Heroine's Journey

by Sarah Kuhn

I whipped back and forth, scanning the room. I needed someone rotten, someone who had done bad things, a dark force . . .

  My eyes landed on the pink couch again, on Leah snuggling Pancake to her chest, murmuring words of comfort in his ear. And on the figure who was now sitting next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder: a beige, blah, thoroughly annoying figure who was moving in on my best friend and was going to hurt her like she’d hurt me . . .

  It was as if the rest of the room fell away. My vision narrowed as I shook Evie off and strode forward. Everything around me was nothing more than an inconsequential burble, drowned out by that shattered part inside of me, that part that felt like it would never, ever heal.

  I reached the couch and held out my hand to my nemesis, Nicole Yamamoto.

  When you find them, take their hand. Compel them to go with you. The rest will come.

  I’ll come with you, I thought at her. Wherever you want to go.

  “Bebe?” Leah said, but she was lost in the burble, in the pain screaming through my soul.

  Nicole turned to me. “I’ll come with you,” she said, her eyes glazing over. “Wherever you want to go.”

  As soon as her hand clasped mine, the familiar roaring, that plane landing sound, rose up in my ears and I saw that blurry haze appear in front of me. A stab of triumph pierced my pain. Yes. This was it.

  Nicole stood, and I dragged her behind me, focused on the portal. Mom had said to trust my gut and that’s what I’d done. Now I was going to free her from a fucking demon prison and protect everyone else in the city, and finally I’d have accomplished what I was always meant to do—

  “Bebe.”

  Leah stepped in front of me, Pancake clutched under her arm. Her presence disrupted the about-to-be triumph I was so firmly focused on and forced my mind to hear something other than the pain and determination overwhelming me.

  “Lee,” I hissed, my grip tightening on Nicole’s hand. “Get out of my way.”

  “No,” she said, planting a hand on one hip and shifting Pancake so he was propped on the other.

  “You don’t even know what I’m doing,” I growled. “Look, I’ll explain later—”

  “You’re mind-controlling Nikki and . . . and trying to take her somewhere. I don’t know the rest of it exactly, but it has something to do with the Otherworld.”

  “What . . .” I shook my head, not wanting to admit how close to right she was. “Since when is it Nikki?!” She just stared back at me, unwavering. “Look,” I continued. “I can’t tell you everything right now, but she has some kind of ‘dark spirit’ thing going on. Mom told me I’d feel it in my gut, and I absolutely one-hundred percent fucking feel it—and that means, yes, I have to take her to the Otherworld, trap her there so she can’t hurt anyone. She’s not a good person. She will hurt you, Lee, and I can’t bear that. You deserve so much more than that, someone who will care for you deeply, someone who won’t stomp all over your heart the first chance she gets. And anyway, this has to happen so the entire city won’t be imprisoned the way Mom is. You have to trust me that this is for the greater good all around. This is part of my code—”

  “No, it’s not,” Leah roared, her eyes flashing. Pancake barked in affirmation. “Honestly, Bebe, your code is fucked right now. You’ve been pushing the boundaries of what you know is right ever since your powers started expanding or growing or whatever it is they’ve been doing. You want your mother back so badly, you want to prove yourself as a hero so you won’t feel so broken, and it’s blinded you to what’s right and what’s wrong. If you trap Nikki in the fucking Otherworld, you’ll have crossed every boundary.” She stepped forward and put a hand on my arm. “You say you care about me not being hurt. I care about you not being hurt, too.”

  “Then get out of my way,” I said. “Because I’m hurting now more than I’ve ever hurt before. And this—” I gestured to Nicole, who gazed at me with glassy eyes. “—will fix it. It will fix everything.”

  “No.” Leah squeezed my arm. “You’ll be sacrificing someone innocent. You say it’s to save all of San Francisco, but it’s actually just for you.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “It is to save people. My mother told me this is the only way.”

  “Your mother’s wrong,” Leah pressed. “And if you do this, you’ll hurt forever. You’ll never come back from it. I know you.”

