Ripples (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

     He laughed, “Exactly what I was thinking.”

     “Are you headed back to the house?” I asked, somehow my legs had already recovered and I could feel the desire to get moving again.

     “Yep,” Derek said and slammed the bed of the truck shut. “Want a ride?”

     “No thanks,” I declined, “I’ll walk.”

     Sean looked to Derek, “I guess we can too, then.” His twin nodded and we all began to trudge down the street to the little pathway behind Darrow’s Catch. My legs shook as we began to climb the hill toward the house, but the feeling was both painful and wonderful at the same time.

     Up ahead we heard the sound of kids screaming playfully in the yard, beside me Sean and Derek began to walk faster. As if having one brain, they stopped just outside the edge of the trees near the house and began to make snow balls from the freshly fallen snow. A thrill of anticipation leaped through me and I bent down to help them, the need to be part of something other than sorrow spurred me on with a greater force than I thought imaginable.

     From our spot in the trees, I could see Dad and the kids playing out in the snow. Their shouts of laughter filled my ears and I watched as Aaron tried his best to pummel his father with meager snowballs that had been made in haste. Off to the side, Caitlin tried to help while Sara simply grabbed onto one of Dad’s legs and hung on for dear life as though she could keep him from escaping. Her little body wrapped up in her puffy jacket made the scene all the more comical and a hint of laughter passed through my lips.

     Gasping, I held a hand to my mouth and let the joy I was feeling spread to the tips of my body. It was like coming to life after being dead for so long and I rejoiced in the returning of myself. Snatching one of the snowballs from my elder brothers, I broke our cover and dashed across the pavement and threw the snowball with perfect accuracy. Its target took the snowball to the face with a surprised grin that turned into laughter, and Dad tried to shake the bits of snow from his whiskers.

     Without hesitation, Aaron changed targets and tried to throw his hastily-made ammunition at me, which I expertly ducked.

     “Wait Aaron!” I yelled, laughing, “We’re about to be attacked!”

     He paused mid-throw and right on cue, the twins burst out of the trees, their arms filled with snowballs. Caitlin and Sara squealed with delight as they saw the two familiar faces headed their way, but quickly retreated when one of the balls hit Caitlin in the chest.

     We dashed here and there, our bodies heaving as we made and threw snowballs at one another. One moment I was someone’s enemy, and the next I was their partner fighting off foes back to back, until Sean yelled, “Every man for himself!” He began running behind people to thrust snowballs down the backs of coats and warm sweaters.

     He tackled me by wrapping his arms around my legs and I came to an abrupt halt falling in the snow. I howled but to no avail, the cold snow was shoved under my fleece coat and against my skin. A loud squeal turned into laughter and I kicked away from him, only to be grabbed again. But I was saved by the raining balls of snow that came from the little fists of Sara and Caitlin, who upon realizing they were next, screamed and ran for the house, only to be cut off by the other evil twin.

     I laughed from my spot in the snow as I watched Derek pick one sister up in each arm and hold them out to the torment of Sean, as he threatened to push snow down their jackets. Their laughter resounded throughout the area.

     “Lissie!” I heard the little voice on my left and saw Jillian coming over the ledge with Emly in her arms, Justin and Kaleb toddling by her side.

     “Hey!” I said as the little body pushed his way through the snow and wrapped himself around my stomach. Almost slipping as I stood, I held Justin against my hip and let the closeness fill my heart with warmth. This, this is what I had been missing. It wasn’t the same type of love, but it was still love. Just having the chance to feel something was enough to make me forget, if only for a moment, what had happened.

     Turning to look at my family, I felt something I thought I had lost so many months ago. The night Emly was born was the night I realized I didn’t belong and I had left. But once I had found those who were like me, it had all been taken away and here I was again at home. Just as a wave breaks over the shore, I realized I had been wrong.

     Whipping the tears of joy from my eyes, I snuggled closer to Justin and kissed him on the cheek. It was here that I belonged, and I always would
.

The joy of the winter’s day still pumped through my veins, but it faded into the background as every day cares pushed their way into focus. It wasn’t the pain of loss, but instead the acceptance of my family that made me face my past in a different light. As the days went by I reveled in my comfort at home, even though the aching desire for Patrick still filled my heart. And although I tried to fall asleep with a clear mind, there was nothing I could do about the nightmare that woke me each night.

     Even now the numbers on the horrid red clock glared at me from across the room. It was only one in the morning and though I had gone to bed early, I felt like I hadn’t slept for days. It was because of that dream. The dream of Patrick, and his desperate cries to find me. Cold sweat beaded on my brow and I couldn’t shake his voice from my head.

     It had been about a month since I returned to Coveside and though I worked most days, I was still left to face this nightmare each night. During those hours at work I didn’t have to think about anything as long as my hands were busy. As soon as I got home, however, I would hear his voice again and I struggled to stay aloof, but was beginning to fail. Sometimes I was afraid to go to sleep at night and hear his voice, which seemed to grow stronger each time.
When would it stop?

