Lost Seraphine (The Seraphine Trilogy #2) (22 page)

The way the phrases come out make me think of syllables fading away on a gust of wind. Waves of something pulse out of my body, rippling through the water. The girls go hurling backwards in all directions, their hair tangling around their mermaid shaped bodies.

My body goes free, the seaweed falling away. I’m able to move now, so I take off, swimming toward Kyle. His body’s making fewer spasms now than it did before. The girls must’ve done the same thing for him that Gia did for me so many times before. They gave him the ability to breathe underwater longer than normal.

I wrap my arm around his neck and swim back toward the shore. Ticky leading the way. I have no idea how far we have to go.

Damn, he’s heavy.
I’m pretty sure my arms will fall off before we reach the shore.

After God only knows how long, my feet touch land. I shuffle both our bodies onto the shores, pulling Kyle’s body out of the water behind me.

“Ticky!” I call out, frantically searching the water around me. I find my lucky starfish drifting in the water a couple feet away from me. I lift him up and return him to the pouch attached to my waist.

As soon as the chill in the air slaps our wet suits, Kyle coughs and starts heaving. He’s not dead and I’m not surprised.

“You should’ve let them take me,” he says through gasping coughs. I’m stunned.

The sea people, including the undines Kyle heard, don’t like to be seen. According to Gia, the protocol involves taking the memory of people who find out about them. From the way Kyle’s glaring at me right now, I’d have to say he clearly remembers everything.

“Yeah, I know about you. Mermaid boy. Didn’t trust me enough to fill me in on your secret life, huh? Thought we were friends.” Kyle coughs up a wad of gunk and a lot of water.

“We are friends,” I confirm, attempting to help him stand. He smacks my hand away.

“Friends don’t keep secrets. Who the hell are you, man?” he asks, looking at me in a way that threatens to rip me apart with a single glance. At the same time, the way he’s talking to me ticks me off a bit, too.

“Let me see. I think I’m the dude who just saved your life.”

“Is that right? Those things under the water think something different,” he says, sitting up and moving back from me. “Told me all about you. They said you’re the reason the angel dude killed Shani. You and your
mermaid
girlfriend.”

“Not true and you know that. Come on, Kyle. It’s me... Caleb. Your best fuckin’ friend.”

“What’s going on? Tell me!” he yells.

I slump to the ground, feeling tired. Emotionally, physically and every other way you can imagine. Glancing at my friend, I say, “It all started when I was eight-years-old...” I fill him in on everything; the way I met Gia, how she saved me, the prophecy and why Paige suddenly turned up at the school pretending to be a family friend. I save the hardest part for last. The fact that my father is a man from a different world.

I don’t tell him about Thorne or that Erica and Gia might be sisters who are hell bent on beating the crap out of each other—over my affections, let me add—and in turn, destroying the world in the process. I also choose not to mention that Gia’s father is a mythological god who lives under the sea. Or that Erica’s dad is a crazy fallen angel who thinks he can use me to somehow break a treaty between the three groups of celestials.

Pretty simple stuff, right? Don’t think so!

“I knew it. She was right. You’ve been lying to me all this time.” He shuffles to his feet, turns around and starts walking away. I catch up to him, grabbing his arm.

Spinning around, he rears back, his fist poised, trembling and ready to strike. His face is a determined storm of rage with confusion and tears. I’ve never felt so crappy about anything I’ve done before this moment.

“I was going to tell you,” I explain, not bothering to ask who the ‘she’ is he’s referring to, since I already have a pretty good idea. I make a mental note to throttle Paige later on for messing around with my friend’s head. I should’ve known better than to trust her. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yeah? You mean, like Shani?”

“That’s not fair,” I answer.

“Life isn’t freakin’ fair!” Kyle yells.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Go tell that to Shani. But don’t worry, I’ll keep your little weirdo secrets. I always do.” He turns and starts trudging back toward the boathouse.

“Come on, Kyle. You don’t have a car. You’re soaking wet. At least let me drive you home,” I offer.

“No way! I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll walk,” he calls back over his shoulder without turning around to look at me, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened and why along
with when will I wake the freak up? If it doesn’t happen anytime soon, then how can I just die and get this all over with?

Gia

“There’s instability in the boy,” Mabry says to me, his voice firm and his hands cupped behind his back.

