The window’s glass molecules parted. Her otherself stood beside her, looking way underdressed for a Hollywood party.
Ringing filled Holly’s ears, the dissonance caused from two otherselves sharing one world. She ignored it. “Follow me.” Holly ran back to the stern of the yacht.
Unfortunately, the crewman was still hanging around.
Holly took a deep breath. “You break Qeturah’s illusion. I’ll distract him.”
Leah nodded.
Holly pinned on a big smile and approached the crewman. He wore a white hat and a black uniform with gold buttons but looked too young to be the captain. “Sorry about the misunderstanding earlier. I promise I’m not suicidal.”
“Good to know.” He sounded unimpressed.
Behind him, Leah crouched down and ran her hands over the deck, searching for mirrors.
“I’m Holly.” She stuck out her hand.
“Dan Carpenter.” Reluctantly, he shook her hand, and she noticed a heavy ruby ring on his finger.
She blinked. Rings. The power ring she’d borrowed from Qeturah—
Holly didn’t stop to think. She pointed to the bow. “Look over there! Man overboard!”
In the second he glanced away, Holly held her ring in front of her like a battering ram and charged the railing. Her skin buzzed, the illusion flickered, and then she popped through to the other side.
To her vast relief, Ryan and Qeturah still stood at the railing. Ryan had fallen quiet, studying the dark ocean.
“Again,” Qeturah said. “I don’t think he heard you.”
Ryan straightened. “Enough, Mom, enough! The ocean isn’t my father. You hooked up with some silver-tongued jerk who didn’t bother to use a condom or mention that he was a merman.” His tone gentled. “I know being a single mom was hard, but I’m grown up now. I don’t need the fairy tale anymore. I don’t need a father. I need you to be well.”
His pleading broke Holly’s heart, because Nimue was dead.
“You may not need your father,” Qeturah said coolly, “but I do.” She jabbed a Taser into his neck. A spark of light, a sizzle—
Ryan’s eyes rolled up; he convulsed and fell to the deck, twitching.
Before Holly could scream, a gun muzzle prodded her side. “Easy does it,” a man said.
Very carefully, she swiveled her neck and saw the crewman—only on this side of the illusion he had a mustache and lighter hair. She recognized Dunne.
“Should I kill her?” he asked casually.
Holly’s heartbeat stuttered.
“That depends,” Qeturah said. “Which one is she?”
“What?” Dunne frowned.
“Which self,” Qeturah said impatiently. “Can’t you hear the dissonance? They’re both on the same side of the mirror.”
Shock slackened his face. “But that’s insane.”
Qeturah didn’t look worried. “Are you Leah or Holly?”
Holly lifted her chin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“If I kill her, the dissonance will stop, right?” Dunne asked, still pale.
“Yes, but Holly and Leah have very good True World connections, and I may want to send another message to the First Councillor. Don’t shoot her unless she forces you.”
Which was not the same thing as “don’t kill her.”
On the deck, Ryan groaned and opened his eyes.
Without the slightest hesitation, Qeturah tasered him again, for longer this time. His body went rigid, then collapsed.
Holly bit her lip, drawing blood to keep from screaming at Qeturah to stop.
Qeturah knelt down and wrapped Holly’s pearl necklace around Ryan’s wrist—she had stolen it—then held out her hand. “Give me the gun.”
“Why?” Dunne asked warily.
“So I can point it at her while you throw him over the rail. Hurry up. I don’t want to zap him again. His blood and the pearl together should do the trick, but I don’t know if it will work if he’s already dead when he hits the water.”
“No. I keep the gun.”
“How wonderfully paranoid of you,” Qeturah said. “But not only am I unlikely to damage my only route off this world that doesn’t lead back to Fire, I’m also not strong enough to lift him over the rail by myself.”
Dunne jabbed Holly with the gun again. “Help her.”
Holly stumbled forward. Come on, Leah, what’s taking you so long?
…
Leah swept her fingers across the polished wooden planks and cursed Holly under her breath. Holly had found a way through the illusion, but she’d left Leah helpless on the other side.
