He backed up a few steps, his face a mask of seriousness. “The first thing you need to learn to do is to deploy the knife as fast as possible.”
Sometimes he wore his knife under the leg of his shorts on a thigh belt like the one he’d given me. Other times, like today, it was clipped under the waistband on his right hip. When he reached for it, I barely flinched before he held the edge to my throat, right under my jaw.
“How did you do that so fast? I didn’t even see it coming.”
“That’s the point. Never let them see it. They need to feel it. First blood’s the best blood and you have to make sure it’s not yours. But all I want you to be able to do is get it out of the sheath and in front of you quickly.” He proceeded to demonstrate once again, sheathing and unsheathing his knife over and over, the stroke of his arm quick and smooth. I got the feeling we were no longer talking about sharks.
“You ready?” He turned for the water.
“Where are you going?” I asked, staring after him.
“You can practice out there. It’s not near the same in the water as it is on land,” he said in one of those “duh” moments I suffered whenever I thought with my lander brain. Of course I’d practice in the Deep. I followed him into the surf, waves rolling gently around my legs.
“Feel the grip first. Don’t even pull the knife out the first few times, just practice getting your fingers around the handle without having to look. The last thing you want to do is drop it. In the case of a real attack, seconds will matter.”
I submerged slowly, my whole body sighing as the water washed away my sweat. I swam close behind Noah, coasting in his draft until he stopped a few hundred yards out and faced me, giving me the go ahead. He’d tied his hair back on the way, and the tail of it floated behind him. I felt a little foolish, my feet hovering over the sand while I reached for the knife. On my first attempt, I overestimated how far to reach and ended up grabbing it at the bottom. It took a few tries for my hand to find the handle with the right amount of bend in my elbow, but once I did, my reach was smooth and sure.
Soon, Noah made a game of it. He circled me, playing the role of the shark. He did a pretty good imitation of moving like one. He’d dart close, bumping in various places, getting in a good pinch with his fingers in some of his favorites. I drew the knife in response. Over and over, until I was competent.
Then he had me practice drawing while swimming. The angle was a bit different in a horizontal position, but soon we were playing more than anything. I was getting faster. One time I actually drew so fast he wasn’t in the clear and I ended up slicing the blade across his calf. Of course I’d screamed—I could do that underwater—and dropped the knife when I saw the blood. Noah gave me a stern look before he bolted for the sinking knife, snagging it before it hit bottom. I headed for the surface.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you,” I said when his head bobbed up beside me.
“Caris, never drop your knife. Use it enough times and eventually you’re going to cut something. You have to be prepared for that.” His hand found my thigh, and he slid the knife back in place.
We’d been practice/playing for over an hour, and I lay on my back and looked up at the sky, deciding it was a good time for a break. We were a good three hundred yards out. A group of pelicans floated nearby, and one of them flapped its wings and squawked at us. Noah was on his back too, and we drifted like pieces of wood, watching the clouds.
“Where did you learn your knife handling skills?” I’d seen Noah use his knife more than once, mostly to threaten other people. This was clearly a case of do as I say, not as I do.
“Play fighting mostly. Jamie and I used to think it was cool, but according to my dad, there’s no such thing as a cool knife fight. In the lander world, someone always has a gun and you never take a knife to a gun fight.”
I loved these moments, when Noah opened up and talked about Jamie, listening to stories of when they were younger. They’d grown more frequent and it was clear he missed Jamie and his dad a great deal.
I ducked under the water and came up beside Noah and put my head on his stomach, letting my feet dangle below us. I’d learned he was an effective flotation device. Some of our best afternoons were spent out here simply floating and talking.
“I was always trying to keep up with Jamie. Mostly I was a pest. We got into it one day. I can’t even remember what I did. I was feeling extra cool with my new blade. I challenged Jamie to a fight. At first he laughed at me until I nearly cut his finger off. And then, well, by the time my dad found us, we were both cut up pretty bad. Nothing deep—we were too timid to inflict any real damage—but I remember my dad getting really pissed. He rarely raised his voice at us, but he did that day. Then he took our knives away and refused to let us get in the water for hours. We baked in the sun, the blood from all the cuts drying on our skin. It itched like hell. We were both miserable. His point was well taken.”
“What was his point?” I asked, looking up over his chest to his face. He lifted his head, piercing me with his green eyes, the muscles under my check bunching with the movement.
“Nobody wins a knife fight.” In a sudden move, he flipped over and ended up facing me. He’d tried using me as a raft a few times but I only ended up sinking under his weight. I liked this position. Thigh to thigh. Chest to chest. His arms around my waist.
“Flores is your uncle, huh.” He didn’t sound too happy about that either.
“Surprise, surprise,” I said.
“You’re full of them, that’s for sure.”
“Does that matter to you?”
“You matter to me, and what this means for you matters. And if you don’t want to do the Soulfast, if you’re not ready, Athen and Flores can’t force you. I won’t let them.”
While I appreciated the sentiment, the glint in his eye scared me.
“I think I am ready. But I have to talk to my dad first.” I put my forehead to his, bumped his nose with mine, going in for a nibble at his lips. His eyes burned into me and his hands went to my hips, his left one tracing the path of the belt over my thigh.
