Wake (Watersong Novels) (23 page)

Daniel got up from the table and walked over to her. He stood in front of her and put his hands on her arms, but she wouldn’t look at him. She stared off at a point on the floor, crying.

“We saw him that day,” Harper went on. “The day he disappeared, at the picnic. And I just keep thinking, if I’d invited him to hang out with us, he’d still be alive. When I saw him, I was upset because everything was so awkward between us now. And he was a nice guy! If I’d just…”

She started sobbing then, her words getting drowned out by her tears. Daniel took the coffee mug from her hands and set it on the counter behind her. Then he reached out, and, almost tentatively, pulled her into his arms, hugging her.

“It’s not your fault,” Daniel told her as she cried into his shoulder. “You can’t save everybody, Harper.”

“Why not?” she asked, her words muffled.

“It’s just the way the world works.”

Harper allowed herself to cry for a little bit longer, feeling both grateful and ashamed at having Daniel’s arms around her. When she’d calmed down enough, she pulled away from him and wiped her eyes. He retracted his arms, but he stayed right in front of her, in case she needed him.

“Sorry,” she said, pressing her palms to her cheeks to dry the tears.

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“Well, you have no reason to be sorry. You’re not being a total freak.”

“Neither are you.” He brushed a lock back from her forehead, and she let him, but she wouldn’t look up at him.

“And I know you’re right. I mean, that it’s not my fault.” She sniffled. “But I just can’t stop thinking about that day at the picnic. I mean, we saw him that afternoon, and he went missing that night. If I’d just said,
Hey, why don’t you hang out with us?
instead of letting him go off with that girl…”

“You can’t beat yourself up like that. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“Yes, I should’ve.” Her eyes widened as she realized something, and she looked up at him. “The last time I saw Luke alive, he was going off with Lexi.”

“Who’s Lexi?” Daniel asked.

“One of those really pretty, creepy girls.”

“So he left the picnic with this Lexi girl, and then disappeared?” Daniel asked. “Did you tell the cops that?”

“No, I mean, yes.” She shook her head. “I told them what I knew, but that didn’t seem very important. He went home after the picnic and had supper with his parents. It’s after that that he left, then went missing. But he did go off with Lexi, for a little while.”

“You think that Lexi and Penn and that other girl are somehow involved with the murders? That’s what you’re suggesting?”

“I don’t know,” Harper said, then changed her mind. “Yes. I do. I think they’re connected.”

“At the risk of being accused of being a sexist pig, I’m going to say something—they’re just girls.” He took a small step back from Harper, as if he expected her to hit him, but she didn’t. “I get that it’s the new millennium and equal rights and girls can be serial killers just as well as boys. But those three girls don’t really look like they have the upper body strength to, you know, eviscerate somebody.”

“I know, but…” She furrowed her brow. “They’re evil, and they had something to do with it. I may not understand how yet, but I know it.”

Daniel watched her for a minute, thinking, then he nodded. “No. I believe you. Now what?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “But I’m not letting Gemma go anywhere near them again. I’ll tie her to the bed if I have to.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Where is Gemma?” Daniel asked.

“She’s over at Alex’s.” Harper gestured to his house next door. “She’s comforting him.”

“So we know she’s safe and taken care of?” Daniel asked, and she nodded. “Good. Then why don’t we do something that you want to do?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. What do you like to do?”

“Um…” Her stomach rumbled, since crying always made her hungry. “I like eating breakfast.”

“That’s so weird.” Daniel grinned. “Because I like making French toast.”

“That works out, doesn’t it?”

Together, Harper and Daniel made breakfast. Her dad came in when he smelled it cooking, and the three of them ate together. It could’ve been a little awkward, but it wasn’t. Daniel was respectful and funny, and Brian seemed to like him.

She knew that when Daniel left, her dad would be full of inquiries about the nature of their relationship that she wasn’t prepared to answer. But it was still worth it.

TWENTY-ONE

The Island

Being on the island brought back memories. It had been far too long since either Harper or her father had been out to visit Bernie McAllister, so when Brian invited her to tag along with him that afternoon, she happily accepted.

