Brightly (Flicker #2) (15 page)

Scrambling to her feet, Alice waded toward the bedroom door, even as the water rose to her hips. By the time she reached the door, the frigid water was up to her chest, still rising. Teeth chattering, she grabbed the doorknob, and found it was locked.

Alice focused a handful of energy into the doorknob. She felt her magic disperse into the air as soon as she gathered it, dissolved by the salt water. The water was around her shoulders now and she couldn’t catch her breath, as if her lungs were shrinking. She pounded the door with her fist, screaming, though she could barely hear herself over the roaring water.

Pushing herself onto her toes, Alice tilted her head back to keep her mouth and nose uncovered. Desperately, she tried to suck in a breath as the water surged upward again—

And Alice jerked awake so violently that she nearly fell out of the bed.

Lee was bent over her, gripping Alice’s shoulder. “Alice,” she said, sounding as if she’d said it a dozen times before Alice finally heard her. “What’s going on?”

At first, Alice couldn’t formulate an answer. Her thoughts were swirling, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her chest still felt constricted.

“I—I was dreaming,” Alice said, though it hadn’t
felt
like a dream. It had felt real. She imagined she could still taste the salt water on her lips.

“Some dream,” Lee huffed, finally releasing Alice’s shoulder. “You were thrashing around. I shook you, and your eyes opened, but you didn’t respond at all. I was about to get Nasser. I probably still should.”

“No,” Alice said immediately. “It was just a nightmare. It’s fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I
feel
fine.”

“Are you sure you don’t—”

“Leave it alone,” Alice said, a bit more sharply than necessary. “There’s no reason to wake anyone else up because I had a stupid dream.”

Though Lee looked unconvinced, she nodded and didn’t say anything when Alice climbed out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. Her legs felt rubbery when she walked.

Alice flicked on the bathroom light, blinking at its brightness. Without thinking, she turned on the tap—and found herself staring at the stream of clear water. For a long moment, she stood before the sink, transfixed, before she came back to herself with a shudder and hurriedly turned off the tap.

Shaking her head, Alice sat down on the closed toilet lid and forced herself to take deep, slow breaths. Bit by bit, she felt her chest open up and her breathing grow easier, though a slight tremor shook her hands.

Even in the silence of the bathroom, she thought she could hear the rushing of water.

As she descended the stairs in the morning, Lee heard unfamiliar voices in the living room: the TV, she realized when she rounded the corner. Clementine and Jason sat on opposite ends of the couch, studiously watching the news. Two mugs sat on the coffee table in front of them.

A dark-haired reporter stood beside a young man in a baseball cap, holding a microphone near his face. In the background, Lee saw slate-gray water and evergreens. At the bottom of the screen scrolled the words: TWO KAYAKERS DROWN AT DECEPTION PASS.

“We were standing on the bridge, on the walkway, when it happened,” the man said. “We were looking down at the water, and this massive whirlpool came out of nowhere. They got sucked under, just like that. It was weird,” he added. “It looked like something was moving under the water, something dark, but it happened so fast.”

The broadcast cut to a shot of the reporter, standing within sight of a massive bridge that stretched across the water.

“This is the sixth drowning since April,” the reporter said, “coming just one week after two fisherman died when their small boat capsized in the pass. Authorities are reminding boaters and kayakers to be especially careful of sudden tidal changes and whirlpools in Deception Pass.”

Next came the weather report. Lee stopped by the couch. “Where’s Deception Pass?”

“It’s south of us, between Fidalgo Island and Whidbey Island.” Clementine frowned at the TV. “I’ve never heard of so many people drowning in the pass. I mean, there are always whirlpools and waves, freak accidents, but it’s never been like this. Not that I can remember.”

Lee glanced toward the kitchen. She smelled coffee, but nobody was in the next room. “Did Nasser and Davis already leave?”

“Yeah,” Clementine said. “Davis said something about experimenting near water. He looked like he was in a hurry, so I didn’t bug him about it.”

“Filo and Henry took off, too,” Jason said. “Phouka hunting, apparently.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Lee asked.

Jason only shrugged. He picked up his mug and headed into the kitchen, presumably for more coffee. When he was out of the room, Clementine draped one arm across the back of the couch and looked to Lee.

“So you really think those runes will work?” she asked.

“I’m optimistic,” Lee hedged. When Clementine arched her eyebrows, she went on, “It’s just that I’ve never done magic quite like this before. The spell is solid, in theory. But there’s no way to know for sure until the runes have all been properly tested.”

Smiling ruefully, Clementine said, “I don’t think any of us have done anything quite like this before.”

“What kind of work do you usually do around here?”

Clementine shrugged. “We deal with sprites stealing from gardens and dryads going a little moon-mad and making vines grow all over the houses. That’s about as bad as it gets around here. We practice spells and study creatures and brew potions every day, but before all this with the merfolk, we were actually pretty normal.”

At that, Lee blinked. “You think that’s normal?”

When Clementine tilted her head, the sunlight streaming through the window caught her hair, turning it bright white. “What do you know about it?”

For a second, Lee didn’t answer. She’d never discussed her past with anyone other than Nasser, Filo, Alice and Jason. Nearly a year later, it was still a tender spot that she didn’t like to prod if she didn’t have to—not with a virtual stranger.

At last, she said, “I was normal once. Mostly.”

“So you don’t know anything.” Clementine leaned forward and picked up the mug on the coffee table. “Not about what ‘normal’ means to people like us—Sighted people. It’s different.”

“I know that.”

“You have a Sighted boyfriend.” Clementine’s gaze flicked back to Lee. “Doesn’t mean you know what it’s like.”

