Jude stiffens. He looks down at my hand against his skin, milky-blue on tan. Closes his eyes for a moment, then finally looks back up at me. “I’m sorry, Lo.”
“Sorry?” I ask, stepping closer, trying to ignore the tight feeling in my chest, like it’s full of knots.
“I think I’m in love with Celia.”
I know.
“But… what does that have to do with me helping you?” he says.
It’s not fair. She wouldn’t have even met him if it weren’t for me. She wouldn’t know anything. I saved him. I’m the one who pulled him from the water. I stopped Molly. I walked on the shore like it didn’t hurt so he would see me as a girl instead of a monster.
He should love me.
I grimace, my hands itch, ache. Drag him into the water. Pull him in, make him regret it, make him love you. The voice isn’t mine, it isn’t me, but I can feel it feeding off the sorrow that’s eating up my chest.
I take a step back. My hands are shaking. He should love me. It’s not fair.
“Lo?” he says, takes a step toward me, toward the water.
Grab his arm. You’re stronger than him, especially once you hit the water. Pull him down. Maybe he’s lying. Maybe he loves you. You won’t know until he’s gone and his soul is yours. Just because the angels aren’t real doesn’t mean this isn’t—the old ones have told stories. They’ve known girls who won their souls back. It would work; it would be easy to pull him in—
“Stop,” I say, taking another step back. Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, don’t kill him. You don’t want to kill him. The voice in my head sounds like Naida one moment, Lo the next. I lean forward. He’s so close. It would be easy.
He looks at the water behind me and freezes. He’s afraid—of me or the water, I can’t tell which. Good. I look at him, spend one second memorizing every feature I can. Then turn around and sprint toward the waves. Jude is shouting after me, yelling my name—My name, Lo, not Naida; he’s calling for Lo—but I run faster. Drops of blood spray my calves; I don’t care. If I don’t leave now I’ll take him, I know I’ll take him, and I won’t be any different from the old one on the shore. My first murder was out of desperation. If I kill again, it will be out of…
Nothing. What the old ones are always looking at.
The water welcomes me. The waves are rough and thrash me around. I let them. I hate Celia, I hate Jude, I hate how they’ll have beautiful, happy lives, maybe together, maybe not. But either way, they won’t long for their lost souls. They won’t become darkness. They won’t be forced to kill themselves.
Forget Lo. Forget Naida. Forget Jude, and Celia. Forget it all.
Find nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Celia
Anne and Jane are standing outside my door, whispering to each other.
“Should we call him?”
“Don’t be stupid. That won’t help,” Anne snaps.
“Ugh. Celia? Please let us in,” Jane calls through the door. “I know you’re mad, but come on. This is, like… what sisters are for.”
I don’t want to see them any more than I want to see Jude, to be honest. I’m angry at all of them.
Anne and Jane retreat, though I hear them mumbling to each other from the kitchen. Just when I’m wondering if it’s possible to sneak to the bathroom and take the world’s longest bath without them catching me, I hear a knock at the front door. Swift, quiet, like the person is hoping no one will answer. Anne and Jane fall silent; I hear footsteps as one walks to the door.
“Oh, hell no,” I hear Anne say. The door opens swiftly, slams into the back wall.
“Is Celia here?”
Jude’s voice. It sounds weak, almost frightened.
“No. She’s on a date,” Anne says firmly.
A long pause.
“You’re lying,” he says.
“You’re an asshole,” she replies.
“Look, I just need to talk to her. It’s about Lo.”
I turn on my bed, letting the blankets wrap around me. I try to beat down the frustration, the jealousy that sprung up in my chest when I heard her name.
Jane’s voice now, “You’re definitely not talking to her about Lo.”
“It’s not like that—” Jude says, but falls silent. He sighs, begins again. “Just… just tell her that Lo left. I don’t think she’s coming back, but I didn’t know how to stop her. I’m worried.”
I sit up. Lo left? Then Naida left with her…. What does he mean by “left”?
“We’ll let her know,” Anne says sharply.
“Okay, I just…” Jude tries. I kick my legs over the side of the bed, stand up, and grab the knob. I don’t want to see him, but I don’t think I have a choice. I swing open the door. Jude is standing just outside the frame, blocked from entering by Anne and Jane—they’re wearing matching angry expressions, their hands planted firmly on their hips.
Jude looks at me, takes in my red eyes and streaky face. “Celia. I—” Anne gives him a threatening look, but he continues. “I went to talk to Lo,” he says slowly, and I try to pretend that hearing that doesn’t bite. “She asked me if I loved her, and I said I didn’t.”
I don’t speak.
“I went there to see if you were telling the truth, if she really did come out of the water. And then she did, and she… I don’t know. But she told me that she’d be nothing soon.”
Something in my stomach twists. I swallow.
“And then she went into the ocean like something was hurting her. I’m worried about her, and I don’t know who else to tell, because I don’t even know what she is.”
“She’s a girl,” I snap, shaking my head. “She’s just a girl.”
That’s not true. Naida was just a girl; Lo is something more.
But Naida needs me. If Lo is alive, Naida is in there, somewhere. Hidden, buried, down deep maybe, but there. She has a life, a whole world that she can only remember if I help her.
I move toward the door.
“What are you doing?” Anne asks in disbelief.
“Helping Naida,” I say, slipping my feet into my sandals.
“She lied to you, too! She and Jude both played you, Celia—”