Tidal (6 page)

“Penn, come on,” Thea said, looking at her directly. “This is all about Daniel.”

“What?” Penn laughed, but it was weak. “That’s stupid.”

“Penn, you can’t pretend with me. I know you.” The wind was blowing through Thea’s red hair when she turned to her. “I’m probably the only one in the whole world that really knows you. And you’re obsessed with that guy.”

“I’m not!” Penn insisted. Then she groaned and shook her head. “It’s not an obsession. I just … I can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe there’s nothing to figure out.”

Penn stopped at a stop sign at the edge of town, thinking that over for a minute. A car pulled up behind her and honked at them, but she was oblivious.

“No, there’s something there,” she said finally, and turned the corner, beginning the ascent up the hill to the top of the cliff. “Do you think he’s related to Bastian?”

“Bastian?” Thea asked, sounding strangely out of breath.

“Yeah, Bastian, or Orpheus. Or whatever name he’s going by now. Last time I saw him it was Bastian.”

“That was…” Thea swallowed. “That was three hundred years ago.”

“Exactly,” Penn said. “Maybe he’s had kids or something since then. I should try to find him.” She lowered her voice, almost muttering to herself. “Although I haven’t been that good at finding anyone lately.”

Thea shook her head. “You haven’t seen or heard from Bastian in centuries. And it wasn’t like the last time you talked to him turned out so great.”

“That’s true.” Penn mulled it over for a second. “He’s probably dead by now anyway.”

“Right,” Thea said. “And I’m sure Daniel is of no relation to him.”

“But there’s something about him.” Penn slowed to take the curves on the steep incline. “He’s … captivating.”

“I don’t find him all that captivating.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably because you’re a lesbian,” Penn said.

“What?” Thea turned to face her, her mouth agape. “I’m not a lesbian. Where did that even come from? And even if I were, what would that matter?”

Penn shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just that Gemma is the only person you seem to ever want to spend time with. I mean, when was the last time you even kissed a guy?”

“I don’t need to go around hooking up with strangers.”

“Yeah, you kinda do. It’s the core of who we are. You’re denying your very nature.”

“You and Lexi do what you want, and I don’t condemn you for it.”

Penn scoffed loudly. “Yeah, right! All you do is sit in your ivory tower and judge us. Sorry we’re not as perfect as your new BFF.”

“You picked her, Penn. Remember that. Gemma was your choice. And if you don’t like her, that’s on you.”

“I know,” Penn agreed. “But I have good news. I think I found the solution.”

“The solution?” Thea asked tentatively.

“Yeah. You know I’ve been looking for a replacement, and I think I found one,” Penn said. “She’s in some dinky little town in Delaware called Auburnton or something like that. I don’t know. But you should come meet her. I think you’ll like her.”

“You’ve already introduced yourself to her?” Thea asked.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure we found the right girl,” Penn said. “She doesn’t know I’m a siren yet, but she’ll be a good fit for us. Much better than Gemma, anyway.”

“That’s what you said about Aggie!” Thea shouted back. “You said Gemma would be so much better than Aggie, and now you’re ready to kill Gemma without even giving her a chance.”

Penn scoffed. “I’ve given her plenty of chances! She’s been ungrateful and horrible and just … awful since she turned.”

“She’s only sixteen, and this is all new to her,” Thea insisted. “You’ve got to give her a chance. She’s like a puppy, and she just needs some time to be housebroken.”

“I told you as soon as I found a new girl I was getting rid of Gemma,” Penn said. “I don’t know why you’re arguing with me about it now.”

“I thought it would take you longer and it would give Gemma a chance to fit in better,” Thea admitted.

They were surrounded by loblolly pines, and the air smelled of the trees and the ocean. Thea stared dejectedly at the trees as they went by.

When Thea spoke again, she’d softened, her rough voice sounding gentle. “Gemma’s not
that
bad.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Penn laughed. “Because of her, we’re stuck in this crappy little town.”

“Really?” Thea arched her eyebrows. “You’re trying to tell me that you’re letting the new girl boss you around? That’s your excuse for staying here?”

