I kiss her wet, salty cheeks one at a time and she jerks back.
“Don’t kiss my eyes. My dad says it’s bad luck.”
“Your dad also says I’m bad luck.”
“No, he says you’re bad news.”
“But you’re still here.” My insides are moving, like the first
time I shifted into my tail. Like I’m not done becoming whoever I’m
supposed to be. “We’re only just starting and I’m not ready for it to
be done.”
“Listen to me.” Her hand cups the back of my neck. “I will never
be done with you.”
And then she kisses me again. I hold her tight against me because
I’m afraid if I let her go, she’ll be gone for good. I pull her tank
top over her head, kissing the dip of her clavicle. Outside the dark
is getting darker, but I don’t need light to find her mouth. I realize
I’ve never been this close to Layla before. I’ve thought about it,
alone in my bed when the possibility of her feeling the same way was
not even an option. I’ve been with girls because I was bored. Because
I wanted to feel this. Because I didn’t know how different it could be
when I totally completely loved the other person.
She stops for a moment, guiding me with her hands.
I want to shout it out at the top of my lungs. I’m dizzy and
giddy. We kiss while we smile and it’s clumsy, and we laugh and I know
I love this girl. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole
life.
When I sleep, I see her-the nautilus maid. She’s weak. Her pale
pink skin has a cold tinge to it. The white, shimmering stone of the
Toliss chamber is her prison. Two bodies lay limp beside her, and even
though I can’t look at their faces, I know they’re dead.
The nautilus maid snaps to attention, like she heard a noise, her
eyes darting right at me.
She says my name.
•••
“Tristan!” Someone is shaking me.
I sit up fast and reach for my dagger. I pat the empty mattress,
before I realize my harness is on the windowsill.
“Get up!” Thalia’s voice becomes familiar again.
I don’t remember the last time I slept so well. Despite the crick
in my neck, that is. Then a knot tightens in my chest. When we fell
asleep, Layla was in my arms. Now she’s gone.
“What’s happened?”
“There are people,” Thalia says. “On the beach.”
Layla walks back into the room. She’s changed into her lifeguard
two-piece. Her hair is tied back into a long braided rope. A sword
draped around her hips. Wait a minute, how long has she been awake?
I rub off the layer of crud that keeps my eyelids shut. “I thought
the city was evacuated.”
I sling my harness back on and buckle it on my chest.
“I believe it’s a mermaid,” Thalia says. “She’s calling them out
to sea. They’re sleepwalking, entranced by the call.”
I start to follow them out, but Layla stops me at the door. She
smirks. “You may want to cover up first.”
She turns around and walks down the steps with Thalia, laughing.
When I look down, I’m naked.
“Really funny!” I yell after them.
I close my eyes and wait for the quick burn that comes with
raising my scales. My skin is numb where my scales cover my skin, and
I resist the urge to scratch everywhere. It’s like my entire body is
thirsty for water.
When I’m decent, I run downstairs. My small army is pooling out
onto the street. It takes me a moment to realize what’s wrong. It has
nothing to do with the drizzle or the monster rain clouds that cover
every inch of blue sky. It has everything to do with the dark circle
trying to cover up the sun.
“It looks like a black and white cookie,” Marty says.
“Except you can’t eat it,” I counter, taking Layla’s hand in mine.
The vampires step out of the house slowly, reaching out with their
pale hands. They don’t burn and that gives them the courage to walk
out. Even though the day is dark and gray, they squint at the hiding
sun.
Frederik is the last one to walk out. Rachel is beside him. He
catches my eye, and for the first time since I’ve met him, I see a
look of wonder on his face. It’s like even though he doesn’t want to
admit it, this is the thing he’s been longing for.
It only lasts for a few minutes, his face tilting up to the sliver
of sun that doesn’t burn him. He holds out his palms, like he’s
receiving a blessing. But it’s short lived.
We all turn to the water where someone screams. It’s worse than I
thought.
Beneath the crashing waves that lap their way up toward the
boardwalk, dozens of men tumble out. They walk slowly and stagger, as
if their hands are being pulled by invisible strings. One of them
walks past me, and his face is both strange and familiar. Then it hits
me how long I haven’t been home. How my best friends are almost
strangers to me.
His eyes are dilated and staring, his mouth open. I grab him by
his wiry arms. “Bertie!”
He pulls against me, mumbling and incoherent.
“ Bertie, wake up! ” I shout.
When did he get so strong? He shoves me off him and joins the
horde of men making their way to the beach.
I recognize them all-the old Dominican man from the bodega and
Jimmy from the Wreck.
“ Coach! ” Layla screams. She runs and jumps on his back. He flips
her over, and she falls hard on the boardwalk.
“Don’t let them get in the water,” Frederik yells, “or they’ll
drown!”
But the problem is that they’re possessed. Their own lives don’t
matter because they’re not in there.
Then I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, bro.”
I pull back and punch Bertie right in the face. His head slacks
and he crumples to the ground. I hold two fingers in front of his
nostrils. His breathing is fine, so I leave him and run out on the
beach where the Alliance is trying to hold back the humans.
Layla is screaming, holding back someone’s hand. Tears run down
her face. I’ve never seen her so scared, not even when she had a knife
at her throat. I run to her and help her hold her father back.
“Don’t hurt him, Tristan. Please don’t hurt him,” she cries. But I
know that it’s the only way to stop him from drowning.
“Turn around,” I say, even though I know that she won’t. I look
into Mr. Santos’s hazel eyes that have the same fierceness as his
daughter’s. His hair is whiter than I remember, but the mustache is
still black. He calls out for Layla, tells her he’s coming to find
her. Before I can do anything, he takes a swing at me. It takes me by
surprise, and he grazes my ear with the ring on his left hand. Then he
keeps walking onto the beach, calling for his daughter.
“ Dad! ” Layla yells. “I’m here. I’m here.”
We jump on him. He flips over, hands flailing in the air, sand
going into his mouth. His eyes are glazed over, bewitched.
All around me, the men of the city trek onto the sand because the
Alliance can’t reach them in time, and they walk straight into the
water where their screams get muffled beneath the waves.
And then the wind shifts. A second voice-strong but soothing. It’s
the voice that takes me back to being a kid. The utterly impossible
memory of being a baby and swimming with a fishtail.
Mr. Santos stops struggling. His arms fall to his sides and he
doesn’t move.
“Dad!” Layla grabs him by his shirt and shakes him. When she makes
a whimpering sound, it crushes me. “Wake up.”
I want to console her, but another familiar man is headed our way.
“Dad?” I say.
He walks toward me, eyes totally dazed. He falls to his knees and