Chapter 38

In the living area,I find everyone preparing for the Council feast. I don't have the heart to tell them that I sense something terrible coming. And nothing Liam's told me about the Council has reassured me they'll be fair. But in the best island tradition, I throw myself into the preparations for a celebration. We spend the day cooking, sewing, lugging things around. But everywhere I go, Evan seems to be there lingering, always trying to catch my eye.

"I never got the chance to thank you for what you did," he says when we're finally alone.

"No need," I say, glancing up from the onion I'm chopping. "I can't wait to see what great art you're going to create."

His cheeks flush pink. "I need to finish that portrait of you. Then I'm going to start another."

"Of me?"

His smile vanishes. "There's no one else I'd rather paint."

Oh, no. Have I led him to think there could be something between us? "You can go anywhere now," I say, laughing. "There's lots more interesting stuff out there than me."

Solemn brown eyes meet mine. "I'd like to paint you in the Garden. The way your skin glowed in there. I can't get it out of my mind."

I sigh and return to chopping the onion into bits. "I'm not sure we should speak about the Garden. Especially around Liam. He doesn't like people talking about it."

"Screw Liam," Evan says, surprising me with his venom.

"Did you two have a fight?"

Evan shakes his head. "I'm ready to get out of his shadow. All my life it's been him taking care of me. I'm sick of it. Sick of him."

"It's only because he cares about you."

He shoots me a look. "Everything is effortless for him. He's never had to work for anything."

"Evan," I say, abandoning my onion. "Can you imagine what it's like for him?"

"Maybe I don't care," he says, then storms out into the front yard, the screen door slamming behind him.

I chop the next onion, baffled. This is not the same sweet, wistful boy I first met in the field of Lady Skirts. I shrug it off, but it's hard not to think that in less than ten weeks, Liam will return to the sea, and three months later, his family will follow. I steer clear of the third rail of my thoughts, the one I can't allow myself near: the possibility that the Council will decree this to be Liam's last summer on land.

Lila and Aurora wash my hair, combing through the snarled mess with perfumed oils until my auburn curls gleam like copper coils. Lila, her charm dialed up to maximum, keeps a running dialogue on how I'm a legend across the nearby islands of the archipelago, and would Mrs. Bailey like another sweet roll?

"Look what we have for you, Rosalie!" Aurora coos. I'm struck by how her manner has changed since the healing. Like Evan's transformation, her boisterous warmth makes me uneasy. By tampering with nature, have I committed some kind of sin? Changed them in a fundamental way? Is this why the Council's rules are so strict?

Lila and Aurora present me with a sparkling gown woven of tiny crystalline flowers crocheted together with multicolored vines. It looks like it's made of diamonds. "How's this for making an impression?" Aurora says.

"It's breathtaking," I say, taking it in. "Did you make this?"

"It's a hobby of mine," Aurora says with a small smile. "You never know when you need a party dress on this island."

Lila sweeps the dress around the room like a dance partner. "Wait until Liam sees you in this!"

Aurora casts her mother a look. "Mom?"

"Oh, of course," Lila says, as if realizing her faux pas. "The whole island is going to go mad over you!"

Lila and Aurora have made similar dresses for themselves. Aurora, restored to gleaming beauty, is in a gown of shimmering bluebells. Lila's is constructed of tiny violets. I smile appreciatively. I'm pretty sure that no matter how much they try to dress me up, no one can outshine two Sirens wearing gowns that are literally alive.

It's sad and beautiful—that their powers to entice and enchant are for naught. A cruel and perfect punishment meted out by Randy.

And me, with more secrets that can crush their already overburdened hearts. Maybe they never need to know about Tyler. Maybe I should lay that knowledge to rest along with him.

* * *

In the late afternoon,Mrs. Bailey and Evan help Wade into the great room. The Baileys seem to have taken responsibility for him and I wonder if it's because as Outsiders, none of them are aware of the full extent of the Lamberts' treachery.

As the sun lowers to a blazing pink ball in the sky, we spot the arrival of the first boats from the cottage's back window. Jittery, I check on Dad, but he still hasn't roused.

"Liam," I say, when in a rare moment I catch him alone. "What do I do about my father?"

His brow furrows. "I didn't expect him to get this bad so quickly."

"What do you mean? What did you think was wrong? He told me about the dementia."

Liam shakes his head. "I-I'm sorry, Rosalie. I felt the trouble in his brain—the unraveling that Randy slowed. With Randy gone, it's returning. But—it's more than that."

I close my eyes and press my fingers into the bridge of my nose and remember what my father said about the island's corrosive effects on Outsiders and those of the Diaspora with diluted blood. Is this what's happening to him? "Then I need to heal him."

"That's not a good idea," Liam says, his lips compressed. "Not until we know Randy's status. It could be…"

A bloodcurdling scream erupts from my father's room. I rush in, the others on my heels. In the corner, eyes wild, Dad bats his walking stick at an invisible attacker. "Get away! Stay back!"

"Dad!" I try to get near him, but he's still fighting his unseen foe. I duck and one of his swings narrowly misses my head.

"It's a bout of the ague," Lila says quietly.

"Dad! It's Rosalie. No one is going to hurt you!"

He takes another swing. "Make it go away!"

Liam, Aurora, and Evan finally manage to wrestle the stick away and restrain him. Lila pours some of her tea down his throat. Finally, he settles and murmurs to himself, eyes darting wildly.

