Читать книгу Oceanborn - Amalie Howard - Страница 15

6 Make Your Move

“Poisoned? What do you mean some kind of biological agent?” I’m nearly screaming the rapid-fire questions at Echlios. “And how would someone even get close enough to poison Lo? Was it Cano?”

“All we know is that it’s some kind of biotoxin,” Echlios says. “And we don’t know that it was Cano, although he is a strong possibility.”

I know it’s him—every instinct inside me says it’s him. Cano is still on the loose, and out there...trying to destabilize us. He’s the only one who would attack Lo with something like this, something this diabolic. He was the one to help Ehmora with her hybrids and to combine the DNA strands in the first place—and he’s the only one who would know about Lo. From what we’ve all learned last year, he is not to be underestimated, notwithstanding the fact that he’s a brilliant biologist. This has his signature all over it.

My body is shaking so hard it feels like my teeth are going to shatter inside my mouth. I can feel the dull knuckle of bones already protruding from my brow, see the freckle of fins appearing and disappearing down my cheek like a wave of reptilian skin in the mirror across the hall. I’m as weak at controlling the transformation impulse as I am at controlling the chaos in my head. My breath comes in shortened, desperate bursts, and I grab the edge of the wooden table in my fists. It crumbles to splinters at my touch.

“My queen...Nerissa, please calm down,” Echlios says, his eyes anxious.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” I rage, my clothing popping as razor-sharp fins emerge along the length of my spine, ripping through my cotton shirt like butter. “You’re telling me that someone deliberately poisoned Lo. How?” Soren’s fingers reach across to mine, her calming energy sweeping across our human skins and sinking into me. Accepting her gesture, I breathe slow and deep. “How, Echlios?” I ask less forcefully this time.

“Injected or ingested, we presume,” Echlios says, resuming his seated position. I follow his lead and focus on keeping my breathing even. “But we have no way to be sure. We got lucky. The tests were inconclusive at first. The memory loss was just that—retrograde dissociative amnesia from the shock of what happened with his mother. But then Dr. Watson saw something and ordered more tests, this time checking for specific blood and neural toxicity. He saw some kind of odd discoloration in a group of cells near the memory center. He’d had a hunch that the memory loss didn’t seem fully consistent with dissociative amnesia—it appeared as if it were being aggravated by something else. A marine biotoxin of some sort.”

“What is that?” Speio asks softly. “Something from the sea?”

“It’s an organic toxin that occurs organically in nature from certain types of oceanic algae blooms, like the red tide,” Echlios says. Speio and I exchange a glance. We’ve both surfed at night during the red tide in San Diego, when the phytoplankton bloom makes the water turn a psychedelic blue.

“We’ve never gotten sick from that,” Speio blurts out. “Or any of our friends.”

“That’s because our Aquarathi immune systems aren’t affected by this toxin, but even so, the tide isn’t necessarily caused by toxic algae. Some blooms are toxic, some aren’t.”

“So humans can get sick from it?” I ask.

“Sometimes. In rare cases, mammals and humans get infected from eating contaminated shellfish. In its natural form, it’s called domoic acid, and the normal side effects range from nausea to coma to death,” Echlios explains. The blood drains from my face. “However, in Lo’s case, it appears that it has been chemically altered, which is how we knew that he has been poisoned.”

“Altered? Why?”

“Because his Aquarathi DNA would find a way to combat the infection. They’ve somehow made it more resistant and human-centric at the same time. Meaning that it only targets the human cells and that it can’t be detected by his Aquarathi immune system.”

“That’s just perfect,” I mutter. “Trust Cano to come up with a marine toxin to weaken the hybrids he engineered in the first place to be sea creatures like us. It just seems wrong.” I can’t help shuddering.

“He’s clever,” Echlios says. “It’s the perfect fail-safe.”

Echlios is right. If something had gone wrong during their species-grafting experimentation, they would have needed something immediate to weaken the hybrids. Since human DNA is weaker than ours, it makes sense that they would have targeted the human cells. But I’d bet anything that Cano wanted to make the toxin as lethal as possible, not to use just as a fail-safe but as a weapon.

Snapping out my smart phone, I quickly run a search for domoic acid poisoning. According to the first website, it’s also called amnesic shellfish poisoning. I scan the immediate symptoms—vomiting, nausea, cramps—but I’m more interested in the neurological symptoms farther down, like dizziness, disorientation, short-term memory loss and seizures...the ones that could lead to comas and death. And then my gaze spans down farther and my breath hitches in my throat.

There is no cure.

The rush of fear nearly makes me double over, but I can’t afford to let it derail me. Nobody creates a poison without creating its remedy, especially for someone as valuable as Lo. Not even Cano would be that foolish...at least I hope he wouldn’t. With a fortifying breath, I process all of the information from Echlios and the website as clinically as I can, but I can’t seem to get my mind around one thing. I glance at Echlios, pocketing my phone.