     With a frustrated sigh I kicked off my covers and headed out my door. I knew where I was headed. The past few nights I had slept downstairs on the couch. Somehow it helped me fall back asleep, even if it was only to dream of that beach again.

     I threw my body down on the soft couch and pulled the wool blanket, which was always on its cushions, over my body. I slowly relaxed my muscles and tried to think of happy things, which took more control than it should.

     Finally my mind slipped away and I prepared myself for the nightmare that was to come…

     I woke up gasping, I would have thought that the dream’s strength would start to lose its power over me, but it was quite the opposite.
His
voice was getting louder and I grew more desperate. I had tried running toward the sound of him, but that only ended in me falling to the ground and I would wake up. I now just stood in my dream, I always tried to yell back to him, but no matter how loud I yelled, he never heard me.

     I rubbed my face with my cold fingers and sat up searching for a clock. I wondered how long I had been out and silently hoped it was near morning, but from the dark shadows outside, I could tell I hadn’t been asleep long.

     My eyes found the clock and I internally swore. It had only been an hour. Leaning back against the couch, I looked around the room and wondered what I could do to entertain myself. Slowly, my eyes roved around the room, grazing over the television and the bookcase against the wall, when they noticed a dark shadow pressed against the wall. I peered at, trying to decide what it was in the dim light coming through the windows, feeling as though it didn’t belong there.

     Quite suddenly, the shapes came together as the outline of a person. For one second I froze, and then jumped over the back of the couch quickly as though it could provide some barrier between us.

     “Who’s there?” I said frantically and cursed myself for leaving the dagger up in my room.

     “I came to talk to you.”

     I froze. I knew that throaty, hard voice but I had only heard it once before in a very similar shadowy situation. It was the Hyven soldier who had told me of Patrick’s death.

     “What?” I said, not unaware I was holding my hands slightly in front of me as though they would provide protection.  My sense were on full alert, if he was here, then Morven could be too.

     “I need answers.” The deep voice said through the shadows and the figure took a step forward, to which I stepped back. My eyes widened in disbelief. The shadowy figure that had stood in Hyvar was not the same one before me now. This person was huge; his size overwhelming. I looked at the incredibly broad shoulders, the thick chest, and long, muscular legs and tried to figure out how he had changed so much. 

     “You are the same merman that I spoke to in Hyvar, right?” I asked, even though my voice shook. 

     “Yes.”

     “Oh,” I said. My heart was thundering in my chest. It had to be the same merman, but his body was so large he rivaled Morven and Tunder in size. My mind grappled with his reason for coming. “What do you want to know?”

    “Why did you let me live?” he asked, his voice dipping low. I searched for the right words, unsure of his motives.

     “There was no reason too,” I said as calmly as I could, though my stomach was clenched in a knot and my hands shook.  “You told us what we needed to know and we left.”

     There was silence and I could sense that he was searching my face. My heart still raced and I waited for him to move, but after what seemed hours, I couldn’t take it anymore.

     “Anything else?” I asked, hoping he would say something but he remained silent. For some reason the other part of me wanted him to talk. “Do you have any other questions?” I asked again, not sure if he had understood.

     “No,” he said, the simple word silencing any further thoughts I had about what he wanted to know.

     Somewhere in the back of my mind a thought took shape and I could feel the words forming on my dry tongue. Twice, I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Instead, I remained silent and counted my heartbeats as I waited for him to speak again.

     “Why do you live here?” he asked, the words pronounced carefully as though he had tested them in his mouth before giving them voice.

     I blinked quickly, “Umm, because—” my voice drifted off and I raised a hand to my head. A notion of what he was doing entered my mind and I wondered if I could turn his own questions around on him. It had been so long since I’d had a connection to the merfolk world. I yearned for it, and the desire to hear news, any news, was overpowering. As my heart relaxed, I wondered what I could do to make him talk. I wanted to know if the others were safe.
Maybe he knows what Morven is up to.  

     “Would you like some hot chocolate?” The question was random, but I hoped that if he was put off guard he would reveal something he didn’t intend to.

     “What?”

     “Would you like some hot chocolate?” I repeated and explained more fully. “I was going to make some for myself and wondered if you wanted any.” I spoke with a confidence I didn’t know I possessed and hoped the layer of false hospitality wasn’t too evident.

     “No,” his one word was bitter.
There goes that.

     “Would you at least come and sit at the table? We could talk there if you want.” I suggested and turned to walk to the kitchen.

      After a moment, I heard him follow me, his boots making soft footfalls on the wooden floor. I wanted to turn around and look at him, but refrained from doing so. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Once I had grabbed the box of coco mix out of the pantry, I couldn’t take the temptation anymore and turned.

     I froze and the box fell from my hands, the small packets spilling out all over the floor. I hardly, noticed because there
he
was right in front of me. It was Patrick, his eyes, his face, his hair, everything. He was all there, standing before me in my kitchen, leaning against the solid wooden table.

