Breathless (21 page)

As if sensing my thoughts, Bastin released me. I stood before the prince of the mers, nothing more than a sil y girl. If only I could breathe underwater or fly us into the stars. But instead, I was no more special than a reed lost to the ocean, unable to choose my own direction, helpless to go where the currents pushed me.

“Something’s happened.” Bastin ran smooth fingers along my bare arms, and I was unable to surpass the shiver that fol owed. “What is it?”

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. I was afraid that if I said them they would cut up my tongue they way they’d cut my heart.

“Edith, please.” His voice cracked.

Seeing him upset tore the words from my throat. “They’re sending me away. And I don’t know . . .” I chocked down a sob and buried my head against his shoulder. “I don’t know how to let you go.”

Bastin sucked in a breath but said nothing.

After several minutes of deafening silence, I begged, “Please, Bastin. Say something.”

More agonizing seconds, and stil he stayed quiet.

Al of my attempts to keep from crying failed as the first tear spil ed from my eye, trailing down my cheek where it clung to my chin for just a moment before letting go.

Bastin reached out—faster than humanly possible—and snatched my tear out of the air. He stared unblinkingly at the shimmering drop balanced in the middle of his palm. Final y, he clenched his fist and dropped it to his side, groaning. “If I could, I would breathe you in.” He pul ed me against him and buried his head on top of mine, his hair fal ing around us like a curtain of stars. Sealing us inside of our own world—a world I would give anything to stay inside of forever.

“Please,” I whispered. My tears streamed down his chest. “Take me with you. Under.”

He shook his head. “You are asking me to kil you.”

“No.” More tears. A sob escaped my throat before I was ready. “I’m asking you to save me.”

He pul ed away and held me at arm’s length. “By crushing your spine? Condemning you to a life without sunlight and air? Never would I do that to you.”

“Don’t you think I’d rather have my spine crushed than my heart?”

Bastin closed his eyes pul ed me against him. “We were such fools.”

I clung to him with every ounce of my strength. “So what do we do?”

Bastin dipped his chin and I lifted my face. His lips met mine, but gone was the tentative brush of velvet. This time his kiss was hard and desperate, like a suicide note without the words. His mouth whispered of hope lost and love never ending.

I locked my arms around Bastin’s neck and he wove his fingers into my hair. We pul ed each other tighter, almost to the brink of pain. Bastin went to his knees and I fol owed him to the ground, never taking my lips from his, too scared to lose a second for fear that it would be our last. Careful y, Bastin leaned over me and laid me against the soft earth. Settling his weight between my legs, he propped himself up on his arms, shielding us behind a curtain of silver.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, tracing his thumb along the line from my ear to my chin. My eyelids fluttered under the wave of tremors that coursed along my skin. “I was told al my life that humans are ugly vicious creatures. But you have proved otherwise. You’ve changed everything . . .

you’ve changed me.”

If it wasn’t for the lingering taste of salt on my lips, I would have been sure I was dreaming. “You’ve changed me, too,” I whispered. “You brought me to life.”

He bent down, wrapping his arms around me, and kissed me. I drank him in, the sea, the night sky, and the moon, everything that made Bastin who he was. If only I could breathe him in entirely—hold on to him forever. Because if this moment was my last, it would be enough.

Bastin ran his hands down my sides and I shivered in response. He ventured under the edge of my T-shirt and brought a smal gasp from my throat when his hands moved up, tracing smal circles along my skin.

The wind across the bayou picked up, tangling our hair together as we kissed. From a far away place, I realized I should have been cold—but the warmth of him, the warmth of us, was a fire that consumed me.

In each other’s arms, we burned. Flames so hot that it’d felt like I’d died, only to be brought back to life by a backlash of white-hot flames that seared the blood in my veins. His pulse beat through his chest into my own until I couldn’t tel where the beating of my heart ended and his began.

Or, maybe, we’d shared one heartbeat al along.

When he final y pul ed his lips from mine, I breathed in and drank the scent of him.

“Edith,” he whispered as he settled himself next to me, “I—”

“Shhh.” I shook my head against the sandy ground. “You’l break it.”

“What?”

