Droplets (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 1) (21 page)

     “The woman who had come to save me began to lose. She was hesitant, as if she didn’t want to hurt Nerissa. But Nerissa gave her no mercy while the boy stood by and watched. Without thinking, I picked up my hunting knife and threw it at Nerissa, killing her. The boy came toward me, vowing to avenge his mother.”

     “But he didn’t get far. My rescuer stopped him—she gagged and tied him to the bed post. We escaped, and with what little strength she had left, Cordelia brought me to the safety of Lathmor.” Patrick sighed heavily and turned his palms open as if there was nothing else he could say to explain himself. “And when I awoke days later, my life was changed forever. Of course, at the time I didn’t realize just how much.”               

21. Confession

The only sounds in the cave were our soft exhalations of breath as we stared at one another. The silence was heavy, it felt like a physical presence in the room. I could feel it closing in on me, pressing into my flesh powerfully.

     We stood in this dreaded silence for a long moment, my heart thundering within my chest. Patrick’s eyes slowly refocused and he looked at me calmly without anger or frustration.

     “I believe you know the rest of the story?”

     “Yes,” I said, my voice shaky.

     He nodded awkwardly and the quiet shrouded us again. I could tell he wanted to say something, so I waited for him to do so.

     "Lissie, I’ve accepted what’s happened to me because I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it." Again his voice was calm and steady. "But the other day when I found out about you,” he raised a hand to his head as if it hurt to think about it, “I’ve never been so angry in all my life.” I winced knowing what was about to happen. Helplessly, I waited.

     “What Morven,” he said the name as if it were a curse, “did to you makes me so infuriated that I don’t, I don’t…” He broke off, his hands shaking by his sides and the dark anger which he had shown in Lathmor reappearing. I wanted to reassure him, calm him, do anything to make the anger he felt disappear.

     “It’s okay. At least, I think I’m okay with it.” My feeble voice tried to reassure him.

     “No, it’s not okay.” His voice was sharp; making me flinch. “From the very beginning of this, Morven has been there. He murdered Hector, kidnapped me from my family, helped his mother transform me into whatever it is that I am. He prevents me from living near anyone. He searches for me constantly, never relenting. And now he’s trying to take you from me.” His words ran together leaving me stunned. I had never heard him speak so quickly before.

     “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, shivering. Somehow the distance between us felt smaller even though neither of us had moved.

     “I have been alive for seven hundred and fifty-two years, and I have never met someone like you. The moment I saw you on the cliff I fell for you. I’ve been falling for you ever since that day and I won’t ever be able to give you up.” His words caught me off guard and my mind whirled in the reality of what he was saying. “I have nothing to offer you. I don’t know what I am, and I can’t protect you from Mor—”

     “Patrick, I ran away from Morven out of fear,” I butted in. Frustration and anger was reeling off of him, his chest heaving with pent up emotion. “It’s you that I want to be with.”

     My words hung in the air while I stood, stunned that I was bold enough to say them aloud. Patrick closed his eyes for a moment, but when he reopened them they were alive with a kind of fire.

     “He’s taken everything I’ve ever had,” Patrick’s deep voice said, filled with an emotion I couldn’t name. “But I’ll be damned if he takes you from me.”  

     In four long determined strides, Patrick closed the space between us and before I knew what was happening, his lips were on mine, raining tingling sensations throughout my body. His lips were warm and perfect, and his hands gently caressed the sides of my face. He kissed me fiercely for a moment and then his lips became softer. They moved against mine flawlessly, gracefully.

    His hands that adorned my face brushed my cheeks softly. Goosebumps crawled all over my legs and arms, while those same large hands slid off my face to my back. I inhaled deeply, and found myself crushed into his body, his strong arms swallowing me.  

     Cautiously, I lifted my hands to his face, placing them on either side just like he had done. I traced his eyelids and cheeks with my fingertips, my heart pounding with the disbelief that I was actually touching him, kissing him. Slowly, my hands made their way into his hair. It was soft, like gliding my fingers across the surface of water, until they became tangled in his wavy locks. I wrapped my hands around the back of his head, holding onto the kiss wishing, hoping it would never end.

     Patrick pulled his lips from mine and exhaled softly. I leaned my head back slightly to see his eyes. His face was so beautiful up this close, eyes kindled with an excitement and joy which matched my own. Small lines crinkled around the edges of his perfect lips in an impish grin.

     “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered, partially breathless against my face, as he nudged my forehead with his.