“Passing for normal and
being
normal aren’t the same thing,” Jason said from behind Lee. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw him leaning in the kitchen doorway. “Sightless magical folk are still magical folk. Other people might not recognize us for what we are, but we never forget. We feel it all the time, the same as you.”

Clementine stood. When she spoke, she didn’t sound angry. Her voice was almost sad. “When you know what it’s like to have strangers look at you like you’re not human, like you’re something that shouldn’t exist, come talk to me.” She started toward the front door without looking back at them. “I’ll meet you at Gilbert Beach to finish those runes.”

The screen door fell shut behind her. For a moment, Lee and Jason stood silently in the flood of sunlight.

“Do you think she’s right?” Lee asked finally. “Do we not understand?”

Jason seemed to consider his answer. “Maybe not entirely,” he told her at last, with a little smile that she couldn’t quite return. “But we’re all freaks, right? I think that means we’re supposed to stick together.”

Filo didn’t have to hear the waves hitting the rocks to know he was close to the sea. Even without that rhythmic sound, even if he closed his eyes and held his breath against the briny air, he would know where he was. He could feel it in his bones, even deeper than that.

The phouka was gone again, having disappeared in a burst of black smoke when she decided it would be more interesting to make Filo and Henry trace her path through the woods for the second time that day before continuing their lesson. Now and again, her sharp eagle cry sliced through the calm.

Henry was well-practiced in tracking animals through the woods—he could even follow the inscrutable trails left by dryads and moss maidens—so Filo followed him. Henry’s tread was light, his footfalls muffled by the undergrowth. He moved as easily and surely as if he’d never walked anywhere but in these woods.

They climbed a gentle slope, the sea’s magic growing stronger as they went, buzzing faintly against Filo’s skin. He wanted to brush it off, shake his limbs until it fell away, but he knew the feeling wouldn’t subside until he was farther inland. Honey-colored sunlight flashed through the trees ahead of them, turning Henry into a backlit silhouette.

As they emerged onto the hilltop, Filo instinctively half-turned toward the trees again as the sea’s magic rushed up to meet him, bracing his shoulders against it before he even caught a glimpse of the water. He didn’t look at the sea if he could help it. Just seeing it made him feel like he was drowning. Its distant, hollow whooshing was like the far-off howl of an animal preparing to swallow him whole.

“Look, Filo,” Henry beckoned, with a hushed eagerness that made him sound as if he were looking upon something sacred.

Filo glanced over his shoulder and then, as if he were being pulled by another force, wheeled around completely to face the scene before him.

Below the hilltop was a green, green field, the tall grass rippling in the rising wind. A patch of cloud rolled across the sun, and the hillside was briefly transformed, its colors bleeding from bright to dark to bright again as the cloud passed. Every other cloud drifting across the sky was backlit, edges shining and light bursting through. Beyond, the sea glowed blue and green.

Filo went very still. For a moment, even the insistent pull of the salt water fell away. He had seen the water before, he had felt the sea, but not like this, not with the horizon stretching out endlessly and the sky reaching up forever and everything drenched in golden light. The wind rose at their backs again, sweeping over the grass.

Henry shaded his eyes with one hand as he looked upon the sea, smiling like he had just recognized an old friend. When he turned his head to look at Filo, the smile didn’t change. “The kingdom under the sea,” he said. “A land of eternal youth, where summer never dies and sorrow never comes. It doesn’t seem so far-fetched when you’re standing here, does it?”

No,
Filo thought,
it doesn’t.
But what he said was, “You were listening. At the Goblin Market.”

“Of course I was. It was a good story.”

“I didn’t think you remembered.”

“How could I forget?” In this light, Henry’s eyes were greener than the field below. “I was wandering around, looking for Clem and Davis, and I heard your voice. You stopped me in my tracks. Then I saw the crowd, and I had to see what was going on.”

“It was magic that stopped you like that,” Filo said. “Not me.”

“No, it was you,” Henry said, like it was a simple thing. Then he smiled again, softer. “You know, I didn’t think you remembered me, either.”

At first, Filo didn’t answer. He blinked against the brilliance flashing off the water, then finally raised his hand to shield his eyes. “I could tell you were human,” he said finally, “and I’d never seen another full-blooded human at the Goblin Market, other than us. You were… noticeable.”

Henry snorted. “Is that why you were looking at me like I had three heads?”

“Was I?”

“More or less,” Henry said bemusedly. “But it’s fine. I’m just glad you remembered.”

“Yeah,” Filo heard himself say, and as the word escaped him, he wasn’t sure what he meant by it:
I’m glad I remember you,
or
I’m glad you remember me,
or both, or something else entirely.

Henry didn’t ask, though, and they fell into silence. The only sound was the endless shifting of the waves.

Later, Filo thought, when all this was over and he was home, he would remember this: the land and the sky and the sea, and Henry beside him, everything touched with hints of gold.

The singing was bitter and sweet, biting at Lee with the same teeth as the cold wind whipping off the sea. From the corner of her eye, Lee could see the water. Each flash of moonlight on the black sea looked like a portal to another world: open for a heartbeat, immediately flickering shut. Shivering, she tried to ignore the merfolk song as she hurried down the beach.

She stopped at a sweet-looking cottage, one of the last on the row of houses along Gilbert Beach. Olivia Freeman’s house. When the singing began, they had all gone to separate houses to check on the curse victims, and to see if Lee’s threshold spell worked in practice as well as in theory. Splitting up was the fastest way.

Lee climbed slowly onto the porch. The wood creaked under her shoes. She rapped sharply on the front door, then grasped the doorknob. After releasing a concentrated burst of magic, she felt the door unlock.