“Where is he?” I blurt out, earning a censorious glance from Echlios. But I don’t care. I want to see Lo for myself before reading other people’s expressions and having to accept their hidden compassion.
“He’s over here,” a blonde, hefty-looking woman says from down the hall.
“Hi, Bertha.”
Bertha, Lo’s housekeeper, is as Amazonian-looking as ever, but she manages a small smile in my direction before enfolding me into an unexpected bear hug. Her affection throws me for a minute, but Lo is the closest thing she has to a son and I know that she knows how Lo feels—felt—about me. I return the hug a little more fiercely than I’d intended, stunned by my sudden surge of emotion.
“How is he?” I ask.
“We have our good days and our bad days. He’s having a good day today. He surfed early this morning and seems to be in bright spirits. Come.” She gestures for me to follow her into the sunroom that overlooks the ocean and the entire La Jolla coastline down to the beach below. Echlios and Grayer follow like silent shadows. I don’t want to let my eyes linger on the beach beyond the wall-to-wall glass windows...and the exact spot where Lo and I were together...but I do, anyway.
And then I turn in slow motion to the boy getting up from the couch. My heart climbs its way into my throat and stays there, choking me with silent, vicious pain. He looks the same—the salt-bleached sandy hair that’s now curling into his collar, the bronzed sunburned cheekbones, and the wide, smiling mouth. Those dark, bottomless blue eyes reach into the most hidden parts of me and claim ownership. They’re full of polite interest, but there’s no recognition in them at all. I can’t breathe, far less speak.
“Lo, you have a special visitor,” Bertha says gently, her face stricken, mirroring my own response, still stuck in my chest. “This is Nerissa.”
His eyes narrow at the sound of my name, but nothing clicks in them that suggests he recognizes it. Lo glances at Bertha and she nods. He looks confused for a second but then smiles widely and sticks his hand out. “Hi, Nerissa.”
The sound of his warm voice wrapping around my name is my undoing. That hasn’t changed—not the way he and only he says my name, like it’s a sensual act instead of a mere word. Even if he doesn’t know me, some part of him still does. It has to. I can’t help myself—I step closer, ignoring his outstretched palm, and wrap my arms around the nape of his neck. I breathe in the smell of salt on his skin and press my temple against the soft stubble on the underside of his jaw. His body tenses, but I feel his arms slip around my waist in a tentative hug. I hug tighter, tears smarting behind my eyelids at how intimately familiar his human body feels against mine.
“It’s good to see you, Lo,” I whisper against his neck.
As if a spell has been broken, Lo pulls away, his eyes narrowing a fraction in frustration as he struggles to remember. “So you’re Nerissa? Bertha told me that we were friends.”
“Friends,” I repeat, hearing my own voice break slightly on the word.
“We went to school together, right? Dover?”
I swallow hot bile at his nervous recitation. Even prepared, his reaction comes as a shock. I don’t even want to look at Bertha or Grayer, or even Echlios. I don’t want to see the expressions on their faces. Instead I smile through trembling cheeks and watery eyes. “Yes. We met at Dover. You don’t remember me at all?”
The look in his eyes is tortured, as if he’s struggling to place me in his head. “There’s a part of me that feels like it does know you,” he says, gesturing to his chest. “But I can’t remember it here.” His fingers jerk to his head and then flutter to his sides in a defeated motion. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him in a choked voice. “You’ll remember.”
“I had some kind of seizure while driving and now I have a concussion—” Lo points to his skull “—hence the amnesia. I’m sorry I don’t remember much,” he says to me, and then forces a grin, one that still makes my knees turn into rubber. “I’d like to think yours is a face I wouldn’t forget, but I guess the silver lining is that we get to know each other and be friends again.”
But obviously, he has forgotten—not just meeting me, but me, period. “I’d like that,” I say, unable to voice the truth that we are so much more than friends. I avoid Echlios’s eyes. “You seem to be taking it well, your memory loss.”
