Part 7 (1/2)

”Say it,” Perrin said.

”I don't need to,” Rik replied, searching his face. ”You were on land, which means they exiled you. If they exiled you, they gutted you of everything that made you powerful.”

”Not everything.” Perrin forced himself to stop touching the hole in his head. The idea of showing any weakness to Rik was utterly distasteful. Unfortunately, the pain worsened: a radiating stabbing sensation. He half expected to find someone standing behind him, driving a nail into his skull. The sun seemed suddenly too bright, even with his sungla.s.ses, a dizzying light. He heard a woman's voice break on a sob and squeezed shut his eyes.

”Hey,” Rik said, sounding very far away.

Perrin gritted his teeth, trying to focus past the pain. ”Go away.”

”You look sick.”

He sucked in a deep breath and tried to open his eyes. All he managed was a squint that left him nearly blind. He hoped his sungla.s.ses were dark enough to hide that fact, though given Rik's wary expression, he doubted it. Perrin turned back to the rail and bent over, breathing hard. Saliva dribbled from his bottom lip.

”s.h.i.+t,” Rik muttered. ”They did more than gut you.”

”Shut up,” Perrin whispered, finding the strength to wipe his mouth.

Rik drew closer. ”They broke you.”

Perrin's fist shot out. He was too weak to use his full strength, but he was bigger than Rik, and his aim was good, even half-blind with pain. He caught the shape-s.h.i.+fter across the face, knocking him against the rail so hard he almost tumbled over. Someone shouted-Eddie-but Rik turned a blazing golden eye on Perrin.

”Stole a part of your soul,” he whispered, blood trickling from his cut lip. ”You must have killed someone to deserve that.”

Perrin snarled, and punched Rik again, pummeling through his attempt to block the blow. Each movement was agony, but he didn't stop. Every blow made him angrier, more bitter, until he was blind and deaf and dumb; until Rik-curled into a ball, covering his head-hardly seemed to exist. He was just a thing. A punching bag. Perrin hated him for it, and he didn't know why.

He reached down and hauled Rik over the rail into the sea. He splashed out of sight.

Eddie rushed forward. Smoke rose from his clothing, between his fingers. Perrin hardly noticed. Moments after Rik disappeared, a dolphin shot free of the water, graceful and powerful. Golden light s.h.i.+mmered against his slick body.

All Perrin felt was jealousy. Sick, brutal, heartache.

And shame.

He spun away, holding his head. Eddie said his name, but his voice was lost to the roar in his ears. He needed to lie down, fall apart. He was going to anyway. His legs were so weak.

Perrin stumbled toward the main cabin, clipping his head on the door with such force he slammed against the wall and slid to his hands and knees. He couldn't stand again, so he crawled down the short flight of stairs to the lower deck, seeking darkness, a place to hide like some wounded animal. He half expected to find blood running from his nose and ears.

He crawled until he hit another wall, and stopped, drawing his knees up to his chest. Focused on breathing, on staying alive.

You will be strong, or die.

Strong. Strong. Perrin chanted the word to himself, digging his fingers into the scars at the back of his head. This was not the worst, he told himself. He had lived the worst. He had lived.

Footsteps echoed, but he could not see who was coming. Perrin did not care. He heard shouts, voices filled with dismay, and anger-and then something sharp jabbed into his throat. He hardly noticed.

The pain faded. He fell unconscious.

Perrin lay on the beach again. Waves crashed behind him. Bright morning, with the sun shedding a white light that was cool and clear, and did not burn his eyes. Instead, it was the rippling s.h.i.+mmer of the sea that hurt his vision, and he had to look away.

He felt weak. When he tried to move his legs, he found them gone, fused into a silver tail that pressed heavily into the damp sand.

A woman was beside him, her breathing soft and familiar. Perrin grappled for her hand, wis.h.i.+ng just once he could see her face. Or her eyes. For a moment he glimpsed red hair glinting in the sun, and peace stole over him, and sorrow.

”I never thought I would find you again,” said the woman. ”I stopped depending on dreams.”

”I stopped depending on a great many things,” he murmured.

The woman made a small sound, tilting her head away from him to stare down the beach. Perrin looked, as well, and saw a battered house looming from the sand, so old it was gray and stained with mold; and a sagging porch, and broken windows that looked empty and black as shark eyes. Dread filled him when he gazed too long at the house, as though it might sprout legs and slouch across the sand to crush them both.

”That house,” he said slowly, to the woman. ”What is it?”

”A bad place,” she whispered. ”I lost someone there.”

Perrin tried to see her face, but no matter how hard he tried, some terrible force compelled his gaze down, down, no higher than her white throat. He had never seen her face. ”I'm sorry.”

Her hand tightened in his. ”It's happening again.”

His pulse quickened, and he heard the echo of that sobbing scream. The woman did not seem to notice, but those green eyes flashed in his mind, and this time, they were not from his vision-but from an old memory.

Green eyes, staring at him on a beach just like this one. Green eyes, set in the face of a girl who had tried to save his life.

A human girl. Who had been kind, and unafraid. A girl who had fought for him. Fought, and come so close to losing her own life. Not a day went by when Perrin didn't think of her-the same girl who, after almost two decades, had grown into the woman with him now.

He had always known who she was. He had met her in his dreams only a day after meeting her on land. He had no idea how it had happened, but dreams never lied-and the connection between them, forged by accident, had been real to him as blood, and light, and the water in his lungs. Perrin had grown to manhood with her at his side, knowing she was alive in another world, always wondering if she thought of him in waking as much as he did of her. Torturing himself with the knowledge they could never be together.

And then, his exile. Followed by eight years of silence, without her in his dreams. Harder to bear than he could have imagined. Exile had been agony, but losing her presence in his dreams had almost killed him.

Now he had her again. He didn't want to know what that meant, or how it was possible. It shouldn't have been, after what the others had stolen from him.

It was difficult to breathe. Fear felt the same here as it did when he was awake. ”Are you in danger? Where are you, outside this dream?”

”Doesn't matter,” she murmured, though the quiet of her voice was tense, strained, as if she could barely bring herself to speak. ”I think he's going to kill me. I really think he is.”

”Don't say that. Tell me where you are.”

”A boat. But I don't want to talk about it. If I remember where I am, I might wake up. I'm not ready for that.”

”Tell me,” he insisted, again. ”Please.”

”This is just a dream,” she said wearily, pus.h.i.+ng her face against his shoulder. ”Nothing dreams can do.”

”You didn't used to believe that.” Perrin squeezed her hand-or tried to-but her fingers slipped through his. Made of air and not flesh. He twisted violently, trying to hold on to her body-or even see her face-but the beach fell out from under him, and he dropped into darkness, screaming.

He did not wake, though. Something cool flowed through the base of his skull, and the sensation sank down his spine, spreading into his bones. He floated, but could not be at ease. The woman filled him.

Green eyes.

Certainty crept slowly, starting first in his heart, threading down into his stomach until it took a roundabout path to his brain. Perrin could still recall the glitter of the sand on those pale knees and the unearthly gleam of red hair, which had seemed so alien and lovely to his color-deprived vision. He had thought, as a boy, that she must be magic.

That girl with the green eyes.