by Hope Collier
“You did everything you could.” I met his eyes. “That wasn’t your fault, and it isn’t your responsibility to handle now.”
Gabe sat quietly, his expression torn.
I stood and walked over to the window, looking out over the moonlit water.
“They’re after me now, aren’t they?” My breath fogged against the glass.
Gabe’s arms wound around my waist from behind as he rested his head against mine. “Yes,” he murmured.
“What do they want with me? I didn’t do anything. Why would he even care? I don’t mean anything to anyone now.”
“That’s not true,” Gabe said.
“But, I mean Charlie’s gone, my mother is gone.” I turned in his arms. “Why would he be bothered with how you feel? Is it because I’m human, because I know too much?”
“No, Ashton. He isn’t coming to kill you, and it isn’t because of your knowledge,” Gabe muttered. “I said humans couldn’t be aware of us. Technically, you don’t fall under that category.”
I thought about that for a minute before pulling away to study his face. He gazed back with an immense sadness. Realization took hold.
“My mother,” I breathed. She wasn’t human — neither was I.
Gabe’s jaw clenched tight. He gave a slight nod.
I stared off, bewildered. What was happening? Just a few days ago, everything was normal — normal as far as I was concerned anyway. And now I was standing here with the guy of my dreams, neither of us is human, and some crazy man is after me — and very close to accomplishing his goal at that.
Did Oren wanting me specifically have something to do with it? If I didn’t know too much, and he wasn’t going to kill me, what was left?
“You’re the last,” he murmured.
“The last for what?” I whispered.
Gabe didn’t answer. He rested his forehead against mine, motionless as a mountain.
“Look, whatever it is, we can fix it. Okay?” I tried to reassure. “We’ll just work around it.”
“I couldn’t save her, but I will save you.” Gabe’s eyes snapped to mine. “I’ll keep you safe. We need to get out of here. Oren knows this place.”
“Do you think he’d come here looking for me?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not going to chance it. I have no idea why he didn’t take you when he had the opportunity, but I’m not giving him another one. He’s sure to think that I’m with you now, or will be soon.” He encouraged me toward the stairs.
“Hang on.” I freed my hand to grab the trunk with the locket and ring. “I don’t want to leave them.”
“I suppose we should gather our things,” Gabe said. “Pack your clothes. We’ll leave tonight.”
I nodded and let out a shaky sigh.
“Everything will be fine, love. I promise. I’m just being cautious.” Gabe kissed my forehead then stepped out of the room. “I’m going to pack. We’ll leave in a half hour.”
I gave him a weak smile and watched him down the hall. As I crossed the threshold to leave, something pulled me back inside.
My eyes flitted from the antique covered tables to the overflowing shelves of the room. Pulling out the desk drawers, I coughed and sneezed but didn’t come up with anything special. I followed suit around the space, lifting knickknacks and looking inside boxes, but the gnawing inside me wouldn’t stop.
I walked the perimeter of the room, looking over the same pictures as before. I paused at the image of the couple under the willow tree, realizing the hidden faces were that of my parents.
“What are you hiding?” I asked the painting. “What am I trying to find?”
Not surprisingly, the picture didn’t answer.
I stared at the canvas, frustration growing as I stayed in place. What was I missing?
Out of time, I decided to give up. I grabbed the painting of my parents and lifted it off the hook. A sharp thud sounded by my feet, and I looked down to see a weathered book lying on the floor.
I bent down and picked it up. It seemed to be an old leather journal. The front held the emblem of a coat of arms situated in the center of a unique lock. Points jutted from the middle like a star, each angle with a different curve or tooth in the indentation. I felt along the jagged edges of the parchment paper, wishing the flap would open, but it was no use. The lock didn’t budge.
“What good is this without a key?” I looked at the painting again.
“Ashton?” Gabe called from the hall.
“Coming!” I answered and grabbed the painting.
Gabe lifted an eyebrow when I closed the door behind me, canvas in hand.