     He watched me with curiosity and restraint; his arms folded across his broad chest and his eyes wary. He held his chin differently; it was fierce and reminded me of Morven. Although I tried to shake the thought from my mind, the more I looked at him the more I realized how much he resembled the Hyven leader. The massive shoulders and arms, coupled with his glaring eyes as he took in my expression only furthered my observation. A myriad of thoughts filled my mind, and I didn’t know what to do.

     “What?” he asked, his voice was deep and reproachful.
Doesn’t he know? What happened to you?

     Then the words came back. A memory of what Shaylee and Tunder had told Patrick and me so long ago. I remembered them speaking of a siren and a warrior. At the time I had only been worried about myself, now, the memory hit me hard and I realized who this was before me. Morven had succeeded. This was his warrior.

     “Do you know who I am?” I asked, my voice cracking. I hated to ask the question, but I needed to know.

     “Lissie, I believe that’s your name.” He said shifting his shoulders beneath his black shirt in a manner that suggested he knew he was right. Yet, there was no recollection in his eyes aside from the memory of me in Hyvar. He didn’t know me; I was only a girl that he had seen once before. Sorrow ripped at the edges of the wound he had made when he told me Patrick was dead, but I took a deep breath and held my fear back only to have it replaced by anger.

     Fury that I had often felt toward Morven was nothing compared to the hatred I felt coursing through me now. He had taken away Patrick’s mind, beat him senseless and turned him into a piece for his twisted game against the Lathmorians. My hands were shaking and I balled them into fists to keep it from being so obvious.

     “What’s your name?” I asked through my tightened jaw and forced the tears of fury back.

     The warrior hesitated and his expression was so foreign on that familiar face that I wanted to scream.

     “Zale,” he said.

     “Zale,” I tested the name in my mouth. It name fit the stature and look of the warrior in my kitchen. He was haughty and angry, nothing like he used to be. This was a different person.

     “Are you going to make that?” He said and looked down at the spilled hot chocolate packets on the floor.

     “No, I don’t want it anymore,” I confirmed and bent to pick up the strewn contents. He watched me as I put the box away and when I went to sit at the table he took the seat opposite me. For a moment we measured each other up. Internally, I was quaking with anger and grief, but struggled to stay calm. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare, but I knew that I couldn’t. 

     “You still haven’t given me a good enough answer.”

     “I told you there was no point.” My voice was defeated and I looked at my hands. I couldn’t look into those hard brown eyes knowing they used to be so soft and warm.

     “I could’ve alerted the whole castle and you would be dead now. The Lathmorian you were with was right.”

     “Not necessarily.” I mumbled under my breath and continued to avert my eyes.

     “So that’s it?” His voice was so gravely, “You didn’t kill me because there was no reason. What about the human?”

     My head shot up. “Just forget it.”

     “No,” His eyes were fierce. “I came all the way here to find out why you didn’t have him kill me when you had the chance.”

     “You came here by yourself?” I asked quickly, “Morven didn’t send you?”

     Zale’s face paled slightly. “No, Lord Morven didn’t send me. And you would do well to refer to him as such.” His fingers tensed on the table.

     “Why should I? I am an ally of the Lathmorians, not the Hyven.” I spit the name of his fellow merfolk back in his face. His teeth ground together, and for a moment I wondered if I should anger him. It was certain that he could kill me a hundred different ways with his bare hands, and I was sure he was carrying some sort of weapon beneath his shirt.

     “Then why do you live here, instead of in Lathmor? I could kill you easily and pass it off as a simple murder. No one would ever know the truth.” An evil grin crept across his mouth.

     I didn’t answer his questions; and his vicious grin broadened.

     “So you’re an enemy of the Hyven, and you’ve been exiled from Lathmor.”

     “I haven’t been exiled.” Tears threatened my eyes once more and I looked away.
How can this be him?

     “But you don’t live there do you?” He had a point and I couldn’t argue it.

     “Why don’t you just kill me if that’s what you came here for?” I sighed, not sure if I wanted him to. Seeing his face this way made what little hope I had become dust strewn across a dirty floor, that once stepped on disappeared without a trace.

     “I’m not going to kill you.” He said, his voice softer than before. I looked up and saw a dark glow that burned in his gaze which gave me the oddest sensation. A small knot formed in my stomach and I swallowed past the lump in my throat as my heart stilled. By his simple clarification, I had the feeling he was telling the truth. He wouldn’t kill me, and in some way, it seemed he meant the words more than he could explain.

     He cleared his throat and said, “I came for answers.”

     “And I already told you my reason. I don’t know what else you want.” I let my hands hit the table softly, suggesting innocence.

     “I want to know who the human was.”

     My breath caught, and I shook my head. How could he ask me something like that? I looked away into the dimly lit living room. My eyes avoiding the large merman that sat across from me.
You’ve done your work well, Morven, he doesn’t even know himself.

     “No,” was all I could say. I concentrated on keeping my emotions intact. This body that used to be Patrick’s would never know I loved him. He would never know I had kissed those same lips, and had looked deeply into those brown eyes and heard words of love come from that mouth. He would never know the way I had felt in his arms, and how when everything had gone crazy, he had been the one place of stability. It would only make my pain worse.