Tempest Revealed
Page 12
We hurried up the street to my house, Mark’s arm wrapped around my shoulders in an unsuccessful effort to keep me warm. I invited him in, but he declined. It was close to three in the morning and at some point even his parents would expect him to make an appearance at home.
He kissed me slowly, lingeringly, and I focused on that instead of all my insecurities as I kind of floated into the house, my fingers pressed against my lips. It had been a good night, a really good night.
I thought back on my worries from earlier. While they were real, and haunted me every day, right now—at this moment—they seemed almost silly. Mark and I were good for each other. We loved each other. No, our relationship wasn’t following the most conventional route in the world, but then, who said it had to? If we wanted this, and worked hard at it, we could make it. And if I was really smart and really lucky in the next few months—and everything turned out the way I wanted it to with Tiamat and Sabyn—we’d have the chance to make a real, long-term go of it.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I turned right and went down the hall to peer into Moku’s room. He was sound asleep, curled into a little ball in the center of his bed. His covers were pushed down to the bottom of the mattress, and I walked forward, pulled them back over him with an indulgent smile. Almost immediately, he unwound from the ball, his body relaxing into the warmth of the comforter we’d picked out together last year when he’d decided his old one—with dinosaurs on it—was for babies.
I bent down, brushed a kiss over his forehead. Over the scar he’d gotten when Tiamat had injured him so severely a few months before. I swear, standing there, looking at him like this—so sweet, so vulnerable—made a murderous rage rise within me. Never again was that bitch going to touch my family. I would make sure of it.
“He’s fine, Tempest.”
I turned, saw my dad lounging in the doorway, one shoulder pressed against the doorframe.
“He was cold. I was just—”
“Checking on him. I know. I do it two or three times a night myself.”
“You’re supposed to sleep at night, Dad.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t do too much of that anymore.”
Guilt assailed me. “I won’t let her hurt Moku again. I promise.”
My dad gave me an arch look. “He’s not the only one I’m worried about, you know. The ocean killed your mother. The idea that it could take you too—” He broke off, looked away.
The guilt grew worse until it was almost suffocating me. “You said you were okay with me being mermaid.”
“I am. It’s your life, your decision, Tempest. I believe that firmly. But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. You’re my kid. It’s my job to worry.”
“Dad—”
He arched an eyebrow at me and I looked away, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “Where’s Sabrina?”
“Asleep.”
“Oh. I should let you get back—”
“She’s a big girl,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I think she can handle sleeping on her own for a while.” Then he changed the subject. “How’d your date with Mark go?”
“It was great.”
“Yeah? Then why do you sound so down?”
Because it was time to have a conversation with him that I should have had ten months ago, when I’d mistakenly given up the idea of being mermaid and committed to life on land. I had been too cowardly to tell him then, but if he was so worried about me that he had insomnia, it was time to tell him the whole truth about what had happened to my mother. Besides, if things went wrong and I didn’t come back, he had a right to know.
“You want to go downstairs? I can make some hot chocolate or something?”
His eyes darkened with concern, but his smile never faltered as he stepped back into the hall. “Have you forgotten the rules? I make the hot chocolate while you talk.”
“That’s kind of what I was counting on.”
We didn’t speak again until we were downstairs in the kitchen. My dad puttered around, making the cocoa from scratch—because that’s just how awesome he’s always been—and I watched him, not sure where to start.
No, that wasn’t exactly true. I knew exactly where to start—there was really only one way to tell this story—but I was too cowardly to say anything. I was one of the lucky ones. I’d always had an amazing relationship with my dad, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.
He didn’t push me, didn’t ask leading questions or look at me searchingly. But I felt him waiting, could see how he’d braced himself for a blow. His shoulders were straight, his mouth grim, tension in every line of his body even as he whistled one of my favorite childhood songs. Part of me wanted to belt out the lyrics about the bear and the mountain, to sing along like I used to as a child when the biggest thing on my mind was messing up on the waves.
In the end, that was what got me talking. My dad knew something big was coming, so why the hell should I keep him suffering on the knife’s edge of suspense simply because I was afraid? I glanced behind me, into the living room and up the stairs in an effort to ensure Sabrina and my brothers hadn’t woken up. I wouldn’t be able to get this out if they were around.
Then I took a deep breath and said the words that had been haunting me for almost a year. “I killed Mom.”
My father stared at me, a haze of non-comprehension on his face. “That’s ridiculous—”
“No. It isn’t. I mean, I didn’t actually kill her. Tiamat did, but—”
“Tiamat?”
“Yes. The same witch who attacked Moku.”
“I know who she is, Tempest. I’ve known who she was since you were ten years old. She’s who came after you on that beach in Hawaii.”
I had forgotten about that. “Yes.”
“She killed your mother?”
“Because of me.” They were the hardest words I’d ever said, but I wouldn’t take them back. My dad had a right to know what had happened to Cecily. She was the only woman he’d ever loved and he had spent most of the last decade pining for her.
“It’s not your fault if she was protecting you—”
“I was supposed to be protecting her.”
My dad slid a cup of hot cocoa across the counter at me, his expression pained but not nearly as condemning as I’d expected it to be. As I’d feared it would be.
“Explain.”
So I did, telling him how I’d been in a face-off with Tiamat only weeks after I’d become mermaid. How I’d had to make a choice between Kona and Cecily, had to decide who she was going to go for first. How I’d made the wrong choice and then had to watch as she’d killed my mother in front of me.
My father seemed to collapse inward a little more with each word I said, each new fact that I revealed. When I was done, I braced myself for his condemnation, for the anger I knew was well deserved. Not only had I failed to protect my mother, I had spent nearly a year lying to him about it.
