Through Fire & Sea

by Nicole Luiken

  Jen hesitated before unzipping the last bag. “This gown was designed for someone else, but she turned it down.”

  Holly wondered why. The gown was a beautiful, vivid purple, a slender tube with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a sweetheart neckline.

  Holly tried it on and fell in love with it. It was elegant yet had a sexy slit up the side. It hinted at cleavage without making her afraid anything would fall out. With her hair up—

  Her stomach clenched when she realized she was looking at her reflection. She quickly averted her eyes, but Leah didn’t pounce. Perhaps her otherself had meant her promise not to take over again.

  Yeah, right. Leah was probably sleeping.

  Once the dress decision was made, Jen picked out black Manolo Blahnik pumps and a purple clutch, then started on jewels.

  “I don’t need a necklace,” Holly protested. The idea of two hundred grand hanging around her neck freaked her out.

  “You’re not planning to wear that to the premiere, are you?” Qeturah touched Holly’s pearl necklace. “I know my son gave it to you, but, well, it’s not very pretty. Give it to me, and we’ll find you something nicer.”

  “No.” Holly cupped her hand over the pearl.

  Unfortunately, Jen took Qeturah’s side, claiming the dress designer would kill Jen if Holly wore something of such low quality. Holly let herself be talked into amethyst teardrop earrings but refused the matching necklace.

  Qeturah tried it on. She truly did have a weakness for shiny things—which gave Holly an idea.

  At the restaurant that night, Holly waited for her chance. It came when Qeturah and Ryan happened to excuse themselves to the washroom within minutes of each other. Her dad immediately started checking his phone messages. Holly asked casually, “Do you think Nimue would mind if I borrowed some lip gloss?”

  Her dad handed over Qeturah’s purse without a thought, not even glancing up.

  Holly set the purse on the seat beside her out of his line of sight and rummaged through the usual jumble: wallet, lip gloss, tissues, keys, a condom—gross!—four business cards, a Taser, and, ding-ding, a velvet pouch with three power rings inside. She pocketed one before using the lip gloss and handing the purse back to her dad.

  Once Qeturah returned to their table, Holly turned the conversation to the jewels the stylist had provided. “I love the earrings, and guess what? Nimue lent me one of her rings to match.” She slid the stolen ring onto her finger—was it her imagination or did the ring vibrate?—then showed it to Ryan. “Isn’t it lovely?”

  Qeturah’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t dispute Holly’s word.

  Playing a spoiled brat was fun. Plus it ought to establish that Holly wasn’t Leah. Holly felt quite pleased with herself.

  …

  Qeturah took her revenge on the day of the premiere.

  When the stylists finally released Holly, she went to grab her pearl necklace so she could wear it after the photos were taken, only to find her jewelry box standing empty.

  She knew instantly that Qeturah had stolen it. Furious, Holly clattered down the stairs. As soon as she found Qeturah, she would—

  The sight of Ryan in his tuxedo stopped Holly on the landing. She stared, all thoughts of Qeturah wiped away.

  His custom-fitted suit jacket showed off his swimmer’s physique, while the stark charcoal black made his cheekbones and jawline look chiseled. The stylist had arranged his hair in the same sexy just-got-out-of-bed style as Cody but had left in the blue undertone Holly loved.

  He stole her breath.

  For a second, Holly wondered how anyone so perfect could want to date her, but just then Ryan lifted his head and smiled. His midnight-blue eyes ignited, as if he’d been waiting for this moment, for her…

  Holly floated the rest of the way down the stairs in her designer dress, her makeup flawless, her hair up in a complicated cascade of curls, feeling glamourous.

  Ryan took her hand. “You look…” His warm gaze traveled over her whole length. “…beautiful.”

  Her skin heated as he angled his head in for a kiss.

  Qeturah’s voice intruded. “Don’t ruin her makeup, Ryan, dear. It took the poor man ages to get her looking like that.”

  Holly gritted her teeth at the insult. “Nimue. You look…dramatic.” Wings of bronze eye shadow extended an inch past Qeturah’s green eyes. Together with her dark red lipstick and gold lamé dress, she looked like an aging diva.

