Chapter 46

I waketo soft beeping sounds that echo around me like crickets on a summer night. My nerve endings all have an urgent message for me: Ouch.

"Rosalie? Can you hear me, honey? It's Mom."

Mom. It occurs to me that maybe I'm like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. That some kind of terrible accident has occurred and everything I experienced was a dream.

I want to ask if I'm back in California. If I ever left.

"Where are we?" I ask, my voice as creaky as a rusted hinge.

She fiddles with the cuffs of her lab coat. "Bouchard Institute Research Clinic, Snag Island division—on a heavily-warded hunk of rock a few miles north of Salttain. Part of the compound's reserved for research into global health and environmental issues. Much of it is a school, but the bulk of it is reserved for treating ailments of a more unusual nature."

My heart pounds. "So the Bouchard Institute isn't really in Switzerland? I thought that was the whole reason for my attending Lausanne this fall."

"It was. And you will. Switzerland houses the public portion. Snag Island Clinic is the headquarters for the International Diaspora Center for medical treatment of the People of the Hand."

Mom says the next part like she's been holding the words back and it's a relief to let them go. "It's also the location of the Second Pinion. The First Pinion, located on Salttain Island, is still intact, thanks to you, but greatly weakened."

So, not a dream.

"Is Randy gone?" My voice is hoarse, barely audible.

"Yes, the bastard's truly dead at last. That was your doing, no thanks to the Council Elders, who are loath to admit it. But I'll deal with them as needed. As I always have."

She pulls a tissue from her lab coat pocket and dabs at her eyes. "I tried so hard to make you a strong, knowledgeable, and competent woman. I wanted you to be successful and independent in the Outsider world. Like I am. But things got so very out of control on Salttain. I've always feared you were too much like Millicent—that this confrontation," she says, "was inevitable."

She waits for my reaction, but I stare blankly at her. The sight of my mother shedding tears is nearly as frightening as facing Randy Lambert.

"Where's Aunt Millie now?" I blurt, my eyes snapping open.

My mother's face grows grim. "We hope to have the tree moved here to Snag Island where we can better tend to it, but so far, your aunt is resisting our efforts."

I try to sit up. "She's not inside a tree! I saw her with you in the Garden!"

Alicia Bouchard Gatell smiles and shakes her head. "Only temporarily. Your channeled power enabled her to take on the form of Clarice's body for a brief spell. Her spirit either resides in that tree, or she can join the souls of the dead in the Garden. Perhaps you can reason with her to be transplanted here where I can better tend to her. Though we're twins, Millicent and I have never been able to see eye to eye."

I close my eyes against my tears. My aunt is a tree. How nice it would have been to have a living Millicent in my life. "What about Liam? Can you help him?"

My mother rests a hand on my shoulder, her tone soothing. And highly suspect. "He's still under a Council curse, dear. I plan to appeal, but the process can take years. And there's the matter of his skin—though we were able to retrieve it, it's been horrendously damaged."

Propping myself up on my elbows, I cut her off. "But there's hope, right? Can't your medical team restore it?"

"We're doing everything we can for Liam." My mother heaves a deep sigh. "But I've had my hands full with keeping the Council away from you. You're my first priority, especially after almost losing you."

"I don't care if I'm in trouble. You have to save Liam!"

"You're not in trouble, Rosalie. You're a hero. The Council is hesitant to admit it, while they scramble to figure out how they allowed members of the Fist to infiltrate the Salttain archipelago."

I stare at her. "What the hell is the Fist?"

"Oh, dear. I'm just babbling away, aren't I? The Fist is the sleeper terrorist organization that put Randy up to this. Made the idiot believe that he was the Chosen One to save the planet from an environmental cataclysm. If only I'd recognized how effective he'd been at manipulating your father and poor…er…Tyler. I had no idea he'd tracked him. Befriended him. I suppose a foster kid like Tyler would be susceptible to a strong father figure. Your dad also tried to resist, but Randy's charms are hard to resist," she says, her face coloring. "I should know."

I lay back on my pillow, my head spinning. "What about Dad—where is he?"

"Still on Salttain, refusing to leave, refusing further treatment. Being a stubborn ass, as always."