Lo shrugs, his mouth twisting in that casual, cute way of his, as if he’s trying to put on a brave front. “I’m hoping the doctors will fix it eventually. I just have to do the therapy and hope that it comes back. Freaking out doesn’t help anyone.”
It sounds so much like something he’d say that it’s hard to think that parts of him aren’t all there, or that maybe he’s pretending and this is some big prank. But I know it isn’t. I see it in his eyes—in that assessing look people give you when they’re meeting you for the first time. He doesn’t remember me at all.
“I’m sorry.”
Lo slides me a soft smile. “I guess I remember the big things. The little things will come back in time.” He trails off in awkward silence but then grins brightly. “Hey, I’m parched. You want a drink? Bertha makes the best pink lemonade this side of the Pacific.”
Dying a little inside, I nod, and he walks out of the room, followed by a silent Bertha. I sit weak-kneed on the couch that Lo vacated a few minutes before, my heart feeling as if it’s being crushed beneath a hammer.... I remember the big things.
“Exactly how much does he remember?” I ask Echlios in an unsteady voice.
“He has many, if not all, of his long-term memories, but there are big gaps in his short-term memory. Our local contacts have confirmed that he is suffering from some kind of retrograde amnesia, but we can’t quite place whether the concussion from the accident caused the amnesia or if it was a symptom of something else prior to the accident. Bertha said that he couldn’t remember little things at the beginning of the summer, long before any of this happened.
“Don’t worry. We’re flying in a top-notch neurosurgeon from L.A. at the end of the week. One of ours,” he adds.
Of course, one of ours. We are a water species, living for the most part in the shadows of the deep, but that doesn’t mean we don’t keep our fingers on the pulse of everything landside, from global policy to technology to politics to neurosurgeons. If it can help Lo, I’m all for it.
“You think the amnesia was already there before he passed out?” I ask. “From what?”
Echlios walks to the wall of windows, staring out at the ocean beyond. His face is creased, the lines on his forehead deep with tension. He takes a deep breath as if trying to find the right words. “Stress,” he says after a while. “Emotional trauma.”
Jenna’s earlier words come back to haunt me...about people dying of broken hearts and being physically compromised by their intense emotions. “Emotional trauma,” I repeat.
Echlios nods. “He killed his mother. We have no idea what kind of effect that can have on someone.”
“She wanted to kill him,” I argue weakly.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s still traumatic.”
“Why?”
Echlios sighs. “Because he’s part human. He can’t turn it off as easily as we can. Humans aren’t predators. It’s not so simple for them.” He stops and walks toward me, his voice gentling. “What’s going on with Lo is an incredibly rare form of amnesia—dissociative amnesia—that occurs after intense emotional shock. At least, that’s the initial diagnosis.”
As much as I try, I can’t seem get my mind around it. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any human DNA, or maybe our Aquarathi brains don’t work that way. It’s not a lack of empathy, necessarily, more of an adapt-to-survive way of thinking. Emotions just aren’t that critical to us—sure, we have them deep down, as I’d discovered from my people when I fought Ehmora in the arena, but other phy
siological needs like hunger and thirst take precedence. It’s a matter of survival in the wild. Humans let emotions affect them far too much and, obviously now in Lo’s case, to the point of physical weakness.
At that moment, Lo reenters the room carrying two tall glasses of pink lemonade. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” I say. It was easier with him out of the room. My senses are so acutely tuned in to him that now I feel claustrophobic, as if his very presence is suffocating me. On top of that, every drop of water in my body is reaching toward him...reaching for its other half. The sensation is dull and aching, as if my skin is separating from the flesh beneath it. I take a deep breath and a sip of my drink.
“So, will you be at Dover for our senior year?” Lo asks, resuming his position on the couch beside me.
“I don’t think so. We’re not here for long. School started a few weeks ago, right?”
“Yeah.”