  Holly had to suffer Qeturah’s presence in the back of the limo, but her dad and Ryan’s high spirits soon lifted her own.

  “Shall we let the youngsters go first?” her dad asked, as the limo stopped in front of the Chinese Theatre.

  “By all means.” Qeturah caressed his shoulder.

  Her dad looked disgustingly besotted. Whatever Leah had done to his photo clearly hadn’t been enough.

  Ryan exited first, then held out his hand to Holly while cameras flashed.

  She stepped onto the red carpet—and froze under the focus of so many eyes. It felt like being onstage again.

  “Just look at me,” Ryan told her in a low, velvet voice. “You don’t have to talk to anyone but me.”

  The warmth in his expression gave her the confidence to move forward, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm.

  “We love you, Cody!” a girl shouted from the roped-off area.

  Ryan waved. Smiling at the crowd and the press, he escorted Holly into the Forecourt of the Stars. Inside the forty-foot high walls, lotus-shaped fountains splashed. The red carpet passed between the cement handprints and footprints of Hollywood legends. And more press.

  It wasn’t as bad as the swarming at the Academy Awards, but television crews from a number of entertainment networks were present. Ryan did short interviews about how excited he was about the Violet Eyes premiere. His ease amazed Holly. And the press loved him—charmed by his silver tongue.

  The only questions Holly had to answer were fashion related. Otherwise, she stood and smiled. So far—Holly crossed her fingers—nobody had connected her with Joseph Beecher’s daughter, Hollywood.

  About five meters behind them, her dad and Qeturah were making the same slow progression. The red carpet seemed a kilometer long, but at last Ryan led Holly past the tall coral-red pillars and stone heaven dogs, under the pagoda roof, and inside the grand old theater.

  Holly looked around with interest. She’d been to the Chinese Theatre years ago, but it had been renovated since. She remembered the rich Chinese dragon rug underfoot but not the gold mural above the bar.

  A huge movie poster dominated the lobby, a shot of Ryan and Cassie facing off. The image was bleached white so that their violet eyes stood out eerily.

  One of the other cast members hailed Ryan, and they spent the next twenty minutes mingling. Holly was laughing at an audition-gone-wrong story when a murmur rippled through the crowd.

  Cassie Burns had arrived. She wore a strapless dress the color of red poppies with a dangerously short skirt and fabulous silver sling-backs that showed off her pedicure. Her short blond hair flew around her face in a halo of stylish spikes, and a fortune in rubies and diamonds weighed down her throat and ears.

  In contrast, her date—some long-haired drummer—looked grubby and ill at ease in his tux.

  Given the choice, Holly would’ve avoided talking to Cassie Burns for, well, forever. But Cassie dispatched her date to the bar and headed over. “Ryan!” She kissed his cheek. “How was your first trip down the red carpet?”

  “So far, so good,” Ryan said, smiling. He put his arm around Holly’s waist. “You remember Holly?”

  “Of course. Nice gown,” Cassie said, amusement in her eyes. “Very appropriate.”

  At first Holly didn’t understand, and then she realized her dress was violet, like the title of the movie. About to laugh off the coincidence, she remembered Jen saying the gown had been designed for someone else. Her stomach dropped, and her cheeks flushed with humiliation. She was wearing Cassie’s ca
stoff.

  “Yeah, the dress is a knockout,” Ryan said. Not only had he missed the subtext, the heat in his eyes told her he felt proud to have her on his arm.

  Holly took a deep breath. She could be Miss Insecure and let Cassie ruin her evening, or she could let it go. She lifted her chin. The dress was a knockout, and she looked great. “Isn’t it fantastic? I was lucky to get it on such short notice. I love your shoes, by the way.”

  Cassie blinked, as if not sure how to take the compliment. “Uh, thanks.”

  Cassie’s date rejoined her, and Holly endured ten minutes of chitchat before clearing her throat. “Ryan, my dad’s signaling us. I think he wants to introduce you to somebody.”

  Cassie raised an exquisitely plucked eyebrow. “Your father’s here?”

  Ryan chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you Holly’s last name? It’s Beecher. As in…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Joseph Beecher’s daughter.” Cassie’s poise faltered for a moment. “Well. Better not keep our favorite director waiting.”