With Gemma still over at Alex’s, it was just the two of them, and that was a bit of a shame, since Gemma had always liked Bernie, too. Although, to be fair, Harper had never been that sure if it was the old man or if she really just loved the island.

Brian had borrowed a boat from a friend to get there, and he pulled up to Bernie’s dock, which was almost hidden among the bald cypress trees that grew out into the water. There was a narrow path to the boathouse, but otherwise the island was almost overgrown with cypress trees and loblolly pines. The trees towering above them were nearly taller than the island was wide.

“Oy!” Bernie shouted.

Harper shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight that managed to break through the foliage, but she couldn’t see Bernie anywhere.

“Bernie?” Brian asked. He climbed off the boat first, onto the dock, then helped his daughter do the same.

“I thought that was you coming ’round there,” Bernie said, and Harper finally spotted him trotting down the path and waving his hand. “I wasn’t expecting company today, but it’s a nice surprise.”

“I tried calling,” Brian said, “but the number didn’t work. Do you still have a phone out here?”

Bernie waved it off. “The storms were always taking it out, so I just got rid of it.”

“We aren’t intruding, are we?” Harper asked as she and her father walked down the dock to meet Bernie. “We don’t want to bother you.”

“Bother? Ha,” Bernie teased in his cockney English accent, “it’s never a bother getting a visit from a pretty girl such as yourself.” He winked at her then, making Harper laugh. “And your old man ain’t so bad, either.”

“So how have things been, Bernie?” Brian asked.

“Can’t complain, though I still do.” Bernie turned around to start leading them from the dock and gestured widely to the trees around them. “Come on. I’ll show you what I’ve done with the place. Things have changed since you’ve been here last.”

Nothing looked all that different to Harper as she followed Bernie up the worn path toward his house. Everything still smelled of pine and creeping Charlie, just the way she remembered it. As Bernie and her father talked about all the things they’d been up to over the last year or so, Harper wandered more slowly behind them, admiring the place from her childhood.

Since she’d been about twelve or so—the age at which her father started feeling safer about leaving her home alone in charge of Gemma—they’d come out to stay with Bernie less and less, but before that, it had been a home away from home.

Harper was certain that if she looked, she’d find the fort she and Gemma had built out of branches and old wood in the back, behind Bernie’s cabin. They’d secured it with nails and wood, and Bernie had promised to leave it for them always.

When they reached his cabin, she noted that it looked more worn than she remembered it, but it held up remarkably well for its age. Vines covered one side, with Bernie trimming them only around the windows.

As Bernie led them around to the back of the cabin, Harper finally discovered what the “big changes” were—he’d started a vegetable garden. A giant rosebush, covered in large violet blossoms, grew in the center. It was something his wife had planted just before she’d died, and until the vegetable garden, it was the only plant he really took care of.

“Wow, Bernie,” Brian said, a little stunned at the sheer numbers of tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers, carrots, radishes, and lettuce that Bernie had in his yard. The garden plot was nearly the size of his cabin.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Bernie smiled proudly. “I sell them at the farmers’ market. It helps supplement the ol’ retirement. You know how extravagant my life can be.”

“It is impressive,” Brian admitted, “but if you’re strapped for cash, you know—”

Bernie held up his hand, stopping him before he could say more. “I know you’ve got two girls to take care of, and I’ve never taken charity a day in my life.”

“I know.” Brian nodded. “But if you do ever need anything, you can always come to me.”

“Bah.” Bernie shook his head, then stepped into his garden, rubbing his hands together. “How would you like a rutabaga?”

While Brian and Bernie discussed what kinds of vegetables Brian would want to take home, Harper headed out toward the trees, hoping to get a glimpse of her old fort. Coming out here was like stepping into Terabithia.

Some of her best childhood memories involved her and Gemma running through those trees, usually because they were being chased by one make-believe monster or another. Almost always Gemma would be the one who turned around and faced the monster.

