Part 19 (1/2)

”I don't know,” he said, despair creeping on him. He had been stupid to think the witch would help him find the kra'a.

It is with you.

Look between the two of you for the answers you seek.

What did that mean?

”What did she mean?” Jenny asked, as though reading his thoughts. ”About us? What is this . . . beast, and the . . . kra'a . . . you kept talking about? I need to understand.”

”I told you that the woman you found was important.”

”Pelena. You and she were . . . close.”

He didn't miss the odd note in her voice when she said that. ”My cousin.”

Jenny blinked. ”I'm sorry.”

Perrin rubbed his face. ”She was kind. She liked . . . A'lesander.”

”He's good at that. Making people like him.”

Rage clawed up his throat. ”Pelena possessed the kra'a. It is an . . . organism . . . that bonds to the skulls of my kind and gives them special abilities. Specifically those related to calming the-” Perrin stopped, reaching for Jenny as she swayed, pale.

”Bonds,” she echoed, her lips barely moving.

”Jenny,” he said, touching her brow, finding it hot.

A strange ache swept through him. His scalp tingled. A deep vibrato hiss vibrated his eardrums, but the sound s.h.i.+fted, rising into a screaming, crackling crescendo that made him shut his eyes in pain.

The world rocked sideways. His bones turned liquid, and so did the sand beneath him. He didn't realize he was swaying until he toppled sideways, slamming his fist into the moving beach to keep from going down completely. The rocking sensation didn't stop. It got worse.

Earthquake.

He had never been in an earthquake on land. Panic hit him. Stomach-dropping nausea. Land had always felt strange-hard, heavy, all sharp edges. No safe place to rest, no place ever to rest, not with gravity bearing him always down. In the sea, he had been weightless, capable of flight, coc.o.o.ned in that ever-present embrace of water. Land offered only cages, and unexpected pain.

Jenny made a small sound of distress. Perrin dragged her into his arms. Little on the beach could hurt them-they were too far from the forest to fear falling trees-but the shaking worsened, tearing rocks free of the sand, knocking his teeth together-jolting him and Jenny with a growing, gathering violence that made him feel as though he sat on top of some imminent explosion.

His fear disappeared. Burned up in rage. Useless, impotent. Just like him.

You caused this, he imagined his father saying. You did this with your thoughtless, vile actions-and there will never be a place for you, never a home, never rest- Jenny's fingers dug into his shoulder. Perrin held her tighter, burying his face in her hair. She was talking to him, but he didn't hear her at first-too distracted, caught up in the terrible knowledge of what was causing this quake.

He closed his eyes and felt the thrust of energy from the quake pus.h.i.+ng through the ocean like a fist, displacing water in a ma.s.sive ring that surged outward with punis.h.i.+ng force.

And behind that, deeper, not so far away -coiled, buried in heat- -a stirring, the tremble of a terrible eye- Perrin froze, unable to move or breathe as that vision, the encompa.s.sing fullness of it, sank from his head into the base of his skull, down his spine into his chest. His heart hammered. Overwhelmed.

He was too late to save anyone. No matter what he did, it wouldn't be enough.

Jenny made another small sound. Perrin came back to himself, gathering her closer. The earthquake was finally subsiding, but her eyes were squeezed shut, face pale, so pained her lips were white and pressed together in a hard line. Focused, fighting to hold herself together.

”Jenny,” he said.

”There's something in my mind,” she whispered.

Chills rode through him. ”Tell me.”

She shook her head, scrunching even deeper into his arms. Perrin didn't know how to comfort her. He didn't even know how to comfort himself. He was afraid to know what she was feeling, afraid that it was the same thing that had just been inside him.

Visions of the sleeping beast. The monster rising from dreams.

Impossible, he told himself. For her and him. He shouldn't have been able to see anything. His mind had been dead to the sea for eight years.

You share dreams. You might share other things. But the thought made him feel grim and helpless.

Perrin hummed to Jenny-for her, and himself. His rumbling voice was rusty, ill-used, but the memory of the song she had sung to him, sixteen years ago, bled bright in his mind. Centering his focus, as it always did.

There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy . . . they say he wandered very far, over land and sea. . .

Human music was full of prophets. Magic. Nat King Cole.

Jenny relaxed in his arms. Perrin studied the ocean, music dying in his throat. The tide seemed unchanged.

But that wouldn't last.

”We need to leave the beach,” he said. Jenny nodded, drawing in a deep breath as though to steady herself. Perrin slid his hand beneath her jaw. Her skin was soft against his scarred, callused palm.

He tried to speak, failed-and then managed to put words in his mouth that felt rough, even angry. He wasn't certain anymore that he knew how to speak without sounding like he wanted to fight.

”I won't let anything happen to you,” he said.

She stared at him with such uncertainty. Perrin brushed his thumb over her mouth, filled with aching, terrible loss-and some nameless need that was stronger than fear, stronger than anger.

A need to just . . . be . . . with her. Didn't matter how or in what way, just that this, here, now . . . he had to protect her. Forget the rest of the world. Forget shame, forget pride. This woman had only been a dream before-not flesh and blood. Losing her presence in his mind, in his darkest hour, had been almost more than he could bear.

Losing her again . . . was unthinkable.

”Your eyes,” she said.

Perrin didn't know what she saw in his eyes, but he couldn't look away to hide. He couldn't speak. He felt huge compared to her. A scarred, broken monster.

But he tried, he tried very hard, to be gentle as he leaned down and brushed his lips over her brow. She tasted warm, sweet. Her fingers dug even more deeply into his shoulders, and he pulled her as close as he dared. He was afraid to wonder what her silence meant.

”I won't let anything happen,” he whispered again, against her hair.

Liar, part of him said.

No, he told it. No.

Perrin tried to stand. The tremors were fading, but he felt dizzy, off-balance. Jenny staggered to her feet, gripping his arms as she stared from him to the sea. ”You think we're in danger from a tsunami.”

”A minor wave, but it will happen quick. We're near the quake zone.”