  Tears pricked my eyes and I tried to retort, but the words clogged in my throat. Push her aside, a vicious little part of my brain hissed. She’ll understand later, just get this done. Get it fucking done and everything will be better.

  I squared my shoulders, tightened my grip on Nicole’s hand, and shook Leah off. Then I charged forward, shoving her to the side as gently as I could manage, my eyes glued to the blurry spot in front of me. My body tensed as I geared up to make the leap, to pull Nicole with me, to finally free my mother once and for all—

  I leaped through the air.

  “No!” I heard Leah scream. Pancake barked, loud and urgent, and I heard him scrabbling around on the floor. My body jerked mid-air, distracted by the sound. It was enough to fuck up my grand leap. I landed unceremoniously on my ass, Nicole falling into a tangled pile with me.

  “What?!” I yelped. I scanned the air wildly. The blurry spot was gone. My opening was gone. My way back to my mother was gone.

  “Bea.” Evie spun me around, her hands on my shoulders, her eyes wide with confusion. “What the hell is going on? What are you doing?”

  I was vaguely aware of Leah helping Nicole up behind me, asking if she was okay.

  “I need to get Mom,” I said, my eyes still scanning the air. Where was that damn blurry spot? “I need to . . .”

  “I think you need to explain some things to me first,” Evie said, her grip tightening on my shoulders.

  “No,” I said, shaking her off. I glowered at her. “I’ll figure this out myself. I’ll save her—and this whole damn city—myself.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Evie said. Her face had gone from pale to flushed to uncomfortably mottled. Anger sparked in her eyes. “You need to stop throwing whatever tantrum you’re throwing, and tell me what’s going on.”

  “Evie!” Aveda strode up to us. Her face was concerned and her voice was smooth and placating. “Let’s all just calm down for a minute. Maybe go back to HQ? Then we can have a nice, civilized discussion—”

  “No,” Evie snapped. “Just . . . don’t, Annie. Nate’s trying to manage me enough right now, I don’t need it from you, too.”

  “We’re both worried about you,” Aveda said, laying a hand on her arm. “The doctor said you have to watch your blood pressure, both for your sake and for—”

  “Doctor?” I interrupted. “What is she talking about, Evie? Are you sick?”

  Evie shot Aveda a warning look. A shut up look. A look that made me realize exactly what was going on. It was one of those realizations that dawns in a slow, queasy-making way, then speeds up until it’s a rollercoaster of images smashing together, things that suddenly make so much more sense when you figure out they’re part of the same puzzle.

  Evie complaining about “not feeling well” so many times the past few weeks, pushing away her dinner and turning green.

  Evie propped up on my pillows when we were doing Mom research, her eyes fluttering closed, barely able to stay awake.

  Evie grumbling at Nate while he fussed over her, trying to get her to eat something.

  Evie being mysteriously absent from missions, Aveda making weird excuses for her.

  Evie actually listening when Aveda barked at her to stay out of the battle fray.

  “You’re pregnant,” I said.

  She didn’t have to say it out loud. Her face told me everything I needed to know.

  “Bea,” she began. “I was going to tell you, I just—”

  “No,” I said, shaking
my head. “Don’t explain. Don’t . . . do anything.”

  The pain that had been screaming through me quieted to something dull and sickly and sad. My gaze wandered over the room. I saw Leah comforting a dazed-looking Nicole. Aveda stepping forward to comfort Evie—Evie, who felt like she couldn’t share some of the biggest news of her life with me. And no sign of a portal, no way to get Mom back, no way out. I was just standing here in the bookstore, like I’d done so many times before. Being useless. Everyone looking at me like the big fucking disappointment I was.

  All of my emotions drained away, like I was deflating on the spot. I felt so empty. For once, I couldn’t even summon a scrap of hope. There was just nothing.

  I pushed past Evie and ran.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I RAN TO the one person I was pretty sure I hadn’t disappointed yet.

  “Bea,” Sam said, opening his apartment door and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Sorry, were you asleep?” I blurted out, stepping inside. “I mean, of course you were, it’s the middle of the night.”