“I didn’t want to leave it behind,” I said, keeping the book behind my back. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Gabe as much as instinct told me to keep the journal to myself for now.
“We need to decide where to go from here,” Gabe directed as we hurried down the hall.
“What do you mean? We have to meet Harry for the funeral,” I said, hiding the journal in my toiletry bag.
Gabe paused. “We can’t be any place that Oren could find you.”
“But Gabe, my … Charlie!” My voice caught in my throat.
“We can’t. I’m sorry but it’s too dangerous. If Oren knows about Charlie, and he has to, he’ll know to expect you. He’ll be waiting and not alone this time.”
My vision blurred with tears. “I can’t not tell him goodbye. I know he’s not there now, but I didn’t come when he asked me before. I can’t do that. This is my last chance to make things right. I’ll never see him again.” Salt water spilled down my cheeks.
Gabe pulled me forward, tucking my head beneath his chin. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re right. I won’t take that away from you. Forgive me for even thinking of it.” He sighed. “We can figure something out. We’ll just drive to New York and—”
“Wait. We aren’t going to New York. We’re going to Kentucky.”
“Kentucky? Why would we go there?” Gabe asked, confused and uneasy.
“Harry told me to meet him there. That’s where the funeral is going to be held. Is that bad?”
“Harry?” Gabe repeated.
“Yeah. Harry is Charlie’s best friend.”
“Harry.” Gabe paced around the room grabbing my things and stuffing them into bags.
“Gabe, what is it? Is Kentucky a bad place to go? Is there something going on with Harry?”
“Parts of Kentucky are mountainous. Remember I told you about Darach and Oren? The forest and mountains aren’t safe. Which part of the state would we be going?” he asked.
“The southeastern part, in Cumberland.”
Gabe’s knuckles whitened around the handle of my suitcase. “Why did Harry want to meet there?”
“He never said specifically. Just that he would explain later, but he sounded weird.” I tried to replay our conversation in my mind, but it was somewhat blurry from the chaos.
“Ashton, please try and remember.” Gabe peered down at me, his eyes hard with concern. “What exactly did he say? How did he sound weird?”
“He kept insisting that I meet him,” I answered. “It was his tone that was strange. He was sad but more than that, he sounded worried, insistent, like he thought I might not come.”
“What is Harry’s last name?” Gabe swallowed hard.
“Waterford. Why?”
“Of course.” His posture relaxed.
“What? Do you know him?”
“In a sense. Everything is going to be fine for now. We have some help. Harry is like me,” Gabe implied. “I’m guessing that he’s taking us to a place that Oren wouldn’t consider looking for you. He would never think of Kentucky.”
“Oh. Huh,” I murmured, not really understanding. “That’s good then.”
“Yes, very. Though I’m curious about your father and Harry’s involvement,” he deliberated, not really talking to me anymore. “Obviously Charlie knew our little secret, and Harry has been involved with him all of these years afterward. Tha
t’s highly unusual. It leaves a lot of questions to be answered.”
“How do you know that Harry is like you if you don’t know him?”
“His surname,” Gabe explained. “We do that when we choose to live among humans. We pick last names that refer to our native homes and landscapes. It makes it easier to identify each other. His name refers to a wet place.”
Considering that, I realized that in all this time I had never asked Gabe about his last name.
“Willoughby,” Gabe answered my unspoken question, a smile on his face.
Willow. Of course.
We finished gathering my things and loaded the car. Gabe locked the door and put the keys back in their hiding spot. I sighed, feeling a strange emptiness, like I was leaving a part of me behind.
Writing it off on stress, I clicked my seatbelt on as we rounded the drive toward the highway.
“What are you thinking?” Gabe brushed my hair over my shoulder. “You’re tense.”
“I have so many questions.” I sighed. “Is it okay to ask questions?”
“Yes, of course.” Gabe offered an encouraging nod. “You must have countless things that you want to know. What would you like to ask first?”