  While Joseph Beecher introduced Ryan around, Holly excused herself, ostensibly to grab some diet cola, but really to give Ryan a chance to shine.

  Idly scanning the crowd, her gaze fell on Qeturah. Holly blinked. OMG, Qeturah was talking with Dunne, the fake cop from the True World. Only he wasn’t in uniform tonight; his tux blended in with the rest of the crowd.

  Holly edged forward, careful to appear absorbed in something else, while straining to make out their conversation.

  “Are you sure you can wake him?” Dunne asked. “Malachi—”

  “Malachi understands the need to take a calculated gamble,” Qeturah said icily.

  Holly missed Dunne’s reply when the ushers flung open the theater doors. People flocked inside. Holly retreated to the sidelines, thinking furiously. Wake who? The ocean? What gamble?

  Filled with anxiety, she fought her way to Ryan’s side. He took her hand. “There you are. Let’s wait until traffic dies down,” he suggested.

  She noticed he was clenching his jaw. “Something wrong?” she spoke close to his ear.

  He started to deny it then changed his mind. “Your dad was flirting with some woman.” Outrage burned in his eyes.

  Yes, Holly crowed inside. Outwardly, she grimaced. “I’d like to tell you not to worry, but my dad’s record with women is pretty bad.”

  The ushers signaled her and Ryan to enter next, saving Holly from further false commiserations.

  The usher seated them beside Qeturah, her dad, and his coproducers, four seats down from Cassie and her date.

  After Holly settled herself, she nudged Ryan. “Nervous?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Ryan’s smile was self-deprecating. “It’s one thing to watch myself play Cody on the small screen, but…I’ve only been in a few scenes each episode. And this is definitely a big screen.” He pointed to the front of the theater, where the red curtains with their distinctive pattern of gold palm trees were parting.

  She squeezed his hand as the lights dimmed. “You’re going to be terrific.”

  Holly watched as Angel Eastland (played by Cassie) first met Michael Vallant (Ryan), and sparks flew. The two were adversaries for the first half of the film but then made a pact to join forces—a pact sealed with a very hot kiss. With mixed feelings, Holly recognized it from the tabloid pic.

  “Don’t look.” Ryan found her lips in the dark. Holly kissed him back until a loud noise drew their attention back to the screen.

  The second half of the movie had Holly on the edge of her seat. When the credits rolled, she applauded loudly, kissed Ryan, then hugged and congratulated her dad.

  Hors d’oeuvres and punch had been laid out on a long table off to one side of the lobby. It and the bar were mobbed. Dozens of people shook Ryan’s hand. He looked dazed but exhilarated.

  The premiere wound down an hour later, but the night was far from over. The four of them piled back into the limo and cruised over to the post-premiere bash at Marina del Rey.

  The man-made marina’s design had always reminded Holly of a leaf, with branches going off of the main channel. It had seven huge piers with rows of boat slips projecting off each side, but the 150-foot yacht Qeturah had rented was moored in the stem of the leaf, just before the main channel curved, about a kilometer away from the ocean. The ship’s two enclosed decks were lit up like a birthday cake.

  Ice balled in Holly’s stomach at the near certainty that Qeturah planned to make her move tonight.

  “The captain will take us out on a night cruise down the Strand to Santa Monica Pier at one a.m.,” her dad said.

  Holly fixed the time in her head. Whatever happened, she must get Ryan off the boat before then.

  Uniformed crew welcomed them aboard. Ryan steadied Holly as she walked up the gangplank in her high heels and kept her from tripping over the raised lip of the door.

  After one look at the crowded buffet, Ryan suggested they go upstairs.

  Holly happily strolled with him around the deserted upper deck. The breeze off the ocean cooled the nape of her neck as they paused at the stern to gaze over the rail. The moon hung over the still, dark water like a lantern.

  Ryan was leaning in for a kiss when Qeturah click-clacked up. “There you are!” In a suspicious display of maternal devotion, she hugged and congratulated Ryan on his performance a second time, then turned to Holly. “Dear, would you mind? I’d like some privacy with my son.”

