Breathless (28 page)

“Where does that leave us now?” I asked.

His jaw tightened, and I knew before he said anything that he had more bad news. “What is it, Bastin?”

He cupped my face in his hands, staring at me so intently I wanted to flinch. “I need you to run, Edith. You must go to the mountains, where you wil be safe. My kind cannot survive high elevations. The thinner levels of oxygen make it difficult to breathe—even with water. There wil be others looking for you. You need to go where other mers won’t find you. Even though you live, nicite remains inside of you. Your blood makes you a walking weapon against your own kind.”

A walking weapon?
It was as if his words had become a tangible force the moment they left his mouth. A fist that repeatedly slammed into my stomach. There was no way to recover. When I could final y talk, several moments later, I asked, “What does that even mean?”

He sighed. “There are mer tribes that wil seek you out for the same reason we were attacked today—for the nicite. Only now, it’s your blood they would use to flood the earth. You could destroy the world.”

There was nowhere for me to go. I wasn’t safe in the ocean. I wasn’t safe on land. I wanted to curl inside of myself and die—only, now, that wouldn’t happen for a very
very
long time. “I can’t handle this, Bastin. How could you think I’d be able to?”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. “Because you are stronger than you think, Edith.”

I pul ed away from him, and as his fingers fel from my back, I was aware that was the last time I would ever feel them on my skin. “What am I supposed to do? Sir plans to send me to a military school.”

Bastin shook his head, silver hair spil ing over his shoulders. “No, Edith. You can’t al ow that to happen. Run if you have to. You’re not safe here.

You wil never be safe by the water again.” He turned to the sky. “I hear the mountains are beautiful. You’l be safe there.”

I’d experienced a lifetime of hurt and betrayal in a single day. The result had ripped out my heart, stomped on it, and shoved it back inside my chest bleeding and broken. Careful y, I stood. “I guess this is goodbye?”

He nodded. “It wil be safer for you if you never see me again.”

I didn’t know what to say. I loved him. I should have started there. Then, I should have told him that despite everything he’d done to me, despite the lies, the poisoning, and his blood, that I always would. But I didn’t say those things. Instead, I turned and walked away. Behind me I heard a splash.

I walked the path to my house. I couldn’t real y cal it home. When you broke it down, it was nothing more than a wooden frame, vinyl siding, and a room. Love made a house a home, love and family. Neither of those things waited for me.

As I maneuvered through the trees in the dark, I couldn’t help but wonder how mad Sir was. Bastin had warned me to run away, but that was impossible. I had no money, no food, and I wasn’t even wearing shoes My best bet was to face Sir and accept my punishment. I’d go to military school, then probably attend a military university. And after that? I’d serve my country as a member of the armed forces. As far as I could see, there was no way to break free. It was the beginning of the end.

I paused, just for a moment, enjoying the warm night air as it lifted my hair across my face. This was my last my last moment of freedom, and no matter how much I wanted it to, I couldn’t make it last forever. But I could take my time. I had no doubt Sir would be waiting for me when I returned.

So I walked, my footsteps getting heavier with each passing step. As if it wasn’t underbrush I was pushing through but a marshy swamp thick with sludge.

When I arrived into the clearing of my backyard, every light in the house blazed. I didn’t pause. Straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin, I marched forward. I wouldn’t cower, or worse, cry. I had spent the day getting ripped apart and put back together, having everything taken from me, including my heart. There was nothing Sir could do to hurt me now. I’d tangled with the gator. Now it was time to tangle with Sir.

My bedroom door slid open before I had a chance to grasp the handle. Sir’s eyes blazed, the veins within so enlarged, his eyes held a reddish tint. I heard a crunching sound and it took me a moment to realize it was his teeth being ground together. “Where the hel have you been?” His voice was low, and dangerous.

Despite the overwhelming urge to shrink under his gaze, I took a step forward. “Out.” I answered, finding that I no longer cared how pissed off I made him. In fact, I almost took pleasure at the sight of the scarlet that flushed his face.

“Have you forgotten who you are talking to?”

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But you have. Let me remind you—you’re my
father
.”

