“Sorry,” I gasped. “May I have—Do you have—”
Willa jumped up and left the room. Seconds later, she reappeared with a pitcher of blue-green liquid and a glass. It took three glasses for me to catch my breath. That didn’t make the words come any easier.
“Do you… ?” I started. “Have you… ?”
“Taken lives?” she finished. She waited for my nod, then took another minute to consider her response. “No. I’ve done everything I can to avoid it.”
I filled another glass. My hands trembled so much, water sloshed out of the pitcher and onto the table.
“It’s a lot to process, I know. And I’m so sorry you’ve gone so long without the truth.” Willa held out one hand, like she was going to brush my hair back from my forehead, but then seemed to think better of it and rested her hand in her lap. “But that’s why Charlotte did what she did. That’s why your father did what he did. Neither had a choice.”
I gulped down the glass of water before speaking again. “Why did she let him live? Why did she leave Winter Harbor a year later—and then give me away when he found her?”
“Despite her reasons for initiating a relationship with him, Charlotte cared about your father. She couldn’t do what was expected of her. So she let him go, and she let the other Winter Harbor sirens believe otherwise. Eventually, worried that they were growing suspicious and fearing they’d do something to you as punishment, she fled. When your father came all that way, she realized how much he cared about you—and how much safer you’d be with him and away from her. They didn’t know who he was, after all. They grew suspicious because her health started to fail again. That wouldn’t have happened—at least not so soon—if she’d taken his life.”
“And the bookstore? The fire?”
Willa paused. “It wasn’t an accident. Your mother thought having no connection to her was the best way to protect you.”
I raised my eyes to hers. “Is that why you never wanted to see me? Because you were a connection to her?”
“Yes. It’s also why I vowed a long time ago never to listen to your thoughts, the way all sirens can to some degree. Even though there were times, like last summer, that I so desperately wanted to check in and make sure you were all right. If I’d done that, in time you would’ve been opened up to mine… and that would’ve made everything even more complicated.”
I looked away, at the spotless coffee table, the empty book-shelves, the fireplace that looked like it had never seen a match.
After everything she’d just said, knowing the truth she’d been keeping to herself all these years, I couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep things simple.
“They’re back,” I said a moment later, my eyes landing on a piece of seaweed stuck to the side of the empty pitcher. “The Winter Harbor sirens. The ice has thawed… and now they’re back.”
“I know.” Her voice was quiet, steady.
“My friends and I… we’re the ones who stopped them last summer.” I looked at her, tears filling my eyes. “I think they’re coming for us.”
This time, she didn’t resist the urge. She reached forward, gathered me in both arms, and pulled me close. As my tears soaked her shoulder, she stroked my hair.
“You’re not alone anymore, Vanessa. They’re not going to hurt you—or anyone else—ever again.”
“How do you know?” I whispered.
“Because we’re going to do it right this time.” She hugged me tighter, rocked me gently back and forth. “We’re going to drown them.”
“H
OW ARE YOU
feeling?”
Paige looked up from the magazine she was reading. I started toward her, encouraged by the fact that she was awake and sitting up. She’d been home for two days after a weeklong stay in the hospital, and though she was improving physically, emotionally, it was hard to tell.
“Okay,” she said with a small smile. “Tired, but okay.”
“That’s progress.” I returned her smile and lowered myself to the edge of the bed. I hated what I was about to do but knew I had no choice. “Paige… I have to talk to you about something.”
“Me, too,” she said.
“Can I go first? Please?” We still hadn’t discussed what she’d tried to do, and I knew that’s what she wanted to explain. But I thought her explanation might change once she heard what I had to say. When she nodded, I continued. “You were right.”
“About what?”
My fingers grew moist around the rolled-up newspaper I held. “Do you remember a few weeks ago, when you thought you saw Raina and Zara? In the park during class?”
What little pink colored her face faded to white. “I remember imagining they were there, yes.”
“You weren’t imagining it.”
She looked down at the newspaper when I placed it on the blanket between us. Matthew Harrison’s stiff, smiling face had made the front page. “Is that… ? Is he… ?”
“The Bates recruiter from the café. Parker and I found him floating in the school pool the same afternoon you tried to transform.”
Her head snapped up. “What were you doing with Parker?” she asked sharply.
The question and tone were so unexpected it took me a second to respond. “Talking, taking a break from the whole college scene. We’re friends, sort of.”
“Parker doesn’t have friends who are girls. He has girls he hooks up with.”
The picture of us by the river. She must’ve seen it with the added caption. “Paige, Parker and I… it’s not what you’re thinking. I promise.”
She frowned but didn’t press. Instead, her gaze fell back to the paper. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “He’s one guy. It could be a coincidence.”
