Dark Water: A Siren Novel (15 page)

“Wow,” Paige said.

I agreed, though I couldn’t speak. Not only did my mouth feel like it was stuffed with cotton, I was instantly paralyzed by the image of Simon and me. It was the picture that had
interrupted us last night, and though I’d seen it on the small camera screen, it looked completely different now. Because it was blown up, I could see just how tightly Simon’s arms held my waist. And how deeply my fingertips dug into his neck. And the way our bodies pressed together, like we were strapped together and about to jump out of a plane twenty thousand feet in the air.

“I’m surprised you even noticed the flash,” Paige joked.

I reached across the table and closed the laptop.

“So what does this mean?” I managed.

“It means,” Simon said quietly, “that these people are serious. They’ve done their research.”

“But they could still be anyone, right?” Paige asked. “The
Herald
covered the drownings pretty thoroughly last year. They probably just read the back issues online.”

“The
Herald
gave general locations,” Caleb said. “The lighthouse, the pier. It never said anything about second rock to the left, or rotting piece of driftwood closest to the lifeguard stand.”

“But that’s impossible. Besides the police and other emergency responders, the only people who knew exactly where the bodies were found were …” Paige shook her head, stopped herself. A second later, she shoved back her chair and jumped up. “I’m going to check on our order.”

As she disappeared into the crowd, Caleb stood, too.

“I’m going to check on our Paige,” he said.

And then it was just Simon and me, alone the way I’d hoped we would be when he’d first asked me to dinner. Only instead
of talking and laughing and reconnecting, I was gripping my empty water glass with both hands and he was slowly shredding his paper napkin.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he finally asked.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I was already worried.”

“I know, but …” I exhaled, looked at him. “I didn’t want to do this.”

His eyes lifted to mine. “What?”

“Focus on who—what—I am. And let it get in the way again.”

“Vanessa, even without these pictures and what you overheard … you’d still be you. We’d still have to deal with it.”

It. Like who I was was a problem. A disease. Something irritating and bothersome for which there was no known solution or cure.

“You’re right,” I said. “Of course you’re right, but—”

I was stopped by a sudden, familiar sound coming from the next room. Simon looked up, his face tense, and I knew he heard it, too. One by one, nearby diners stopped talking and listened.

To Paige.

Who was in the next room … singing.

C
HAPTER 12
 

W
HAT WAS THAT??

What was what?

Paige. Come on
.

It was REO Speedwagon. How could I resist?

By taking 1 look at any of the faces staring back at you. That’s how
.

I leaned against the Jeep and waited. When the cell phone screen remained dark, I sent another text.

You know what our voices do to them. Why mess around?

Still nothing. I wanted to call and ask her these questions directly, since I was certain she knew better. If nothing else, she knew that Raina, Zara, and the other sirens had sung in order to lure their male targets to the harbor floor during the Northern Lights Festival last year. So why be so careless with her power?

Unfortunately, the call would have to wait. She was with
Simon and Caleb, who were driving her home, since she lived closer to them than she did to me. And they’d just left after following me all the way to my driveway to make sure no one else did, so she wouldn’t be able to talk for at least another twenty minutes.

Call me when you can. xo, V

I hit Send and headed for the house. Fortunately, Murph’s Grill didn’t skimp on the salt when it came to their food; if they did, I wouldn’t have made it through dinner without falling face-first into my fries. We’d even changed the subject from murders and stalkers after Paige returned to the table, since that was presumably why she’d left in the first place, and I’d still felt my throat closing and my skin tightening like I was lying on the beach, baking in the sun. If Simon hadn’t been driving ten feet behind me, I would’ve broken speed limits and blown past stop signs all the way through town to get home as fast as possible.

Because I wanted to swim. I
needed
to swim.

“I’m home!” I closed the front door, dropped my purse to the floor, kicked off my sandals. “I’ll come say hi in a second. Just need to take a quick dip first!”

I started for the hallway leading to my room—and stopped when my eyes caught the reflection in the windows to my left.

It was the kitchen doorway. Through which I could see the table … and who was sitting at it. The view didn’t change when I turned around and looked at the actual doorway.

I crossed the room, noting various items as they came closer.
Three coffee cups. A half-eaten cheesecake. An overnight bag. Slippers.

“I didn’t know we were having a pajama party,” I said, entering the kitchen.

Mom’s spoon, with which she’d been stirring her drink, froze. Dad choked on the coffee he’d sipped.

Charlotte smiled.

“Hello, Vanessa.”

“Hi.” I looked from her to my parents, who were doing their best to recover. “What’s going on?”

“We were just having some dessert.” Mom jumped up, squeezed my arm as she passed me to get to the cabinets. “Sit. I’ll get you a plate.”

“That’s okay. I’m not hungry.” I stood next to the counter.

Waited.

“How was the fabulous foursome?” Dad asked finally, then turned to Charlotte and spoke like I wasn’t there. “Vanessa met up with some friends for dinner. Paige, the sweet girl she met last summer, actually spent the school year with us in Boston. And the Carmichael boys—”

“She knows who they are.”

Dad’s mouth snapped closed. Behind me, Mom dropped a fork. The utensil clattered against the tile floor.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Charlotte was just passing through town.” Mom’s voice was pleasant, like my biological mother was a distant cousin she didn’t know well but was still happy to see.

“I know. But what is she doing here? In our house?”

I looked at Charlotte as I asked this. She opened her mouth to explain, but Mom beat her to it.

“We bumped into each other at the market. When Charlotte mentioned she was staying at the Lighthouse for a few days, I invited her to stay here instead.”