“The magic in the air.” I sighed. So fragile. Every moment hung in webs of crystal—destined to be broken under the weight of what lay ahead. “I just wish—”

“I do, too,” Bastin said, placing a kiss on my temple. “But it would never work.”

I knew that, of course. I just kept hoping there was some obvious answer that we hadn’t thought of, yet. I rol ed on my side so I could stare into his eyes. “So what was the point?”

“The point?” His eyes widened. “How can you ask that? Look what you’ve done to me, Edith. If it weren’t for you, I would have lived the same numb, miserable human-hating existence as the rest of my kind. I understand what it means to feel now—because of you.
That’s
the point.”

Tears pooled in my eyes and I blinked over and over again until I was sure they wouldn’t fal . “I just wish we had more time. After I leave . . . do you think we’l ever see each other again?”

He looked at the sky. “I don’t know.”

I laid my head against his chest, stil slick from sweat. “I’m afraid of what life wil be like without you.”

“It wil be ful of sun. Something I could never give you in the water.” He placed a finger under my chin and tilted my face to his, a sad smile on his lips. “You’l live, Edith. That’s al that matters.”

But he was wrong about the sun—I didn’t need it. Al the sun in the world wouldn’t stop a flower from dying—if it had no one to care for it.

***

When the sky turned the color of smoke, I trudged back to my room more aware than ever how truly alone I was. But, at least I
was.
Final y, in a state of being. Before I’d met Bastin, I’d been numb inside. Now pain ripped through me like talons. And despite it al , it was better this way. The hurting inside of me reminded me that I could final y
feel.
I was painful y aware of every ragged breath, every tear trailing down my face, and the deepening rip in my heart.

I pul ed the covers tight against me—a poor substitute for the arms that held me only an hour ago.

Bastin was gone.

And it was my fault. I’d wanted it too much. If I hadn’t been so selfish—if I could have just been happy with the way things were. But with only two years left until graduation, I had to screw it up by skipping school with Morgan. Now I’d lost everything.

I twisted my fingers into the blanket and buried my face in my pil ow, hoping to silence the sobs shuddering through my body. I cried until my tears ran dry and my chest ached from the tremors. So much pain. How was it that only a couple of hours ago I’d felt happier than I had in my entire life and now I was the most miserable?

As the morning sunlight crept into my room, I pul ed the covers over my head, hating the reminder of everything I couldn’t have. In three days, I would be on a bus bound for military school. If only I could convince Bastin to take me under. To make him understand that a life buried beneath the ocean had to be better than no life at al .

Chapter 27

When I opened my eyes, there was a peanut butter sandwich and a bag of chips on the nightstand. Now that I was about to be sent away, I guess it no longer mattered when I woke up. Stil , it bothered me that Mom hadn’t said a word to me since Sir pul ed me out of school.

But whatever. It wasn’t like she’d actual y stand up to him. I ripped the covers off and walked to my desk, where I grabbed the Dog of the Day calendar and threw it into the trashcan. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.

Next, I took the peanut butter sandwich and opened the sliding glass door so I could eat outside. What I hadn’t expected, however, was to find Morgan wandering around in the backyard, peering into the windows.

“What are you doing?”

Morgan jumped back and then sighed when she saw it was me. “Oh, thank God, Smal s. I had no idea which room they had in lockdown.” She looked around. “Is it safe?”

I nodded. “Sir’s at work and Mom’s avoiding me.” I sat on the wooden deck and took a bite of my sandwich. “He’s sending me away, you know.

My bus leaves Friday.”

She smiled. “That’s great!”

I stopped chewing. “How can you say that? I thought you were my friend.” I threw the sandwich in the yard, no longer hungry. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Morgan’s mouth dropped. “I’m insulted. I
am
your friend. That’s
why
I’m here.
Duh
. You know how prisoners are given a last meal before their execution?”

I nodded.

She grinned. “Wel , I’m giving you a last hurrah! We’re going to Orlando and we’re leaving Friday.”

“But my
bus
leaves Friday.”

She waved her hand. “Military school wil stil be here when we get back.”

“Yeah, and so wil a very pissed off Sir.”

