by Stacey Jay
“He’s not going to stop until someone is hurt,” I say. “Maybe even dead. Trust me, the world will be a safer place without Dylan Stroud.”
“Is that why you have a paint knife in your pocket?”
“How did you—”
“Is it?”
I hesitate. “Maybe.”
“Mermaid. You are …”
“Crazy?”
“The persona más temerosa—the fiercest person I’ve ever met.” His hand grips mine tighter. “I get what you’re saying, and why you’re afraid, but I promise you he’s not worth it. Even thinking about something like that … It won’t make the world better. It’ll only make you worse. Believe me.”
I shiver but don’t pull my cheek from his chest. There’s something in his voice, something that reminds me of the way he promised he was good at keeping secrets. “How do you know?”
It’s his turn to hesitate. “I’ve never told anyone.”
“I’m not anyone.”
“No, you’re not,” he whispers, the love in his voice tearing me apart and putting me back together at the same time.
“So tell me.”
“I … My brother …” He hugs me and sighs. “Remember I told you about that cigarette burn I got when I was a kid?”
“Yes.”
“My stepdad, Ray, did that. One afternoon my mom was working late and I was running through the house. I crashed into the table near his chair. The ashtray was overflowing and when it fell it made a big mess. Ray got so angry, so fast, and he just … did it. Without even thinking. Just jabbed it at my arm.” He pauses. “I actually think he felt bad after, when I started crying, but …”
I don’t say anything, just hold him and listen. There’s nothing to say that hasn’t been said a thousand times before, nothing that can come close to expressing how sorry I am.
“Victor was there and saw him do it. I was only five. Victor was eleven. He pulled me away from Ray, ran to the bathroom, and locked us inside. Ray banged on the door and yelled at us for a while—about how we’d better not tell Mom what happened and how it was my fault and on and on. We sat in there for hours, with my arm under the cold water, trying not to listen.”
Ben’s muscles bunch ever tighter. “He eventually got drunk and passed out in his chair. Victor peeked out and made sure Ray was asleep. Then he left the bathroom and went into Ray’s closet and got his shotgun. He had it loaded and aimed at Ray’s head before I understood what he was going to do.”
I hold him tighter, wishing I could erase all this pain from his past, give him back the innocence he lost when he wasn’t much more than a baby.
“I started crying and ran over and pushed him. I got there just before the gun went off. The bullet shot into the kitchen and destroyed our microwave. No more corn dogs, not for almost a year,” he says, a note of finality in his tone that leaves me reluctant to ask what happened next.
How did his family get through that? What did his stepfather do to his brother? What did his mother say when she got home? How long were they forced to live with that monster? Had their mother known what a dangerous person she’d set loose in her sons’ lives?
But I don’t ask any of those questions. This is Ben’s story and he’ll tell it his way.
“My mom divorced Ray and didn’t really date anyone after that. Even though she was a total babe when she was young. I mean, obviously I got these looks from somewhere,” he says, and I can tell he’s smiling. “But Victor was never the same. It was like … even though he didn’t shoot Ray, a part of him did. He knew he shouldn’t have picked up that gun and he never forgave himself for it.” He shrugs. “I think that’s why he became a cop. It’s some kind of a test or something. To see if he can carry that gun and only use it if he really has to.”
We’re silent for a long time, listening to the rain pounding on the roof, the wind whipping through the spaces in the wood planks, and the thunder rolling on to destinations farther south. I want to lift my head from his chest and find his mouth with mine, to let him know how much his trust means with a kiss.
But touching Ben anymore is dangerous. Instead, I say the truest thing I can think of. “I love you.”
He laughs beneath his breath. “I like that a lot better than ‘sorry.’ ”
“Me too.” His hand smoothes my back, up and down, slower and slower until I can tell he’s getting close to sleep. “Ben?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for telling me. It helped.”
“You could never hurt anyone anyway, Mermaid.” His lips find my forehead, kissing me softly. “Even if you wanted to.”