"Let me talk to him. Let me go there to help him."

"It's too late for that, dear. He doesn't wish to face the inevitable. Without Randy's interventions, his early-onset dementia will accelerate."

My heart sinks. "You and your fancy Institute can't do anything for him?"

"I tried to shield you—" Mom sighs again. I've never heard her sigh this much. "Be grateful for the time you had with him. Randy violated the law to keep him well and used it to control him. The Council forbids such intervention in conventional human ailments." She rests a hand on my shoulder. "I blame myself for all of this, Rosalie. But if only the Council had spent more time on Randy and his cohorts, rather than enforcing their archaic laws and curses on unruly teenage boys, maybe none of this would have happened. If only I'd had more faith in you instead of trying to cover you in bubble wrap."

Tears press at the back of my eyes. If only that were the case, thenLiam would be with me. Maybe Tyler would be, too.

"The Fist is still out there," she says, "and the Council is clueless."

"Misery loves company," I mutter.

Mom closes her eyes and shakes her head. "This was not how I'd intended for you to spend your pre-college summer. But," she continues, "I am so proud of you. Typically, children of the Diaspora all go through the initial shock of learning the truth of our ancestry. Still, I didn't intend for you to wind up in the middle of a terrorist plot."

"So Randy was what—some sort of a delusional hit man?"

My mother shudders visibly. "You could call him that. We've spent eons keeping our abilities under wraps—mostly to protect ourselves, but also to protect humanity from us. We don't always agree on methods, but we have a pact to keep the mainstream human population safe. No one wants a repeat of what happened to Doggerland, aka Atlantis."

"We, being whom?"

"Our governing body, the Grand Council of the Hand. I'm on the Regional Council representing the Confederated Diasporic Peoples—in other words, families like ours who live in the outside world and whose blood is diluted. We don't have full voting rights. But we do have representation. Think of it like Guam and the United States. As I've already said, it's not how I intended your initiation to unfold. Things went completely awry. You've been traumatized. But we have ways to help you with that."

I clench my fists. "What do you mean?"

"Ways to help you remember things differently."

"No!" I sit up abruptly, pulling at my IV line. "I won't let you steal my memories of Liam! Or Dad! Or how Tyler died! Did you take Liam's memories of Tyler? Did you know Tyler was really Liam's brother Fionn?"

"Yes. But that was Millie's doing. She had him placed near us. I argued against it, knowing you two would inevitably be drawn to each other. But Millicent is….obstinate. I'm sorry." Mom narrows her gaze, lips puckered. "So, that bastard Randy Lambert told you about my abilities. Did he tell you how he swiped my memories and used them to find, manipulate, and kill Tyler? How he looped your vulnerable father into his scheme? Memories are dangerous things, Rosalie. And we're up against a terrifying enemy."

"You said Randy's dead."

"He is. But there are more like him in the Fist. And I doubt they'll give up now."

I fall back onto the pillow. "It's time to stop protecting me. Let me fight my own battles."

"As you like," she says, at last.

I almost laugh at the sight of her perfectly delineated mouth pressed into a scowl. It feels good to win, finally.

My gaze wanders to a tall, rectangular package wrapped in brown paper. "What's that? Another present from Aunt Millie the tree?"

Mom chuckles. "No, of course not, darling. Just a moment." She clacks over to the package in her perennial heels and unwraps it. A moment later, she props the contents on a chair.

I gasp. It's the painting Evan made of me.

Tears roll down my cheeks. "I forgot about this."

"Clarice left it with a note. She wanted you to have it, so someone would remember Evan, since…well, that's a sad story. Let's not dwell on it, shall we?"

Ever the pragmatist, Mom gazes admiringly at the painting. It's vibrant and colorful, and so evocative of that summer evening on Salttain, I can almost smell the Lady Skirts and hear the surf. Evan even managed to finish the eyes and dot the surrounding foliage with glowing flowers.

"It's a good likeness. That poor boy was quite talented. Don't you like it?" Mom asks, noticing me swipe at a tear.

"I love it. Thank you. When Evan first painted me, he said this was how he saw me. I didn't believe him."

Mom turns to me. "Do you believe it now?"

