Tempest Unleashed (29 page)

Chapter 24

“Tempest?”

“Yes, baby?” I leaned over and smoothed Moku’s hair back from his face. It was the middle of the night and he was having trouble sleeping, drifting in and out of awareness.

After he’d woken up from the coma yesterday, the doctors had run about a billion tests. They were all shocked at Moku’s incredible recovery. When all the results came back, Moku was pronounced healthy, yet they hadn’t been quite ready to release him, seeing as how he’d been in a coma many of them had begun to consider unrecoverable.

So he’d been downgraded, put in a regular hospital room for forty-eight hours, and if he had no relapses, we would be able to take him home. We were about thirty-six hours into that forty-eight-hour stretch and I’m not sure which one of us was more anxious. My dad had wanted to send me home and spend the night himself, but from the moment he’d woken up, Moku had not wanted me out of his sight.

Which was okay with me, as I felt exactly the same way.

We’d played games, eaten pizza and ice cream delivered by Mark, played a new Pokémon game (also from Mark) on Moku’s DS, watched enough TV to burn my retinas, and basically had as good a time together as we could manage with him in a hospital bed. The nurses had even let me take him out to play basketball a little bit this evening. I’d hoped it would tire him out enough that he could sleep, but he kept having nightmares. Whether from the MRI and all the other tests they’d run or from his near-drowning experience, I didn’t know.

“Are you going to leave again?” he asked, his voice tinier than I had ever heard it.

“No, sweetie. I’m not leaving this room until you get to come home with me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. Right.” I sighed. “I don’t know how long I’m going to stay, Moku.”

“So you
are
leaving again?”

“Eventually, yes.”

His lower lip poked out just a little and tears filled his eyes. He tried to blink them back, but that only made me feel worse.

“Don’t go. Please. Everything’s awful when you’re not here.”

As I reached for his hand, guilt was a suffocating weight on my chest, pressing down a little harder with each tear that rolled slowly down his cheeks.

“Oh, baby, I wish I could stay forever.”

“Why don’t you? No one is making you be mermaid.”

I laid my head down on the bed next to him, tried to think of a way to explain things so that he would understand. Which was pretty much impossible, as half the time
I
didn’t even understand the life I was living or the choices I had made.

“You’re right,” I finally told him. “No one made me be mermaid. But that doesn’t mean that people don’t need me or depend on me now that I am. If I stay here, who’s going to help them?”

“If you leave, who’s going to help me do my homework? I’m going to have really hard homework this year because I’m in third grade. Dad’s always busy and Rio’s mad all the time. He says really mean things and if you don’t stay, he’s going to think all those things are true.”

“Baby, Rio’s just upset at the world right now,” I said, and while it was true, I still had an overwhelming urge to kick Rio’s ass. He could be as big a jerk to me as he wanted, but he needed to lay off Moku. It made me sad to realize things between them were worse than ever.

“No, he’s just mad at you. I don’t want him to be mad at you anymore.”

“Moku, sweetie, it’s not that easy. Even if I came back for good, things would be different than they used to be.”

“They don’t have to!”

How sick was it that even as I was trying to convince Moku that I couldn’t go back, not really, I was halfway wishing I could? My life would be a million times easier if I didn’t know about Tiamat or Hailana or my mother’s relationship with both of them. If I’d never heard of that stupid prophecy or learned of the power I could wield.

The idea wasn’t a revelation to me, but for the first time since I became mermaid I really thought about it. If I could change everything—if I could wave a magic wand and have everything about these last eight and a half months disappear—would I?

Would I give up being mermaid?

Give up knowing what really happened to my mother?

Give up Kona?

If it meant keeping my family safe and together, would I really be willing to give up all the good things that I’d gained?

It was the million-dollar question—one I didn’t have an answer to. Not now. Not anymore.

Before I could say anything else to Moku, there was a knock on the door and I grabbed on to it like the lifeline it was. “Come in!” I called brightly, rushing over in case the nurse decided to come back later. The last thing I needed right now was to be left alone with Moku and more of his questions—if things kept going at the rate they were, I’d end up a basket case before the night was done.