There. Although her eyes saw only wood, Leah felt the smooth surface of a glass mirror. If she could just find the power ring feeding the illusion…
The vibration of something heavy falling to the deck filled her with alarm. Had something happened to Ryan?
All she could feel was smooth glass. No, wait. Her fingers traced raised lines: a sketch of the railing.
On instinct, she spit on her fingers and rubbed away the paint or dried blood Qeturah had used. The illusion rail remained solid—there must be a second mirror and a power ring anchoring it—but when she pressed her head against it, she could suddenly see through it.
…
Qeturah’s lips tightened in annoyance at Dunne’s refusal, but she bent down and grabbed Ryan under the shoulders. “Lift his legs,” she ordered Holly. “Higher.”
Holly obeyed as slowly as she could, hoping Ryan would regain consciousness. Fear made her fingers cold.
Qeturah draped Ryan’s head and arms over the railing. His head lolled as she transferred her grip to his waist.
Once Ryan’s balance shifted, he would drop headfirst into the sea. The drop was only about twenty-five feet, but if he was still unconscious, he would drown.
No. Holly had lived through Leah’s memories of Gideon’s death. She wasn’t going to let Ryan die.
She held Ryan’s feet over the rail then, pretending that she needed more leverage, she toed off her pumps and climbed up onto the first rung.
Qeturah wrestled Ryan’s shoulders over the top rail, then angled her shoulders under his torso and pushed up.
Holly flung her leg over the rail. The slit in her skirt tore.
“Stop!” Dunne raised his gun.
Panicked, Holly grabbed Ryan’s shoulders and flung herself backward into empty space. They fell overboard together.
The crack of gunfire—
—the horrid sensation of wind and falling—
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dissonance
Holly lost her grip on Ryan upon impact. Her back hit the water first, stinging like a thousand needles and driving half the air from her lungs.
She uncurled underwater, slowing her descent. Where was Ryan? She slitted open her eyes but couldn’t see anything in the dark water except a faint glow from the surface. Her heart raced. If she didn’t find Ryan now—in the next minute—she would never find him. He would drown.
She swept her arms through the water, searching. Had he fallen past her? She should have held him tighter.
Pressure built in her lungs as she dived, trying to see with her fingers.
Several meters down her leg brushed something.
She thrashed in the water, turning, and her fingers grazed cloth. She grabbed, heaved. Thank God. She’d found him.
Fresh fear churned her stomach at the way he hung heavy and unresponsive. What if he was already dead?
She kicked for the surface, but her twenty-thousand-dollar dress encased her legs like wet cement. Her chest burned with the need for oxygen. The strength drained from her limbs, and the light seemed impossibly distant.
Ryan’s weight would drag her down to her death. Panic clawed at her, the instinct to survive rising.
I can’t do this.
But she’d thought the same thing before—when she’d found herself playing Gwendolen up onstage—and she’d done that. She remembered the warmth in Ryan
’s eyes, his confidence in her at the premiere.
She could do this, and she would, because, no matter what, she—kick—wasn’t—kick—letting—kick—go.
Kick. Her head burst through the surface into air. She struggled to tread water. Her harsh gasps competed with the ringing in her ears.
Ryan’s body bobbed beside her in merman form, facedown. And he didn’t have gills. She flipped him over. The reflected glow from the yacht revealed a cut on his forehead and his shredded trouser legs.
“Ryan.” She shook him, but he didn’t stir. Her leg muscles screamed for mercy. Every kick took superhuman effort, and every time she slacked off, they both sank and water slopped over his nose.
No. She hadn’t rescued him just to die now.
“Help.” Her voice was hoarse, weak. Rescue would mean the betrayal of Ryan’s secret, and if Dunne heard, he would shoot at them, but she had no choice. “Help!”
…
Trapped on the other side of the illusion, Leah saw Holly fall over the rail, holding Ryan’s lifeless body.
No! In a frenzy, she threw herself against the illusion, bruising herself, even though it was too late.
Gideon’s otherself was dead.
A hammer blow—
She’d failed.