Maybe he’s right. I’m not sure I can kill Romeo. I’ve never been able to damage him without feeling horrified by what I’ve done, let alone do anything more serious. But even if I could, I shouldn’t. Ben is right. Nurse is right. Taking a life is an act of darkness, no matter how foul the person, no matter how many awful things he’s done. Even if the Ambassadors are a lie, that is a truth I will cling to.
I’ll just have to find some other way to deal with the threat Romeo poses.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” I whisper into Ben’s neck. “Promise me you won’t be alone with Gemma or Dylan ever again. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
Ben is quiet for a long moment before his breath snuffles out through his crooked nose. He’s asleep. And he snores. Just a little. I smile, treasuring this new thing I’ve learned about the boy I love, praying I’ll be able to learn more. Learn it all.
Maybe I can work out a bargain with Romeo, persuade him that he has to leave this town—or better yet, the state of California—as soon as the spell is complete. Surely he’ll see there’s no point in staying with me. I don’t love him. I never will.
Then you’ll never reclaim a body of your own.
Right. Romeo insists that the spell requires love, and the specters’ words seem to confirm his claim. But maybe he’s wrong … maybe if I can get a closer look at this spell …
I hold tight to Ben, to hope, letting it warm me as the night grows colder and I finally fall asleep in his arms.
The lights come in the middle of the night. Bright lights and loud voices, calling Ben’s and Ariel’s names. My eyes fly open and I sit up, sending a scattering of hay floating into the air. “We’re up here! In the hayloft!” I yell, turning to wake Ben and finding him already sitting up beside me.
“That’s my brother’s voice,” he says.
I hear a woman cry “Thank god” and burst into tears and know Melanie is down there waiting for me as well. This isn’t going to be good. At all. I meet Ben’s eyes and he takes my hand, squeezing tight for a second, sending me strength I feel seep through my skin. A second later, we’re both hurrying toward the ladder. A man’s face appears at the top just before we reach it.
The relief in his expression hits me in the gut. This must be Victor, Ben’s brother. I had no idea he’d be so worried. I knew Melanie would be out of her mind, but Ben and I have been “missing” for less than a night. “We thought you two … we thought—” The man bows his head. I can see his throat working, fighting back tears.
“I’m sorry, Victor,” Ben says, going to his brother, putting a hand on his arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean to worry you. We got trapped out here and our cell phones weren’t working and—”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He climbs the last few steps and pulls Ben into a hug. “I love you, hermanito. You know that, right?”
Ben’s eyes go wide. “You too, bro.”
“Are they okay? Is she really okay?” Melanie’s voice sounds from the ground below, so high and strained it drowns out the murmur of men’s shouts and the electronic fuzz of radios announcing that we’ve been found.
“They’re fine. Not a mark on them,” Victor calls over his shoulder. He pulls away from Ben and reaches a hand in my direction. “I’m Victor, Ben’s brother.”
“Ariel.”
“Marianne says I’m going to love you.”
“You will.” Ben smiles at me. I smile back, trying not to think about the fact that Victor will have to learn to love someone else if I have my way. At least a different body. But I can’t think about that right now. I have to get down there and make sure Melanie knows how sorry I am for worrying her.
“Let’s get out of here. It’s freezing,” Victor says. He starts toward the ladder but stops and turns back to us, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You two have to know something. I hate to tell you, but it’s going to be all over the news tomorrow. It’s the reason we were so worried.”
“What?” Ben asks, fear in his voice. “What happened?”
“Nancy Kjeldgaard was found about six hours ago. In the cemetery on the ridge outside of town. Looked like she’d been held there for a couple days before …”
As soon as the word cemetery is out of his mouth, I know. Romeo has done something. Something awful.
“Before what?” Ben asks.
“She was murdered.”
“Dios mio,” Ben says. “Did you …”
“Yeah. I was there earlier, but I was worried about you, so they let me help with the search.” He clears his throat. “But it was brutal, and some people with experience say it looks like a cult ritual, a ceremonial killing or something. Whoever did it is … I don’t want either of you leaving the house alone, or even thinking about hanging out in deserted places until these sick freaks are caught.”