     “Really?” I asked, smiling.  

     “Really,” He confirmed, and laughed gently. My heart soared and I laughed with him. This was my friend, the one I laughed with, and shared ideas with. Smiling to myself, I leaned into his chest and reveled in the safety and warmth of his protective embrace.

     “This is a large cave,” I said, my mind slightly distracted. Patrick looked down at me, obviously amused. “I’ve just never been inside one this big,” I explained further while he gazed around the torch lit chamber, his brown eyes a melting chocolate in the fiery light.

     “Yes, I guess it is rather large,” he shrugged. “As you can see this was one of my favorite places back in the day.” He snickered to himself.

     “What do you mean?”

     “Huh?” He was distracted and looking at the cave walls.

     “What do you mean by ‘as you can see’?” I asked again, looking up at his handsome face. He peered down at me curiously as though I was missing the obvious.

     “I’m talking about the scratch marks on the walls. They’re evidence of how often I was here.” I tried to make out the so-called scratch marks, but couldn’t see anything. Narrowing my eyes, I still couldn’t see them. 

     “I don’t see anything,” my voice said dully.
Were my eyes really that bad?

     “You don’t?” he asked surprised. “Well, here.”

     He took his arms from around me and pulled me toward the wall by my hand. As we got closer, I could finally see what he was talking about. Millions of little scratches ran over the walls like tally marks.

     “What are they?” I asked, reaching out to brush my finger over one.

     “When they first put me on the island, I decided to keep track of the number of days I would be here.” There was a sarcastic incredulity to his voice, as though he couldn’t believe he had been so foolish. “It gave me something to do, a reason to get up each morning.”

     His words made me wonder how he had found the will to keep going after so many years. The millions upon millions of scratches were a part of his history, and yet here he stood before me looking no older than the day he made the first scratch.

     “Do you still do it?” I asked.

     “No, I stopped a hundred years or so ago. There just wasn’t really a point anymore.”

     We stared at the wall for a moment longer while my mind explored the incredibility of it all. Each mark was a day to him, more days than I could ever imagine, but days which I now knew my transformation would allow me to see. The very thought of living so long was daunting and really just impossible to grasp. It was difficult to think that I was holding hands with someone who had been living for centuries.

     Off to the side, a small archway in the cave wall caught my attention. It was not the same hole through which we had entered earlier.

     “Where does that lead?” For some reason, I whispered in a hushed voice and pointed. Patrick’s eyes followed my finger.

     “Oh,” he hesitated, “That… that’s just another room.” He sounded a little nervous.

     “What’s in it?” I prodded.

     “Well, it’s a,” he laughed and cleared his throat. “It’s actually my armory.” He smiled, embarrassed.

     “Really?” I said louder than I intended. “I want to see!”

     I walked quickly toward the opening, tugging Patrick along behind me. His fingers suddenly let go of mine. I stopped abruptly and turned to look at him. He smiled.

     “Just getting us some light.” His voice was reassuring. I waited patiently for him to pull the torch free from its holster and walk back to me. A pool of golden firelight surrounded our feet as Patrick reached for my hand. Somehow, it felt so right to have our hands joined. It was routine, like breathing.

     We stepped into the so-called armory, a small room filled with crafted wooden shelves. All were loaded with assortments of weapons. I grew conscious of my wide mouth as I stared at it all. Swords, daggers, whips, spears, bows, tomahawks, and many other weapons that I didn’t even know the names of adorned the shelves. Some of the objects looked very medieval, while others more modern. I recognized the Scottish claymore, and right beside it was the whip called the cat-o-nine-tails. Just looking at some of the weapons made my skin crawl in fear. I shuddered to think of the damage they could do to a human body.

     “Wh—why,” I stumbled on my words, “Do you have all of these?”

     “Just because I don’t have blades like a merman, doesn’t mean I won’t be able to fight one.” Patrick spoke seriously, as though he had recited these words many a time before. I realized I was not the first to voice my concerns over his safety, but pressed forward anyway.

     “You don’t intend to fight Morven, do you?”

     “Of course I do.”

     “Patrick!” My reaction was immediate. “You can’t! He’ll kill you!”

     “I don’t intend to seek him out,” he said. His face never turned toward me as his eyes roved over each of the weapons. It was as though he was selecting which would be best to fight Morven with. “As wonderful as it would be to hunt him down, I know it would be foolish.” His voice was calm, too calm, as though he was keeping it in check.