—of crippling pain—
Qeturah had won. Again.
—driving her to her knees.
Dissonance vibrated in her bones, hurting her teeth. The symptoms should’ve worried her, but the hatred that flooded her left no room for petty concerns.
Qeturah had killed Ryan; now Leah would kill Qeturah.
Cold rage pushed her back to her feet. She started to climb the illusion railing, but the sight of Dunne pointing his gun—the weapon that had replaced crossbows on this world—down at the sea gave her pause. If he shot her, she would die, and Qeturah would escape.
“Did it work?” the True Worlder asked. “I think I missed my shot.”
A large wave slapped against the hull of the boat, making it rock back and forth.
“Yes,” Qeturah said triumphantly. “The Ocean wakes.”
The True Worlder shook his head stubbornly. “Inconclusive. It might’ve just been a rogue wave. My orders are to grant you passage to the next world only after Malachi confirms your success.”
Fury compressed Qeturah’s lips. “Do as you wish. I’m leaving before the Water Elemental takes his revenge.” She strode straight toward Leah.
Leah jumped down and moved along the rail, her back turned, as if absorbed by the view.
Qeturah swept past, heading for the wheelhouse stairs. The True Worlder hurried after her, shoving his gun inside of his uniform jacket.
Leah pursued them in silence. She had no weapon, but she was a Caller. All she needed was a mirror.
…
Down in the water, Holly struggled to boost Ryan back to the surface after the large wave swamped her. Where had that come from? The sheltered marina was usually as calm as glass.
And then the tide reversed. A current pulled them with eager hands away from the yacht. If she’d had breath, Holly would’ve wailed in despair. As the water rushed back toward the mouth of the marina, it swept them toward the sea wall.
Holly used up her last reserves to propel herself and Ryan into the spot where the channel curved, forming a small backwater. She used the seawall to brace him in place.
Water covered his mouth and nose again; she grabbed a handful of his hair and hauled his head out. Despair filled her. He’d been unconscious so long. Was he even breathing?
“Ryan, please wake up.” She patted his face.
Under her hands Ryan suddenly choked. She held him as he violently coughed up the water he’d inhaled. Tears leaked from her eyes as she crooned, “It’s all right, it’s all right.”
His being alive made everything all right.
…
Leah stalked through the lower deck. Women in brightly colored dresses with no sleeves and low necklines and too-short skirts drank wine and laughed with men in more modest attire. Except for a fleeting thought that her mother would have loved the fabrics, Leah ignored the crowd, keeping an eye on her prey.
Cold, implacable purpose filled her. She would send the True Worlder back to his own body first, cutting off Qeturah’s avenue of escape.
Passing the buffet table, she pilfered a silver knife to use as a mirror.
“Holly?” someone called.
Leah ignored the voice. Qeturah and the True Worlder were almost at the exit.
A blond girl in a red dress grabbed her arm. “Have you seen Ryan? They want to take some pics—” She broke off. “What happened to your dress? I know you didn’t like wearing my castoff, but that’s taking it a little far.”
Leah shook free. “Get out of my way.”
The blonde’s face reddened. “You can’t talk to me like that. Just because you’re Joseph Beecher’s daughter doesn’t—”
But Leah was the duke’s daughter. He wouldn’t have hesitated for an instant. She seized the other girl’s goblet and dashed the contents in her face. While the blonde gasped and spluttered, Leah darted forward.
She could see Qeturah, but where had the True Worlder gone?
He appeared at her elbow and jammed something hard into her ribs. The weapon. “Come quietly, or I’ll shoot you right here.”
He dragged her toward the exit and Qeturah. Frustration gripped Leah. She wasn’t afraid of dying, only of dying before she killed Qeturah.
Four feet from the gangplank, the blonde grabbed her shoulder. “Hey! You—” Midexclamation, her eyes widened, and she stumbled back. “Oh my God! He has a gun!”
Heads swiveled. The True Worlder swore.
Leah whipped the silver knife out of her pocket and held it in front of his eyes.