“What do you expect? His friends keep dying and he’s worried about his parents,” I remind him. “Maybe now you can tell me about the bracelet. And don’t give me that peace offering story again. You don’t do gifts and especially not for humans. Please tell me the truth.”

Inhaling deeply, Mabry lowers his head a moment and then he looks up, setting his tools and the strange helmet he was working on down on the table. He locks his steely gaze on me.

Ready or not, here comes the truth. Hope you can hang.

“The bracelet of Adoral Ponfret belonged to the man we all know as the Wanderer. It is passed down from father to son just before the child reaches his eighteenth birthday. The metal, niobium, creates a binding mechanism. Using the magic inside the relic, I was able to transfer my thoughts into Caleb’s dream. A sign of his maturation. I wasn’t for certain he was the son of the Wanderer; that was, until I felt the vibrations coming from the bracelet last night, confirming our theories.” He pauses and frowns, a worried look on his face, completely uncharacteristic of the stoic Alchemist.

“Why didn’t you explain all this a few nights ago?” I ask, wondering what Caleb did last night to set off Mabry’s supernatural alarm.

“I needed proof. The boy wasn’t ready,” he answers.

“Not true,” I say, hugging myself. Caleb has been waiting his entire life to hear those answers.

“As the supreme leader of the Royal order, it is my duty to pass the relic down to the next in line.”

“The next in line for what?” I whisper, not really wanting to hear Mabry’s answers, but realizing this will mean the world to Caleb.

“To become the one who will protect the land in between all three worlds. The Wanderer’s successor. His son, Caleb.”

“That can’t be right,” I say, but I know it’s true. The language Caleb spoke last night contained all the syllables of a hidden dialect, a language unknown to any of the celestial races.

The Silent Sea is the body of water that joins the three worlds; Bardonia, Aquardia and the Mirrorlands—our nickname for the human world. The area contains a body of water surrounding the Adoral Isle, the place where the seven Light Keepers live, each one a representative for either of the seven kingdoms inside Bardonia. Nothing or no one can cross the waters of the Silent Sea, not even a celestial, a sea dweller or a Greek god, unless a hooded man known as the ferryman voices his permission, removing the part of the veil that blocks the passageway.

“This must happen, Giancarella, or the prophecy will rage into full force,” Mabry confirms.

“If it hasn’t already,” I snap. “The Seer and the Dark Seraphine both have said it’s already happening.” I get another frown. I can tell he’s worried about the same thing.

“That may be true, but Caleb holds the power to decide the way the prophecy will end, I’m afraid.”

Does he know how badly his words are killing me?

“No.” I shake my head. Mabry’s words sting unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. This human bod
y—
this terrible handicap of min
e—
weakens me, so I can’t think straight.

The Seers words make sense now. Find your mother, you find the Wanderer. “Caleb’s father is the man who watches over the Silent Sea in Bardonia. Mother’s group, the Light Keepers, live on the island on the other side. “No. That means Caleb is a...” I gasp, unable to complete the sentence, hoping that at some point the world will stop spinning me around on its ruthless wheel of torture.

“Yes, his father is a celestial, a Ferryman, those who are assigned to protect us from ourselves. In five years, Caleb will be compelled to take his father’s place,” Mabry says as though he’s explaining a new lesson instead of breaking my heart. “You must let him go, Giancarella.”

“No!” I hiss, my fists clenched, every muscle in my body on guard. There’s a way to stop this. I know it.

“It has always been this way, since the beginning of time when the first Ferryman was assigned to his post.”

“I won’t do it. I can’t,” I repeat, my voice cracking and my eyes blurring with tears.
Curse the damn things.
“I love him. You’re lying. My father put you up to this.”

“Your father does not know the Wanderer’s true identity. He would never have allowed his daughter to become the mate of a condemned man’s son. By the time I was assigned to this case, the sea king had already taken your ability to Change.” He takes a step toward me as though he might actually try to comfort me.

I find myself wondering if someone like Mabry ever shows affection. Most older women would consider him handsome; a sculpted face, high cheekbones, a model’s pout. Has he ever been touched by a woman? Does he know what it feels like to kiss someone? Has he ever lost anyone or fallen in love? Obviously, not. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to break me.

“Keeping the identity of the Wanderer and his descendants a secret has been a protection mechanism, infallible throughout the ages. Up until now. Somehow, Bernael discovered the identity of Aaron Kingsley’s mate. He has even managed to mark the child. This twist changes everything.”

