She drifted in the cooling water, feeling newly born.
All too soon, he was pulling her to her feet. He toweled her off, pulled the blanket off the hook over the heater and wrapped her in it. It was deliciously warm. He scooped her into his arms, and she relaxed against him like a sleepy baby, boneless. No protests or arguments.
He laid her down on the futon and shoved off his waterlogged jeans. He crouched over her, covering her with his naked, scalding heat. “OK. It's make-believe time,” he said. 'This is the part in the story where you show me how much you love me.”
She reached for him. “Seth—”
“Please don't. The less you say, the more believable it will be.”
She stared up into his fierce dark eyes. This was as far as he could come towards her. They were so far outside the bounds of the normal, ordinary world that she no longer took anything for granted. A million impossible things might be true, another million solid truths might be sheer illusion. But one thing was for sure. She loved him. He had saved her life. He was beautiful, and brave and valiant. He had told her that he loved her tonight, and he had meant it with all his heart No one else in her whole life had ever done so much.
What was true would stay true, whether he let himself believe it or not. And if he wouldn't let her use words to tell him so, then she would use the only language left to her.
She held out her arms. She would make him understand.
The window was black when the low knock sounded on the door.
Seth lifted his head as if he'd never slept at all. “Yes?” “Showtime,” someone said quietly.
I'll be right down.” He flipped on the light and pulled on his clothes in grim silence.
Raine sat up, trying to think of something to say. Seth ignored her, yanking on the shirt. The bandage had seeped blood in the night. He gave it a brief, barely interested glance and buttoned the shirt over it without comment.
Panic uncoiled inside her. “You're following that gun, aren't you? The Corazon?”
He didn't answer.
Images blazed through her mind. Crimson spattered on white, the blood on Seth's bandage. His red shirt. Tulips on the floor. The curse of the Corazon. The words flew out of her, with all the urgency of terror.
“OK, you win, Seth. I admit it. I told Victor everything. Don't go. It's a trap.”
He smiled as he dropped to his knees by the futon, but his eyes were somber. “You are a piece of work, sweetheart. I never know which way you'll jump.”
“Seth, I—”
He cut off her words with a swift, hard kiss. “Be good.”
He grabbed the padlock, and shot her a quick grin; crooked and oddly sweet. The door closed, the lock rattled and clicked.
She heard his light footsteps, going down the stairs, and a faint, faraway murmur of male voices. It was always the same; the panic, the frustration. The boat, floating away, and herself too small and helpless to intervene. The headlights danced across the trees as the car drove away. She buried her face in her hands and wept.
After a long time, she slid back into an uneasy doze. Images melted and reformed in her mind, finally coalescing into the rippling expanse of water that stretched out from Stone Island.
Thunder rumbled, far-off and ominous. Fitful gusts of wind made her fathers sails billow and flap. He wouldn't take her with him. He wanted to be alone; always that same apologetic half-smile; sorry, Katya, but I don't have the energy to be cheered up. I need to be quiet and think. Run back on up to the house to your mother, eh? She needs you.
What a joke. Alix needing her, hah. The boat drifted far-then He waved to her, and she remembered the dream she'd had that night. She called out to him, blubbering with panic, but he just hoisted sail and drifted farther. When she had dreams like that, something bad always happened. And if Alix saw her with red eyes, she would just say, oh, for God's sake, stop whining, Katie, I'm losing my patience.
She curled up beneath the roots of a dead tree that jutted out over the water. Waves had carved out a spot beneath just big enough for an eleven-year-old girl, small for her age, to curl up tight in a ball and watch that faraway sail bob on the water. As long as she could see it, nothing bad could happen. She didn't even dare blink. It would break the spell.
She heard heavy, clumping footsteps on the dock. Ed Riggs was the only one who walked like that. Katya had never liked Ed, even if he was her mother's good friend. He talked to Daddy like Daddy was stupid, when Daddy was the smartest man in the world except for maybe Victor. Ed pretended to be nice, but he wasn't. And lately, she'd had dreams about him. Like the one she 'd had last night.
He stood on the dock in front of her, watching the sail float and bob against the water, as frail and delicate as a white moth. He watched for a long time, like he was deciding something. She was outwardly quiet but her heart was thudding as he untied the boat, put the motor down and headed out. Diesel fumes floated over to her hidey-hole and almost made her sick. He headed right for that white sail, a black dot, receding until he was too small to see. The wind began to rise, and the water whipped and frothed, surging over the pebbles to slosh over her feet. The sky wasn't white anymore. It was brownish, yellowish gray, like a bruise. Thunder rolled, closer. It began to rain.
She kept her eyes fixed on that white moth, afraid even to blink; but the eye spell wouldn'twork anymore, Ed had bro- ken it. She pretended her eyes were a rope that could putt him back, but the white moth bobbed and tossed, resisting the pull of her eyes.
The dark speck grew slowly bigger again.
She scrambled out of the hidey-hole, wading over to the ladder of roots. She scampered up to the path. She didn't want to be stuck between Ed and the water, not after last night's dream. It was so dart Then she realized she was still wearing the frog sunglasses. Duh, of course it was dark, but she couldn't see well enough without them to take them off.
Ed was almost on top of her before he noticed she was there. His eyes went so wide that she could see the whites all the way around.
“What did you do to my daddy? “ she demanded.
Ed's mouth dropped open beneath his thick mustache. His hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking, but it wasn't cold outside.
“What are you doing out here in the rain, honey? “
“Where's my daddy? “ she said again, louder.
Ed stared at her for a moment, and then squatted down in front of her. He held out his hand. “Come on, Katie. I'll take you to your daddy.”
He smiled his nice-guy smile, but a flash of lightning illuminated what the smile really was—something horrible, as if snakes were coming out of his eyes and mouth. Like that horror movie she'd watched on TV one night while the grownups were partying.
Thunder crashed. She screamed and sprang away from him like a racehorse out of the gate. She was fast, but his legs were long. His hands closed on her arm, but she was as slippery as a fish. She wrenched out of his grip. The frog glasses flew, but she kept running, screaming, into the featureless green blur....
A knock sounded, and she sat up, choking back a scream. It sounded again; the same polite little tap which must have yanked her out of the nightmare. She wrapped herself hastily in the blanket, her heart still racing. “Come in,” she called out cautiously.