“Even if it were Cano or Ehmora’s people, Lo was—is—her son, and the perfect hybrid specimen. Why would they want to hurt him?”

Echlios spreads his palms to the sky. “If it means getting you out of Waterfell, I can see that being an option. Ehmora viewed him as an expendable bargaining chip. Why wouldn’t they continue to do so? Bringing you here disrupts the courts and could create chaos.”

“Wait a second,” I muse. The vision of my dream, of Ehmora telling me she isn’t dead, hovers over me like a wet, dark cloud. Even from the grave, we can’t escape her influence. “You think Lo was poisoned to draw me back here?”

“It’s possible. In Waterfell, you are safe. It’s impenetrable.” Echlios shakes his head. “Here, it’s open and we are vulnerable in human form. They knew you’d have no choice but to come back for him once you felt him deteriorating.”

“Deteriorating? You mean from the amnesia?”

Echlios stares at me. “No. From his failing body.”

Of course. Lo’s dying. As if I could forget.

Soren clears her throat, the soft pulsing sound reminding me to breathe, despite the fact that my body has gone completely immobile after Echlios’s quiet words. “We also believe they—both Neriah and Cano—have been watching him, and that they still have ties to the school. Spies,” she says.

The mention of my mother’s name makes my stomach twist into ugly knots. It’s been hard not to think about her, but I’ve taught myself to be numb if and when I ever do. After her being instrumental in my father’s murder, her betrayal had become unforgivable when she and her lover—Ehmora—decided to kill me for my throne.

“That’s not possible,” I say. But of course it is. Just because we killed Ehmora and chased my mother and Cano inland doesn’t mean that they’d give up on Ehmora’s plans. If either of them is still alive, we are at risk...as they’ve obviously proven with Lo. Castia, the Emerald Court queen, was partially right. They wanted me back here.

“There’s more,” Soren continues, glancing at her son. “We suspect that there is a spy in school who’s feeding Cano information. Keeping tabs on you and on Lo.”

“Like who? The acting headmaster?”

“No. Echlios glimmered her weeks before we arrived,” Soren says. “Could be a teacher. The school nurse. Other students.”

“Can’t we just leave?” Speio asks. “Take Lo with us to Waterfell and figure it out there?”

Echlios shakes his head. “That was my plan until Nerissa saw something when she glimmered him last week. He doesn’t seem to know what he is, so—”

“So we can’t take the risk of him freaking out a hundred thousand leagues under the sea,” Speio finishes, wide-eyed.

“Or trying to return to human form,” Echlios says grimly.

“It’s not just that,” Soren interjects. “How do we even get him to remember who or what he is? If this is part of a greater scheme to weaken the Aquarathi, that needs to happen sooner rather than later. The longer we stay here, the more we are at risk.” She glances at me. “The more our queen is at risk.”

“And Waterfell,” I add.

“There is another alternative. Castia—” Echlios begins, but I cut him off with a furious glare, already preempting what he’s going to say. The very thought of what Castia suggested about letting Lo die alone makes me sick to my stomach.

“That’s not an option,” I say. “We can’t abandon him. That’s a death sentence and you know it. The High Council has given us a chance and time to do something. We have to try. For him, and for Waterfell.” And for me.

Echlios nods, bowing his head, and for a second I think I see what looks like relief flash across his face. A cold feeling slithers through me.... I left Lo behind before the last time we left for Waterfell. Did he think I’d do it now?

“We stay together,” I say firmly. “We have just under four months to find Cano, figure out what he’s plotting and find a cure.” I break off abruptly and stare at Echlios, recalling what I read on my phone not two minutes before. “Please tell me there is something that can save him, Echlios.”

“I believe there is. Cano is far too meticulous not to have reengineered a natural toxin without also creating its counter remedy.” Echlios pauses. “And if Lo were to die, they would have no leverage, which leads me to believe that the effects of this toxin can be reversed or at least stopped.”

“And Lo’s memory loss?”

Echlios’s face is compassionate. “That’s a bit more complicated. The biotoxin inhibits the brain from healing itself. He could be trying to repair those neurons as we speak and yet be completely limited by the toxin’s effects.”

Speio’s voice is small. “Will he be able to remember who he is?”

“Probably not without help,” Echlios says. “If we don’t counter the chemical effects, and soon, I’m afraid the memory loss could become permanent. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he adds gently, seeing my stricken expression. “For all we know, Lo could start remembering things tomorrow. We Aquarathi are nothing if not strong. We fight even when we are down—it’s the core of who we are. And that is true, too, at a base, cellular level.”