"What the hell is the ague?" I ask, heart hammering.

"Every few years our people take sick with it," Lila says. "Most recover and it recedes. Your father is afflicted with occasional flare-ups. No one knows what causes it. We live with many mysteries on this island," she adds. "The ague is one of them."

Liam gives his mother the side-eye and gestures to the front door. "Come outside to the gardens with me."

We slip into the cool evening air, the terraced gardens catching the rays of the setting sun in hues of pink, gold, and blue. Their beauty soothes my frayed nerves a little, but not enough to quiet them. Being this close to Liam makes my blood rush. We settle on a rock bench and watch the sun balance on the lip of the horizon before dropping below.

"This is where I come when I feel sorry for myself," Liam says. "It's mine for only three months out of twelve, but I remind myself that in winter it's barren and buried under snow." He smiles, pearlescent eyes lifting to meet mine. "I never really liked snow that much."

I return a half-hearted smile and fight the urge to take his hand, because he probably wouldn't let me. The thought makes me ache inside. "You didn't bring me out here to tell me that. It's about my father and this sickness your mother calls the ague."

"There's no such thing as the ague," Liam says. "It's Randy."

I play with the edge of my t-shirt. "It's always Randy."

"Did you know that right before your aunt locked herself up inside a tree, everyone was convinced she'd killed him? He's been at this game a long time. Your aunt was hell-bent on stopping him. There was a battle up in the meadows. She came back, bloody, beaten up but victorious. She'd opened a bog-hole and buried him in it. I remember the celebration, even though I was only six."

I lift my gaze to look directly at him. "So, what happened?"

He sighs. "The first indication of trouble was when Mama's older sister, Naya, took ill."

I sit up straight on the stone bench. "Your mother has a sister?"

Liam's voice goes soft. "Had. Naya and Millicent were good friends. Naya was beautiful. She was in love with Randy—but, Randy…well, he was only interested in Lila."

"What does this have to do with my father?"

"I'm getting to that. Naya's illness came out of nowhere, the worst case of ague Mama had ever seen. We still had some salttain then, but Naya wasn't recovering. Your aunt was heartbroken. Mama suspected something was wrong and tried to talk her out of it, but Millicent healed her friend anyway. By the time everyone realized what was going on, it was too late. Randy had used Naya as a conduit to build his strength."

"A conduit," I repeat. "Are you saying Randy used Naya to return from the dead?"

"We don't fully understand the source of his powers," Liam says, his tone grim. "Randy used Naya as a vessel to suction Millicent's power and secrets from her. To stop him, she turned herself into a tree."

Horrified, I gape at him. "So that's what happened. What about Naya?"

"Naya," Liam says, "was Randy's wife. She died giving birth to Brody."

Holy crap. "So everyone on this island really is related."

"Do you understand what I just said? If you heal your da, Randy will use him as an open channel to you. And he will truly own your da's soul. Or kill and discard him like a used napkin. Naya's death was horrible, according to the midwife. Before Brody's birth, no one had seen her for years."

Icy fingers of fear coil around my throat. I stare at him, incredulous. "If I heal my dad, Randy will use him to get to me?"

"And worse," Liam says. "By healing Wade, you've already kickstarted the process."

I think of the black presence I'd felt during Wade's healing. Wade had tried to warn me that something was coming. Was that Randy? But, no. What had Wade said? He's as bad as Da.

"If you knew all this, why did you encourage me to find the salttain to heal Evan?"

Blue shadows blanket the garden. Liam's hands curl into fists. "Maybe I didn't believe you'd find it. Or maybe I thought, since Evan is an Outsider, Randy couldn't use him. So far he hasn't, as far as I can tell. I don't know anymore, Rosalie. It's possible…" His gaze snaps to mine, then tears away. "Never mind."

"What's possible? Spit it out."

He closes his eyes and shudders. "That just your arrival on the island has made him stronger."

My nails dig into the tingling symbols on my palm. "I never asked to come here, Liam. I never asked for any of this."

"I know," he says, then turns to face me, eyes liquid with pain. I fight the need to pull him close as he continues, "Mama thinks I'm being petty about Wade. She has a way of sugar-coating things. She's buried her memories of Naya deep down. But I have a lot of time at sea for thinking."

I look away, shaken. The admission that he's fully conscious as a seal is another blade between my ribs. "What about my dad?" I whisper. "Is there any hope?"

"I didn't mean to upset you," Liam says softly. "It's too risky for you to heal him, but I can put him in a Narcovine pod to keep him stable."

My teeth chatter. The earth shudders a warning beneath my feet; a terrible storm is brewing. "Are you sure he'll be okay?"

"Rosalie," Liam says, rising to his feet, "it's the best I've got. Short of taking him to the Garden."

Hope lifts my heart. "Can't we do that?"

Liam shakes his head. "And risk drawing Randy there? We can't take a chance like that anymore. The stronger he gets, the less effective the wards have become. I've been trying to bolster them, but they keep fading out."

I think of Tyler and how he and the phantoms helped me extend the ward that hid me from Randy. If only I understood how power works here. So far it's been like piloting a fighter jet without any training. "Liam," I say, almost ready to divulge the truth about Tyler. The words dance on the edge of my tongue, but something holds me back. I realize it's Tyler himself, steering me, helping me find the right moment to break the terrible news.

And this isn't it.