“If we aren’t human, what are we?”
“It’s somewhat difficult to describe. We have human descriptions, most of which are unflattering and rather offensive at times.” He rolled his eyes. “Humans truly have no grasp of what we really are, which is a good thing. It means we’ve done well hiding ourselves and blending in.”
“Gabe, please.” I eyed him.
“Well, I suppose the human definitions will work the best for now.” He glanced at me, his perfectly arched brow lifted on one side. “You have to remember that any concepts you may have of our kind are most likely entirely inaccurate, so please put away any preconceived notions.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
“What do you know of mythological beings?” He shifted in his seat to face me. I couldn’t help but smile at his business-like tone.
“A fair amount, I suppose. You know the books I’ve read and the authors I like. Mythology is right up my alley.”
“Precisely.” He laughed once. “That is my whole motivation behind the terms speech. You might have a difficult time grasping this, especially with the fairytale world you seem to enjoy so much.”
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad. What are we, pixies?” I teased. He leveled a cynical glance my way. Taking his hand, “I mean whatever you are, I am, right?”
“Sure. You were warned however, and you’ll do well to remember that when this discussion is over.” His eyes crinkled into a smile.
“Fine. I’m good and warned,” I teased. “Let’s hear it.”
“Where to begin? I explained to you about being locked up for those two weeks and needing water. So far, I really haven’t been able to tell if you had an inclination for it.”
Inclination? Of course I liked water; we talked about that. We obviously weren’t mermaids. Well, I didn’t think we were — though the whole flipper notion could be way off. Mermaids could have legs. No, that was ridiculous. Maybe.
“Are you going to tell me or make me guess?” My question was meant to be lighthearted but the curiosity burned through.
“Fine,” he sighed. “Eleionomae. Does that sound familiar?”
“Elay-oh-no-may?” I repeated.
“Yes,” he said slowly.
My forehead creased as I stared out the windshield trying to remember where I’d heard the term.
“Would you like a hint?” Gabe grinned.
I scowled a little but nodded.
“One word,” he said. “Hylas.”
“Hylas? Hmmm, let’s see. He was an Argonaut and the supposed son of the Greek demigod Heracles, right?”
“Very good,” Gabe praised cautiously. “Do you recall what happened to him?”
“Of course. He disappeared because he was seduced and fell in lust with a—” My sentence was cut short as understanding sank in. Laughter filled the car.
“What’s so funny?” he questioned, his tone disbelieving.
“Oh … come … on … Gabe.” I struggled to stay on the road, my eyes wet with tears. “How could that even be possible? It’s absurd!”
“I told you.” Gabe’s face turned disapproving. “I said that you were going to have to throw out any preconceived notions.”
“But a … a nymph? That’s impossible! Nymphs are all female and lusty and…”
“You see, this is why we don’t tell people. And you think I’m crazy.”
I tried to stifle my laughter.
“Are you quite finished?” Gabe asked, crossing his arms, playfully put out. “I thought you wanted to know about all of this?”
“Ahh, I think so. I’m sorry. I just can’t get that Waterhouse painting out of my mind. You’re not Hylas, are you?” I crooked an eyebrow.
Gabe rolled his eyes. “One poor fool and suddenly we’re a disorder.” His head shook. “And more appropriately, we would be Naiads if we’re maintaining labels. While it’s true that a vast majority of nymphs are women, they certainly aren’t all female, as you can see.”
I couldn’t suppress the smile, but the snort I kept to myself. “So what are the Eleionomae again? The term sounds familiar, but I don’t remember what it means.”
“Well, it mostly refers to our particular dwelling. We inhabit marshlands. The Potameides reside around rivers. Pegaeae live near springs and the Limnatide lakes. Those are basically the water dwelling nymphs you need to know.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize there were so many.”
