I open my eyes, blinking as Seth’s yellow gaze searches my face, his palms cradling my jaw.
“Are you hurt?” he whispers, wiping blood off my cheek with the pad of his thumb. I shake my head.
“Deep breaths,” he murmurs, and I meet his eyes as I force myself to take several slow lungfuls of air.
I look in his eyes as I exhale. I did it. I killed a Vessel. I didn’t freeze. I did it. And Seth Marsali is holding my face. He’s so close that his voice vibrates my rib cage when he talks.
He lowers his hands slowly, then steps back.
And I don’t say anything, even as we climb back down the ladder and ride back to the ship.
Even as I find my notebook by the stern, sit with my back against the metal, and let the blood dry on my face as Seth stalks down the stairs. We return, just the four of us, but somehow the boat feels empty.
Chapter 24
THOMAS COMES BACK WITH SUPPLIES, AND WE lift the anchor. We all jumped in the water when we got to the ship to rinse off the blood that was caked on all of us, but I still change my clothes and splash water on my face. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel clean again. No one really feels like talking, and for hours, we don’t.
The sun is set when Rielle finally finds me in the crow’s nest, the wind so cold that my face feels numb from it. Her hair is wet, and she smells vaguely like flowers. I wonder if Thomas found body wash on his supply run.
“I take it they never officially announced how Evelyn died,” she says finally.
I shake my head as I watch the waves beat against the front of the boat.
“Vessels,” she answers. I nod. It was never official, but I think most of us assumed.
“He thinks it’s his fault,” Rielle says at last.
The thought feels like a kick to the chest. “What? Why?” I bite out.
Rielle sighs heavily. I’m quiet as she bites her top lip, lost in thought. It slides between her teeth. “I’m from the Torch, too,” she says. My head whips to her, and she smiles softly. “I’m sorry, did my lack of refined fucking manners not give me away?”
She’s kidding, but there’s something about this story that has a scar to it. I have enough of those myself to sense them.
“My parents called me to the living room one night, before the Torch,” she starts, and her voice is quiet and small-sounding. “And they told me they had something for me. They put a blindfold on me. I thought it was a new bike,” she says, raising one shoulder and smiling even though her eyes are filling with tears.
“They sat me down and I heard them bring this person in. I could hear her breathing. They sat her in front of me, and then they . . . they took my blindfold off.”
She cracks her knuckles and looks down, rattling off the rest of the story like she’s tearing off a Band-Aid.
“And it was a man. My father’s age. His eyes were . . .” She takes a deep breath. “They were the deepest, scariest red I’ve ever seen. Like blood that was at its boiling point.”
I remember Lemmere, and the Vessel on the boat.
“I didn’t know what to do. I felt this . . . burning in my eyes, and I knew. I knew I’d been infected.”
The memory of my mother hunched over in the passenger seat, palms to her face, screaming . . . I blink and focus on my breathing. I can’t allow the panic to take over, not now. I want to hear the rest of it.
“They infected you on purpose?” I ask. Saying something drowns out the sound of my mom’s terrified shrieks as they play in my memory.
Rielle nods. “I screamed at them. I asked them why the hell they would do something like that. I shut my eyes, and they told me not to worry. That they had a solution.”
My stomach clenches. I’ve grown up around Curseclean and the idea of Runners. But I’ve never met anyone who used them before.
“Then they brought three more people out. One was a burly guy with sleeve tattoos. The other . . . she looked like my school librarian. One was just a kid.”
Rielle can’t hold the tears back any longer. They streak down her cheeks, mixing with the salt of the ocean.
“They were Curseclean. And my parents sat there on the couch next to me as they forced these people to meet my eyes. To take the Crimson so that I could live.”
Words don’t work as I think about what she’s telling me. The shame she’s inviting me to see. I fight to keep my face blank, to stop myself from crying, too.
