Chloe swatted her sister's hands from my hair. “She's got cute freckles. Don't be mean to Zara. She doesn't understand that's how we show affection for each other.”
Charlize replied, “I'm just teasing. You both know how much I love to joke around. You can't take anything I say seriously.”
Chloe looked me in the eyes through the mirror. “It's true. Charlize was always causing trouble growing up, and she got away with it by making up something even more outlandish. She could have gotten away with murder. Our poor parents were outmatched and outnumbered.”
At the mention of their parents, Charlize's smoky gray eyes lit up. She struck one finger in the air and gasped. “I know! Chessa has a blond wig here, from when Mom was getting her chemo treatments. I'll get the wig, plus some makeup, and we can give Zara a triplets makeover.” And with that declaration, she left me alone with Chloe in the living room.
“Sure, I'll let you guys give me a makeover,” I said to the empty air where Charlize had been sitting.
Chloe laughed. “You're a good egg, Zara.”
I gave her a sweet smile. “I'm trying. How about you? Have you thought of what Chessa might have meant, about you knowing something about why she was behaving strangely before her accident.”
“What?” Chloe blinked rapidly. “How should I know what she meant? People attempt suicide all the time. It's not anybody's fault.”
“You don't think it was an accident?”
Chloe emptied the bottle into her glass. “I don't know what to think. Out of the three of us, Chessa was always the most emotional. She could be moody, always yelling at us to leave her alone and let her think. Charlize and I never liked it when she was too quiet, though. It seemed like she was up to something.”
“She was the odd one out. Different powers.” I paused. “Similar but different.”
Chloe sipped the wine. “I can't tell you what she was,” she said meekly. “Chessa made us swear to never tell. I swore on my life. I've hurt her before, but I can't let her down again.”
“Again?”
Chloe's expression twitched to fear before she masked it. “Just sister stuff, over the years,” she said breezily. “There was always one thing or another going on with the three of us.” She looked into my eyes. “But I loved my sister, and I never meant to hurt her. If I'd known how much she was suffering, I would have put a stop to it.”
“A stop to what?” There was a roar in my ears, like a storm on the ocean.
Chloe sipped her wine. “I don't know,” she said, gazing across the cozy room at the photographs on the fireplace mantel. “Chessa hasn't been the same since our mother passed away. It was very difficult for her.”
I followed her gaze to a framed photo of the triplets' mother.
Chessa's memories rushed in, of her mother smiling sweetly from the hospital bed. The frail woman had told her daughters they had to be even braver now that they were on their own. I saw her gaunt face, brightened by the application of lipstick and a vibrant orange scarf around her head. The triplets' father had already been gone for five years, killed in a highway accident. They hadn't said good-bye to him, but they'd exchanged final farewells with their beloved mother every night for twenty-seven days.
My jaw ached, and my eyes stung. “Twenty-seven days,” I murmured.
“Chessa shared that with you,” Chloe said, blinking rapidly.
I held my hands over my heart. “I feel what she feels. That you're my sister, and Charlize is my sister, too.”
Chloe rubbed at the corner of her eye and looked down. “Lucky us,” she said with a chuckle.
Her sister could be heard rummaging in the bedroom for the wig, while narrating her findings in a singsong voice.
“Charlize can be annoying,” Chloe said. “But sisters are a chunk of your childhood that can never be lost.”
I nodded. “And when sisters stand shoulder to shoulder, nobody else stands a chance.”
Chloe gazed at me, her expression soft yet strong. “Chessa used to say that as our rallying cry. And then Charlize would say if one of us ever faltered, she'd be there to pick us up, just as soon as she stopped laughing.”
“That's Charlize for you,” I said.
Charlize returned to the living room with a blond wig and a tackle box full of makeup.
I playfully tried to escape the makeover, but Charlize caught me around the waist. She was strong, with a grip like a vise.
She waved the blond wig in the air with her free hand. “Don't fight us, Zara. This is happening! We're turning you into one of us.”