For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything. Then, when he did move, it was for something completely unexpected. He came around the counter and wrapped me in his arms, hugging me as tightly as he could.
He kissed me slowly, lingeringly, and I focused on that instead of all my insecurities as I kind of floated into the house, my fingers pressed against my lips. It had been a good night, a really good night.
I thought back on my worries from earlier. While they were real, and haunted me every day, right now—at this moment—they seemed almost silly. Mark and I were good for each other. We loved each other. No, our relationship wasn’t following the most conventional route in the world, but then, who said it had to? If we wanted this, and worked hard at it, we could make it. And if I was really smart and really lucky in the next few months—and everything turned out the way I wanted it to with Tiamat and Sabyn—we’d have the chance to make a real, long-term go of it.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I turned right and went down the hall to peer into Moku’s room. He was sound asleep, curled into a little ball in the center of his bed. His covers were pushed down to the bottom of the mattress, and I walked forward, pulled them back over him with an indulgent smile. Almost immediately, he unwound from the ball, his body relaxing into the warmth of the comforter we’d picked out together last year when he’d decided his old one—with dinosaurs on it—was for babies.
I bent down, brushed a kiss over his forehead. Over the scar he’d gotten when Tiamat had injured him so severely a few months before. I swear, standing there, looking at him like this—so sweet, so vulnerable—made a murderous rage rise within me. Never again was that bitch going to touch my family. I would make sure of it.
“He’s fine, Tempest.”
I turned, saw my dad lounging in the doorway, one shoulder pressed against the doorframe.
“He was cold. I was just—”
“Checking on him. I know. I do it two or three times a night myself.”
“You’re supposed to sleep at night, Dad.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t do too much of that anymore.”
Guilt assailed me. “I won’t let her hurt Moku again. I promise.”
My dad gave me an arch look. “He’s not the only one I’m worried about, you know. The ocean killed your mother. The idea that it could take you too—” He broke off, looked away.
The guilt grew worse until it was almost suffocating me. “You said you were okay with me being mermaid.”
“I am. It’s your life, your decision, Tempest. I believe that firmly. But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. You’re my kid. It’s my job to worry.”
“Dad—”
He arched an eyebrow at me and I looked away, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “Where’s Sabrina?”
“Asleep.”
“Oh. I should let you get back—”
“She’s a big girl,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I think she can handle sleeping on her own for a while.” Then he changed the subject. “How’d your date with Mark go?”
“It was great.”
“Yeah? Then why do you sound so down?”
Because it was time to have a conversation with him that I should have had ten months ago, when I’d mistakenly given up the idea of being mermaid and committed to life on land. I had been too cowardly to tell him then, but if he was so worried about me that he had insomnia, it was time to tell him the whole truth about what had happened to my mother. Besides, if things went wrong and I didn’t come back, he had a right to know.
“You want to go downstairs? I can make some hot chocolate or something?”
His eyes darkened with concern, but his smile never faltered as he stepped back into the hall. “Have you forgotten the rules? I make the hot chocolate while you talk.”
“That’s kind of what I was counting on.”
We didn’t speak again until we were downstairs in the kitchen. My dad puttered around, making the cocoa from scratch—because that’s just how awesome he’s always been—and I watched him, not sure where to start.
No, that wasn’t exactly true. I knew exactly where to start—there was really only one way to tell this story—but I was too cowardly to say anything. I was one of the lucky ones. I’d always had an amazing relationship with my dad, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.
He didn’t push me, didn’t ask leading questions or look at me searchingly. But I felt him waiting, could see how he’d braced himself for a blow. His shoulders were straight, his mouth grim, tension in every line of his body even as he whistled one of my favorite childhood songs. Part of me wanted to belt out the lyrics about the bear and the mountain, to sing along like I used to as a child when the biggest thing on my mind was messing up on the waves.
In the end, that was what got me talking. My dad knew something big was coming, so why the hell should I keep him suffering on the knife’s edge of suspense simply because I was afraid? I glanced behind me, into the living room and up the stairs in an effort to ensure Sabrina and my brothers hadn’t woken up. I wouldn’t be able to get this out if they were around.
Then I took a deep breath and said the words that had been haunting me for almost a year. “I killed Mom.”
My father stared at me, a haze of non-comprehension on his face. “That’s ridiculous—”
“No. It isn’t. I mean, I didn’t actually kill her. Tiamat did, but—”
“Tiamat?”
“Yes. The same witch who attacked Moku.”
“I know who she is, Tempest. I’ve known who she was since you were ten years old. She’s who came after you on that beach in Hawaii.”
I had forgotten about that. “Yes.”
“She killed your mother?”
“Because of me.” They were the hardest words I’d ever said, but I wouldn’t take them back. My dad had a right to know what had happened to Cecily. She was the only woman he’d ever loved and he had spent most of the last decade pining for her.
“It’s not your fault if she was protecting you—”
“I was supposed to be protecting her.”
My dad slid a cup of hot cocoa across the counter at me, his expression pained but not nearly as condemning as I’d expected it to be. As I’d feared it would be.
“Explain.”
So I did, telling him how I’d been in a face-off with Tiamat only weeks after I’d become mermaid. How I’d had to make a choice between Kona and Cecily, had to decide who she was going to go for first. How I’d made the wrong choice and then had to watch as she’d killed my mother in front of me.
My father seemed to collapse inward a little more with each word I said, each new fact that I revealed. When I was done, I braced myself for his condemnation, for the anger I knew was well deserved. Not only had I failed to protect my mother, I had spent nearly a year lying to him about it.
For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything. Then, when he did move, it was for something completely unexpected. He came around the counter and wrapped me in his arms, hugging me as tightly as he could.
