Dark Water: A Siren Novel (22 page)

Charlotte. Her lips weren’t moving … but somehow the noise was coming from her. It lasted five seconds, tops, growing in depth and volume and wavering at the end, but it was enough for her fingers to straighten, her skin to smooth, her white hair to darken to gray.

And then it was over. She dropped her hand from his chest and gave him the Frisbee.

“Thanks.” He blinked and took the plastic disc.

Charlotte put her sunglasses back on and returned to her sandwich. The guy stood there another second or two before backing away. There was another note, this one so soft and short, I thought I might be hearing things, and then the guy shook his head, turned, and jogged toward his friends. He didn’t look back once as he returned to them, or after their game resumed.

“What
was
that?” I asked.

Charlotte, as though finally strong enough to feel her appetite, ate hungrily.

“He didn’t even look at me,” I said. “It was like I wasn’t sitting right in front of him. That—and please don’t take this as anything other than an appreciative observation—hasn’t happened in a very long time.” I motioned to her arm. “And look at your skin! It’s so smooth, like you just finished a monthlong swim or something.” I glanced back. “He’s totally oblivious. It’s like nothing happened.”

“To him, nothing did.” She polished off the sandwich.

I thought of my reflection in the bathroom mirror at the lake house the other day. Is that why I’d looked so pretty? Because I’d screamed in the basement—or tried to, though the sound had come out very different—with my arms around that guy? And his response had energized me, shaving unnatural age from my physical appearance?

“Does he know he came over here?” I asked, returning to the present.

“Yes, but he’ll remember only taking the Frisbee from the table. He won’t remember our brief conversation.”

“But how’s that possible? I mean, you actually touched him, and for several seconds.”

Charlotte placed her hands on the table, stood slightly, and lifted one leg, then the other over the bench. Her body was still frail, but steady. Our knees grazed under the table as she leaned closer.

“Vanessa, what you’ve been experiencing—the inconsistent energy levels, the sudden thirst, the debilitating fatigue—will continue. In fact, it will worsen. The only way to stave off the symptoms for longer periods of time is to invite the attention, both emotional and physical, of a member of the opposite sex—preferably someone who’s interested in another girl, and whose attention you have to work for. This was the case with Parker, yes?”

“Yes, but I can’t—”

“Do that to Simon again. I know. That’s why I demonstrated a shortcut.”

“A shortcut … to what?”

“Your target’s heart. Using physical contact and your inner voice. It will never provide the same long-term results as forging a more intimate relationship would, but it does a million times more than that bottle of salt water you just polished off. And if done correctly and often enough, it will get you from one day to the next without having to do anything more.”

I tried to make sense of this explanation and what I’d just
witnessed. “But isn’t that kind of hard? To go up to some random guy and do what you did—especially in public, with people around? Or do you wait for a beach to clear?”

“It’s not easy,” Charlotte admitted. “None of it is. It’s up to you to decide which battle is worth risking the potential consequences.”

“So that’s it? I start a relationship with some guy I care nothing about and lose Simon now and forever, or I hypnotize lots of guys for short periods of time and hope no one notices? Those are my only two choices?”

Her head lowered. I hoped she was wracking her brain or listening to another older, more experienced siren, one who could offer a more appealing alternative—preferably one that didn’t involve
any
random guys.

Whatever she was thinking was soon interrupted. A scream pierced the air, drowning out the oldies music and making both Charlotte and me jump. I swiveled on the bench and scanned the shore. There were only a dozen or so people on the pier besides us and the Frisbee crew, and even fewer on the beach. It didn’t take long to locate the noise’s source.

It came from a couple near the bronze fisherman statue—the same one Paige said all tourists needed to preserve forever via digital and cell phone cameras. The girl, still yelling but not quite at the same pitch, shoved the guy. He reached for her, put his arms around her, pulled her toward him. She yelled again, squirming in his grasp.

I was so busy trying to decipher the words in her rant, I didn’t
notice what she was wearing right away. When I registered the khaki shorts, black T-shirt, and black apron, I leapt up from the bench and started running.

“Vanessa!” Charlotte called after me.

“Be right back!” I shouted back, yanking my phone from the pocket of my shorts. I opened it as I ran, keeping my thumb poised over the nine. The police department was so close to the pier, there was a good chance an officer could see the scuffle without getting up from his desk inside, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

As it happened, I didn’t need to call 9-1-1. The dispute broke up as I neared, and the guy stormed off to a blue SUV with Vermont license plates. The girl strode toward the beach and dropped onto the sand, covering her face with one hand and her neck with the other.

“Are you okay?”

Natalie gasped and looked up. “Vanessa?”

I dropped to my knees. “What happened? Who was that?”

She looked past me to the other people scattered across the pier and beach. “Oh no,” she groaned, now using both hands to cover her face. “I’m so embarrassed!”

“Don’t worry about—” I stopped when my eyes fell to the thin pink ring around her neck. Stretches were turning purple, already bruising.

“That was me.” Natalie held up a broken silver chain. “My hands were shaking so hard, I couldn’t undo the clasp, so I
grabbed it and pulled as hard as I could. If only I were Sandra Bullock and this was a movie and not my life, it totally would’ve worked—without anyone getting hurt.”

My internal alarm quieter, I sat back on my heels. “That was your fiancé?”

“
Ex
-fiancé.” She made a fist, pounded the sand once. “I’m such an idiot.
Why
am I such an idiot?”

Remembering Charlotte, I turned and gave her a small wave to let her know everything was okay. Seeing other spectators, I waved to them, too.

