Awaken (2 page)

              “’Trophy Wife’, ‘Come to Bed Red’, or ‘No Prenup’?” Phoebe asked, as she placed three small bottles on the coffee table in front of her.

             
“I still think you should go with ‘Fishnet Stockings’” Carmen suggested, glancing up from her homework.

             
“What happened to normal colors like ‘Baby Pink’ or ‘Red No. 5’?” Willow wrinkled her button nose at the bottles and settled onto the couch beside Carmen.

             
“Who wants to paint ‘Baby Pink’ on their nails when you can paint ‘Take Him to the Cleaners’ on them instead?” Carmen disputed, reading the bottom of a bottle with a grin.

             
“Nothing says ‘I’m girlfriend material’ like the color ‘Call Me Irresponsible’” I added, after inspecting several of the already rejected colors of polish.  Phoebe had a habit of repainting her nails to match her outfit, shoes, or favorite candy of the week.  She had more nail polish in her collection than you could find at any one store.  It was impressive.  Her most recent revision was in preparation for her date with Ian.   After asking her to the Ball last month, they had become inseparable. 

             
“Speaking of irresponsible, have you guys heard about the new girl?” Carmen asked with revulsion.  My heart hardened as the memory of this morning’s incident with Nadia replayed in my mind.

             
Phoebe’s head peeked out of her bedroom mid-outfit change, “I heard she transferred from the House of Metis in California because she got heavy into drugs.”

             
“She’s in my history class and I can tell you she definitely won’t be crowned Ms. Congeniality anytime soon,” I informed them with a frown.

             
“I heard she was in the Order of Nymphs,” Carmen added, putting down her spiral notebook.

             
“Like a marsh Nymph?  Or a river Nymph?” Phoebe guessed from her room.

             
“I guess it’s possible she could be either of those,” Willow bit her lip in deep thought.

             
“Okay wait, I’m confused.  There are more than four Orders?” I asked Willow, seriously considering creating that dictionary again so I could keep all of this straight.

             
“There are many Orders, but the Nymphs are the descendents of the Oceanids.  While we’re all connected to the sea, they’re connected to specific bodies of water.  So a river Nymph would be connected to one particular river,” she explained.

             
“So that would mean there are pond Nymphs and lake Nymphs?” I deduced.

             
“That’s right; and the body of water they are connected to would be determined by which Oceanid they’re descended from, kind of like how our abilities work,” Willow attested.

             
“Maybe she’s a mud puddle nymph,” Carmen snickered.

             
“Or a sewer nymph,” Phoebe giggled from the bathroom where she was brushing her brown, blonde, and red multi-colored hair again.  Willow just rolled her eyes at them, but I could see the wheels turning in that brain of hers.

             
“There are so many kinds of Nymphs, it would be hard to know for sure, but I have a feeling we can rule out sewage and puddle nymph.” Still giggling, we all looked up at the same time when there came a knock at the door.  Phoebe gasped and started rushing around her room in an effort to finish getting ready. I stood, grabbed the handle and swung the door open. 

             
Expecting Ian, my heart faltered as a pair of deep blue eyes collided with mine.  The hint of a smirk played on Finn’s lips as he leaned confidently against the door frame.

             
“Hi there.” An amused smile crept across his face.

             
“Hi yourself.” I beamed up at him, while my legs promptly turned to rubber.  No matter how many times I laid my eyes on him, he always managed to take my breath away. Maybe it was the way his dark hair fell into his eyes or the sexy darkness he emanated.  Maybe it was the way his jeans hung perfectly on his waist or the way his shirt clung to the muscles of his arms and chest.  Maybe it was the person beneath it all who would gladly risk his life for me.  I’m pretty sure there was no way to pin it down.  He just had that
something
.  Plain and simple.

             
“Who is it?” Phoebe came sliding to a stop beside me dressed in an eclectic, bright purple asymmetrical dress. I watched as her face turned from expectant, to surprised, and finally landed on disappointment.

             
“Expecting someone else?” Finn teased her.  She instantly turned a nice shade of bright pink, causing his smile to widen.  “Don’t worry.  He’ll be here soon.  When I left he was fixing his hair for the hundredth time.”

             
“What can I say,” a rich, deep voice sounded behind Finn as Ian stepped into the doorway too. Dark denim jeans and a pale yellow polo shirt accentuated his dark skin and hair.  “Phoebe deserves no less than absolute perfection.”  He looked Finn up and down, and then scrunched his nose in my direction apologetically, “Unfortunately, Finn falls into the ‘less than’ category.” 

             
He easily dodged Finn’s playful punch, but being the quicker of the two, Finn still managed to mess up his short dark hair.  In an attempt to save Ian’s dignity and our suite (I had seen these two fight each other before and it wasn’t pretty), I grabbed Finn’s hand and dragged him the rest of the way into the kitchen. Ian just winked at him and clutched Phoebe’s hand, already leading her out the door.

             
“Don’t wait up!” she called out to us as she closed the door behind them, already giggling. Armed with a witty remark, I turned to face Finn but he gripped my waist and jerked me close; instantly erasing any words I was about to say.  I breathed him in and tried my best not to melt into a Stasia-sized puddle at his feet.  His blue eyes darkened and he smiled knowingly as he bent down, gingerly kissing my eager lips.  A flood of tingles assaulted my spine and the only thing that saved me from losing myself in him completely was Carmen’s exaggerated sigh coming from the living room.