"Yes."

This is not the Rosalie Gatell who left California for Maine.

This is Rose.

The Rose Tyler always believed me to be.

The wild, savage Rose Liam brought out in me. Strong. Fierce. Free.

And currently alone.

"It's time for your lunch," Mom says, with her keen eye for changes in my mood. "But first, you have a visitor. She's come every day in hopes that you'd wake up. I can't hold her back much longer."

Her? I comb my mind for a her who would want to see me so urgently besides my mother herself as she leans over to kiss my forehead, then leaves. A moment later, the door swings open, and Aurora saunters in, looking none the worse for wear in jeans and a t-shirt, dark sunglasses perched on top of her head.

"It's great to see you awake, even if you're still hooked up to all this stuff." She gives me a careful hug, then dangles a miniature plastic globe hanging on a cord of twine. "This is yours."

Inside the globe is an intricately woven glyph—the same as the one on my palm—made from dark knotted threads, alongside a charred bit of pitted bronze.

"Lila found the remnants of the charm you were carrying around in the Garden," Aurora says, touching her finger to the place where the bronze presses against the glass. "We knew it was Fionn's. All three of us—Liam, Fionn, and I—used to have them. I guess Fionn took his with him when he…left." She wraps her arms around herself, as if she's cold. "Liam and I still have ours. But," she quirks an eyebrow, "it's not like we have a way to keep them, when we're gallivanting around in the ocean. I bought this globe from the General Store, which, amazingly, wasn't wrecked. They only had these cheapo plastic ones."

Aurora smiles and winks. I bite my lip, amazed that Tyler's charm has found its way back to me—and guilty that I was never brave enough to tell Aurora the truth. "So they told you about him."

"Your da did—as best he was able. Lila gave me the charm for you. She's been at sea, watching over Liam."

"Is he—okay?"

Aurora shrugs. "He's a seal. Doesn't talk much. But I feed them all sardines every afternoon. It's a fun time."

I shake my head and manage a laugh, because if I don't I'll start crying again and never stop.

"He was making this for you," she says, pressing the pendant into my palm. "But he didn't get the chance to finish. So I did it."

I blink and struggle to focus. The woven glyph that hangs next to the remains of Tyler's charm isn't made of thread, but rather, hair. Very dark hair. Liam's hair. Tears spring afresh from my swollen eyes.

Aurora unscrews the plastic globe and removes the pendant. I loop the cord and the chain over my head. "Thank you for bringing it to me. And when you see Liam again, please thank him, too—if you think he can understand."

Liam's hair and Tyler's charm.

Two brothers, together next to my heart.

She bows her head, then gets up to leave. I know she doesn't want me to see her cry.

I lie still as the door swings closed, the pendant clasped in my fist. No matter how much it hurts to lose Liam—how much it still hurts—the warmth of this pendant is a comfort.

When my lunch arrives, my mother briefs me on what I missed while out cold. Half of Salttain Island was knocked into the sea, but the port is being rebuilt, the row of stores remarkably undamaged. The Garden was partially destroyed, but apparently repaired itself. Authorized Council members are stationed there to aid survivors.

Tears well in my eyes again, reminding me that I left Evan's body there. He needs to be laid to rest, next to his father...unless he got sucked into the giant hole I opened in the earth.

My mother continues. Following my lead, she's apparently decided to level with me. There have been no further sightings of the salttain plant. Only a small amount was salvaged—just enough to help heal me. With the Garden regenerated, Council members are working to reconstruct the fountain. Charles Bailey's tree still stands, undisturbed.

"Well," Mom says after I polish off my lunch. "It's good to see you have an appetite. What you really need to think about is getting well. We'll worry about what comes next when you're better."

My hand rises to the pendant. Mother glances at it, kisses my cheek, and leaves.

* * *

Having suffered multiple broken bones,a concussion, and a fractured pelvis, I'm treated with salttain healings combined with therapy and traditional medicine. But mostly it's my ruptured soul that needs healing and care.

I'm making slow, but steady progress. After a few months of self-defense training, Mom still thinks I will definitely be able to attend Lausanne in the spring. I don't know if I want to.