“You know this is driving me crazy.”
I smiled against his mouth, nibbled a little more. “Show me.”
I held on as he took us under. We didn’t come up for a long time.
* * *
The next morning, I climbed aboard the Muerte Blanca before the sun was up, surprised to find Sol awake. He was on the deck, reclining in one of the seats. He held a blunt between his fingers and appeared to be watching the stars.
He blew out a line of smoke and the sweet musky scent of dreamweed greeted me. The breather’s smoke of choice, it grew in beds out in the Deep and Sol always kept a rack of it drying on his boat. I’d tried it a few times, and while it didn’t exactly get you high, it did take the edge off reality. I just liked the way it smelled.
“You’re awake,” I said, stating the obvious. He didn’t react at all to me being there, as if he were used to having people board his boat in the predawn hours.
He turned his head to me with a sarcastic lift of his brows. “The question is, are you awake?”
“As far as I can tell. Are you alone?” The cabin was dark, but then I presumed it would be this time of morning. I had also wrongfully presumed he would be asleep.
“Not anymore. What are you doing here?”
Good question. I wasn’t sure I had an answer other than I woke up before dawn thinking about the end of the world. I’d planned to sneak aboard and watch the sun come up and leave before Sol knew I was here, not counting on Sol being such an earlier riser. Or maybe he hadn’t slept at all.
“I don’t know. Do you want me to leave?” I watched the fiery tip of his blunt as he brought it to his mouth. It flared when he pursed his lips around it.
“I’m not going to talk about Flores.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.” And I wasn’t. But if he wanted to talk, I was all ears. Especially now that I’d spent some time
with Flores and my impression of my uncle was so incongruous with Sol’s open animosity. “Can I sit?”
He exhaled, blowing out a cloud of smoke that swirled on the breeze. “Sure. Whatever.”
I padded across the deck, dripping water as I went, and took the seat across from him. He kicked me the towel bunched at his feet.
“I used it earlier. It might still be damp.”
“Thanks,” I said, tossing it back. “I’m good.” The air was mild and sticky, the gulf water like a warm bath. I wanted to feel it trickle down my skin.
Sol was propped up with a cushion, giving him a view of both the water and the sky. I elected to lie flat on my back, seeing nothing but the dark sky and array of stars, enjoying the gentle rock of the boat. The quiet that persisted under the faint gurgle of water.
“I noticed the dreams stopped,” he said after I was settled and relaxed.
“Yeah, you were right.” I sighed.
“I usually am,” he said, and I heard the smile in his voice.
I hadn’t had one nightmare since I talked with Athen. Granted, it had only been three days. I’d been sleeping soundly, but I always did when Noah was around. He’d mumbled something about coming with me when I rolled out of bed earlier. Then drifted back to sleep before I could kiss his cheek and tell him no. I’d nuzzled him for a few seconds, appreciating he didn’t feel the need to follow me around like a watchdog. He believed in me. Believed in my ability to take care of myself, even in the Deep, a place that was still new and intimidating for me. I loved him for it. “Knife,” was all he’d said as a reminder as I’d slipped out the door.
“Are your eyes closed?” I asked, curious if it was just me. Was it because I was new there seemed to be so many things to stay awake for? So many things I didn’t want to miss. Watching the sun rise was one of them.
“No.”
“It’s weird, as of four months ago I’d never been out on the water like this. When I was little, I believed any water was full of monsters. It always grabbed me. I wouldn’t even step in a puddle. Take a bath. And now it’s a vital part of my life.” I inwardly cringed, hoping I didn’t sound cheesy. Then decided I didn’t care.
Sol didn’t respond, and I didn’t expect him to. But I knew he was listening. I rolled over on my side, propping my head on my elbow. It was like nothing else existed out here and there was a freedom in that. There was also something freeing about Sol. I could be myself with him without fear of judgment. I had that with Noah too, but it was different. Deep down, I didn’t want to disappoint Noah with my choices. He seemed too good to be true sometimes and there was a pressure that came with that. Sol just was, and oddly, I felt I could just be when I was with him. Say anything and do anything and it wouldn’t matter.
“I did something at school I’m not proud of.” I dropped my voice low to keep it from carrying over the water as if the dark, the Deep, had ears.
“What? You copied off someone’s paper?” His tone was acerbic.
“I used my power to mess with somebody.”
“Oooh.” He laughed, and it did carry over the water. For miles it sounded like. He turned his head and wiggled his fingers at me. “Now you just need to work on your maniacal laugh and we can rule the world together.”
“I know, right.” See. No judgment. No condemnation, just total acceptance. “But that’s just it. I make a terrible villain. Villains don’t feel bad about using their powers. Eventually I did.” I lay back down, asking the sky, “Does that make me weak?”
“No,” he said, and after a few beats he added, “It makes you good.”
“It’s not like he’s doing anything all that bad,” I continued. “Guys stare a girls’ boobs all the time. A lot of people get picked on in worse ways. I was picked on before I came here. Girls made fun of my hair. They whispered behind my back when everyone else was going to the beach and pool parties. To the lake. But then, I thought something was wrong with me. I thought I deserved it. Here, there’s nothing wrong with me, and he makes me feel like there is.”