“It’s just—Will told me he wanted to talk. He said it was so important, we needed to meet in person. And then he drove seven hours to get here!
Seven
hours! Before today, the longest he’d ever driven to see me was forty minutes—and that was only because there was a blizzard and he didn’t want to be snowed in at home without his iPod, which he’d left at my house.” She aimed her fist at the sand again, but it lost momentum and landed with a soft
plop
. “Idiot me thought he wanted to get back together.”

“You’re not an idiot,” I said, then paused. “But that’s not what he wanted?”

“Not even close.” She brought her legs into her chest and rested her forehead on her knees. “He wanted the ring.”

“Your engagement ring? Why?”

“To give to his new girlfriend? To sell so he could buy something else for his new girlfriend? Who knows? Who cares?” She sighed. “
I
care. Because—”

“Because you’re human,” I finished. “Anyone else in the same situation would react the same way.”

She rolled her head to the left and looked at me sideways. “Really? Anyone else would scream and yell and put on a mortifying public display of epic proportions?”

“You thought that was epic?” I asked lightly. “Please. This is a tourist town. This pier has seen way worse than that—especially when people who’ve spent too much time in the sun during the day decide to drink the night away.”

One corner of her mouth lifted, then fell. “It was enough to make you come running.”

I nodded. “Yes, well. After Carla and what happened at Betty’s the other day … I guess I’m on high alert. But that’s my issue, not yours.”

“Well, thank you anyway.” She sniffed, brushed at her eyes. “Paige said you were a great friend. She wasn’t kidding.”

Wanting to make sure she really was okay, I sat next to her and we fell into a comfortable silence. I thought about how suspicious I’d been, how wary of her friendship with Paige, and I felt bad. She was going through a tough time. Why
wouldn’t
she want to latch on to someone else? And immerse herself in a totally different world to help forget her own? I knew better than anyone how tempting that was.

A few moments later, she sat up straight and slapped her palms to her thighs.

“That’s it. I’m not going to waste one more second thinking about him. Guys just aren’t worth the effort or inevitable
agony.” She jumped to her feet and held out one hand to help me up. “Except for maybe yours. What do you think? Is he worth it?”

I took her hand, started to stand—and immediately fell back. My legs, either from the emotional stress caused by what I first thought was happening to Natalie, the physical exertion it took to reach her, or simply my body’s normal process, were exhausted.

As if on cue, a Frisbee landed in the sand next to me. Its owner left the group of twenty-somethings down the beach and ran toward me. My eyes raised up slowly until they landed on his chest.

“Yes,” I said. “He is.”

C
HAPTER 17
 

“I
T’S DARK IN HERE,”
Simon said.

“It’s a movie theater,” I reminded him.

We were sitting in the back row. As the preshow ads played, he scanned the other rows in front of ours. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea. We haven’t been to the movies together in years.”

“I know, but … wouldn’t you rather watch a DVD at one of our houses?”

“And forgo the big screen? The ambience? The
popcorn
?” I shook my head—and the greasy container. “Nope.”

He settled back in his seat and looked at me. He smiled but his eyes were worried. He wanted to be here and have a normal date, just like I did, but he couldn’t help wondering who else was in the audience.

“Nothing has happened,” I said quietly. “It’s been days and
not one new headline, e-mail, or trip to the ER for stitches.”

His eyes lowered to my injured hand, which was clasped loosely in his. The wound was healing well and you wouldn’t notice the bandage unless you looked directly at my palm, but Simon didn’t need to see proof of the basement attack to remember that it had occurred.

“There’s been no sign of the orange truck at the marina, right?” I asked.

His thumb stroked the top of my hand. “Right.”

“And look—there are at least fifteen people in here. Who’d try anything with so many eyes and ears around?”

The ads gave way to previews. Simon leaned across the armrest and tilted his face toward mine. We kissed just as the dim overhead lights went out.

“Did you see that?” he whispered, pulling back.

I did. It was a quick burst of white that lit up the theater before fading. “There.” I nodded to a group of kids a few rows down. They were laughing as they made faces and took pictures of one another with a cell phone. “They’re too young,” I added, before he could worry they were the ones I’d seen by the lake a few weeks ago.

The movie started a few minutes later. The Winter Harbor Cinema had only two theaters and between our choices of a comedy or a drama, we’d gone with the former. It was a good move because Simon seemed to relax, putting his arm around me and pressing his lips to my temple in between funny scenes.

I was at ease, too—at least at first. But we weren’t even half
an hour into the movie when the familiar discomfort began to take over. I shoved salty popcorn in my mouth by the handful and drank Simon’s soda after finishing the water I’d snuck in my purse, but it wasn’t enough.

This is ridiculous
, I thought to myself.
I’m not even
doing
anything. I’m just sitting here
.

It didn’t matter. So I stood before I no longer could.

“Restroom and refill,” I explained softly when Simon sat up. I took the empty paper cup, kissed his cheek, and climbed over his feet. “I’ll be two minutes.”

I was briefly blinded again when I reached the lobby, and it took a second to remember it was the middle of the afternoon. Blinking against the daylight, I tossed the cup into the trash and made a beeline for the ladies’ room.

Which, unfortunately, wasn’t empty. Of three stalls, two were occupied. To buy time, I entered the third and took care of business.

When I came out, a girl was at one of the sinks, washing her hands. Our eyes met in the mirror on the wall, and I thought I saw something flash across her face. Was it surprise? Recognition? Had I seated her at Betty’s lately? Whatever the expression, it came and went too quickly to tell. I offered a smile just in case, and her mouth turned up for an instant as her gaze dropped.

I went to the sink one down from hers and turned on the water, which, thankfully, took several seconds to warm up. By the time it did and I washed my hands, this girl would be done
and gone and the other still in the stall would be on her way.