Our conversation seems normal on the surface, but underneath, it feels stilted and uncomfortable, as if we’re two kids set up by overeager parents. I clear my throat awkwardly. “So I guess I’ll see you around—”
The shrill sound of Lo’s cell phone interrupts my sentence. “I have to take this, hang on,” he says to me, and taps on the screen. “Hey, Cara, what’s up?”
Lo walks to the other side of the room, but I can still hear his side of the conversation. My stomach free-falls to my feet. They’re making plans to meet up at the Crab Shack. “No, I’m free,” he says. “I can meet you in, like, half an hour. Seriously, I’m almost done here.” I’m crumbling inside with every word...every little sound that leaves Lo’s mouth, saying I’m nothing to him.
Sinking into the couch, I’m barely conscious of Echlios taking a seat next to me. I was wrong about us being emotionless. Maybe our emotions run far deeper than those of humans, because nothing should feel like this. Nothing should feel like my very bones are breaking into tiny little pieces inside me, turning into ash. This isn’t survival now; it’s something else entirely...something beyond my comprehension.
“Echlios—” I choke out. And he’s there, grabbing my numb fingers in his and drawing me back from the edge of the abyss.
“Breathe,” he pulses to me softly in our language.
“I need to go. It hurts too much to be this near him,” I whisper.
Before Lo and I bonded, I wasn’t able to feel him as an Aquarathi because of his hybrid genes, and the link that finally connected us feels like it’s weakening by the second. Queen or not, I can feel him leaning away, and there’s no way to stop it.
Or maybe there is.
I squeeze Echlios’s hand, unsure of what I’m about to do but knowing that I must do it nonetheless. “Can you wait outside? Take Bertha with you. I know what I have to do.”
“My queen, I must insist—” Echlios says, his eyes widening at my meaning.
“Echlios, please. I have to know. And this is the only way—surely you of all people know that.”
“But a glimmer?” Echlios’s eyebrows snap together so tightly I’m surprised that he can see anything beneath that ominous frown. “What if he latches on unconsciously? You’re bonded now. That connection goes both ways.” He shakes his head. “With the amnesia, it’s just too dangerous.”
“I’ll deal with that if it happens, but from what I’ve seen, he won’t notice it. He doesn’t know me. Trust me, I’ll be safe, I promise. I have to try, Echlios. Please.”
Echlios watches me, his eyes like a brewing thunderstorm, but eventually he nods and gives in to my wishes. “Be careful, then. If you feel anything, you separate immediately, okay? I’ll be right outside this door.”
“I will,” I promise, even though a part of me deep down wants Lo to feel my glimmer and take me into him. I want him to fight for me.
After Echlios leaves, I source the water in my body and prepare myself for hydroprojection, or as we call it, glimmering. I can connect with other Aquarathi as well as humans via the moisture in the air and in their bodies. It allows me to speak to them, understand their impulses or even control them by the power of suggestion, if necessary. Which I’ve only ever done once. And never to any of my friends.
So this is still new for me, which is why Echlios is on edge. If Lo’s Aquarathi side unconsciously fastens to my glimmer for whatever reason, he could suck the energy right out of me through our bond...as in my entire Aquarathi life force. But I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, and I’ve no intention of letting that happen. It’s a risk, but one I’ll take.
Calling upon my water, I pull it toward my center until it’s a heavy weight resting near the middle of my chest. Gently, I push it toward Lo, who is still talking to Cara. The sound of her name ripples through me like a tidal wave, and the glimmer dissipates in a wild rush, slamming back into me and making me breathless. I’m still gasping and trying to compose myself as Lo ends his call and walks back over to me.
“You all right?” he says, frowning.
“Fine,” I manage, coughing. “Lemonade went down the wrong way.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and then gestures to the phone in his pocket. “Sorry about taking that call, too. I didn’t mean to be rude. That was just Cara, one of my friends.”
