In The Dark Of Dreams Part 15

You are going to live, he told her silently. You are going to live, and nothing else matters.

His dream woman, his dream friend, in the flesh.

Alive. So alive.

Would A'lesander have killed her, too? Like Pelena, who also trusted him? Lonely Pelena, who would have been intrigued by his presence, despite A'lesander's exile? Who would have remembered only her childhood friend-and not thought about the man he had become?

Perrin pushed himself harder, ignoring the strain in his muscles, the fatigue. Pelena, dead. Her kra'a gone. He had never imagined that. Not even a little. There were myriads of reasons for the beast to wake, but the murder of a Guardian? That had never happened, not in ten thousand years.

And if Perrin had not thought of it, then likely no one else would, either. Guardians spent so much time alone, there was no way to know for certain whether the rest of his people were yet aware that Pelena and her kra'a were no longer bonded.

Though if the earthquakes have started, then they must realize something is wrong. They'll be looking for her.

Just as Perrin would be looking for her kra'a.

Unfortunately, there was only one person who could help him locate it. And she might be just as happy to see him dead.

Jenny's hands loosened beneath his. He turned his head, and glimpsed her checking the gauge on her tank. He could not see the device, but her eyes narrowed behind her mask.

She tapped his chest and pointed up.

Perrin took her to the surface, breaking into the light with a wince. Even an overcast sky felt bright after being underwater. He closed his aching eyes and stretched his tail, trying to ease the ache in his lower body. Away from the sea too long, and his adrenaline rush had faded. Even the pleasure of being in the sea was losing its power. The base of his skull ached.

"Sorry," Jenny said, breathless. "Ran out."

He rubbed his eyes. "I needed to rest anyway."

She was silent a moment, her body warm against his. "Where are we going?"

"To find someone who has answers that I need."

"I need a radio."

"I know." Perrin tried opening his eyes, but the sky was so bright all he could do was squint at the water. "I know, and I'm sorry. If this wasn't important, I would take you first to . . . to . . ."

He stopped, unsure what to tell her. Where would he take her? He had no idea where Eddie and the fishing vessel were, and even if he did find some other ship in the area, he couldn't simply toss her on it without making certain she found her own people, safe. a.s.suming he could stomach letting her out of his sight in the first place. He wasn't sure he was that strong.

A swell glided them up, then down, a rolling motion that happened again, and again. Perrin had been on a roller coaster, just once-a little one-and this reminded him of that. Before his exile, he had never thought much about the surface of the sea, except as a boundary, but now it felt as alive as the back of a twisting eel, or a dancing whale. Perrin pulled Jenny closer, kicking his tail to keep them afloat as the surface grew choppy. Bright spots of red appeared in her pale cheeks. He hoped it wasn't the fever.

"You need a doctor," he said, and felt sick himself, and torn. She needed a doctor, human medicine, and they were hundreds of miles away from help. Help that would be on land, which might as well be a death sentence if he couldn't set things right.

Jenny clung to his shoulders, blinking away the salt spray in her eyes. Her clear green gaze settled on him with a steadiness that made him forget himself, the world, everything but her. "You said you had business in this region."

He hardly remembered telling her that, and didn't know how much to say. Words filled him, awkward and uneasy, and frightening. But he couldn't lie. Not to her.

"Something bad is happening in these waters," he finally said. "I came to stop it if I can."

"Bad," she echoed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Many people will die."

"Your people?"

Enough would die, too many, trying to stop the beast. "Humans, mostly."

Another wave tossed them, this one more violent, twisting them sideways and underwater, briefly. Jenny also twisted, right out of his grip. He followed, afraid of losing her.

Close, but not touching. Her red hair glimmered, coming loose from her braids in wispy strands. She watched him with those unnerving green eyes, so thoughtful. He considered how alien he must seem, and that made him feel lonely.

Perrin reached for her. She kicked just enough to slide away from his hand. He reached out again, just beneath the surface. Caught her wrist and pulled her near. She did not fight, but every inch of her was rigid, tense.

