Mandy Hubbard: Ripple

Cole seems to be processing everything in slow motion, his bright hazel eyes turned dark under the waning light of the moon. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for that. He chose to get into the water at night. I read the police reports myself. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is, Cole. It is.”

He blinks and stops. Glances at the lake. Something shifts in his eyes. A flicker of fear?

“I didn’t mean to kill him. I never wanted him to drown. And that’s the truth. I didn’t know what I was doing when I sang. I didn’t know what I was singing at all. But now I know what I am. Know why I wanted to go swimming. I lured him to his death. I’m a siren. It’s what I am.”

At this, he doesn’t move. The moment stretches on and on and on. And then slowly, I see the wheels turning. “I was here a couple of nights ago. I remembering walking here, but then . . . it was like I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was coughing up lungfuls of water, gasping for breath.”

“That was me. I had to . . . drag you out of the lake and give you CPR.”

“You saved me?”

“Are you not listening? I drowned you!”

The woods are heavy with silence tonight, no crickets or birds. I just told him everything, and he’s just standing there, not even blinking. I wish he’d scream or melt down or run away, because then I’d know what he’s thinking. His silence is enough to make me hope, and all hope ever does is hurt me.

“I don’t understand. Why would he . . . why would I get in the water?”

“It’ll be easier to show you.” I take in such a huge breath my chest visibly expands. This is it. “Did you bring your iPod?”

He nods and fishes it out of the pocket of his baggy jeans, holding out the tiny red player in the palm of his hand.

I stare at it. It’s my fallback plan. If he has those tiny earbuds in his ears, he won’t strain against the tree. Won’t try desperately to follow me into the lake.

“Put the volume on as high as it goes. Something heavy. Rock or something.”

He plays with the dial for a minute, and then music so loud and hard bursts from the headphones I can hear it from where I’m standing, at least four feet away. “Give me your belt.”

He raises an eyebrow but does as I ask, sliding it out of the loops. I grip the leather in my hands as I lead him over to the big cedar tree behind us. “Do you trust me?” I ask, searching his dark expression. What if he runs, right now? What if he doesn’t even want to know what I’m about to show him?

He nods, swallowing, his hazel eyes wide and genuine, totally unguarded. Even after everything that I’ve told him, everything that I’ve done, I can see that he really and truly trusts me, though God knows why.

“Put the headphones in.”

He pushes the earbuds into his ears, cringing a little at the volume. He goes to adjust it, but I put my hand on his, shaking my head. He leaves it alone and slips the iPod into the front pocket of his faded jeans.

I take his hands and twist them behind his back. Then I loop his belt tightly around his wrists, over and over until he’s shackled to the tree, his arms behind his back. I come around to the front and look into his eyes. They’re searching mine for answers. He opens his mouth to speak, but then seems to realize he won’t hear my response with the iPod cranked like it is. With no other recourse, he just stands there, his lips parted, a questioning look in his eyes.

This is the moment my life changes.

For better or worse, I have to show him what I am. I want to close my eyes and make some kind of wish, but instead I lean forward and press my lips against his. It may be my last chance to kiss him, and I’m not going to waste it. He leans into me, straining against the pull of the belt. I cup his face in my hands and let the kiss linger for longer than it should.

Then I tear myself away. I step back and unbutton my wet jeans, sliding them down my legs. His eyes glance downward and then flare wide. I don’t break eye contact as I slip my sweater over my head.

“Lexi—” he starts, his voice louder than he realizes because the iPod is cranked so loud. His voice seems to echo into the quiet forest.

I put a finger to my lips to silence him, hoping he can’t tell how nervous it makes me to know he’s watching me as I stand there, nearly naked, but knowing I have no choice. His eyes dart around, as if he expects to catch someone else watching us. Between the way I’m acting, the darkened sky, and the music blaring in his ears, he must be disoriented, thinking I’m totally crazy.

And maybe I am. My bare feet grow cold against the muddy shore, but for a minute, I can’t seem to move away from the intense, confused expression on Cole’s face. I’ve tied him to a tree in the middle of a state forest and here I stand, half-naked.

I step back until I feel the water lap at my toes. And then I stop.

“Can you hear me?”

Cole gives me a confused look. He can’t.

Good.

I turn away from him, then take a deep, not-quite-soothing breath and dive in.

I stay under. For a long time. I swim in circles and try to get my hammering heart to slow down. I know that when I come up near the surface, the iridescent glint of my skin will be enough to tell him the truth.

Besides, he has to see how long I can go without air.

Finally, I burst up to the surface, forcing my jaw to clamp down. I need to make sure he still has the iPod on, so I turn to look at him. He’s still tied up, still has the earbuds in his ears. He’s staring at me, totally, completely still. He could be a statue.

No . . . wait. Something’s not right with his expression. It’s not shock, or awe, or a thousand things I would expect to see at this point. It’s . . . alarm? Is he actually afraid of me? I hadn’t expected to see actual fear, real apprehension....

My heart shreds. He’s genuinely terrified, by the stark look in his eyes—like I’m going to haul him out and kill him or something. Our eyes can’t seem to tear apart, and I just tread water as I take in the dark fear in his eyes.

And then he moves.

And I realize he’s not tied up anymore.

Huh? The shadows shift and rearrange themselves. And then, the full picture seems to focus. It’s Erik who takes a step away from the tree. The moonlight falls across his face, casting a weird, grim darkness over his eyes. He gives me a twisted smile, one that sends a chill racing down my spine. He takes another step, toward Cole, toward me.

Fear ripples through me again. Down my spine, settling low in my stomach. There’s victory in Erik’s look. Like he’s won. What is he doing?

And then it gets worse. Sienna steps out from behind another tree, one hand gripping the bark like it’s the only thing steadying her.

Pajamas. Somehow that’s the first thing I pick up on. She’s wearing flannel pants and a dark gray CCH T-shirt, probably something she borrowed from Patrick. I seem to be stuck on the pajamas, staring at them as if they’re the most important part of this puzzle. Did Erik go to her house, yank her out of bed, and bring her here?

Panic swells again. How much has she seen? I try to read her expression, and I realize: enough. She’s seen enough. I bite hard on the edge of my lip. Hard enough to draw blood.

Why would Erik do this? Why would he ruin everything in one fell swoop?

I throw myself forward, until my bare feet find muddy bank and I climb out of the water. The lake water drips down my hair, slides down my skin. I take a few hurried steps, embarrassed to have an audience when I’m nearly naked. I instinctively go to grab my clothes, but they’re missing. Stolen.

I start to step backward, hide my body in the water, but it makes my skin crawl. I don’t want to see the iridescent scales on my legs either. I’m not sure what Erik wants, only that he controls the situation. Does he want me in the water, or does he want me out?