Randy's methods may have been insane and misguided. But he was right about one thing: Tyler's and my dad's work to rescue the planet we all share from a terrible fate is unfinished.

When I was finally able to get online, I saw that Waverider left the Climate Warriors group. I can't help but wonder if that was Wade all along, cajoling me, manipulating me. Tracking me.

I've deleted the group. Eventually I'll find other means to save the planet. I'll follow my heart, guided by my new understanding of my heritage and abilities.

For now, I need to save myself.

Aurora visits every day. I can't help but think about how far we've come since those first days on Salttain, when she warned me off her brother.

On this particular afternoon, she and I go for a walk. Halfway to the waterfront, the craggy terrain of Snag Island reminds me so much of Salttain, I beg to retreat to the sterile white halls of the clinic.

"The air will do you good," Aurora insists. Arguing with her won't get me very far, so I don't bother. But as the crash of the surf grows louder and the salt air fills my lungs, panic sets in.

"I want to go back."

"Not yet."

We reach the water's rocky edge where the wind is harsher—sharp and cold on my face. Summer is over. I look out to the sea and wish I could be with the boy who will never walk the land in human form again.

"You're leaving now, aren't you?"

"That part of me's unchanged, Rosalie." Aurora smiles, her black lashes wet. "I'm indebted to your father. He kept my seal skin in his cottage basement. It was the one place Randy never thought to look."

I brush a strand of hair from her eyes. "You can always stay with me, wherever I am."

"I know," she says, her gaze flicking over my face. "But I need to be with my family. Liam is a mess. It's taking him a long time to adjust."

I stare determinedly at Aurora. "My mother hasn't been able to get the curse lifted yet, but I won't give up."

"I know that, or you think I'd leave you here alone?"

Without waiting for a response, Aurora strips and dives gracefully into the waves. I trace the pendant at my chest, desperate to stop her but knowing I can't. Three forms emerge and disappear beneath the surface.

Rather than sit helplessly, I pace the shore, analyzing every bit of information I have. My new life follows different rules than the one I was trained to understand, but I'm still Rosalie the science girl, after all. There must be a way to lift this curse—I just have to find it.

As the water flows calmly past, small glyphs etched in the stones catch my eye. A message for me? An answer to my quest?

I wade in, the cold only fueling my focus. My vision blurs with tears but I keep going, immersed up to my neck, when something bumps against me. As arms encircle me, I struggle fiercely until a rough voice whispers in my ear.

"Don't turn around."

Shock roars through me. "Liam? What's going on?" Disobedient, I struggle to look.

"Trust me, Rosalie. I'll explain everything, but you have to have faith."

Is it really him?

Heart hammering and frozen to my bones, I squeeze my eyes shut as I'm pushed out of the water and onto the craggy rocks, then led to—judging from the damp smell and dripping water—what must be a cave.

"Open your eyes."

I draw in a quick breath and wheel around. Liam's silhouette is outlined by the gray light that creeps into the cave. I rush toward him, but he steps back.

"Wait."

"What's wrong? Let me see you."

"I—I'm not supposed to be here."

"But you are here. Unless I'm still unconscious and this is a dream."

"Your mother… I owe her my life. My human life, that is. What little I'm permitted to enjoy of it."

My chest aches with the urge to throw myself at him, to bury my face against his chest and breathe in his ocean scent. "Why won't you let me see you? Because you're stark naked? You think I'd mind that?"

Liam huffs out a soft laugh. "There are clothes left in here for me. For all of us. I just—I heard the explosion. Saw half of Salttain collapse into the sea. I had to see for myself that you were okay."

"Are you? Why won't you let me see you?"

"Rosalie." He says my name like a prayer. Like a plea. "My skin was—is—I'm not quite healed. I look…I'm hideous."

"I don't care!" I blurt. "How can you think I would?"

"It may take years for your mother to free me of the curse. Years I'll need for my skin to heal. And even so, I may never resemble the boy you remember. But I came to warn you…about the danger out there."

"The Garden has restored itself. It will heal you. You don't need to warn me about anything. I know the world we belong to is dangerous. I could die at any minute. Which is why I want to see you. To be with you right now."