"Get rid of the gear," he said, hating his voice for sounding so rough. When she didn't move fast enough, he fumbled around her waist for the harness clip. Jenny pushed his hand away. He didn't apologize. He was not good with words. Not human, or otherwise. Not when it mattered. Like now.

"Don't be afraid of me," Perrin said, and wanted to punch himself in the head, both for the statement and his tone. Like he was back in prison, where talking gentle got you killed, or worse.

But Jenny stared at him with those steady eyes, not looking particularly afraid. Just confused. Slowly, carefully, she shrugged out of the scuba gear and let it sink. She almost went down with it, and he caught her around the waist, holding her up. His tail b.u.mped against her legs. He wondered suddenly if that disgusted her. Or worse, his scars. His scars were ugly, and everywhere.

"Why?" she asked him. "Why will people die?"

Again, it was so hard for him to speak. "The woman . . . the woman of my kind who you found dead . . . is, was, special. She had a . . . a job to do. And without her now . . ."

"Bad things," Jenny filled in, after an awkward moment of silence. "Bad, deadly things. But you think you can stop it."

"I don't know," he said, heart aching, drowning. "But I have to try."

Eight years, lost. Eight years without purpose, except to survive. And now he had a good reason to live. The perfect reason. Right in front of him, in his arms.

Except he was going to lose his life, anyway. He was going to die, and it didn't matter, because if he didn't try with all his will to change things, then Jenny would die. Quick, or slow. But lost, all the same.

Jenny kept staring at him. Her eyes, those eyes. As though she could see right through him. He had never felt so naked in all his life, stripped down, and small.

"I used to trust my instincts," she whispered. "But I trusted Les."

"I'm not him."

"Not yet."

"Never." Perrin's voice felt raw in his throat. "I was never like him."

Grief flickered in her eyes. He could only imagine the burden, the insanity, the fear she had to be suffering. Her world, upended.

His world, too. Crushing them both.

"That doesn't mean anything," she said. "I don't know you. I didn't know him, either, I suppose."

Cutting words. Perrin struggled to show nothing on his face, but it was a losing battle. What he felt for her was too strong. For eight years she had shared his dreams, his soul-and for eight years after that, during his exile, she had still inhabited his thoughts.

Now, she was with him in the flesh.

You're my missing heart, he wanted to tell her-and felt like a fool. All he'd ever known of her was in a dream. This . . . what he felt . . . this need to draw her close, as though she was the only thing keeping him alive . . . was ridiculous. So ridiculous he couldn't help but touch her braid, and then the edge of her jaw, afraid to look into her eyes. Feeling like a boy again, afraid of the sky because it was too large for his small life.

"Jenny," he whispered, tasting her name. "Some things cannot be explained."

Like us. Like this moment. Finding each other again, when we should never have met that first time.

Don't throw me away, he wanted to tell her. Please.

The grief in her eyes did not fade as she searched his face. Perrin held as still as the sea allowed, holding her, his breath, his life.

"I have so many questions," she murmured, finally. "Is this real?"

Perrin felt so helpless. "I don't know."

She gave him a long look, and slowly, all that sadness and confusion in her eyes disappeared, replaced by grim resolve.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay," he echoed, barely able to speak. "What does that mean?"

Her jaw tightened. "I'm not done with you yet."

She said it like a threat, but Perrin didn't care. He wasn't done with her, either. He wouldn't ever be done with Jenny.

"Can you hold your breath?" Perrin asked. His voice sounded like sandpaper.

"Yes," she said unevenly. Before he could muster the courage to look into her eyes, she slid around him to press against his back. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, and her small hands touched his chest. He couldn't help but reach up, and hold them. He wanted to hold them there forever.

It was just dreams. You don't know her.

He closed his eyes, glad she couldn't see his face. "Tell me when you need air."

Jenny didn't say a word. Just pressed her forehead against his shoulder. Her drifting legs b.u.mped against his tail. He wanted to tell her to wrap them around his waist but couldn't say that. So he reached back, placed his hand under her thigh, and guided her around him. She tensed, but followed his unspoken direction, wrapped herself tight and close against his back.