“No. I’m not saying that. I’m staying here because
I
decided that it would be easier for us until I could find a replacement for Gemma.”

Thea waited a beat before asking, “And what about Daniel?”

“What about him?”

“Once you find the replacement and Gemma’s out of the picture, we’re just going to leave?”

They’d reached their house at the top of the cliff. It was more rustic than Penn normally liked, but it was the nicest house that she could find in Capri. It was a log cabin, but the kind with high ceilings, a chandelier, and granite countertops.

Penn pulled in the driveway and turned the car off, but she stayed inside. Thea didn’t get out, either, probably because she knew better than to walk away if Penn wasn’t done with the conversation yet.

“Of course,” Penn said firmly. “Daniel has no bearing on any of my decisions. He’s simply an oddity of nature, a curiosity that’s giving me something to play with until we can get the hell out of here.”

“Say what you want, Penn, but remember that I’ve seen you in love before.”

“Like I would be in love with some dirty human like that? Gross.” Penn grimaced. “Just to prove to you that you’re wrong, when I do find a replacement and we get rid of Gemma, I’ll get rid of Daniel.”

“You’ll get rid of him?” Thea asked.

“I’ll rip out his heart and eat it in front of you. I wouldn’t be able to do that to someone I was in love with.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” Thea had turned away from Penn again, staring emptily out at the trees surrounding the cabin. “And you’d be surprised what you can do to the people you love.”

SIX

Fairy Dust

As soon as they got close to Bernie’s Island, an intense nostalgia washed over Harper like a wave. She’d been afraid that she’d lost the wonderful love for one of her favorite places on earth, but it was all coming back.

Daniel moving out to the island had helped her forget about the night they’d come out here and found Bernie McAllister eviscerated in the trees. She’d managed to shove that image deep down inside her, burying it beneath all the happy memories of her childhood spent out here with Bernie and her sister.

As they pulled up to the dock, which was hidden among the trees that grew out into the water, Harper breathed in deeply. The island was almost overgrown with bald cypress trees and pines towering above them.

Instead of taking
The Dirty Gull
into the boathouse, Daniel tied it off at the dock. He’d have to take Harper home in a few hours, and it would be easier this way.

He got off the boat, and held his hand out for Harper, helping her.

“Do you see that?” Daniel let go of her hand to point down at the dock.

“What?” Harper looked down at the warped gray boards beneath her feet. “Does it need to be replaced or something?”

“No. Well, yeah, probably, but that’s not what I meant,” Daniel said. “I mean, do you see where your feet are? You’re standing on the island now.”

“Technically I’m on the dock, and that’s not part of the island,” Harper teased.

He sighed. “It’s close enough. And you remember our agreement?”

“I do.” She smiled up at him. “Once we’re on the island, no talking about sirens or Gemma. It’s just the two of us tonight, without any distractions.”

Since moving out to the island, Daniel had been picking up more jobs to cover the cost of rent, and Harper’d been working extra shifts at the library to save up for college. And whenever the two of them did manage to get the same time off, something with Gemma or Brian or the sirens always seemed to come up. They’d hardly had a moment alone together in the past month.

So Daniel had come up with a plan in which they’d both leave the world behind for a little bit—or as much as Harper could leave it. With everything going on with her sister, she’d never really be able to let go.

“I do reserve the right to leave my phone on and accept any incoming calls, or make any, if I feel it’s necessary,” Harper said.

“I’ll allow it. But only in case of an emergency.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now come on.” Daniel stepped backward but he held out his hand to her. “It’s Friday night, and we’re going to enjoy ourselves.”

She laughed and let him take her hand, his rough skin somehow feeling so perfect against hers. They walked on the narrow path up to the cabin, with creeping Charlie threatening to overgrow the worn dirt path.

The trees were tall and thick enough that the sun streamed through in thin shards. When an ocean breeze blew through the trees, the sunlight seemed to dance on the ground. It was the peacefulness, the odd silence and seclusion of the island, that gave it this wonderful air of magic.

It was so easy to imagine that fairies or other woodland pixies were flitting among the trees, and as a child Harper often had. Bernie had always aided in these fantasies, telling both her and Gemma all kinds of stories filled with fantasy and wonder when they were young.