“And I was a teenager. I didn’t think to tell them no. And for a while? That thought made me feel better about what happened afterward. How they tied the blindfolds back on those people and shuffled them outside. But since then, I realized that they didn’t have to force me to do anything. I was . . .”
She sucks on her bottom lip. “I was so scared, Charlotte,” she says, looking at me for the first time since she started the story. Her yellow eyes burn. “I traded their lives for mine.”
I feel hollowed out as I lower my gaze to the hands she has clenched on the railing so tightly her knuckles are white.
Rielle just told me her deepest shame. No prompting. No lies.
For a second, I wonder what would happen if I tell her the truth. If I let her in to see my darkest truth just as she’s let me in to see hers.
But I don’t. I can’t. Dean’s life is still at stake.
“You were a kid,” I whisper. “This is on your parents, and Anne.” I bite out her name like a bitter afterthought, and Rielle shakes her head slowly.
“See? I don’t get why people think that. Especially women. We should be better than that.”
I laugh before I can stop myself, and she tilts her head like she’s waiting for my explanation. “Come on, Rielle. This isn’t slut shaming. She cursed the world—”
“—and we loved it,” Rielle shoots back, her voice taking on the edge of someone who has sharpened their opinion over a long time. “I saw the T-shirts. I heard the stories. We loved her ‘womanly rage’ until it was too messy. Until it became real to us. Maybe we deserve this. Maybe it’s about time.”
The words hit me somewhere deep and send something spinning.
We loved her rage until it became real to us.
She takes a deep breath through pursed lips, and I look over at her. I expect her to apologize, but I don’t know why. She doesn’t, though. She reaches out and grabs my hand, and I don’t pull away. “I appreciate you trying to absolve me. But I don’t think I can be absolved. I don’t want to be. I knew what I was doing. We all did. Those moments show who people really are.”
Below us, Seth comes above deck. He walks to the bow. Rielle watches him.
“I want you to know that when Admiral Marsali tried to inoculate Seth against the Crimson just like my parents did me, they had to put a gun to Evelyn’s head to force him. He would have rather died than hurt other people, but couldn’t kill her. That’s the only reason he’s Xanthous. And it haunts him every single day.”
Rielle takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out slowly. She wipes her tears with the back of her hand. “I spent years trying to make it right—met someone who hated the Torch as much as I did. Together, we were going to change the world. But . . . that doesn’t always work out.”
I look down. Of course. Seth. I remember the image of her slipping out of his room.
“I didn’t tell you this so you could feel bad for the shitty person I am,” she says finally, her voice stronger. “I’ll sail this ocean and try and save as many people as I can with the evil gift I now have. It’s the least I can do. But Seth? He does this for Evelyn.” I understand. It was the same reason I wanted on that boat today. Rielle’s voice brings me back to the moment. I feel sick. I lean down, putting my head between my arms. I think about the promise I made him make last night. It’s the same kind that haunts him now. “But also because Evelyn believed that the world could be better, even after all of this. So when he sees things like that, like today”—she takes a breath—“I think it makes him wonder if the world can be saved.”
I loo
k down at Seth as he stares out at the dark, still water, and I wonder the same exact thing.
The sky is clear, the stars like spilled glitter on black velvet. And for once, the night is warm. I forgot my boots, but I don’t really need them.
I don’t really realize I’m hoping he’s out here until I see him standing at the stern.
Walk away, a voice in my head tells me. Nothing good can come from me getting more involved. But the thought that I made him promise something so painful when he’s already carrying the weight of Evelyn’s disappearance makes my heart hurt.
“You should be asleep,” he says without looking back. “Sleeplessness is a contributing factor for night terrors.”
I creep up next to him. He’s wearing a gray long-sleeved shirt, and the mirror on the long chain around his neck hits the railing with a soft tink.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
The memory from the boat plays in the recesses of my memory. The feel of the blade in my hands. The resistance as it met flesh. The blood.
His hands on my face.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You did well,” Seth offers. “Held your own.”