“Snakes,” I said. “We're going to need a lot more snakes.”
Chloe laughed so hard, she snorted like a pig, and soon all three of us were pig-snorting like maniacs.
* * *
Sunday morning, I woke up feeling overdressed. I was in a bed, wearing a strapless pink gown with matching satin pump shoes.
I was in Chessa's pure-white beach-themed bedroom, and I wasn't alone. On one side of me lay Chloe, snoring away in a white wedding dress. On the other side was Charlize, wearing a half-unzipped strapless gown identical to mine.
The last thing I remembered, after the tequila shots, was the three of us trying to recreate one of Chloe and Jordan's wedding photos.
I shuffled down to the bottom of the bed without disturbing the girls, kicked off my pink shoes, and padded silently to the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror was a shock. The wig had stayed on through the night, along with a liberal application of makeup. The mirror reflected back a blond stranger, possibly a prom queen who'd just fought off a horde of zombies.
Coolness washed over me, and my face changed.
Now I was staring at Chessa in the mirror, her ghostly face overlaying my own.
She looked down at the pink dress with a confused expression.
“Chessa, I know it's strange, but I'm only wearing your bridesmaid dress so I can help you.”
The mouth in the mirror didn't move. She stood before me in stony silence. This was the closest we'd come so far to a face-to-face conversation. As much as one part of me wanted to scream ghost and run from the bathroom, I was going to stay and make the most of this opportunity.
“Your sisters are incredible women,” I said, gushing. “Things have been rocky with me and Chloe, and I can't say it was much better with Charlize, but they've both grown on me. As you might know, I grew up an only child. I try not to get hung up on feeling bitter about the things I didn't have, but deep down, I've always longed for a sister. And you have two. Two hilarious, daffy, loving sisters.” I moved my hand to my heart. The reflection hesitated, then moved her hand there as well. I saw a positive response in her eyes. She loved her sisters. She would have done anything for them, given them anything, given them pieces of her if they asked, and sometimes they did.
“I feel what you feel,” I told her. “I'm trying to get you back into your body and awake, but in the meantime...” This part was hard to put into words, but I'd been thinking about it, mentally rehearsing a speech I'd give the woman if I could.
She waited patiently, not moving, but rippling slightly, as though underwater.
“In the meantime, I propose we share everything,” I said. “You can be in my body and speak through me when you wish, and I can enjoy the company of the sisters I've always wanted. I don't know the best way to work things out with Chet, but I'm willing to try. Maybe there's a spell I can cast, so that I can disappear and leave you two some privacy.” I shook my head and looked down at the tile floor, ashamed by my eagerness. How had this speech sounded reasonable to me the night before? The woman had one foot in the grave, and here I was offering to take over her life, all while acting like I was doing her a favor.
“Never mind,” I said. “Forget I said anything. Do you have any ideas for how to get yourself awake again?” I looked up at her stony face, so cool it was nearly blue. “You do know you're not dead, right? That your body is in a coma?”
She nodded.
<
br /> “And do you want to come back to the land of the living?”
She nodded again.
I crossed my arms, and she did the same. Her pink bridesmaid dress was pristine and unwrinkled, unlike mine.
“Then you've got to work with me,” I said, exasperated. “I'm willing to do anything, if you'll just give me a hint.”
The reflection uncrossed her arms and pointed.
I whirled around. There was nothing behind me except for the shower curtain, drawn across the opening of the shower.
My sense of hearing assured me I was alone in the bathroom, but my body thought otherwise. My chest pounded as adrenaline coursed through my veins. I reached out toward the crisp white shower curtain, and very slowly drew it aside.
Monsters!
No.
Nothing but tiles.
Nobody was standing or sitting inside the tub. I saw only bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a natural sea sponge loofah, and a notepad affixed to the tiled wall. I stepped inside the shower and sniffed the loofah. It hadn't been used in a year, and was dusty. Other than that, the loofah looked completely ordinary. I examined the notepad next. It was designed for use in the shower, made with waterproof paper. There was a magnet, presumably to hold the matching pen, but the pen was gone.