“Oh, that’s right. Only the big, badass TriGate alchemists know stuff like this. Things to rip people’s lives apart. How do you even live with yourselves?” I’m losing it, yes, however I won’t let the damn tears fall. Not this time. “We’ll find Caleb’s father and somehow stop all this.”

“Impossible,” Mabry blurts.

“Love makes anything possible, Alchemist. That’s not in your books, though, so you wouldn’t understand.” I stare him down, my words renewing my strength. For the first time since we met, Mabry falls silent.

Principal
Armstrong and two members of his crew rush into the living room, stopping when their gazes drift over to where Mabry and I are standing. Cori shoves in between the Principal and our school nurse.

“I tried to keep them out. So rude,” she scoffs and glances at me. “You all right, Princess G?” I nod.

“Our kids keep disappearing. We’re here to help in any way we can,” Principal Armstrong announces. “You and your fledglings aren’t alone,” he says to Mabry, but he’s looking at me, doing the creepy staring thing again. As though he senses my unease with the way he’s checking me out, the Principal diverts his attention back to Mabry. I wipe away the trace of tears threatening to fall.

Mabry lowers his head a short moment before speaking to himself and then presses his lips together. He’s regrouping his thoughts, centering his energy, reaching into that calm part of his mind he always tells me I need to learn how to use. After what I just heard about Caleb, I’ll never be cool and composed again.

“What’s going on?” I ask, confused.

“The Fallen have been planning a coup of sorts,” Mabry says to me and then turns to the Principal. “Do we have a target yet?”

“We do,” Principal Armstrong answers. “Tonight Bernael and his minions will hit the boy’s house.”

“Oh no. I need to warn Caleb.” I shove past
Armstrong and head for the front door, ignoring Mabry calling out for me to stop as I rush out of it and head toward my car.

Caleb

Newscasters amaze me.

They can sit there and recite the new
s—
no matter how good or ba
d—
and never break a smile, flinch, stand up or start yelling about the crappy situation they just finished describing. One day, I’ll be calm and collected that way.

Yeah, right. Don’t think that’ll be happening anytime soon.

The reporter with the bland voice, big hair and puffy eyes—a woman who looks like she could use a good night’s sleep—holds me and my mom in her spell as she describes the way cities around the world have been reporting the same things; black gunk washing up on the shores, strange out-of-season tornados, missing family members.

As soon as the newscaster’s done talking, Mom clicks the red button on the remote control and sits there with her face buried in her hands. Now’s as good a time as any to talk about the dreams and the little problem of me being promised to the maniac who’s probably the cause of the things we’ve just seen on the T.V.

A long moment passes where neither one of us moves or speaks. She stands up without looking at me and heads straight into the kitchen. I hear the refrigerator door slam and then the clang of a salad bowl hitting the countertop.

Trudging back into the living room, she plops down on the couch, surprisingly—eating in the living room is one of the seven deadly sins in this house—and pretty much begins inhaling her food.

She has plowed through almost two gallons of fruit and ate salads every single night, things she does when she’s suffering from an upset stomach. Plus, Darren’s secret projec
t—
a special kind of fence the city engineers are constructin
g—
takes up most of his time. That leaves me to deal with a nerve-racked mom and the yoga ladies.

“I think you should tell Darren,” I begin.

“Tell
your father
about what?” She keeps eating and staring at her salad.

“About me. Us. My real dad,” I answer. Mom’s shaking her head. I’ve been trying to get her to tell my stepdad about what’s going on. No luck. It’s kind of like trying to get a two-year-old to give up her lollipop.

“What purpose would that serve? I already have to...” her sentence drifts off as she lowers her eyes.

“Go ahead. Finish the sentence. You already have to worry about the deal you made with the head fallen dude. Am I right?”

Glancing up at me, she gives me a sad look. I don’t need to hear her answer to know I’m right. “How did you find out?”

“Same as I did everything else. Trial and error,” I answer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What was I supposed to say? How do you tell your child something so awful? It was hard enough for you to hear about your father.” Setting the bowl down, she crosses her hands in her lap and starts massaging her knuckles.

“Thought we agreed to be straight up with each other.”

“Mashu has gone to meet with someone who can help. A medicine man. This particular person knows how to remove hexes and things. I was hoping for a little more time.”

My Uncle has been M.I.A. for weeks. Now, I get why she’s continuing to try to hide things, but still, it doesn’t make me feel any better about the situation.