I incline my head, a thank you. He returns the gesture and then looks back over the water.
I remember what I thought when he first yanked me on board the deck of the Ichorbow. How much I hated him. How I thought he was a monster and told him so over and over.
Everything he’s done, he’s done to stem the guilt that eats at his core.
I can relate.
So I don’t know what we are: friends, or just allies. And it doesn’t really matter, since neither will survive the realization that I’ve been lying through my teeth this entire time. I steel myself and walk up beside him, trying my best to convince myself that it won’t hurt when that happens.
“But you can’t have night terrors if you don’t sleep. So. It’s just a matter of commitment.”
Seth smiles and looks down.
My gut twists, just a little, and I remember how it felt when Dean looked at me. Dean.
I glance away, reminding myself that I had to make Seth keep my company. And that Rielle was in his bedroom two nights ago.
Seth’s smile is crooked as he looks up at the stars. “So you’re just really committed to avoiding all your deep emotional traumas, is what you’re saying.”
I smile back. “What can I say. I lettered in emotional dodgeball.”
Seth considers the words. “Emotional dodgeball. Huh.”
It’s now or never. I swallow hard. “Rielle told me about Evelyn. About what you’re doing for her.”
If it’s an overstep, I can’t tell. Seth’s face is unreadable, and I plow forward.
“And I know it’s none of my business. I just wanted to apologize if what I asked of you in the canteen . . .” Seth turns to catch my eye, and the pain I see there almost knocks the wind out of me. Please kill me first, I’d asked. “If it hurt you. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
Seth considers my words as he looks out over the wakes rolling from the back of the ship.
“Did she tell you about my father? About what he did?”
I nod. “Basically.”
Seth exhales. “He put the gun to my head and told me to look up. I couldn’t. I thought the fear would be worse, but . . . it wasn’t. But then he put the gun to my head and told me he’d kill Evelyn. So I looked up. I gave the Crimson away. And every day I have to look in the mirror at these eyes and know what I did to earn them.”
“You did what you needed to do,” I say, hating how the words sound like something I tell myself all the time.
“You didn’t,” Seth says.
The only sound is the lapping of the waves as Seth studies the line where the sky meets the sea.
“Why would you tell them who you are?” he asks finally. “Maddox, I mean. She couldn’t prove it, I’m assuming. Why admit it?”
I don’t know if I’m just tired of lies, or if his honesty broke something in me. But the truth slips past my lips.
“I was trying to save my sisters,” I say. “I figured if I could just draw Maddox away, they’d have a chance to escape. And they’d find Dean and . . . get away. Get to safety.”
“Who is Dean?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“One of my best friends. My sister’s boyfriend.”
“That’s dumb,” he says, and I shoot him a death glare.
“I’m aware,” I bite out.
“Not that you shouldn’t care about other people, Charlotte. It’s just that your life is worth more than a bargaining chip. For anyone.”
“It’s not worth more than my sisters. It’s not worth more than Dean,” I snap, my voice rising too much.
The understanding washes over Seth’s face, and I know he’s seen me. He understands.
“Hell of a price to pay for someone else’s boyfriend,” Seth replies softly.
I fidget with the hem of my shirt as I search for the right words. By the time I find them—it’s not like that—it’s too late.
“Ah,” Seth says, leaning back, his hands wrapped around the other side of the railing. “You’re in love with him.”
“Don’t ah like you know the situation,” I snip.
Seth straightens, holding his hands up. “You’re right. I shall never ah again.”
“Good,” I shoot back. “Because I’m not.”
It’s quiet for a moment, the roar of the boat on the ocean the only sound filling the night.
“Does he know?” Seth asks.
“God, no,” I say absently, then immediately regret it as I whip my head to Seth. A grin spreads across his lips, and I know he got me. All of the secrets I’ve guarded without so much as a slip, and he pulled this out of me in under a minute. Fucking hell.