He takes another step further away, as if he plans to bolt and dive into the waves. "Your mother's taken a great risk to herself—and to you—by allowing me to see you now."

I feel my insides tear like paper. "You've seen me. Now it's my turn to see you."

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a low rasp. "Maybe it's better you remember me…as I was. Even my Siren's allure can't overcome this."

"How can you even say that? I don't care what you look like! And besides"—I take a step closer to him—"I don't need to be compelled to love you, Liam."

His breath catches in his throat, as if he hadn't dared to believe this was true. But still, he argues. "It's dangerous for you. Randy may have invoked the Edict, but the Council can still invoke the Edict—on you. There's nothing else they can do to me," he says, his voice so distant, so forlorn it makes my throat burn.

"I told you I don't care."

I hear him exhale, and it's almost a sob. Then he steps backward out of the cave, and I follow.

When I get my first full glimpse of him in the sunlight, I try not to react, try not to gasp at the ravaged form before me. He's wearing a pair of simple cotton pants, his chest bare. His bones have mended, but his chest is a raw, red patchwork of scars and seams, as if he's a quilt of human skin sewn hastily together. He lowers his head so that his damp curls obscure his face. I step closer, my heart hammering, both wanting to, yet too terrified to see what's under his curtain of wet hair. I take his hands. They're no longer stiff, but red and covered with an intricate tracery of welts and scars. Carefully, I push at his chin with a finger and he lifts his face to look at me.

I hold myself steady, but my insides shudder from the shock. Liam's face is pitted and raw, rough as a weathered rock. One silver eye gleams out at me, the other a blank white marble.

"Oh, Liam," I murmur.

The single silver eye looks away. "Your mother warned me that the damage may be permanent. Even if the curse is revoked, this will be the body I return to."

"None of that matters," I say, pulling him toward me and running my fingers through his sopping curls. "I want you with me."

He pulls away to stare at me. "You still want me? Like this?"

"More than ever."

He lets out a deep sigh and steps back. "It's not worth the risk."

I step forward. "I'll be the one to decide that."

Liam holds my gaze, his breaths quickening as I close the distance between us once more. We stand only inches apart now, his gaze searching mine. Then slowly, hesitantly, his good eye slips closed as his hands come up to cradle my face.

My own eyes fall shut at his gentle touch, as soft lips brush against mine in a featherlight caress, setting my skin on fire. A sigh escapes me as his arms slide around my waist, pulling me flush against the hard planes of his torso. I melt into his embrace, savoring the feel of his body against me.

Lost in each other, we retreat further into the darkness of the cave. We kiss like starved animals, devouring each other, and I'm sure that if I stop, I'll suffocate because he's the oxygen in my veins. I can't fathom being apart from him. Can't fathom how I'll live knowing he's out there, waiting and watching. I don't care what he looks like. To my heart he's just Liam.

He rolls off of me with what feels like an effort and sits a distance away, arms hugging his legs, fully visible in a ray of daylight that creeps into the cave entrance. "We can only meet like this once a year. But," he says, his voice hoarse, "wherever you are, whenever you are, seven tears in the ocean will call me to you. Even when you stop calling, I'll be out there."

My heart lurches. "Why would I ever not call you?"

"Rosalie," he says, rising to his feet. His gaze is pinned to me, as if he's trying to fix this moment in his mind forever. "Your life will be different, filled with new responsibilities and dangers, but you'll move on. You'll age…" he comes closer, crouching down to kiss me softly on the forehead. "And I will only age to physical maturity, trapped forever at eighteen."

I inhale sharply, my chest taut. I hadn't thought of this. "But the curse…I'm sure we can get it revoked..."

He holds my face in his battered hands. "In our world, curses are binding. Even if the Council wanted to reverse it, they can't."

"I don't buy that for a minute, Liam. I'm not going to rest until I find out how to break it."

"Don't promise me anything," he says. "Just know that this—what we had—it was worth it, for me. I would do it all over again, even for our short time together. I would do it again and again for all eternity."

Before I can react, Liam bounds out of the cave and across the rocks. In a graceful arc, he dives into the gray ocean.

I clamber after him just in time to see a single seal leap from the waves, bob its head once, then plunge into the sea.