Siren (28 page)

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the front of his fleece with one hand and pulling him closer.

"Don't," I breathed. "Please ... don't."

"You don't know how happy that makes me," she said, gently taking his hands and putting them on her hips.

His head snapped up as their chests pressed together. His fingers tightened around her, which made her smile.

"You don't have a girlfriend, do you?" she asked, her mouth near his ear. "I wouldn't want to get in the way...."

"Vanessa!"

I was only vaguely aware of the voice behind me.

"Do something!"

Her lips grazed his neck. He gasped.

I fell back behind the minivan like I'd been punched in the stomach. My eyes landed on Caleb in the next row. He crouched next to an old station wagon, gripping his iPod and shaking.

"Please," he hissed, tears running down his face. "Please make her stop."

I felt like crying, too, but didn't know if it was because of the pain in my head or the sudden aching in my chest.

Vanessa ... remember the woods...
.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the images Justine's suggestion prompted. I remembered the woods. I remembered how easily Simon had been transfixed by Zara, even as I stood right next to him.

Talk to him...
.

"Why don't we go for a ride?"

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My eyes snapped open. I heard footsteps, doors open and close, a car start.

"Simon!" I yelled, scrambling to my feet. I rounded the back of the van and sprinted toward the car.
"Simon!"

The Subaru pulled out of its space and started for the parking-lot entrance. It sped up as I ran faster. Knowing I couldn't catch up if I followed them, I darted left and shot across the lawn separating the lot from the street.

When my feet hit the pavement, I lunged forward, toward the double yellow line. I closed my eyes, shielded my face with my arms, and braced for impact ... but the Subaru skidded to a stop, its front bumper inches from my shins.

"Simon!" I banged the hood with my hand as I ran to the driver's-side door. I yanked the handle, but the door was locked. "Hey!" I forced a smile as he looked at me through the closed window, confused. "You almost left without me."

Zara leaned across the middle console, put one hand on his thigh, and whispered in his ear.

"Simon."
I rapped on the window. "Please open the door."

He turned toward her. It was like he couldn't hear me.

I pounded the window with my fist. When he ignored me again, I spun around and bolted for the side of the road. I grabbed as many rocks as my hands could hold, ran to the car, and hurled them at the back window. The glass cracked on the fourth try. On the fifth, a hunk no bigger than an ice cube popped out.

"Simon!" I shouted through the small opening. "It's Vanessa."

He froze. "Get out of here."

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My heart sank. "Simon, please--"

"Get out."

I stepped back as he shoved Zara off him. He threw open the door, strode to the passenger's side, and yanked her out.

"Baby, what are you--"

"They need you inside, Zara," I said loudly, so Simon could hear me over her. "You should go."

She turned toward me, her short pink skirt rippling in the light breeze. "Vanessa," she said, her voice entering my ears like switchblades.

I didn't respond. It took everything I had to keep my eyes on hers.

"Your boyfriend's cute," she said, stepping away from Simon. "Not terribly loyal ... but cute."

I held my ground as she neared the back of the car. Standing so close I could smell her vanilla-scented perfume, she leaned toward me, smiled, and whispered a single word.

"Boo."

Simon's arms were around me before I could hit the ground.

"Caleb," I said when she started across the lawn. "He's still back there."

Simon jumped in the Subaru and moved it to the side of the road, then got out and took my hand. We hurried after her, keeping her in sight while staying a safe distance behind. She stopped once and tilted her head, like she was listening. After

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several seconds she continued walking and disappeared into the school.

"I tried to warn him."

Simon and I spun around. Caleb stood behind us, still gripping his iPod. His face shone and his shirt was dark with sweat.

"I told him what she is," he said. "I told him what she does."

Simon looked at me, then stepped toward him. "Who, Caleb? Who'd you tell?"

His face crumpled, and fresh tears rolled down his face. "Mark," he whispered. "He said he loved her last night."

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CHAPTER 21

"NO ANSWER." Caleb snapped his cell phone shut and tossed it on the table.

"There's nothing on the Internet," Simon said, closing his laptop.

"The sky hasn't been so blue all summer." I nodded toward the window. "Maybe he listened to you and got away."

Frowning, Caleb returned to Zara's journal, which I'd learned he'd been translating with the help of a French dictionary in between calls to Mark since returning home the night before. I'd gone right to my family's house instead of hanging out with them, happy to use Mom waiting for me as an excuse to leave; I understood that Simon couldn't control his reaction to Zara, but I'd had a hard time controlling my reaction to his. I'd been uncomfortable the rest of the night and welcomed the chance to take a break and process what I'd seen.

By the time I awoke this morning, the only conclusion I'd come to was that I missed him. It was all I could do to down a

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bowl of cereal and shower before running next door.

"She doesn't talk about him in here," Caleb said, flipping pages. "His name's not mentioned once."

"Who does she talk about?" I ask.

"Me, actually. Her feelings were apparently real--or at least she believed they were. She didn't even want to use her powers ... or whatever you want to call them ... but when I didn't give in right away, she thought she didn't have a choice." He glanced at his notebook. "Besides me, there's a whole lot of women: Betty, Raina, Brigitte, Marie, Eugenie, Isabelle, Josephine, Dominique, Sabine."