Morgan rol ed her eyes. “Seriously? You’re worried about getting in trouble? They’re sending you away—what
more
can they do?”

She had a point. Stil , I wasn’t so sure skipping town was a good idea.

As if reading my mind, Morgan said, “The mers are down with it.”

That got my attention. “How do you know?”

A sly smile spread across her face. “Luna. She promised they would go last night.”

A knot of worry tugged at my insides. “You’ve been hanging out with her?”

“Yeah.” She leaned her head back and smiled at the sky.

I pul ed at a piece of grass that had poked it way through the deck and began shredding it in my lap. I didn’t like the fact that Morgan was involved with Luna. If something happened to her . . . “Morgan, you know Luna is dangerous, right?”

She looked at me, her smile widening. “
Oh, yeah.
”

Uh-oh. I went back to shredding. “Just be careful, okay? Hanging out with them, wel , just look how messed up my life got.”

The smile fel from her face. “I’m glad you brought that up. You’l never believe what I read in study hal yesterday.”

I brushed my hands together, scattering my grass confetti across the deck. “What?”

She shifted her weight so she could pul something out of her back pocket. “I Googled mermaids.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “And you found a bunch of sites devoted to cartoons?”

“Yes. But there was something else.” She handed me a folded piece of paper. “It’s a Japanese folktale.”

I made a face as I unfolded the paper. “I don’t see what a folktale has to do with me.”

“Oh, nothing . . . except everything!” She sighed loudly. “Just read it, already.”

I smoothed the paper on my lap, my pulse throbbing in my fingertips. I was so desperate for hope I was wil ing to latch on to anything even if it was just splotches of ink under my skin.

Morgan snatched the paper from my hands. “For crying out loud. I should have known you’d go into another emo trance. Why don’t I save us a couple of hours and tel you what it says?”

I folded my arms across my chest. “I was going to read it.”

“When? A week from now? ‘Cuz I’l tel you, Smal s, we don’t have that kind of time.”

I rol ed my eyes. “Fine. What does it say?”

She cleared her throat dramatical y. “Like I said, it’s a Japanese folktale. It’s about this fisherman who catches a mermaid in his net.”

I cringed. “Does he let her go?”

“Not exactly. You see, he takes her home and decides to cook her. Apparently he’s having a dinner party and didn’t have time to catch any other fish.”

“Oh, my God.” I pressed my fingers against my lips as if that action alone could keep down the bite of peanut butter sandwich now churning in my stomach. “That’s disgusting.”

“I know, right? And that’s what the dinner guests thought, too. Because one of them walked into the kitchen and found the mermaid laid out on the table. Afterwards, he hightailed it back to the dinner party, waited for the fisherman to go into the kitchen, and told everyone what was in the other room. So they’re total y grossed out, and instead of eating the mermaid, they hide the meat inside of their napkins.”

The sickly taste of bile burned the back of my tongue. “Seriously, I real y don’t like this story.”

Morgan held up her finger, motioning for me to hold on. “I swear there’s a point to this—I wouldn’t gross you out for nothing. Anyway, everyone parties and gets wasted. On their way home, they throw out the napkins with the hidden meat in them—except for one guy. By the time he left the party he was stupid drunk and had forgotten to take the napkin out of his pocket. So he stumbles his drunk ass home, but when he gets there his daughter is up waiting for him. He no sooner walks through the front door when she’s up on him, demanding a present.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. Where the heck was this going?

“This guy is total y shit-faced,” Morgan continued. “He wants nothing more than to shut the brat up, so he reaches into his pocket and pul s out the first thing he finds.”

I gasped. “The napkin!”

She nodded. “And the girl just gobbles it up.”

I hugged my stomach only to feel it gurgle angrily under my arms. “I thought you said this story had a point.”

“I’d get to it if you’d quit interrupting.”

I made a show of pretending to zip my lips shut.

“That’s better,” Morgan said. She looked at the paper in her lap. “The point is, after the girl eats the mermaid, she goes on to live a long healthy life.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Oh,” Morgan tapped her finger against her chin. “Did I forget to mention that when she final y dies she’s over five hundred years old?”