Ben nods. I do too, my head bobbing up and down as I wait my turn to climb down the ladder and struggle to find a reason why. Why has Romeo killed an innocent old woman? Soul mates come in all shapes, sizes, and ages, but Nancy wasn’t one of our soul mates. I saw her myself, and her aura wasn’t glowing.
So why do this? Even Romeo doesn’t go out of his way to kidnap people or commit elaborate murders just for the hell of it. He’s killed before, but usually impulsively, people who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can’t imagine why he’d do something like this.
I push the dark worries away as I climb down into a barn full of three other policemen, a man in waders with a floodlight, and my borrowed mother. As soon as I step off the ladder, Melanie rushes me, pulling me into her arms.
“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She presses a firm kiss to my hair. “You’re okay, right? You’re—”
“I’m fine, Mom, and I’m so sorry,” I say before she can get another word in. “I found Ben and we started talking and by the time we looked outside the car was under and we weren’t getting any cell service and it wasn’t safe to walk home in the storm because of the lightning and—”
“It’s fine. I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re safe.”
“The car’s underwater.”
“I know, we saw it on the way in, and I thought …” She swallows and smiles through the tears that still stand in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. You’re okay.” She bites her lip. “Did Victor tell you about Nancy?”
“He did.” The tears that rise to my eyes aren’t forced. I only met her for a moment, but Ariel’s memories of Nancy are of a tirelessly good woman. Nancy was extraordinarily kind; she was a gentle soul who has been stolen by evil. Whether Romeo is the evil responsible I mean to discover as soon as possible.
Ben appears at my side and gives Melanie a shy wave. “Hi, Mrs. Dragland. I’m Ben Luna.”
After the slightest pause, Melanie smiles. She isn’t sold, but she’s obviously trying to keep an open mind where the boy I’ve confessed to loving is concerned. “Hello, Ben.” I watch them and a sick feeling swims through my stomach. Why did I say what I said?
I know why. Because I didn’t guess the truth in time, didn’t dare to believe. But now, the last thing I want is for Ben to become any more ingrained in Ariel’s life. I can’t stay in this body. I have to leave, and to keep him safe I need him to leave with me.
The thought makes me shiver as one of the policemen wraps a big blue blanket around my shoulders. What if I find some way to work the spell, but Ben doesn’t realize I’ve left Ariel’s body? What if I’m wrong and he doesn’t see soul-deep? What if this skin—and a nice girl inside it, who will remember him as her new boyfriend—are enough for him?
And what about Ariel? Will she grieve the loss of Ben if he does realize his soul mate has shifted bodies? Will I have made her life worse, when I set out so determined to improve it? What am I doing? How can I—
“Don’t worry,” Ben whispers as we follow the policemen and Melanie to the barn door. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
I turn to look at him. How did he—
“It is.” He reaches out, takes my hand. “I promise.”
I slip my fingers through his, praying he’s right.
TWENTY
The flag at the school flutters at half-mast, waving mournfully in the harsh wind of yet another storm.
Nancy Kjeldgaard wasn’t a head of state, but she served coffee, hot chocolate, pastries, and sandwiches to three generations of Solvang High School students. She listened to their stories and slipped extra treats onto their trays and offered kind words and encouragement when they were needed most. To the kids slumping into school today on the worst Friday most can remember, she was more important than a president. She was someone who loved them.
From my chair in the office waiting area, I can see the flag and the concrete path beneath, watch people on their way in pause beside it and look up, fear and sorrow mixing on their faces. It’s the biggest reaction I’ve seen out of most of them. It makes me wonder what Solvang High School would be like if there were more people like Nancy here.
But at SHS, most of the adults are as disinterested as the students.