“This keeping secrets shit is driving me freakin’ insane,” I blurt before I can stop myself.

“Apologize, now,” Darren says from beside the stairway, his voice thundering through the room. I don’t even know how long he’s been standing there. He steps into the living room and walks over to where I stand, fuming. “Did you hear what I said?”

Soiree suna! Soiree Suna!

I squeeze my eyes shut and ground the negativity that gives these damn whispers in my head the juice they need to do things like creating tornados and turning rocks into dust.

No big deal, right?

The two sides of me are at war with each other. I’m not sure the good side’s doing so well, either.

The bracelet Mabry gave me tightens around my arm, stinging the crap out of my skin, but still giving me a welcome diversion from the anger brewing inside me. I open my eyes and say, “Sorry, Mom.” The thing around my arm, a reminder that my life is no longer my own, loosens on my wrist.

With a savage look on his face, Darren moves closer to me. “If I catch you speaking to your mother that way again, I’ll turn you across my knee and beat the life out of you myself.”

“Darren!” Mom calls out.

“No, Mom. Let
King Darren
speak.” My gaze locks on my stepfather’s with my heart thrashing inside my chest.

“I know there’s something off about you. I’ve always known it,” he begins, his words surprising me into silence. Even Mom is frowning as she shuffles to her feet. “It’s in the way you talk in your sleep; jibber jabbering in a language I’ve never heard before. Those times I caught you talking to God knows what in your room. I realize there’s more going on than you think. Both of you.” He pauses a moment and steals a quick glance at Mom. “I will protect my family, no matter what.” He moves over to Mom and places his arm across her shoulder, pulling her closer to him.

“You think you know so much. Then what if you can’t protect Mom?” I ask. Darren flinches.

“What kind of man can’t protect his family?” he asks with confidence. I know I’m hurting his feelings and I don’t want to do that, but this isn’t some bully at school threatening to kick my ass or a yoga lady complaining about Mom’s choice of technique.

The man, or rather the thing, that’s stalking us wants to take me away from my parents for reasons no one can explain. And he’ll plow through anyone to reach his goal... me.

Mom and I exchange glances. I wonder if keeping my dad—no wait, my stepda
d—
out of this circle of horrors will turn out to be a good idea.

“I’m taking my wife out. Going to show her a good time,” he says in a factual tone.

“What? No boring conferences tonight? Don’t intend to leave her hanging while you play the overachiever role? That’s different.” I’m angry, confused. Sarcasm is the cure.

“Caleb, please,” Mom begs. I back down. Darren means well. So does Mom. However she has no clue about how much of my life she placed in Bernael’s hands the day she thought she was saving me.

Finding my real father will solve these issues. I know it.

We’ll figure out what really happened to Shani and then Kyle will find some peace. Gia can stop torturing herself over Raze’s death. Thorne’s death wouldn’t have been a senseless tragedy ‘cause Erica could go back to wherever she came from and stop hurting the people who go against her.

I will never believe she and Gia are sisters. Not even the threat of a Clint Eastwood style cowboy branding can make me accept that. Yep, finding the Wandere
r—
aka my da
d—
would help things return to normal.

Kid yourself all you want, Wood. There’s nothing that’ll be going back to the way it was anytime soon.

* * *

I retreat to my room, feeling conflicted. I don’t turn on House of the Rising Sun this time. I think that song might be what’s causing the weirdo dreams. Instead, I pick a hard rock tune by Aerosmith, something to drown out my thoughts.

The natural disasters and unexplained disappearances are related to Mom’s deal with the Angel of Chaos. I know it.

My real father is the key. I have no clue about where to look. I’m lost, confused, hungry and broke. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention my friend still won’t talk to me. That hurts more than anything else going on right now.

The Aerosmith song ends. I turn off the speakers, preferring a moment of silence. Creaks echo just outside my doorway, the tell-tale signs that someone’s coming up the stairs and approaching my room. I can feel her presence even before she walks through the door. It’s Gia.

“Your parents told me to let myself in. Looks like they’re heading out,” she says as she walks through the door and moves over to the bed, plopping down beside me. Her floral scent fills my nostrils, calming me. I could never get enough of inhaling her fragrance. Funny how something so simple drives me crazy that way.

“You all right?” she asks, moving the hairs already growing back over my ears behind them.