His mouth dropped. Never in the thirteen years after Wil iam’s death had I been al owed to cal him anything but Sir. The title felt like his way of distancing us—but I was done with it. I was done with everything.

“Yes,” he stammered. “Wel , with that title comes a certain level of respect. Obedience. None of which you’ve shown me as of late.”

“That’s bul shit.
‘Father’
is not a title. It’s a duty. And with
that
comes a certain obligation and understanding. None of which you’ve
ever
shown me.”

His eyes looked dangerously close to popping out. “Excuse me?”

I shook my head. “No. There is no excuse. Not for the way you’ve treated me for the last thirteen years—since Wil iam died.”

He paled and took a step back.

I took another step forward. “And, it would seem, my father died that day, too. Replaced by this”—I gestured to him—“this dril sergeant. I’m not one of your troops,
sir.
I’m a teenage girl who’s spent the last thirteen years trying to live up to your unobtainable standards, trying to gain your approval, trying to win your
love.
” I spit out the last word as if it left a bad taste on my tongue. “And what did al that trying get me? That.” I pointed to the suitcase of my bed. “So, fuck it al , I just can’t do it anymore.”

I climbed the steps into my pink room and stood before him clenching my fists. I was dizzy from the release of words I’d kept bottled inside. I was so angry, but so elated. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh out loud or cuss at him some more. It no longer mattered that I was going to military school.

Sir knew how I felt, he knew I thought he was a terrible father, and with that I could make my peace.

I counted ten eye blinks before the shock melted from Sir’s face and was replaced by a viper’s steely gaze. “Don’t you dare say his name to me.”

Now it was my turn to look surprised. After everything that I’d said to him, that was the only thing that had registered? “Wil iam?” I asked.

“Yes, Wil iam.” His eyes bulged from their sockets. “You have no right to say his name. If you’d listened to me, if you’d stayed in the backyard like I directed, he’d stil be alive.” He grimaced in such a way that I knew he was reliving Wil iam’s final moments in his mind.

It was true that Wil iam would never have been in the driveway if he hadn’t been chasing me. But something else was true, too. Keeping my words calm and even, which was the complete opposite of how I felt, I said, “I wasn’t the one driving the truck.”

I’d expected Sir to get angry. I didn’t expect the confused look on his face as he stared at me, as if seeing me for the first time. Then his shoulders slumped.

“He had your eyes,” he said.

Stunned, I took a step back. That was not the response I expected and it scared me more than if he’d yel ed.

“And every day,” Sir continued, “I have to see him looking at me through your eyes. Always accusing, always reminding me of what I’d done.”

Smal tremors vibrated along his body.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It was as if I’d been hit in the gut. Al these years I’d assumed Sir was punishing me because for Wil iam’s death. But the truth was that Sir was punishing me for his own guilt.

As if sensing my thoughts, Sir’s face softened. The transformation of expression from his usual stone-eyed gaze into something almost apologetic was terrifying to watch. “Now you see why you have to go,” he said. “It’s because I’m weak.”

So there it was. He’d more or less admitted his guilt, but at the same time, it didn’t change anything between us. And while it hurt to have the finality of our relationship spoken out loud, at the same time I felt the constraints of guilt laced around my heart loosen. Sir had accepted the blame.

It was al I was going to get—but it was enough.

With my suitcase in tow, I marched around him and opened my bedroom door, so ready to leave this house with its sliding glass door and tree-lined paths that lead down to a dock on the edge of a bayou. It was time to move on.

The only problem was, Mom stood in the doorway, blocking my path. Surprised, I dropped the suitcase. There was something different about her, something in her eyes, a spark of some kind. She placed her hands on her hips, her lips drawn tight.

“Carol?” Sir’s question held the edge of a threat. Al traces of vulnerability on his face were gone, replaced with an expression hard enough to cut through stone. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Her mouth twitched and she brought her hands together, as if she might reach for her wedding ring. But before she could grab it, she bal ed her fingers into fists and shook her head, letting out a frustrated cry.

Sir and I froze in place. For me, it had been mid-breath. We were definitely in unfamiliar territory.