It was almost more than he could take. Better than dreams.

"Okay?" he whispered, still holding her clutched hands. Jenny nodded, and he took them below the water.

It was different, this time. Perrin didn't know why, but he felt her vulnerability, and his-their fragility against the world around them. It made his heart swell, aching with life. He had not felt so alive in years.

But it frightened him. He had come back to the sea, feeling as though he had nothing to lose.

He had something to lose now.

Near sh.o.r.e, it occurred to Perrin that they had been underwater a long time. For a human. He glanced over his shoulder, and found Jenny staring down at the seafloor, her braids flying behind her, his own silver hair tangled around her throat and face. Small bubbles trickled from her nose, but she didn't seem to be in any discomfort. Just caught up in the moment. A hint of wonder in her eyes.

He could not look away. Not until her gaze flicked to his-locked-and that same hot frisson of fear and longing slammed into his heart. He faltered in the water, forgetting where he was, who he was, just that those eyes were staring at him. Her eyes.

Perrin broke the surface with too much power. Jenny clung to him, nearly falling off, dragging down deep breaths. His breathing was also ragged. He found himself squeezing her hands too hard and relaxed his grip.

Again, the overcast sky was bright. He closed his eyes.

Jenny said, "Are you okay?"

No, he wanted to tell her. Yes.

"I have trouble with bright light," he said instead. "It'll pa.s.s."

Jenny was silent again, then: "I see an island."

Surprise touched him. Perrin twisted, and saw an island behind him: a lush green mountain rising from the sea. It had been many years, but he recognized the knot of stone that jutted from the western ridge-like the edge of sharp knuckles. A faint haze clung to the edge of the beach, and the peak. No other island in this region bore such mist, which shimmered silver, and delicate.

He'd followed his instincts, and they had not led him astray. But then, all it had ever taken was a strong will, and an even stronger need, to find the home of the old sea witch, last of the siren crones.

"It's odd you can see the island," he said to Jenny. "Not many humans can."

She gave him a look, as though she wasn't surprised, and oh, by the way, get-on-with-it. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Stay here a moment," he told Jenny. "I need to listen to something."

Perrin dove underwater, cutting only a few feet below the surface. He focused on his heartbeat, on the hushed whispers of the sea. Falling into the moment. Just one moment, quiet.

Far away, he heard a woman singing. Unearthly, sorrowful, a voice soft as crushed pearls. A voice to lure, and charm, and kill-though Perrin knew it had been many long years since the crone had murdered with a melody.

That had not stopped her from helping his father, though. An act he had never understood. The sea witch rarely involved herself in any affair that did not concern her, and his crime should not have warranted her attention-or her curse. It hadn't been enough to exile him from the sea, but fresh bodies of water, as well. Denying him even that little mark of freedom.

And you are still not sorry for what you did. Not truly.

Anger swelled. He pushed it down.

When he opened his eyes, ready to surface, he was surprised again. Jenny was underwater with him, her face closed and still. As though she was also listening. Light from above the surface cast a spectral glow upon her pale skin. Her red hair, a cold flame.

Perrin stopped breathing. Rose of the sea, he wanted to call her. Rose of dawn, just before first light, when the sky was caught in a transcendent glow-that promise of life, a new beginning. For eight years he might have pretended to be human, but he had never needed to pretend to love the dawn.

Her eyes opened. Jenny looked straight at him. He flinched. So did she. Perrin recovered first, grabbed her hand, and hauled her to the surface.

She was breathless and tried to pull away from him. He let her go.

"I heard singing," she said.

"The sea witch." Perrin wanted to duck beneath the waves and listen, again. "She is the last of her kind."

"So she's not . . . like you."

"She shares our blood. And the blood of . . . other things. She is very powerful."

"That doesn't sound safe."

"She won't hurt you. She has always had a soft heart for humans." When her eyes narrowed, he added, "I didn't mean to scare you."