Not really.
“Yeah, sure.”

She narrows her eyes. “No you’re not.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Talk to me.”

“I confronted my mom about the marriage bargain she made for me.”

“Didn’t go so well, I take it?”

“Not really,” I answer. I seriously need a subject-change here. “Why do you think Poseidon won’t let you go home?” The words rush out of my mouth.

I know. Me questioning Gia makes it seem like I’m doubting her again. I seem to be putting more faith in the words of a girl who claims to be a demon, yet the question she asked me the night Shani disappeared haunts my thoughts.

“I’m not sure.” She lowers her head. I can tell she’s been thinking about it, though, probably even more than me.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda weird he sent Mel’s sister back to protect me?”

Gia takes so long to answer that I begin to think she’s not going to say anything. “My father let me come back because he knows how I feel about you.”

“I know that’s what he told you, but you’re the heir to his kingdom. It doesn’t make any sense that he’d just send you away and not let you come back.”

“Erica said something, didn’t she?”
Guilty.
I don’t answer. Instead, I glance at the floor. Pizza stains I forgot to clean up are standing out against my beige carpet. “Caleb, look at me. We’ve come so far. Don’t let her get in the way again.”

I scoff a light laugh. “Trust me. Erica can’t do anything I don’t want her to do.” Can’t she, though? She is the daughter of a woman that can haunt people’s dreams.

“Don’t under estimate the Dark Seraphine.” Gia’s eyes plead with me. I need to keep my fat mouth shut, but I don’t.

“She’s connected to you, though. I don’t know. Maybe that’s why your dad made Paige my bodyguard.”
Real smooth, Wood.
I want to eat the words.

Gia flinches. “Wow, Caleb. Speak your mind, won’t you?”

“I’m a pure ass. I know.”

“But it’s a cute one, so you’re excused.” She beams a smile that fires up every thread of my soul and burns each fiber up one by one.

I pull her into my arms, holding her tight. She’s right. Sometimes I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with my thoughts. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I should stop thinking. Period.

The touch of her lips on mine sends a stab of heat through me, making me feel dizzy. As I lay her back on my bed, she doesn’t protest. “I need you so much,” I say, wanting her to feel exactly what I mean.

“I need you, too, Caleb,” she whispers, her eyes a misted veil of mystery, shielding the soul of the fragile girl clinging to me.

I kiss her again, harder, and then softer; a teasing hint of the emotions flowing through my body as they punch me in the gut and swirl down my abdomen, leaving me caught up in the grip of a moan. My hands slide under her tee shirt. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m thinking, she’s going to lift up and smack the crap out of me for doing something like this. She doesn’t. Instead, she lets out a shaky gasp, her gorgeous face twisted in the pleasure she’s feeling.

“Caleb, there’s something else I need to tell you,” she whispers in my ear.

“Later. I cannot handle anymore talking,” I answer, increasing the intensity of our kisses.

I’m lost in sounds and sensations of Gia when someone outside the house starts arguing. “You must be kidding me?” I say between our kisses.

“Who is that?” Gia turns her head toward the window.

“Someone I intend to hang.” I kiss Gia again and push up on my hands, lifting my body off hers. We stand and straighten up our clothing, kiss each other again and then head downstairs and toward the front door. It doesn’t take long to figure out the muffled voices belong to Kyle and Paige.

Stepping outside the door, I find an angry Kyle pacing back and forth in the driveway and a disheveled Paige who looks like she forgot to finish blow drying her hair before leaving wherever she disappears to each evening. I take a few moments to watch my friend—the gun expert—and my bodyguard—the hot tempered red-head—argue for a short moment.

“There you are,” Paige says, stomping over to meet me. “I tried to do what you said, but Mr. Deathwish in the flesh thinks he can walk out in front of cars without getting smashed. You didn’t tell me he was suicidal and dumb.” Paige glares at Kyle who gives me a confused look.

“Listen up, babe. I did that crap on purpose,” he begins. “You were the one stupid enough to follow me.”

“Keep running that trap for a mouth and so help me...” Paige narrows her eyes and shakes a fist at Kyle. Right. I guess putting the two of them together wasn’t such a great idea.

“You sent Bram Stoker’s wife to watch over me? Is that why she keeps following me around?” he asks, his hands out to the side and his face all screwed up. “Why’d you do that? I don’t need another mom and I most definitely don’t need some supernatural freak watching over me.”