“Except it’s not just one guy. They caused the BU bus crash, made Colin Cooper jump off a bridge, and killed the two divers who’d discovered them in the ice. Matthew was the only one who was found smiling because the siren who claimed him was finally strong enough to have that effect. The deaths leading up to his were practice, rehab.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
I tried to explain it the way Willa had explained it to me. “The sirens lost most of their power during the three months they were frozen. In order to grow stronger, they had to pursue again, which was a much more challenging task in their weakened states. To tip the odds in their favor, they started with men who had limited or no defense—those who couldn’t refuse them if they’d wanted to. That’s why Zara stepped in front of the bus and caused the accident, so they could prey upon the hurt and injured.”
“So these guys, lying in hospital beds, professed their love to a bunch of strange women?”
“The ones who made it to the hospital were lucky. The ones who ended up in the water, who weren’t found until their bodies washed up by the airport, they’re the ones the sirens went after. They were so close to death it didn’t take much to finish the job.”
Her face twisted. “And Colin Cooper?”
“His situation was more complicated.” I took a thin stack of printouts from beneath the newspaper. “But I think they found him on an online dating site and began corresponding with him once they learned of his association with Hawthorne. They wanted to make sure we heard about it. According to these e-mail exchanges, he had a history of depression and nearly overdosed once. For weeks the e-mails led up to a single meeting, which he thought went well, and in the next, the young siren ended the relationship, guessing he’d do something drastic in response. She was waiting for him in the river when he jumped.”
“How do you know—”
“I found the e-mails in Betty’s house.”
She stared at me, mouth open, eyes wide.
“I went there after you… after I found you in the bathtub. When Betty didn’t visit you in the hospital or even return my calls, I got worried. I thought something might have happened to her, and if it hadn’t, I wanted to talk to her about what you’d done.” I took her hand; it was limp, but she didn’t pull away. “I was worried about you, too.”
She shook her head. When she spoke, her voice wavered. “She said that they were dead, that she couldn’t hear them. She said she just wanted me to protect myself from others by becoming more like them, so that I could defend myself if ever I needed to again.”
“Paige,” I said quietly, squeezing her hand. “When I was up there, Oliver attacked me. He knocked me unconscious.”
“Oliver’s, like, a hundred years old. He couldn’t swat a mosquito without breaking a bone.”
“Then he’s somehow stronger under Betty’s spell.”
“Her
spell?
”
Willa and I weren’t sure about this part, but it was the best we could come up with without more evidence. “We think the sirens are somehow controlling Betty to act on their behalf. To get Oliver to care for them… to get you to become one of them.”
She held my eyes for a second before yanking her hand away, pushing aside the newspaper and e-mails, and picking up her magazine. “I appreciate your concern, Vanessa, I do. But the summer’s over. All of that? It’s over. You should move on.”
How I wished that were possible.
“I saw them,” I said. “I saw Zara, and at least a dozen others. They were in Betty’s basement, sleeping in wooden bins filled with ocean water… just like I was.”
In her hands, the magazine trembled. I focused on the cover as I spoke; if I looked at her, I wouldn’t get through it.
“You don’t want to transform, Paige,” I continued softly. “Believe me. You’ll be tired, and weak, and thirsty. All the time. You’ll have to drink constantly and bathe in salt water. Eventually, you’ll have to make guys like you just so you have enough energy to get through the day without passing out. Your life will change completely. Forever.”
There was a long pause. Outside, the brisk autumn wind whined, sending dead leaves flicking against the bedroom windows. I raised my eyes to Paige’s, but she still stared, not blinking, at the magazine.
“How do you know this?” she finally whispered.
Here it came. The truth I’d been hiding for three excruciatingly long months. Once I admitted it out loud, it would be real
in a way it hadn’t been before now.
But there was no use denying what could never be changed.
“Because I’m one of them,” I said.
She jumped just as the bedroom door flew open. Mom came in carrying a tray of sandwiches and ice water.
“I figured you might be too tired to come downstairs for dinner.” She placed the tray on the nightstand and took a thermometer from her sweater pocket. Paige didn’t seem to see it at first, but when Mom wagged it in front of her face, she opened her mouth obligingly. “I brought enough for you, too, Vanessa.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but I actually have plans.”
They both looked at me. “Like a date?” Mom asked.
“Like a study session,” I said, avoiding Paige’s questioning gaze.
I stood and waited at the foot of the bed as Mom straightened Paige’s blankets and fluffed her pillows. Ever since the bathtub incident, she’d been in maternal overdrive, taking care of Paige and making sure she wanted for nothing. She handled the responsibility with the same energy and focus she’d once used at work, which was a promising change. It also meant Paige was rarely alone, and that allowed me to go to school, spend time with Willa, and do everything else I needed to without worrying about a second transformation attempt.
I wanted to talk with Paige more, but Mom was thorough. After the pillows, she checked the thermometer and sat on the bed while holding a cold compress to Paige’s forehead. She seemed to be in no hurry to leave, and Paige wasn’t protesting her presence, which made me think Paige welcomed the chance to process everything I’d just told her.
When ten minutes passed, I excused myself and told Paige I’d come see her when I got back.