“We aren’t that different in most ways. It mainly comes down to our preferred living areas, or homewaters, I suppose you could call it. Each clan has a certain knack in our individual places. It’s a matter of being in an area where you can regenerate most efficiently. We’re much more similar to one another than we are with the Dryads.”
“So, the Dryads, they live in the forest or trees or something like that, right? Or is that just another human assumption?” In my mind’s eye, I had image of a wispy tree-lady that looked like she had limbs for fingers. Not a picture to be taken seriously.
“No, that one is correct. They do live around forests and there are more ways to classify them than us. There are the Hamadryads which are by far the most populous. They dwell around the oaks. The list goes on, but it’s not important right now.”
“I guess I have a lot to learn,” I mused.
“That isn’t the half of it. Our world is so much more complex than this one.” Gabe waved his hand. “I think that’s why so many of our kind tend to stick around the humans. It’s easier at times, until you fall in love with one.” His fingers traced across my palm and up my arm.
After a moment, I remembered to breathe. “I’m only half human, you’re forgetting. Speaking of which, what am I?”
Gabe laughed at my choice of words. “Well your mother was Eleionomae like me, but she chose that as her family often lost their homes. They began making adjustments in their settlements. You see how things can get complicated?”
“How do you keep it all straight?”
“That is an excellent question,” he said with a hint of an idea behind it. “Can you repeat everything I just explained?”
“What?” I looked at him.
“Repeat what I told you.” He nodded, his eyes locked on me.
I rattled off, word for word, everything Gabe had just spoken about nymphs. My eyes rounded. “Why do I know this?”
“Amazing. I’ve never encountered this before.”
“Gabe, what is going on?” I was feeling a bit strange — I had been for days. My erratic emotions were so clear and sharp, my intensified desire for water, and the minute differences I saw in my physical body. I’d just attributed my craziness to the stress.
“You’re showing some Naiad-like tendencies, as if you’re developing new instincts. I’ve heard of this happening, but
have yet to see it firsthand. This doesn’t occur with full Naiads. It’s fascinating. How do you feel right now?”
“Freaked out is how I feel! Naiad-like tendencies? What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice shot up in panic. What was going to happen? Was I going to develop gills or flippers? Would I be overcome by some commanding lust? My grip tightened around the wheel.
“Ashton, love, calm down. You aren’t going to sprout a tail. A majority of it is heightened senses,” Gabe soothed. “For instance, you asked how I could keep everything straight. That’s because we don’t forget anything. Ever.”
“Oh. That’s not so bad, I guess.” It would be nice never having to write phone numbers down or have reminders for birthdays. But then heightened senses, new instincts, how would that play out?
“It’s somewhat reminiscent of puberty,” he chuckled. “You reach a certain point, eighteen to be more precise, and bang, it’s set in motion. Like I said before, this isn’t at all the norm. In fact, it’s extremely rare.”
“Puberty? I don’t want to go through puberty again.” It was bad enough the first time around. I did a lot of crying then, too.
“No, no. It isn’t anything like human puberty. Your Naiad body seems to be altering. You shouldn’t concern yourself. Nothing bad will happen.”
“I’m really thirsty.” I closed my mouth, my tongue dry and sticky feeling.
Gabe’s eyebrows shot up.
“What?” I demanded. “Gabe, you have got to stop doing that. It’s weirding me out!”
“Sorry. I’m at a loss for what to think right now. You seem to be resurrecting the makeup of a Naiad. The thirst, the memory, the desire for being in water. You’re showing signs of a true nymph, not a half-breed, for lack of a better term.”
“What are you saying? I’m turning into a real Naiad!”
CHAPTER TEN
Complicated
“I have no idea,” he said. “I need to talk to someone who knows more about it.”
“That’s just great then. I’m some super-nymph freak. Maybe I should get a cape.” I rolled my eyes.
Gabe laughed louder than I’d ever heard him.
“Nice to know I’m entertaining,” I replied a little sharper than I meant, my dry throat feeling like sandpaper.