     “I just,” I broke off not really sure how to put my feelings into words. “Have you actually seen Morven now that he’s, he’s,” I swallowed hard, annoyed at my stuttering, “now that he’s big.”

     Patrick shook his head. “I haven’t, but that’s beside the point.” There was a finality in his voice that sent fear into my gut. He was serious and somehow I knew it would all come to pass and there was nothing I could do to stop it. “And if you are near me when I next see him, he is a fool if he thinks he can touch you without taking me out first.”

     “Please don’t,” I hung my head and shook it slowly from side to side. How could he not see the danger?

     “Do you honestly think I am going to let that monster take you from me?” His voice was harsh, but I knew it wasn’t because of me but who he was talking about. “You have completely changed everything for me.” I knew what he meant. My world was changed because of him too. He was like me, and yet unlike me. We were the same, and yet different. Somehow intertwined with what plans Morven had, and fated to be together.

     “Just remember,” I said as I brushed my thumb against the back of his hand, “if he kills you then I don’t have anything either.” I meant it too. Losing him would be losing not only a friend, but the one person in my world who understood. Together we were the misfits of the world.

     I glanced at his handsome face to see if he took me seriously. His smile was brilliant as he leaned in to brush his perfect lips softly against mine.

     “Believe me, I know,” he whispered softly. I smiled and he straightened back up, the light creating a silhouette of his head. “I believe you made dinner earlier and I’m hungry.” He tugged gently on my hand, “shall we?” I hesitated.

     “How did you know?” I asked curiously. Dinner was going to be a surprise, but now he had ruined it. A devilish half-grin appeared on his face.

     “It was easier to think when I was able to watch you and not worry about what you thought of me.” I smiled to myself, thinking of how worried I had been about the same things.

     “I didn’t think you would understand how different I am.” He spoke softly, admitting his earlier doubts.

     “I guess those feelings were mutual then.” A soft smile played around my lips and I tried not to blush as I confessed my same doubts.

     “That makes things easier,” he said, partially to himself and partially to me. I nodded, unsure of whether he wanted a response.

     “Dinner?” It was my turn to give his hand a small tug. He smiled.

     “Dinner.”

22. Reason

The lobster chowder disappeared quicker than I had anticipated; Patrick’s appetite polished off the meal in an honorable fashion.

     I was enjoying myself, sitting in my usual spot on the bench finishing up my meal. The simple conversation we carried cheered my soul and I relished in the feeling of belonging. We were together, and yet the idea did not seem foreign.

     I studied him in the firelight, his golden head tilted slightly down while shadows flickered across his face. With a satisfied sigh, he polished off his bowl of soup and set it on the side table beside the bench I rested on.

     We sat in silence for a moment. I stared at the crackling fire, aware of the eyes looking at me. Try as I might, I couldn’t resist them. I looked at him and smiled, without a word he stood and moved over to sit on my right side. His heavy arm reached over the bench and around my shoulders, hugging me to his side. Leaning down I placed my head on his shoulder sliding, fitting perfectly under his arm. 

     “Are you ever going to return home?” Patrick’s voice vibrated in his chest and thrummed against my ear. I tilted my chin to look at him, pondering his question. He gazed back down at me with honest curiosity.

     “I don’t know,” I said as I bit my lip and looked back into the fire. “I’d like to go back and see them, but if it’s safer for me to be gone then I’ll stay away.”

     “I see,” he said, but I got the feeling he wanted to say more. I waited, but he didn’t speak.

     “Do you know what happened to your family?” I asked, looking up toward his face again. 

     He inhaled deeply, the breath making me move with him. When he exhaled I accidently slid a little closer into his side but before I could move back his arm tightened pinning me where I was.

     “For a long time I didn’t know what happened to them,” he said as he gazed into the fire while he spoke. “When I had regained consciousness in Lathmor, I was confused. I knew what my name was, but it took a long time for me to put the whole story together in my mind.”

      I nodded, remembering how confused I had been the day I woke up and spoke with my father after my transformation. I couldn’t imagine how much harder it would have been to wake up to complete strangers.

     “But I can remember everything now as though it happened yesterday.” He shrugged, falling silent.

     “And your family?” I asked, still looking at him. He looked down at me and smiled softly.