He staggered and almost fell, blinking in confusion. The gun pointed at the floor. “What?” Dunne’s otherself asked.
A guest and a crewman tackled him to the deck.
Over their heads, Leah met Qeturah’s gaze. Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t panic, quietly walking away.
“What happened?” asked a man with a white hat and gold braid on his uniform.
Leah let the blonde answer, slipping after Qeturah.
…
Holly buried her face against Ryan’s shoulder and cried. She’d been so scared.
He held her tight. “What—what happened?” he asked hoarsely.
“Your crazy mother tasered you and threw you overboard,” Holly said starkly. “I jumped in after you.”
His face tightened with anguish, but he must’ve remembered part of it, because he didn’t deny it. “Why?”
Heartsick, Holly chose her words carefully. “She was nattering something about waking the ocean and gaining power when he shattered the world.”
“But I’m her son.” Pain imbued his voice.
“She tried to kill you,” Holly said harshly. She couldn’t let Qeturah have another chance at Ryan. “She’s not the mother you knew. Not anymore.”
“Something must be wrong with her meds,” Ryan said feebly.
“She needs to be locked up,” Holly said. “She tried to kill you.”
Ryan drew breath as if to argue but became distracted by the moving water. “Why’s the water level dropping?”
“Your father reversed the tide to save you.”
Instead of looking awed, Ryan’s face drained of color. “This isn’t a scheduled low tide.”
“I know,” Holly said. “I told you—”
“No. Even if the ocean is my father, tides are caused by the moon’s gravitational pull. Nobody can move the moon. This”—Ryan indicated the rushing current and the still sinking water level—“is a very bad sign. We have to get out of the water. Now.” He grabbed her waist and boosted her up with a powerful flex of his tail.
Holly caught some of his panic. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase against the slick surface of the seawall separating the marina channel from Ballona Cre
ek. “What’s wrong?”
“If the tide goes out when it shouldn’t, it’s a sign that something else is coming: a tsunami.”
Chapter Thirty
Tsunami
Climbing in bare feet hurt, but the thought of the coming tidal wave spurred Holly on. The top of the Ballona Creek bike path lay three meters above.
Pausing for breath, Holly saw a thin line of silver a kilometer distant—the seawall guarding the mouth of Marina del Rey. Surely it would break the tsunami, or at least slow it? But an enormous bulge of water swelled behind it, bigger and bigger—
“Faster,” Ryan urged from beside her.
Her foot slipped, and she tumbled back into the water below.
Instantly, the drawback of the tsunami grabbed her, sucking her around the corner into the main channel.
“Holly!” Ryan splashed in after her.
She put her head down and swam hard, but she was no match for the power of the ocean.
“Keep swimming!” Ryan grabbed her shoulder and added his powerful tail flips to her strokes.
Gasping, her strength running out like sand, she noticed the drawback current had eased. She raised her head.
Oh. My. God.
The tsunami was close enough that she could see the dreadful scale of it, tall as a three-story building. It rolled forward, devouring the bike path and overflowing into Ballona Creek. Her heart stuttered; it would be upon them in a minute.
She pushed at Ryan’s shoulder, until he raised his head, his hair gleaming midnight blue. “We can’t outrun it!” She shouted over both the roar of the surf and the continuous ringing in her ears.
Ryan saw the truth for himself. Fear and despair bowed his shoulders. He pushed back a lock of wet hair, and Holly saw the pearl necklace Qeturah had fastened around his wrist.
Hope seized Holly. “The pearl! Kiss it, and tell your father you’re not dead.”
Ryan stared at her with blank, opalescent eyes.
Holly struggled to explain. “He’s only doing this because he thinks you’re dead, and he’s angry.”
His face twisted. “Tsunamis are caused by earthquakes. Neptune doesn’t exist!”
Holly stilled in the face of his passion. Because of Nimue’s mental illness, he’d had to be the practical, strong one. The one who didn’t believe in Ocean Lords and absentee fathers. The straight path had kept him and Nimue safe and fed. It wasn’t fair to ask him to veer off the road now, but she had no choice.
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