takes over his entire face. “He doesn’t like me much, does he?”

  “Protective,” I say. “But we’re not talking, and he’s macking on Cara so you’re safe. For the moment.” I grin, nodding my head to the bonfire on the beach. Lo’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

  “Cara? Didn’t see that one coming. Had no idea she even liked him.”

  “Probably has to do with me.”

  “Why do you think everything Cara does has to do with you?” Lo says, his voice mesmerizing and drawing my gaze to his lips. I drag it away, short of breath.

  “I told you, we have history,” I confess. “Apparently I used to be a mean girl.”

  “You?” he teases. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Grinning, I punch him and he grabs my fist in the same moment, pulling me toward him so I’m half-sprawled across his lap. I can barely move sideways, imprisoned by the railing on one side and warm muscular Lo on the other. His right arm cradles my shoulder and upper back. Holding myself perfectly still to not draw attention to my racing pulse, I try to stop breathing and stare at a button on his polo shirt. But even counting backward from one hundred doesn’t detract from the moonlight dappling his collarbone or the pulse in his neck that’s racing at the same speed as mine.

  I lock eyes with his nearly black ones in the darkness and forget how to breathe. They are fathomless and deep, but I can see everything in them...everything he’s feeling...everything he feels for me. No secrets. His hand weaves into the back of my hair and he pulls me against him in a warm hug. I breathe deeply. He smells like laundry detergent, ocean and salt, and something magical that I can’t quite describe.

  Incredibly, my heart rate slows to the tune of his, beating beat for beat in unison. I’ve never felt so at peace than I do at that moment with the sea crashing around us, and the only sound I can hear is that of our hearts singing the song of the other.

  My cheek is pressed into the dip beneath his shoulder and his chest, and I tilt my head so I can study the line of his jaw. It’s covered in a fine prickling of stubble that barely touches his cheeks. He has quite a nice nose, I realize—a slight bend in it suggests that it was broken at some point, but it suits him, balancing cheekbones that would be better suited to a supermodel. His ears are small, like curving seashells, and his eyes...are looking right at me.

  “What are you thinking?” he says, a smile in them.

  “Your ears remind me of shells,” I blurt out, and flush as his smile widens. Couldn’t I have come up with something a tad more romantic? Like, You have a killer smile. Or, Your eyes make me feel like I can fly. Okay, maybe not that last one. Lame.

  Lo tightens his arm and tucks me into him. “I think you have nice ears, too.” I laugh a little inside because my ears are pretty much the opposite of nice. They tend to gravitate toward the elf or bat species, depending on how you look at it. I prefer to think of them as the former—that’s just me—but they’re a long way away from seashells.

  Silence falls around us like an old comfortable blanket. I like that we don’t have to speak all the time. With Lo, there are no awkward silences. They’re not empty, but full, if that makes any sense. Like we’re still connecting even though we aren’t talking. My skin is learning the surfaces of his, and my nose, his scent. My fingers learn that his pulse jumps rapidly when I trail them along his arm. Our silences are just as meaningful as everything else.

  “You smell nice,” I say, nuzzling into his shirt. “Like salt and sea and vanilla. I like it.”

  Lo smiles down at me. “I love the ocean. My father—I mean my foster dad—used to say that when I was little I would rather fall asleep, dead tired, at the water’s edge than come in to bed.”

  “You didn’t live with your mom there?” A vague recollection flits across my mind of the day that I read Lo’s file in Cano’s office. It seems like years ago when it had only been a few months.

  “No,” he says slowly. “They were friends of my mother. She was...busy and traveled a
lot, so they took care of me when I lived with them in Hawaii. She paid all the bills. I saw her once a year, and that was my life. Then the accident happened. And I came here.”

  It is the first time that Lo has ever spoken to me about the accident, and while I do want to know as much as he is willing to tell me, I don’t want to push him. “What happened?”

  “Electrical fire, the cops said, in our boat,” he says so quietly that I have to strain to hear his words. “It was quick, they said. Painless, almost.” I can barely hear him but he doesn’t stop. “I miss them so much, Nerissa. Every day, it’s a struggle to not see their faces or think of them. And my foster dad—he’s the most helpless one of all and there’s nothing I can do but see him wither in the hospital. My mom thinks she can help him, but there’s no guarantee.”

  I don’t realize I’m crying until Lo’s gentle fingers wipe the tears away from my cheek. At his touch and the shine of wetness in his own eyes, my tears turn into a full-on waterfall. By the time my sobs subside, Lo’s shirt is a damp soggy mess.

  “Sorry.” I sniff and rub my eyes, knowing they will be puffy and red and completely unattractive.

  “It’s okay. It’s a shirt, and that’s what laundry is for. You all right?”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize...your story...your family...and it’s been a rough week...and I’m so tired of keeping everything in and together.” I realize that I’m rambling and force myself to slow down and speak more coherently. “It’s just that I lost my dad, too, before I could tell him, or show him, that I loved him. I mean I love Echlios and Soren, but it’s not the same. And I just found out that my mom’s...” I trail off, unable to find the words to finish my thought. Kidnapped? Taken? In danger?

  “Your mom’s what?” Lo asks.

  “Missing.” And then I kick myself. How do I explain a missing mother?

  Lo turns me to face him, concern written all over his face. My breath comes a little more quickly at the attention but my brain is spinning with convincing enough lies to cover what I’d stupidly blurted out. I glance nervously toward the beach as if I expect Speio to come running any minute at my blunder. I make myself calm down, knowing that he—like Echlios or Soren—can sense when I’m agitated or upset. Thinking about baby seals, and breathing through my nose and out through my mouth in a rhythmic sequence, gets my heart rate back to normal.