I looked over at the mirror to see if Chessa was there to give me a hint. Was I getting any warmer?
All I saw reflected back was me, wearing a blond wig, with enough layers of makeup spackled onto my face to hide my freckles and give me an eerily unnatural tan.
“What am I missing?”
She was gone, back to the watery depths in which she spent her time when she wasn't delivering daydreams or cryptic messages.
I held up the notepad to the light. It reminded me of all those old detective movies, where the clever private investigator would use a pencil to lightly shade over a notepad, revealing what had been written on the previous sheet.
I heard noises. Outside of the bathroom, Chloe and Charlize were stirring from bed and grumbling over which one was going to make the first pot of coffee.
I tucked the waterproof notepad into a drawer in the bathroom vanity. I slipped out of the wig and the pink bridesmaid dress, turned on the shower, and climbed in. I was close. So close. I needed water.
Sometimes, when a breakthrough is just beyond your understanding, all it takes is a hot shower. The mind works best under suds and steam, with the white noise of splashing water drowning out distractions. In the shower, under the water, I could finally think.
And, as I squeezed the viscous body wash onto the loofah, the answer came to me.
I knew what to do next. And, if it didn't kill me, maybe it would bring back Chessa.
Chapter 30
TWELVE HOURS LATER
As the sun was setting on Sunday evening, I walked up to Chloe and Jordan Taub's front door. The summer-evening air was fragrant with lilac, jasmine, and charcoal smoke from backyard barbecues. Somewhere down the quaint residential street, a lawnmower ceased cutting, its sharp blades dormant while the operator pushed it, wheels squeaking, back into a shed. All was quiet. A screen door banged, and a mother called her children in for bed.
On the Taubs' front porch, I patted the book in the pocket of my cardigan. It was ready for battle. And so was I.
I rang the doorbell. Chessa's spirit wasn't with me. I was on my own.
Chloe answered the door and smiled at me sweetly. “Zara! Did you forget something when you left the cottage this morning? You rushed out of there so fast, I didn't get a chance to say good-bye.”
“I had something important to do.”
She looked at my damp, limp hair. After my dive, I'd pulled on my clothes and rushed straight over. The seawater from my hair was now seeping into my shirt.
She exclaimed, “Zara, you're soaking wet!”
“I've been drier, and less prune-like.”
She leaned over to look behind me. I was alone.
By the tightness of her lips, she knew something was up. “What's going on?” She gave me a fake smile. “Should I open another bottle of wine?”
I set my chin. “Contrary to how damp I am, I'm not here for a girly gabfest and wet T-shirt contest.”
She shifted from foot to foot, glancing over her shoulder into the house. “This isn't a good time.”
I took a step forward. “Convenient or not, it's time for the two of us to have a discussion. Alone.”
She didn't move.
“For Chessa,” I said.
Chloe stepped back from the door and invited me in, her voice quivering. Her golden ringlets shifted into snakes—feisty ones that were asking to be taken down a notch or two. I snarled my upper lip back and hissed at them. The gold snakes snapped their mouths shut and wriggled to the far side of Chloe's head, more frightened of me than I was of them.
Her husband called out, “Chloe, who's at the door?”
She answered, “It's just my sister. Go back to your game.”
I raised an eyebrow at being called her sister but didn't comment.
She led me into the house, to the kitchen. The room was tidy and rumbling with the sound of the dishwasher running. I could hear the TV in the den, as well as her husband, Jordan, talking back to the sports announcer. The baby monitor on the counter emitted the soft sound of breathing. It was the picture of domestic bliss here in the Taub residence. The neighbors probably thought they were a normal young family, not a gorgon and heaven knows what else.
We passed through the kitchen. Chloe didn't offer me so much as a glass of water. She led me down a hallway and into a pantry, with walls lined in shelves of baking ingredients and jars of jellies and jams. She closed the door behind her.
