Chapter 25

Liam goes hometo check in on Lila and Aurora—and, for the love of all that's holy, to find some clothes. No wonder Aurora is so convinced that he's the island Romeo. He spends half his time stark naked.

But in the wreckage of my dashed hopes—which persist despite having recently learned that Liam spends nine months out of the year as a seal—I unearth a pearl.

Aurora hinted at it. And he as much as admitted it: he feels the same way about me, as I do him.

I head back to the cottage, my mind spinning. There's so much to unpack, I don't even know where to start. I just know my heart pounds with adrenaline. And that my scientific curiosity has found a new focus.

My prime directive has shifted. Instead of saving the island from environmental ruin, now I must untangle the mysteries of Liam O'Donnell and save him from this island.

Did Tyler know about this? How odd if he did.

But I also need to know why Liam is pushing me away. So what if he's a seal? Seals are cute.

As it turns out, I don't get a chance to process much of anything. Three steps toward the dunes, the path to the cottage fills with a thick mist that billows toward me like smoke from an open mouth. Randy Lambert steps out of the fog and strides onto the beach.

"Your da said I'd find you down here," he says with a smile. "Strange weather tonight, isn't it?"

He edges closer, and I feel soothed and comforted despite myself. Is it possible Randy has the power to manipulate the weather? Or people's perceptions? Or maybe both?

"Did my dad call you?" I ask, fighting the feeling.

"No, sweetheart," Randy says, his smile broadening. The fog dissipates as his grin grows. "I believe that was you. You were loud as a klaxon. I take it you need something from me?"

I step backward, toward the water's edge. I'm cornered between this man and the sea. "What do you want?"

"You're the one that reached out to me. But since you ask, maybe we can be of assistance to each other instead of getting in each other's way."

DidI call him? Was he that other point of light on the weird grid that led me to the water's edge? "I'm not doing anything to anyone, Mr. Lambert," I lie. "I'm hanging out with my father and then heading off to college."

"It's Randy, sweetheart. And there's no point lying to me. I've got eyes and ears all over this island. You've been up to all kinds of things. Interesting things. Forbidden things. None of which surprise me, if I'm to be thoroughly honest."

He smiles. My thoughts scramble like a lost radio signal. I struggle to form a coherent response.

"First, a word of caution about Liam O'Donnell and his family," he says when I don't answer. "They are people it's best to avoid."

"We're barely even friends," I say, thinking of how Liam told me that on Salttain, you never know who's listening. At the time, I'd thought maybe that was just another avoidance technique. But I guess he was telling the truth.

Randy laughs. "This is how the O'Donnell family works. They suck people in, take them for whatever they're worth, then discard them. Like Aurora did with Brody. Like Liam is doing with you."

"Whom I associate with is none of your business."

"Everything on this island is my business. Ask your da."

A wave of cold pushes at me. Then, like when I first perceived the matrix of light that maps the island's energies, I feel a pull as nebulous threads twist free from the grid. The energy field warps and undulates toward me from Randy, as if he's bending it, then somehow dissolves and falls like a cool rain, leaving me untouched and unaffected.

Randy has attempted to manipulate me somehow. And failed.

I can't let on that I've disintegrated his energy net like it was a flimsy spiderweb. "You helped him relocate here," I say, trying to sound indifferent. "So what?"

Randy steps closer. "I gave him his life back. Do you know about his curse?"

"What curse? What did you do to him?"

Randy closes his eyes and smacks his lips as if he's sipping a rare and costly wine. Is he feeding off my feelings—my reactions—like some kind of emotional vampire?

"I had nothing to do with it." His eyes go hard, the smile gone. "Speaking of which, you should ask Liam about curses. How every small defiance subtracts another day from his life as a land-dweller."

I stiffen. Am I one of those so-called defiances that's draining Liam's already scarce time? "You've lost me."

"The boy doesn't appreciate how I cover for him. His teen years have taken quite a toll."

Randy Lambert may play poker with people's lives, but I'm not going to let him goad me. "And why are you here?"

"You were the one who called me, sweetheart. Something about helping the Bailey boy?"

I bite my lip. Was he eavesdropping on my conversation with Liam—or did he really hear me through the ground? "Uhh—well. I can use your help with something. Maybe."

"Attagirl. Your luck at finding something that hasn't been seen on this island in decades is uncanny. Far more than I'd hoped for. And useless for you if you can't get the sick boy out of his bed. But, you see, I can get Mrs. Bailey to agree to anything."

Behind the forced charm, I detect a gnawing hunger. I can see the physical manifestation of his power, the invisible filaments that float around him like windblown grass.

"What do you want in return?" I say. "Everyone on this island has their price."

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says. "I thought that was clear enough. I get Mrs. Bailey to let you experiment on her dying kid, and you fetch me enough of the stuff to heal Brody. You and Liam help me find Wade. I don't report Liam. Brody gets to go back to work."

The filaments shift, expanding and recoiling. If I could properly read them, I'd know if he's baiting an elaborate trap. "If I say no deal?"

Randy's face crumples, the picture of melancholy. "Sweetheart," he sniffles. "It's a da's worst nightmare. My youngest has gone missing, possibly fallen down a bog-hole or worse, all because he wanted to find a cure for his poor brother. Brody's in bad shape. Lost vision in one eye. Too dizzy to stand. Can't work. Mainland hospitals ask too many questions. Can't we work together?"

I don't believe his poor-me act for a second, especially since Liam insinuated that Randy might be the reason Brody's so badly injured. Still, his need, whatever its source, is deep and real. I rub my chin, wishing I could peer into the workings of his soul as easily as I can see the manifestation of his power.

"Okay," I say, at last. "First, you help me figure out how to get Evan out of the house and onto his boat. I'll take care of it from there. Once I'm done, I promise to help Brody." The idea of helping that monster sickens me, but I don't feel I have a better option. I'm beginning to understand how the Lamberts use their power to keep the islanders in line.

Randy extends his hand. "We've got a deal, sweetheart."

When I take hold of his hand, a mild shock travels up my wrist. The mark on my palm shimmers and the filaments of power around Randy evaporate like frost over a flame.

"One more thing," he says. "You keep an eye out for Wade. Tell Liam he might want to help find him before people in town go casting blame."

The threat is unmistakable. I glare at him, but he's unmoved.

Instead, Randy tips his hat, like we're having a regular, cordial conversation. "Best we get a move on. From what I hear, the Bailey boy's close to breathing his last."

He strides toward the path to the mansion. I follow, wondering about this strange enclave of the descendants of Atlantis—their roles and motives. My role in this magical mystery tour. And if I've made a choice that will save Evan and help Liam, or a pact with the Salttain Island devil himself.