     “Guess I didn’t answer that, did I?” My head rubbed against his shoulder as I shook it back and forth in response. “Well, like I said, it took me a while to realize who I was and then it took even longer for me to accept that I wouldn’t be going home.” Patrick sighed heavily. “But that wasn’t to be. Although, Tunder was nice enough to go and spy on them for me every now and then when he wasn’t busy. He was able to get away with it back then since he was only a boy.”

     I tried to think of Tunder as a child, but the thought was impossible. The dominating and commanding air with which he held himself could not be placed in a young boy.

     “Every year or so, he would sneak into my family’s house and live there for a few days, usually helping the servants. Each time he had a different disguise so no one would recognize him. He always told me everything he heard when he got back, and in some way it gave me a connection to them.” Patrick broke off and I let his words hang in the air.

     “My mother was the first to die.” He squinted into the firelight avoiding my gaze.

     “Tunder thinks she died of grief over my disappearance—it happened about a year and half after I was taken. My father passed away some ten years later in a hunting accident, leaving the inheritance to my younger brother who actually became a rather influential lord. He died when he was about fifty-three. My sisters both grew up and married into very wealthy families. They had fifteen children between the two of them. Tunder said they seemed happy and died of old age. And that’s all I know.”

     The fire seemed to roar in the quiet after his voice ended.

     “I’m sorry,” I said softly to offer him some comfort. He turned to me and shrugged.

     “It’s been around seven hundred years since they died. I’m used to the idea.” His mouth quirked at his jest, but the lines around his eyes showed his solemnity. 

     “What were their names?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t be too much to wonder.

     “My younger brother’s name was Bryon, the older of my sisters was Elspeth, and the younger was Gwendolyn.” I nodded to acknowledge that I had heard.

     For some reason I wanted to know more; to know these siblings who had been Patrick’s companions so many years ago.

     “How old were they?” I asked, I added, “If you don’t mind telling me?” He laughed softly and ducked his head closer to mine.

     “I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.” His lips pressed against my forehead softly and I sighed.

     “When I was taken away, Bryon was eighteen, Elspeth was seventeen, and Gwendolyn was twelve. My mother had lost two babies in between my sisters.”

     I pondered those words and realized just how much I missed my family. I could see their faces in my mind. Aaron’s mischievous eyes; Caitlin’s missing teeth; Sara’s dimples; Justin’s bouncy curls; Kaleb’s chubby cheeks; and Emly’s sleeping face. But the two identical faces that I treasured the most in my heart were the clearest of all, and I missed them the most. It was all easy to remember, yet distant as if they didn’t belong in the world I now lived in. 

     I sighed softly, and Patrick’s hand reached under my chin. Slowly, he lifted my face so he could look at me. His eyes were filled with a pity that only made my insides hurt more. I wanted to look away, but his gaze held me captive.

     “You’ll see them again,” he said tenderly. Somehow he had known what I was thinking.

     “Okay,” I said, my clogged throat sounding funny.

     In a gentle gesture, he leaned my head back down onto his shoulder and I began to relax in the warmth of his closeness. Falling into the steady rhythm of his breathing, I closed my eyes. I felt completely content with where I was. A sudden thought entered my mind and I voiced it almost immediately.

     “How have you lived alone this long?” I bit my lip, thinking I had spoken rashly.

     “Do you mean how have I not gotten bored with life?” I nodded, his wording making more sense. He cleared his throat in a business-like manner. “At first it was difficult. I was depressed most of the time and seriously considered suicide. But after a while I grew used to the idea and decided to wait for Morven to find me.” Patrick gave a short irritable laugh and looked down into my eyes. “I’m ashamed to admit that Morven was the only thing that kept me alive back then; I vowed to kill him before I died. I
still
hold onto that vow.” The last words were spoken fiercely.

       “It was then that I began to train myself in weaponry.” The thought of him fighting Morven still scared me more than I wanted to admit. But I did not voice my thoughts, knowing it would do nothing to change his mind.

     “Haven’t you gotten even a little bit bored?”

     “Of course,” he said nodding his head. “But what you have to understand is time moves quicker once you are changed. Everything seems to blur together. There are periods of years I can hardly remember because they were so uneventful.”

      “I’m sorry, but that sounds terrible.” How could he go on, each day being the same as the one before it, never knowing when it was all going to end?

     “It’s not so bad,” he shrugged. “After a while you get used to it. Living any other way would be strange for me at this point.”

     “So is that all you do to pass the time? Just practice with your weapons?”

      “No,” he replied and a humorous smile played around his lips. “I taught myself other skills.”