I try not to put too much faith in Echlios’s words, but a part of me fervently hopes that Lo’s Aquarathi side will step up and defend itself. I can’t imagine any part of myself not fighting to survive. It’s in our nature. Hybrid or not, he’s Aquarathi through and through, and he’s bonded to me. That has to count for something.

The small bloom of hope blossoms into something bigger, and takes root deep in my abdomen.

I have to make him remember who he is.

* * *

Slamming my locker shut, I make my way out to the parking lot. Jenna has hockey practice and I’m left to my own devices. She’s the mastermind, not me, but I have a plan and one that I hope is going to work. The first step is to get Lo out of Cara’s clutches. Shaking my head as I exit the school, I can’t help comparing the incongruous parallels of the whole situation. Cara Andrews is like the human part of Lo fighting for dominion, and I’m his Aquarathi side, determined to reclaim what is mine. I’m not in the least bit threatened by Cara, but I am worried that Lo will want to gravitate toward his human side and to the familiar. In the grand scheme of things, I’m someone new to him.

That has to change, starting with evening shifts at the Marine Center. It wasn’t easy to get my old job back, but thankfully the manager, Kevin, hasn’t lost his memory and remembers my involvement last year. Plus, a sizable donation from the Marin family fund for the oceanic conservation drive didn’t hurt matters. As a result, I’ve been able to secure a few hours during the week after school.

Hefting my backpack into the rear of the Jeep, I climb in and surreptitiously peek at Lo and Cara in the rearview mirror, standing next to her car.

“So you can’t come over to study?” Cara is saying to Lo in the parking lot, her arm wrapped around his. Seriously, it’s like she can’t stop touching him every infernal second.

“Sorry,” Lo says with an easy grin. “Some of us have to work. Can you give me a ride over there? Caught a ride with Sawyer this morning after our surf lesson, so no car.”

And that’s my cue.

Putting the Jeep into reverse, I swing out and pull alongside. Cara’s face immediately tightens. “I can give you a ride,” I say to Lo. “I’m heading over there myself.”

“Since when?” Cara says.

“Since I work there,” I say sweetly.

“How did you—” she begins, and then snaps her mouth shut, eyeing me with a suspicious frown. “I thought you said they didn’t have any open slots,” she says to Lo. The flirtatious tone has gone into accusatory mode. Obviously she tried to get a job there to spend more time with Lo.

“They didn’t,” he says, shrugging.

I smile widely. “What can I say? I’m special. Come on, Lo. We’re going to be late. Get in.”

Resisting the urge to peel out of the parking lot and leave black tire marks in my wake, I drive more sedately, keeping my exhilaration contained. I don’t even know why I’m keeping score, because it’s so childish, but I do, anyway. Nerissa two, Cara zero.

My exhilaration wanes into acute awareness of Lo sitting in the passenger seat, and all of the unsaid things from the other day in the cafeteria lying between us. Neither one of us says anything, but the silence is comfortable instead of awkward.

“Hey, what song is this?” Lo says, twisting the volume button on the car stereo.

I fumble for my phone on the middle console and chuck it at him. “It’s just a playlist I’m working on. That one’s called ‘As the Rush Comes’ by Motorcycle.”

“I like it. Very mellow,” he says, stroking the face of the phone with his thumb and scrolling through the playlist. “I know some of these. You have good taste.”

I laugh. “You know some of those because they’re yours. You and I started this playlist.”

With a raised eyebrow, he selects the next song. The opening chords of Blackmill’s “The Drift” comes on. “This is one of my favorites. I love the piano instrumental with the backbeat. It’s tight.”

“Yep,” I say. “You got me into them. Here, hand that over for a second. Bet you don’t know these guys, but this one is all you.” With a quick swipe, I select the last song I added to the playlist. I don’t add that I’ve listened to the chorus of the song at least a hundred times while torturing myself about what he’s been doing all summer with Cara.

“Who is it?” he says after a few bars, his foot tapping against the floor.

“Morgan Page’s ‘The Longest Road,’ Deadmau5 remix.”

“Catchy.”

“Great lyrics,” I add.

“I can see that,” he says quietly. His gaze flutters on me for a second and then drifts away when mine flicks to his. I don’t know if he’s agreeing with me or appreciating that they mean something to me. He looks as if he has more to say, but then he bites his lip and releases a slow sigh. He stares out the window for a moment before shifting in his seat to face me. “Sorry about the other day at school,” he blurts out. “I didn’t realize we were a couple. I mean, it makes sense. When you were at my house, I felt something. It was so strong, like this weird pull toward you. Sorry, it wasn’t weird...” He trails off with a stammer. “I am totally screwing up what I want to say.”

“I know what you mean, Lo.”