  He’s not your son. You killed Ryan’s real mother. Holly didn’t want to leave Ryan alone with Qeturah, but the cruise didn’t start for another forty-five minutes.

  Holly fake smiled. “Sure.” She moved two meters down the railing and pretended to admire the city lights.

  “Your father would be so proud,” Qeturah said.

  “Would he?” Ryan asked doubtfully. “Do mermen watch movies?”

  “Your father is the ocean. You must tell him of your success,” Qeturah said.

  “How? He doesn’t exactly have ears.”

  “Spit into the seawater and then use your silver tongue to Call him,” Qeturah said confidently.

  Holly’s skin prickled. That sounded an awful lot like how Duke Ruben had talked to Isaiah through the hypocaust.

  “Spit?” Ryan protested. “Isn’t that a bit rude?”

  Time to reappear. Holly straightened from the rail, then froze.

  The stern was empty.

  Panic tightened her lungs. Where had they gone? She moved to the stern rail. They had to be up here somewhere, she’d just heard them— Heard, not seen. Illusion.

  Hope rising, Holly listened. Faintly, she picked out Ryan’s voice on the breeze. “…really think that…”

  Except Ryan’s voice seemed to be coming from about three meters farther out. Over empty air.

  (it’s an illusion)

  Leah’s whisper startled Holly. She hadn’t realized her otherself was watching. Surprisingly, Holly was more relieved than annoyed.

  Ya think? Drawing on her experience with the dog, Holly closed her eyes and walked straight at the illusion—

  Only to smack into the railing. She tried to push her way through it, but it wouldn’t yield. Frustrated, Holly whacked the top rail and then cradled her stinging hand. What kind of illusion could cause pain?

  (she must have anchored it. let me come forward. I can get you past it.)

  “No way,” Holly whispered. “You want to help? Tell me how to break it.”

  Pause. (to make an illusion that feels real to the touch, Qeturah will have used at least two mirrors, but the illusion will cover them, too…)

  Ryan’s voice distracted Holly from Leah’s directions.

  “Father, your son is calling.” He sounded bored and impatient, but he was using his siren voice.

  Screw this. Breaking the illusion was taking too long. If she couldn’t walk through the illusion railing, she would climb over it. The real deck must still be there. It only looked like empty air, right?

  Scared, bu
t determined, Holly stepped onto the railing’s lowest rung. The metal felt real under her feet, but she must actually be standing with both feet still on the ground.

  “Hey!” Before she could swing her leg over the illusory rail, a crewman seized her arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Crap. Holly slurred her voice as if drunk. “I just wanted to feel the wind.”

  “I can’t let you up there, it’s too dangerous.” Keeping a firm grip on her arm, he pulled her back from the railing.

  Holly seriously considered decking him and throwing herself over the rail, but other people were staring now. The crewman released her but took up position guarding the fake stern.

  Hoping he’d go away, Holly wandered over to the glass-enclosed wheelhouse and stared at her reflection in a darkened window. Leah wavered into focus, her expression frantic. Holly snarled mentally. If you have any good ideas, speak now.

  …

  About to beg Holly to let her in, Leah was seized by a sudden idea. “Pull my body through.”

  Qeturah had done it, why couldn’t she?

  When Qeturah had stepped into the bathroom with Nimue, it had created a horrid dissonance. Later Qeturah had claimed that if two otherselves shared the same world for long, it would kill them both. But Qeturah lied. And Leah would only stay a short length of time.

  “You need help,” Leah argued.

  Holly didn’t hesitate. (what do you need me to do?)

  “Find a large mirror, large enough to step through.”

  (done.)

  “Cut your finger. No, wait.” The magic book had said to use blood for the hot-blooded and spit for the silver tongued. “Wet your fingers in your mouth.”

  Leah dashed her fist against the stone wall until the skin over her knuckles split. She dabbed her fingers in the blood. “Now press your hand to the mirror while I do the same.”

  …

  Breathless, Holly met her otherself’s fierce eyes in the glass and matched her right hand to Leah’s left.

  Black smoke roiled across the surface of the mirror, obscuring Leah’s face. The saliva melted through the glass. Their hands touched. Holly closed her fingers over Leah’s wrist and yanked.