     When he grew silent, I prodded, “Such as?”

     “My carving,” he explained, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before. “When I lived in England, I was unskilled with my hands and I was never taught how to use them. Everything I know now I taught myself.” Patrick smiled to himself. “It was a rather large shock when the Lathmorians left me on the island—being the son of a Lord I had never taken care of myself before.” He laughed, his eyes far away remembering what must have been amusing memories of his struggles. “You have no idea how long it took me to build my first little hut, and it was hardly even worth living in. Not nearly as nice as this one.” He glanced around the room.

     He piqued my curiosity. “How many houses have you built?”

     “I usually try and build one every fifty years or so. This one is four years old, and it’s a little more over the top than the others. But I couldn’t resist when Elik and Daggin asked how many supplies I would need.” My brow furrowed and he explained. “Whenever I need things the island can’t provide, I get them from Lathmor or someone will go and meet up with Hugard.”

     “Who’s that?”

     “He’s a merman who lives among humans. He maintains a façade, moving often to not cause suspicion when he doesn’t age, but we use him to get certain goods. For the most part, though, the Lathmorians are self-sufficient.”

     I nodded my understanding while wondering where Hugard lived. To think of having to hide your true self from others for so long made me cringe. I had barely managed with a little over a month.

     “It’s a hassle, but without all the supplies this would’ve never been possible.” Patrick’s approving eyes swept the floor and ceiling.

      “I like it,” I confirmed.

     “I’m glad you do,” he said and pulled me closer. “There is something I want to apologize to you for.”

     I raised my head quickly to meet his gaze. What would he need to apologize for?

     “The way I left you in Lathmor” He took a frustrated breath as I remembered the anger in his eyes. “I was angry, not at you, just Morven. I couldn’t believe that the one person I had come to care about was in the same situation I was. It was hard enough wondering how I was ever going to tell you about my past, but to find out that you were a victim of his as well made me much angrier than it should have.” Reaching up, I touched his cheek softly with my fingertips. He turned his gaze back to me.

     “I’m sorry,” he said. “I saw how you were afraid of me that day. I never want you to feel like that around me again.”

     “You don’t have to be sorry,” my soft voice filled the space between us. “I’m as strange as you now. An outcast from Lathmor.” We laughed in the quiet night.

     “Yes. We are rather odd, aren’t we?” His dark eyes glowed in the firelight. “I’m sure you have never met anyone like me, and stayed around, huh?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but I knew what he was really asking. 

     “No,” I said. “I used to meet transformed mermen, but now this one I recently met is becoming a bit of a hassle.” He laughed heartily. “And to answer what you are really asking me, no, I have never dated anyone.” His eyebrows rose, and he shrugged his shoulders as though he was innocent. I couldn’t help but notice the self-satisfied expression on his face.

     “No I will challenge you,” I said and poked him in the rib. “Has there ever been another girl?” Patrick sighed heavily, looked away, and nodded.  

     “It was before I was changed.” His eyes were far off, but not happy. “I was betrothed to her, actually. One of those arranged marriages from birth.” He waved his hand and fell silent.

     “Was she pretty?”

     “She was… decent looking.” He fidgeted obviously, uncomfortable. I laughed, and he looked down at me curiously.

     “Hey, you started this whole thing.” I pointed at him, and he smiled.

     “I guess that’s true.” He inhaled, “well, I never really actually talked to her. At the time I was refusing to accept my father’s wishes.”

     “You wouldn’t marry her? Why?” I asked.

     “I was in love with someone else.” He cleared his throat and smiled. “She was a servant in our household. It was all quite scandalous, actually. The only reason I did it was to annoy my father.”

     Patrick laughed shortly and turned his gaze back to mine. My heart still fluttered at his look but I felt a small surge of jealousy towards this woman. Trying to purge my soul of the unwarranted feeling I looked away. Warm gentle fingers lifted my chin, but I kept my eyes downcast as long as possible. When I finally did look up, Patrick’s gaze was patient.

     “She’s nothing compared to you.” My heart thundered at the words. “Besides I hardly remember her. I used her and I’m not proud of it. But with you, I know I have someone who understands. You are my friend, which is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

         Shifting slightly, Patrick wrapped his other arm around my body, tucking me beneath his chin. His woodsy smell filled my nostrils and I found myself content and protected in his arms. His chest rose and fell, gently rocking me to sleep. Slowly, like a water droplet falling off a leaf, I drifted into the world of peaceful dreams.