Once Gemma had found a blue wing of a butterfly. What had happened to the rest of the insect, Harper had no idea, although she was certain that Gemma had done nothing to hurt it. She’d brought the wing over to show Bernie, and he’d crouched down, examining it with careful precision.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Bernie had asked in his warm cockney accent and pushed up the brim of his hat.

“No. What is it?” Gemma asked. She couldn’t have been more than six at the time, so it must’ve been on one of the occasions when Bernie was babysitting them before their mother was in the accident.

Harper stood behind her sister, watching over Gemma’s shoulder as Bernie gave his explanation. They were behind the cabin, by the roses that Bernie’s wife had planted. He refused to trim the bush or cut it back, so it had grown into the largest rosebush Harper had ever seen.

The flowers themselves were massive and a vibrant purple. Each one was nearly twice the size of her fist, and they were so fragrant. When the breeze blew through it in the summer, the sweet perfume of the roses overtook everything else—the scent of the pine trees, the sea, and even the creeping Charlie.

“This is a fairy wing,” Bernie said as he examined the blue wing, turning it carefully in front of his face. “And from the looks of it, I’d say it was from a Bluebelle Fairy. They fly over the flowers that are about to bloom, sprinkling their dust on them, and that’s how the flowers blossom.”

“There’s no such thing as fairies,” Harper said. Even then she was too old to fall for his stories.

“There most certainly are,” Bernie said, pretending to sound offended. “When my wife was alive, bless her soul, she’d spot fairies all the time. That’s how come her rosebush always has the biggest, brightest flowers on it. The fairies are taking care of it for her.”

Harper didn’t want to contradict him more, mostly because she knew that he was just trying to have fun with Gemma. But part of it was because even though she knew better, she still believed him—or at least she wanted to.

“Gemma knows I’m telling the truth,” Bernie said and handed the wing back to Gemma. “She’s probably seen the fairies, haven’t you?”

“I think so.” She held the fragile wing delicately and stared down at it. “They come in colors other than blue, too?”

“Oh, they come in every color you can imagine,” Bernie said.

“Then, yes, I’ve seen one.” Gemma sounded more confident and nodded her head vigorously.

“Next time you’ll have to point one out to your sister, won’t you?” He had looked up at Harper then and winked at her.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Daniel asked, drawing Harper back to the present.

They’d reached the cabin, which looked about the same as the last time she’d seen it. The structure was over fifty years old, and while Bernie had kept it up as best he could, in the last few years it had really begun to show its age.

Daniel had obviously cleaned it up some, replacing the shattered front windows and a log that had rotted out. He left the flowering ivy growing up over the far side of the cabin, small purple and blue blossoms on it, but he’d trimmed it back from the windows and the roof.

“Sorry.” She smiled up at Daniel. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Bernie used to say there were fairies out here,” Harper said, and she turned to survey the wind blowing through the trees. The way the shadows and the light played together, as well as the birds and butterflies flitting through the trees, it was easy to imagine that she saw them now.

“Did you believe him?” Daniel asked, watching her as she stared out at the trees.

“I didn’t, not then.” She shook her head. “No, I did at first, but then I grew out of it and stopped playing make-believe.” Harper looked back at Daniel. “But now I wonder, maybe there really are fairies.”

“What makes you believe in them now? Did you see one flying around?” He glanced up, scanning the skies for any signs of one.

“No.” She smiled, but it was pained and fell away quickly. “With everything we’ve seen lately, it’s made me realize that there has to be more than meets the eye. There have to be so many creatures that we don’t even know about.”

“I know,” he agreed and stepped closer to her. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“How is that wonderful? I think it’s scary.”

“You’re missing the beauty of it,” Daniel said. “There’s so much magic in the world, so much more than I’d ever even believed there could be. We’ve only just seen the tip of it. Pixies, gnomes, even unicorns and dragons. Who knows what more is out there?”

“You’re only listing the nicest parts of the fairy tales,” Harper said, looking up at him. He was so close to her, they were nearly touching. If she breathed in deeply, her chest would press against his. “What about the monsters?”