             
“What I’m about to say truly comes from a place of love,” she paused for dramatic effect, “spare us the lovey-dovey crap and go make out somewhere else.”

             
“You know, you really should tell us what’s on your mind more often,” I chuckled at her.  In response, Finn cloaked us both; sending a sparkling net around our bodies and shielding us from sight.

             
“Ew.  Just ‘cause I can’t see you, doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re doing,” she shot back to the place she assumed we were still standing. 

             
After Finn uncloaked us, I planted a kiss on Carmen’s cheek and watched her wipe it off in mock repulsion.  We ducked into my bedroom for privacy, but after catching a glimpse of my disaster of a room, I instantly wished I had cleaned up that morning.  My bedspread and sheets had somehow twisted into a pile of fabric at the foot of the bed, clothes were draped over every surface, and books were scattered across the blue shag rug.  Thankfully Finn didn’t seem to notice.  He shut the door, swept the hair back from my face, and inspected me with genuine concern.

             
“For a girl who’s supposedly sick, you sure are beautiful.” He raised a skeptical eyebrow at me and drew me close.  The proximity of his warm body scrambled my thoughts, but somehow I managed a halfway coherent response.

             
“You should see me when I’m well,” I leered up at him.  The corners of his mouth lifted up into a crooked grin and his blue eyes danced with amusement.  His retort was a soft, slow kiss that left me reeling. 

             
“Nothing could diminish your radiance.  Not a fever,” he smiled slyly, “and especially not a fake fever.”

             
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’m burning up.” I put a hand to my forehead.

             
“You’re definitely hot…” he reached for my hand and kissed it, then sat down on the bed.  His blue eyes changed from amused to serious in a nanosecond.  I sat down beside him.

             
“There’s something we need to talk about,” he started, eyes down.

             
“Okay…” My heart plummeted to the floor, fearing what he wanted to talk about.  No conversation that started with ‘we need to talk’ ever ended well.  It was usually followed by an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’.

             
“It’s about your journey to the Underworld,” he sighed in frustration, but the amount of relief I felt had me suppressing the urge to do cartwheels around the room.  A discussion around my journey, I could handle; a discussion around him breaking my heart, I couldn’t bear.  I forced myself to focus.

             
In order to fulfill my true destiny and become the leader of the Tydes like my mother, I would have to face the current, self-appointed leader, Keto, who just happened to be a Siren.  But, before I could do that, I had to complete my essence in order to become a true goddess once I turned eighteen.  Unfortunately, there were far more things I didn’t know about my journey than I did know.  I knew I would have to die for my soul to be released and enter the Underworld.  Once there, I’d have to swim in the River Styx, which would complete my essence.  I knew my whole journey would be in vain if my soul couldn’t find a way to leave and return to my body.  If I failed to return, my soul would spend the rest of eternity in the Underworld while my shell of a body remained trapped in this realm forever.  Most importantly, I would let down my family, my friends, and all Tydes.  I couldn’t let that happen.

             
“We have a problem. I talked to my mom today and she reminded me of something.”

             
“Okay…” I said hesitantly.  This didn’t sound good.

             
“There are only four days during the year when a mortal’s soul can voluntarily cross into the Underworld.” He glanced at me with worry evident in his eyes.

             
“That doesn’t sound too difficult.  What are they?”             

             
“That’s where it’s going to get tricky.  You have to take the journey before you turn eighteen, right?  So we need to know which of those days falls before your birthday.  Those are the ones we’ll have to choose from.”

             
“Well my birthday’s in April so…” my words faded quickly as understanding hit me like a sledgehammer. I gaped up at him with dread and whispered slowly, “I don’t know my true birthday.”                I put all of my attention into inspecting a rogue string on my comforter as the gravity of the situation sunk in.  When I was found on the police station doorstep as a baby, there were no records of my birth, no documentation to confirm my birth date or true age, so the doctors could only guess at my age and therefore my birthday.  April 17
th
had been decided upon as a stand-in date, but my true birthday would forever remain a mystery.  Or so I had thought.

             
“The next two days you could go are in November and February,” he continued.

             
“But it’s the second week of October - November’s too soon!” I pleaded, searching his eyes with paralyzing panic. The fear that immediately clutched my chest at the thought of taking the journey so soon had me hoping my true birthday was indeed after February. “What’s so special about those four days?”

             
“They’re the only days of the year when the veil between the two realms is thin enough.” He watched me carefully to make sure I was following along before he continued, “So, in order to know when you’ll go to the Underworld, we have to find out when your real birthday is.  If it’s before February, and you’re forced to go next month, we’ll have to start preparing you now.”

             
An idea occurred to me and my eyes lit up. “The Isle!  If I was born there, there’s got to be a birth certificate somewhere, right?”  My excitement was replaced with disappointment when he averted his eyes and his lips pressed into a straight line.

             
“Unfortunately being born on the Isle means you definitely do not have a birth certificate.”

             
“So you don’t have one either?”

             
“Birth certificates are only useful for government records. No one knows the Fortunate Isle exists except for our kind.  And even that number is low because of its secrecy.  Same thing goes for social security numbers.  I don’t have one of those either.”

             
“So there really are no records to show I was ever born,” I concluded, disheartened.

             
“Records are only kept for those who can’t or won’t remember,” he supported my hand in his. “I think I know how we can find out when your true birthday is.  But we can’t do it here.  I have a feeling the Sirens are all watching you pretty closely.”  He raised an eyebrow and beamed with excitement, “So we’ll need to go somewhere remote to practice.”