“Who are we talking about?”
“Derrick Nash,” I confided, feeling secure in knowing Sol was stuck out here and couldn’t do anything stupid like assault Derrick the way he’d done to Jax.
“Derrick Nash is still in high school? He must be as dumb as he looks.”
I smiled into the dark and let my head fall to the side. “You’re a good listener.”
“You haven’t given me much of a choice.”
I knew better than to take him serious. He would have asked me to leave if he didn’t want me here. With the sky lightening behind him, he exuded an air of otherworldliness with the ends of his hair swirling like wispy clouds, like the fog he was fond of creating.
“Will you answer one question?”
“Maybe.”
“What did you do for my uncle?”
He was quiet for so long, I thought he might not answer. I thought the sun might rise before he did.
“Nothing I’m proud of.” A few beats of silence passed. “He promised something better. Something more.” He lifted the blunt to his mouth again, his cheeks hollowing under the drag.
“Better than what?”
“That’s two questions,” he said, and somehow I knew that’s all I was going to get.
We fell back into silence. Golden silence filled with anticipation. The stars were starting to dim as if they knew they were about to be outshone.
“Do you love Noah?”
For the first time since I climbed on board, I was reluctant to voice my thoughts, reluctant to be honest. “Yes.”
When the sun finally rose, my chest ached to watch as it peeked over the gray water. As it lifted itself, round and bright, chasing away the dark. It warmed my skin, drying the moisture left from my swim out here.
“I can hear you, you know. When you sing to him, you sing to me too,” he said into the bright light of day.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible to be any more still. My eyes refused to blink. My lungs quit working. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me. “What does that mean?” I asked and braced myself for his answer.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Eleven
After a four-hour shift, I closed the door to the Deep and locked it behind me. The last twenty-four hours had been blessedly uneventful. I worked out with Noah again yesterday after work, but today I just wanted to go home. I was sore. My legs were under full protest. We’d done what felt like thousands of lunges on the beach, and when I tried to come down the stairs this morning, I contemplated throwing myself down. It seemed easier than walking. Swimming didn’t help much, so I’d ridden my bike to work in an effort to loosen my tight muscles, and it worked for a while.
I was about to cross the sidewalk to unlock my bike when I saw my dad through the window of Rendezvous, a new restaurant noted for their wine selection and decadent desserts. We talked about trying it several times but hadn’t gotten around to it. I stepped through the entrance, curious more than anything. I hadn’t even known he was back in town. He’d told me he’d be back Saturday, two days from now.
The restaurant boasted a romantic atmosphere. Dim lights. Classical music played softly in the background. Mahogany paneled walls accented with swaths of fabric framed each table. He wasn’t dining alone, which was nothing unusual. He did a lot of business over expensive dinners. But this wasn’t a business dinner. The candles, the bottle of wine I recognized as one of his favorite labels and knew cost hundreds of dollars, created an intimacy that had me pulling up short. I watched them interact. Smiles accompanied light touches. Lingering looks. The obvious heat that flowed between them. The obvious attraction.
“Miss, can I help you?”
I turned my head to the sound of the hostess’s voice, a reluctant pulling away from the scene playing out at the table. She wore a plain black dress with clean lines. Sophisticated. Like the restaurant.
Like the man sitting across from my dad.
/> “Uh, no, I mean yes. That’s my dad.” I waved offhandedly. “I was just going to say hi.”
“Certainly,” she said. “Would you like for me to bring you a menu?”
“No, thanks. That won’t be necessary. I won’t be staying.” Would I? My mind worked over the years, trying to filter out any clue, any hints that might have pointed me toward my dad being gay. Nothing obvious came to mind. But as I watched them together, I realized I’d never seen that particular look on my dad’s face before. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him. Totally at ease with his boyfriend. And there was no denying the man sitting across the table from him was his boyfriend.
I moved toward them, the plush carpet making my progress silent. They were so engrossed in each other they didn’t even see me until I spoke.
“Dad?” My voice cracked. Their conversation stopped abruptly.
My dad looked up, and his smile slowly faded. His hand retreated back to his side of the table. His stunned expression quickly fell into one of quiet resignation. That look that screamed busted. I knew the feeling. I’d lived through it a few times. I almost laughed.
“Caris,” he said, dabbing at nothing on his lip with his cloth napkin. “This is…” His gaze traveled across the table. “This is Thomas.”
Thomas was an attractive man, hot by most women’s standards, with his perfectly wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. Even in the dim light, I could tell he was younger than my dad by a few years at least. Lean and well built, deserving of a second look. Weirdly, I was impressed.
“Caris, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Thomas rose from his seat and took my hand, embracing it with gentle warmth. “Patrick has told me so much about you, I feel I know you already.” His expression blanched slightly, as though he’d just realized what he said. He knew about me, but I knew absolutely nothing about him. It was painfully obvious there were many things about my dad I didn’t know. My dad, gay? I wanted to say it all made sort of a weird sense, but it didn’t. Why would he feel the need to hide this from me?
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