Even Mr. Stark seems more bored than angry to be starting his day with a disciplinary meeting. He sits in the principal’s office with Mrs. Felix, awaiting the arrival of the superintendent, nursing an extra-large coffee and staring blindly out the window. Mrs. Felix answers an endless stream of phone calls, not bothering to stifle her yawns as she assures one parent after another that the campus will be locked down tight during lunch until whoever murdered Nancy Kjeldgaard is caught. But even murder doesn’t seem to arouse her interest. Her finely wrinkled face sags with exhaustion, and her brown eyes remain as dull as dirty pennies.
Melanie is the only adult who seems truly awake. She fidgets next to me, thin fingers laced together, her hands resting on one bouncing knee. We’re fifteen minutes early. Ben and his brother have yet to show and there’s no sign of Dylan or Gemma.
I wonder if Romeo will even bother. If he killed Nancy, there has to be some reason. I know she wasn’t a soul mate, but …
Another horrible thought drifted through my mind as I lay awake for the few hours left in the night by the time Melanie and I arrived home: What if Romeo found a way to work the spell to reclaim his body alone? What if Nancy was a blood sacrifice for some dark ritual? What if Romeo achieved his goal without me and is now free to roam the earth in his own body? What will I do if my chance has passed me by?
I try not to jog my heels, almost grateful when Gemma arrives, giving me something else to focus on. She breezes into the waiting room in a black turtleneck and black jeans, the diamond chandelier earrings dangling from her ears the only break in her mourning gear. She sighs and claims a seat on the opposite side of the room.
Melanie makes a humphing sound but doesn’t dignify Gemma’s arrival with a greeting. I don’t either. I narrow my eyes, letting her see the fight in me. Last night, on the way back to town, Ben told his brother and Melanie that Gemma almost ran me over. Melanie was livid and insisted we press charges.
Ben and I have a date to give our statements at the police station Saturday morning. I don’t think it will result in any real punishment for Gemma, but I want her to know she isn’t getting off the hook. Melanie called Gemma’s mother this morning and warned her to expect a call from the police about Gemma’s “dangerous and insane behavior.” Her mother threatened a la
wsuit and hung up.
Gemma, however, seems unperturbed. She ignores Melanie’s grunt and my glare and stares at the ceiling, her aura blazing crimson, sipping orange juice as if her conscience is blissfully clear. Her gaze doesn’t waver until Mike walks in, and then she offers him only the barest nod. He nods back, lifts a nervous hand in my direction, and claims a seat a careful distance from both of us.
I give him a hard look, wondering if he had anything to do with Nancy’s death, but the suspicion vanishes before it can fully form. Suddenly the truth is as clear and bright as the fluorescent lights glaring down on the waiting room. Mike isn’t the Mercenary working with Romeo; he’s a man in love. True love.
My eyes widen as I home in on his chest, on the rosy glow that certainly isn’t coming from his black polo shirt. Holy … crap. There it is. Not quite as bright as it should be, but it’s definitely there, the telltale glimmer of a soul mate.
Why didn’t I see it before? Why didn’t I guess?
Because I haven’t seen him in the light. Mike has his break during my English class. I’ve only seen him after school, in the shadowed wings of the theater. The backstage lights aren’t on during rehearsal, and the stage lights aren’t bright enough to illuminate someone standing outside the action. Then yesterday, when we were outside, it was dark under the awnings covering the walkway. Still, I should have seen it. I would have if I’d been focused.
Every word he’d said yesterday had been a dead giveaway.
I don’t know what you’ve heard. Did you tell Ben? If you tell …
I close my eyes, feeling like a fool. Mike’s hand on Gemma’s back, the way he stood up for her at rehearsal, their shared laughter as they put away the props, her talking about his “hotness” that night at my house—it makes sense now. Ben said Gemma had another “friend” she was unwilling to name, probably because a relationship with him is forbidden. Mike can’t be more than twenty-two and Gemma’s eighteen and legally an adult, but he’s still a student teacher at this school and she a student. He’ll be in a big hairy mess of trouble if they’re found out.