But it wasn’t the night nurse on the other side of the door. It was Kona.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed as I urged him inside. “You’ll get us in trouble—no visitors after eleven o’clock!”

“You’re here,” he said casually.

“Because I’m spending the night. But everyone else had to go home, even my dad. Only one person is allowed to be here after visiting hours!”

“Come on, let me stay. I promise I’ll hide when the nurse comes to do his vitals.” He flashed his crooked grin and I was lost—he knew it too. With a rub of my arm, he squeezed through the partially open doorway and headed straight for Moku.

“Kona!” Moku said, nearly bouncing out of bed. He’d decided Kona was okay earlier in the day when he’d brought him the world’s biggest ice cream sundae. “Did you get ice cream?”

Kona laughed, warm and deep and real. “No, no ice cream. But I did bring this.” He held up a bag from the local bookstore.

Moku’s enthusiasm visibly waned. He had dyslexia, so reading had always been a problem for him. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Go ahead and open it—it’s not what you think.”

Warily, Moku opened the bag, then squealed when he saw a sketchbook, colored pens and markers, and three how-to drawing books. One was on sharks and other ocean creatures, another was on dinosaurs, and the third was favorite cartoon characters.

Moku was in heaven—my little brother loved to draw even more than I did. He opened the shark book and dived right in, drawing a pretty good rendition of a huge hammerhead shark.

“How did you know he liked to draw?” I murmured to Kona.

“I’ve seen your artwork, and Cecily’s. So I took a shot.”

He pulled the second chair in the room over to where I was sitting, then, once settled, wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I sank into him, grateful some of the tension between us had dissipated in the last couple of days.

“I missed you,” he said softly, his fingers playing through the tips of my hair where it met my shoulders.

“Me too.” I kissed his cheek before laying my head on his shoulder. “Thank you for getting Zarek.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I’m indebted to you. I always will be.”

“Why?”

I stared at him incredulously. “You saved Moku. How can I ever repay that?”

“You needed help and I tried to help you. That’s all. I thought that was what you were supposed to do when you loved someone.”

And there it was. The six-ton killer whale in the room. “It is,” I told him. “But not everyone is willing to swim two days through treacherous waters to do that, especially when they’re angry. So thank you.”

“Will you stop it? You make it sound like you’re about to dump me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? That’s what you got out of that?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

His silver eyes were dull, and more than a little bit nervous as he looked at me. But before I could say anything else, Moku crowed, “Look at this!” and held up his finished drawing.

“It looks fantastic!” I told him. “Good job.”

Kona echoed my sentiments; then we both watched, bemused, as Moku tore a piece of paper out of his sketch book and started folding it industriously.

“What are you making?” I asked after a minute of watching him fold the first top of the paper into triangles.

Both Kona and Moku looked at me like I’d grown another head. “A paper airplane!” they exclaimed at the same time, then grinned at each other.

“Obviously,” Moku continued, making a few more folds that finally turned the paper into a recognizable form. But when he pulled back his arm and sent it soaring, it crashed straight into the ground.

His shoulders slumped. “They always do that,” he mumbled to himself.

“That’s because you’re too tip heavy,” Kona said. “Give me a sheet of paper and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“You know how to make paper airplanes?” It was my turn to stare at him incredulously.

He looked down his nose at me in what I had come to think of as his princely look. “I’m a guy, aren’t I?”

“You’re a two-hundred-year-old underwater prince!”

“Which is why I’ve had over fifty years to perfect the technique. Watch and learn, sweet Tempest. Watch and learn.”

“Excuse me, but I am quite the paper airplane designer myself, you know.”

“Really?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. “Well then, let’s have a competition, shall we? I’ll show Moku how to make my airplane and then you can show him how to make yours and we’ll see which one goes farther.”

It was a challenge, pure and simple, a toss of the gauntlet that Kona knew I would never be able to resist. “Fine. You’re on.”

“Awesome!” crowed Moku as he ripped more paper from the sketchbook. “Show me how to keep it from crashing to the floor, Kona!”