“I wish I could remember. I don’t know how I could forget you or us, that’s all,” he says, shooting me a look that makes my heart flip-flop. “Sawyer told me that it was love at first sight,” he adds with a laugh, “and then he told me the truth...that I had to work hard to even get you to go out with me.”

“Hardly,” I protest, but I can’t hide the blush that heats my neck, nor the fact that it threatens to go supernova at his next words.

“I’m sure it was worth it,” he says quietly.

At a stop sign, I turn to smile tremulously at him, my heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “It was for both of us. You helped me figure out a lot of things about myself. We’re pretty similar, you and me.”

“Seems like it,” he says with a thoughtful glance, studying the playlist on the phone’s screen. “You know, I was surprised that people didn’t tell me about you. I asked because I found a prom photo earlier this summer.” His teeth flash white for a second. “One of me dressed in some seaweed with this totally hot girl.”

I know the one he’s talking about—it was one of the few photos we took together at Jenna’s house right before Junior Prom. “We were Neptune and Salacia. Roman gods of the ocean.”

“I figured it was some kind of theme,” he says with a somber smile. “I think Bertha thought it would be better if I didn’t know. It’s not like you were still around, so she told me you were someone I’d gone with. Maybe she thought it would be too painful if I couldn’t remember. I mean, there I was staring at this girl with this expression...like she was everything to me and I couldn’t even remember her name. I think Bertha felt sorry for me.” He trails off to stare out the window, his voice going so quiet that I have to strain to hear him. “I wish someone had told me, because maybe I could have tried harder. Maybe I could have done something differently, made myself remember somehow.” He shrugs, watching me, his tone wistful. “Because now here you are, and all I want is to be that guy in that photo.”

Lo’s eyes are intense and it’s all I can do not to start crying then and there. “That guy is still in there, Lo,” I say. “And that girl will always be here, waiting for you. You just have to take it one day at a time.”

Everything inside me tenses up when he reaches over and slides his palm over the back of my hand on the gearshift, holding it there for the rest of the ride. I’m afraid to even look at him, so I swallow hard and keep my eyes on the road, barely conscious of anything but the warm seal of his skin on mine. We listen to the rest of the playlist in silence until I pull in to the Marine Center parking lot.

“I’m sorry,” he says, drawing his hand away. “I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“You didn’t. This is new to me, too. One day at a time. Deal?”

“Deal,” Lo says, then hops out of the Jeep with an overbright grin as if to make up for the earlier turn in the conversation. “Thanks for the ride. So this is going to be like old times, right?”

The question takes me aback for a second before I realize that he’s joking. “You can’t even remember last week,” I toss back. “What do you know about old times?”

“I guess you’ll have to show me.”

I take a breath to calm my racing pulse and manage a half-teasing smile. “I don’t think you’re quite ready for that, but I’ll let you know when.”

“Promise?”

The evocative meaning in that single word makes my bones dissolve into nothing. Which explains why you couldn’t knock the smile off my face as we walk into the Marine Center.

“Hey, Riss!” Kevin shouts, jumping over the counter to sweep me into a huge bear hug. “So glad you’re back. Place just hasn’t been the same without you. Where’s your partner in crime?”

“Jenna? Don’t worry, I’ll get her back here to do her share. She’s at a hockey game.”

“No hockey for you this year?”

“I’m focusing on other things,” I say. Yeah, like finding a cure for my boyfriend’s imminent doom. I smile brightly. “But hey, at least Lo’s been here holding down the fort.”

Kevin grins, chucking Lo in the shoulder. “Well, if he could only remember his name, it’d be awesome,” he teases.

“That joke never gets old,” Lo says good-naturedly. “So, what do you have for us today? Beach cleanup?”

Consulting a clipboard on the desk, Kevin purses his lips. “Actually, someone just called in from La Jolla Shores saying that they thought they saw a bunch of garbage bags caught in the kelp beds. You guys want to check it out? Just radio back if you need help. Standard swipe and dump, shouldn’t take the two of you too long.”

“We’ll take care of it,” I say.

“Riss, you remember where the boat is, right?” Kevin asks, tossing me a set of keys attached to a bright yellow foam oval. “It’s good to have you back.”

“Great to be back.” I find that I mean it. I’ve missed the Marine Center and doing my part to protect the world’s oceans. It is where I live, after all, and although we aren’t allowed to interfere in the day-to-day politics of people who share the planet with us, marine conservancy is an area where we can get more actively involved.

Lo and I get changed in the respective bathrooms and meet out on the beach near the shed where all the gear is stored.

“We probably won’t need these if those bags are just floating, but do you remember how to scuba?” I ask him, tugging on one of the air tanks and tossing it into the back of the dune buggy.