I drop my head to the railing and groan, and Seth lets out a soft snort.
“Wow, Charlotte the Chosen One. You’re shit at this.”
You’d be surprised, I think, shoving the thought down as I stand up.
We look out at the water together, and I rub a hand down my face. “Yeah. Sure. Fine. I love him.”
“For how long?” Seth asks.
I shrug. “Since as long as I can remember, I guess. He lived next to my grandma, so I’d see him a couple times a year when we visited. We grew up together.”
“And he fell in love with your sister,” Seth finishes.
“It wouldn’t make sense if he hadn’t,” I say immediately.
I feel Seth turn to look at me, a question on his face. I take a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips. “You’d love her, too, if you met her. Beautiful. Fierce. Smart. And she can sing like . . . like nothing I’ve ever heard. Her band, Nevermind, opened the Jingle Ball the year before everything went to shit.”
“This is your older sister?” he asks.
I laugh. “Yeah. And then my younger sister is—”
“The gymnast,” Seth finishes. I stop, remembering that I talked about Vanessa earlier, during the diving contest. I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
He leans his forearms on the railing. “You have to tell him,” he says finally.
The laugh that comes out of me sounds frantic, almost manic. I bite my lip and turn to Seth, my eyebrows arched as high as they’ll go. “Yeah. That’s a hard pass. How would I even start that conversation? Hey, Dean, my oldest friend. Mind if I put my mouth on your mouth? Oh hey, older sister, the military badass who can kill me with one hand, I was just professing my undying love to your boyfriend,” I joke.
Seth pushes off the railing and turns to me. “Well. I think you’d have to talk to her first, obviously. But being honest is better than shoving it down, especially if you don’t know what could happen if you took the chance.”
I want to laugh at the thought. I can’t believe I’m thinking about this. I can’t believe I’m talking about this. With Seth Marsali.
“It’s not even Harlow, though. Even if they broke up . . . I wouldn’t be able to tell hi
m. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“It’s easy. Watch.” Seth meets my eyes and takes a deep breath. I press my lips together, trying not to laugh as he prepares. “Dan,” he starts.
“Dean,” I correct, rolling my eyes as I comb my wind-wild hair out of my face. Seth waves me off and then brings his fingers under my chin, turning my face up to his.
He’s quiet for a second, and everything in me stills. The wind whips around us as Seth’s molten eyes bore into mine. The rough skin of his finger grazes the bottom of my jaw, and I fight back a shiver.
“I want you,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. The air in my lungs feels hot all of a sudden, and I breathe out as my heart stutters in my chest.
The words burn the air between us, and I nod.
“That’s pretty good,” I choke out.
He slowly lowers his hand from my chin and then shrugs one shoulder. “Keep it simple,” he says, leaning back against the railing and propping his elbows on the top bar. “Even if everything falls apart, if you’re honest? Your sister will respect you. And she might be pissed, but she’ll have your back. That’s what sisters do.”
I hear it as soon as he does, and I see the shadows crossing his face again. That’s what sisters do.
It goes quiet again. I speak, even if it’s just to pull him back from that mental ledge he’s walking on right now.
“You’re a good one, Seth. And Evelyn would be proud of you.”
He breathes in deeply through his nose. For a moment, I think I pushed it too far. But he blinks and turns back to the water, his eyes still fixed on me.
“You shouldn’t think too highly of me,” he murmurs, and the hurt in his gaze sears me like a brand.
“Well, I do. And I’m the Chosen One. So. It’s kind of a big deal,” I joke, desperate to try anything that will ease the pain on his face.
He nods, blinking too many times as he turns back to the waves. When Seth glances at me again, his eyes are bright with tears. The sight of them sucks all the air out of my lungs, and my eyes burn. I draw my eyebrows together and give him a nod—a salute from one broken thing to another. He straightens, wiping his face quickly with the back of his hand. “You are. But I have to say, as a diving judge? I question your credentials.”
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