“Oh, I see how you are,” I teased him, pretending to be miffed. “No loyalty at all.”

“Aww, don’t be mad, Tempest. It’s just that Kona’s a guy and guys are better at stuff like this.”

My eyes widened and I stared at him, mouth open, for long seconds. Kona choked on a laugh, then became incredibly absorbed in the pattern of the wallpaper. “That is completely sexist!” I told Moku indignantly. “Not to mention ridiculous! Who’s been telling you that stuff while I’ve been gone?” I knew it wasn’t my dad, who’d spent my entire life telling me I could do anything I put my mind to.

“Rio said—”

“Oh, really? Rio said? It seems that pipsqueak has had a lot to say these days, hasn’t he?” I took one of the pieces of paper determinedly. “I’ll show you how to build the world’s best airplane.”

Kona snorted and muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like “Good luck!” Which, of course, only annoyed me more.

The next few minutes were spent aligning, calibrating, folding, and refolding, until finally there were four airplanes—one made by Kona, one from me, and then the two done by Moku as we taught him how to make the planes.

I was honest enough to admit that Kona’s looked more elegant than mine, not to mention flashier. But I’d been doing my design for years and was confident in its ability to kick Kona’s pretty little plane’s butt.

The rules were simple. Whichever two of the four planes went farthest would have a fly-off and whoever won the fly-off would have bragging rights for life.

“Are you ready?” I asked when we were all lined up against the back wall of Moku’s room, planes at the ready.

“Yes!” crowed Moku, who was so excited he was practically jumping up and down. “Let’s do this!”

“All right, then.” Kona winked at me over my brother’s head. “Count us down, man.”

“Three, two, one, go!” We let the planes rip.

Kona’s flew the fastest, but it crashed and burned before reaching the halfway point of the room. Mine went the farthest, followed by Moku’s version of Kona’s plane.

Moku retrieved the airplanes, then counted us down for the fly-off. And then bragged hugely as his plane soared all the way to the opposite wall.

“Design will tell,” Kona said with a smug grin.

“Give me a break,” I answered. “Your design failed miserably.”

“Excuse me? I believe my design just kicked your plane’s butt, thank you very much.”

“That was execution from the aerospace engineer over there,” I said, nodding to Moku, who was yawning sleepily as he climbed into bed.

“That’s not true, Tempe. Kona helped a lot.” Moku was nothing if not loyal.

“Thanks, man.” Kona ruffled his hair and I bent to give my brother a kiss on the cheek.

“Go to bed,” I told him. “If you’re in good shape tomorrow, the doctor is going to let us take you home.”

“He better let me go home. I’m sick of this stupid old hospital.”

“I know, baby.” I turned off the lamp near his bed so that only the dim light from the bathroom remained. Then started to unfold my chair into a bed.

“I should probably get going,” Kona said, sounding as awkward and unhappy at the prospect as I was. That he’d taken the time, and energy, to do all this for my brother, reminded me of why I’d fallen in love with him to begin with.

He was brave and strong, and yet so considerate that it made everything inside of me melt, turn gooey. He was a prince, heir to the throne, and could have let that privilege turn him into a totally different person, one who would never consider flying planes with a sick little boy well after midnight.

“You can stay for a while,” I told him. “I mean, if you want. This bed isn’t the most comfortable, but if we squeeze you could lie down on it with me.” I pulled a sheet out of the closet, draped it over the cushions.

“I could probably do that.” Kona smiled and my heart squeezed just a little, like it always did when he looked at me like that.

In the end, he stretched out on the makeshift bed and I cuddled up against him, my head pillowed on his bicep and my hand resting on his stomach. I loved being near him like this, soaking up the delicious warmth that emanated from his every pore. Especially here on land, when I was always freezing, no matter how much clothing I had on or how hot it was outside.

We lay there like that for a while, long after Moku had fallen asleep, and I didn’t want the night to end. I knew that everything was changing, that soon nothing would be as it once was. I didn’t know exactly where the feeling was coming from, but it was there, deep inside me. A strange vibration that warned me something big was coming, something different and life altering and previously unknown.