  “What’s wrong?” he said, his brows drawing together as he reached over to cup my face.

  “I . . .” So many emotions were crashing through me, and I couldn’t get a handle on any of them. All I knew was that there was a deep, dull throb of hopelessness underneath it all. “I saw my mom,” I finally managed. “Also, Evie’s pregnant and didn’t tell me—because no matter what happens between us, I’m always her disappointment of a little sister who can never be trusted. And Leah is into one of the most awful people ever and stopped me from going back to the Otherworld, which would have let me fix everything. But now I can’t fix anything and everyone hates me and I’ll never be anything more than this . . . this sad person. This sad, broken, nothing person—”

  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.

  I didn’t cry. I felt too hopeless even for that. But I held on tight, his warmth enveloping me and making me feel some version of safe. I expected him to start bombarding me with questions about everything I’d just spilled, but he just kept surrounding me with that warmth, his hands stroking through my hair and down my back.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said softly. “That’s so much.”

  For some reason, that made tears spring to my eyes. I turned my face up to his. His eyes searched mine, and I saw no trace of smug, of beaucoup fromage. He just looked like he was trying to figure out some way, any way, to heal me. Before I would have taken that as pity, would have pushed him away and challenged him to . . . I don’t know, a math duel or something. Now I took it as confirmation of something I’d absorbed about him these past couple weeks: that his empathy ran deeper than anyone gave him credit for, that he was stronger than anyone knew. That I’d underestimated him the way so many people underestimated me.

  I kissed him. He made that surprised growl in the back of his throat, the one that got under my skin and set all of my nerve endings on fire. Then he pulled me closer, his hands tangling in my hair, his tongue sliding over mine. He was clad only in boxers, which he must have thrown on hastily before answering the door, and I reveled in pressing against so much of his delicious bare skin. I ran my hands over his chest, thrilling in the goosebumps appearing beneath my fingertips.

  “Bea,” he said breathlessly, breaking the kiss. He cupped my face and stroked a thumb down my cheek, his eyes full of a million questions. “Do you need to talk or do you want me to go with you back to HQ so you can talk to Evie or . . . just tell me what you need.”

  I leaned into his palm, luxuriating in his touch and the warmth surrounding me. “I need to feel . . . this.” I gestured between us and pressed a hand to his chest. “Just this. Just for a little while. Please.”

  He didn’t ask any more questions. Just pulled me into another kiss that made my head spin. I pushed him back toward the couch and he sat down, pulling me with him. I straddled him at the waist, my hands stroking his chest, his arms, his broad, gorgeous shoulders. He slid the strap of my dress down my shoulder and nibbled at my collarbone. As usual he took his time, tasted every inch of my skin. Then he moved lower, stroking the lace of my bra out of the way with his thumb so he could slip my nipple into his mouth.

  I shivered, losing myself in the sensation. The wet heat of his tongue, the pure beauty of his mouth bringing me so much pleasure. I loved the way he always looked like he relished tasting me, like he couldn’t get enough. Like it was his favorite thing in the whole goddamn world.

  I trailed my fingertips down his chest, skimmed over his abs, and then reached lower to free him of his boxers. He stroked my thighs, pushing my skirt up, every touch making my blood fizz with pleasure. We managed to find a condom in the side table next to the couch. I helped him get my panties off, and then I was rolling the condom on and guiding myself onto him, my hands on his shoulders. He gripped my hip and thrust upward, and we both gasped, our eyes meeting.

  “Bea,” he said, holding himself there.

  “Sam,” I whispered back.

  I realized then that we were in the same position we’d been in that night we’d first kissed: on the couch, me straddling him, our eyes locked. That night, we’d said each other’s names like we’d both just made a huge mistake. But tonight was different. And as we started to move, as he gazed at me with a wonder that brought tears to my eyes again, I figured out why.

  I’d broken the one promise I’d made. The promise to never fall in love with him.

  Just another thing I’d managed to totally fuck up.