“And she accepted?” This, too, I aimed at Charlotte.

“Yes.” Mom’s voice was soft near my ear. “It’s okay, sweetie.

Really.”

I wanted to believe her, but it was difficult. They’d only met once, the day the sirens had dragged Simon and me to the bottom of the lake. Given what had happened between Charlotte and Dad, how could Mom play hostess like nothing was weird or wrong? Was it because she thought I’d want Charlotte as close as possible? Even though she thought I hadn’t seen her since the day at the lake?

“Your father was just telling me about your private beach,” Charlotte said. “I’d love to see it.”

“I’m sure Vanessa would love to show it to you,” Mom said.

The dull ache that had lingered in my chest since dinner suddenly sharpened. I hadn’t lied earlier—I really had been happy to see Charlotte. That was one of the reasons I’d asked her to extend her stay. But between the two, my allegiance to the woman who raised me trumped my allegiance to the one who’d caused her so much pain. It always would.

Which was why I said, “Sure. How about right now?”

“I don’t know.” Dad glanced at the windows facing the water. “It’s late, and dark. Why not wait till morning?”

“Because,” Charlotte said, sliding back her chair. “I think Vanessa and I have both waited long enough.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by this, but it stopped Dad from protesting further. He looked down and poked at his cheesecake as she stood. Her legs quivered briefly and she gripped the side of the table for balance. I almost expected him to leap up and throw one arm around her for support, and was relieved when he offered to help Mom clean up the kitchen instead.

And Charlotte was fine. She still moved with the speed of an arthritic woman twice her age, but she was more than physically able to walk from the kitchen to the back door without assistance.

The stone staircase leading to the beach, however, was another story.

“Go ahead,” she said, stopping on the top step.

I stood on the step below hers and held out one hand. “They look steeper than they are. We’ll just go slowly.”

She shook her head. “You need to swim—I can smell the salt evaporating from your skin. I’ll be down there by the time you’re done.”

“Don’t you want to swim, too? Won’t you feel better? Less tired?”

“I might wade a bit and if I do, I’ll be fine. I promise.” She tilted her head. “Please, Vanessa. Go.”

The longer we stood there, the heavier my body seemed to
weigh. I was torn between listening to her and insisting on helping her down the steps, but if I stayed a few seconds more, we’d probably both be stuck.

“Okay,” I relented. “I won’t be long.”

I jogged down the steps, looking back twice to make sure she was okay. She hadn’t moved the first time, but by the second, she’d made it to the next step. Reassured, I ran the rest of the way to the beach. I considered running up the other side of the lawn by my bedroom so I could change into my swimsuit, but then decided I didn’t have the strength. Instead, I waited until I was hidden from view by rocks before shedding my jacket and skirt. Then, wearing only my underwear, bra, and tank top, I dove into the ocean.

I had to be more stressed than I realized because it took longer than usual to feel the familiar rush of energy flow from my fingers to my toes. Thinking about that only made me worry even more, which made it take longer. Hoping to quicken the process by infusing my body from the inside as well as the outside, I opened my mouth and drank while I swam.

Several minutes later, my feet hit sand and my head broke the water’s surface. Moonlight shimmered against my bare legs as I pushed through the surf, and without meaning to, I thought of Simon. Feeling instantly guilty, like an uncontrollable part of me wanted to convince him to be with me by any means necessary, I focused on the beach—and Charlotte.

She’d made it down as promised and sat in the sand, letting the foamy runoff curl around her outstretched legs. She
looked away as I crossed the beach, allowing me time to pull on my skirt and jacket, and waited until I sat beside her before speaking.

“I’m very sorry for startling you again. I had no intention of showing up unannounced, but when Jacqueline … your mother … and I got to talking, she insisted I stay here.”

Her voice was uncertain as she said my mother’s name and corrected herself, and for a second, I was compelled to try to explain the difference between them and ease her worries. But then a cool rush of water flowed across my feet and the urge passed.

“I know,” I said. “She’s been on a mission to be as accommodating of my condition as possible. That apparently includes giving me round-the-clock access to you.”

“This all must be very difficult for her.”

“Probably a million times more than she lets on.”

“I’d be happy to invent a reason to leave and stay at the inn, if you think she’d be more comfortable.”

I considered this. “Thank you for offering … but now that you’re here, she’d probably feel even worse if you left.”

“Because she’d feel she was depriving you?”

“Exactly.”

She nodded thoughtfully. A moment later, my cell phone rang. I pulled it from the pocket of my skirt to see Paige’s name flashing across the screen.

“I’ll call her back,” I said, before Charlotte could say it was okay to answer. Now wasn’t the time to talk about what
had happened at Murph’s. I started to replace the phone as it beeped with a new text message.

V, just tried calling. Totally beat, going to bed. Talk tomorrow??

In the next instant, another text popped up.

BTW, S? 100% smitten. You guys are SO getting back together!!

My heart raced as I typed.

Appreciate the confidence, as always. Talk about everything tomorrow. Sleep well
.

“That must be nice,” Charlotte said. “To have a friend you want to talk to ten minutes after seeing her.”

I smiled. “It is.”

“Were you and Justine that close?”

The question caught me off guard, but I managed to answer. “Closer.” Which was hard to imagine, since Paige and I, in many ways, had more in common now than my sister and I ever had … but still true. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” She sounded pleased.

I looked at her. “It’s personal.”

“I don’t mind.”

I formed the question carefully. “Were you ever in a relationship? Like, a real relationship? With someone you didn’t …”