I dashed to my room, where I’d laid out everything I needed for the night. I’d raided Mom’s boxes of designer clothes earlier and found a tight black satin miniskirt, a silky red sleeveless blouse, and black pumps with four-inch heels. I kept the accessories simple, opting only for sheer black hose and a pair of ruby earrings. A fitted black satin trench completed the outfit.
Once dressed, I undid my ponytail and brushed my hair until it fell straight down my back. I put on foundation, blush, lipstick, and mascara, all of which I’d bought at the drugstore that afternoon, and sprayed vanilla-and-clove-scented perfume on my neck and wrists.
Not bad
, I thought, examining my appearance in the full-length mirror. Not me either, but that was sort of the point. I grabbed my phone and clutch from the bed, listened by the closed door to make sure no one was in the hallway, and ran downstairs.
“Vanessa?” Dad called from his office as I breezed through the living room. “Is that you? Can you come here, please, I want to—”
“Going out, be back later!”
Outside, I ran down the steps and up the sidewalk. My ankles wobbled in the heels, but any fear I felt about falling and breaking something was overwhelmed by nerves. After planning this
night for days, I just wanted it to be over as soon as possible.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I stopped, but my heart kept racing. Parker stood beneath the awning of Il Cappuccino, an Italian restaurant that, according to its Web site, promised fine cuisine and the most romantic ambience Boston had to offer. He’d dressed for the occasion and wore black pants, a white button-down shirt, a fitted black suit vest, and a striped tie. He carried a black wool overcoat. His hair was brushed back from his face, like he’d run his fingers back after taking a shower and not touched it since.
This is no big deal… you’re just two friends having dinner…. It’d be no different if he were Caleb or Paige or—
He kissed my cheek. It was so soft I might not have believed it had actually happened if my knees hadn’t buckled, leaving me no choice but to take his hand—for balance—when he offered it.
“This was a great idea,” he said. “I’m so glad you suggested it.”
“Me, too.” I tried to smile, but looking at him only made my body sway again.
Inside the restaurant, I declined the hostess’s invitation to check my coat, wanting to stay as covered up as possible. As I followed her across the main eating area filled with cozy booths and dim lighting, I struggled to remember everything Willa had told me about sending signals. I hadn’t mentioned what I was doing with Parker, partially because I wasn’t sure she’d approve and also because I was embarrassed, but she’d given me enough basic information about sirens to work with.
I knew I was supposed to be relaxed. The tenser I was, the less effective I’d be. I was supposed to strike a careful balance in conversation, letting him talk a lot so he knew I was interested, but also talking myself so that he could be lulled by my voice. Eventually, again when I was relaxed, I was supposed to touch him. It didn’t have to be much—brushing his hand with mine or taking his arm when we left the restaurant would do—but the key was that it happen naturally.
Unfortunately, trying to remember everything I was supposed to do only stressed me out. So when Parker asked how my day had been, I told him it had been fine, reached for my water glass—and knocked it off the table. When he started to tell me about his, I rested my elbows on the table and leaned toward him, making the table tilt and the breadbasket fall into my lap. When our candle went out, I raised it to get the waiter’s attention and ask for a new one, and sent a thin stream of hot wax sliding down my sleeve.
To me, this was sign after sign that what I was doing was wrong. Not just because I didn’t know how to do it, but because I wasn’t supposed to be doing it. I still loved Simon even if he no longer loved me, and this wasn’t fair to him. And poor Parker actually thought we were on a real date. He’d probably made tons of girls cry over the years, but that didn’t mean he deserved what I was doing.
There was a reason I wanted to do this: to become as strong as possible so that, when the time came, I could take on Raina
and Zara. But there had to be another way.
“Listen,” I said, starting to wipe the wax from my sleeve.
“Don’t.” He reached across the table and tugged on the cloth napkin. “Once it’s dry you can just pick it off. Wiping it now will ruin your jacket.”
“Oh.” I looked at the wax and lowered the napkin. “Thanks.”
“So I have an idea.” He lowered his voice. “Why don’t we take things down a notch? There’s this place I like to go not far from here. The food’s not fancy, but it’s good. The atmosphere’s unbelievable. We’d be a million times overdressed, but I won’t mind if you don’t.”
“I don’t,” I said, already standing. Once we were outside, I could break a heel and say I had to go. Or I could come down with a sudden, fake illness. All that mattered was that getting out of there was the start of the end of the night.
“Blind date!” Parker called back to our waiter as we slid out of the booth. “Wrong girl!”
Realizing he was talking about us, I stopped short. He kept going until his chest pressed lightly against my back, and then he rested both hands on my waist and nudged me forward.
“Mistaken identity,” he whispered. “Guaranteed to bring any romantic dinner to a grinding halt.”
Which, for some reason, cracked me up. I didn’t know if it was my emotional state finally collapsing under the weight of the past few months, or if the idea of accidentally going on a date with the wrong person really was that funny, but I laughed all the way out the door and was still giggling as we started down the sidewalk. It had been a long time since anything had made me laugh like that—or even a little. The feeling was almost as refreshing as an impromptu swim in the ocean.
“Here we are,” Parker said a few blocks later.