“Michael, I’ve let you bul y this family for far too long. Enough is enough. I’ve lost one child already because of you . . . I’m not about to lose another.”

Sir’s mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come. I knew how he felt. Shock jolted through my spine like an electric current. Who was this person and what had she done with my mother?

She reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Oh, Edi-girl. I’m more sorry than you’l ever know.”

Every unfair judgment I’d ever passed off on her flashed through my mind—and I took them al back. Because the woman who stood before me radiated a fierceness that prickled my skin. This woman, the one with her hands bal ed into fists and her jaw clenched in a determined line, was my mom. Something tight crushed my chest hard enough to spring tears to my eyes. God, I’d missed her so much.

“Carol, you know this isn’t working,” Sir said, but his voice wavered uncertainly. After years of dictating orders to my mom, arguing with her was definitely new territory for him. “We talked about this. We agreed it was the right thing to do.”

“No, Michael.” Mom released my shoulder and pushed me behind her. “We didn’t talk—
you
talked. And I listened, quiet, like I always did. But I won’t be quiet anymore.”

Holy hel in a hand-basket. I had to swal ow my heart, which had leapt to the back of my throat.

Mom continued. “Edith is right. There is no excuse for the way you’ve ordered us al around, treating us like your troops instead of your family. For Christ’s sake, Michael, this is your daughter standing here with a suitcase in her hands because you can’t come to terms with your own guilt. That’s not Edith’s problem—it’s
yours.
And I won’t let you send her to a military academy because of it. I’m not about to let her become you.”

Sir did something else I’d never seen him do before this moment—he flinched. “So what do you propose we do, Carol? You can’t ignore the fact that Edith has been lying, skipping school, and sneaking out of the house. Who knows what she’s been doing with her little freak friend. Drinking?

Drugs? Do you real y want to sit back and do nothing?”

“No.” She looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with me, studying, as if she was real y seeing me for the first time. “You’re right about one thing—Edith has been acting out. But I hardly think it’s al her fault. I’ve realized something recently . . .” She sighed and shifted her gaze to Sir. “You two are not good for each other. That’s why I cal ed my sister.”

Aunt Margie? My breath caught in my throat at the mention of her name. And, while I loved her and missed her, I didn’t understand how she could help the situation.

Mom turned to me and squeezed me tight, fil ing my nose with her English rose perfume. “I told Aunt Margie everything, Edi-girl. She wants you to come and stay with her until
your father
and I sort things out.”

My head spun in a cloud of roses and sea salt. In a matter of minutes my life had changed course again.

Mom smoothed the hair along my face and tucked it behind my ears like she had ever since I was little. “You’re going to love staying with Aunt Margie. I know she’s older and a bit . . .
unique
, but I think she can give you the attention you’ve been craving. Besides,” she stuck a finger under my chin and tilted my head to meet her gaze, “you haven’t done wel here. You seem paler. I don’t think the ocean is good for you, Edi. I think the mountain air is exactly what you need.”

“Mountains?” My knees buckled and I leaned against Mom for support. In al of the chaos, I’d completely forgotten that Aunt Margie lived in The Smokies. Way up high.

She smiled. “In Gatlinburg.”

I nodded, too stunned to talk. So far, in the course of twenty-four hours, I’d been stabbed, poisoned, almost died, cursed, lost the love of my life, narrowly avoided military school, and now was on my way to Tennessee.

“This is ridiculous.” Sir threw his hands in the air. “Your sister has no experience with children—let alone delinquents. Not to mention, I think she’s not right in the head. What makes you think she can handle Edith?”

Mom smiled. “Because, Michael, she’s not
you.
”

I stepped off the bus at the Gatlinburg station. Mom was right about one thing—the air
was
different here. It smel ed wet, but nothing like the ocean. The scent was a mixture of leaves, dew, and the damp underside of a rock.

I weaved my way through the crowd of people swarming the sidewalks of an outdoor mal . Not realizing what a tourist attraction Gatlinburg was, I was initial y surprised to see so many people. I wondered how I would ever find Aunt Margie in the crowd of sticky-fingered kids, bikers, and senior citizens wearing socks with their sandals.