  * * *

  Afterward, we lay in a tangle on the couch. Sam pulled a fuzzy blanket cocoon around us and fell asleep, his arm locked around me. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

  “Sam,” I whispered after a while. “Are you awake?”

  His breathing remained deep and even.

  “Okay, good,” I said. “I need to tell you something, and I can only tell you if you’re asleep.” I closed my eyes and made my voice even softer. “I love you. I don’t know how it happened. I totally broke that promise I made, and it’s almost like you knew I was going to break it, like you knew . . .” My voice faltered, and I squeezed my eyes shut more tightly, trying to hold back tears. “. . . you knew there was no way I could get bored with you. That I’d only want more of you. There’s so much to you under all that swag. You’re so passionate about the things you care about. More sensitive than people think you are. You make me feel so . . . seen. Beautiful. Treasured. And you make me feel like I actually deserve for someone to see me that way.” I opened my eyes and let the tears trickle down my cheeks. “That day at the bookstore, when you so clearly saw how scared I am of being abandoned . . . I think one of the reasons I always conveniently ‘get bored’ with the people I date is . . . deep down, I’m afraid they’ll leave me. So I leave first—and the truth is, it’s not always as drama-free as I like to say it is. That’s just another lie I tell myself so I don’t have to deal with feelings—theirs or mine. And I usually manage to leave before I get to know them too well. But with you, it’s like we said. I already knew you. I never stood a chance.” I swiped away the tears and swallowed hard. “I can’t bear to tell you all of this and then have you try to make me feel better by pretending you feel the same way. That’s what I think you’d do. And that’s worse than pity.” I pressed my face against his neck. “I love you,” I whispered again. “Bea: Zero, Sam: Infinity. You win this ridiculous battle we’ve been having forever.”

  His breathing remained deep as I disentangled myself, tucked the blanket more snugly around him, and got dressed. He didn’t even stir as I let myself out. It was still the middle of the night, and I caught the all-night bus home. No one was awake when I crept into HQ, and I made it to my room without incident. So there was one whole thing that had gone right in the last twenty-four hours.

  I fell onto my bed and stared at Leah’s painting o
n my wall, that wild, beautiful mermaid. Leah probably hated me. And I couldn’t really blame her. Nicole was awful, she was my nemesis, but was she really a “dark force”? Had I really felt that, or had I just convinced myself it could be true because I wanted my mother back so badly?

  My gaze fell on my bedside table and a sparkly, purple folder caught my eye. Oh, right: the report Nate had asked me to look at the night Evie and I had our most recent fight. It was another meticulously documented interview by Nate’s friend Kai with the most recent near-drowning victim: the third person who had no memory of how they’d ended up in the water. I’d read it the day after Nate had given it to me, but hadn’t really picked up on anything new. And I’d exchanged a few emails with Kai discussing the incidents, but that had kind of been the end of it.

  For some reason, I found myself opening the folder, paging through, skimming the document again. This particular survivor’s account was vivid, harrowing. I’d been transfixed when I’d read it the first time, and I was just as transfixed now. I read through the whole thing again.

  And then, as I reached the end, I gasped out loud.

  Oh, fucking frakballs. How had I not seen it before?

  I set the report aside and grabbed a notebook and pen from my bedside table. I started to scribble, my mind working overtime. Finally, the pieces were starting to come together. And the picture they were painting was more fucked up than I could have imagined.

  TRANSCRIPT

  Interview with Carmelo Cruz

  Conducted by: Dr. Kai Alana

  This interview is part of an investigative study of the recent near drownings in Makena Beach State Park. Mr. Cruz is the third individual to report an incident of this kind; he was rescued by an off-duty lifeguard out for a morning run and sustained no severe injuries.

  DR. KAI ALANA: Can you tell me what you remember from right before the incident? What were you doing?

  CARMELO CRUZ: I was walking on the beach, picking up seashells. I found a few of those long, twisty ones; a bunch of clamshells; and a few broken sand dollars. But I left those, because I have a shit-ton of sand dollars already.