She made a hissing sound before asking, “What is it you want? Money? What's left of our cash is tied up in the business.”
“I don't want hush money, Chloe. I just want the truth.”
Her mouth pinched shut, but the hissing continued, thanks to the snake chorus. They were wary of me now, hissing from the safety of the hidden side of Chloe's head. Every few seconds, one snake would peek at me quickly before disappearing.
“The truth?” Chloe was feigning ignorance, but only halfheartedly. She knew that I knew. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her hissing. Guilt. She was consumed by guilt.
I asked her a question I already knew the answer to. “Whom does Jordan Junior belong to?”
She blinked rapidly. “My son? He's Jordan's. I've never been unfaithful. Never.”
I looked her straight in the eyes and squared my shoulders. “Who's the mother?”
She stepped back, pressing the back of her head against the door, which did nothing to calm down her snakes.
“I gave birth to him,” she said, rubbing her hands over her belly as she spoke. “Jordan was there with me, at the hospital. Chet was in the waiting room.”
“Did you know your sister kept a diary?”
“Where?” Her eyes widened. “Did you find it? We looked everywhere.”
“I'll tell you where I found the diary if you tell me what kind of creature your sister is. I know that you know.”
Her eyes flicked down, then up, then back at me. “You don't know,” she said. The snakes hissed louder.
“Take the deal,” I said. “I came to you first. Don't make me regret my choice.”
“Fine,” she spat. “You first.”
I crossed my arms and strolled over to the far side of the room. The pantry was also a laundry room. My legs were numb from the diving. I tried not to let my fatigue show on my face as I casually took a seat on top of the washing machine.
“No. You first,” I said. “Tell me what she is.”
Chloe began walking toward me, her eyes like mercury. “My sister is like no beast who has ever walked the earth or swum the sea,” she whispered. “To catch a glimpse of my sister in her mythical form is to turn your mind inside out. To look upon her fully for even a moment is to invite madness into your so
ul. You will die trying to break your head open, trying to get her out.”
I sucked in air between my teeth. “So, she's not a mermaid.”
Chloe stopped in front of me and grinned as she whispered, “She's not a mermaid. Not a selkie. And not a melusine, though she would have loved to have been one of those, half serpent and still half human. She longed to keep some of her humanity in her changed form.” Chloe shook her head, snakes twirling dizzily. “My sister, the monster.” She let out a bitter laugh. “And to think, everyone says Charlize is the worst.”
I tilted my head and bit my tongue.
“Now, give it to me,” she hissed. “Give me the journal.” She grabbed for the pockets of my cardigan.
Her fingers grazed my forearms, stinging my skin. I looked down in horror as patches of my flesh turned as gray and stony as Fuzzy the Unlucky Hornet. Terror crept up my spine, and then calm. I pushed out, and my stony flesh sizzled as it turned back to flesh.
“Back off,” I growled.
Chloe kept grabbing for my pocket, so I hit her with a taste of blue lightning. Just a small fireball. It was my fire, my power, and I had more control over it now.
She lurched backward, windmilling clumsily. The blast had been more than just a taste, after all.
I jumped off the washing machine and caught her before she fell.
She went limp in my arms. She began sobbing, burying her face in my chest. “I didn't mean to hurt her,” she cried. “I didn't know the fertility treatments would make her suicidal.”
“They didn't,” I said.
She sniffed and looked up at me. “You mean, you didn't find her suicide note?”
“Just her journal,” I said.
“That's all?”
Now it was my turn to laugh ruefully. “That's all? Let me tell you, it was no picnic to retrieve.”
She pulled away from me, wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt, and gestured for me to explain.
And I did. I told her how I'd been feeling a pull toward the ocean, ever since visiting Chessa's home. Every time I talked about her, walked in her footsteps, we'd grown closer. I'd gotten a small taste of her powers during my first swim in the ocean, but then I hadn't been able to access her powers to shift again.
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