Harper would be the one to invent the games, explaining to Gemma in vivid detail what the hideous ogre might look like, and that the ogre wanted two young girls to grind up to make his bread.

But Gemma would always be the one who defeated the ogre, either with a stick that was really a magic sword or by throwing stones at it. She would only run for so long before she would stop and fight back.

As Harper passed through the trees, a breeze picked up, mixing the scent of the ocean with the pines. It also blew up a feather that had been hidden among the trees. When it drifted by Harper, she bent over and picked it up.

The feather was astonishingly large—several inches in width and well over two feet in length. It was a deep black color straight through, even the rachis running down the center.

“Ah, you found a feather!” Bernie said from behind her, and she turned back to look at him.

“You know what this is from?” Harper asked, holding it up so he could better see the peculiar feather.

“From a bloody big bird.” Bernie carefully made his way through his garden over to her. “But I don’t know what kind of bird it is. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen.”

“What does it look like?” Harper asked.

“I haven’t been able to get a real good look at it, but I can assure you, it’s huge.” He held his arms out as wide as he could to demonstrate. “The wingspan is twice as wide when I’ve seen it make a pass over the cabin. The sun was setting, and at first I thought it was plane, but the wings were flapping, and a feather came off.”

“I didn’t know we had birds that big out here,” Brian said, watching Bernie as he explained what he’d seen. “That sounds like a condor, maybe.”

“My eyesight’s not what it once was, I’ll admit that, but even the noises they make don’t sound right,” Bernie said. “I’ve heard them around the island, making all kinds of weird cackling sounds. At first I thought the seagulls had learned how to laugh, but then I realized that didn’t make much sense.”

“Maybe you’ve discovered some new species of bird,” Brian said with a smile. “They could name it Bernie’s Bird after you.”

“I dare to dream.” Bernie laughed.

He went back to picking vegetables in the garden, the feather forgotten, and Harper went over to help him. By the time they’d finished, Bernie’d had her fill a wheelbarrow full of produce he could take to the farmers’ market.

Brian and Harper stayed on a bit longer, sitting in the backyard and reminiscing about the past. Eventually, though, Bernie seemed to tire, so they excused themselves. Bernie walked them as far as the dock, and when they got on the boat, he stood waving at them for a long time after.

TWENTY-TWO

Confessions

As soon as Alex had told her that Luke was dead, Gemma had known the sirens had something to do with it. The first hour she’d spent with Alex after he’d told her, it had been hard for her to keep from vomiting. It had to have been Luke’s blood that she’d drunk, the blood of a mortal that Penn had used in the potion to turn Gemma into a siren.

When Alex explained to her where they’d found the body, it only confirmed her fears. That was why Thea had insisted they get out of there when the police started searching the woods by the bay.

Alex didn’t have the same suspicions as Gemma, of course. He tried to speculate on what had happened to Luke and the other boys, but he couldn’t even fathom it. Over and over, he’d stare, mystified, and ask, “Why would anyone want to do that to another human being?”

Gemma would just shake her head, because she truly didn’t know the answer. Her only hunch was that it hadn’t been another human that had done it—it had been a monster. She still didn’t understand completely what a siren was, but without a doubt, they were evil.

The one good thing about comforting Alex was that it didn’t give her much time to think about herself or worry whether or not she was evil. All her energy went into making sure Alex felt better and making him as happy as she could.

Other than when he’d initially told her about Luke’s death, Alex didn’t cry. Most of the time he just sat there, his jaw tense, his eyes faraway. Gemma stayed with him until very late on Friday and all day Saturday.

Late Saturday afternoon, his head was in her lap, and she was rubbing his back when he whispered, “I can’t stop seeing it. Every time I close my eyes, I see it.”

“What?” Gemma asked. “What do you see?”

Other than telling her that he’d found the bodies, Alex actually hadn’t said much about it. He refused to tell her any details, instead simply shaking his head whenever she pressed him for more information. Gemma didn’t even know how Luke had died or what had happened to him.

“I can’t.” His voice was tight. “I can’t even put it into words. It was most horrific thing I’ve ever seen.”