"Dominique and Sabine were at the meeting last night," I said. "They're on the Northern Lights Festival committee."

Caleb wrote that down. "There's also a ton about Paige. I haven't gotten very far, but her name appears more than anyone's. Jonathan's mentioned, too."

"What was Zara writing in there yesterday?" I asked. "During the meeting?"

Caleb flipped forward a few pages. "It looks like some kind of roster. It's a list of everyone who was there, and some more people I've never heard of. Men, though--not women."

"Raina asked everyone to give the names of ten people they'd be personally responsible for bringing to the festival. She said it was up to them to bring the community together during these dark times."

Caleb looked at Simon. "We should call the police."

"And say what?" Simon said. "That we're pretty sure a large

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group of mermaid murderesses plans to destroy the whole town during the first annual Lighthouse Marina Resort and Spa Northern Lights Festival?"

"Yes," Caleb said.

"We have no proof," Simon said. "I'm not saying they're not up to something, but we can't do anything until we know for sure what it is."

A cell phone buzzed. Caleb snatched his from the table, and then dropped it again.

"Be right back," Simon said, opening his phone and heading for the living room.

As Caleb returned to the journal, I got up, poured a glass of orange juice, and sat back down. I slid last week's
Herald
across the table toward me and pretended to read.

"You know you have nothing to worry about," Caleb said without looking up.

I bit my lip and turned the page. I wasn't worried. Curious, maybe. But not worried.

"Justine always said you two would be perfect together," he said a minute later.

I stared at a headline without seeing it. She did? When? And why didn't she say so to
me?
"I miss her," I said softly.

He paused. "I know. Me, too."

"Good news," Simon said, coming back into the kitchen. "Beaker's ready to roll."

"Beaker?" I said.

"Dr. Beakman, my professor and advisor. After I ran into him

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at Bates the other day and told him about my weather research here, he decided to come up to try to do some of his own. He's staying with a friend on the other side of town."

"The guy won a Nobel Prize about a million years ago," Caleb said. "Something about molecular fusion."

"He won a Nobel Prize and teaches lowerclassmen at Bates?" I asked.

"After working at the Institiute for Advanced Study at Princeton for twenty years. We're like his preretirement." Simon unfolded a large map and spread it across the table.

"Are you going to tell him what we know?" Caleb asked. "About the Marchands?"

"No. I'm going to tell him what we know about the victims." Simon's finger traced a thin line broken up by red dots on the map. "Here's where their bodies were found. All onshore, near water."

"Pretty close together," I said.

"Very close together. There are twenty miles of coastline running alongside Winter Harbor, but all of the victims were found within a mile of one another. According to police reports, the ones found farther south were submerged longer. Considering tides and currents, this suggests a common northern origin."

"Chione Cliffs," I said, my eyes fixed on Justine's red dot.

"The same current always follows the storms we've been having," Simon said. "It's strongest right outside the pool at the base of the cliff, heads south, and fades about a mile and a half down the coast."

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"So you're saying they all died in the same place?" Caleb asked. "At the base of the cliff?"

"I'm not positive ... but yes. That's my theory."

"And Oliver said that Betty loved to swim there because the water was so deep," I reminded them. "Maybe there was another reason."

"Right," Simon said. "Anyway, Beaker said to come over anytime, so we should go now. The festival's in forty-eight hours, so if the Marchands do have something planned, we don't have much time."

"Actually," I said, my heart beating faster, "I think I'll hang back with Mom. She's been pretty rattled since I told her about Justine not applying to college, so I should probably spend some time with her to keep her calm."

Simon turned to me. "Vanessa, we should stay together."

"I'll be on the porch," Caleb said after a pause. He gathered Zara's journal, his notebook, and his iPod from the table, and headed outside.

I looked down at the map, strangely nervous. "I'm sorry, I just--"

"Is this about last night?" he asked, his voice concerned. "We didn't get to talk after, and to be honest, I don't even know what happened. One minute I'm running through the school, looking for Caleb and Mark, and the next I'm in the car pushing Zara away from me."

"It's not about last night," I said, still unable to look at him. "You know how my mom gets. I just want to make sure

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I stay long enough to finish what we started."

The silence that followed was thick, as if filled with everything we'd say if only we knew how. When he finally spoke, he sounded hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry for whatever I said or did. But please know that that wasn't me. I couldn't hurt you, Vanessa."

"I know." I wanted to ask why he couldn't snap out of her trance by thinking of me and hearing my voice, the way he had in the woods, but I didn't.

Stepping toward me, he placed one hand against my neck and gently lifted my face until our eyes met. My heart raced, but my body relaxed. The second his lips pressed against mine, last night started to fade like a bad dream.

Until he reached for my hips. And his fingers tightened around me. And I saw his hands on her pink skirt.

I pulled away. "You should go."

His arms hung in the air, still reaching for me. "Vanessa, what--"

"We don't have much time. Like you said. And my mom's probably up and wondering where I am." I backed toward the door, my fingers to my lips. "But please text me your teacher's address so I know where you are. And call when you get there."

"Later, Vanessa!" Caleb yelled after me as I hurried down the porch steps.

Back in my house, I stood to the side of the kitchen door and peered through the small space between the curtain and glass. I held my breath as Simon and Caleb climbed in the Subaru and