I take a gulp of my drink, ignoring the sharp sting of jealousy, and will myself to focus on what I’m about to do. “So, do you still hang out with Sawyer and Jenna?”
Lo’s eyes light up. “Sure. Sawyer’s teaching me how to surf, and Jenna takes pictures of me looking like an idiot.”
Teaching Lo how to surf? The Lo I know could school Sawyer on all the ins and outs of surfing. He’s that brilliant on the wave.
“I doubt that,” I say, surprised that the amnesia would affect his actual abilities.
“Well, I’m better than I used to be,” he says with a modest grin. “Hours of practicing. I’m determined to surf at Trestles one day.”
Choking back the immediate retort that he used to dominate at Trestles and every other expert break in San Diego, I remain silent. That’s different, too, I notice. Lo used to be arrogant and cocky. Now he’s all vanilla pudding and apple pie, like a Stepford version of himself. It’s not bad...I just miss the undertone of funny-boy snark. It kept me on my toes, and the witty comebacks had made Lo Lo. Maybe it’s selfish, but I have to know what’s in his head and whether any of the Lo I know and love is still in there somewhere deep down. I have to do the glimmer—it’s the only way to be sure.
“So, how was the Marine Center this summer?” I ask to get him talking. I see his surprised expression and add, “We worked there together last year.”
“Wow, we really did know each other well,” he says with a rueful smile. “Seriously, I feel like I can’t stop apologizing to you for not remembering any of this.”
“It’ll come back.”
“I hope so,” he says in earnest.
As Lo launches into some of the new ocean-conservancy initiatives he was overseeing at the center, I clear my head of everything but water and pull myself together once more. The glimmer stretches outward like a shimmering golden net and then connects with his. The pull of him is so seductive, so visceral, that I almost lose hold of the glimmer. What I’m doing is not exactly Sanctum. Instead I’m just trying to see if my Aquarathi side recognizes its mate within him. If Lo were himself, he’d naturally be able to feel me doing this and enjoy it as much as I do, but it’s obvious that he has no idea who I am...or what I am. For all intents and purposes, he’s just another person.
Only he’s not. He’s my mate.
And even in glimmer form, the act of being inside him is as intimate as being with him—even more so. I can barely breathe. Every inch of my skin feels electrified from the contact between us. The bond is still there, and strong. A thrill of brief relief flutters through me—he hasn’t forgotten me entirely, even i
f the human part of him has.
Lo is still talking and, slowly, I glimmer past the barrier of his thoughts, trying to see past the indistinct memories...to see anything that would give me a sliver of hope. But other than the instinctual recognition from the dormant glimmer within him, there’s nothing. There’s no indication that he knows me at all.
Water rushes in my ears and I snap back into myself with a jolt, realizing that Lo is shaking my shoulders.
“What?” I gasp.
“Nothing,” he says. “You looked like you were in a trance or something. Are you okay?”
“Fine. I must be tired, jet-lagged.”
“Oh, right, you flew a long ways.”
I nod, unable to speak, watching as Lo stands awkwardly with an odd expression on his face. He hesitates and then blurts out the question on the tip of his tongue. “Did you feel anything strange just before?”
“Like what?” I ask.
“Never mind.” He opens his mouth and closes it, and then laughs out loud at himself. “It was nothing. I felt a weird connection, like from my belly button, as if something was pushing me toward you.” He pauses, still looking awkward. “And then there was this bizarre glow stretching between us. You didn’t feel or see anything?”
I shake my head and swallow. “No.”
“Twilight Zone!” He shrugs with an embarrassed grin. “Maybe your jet lag is contagious, or maybe Bertha put crack in the lemonade.” The slight appearance of the old Lo takes me by surprise, and my pulse leaps. Maybe he’s not all gone. “Anyway, thanks again for stopping by. We should hang out before school. Maybe this weekend? Surfing Sunday?”
“I’d like that.” I stand, not wanting to prolong the agony by watching him leave to go meet Cara. “Thanks for...seeing me.”
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