Page 29

Under the surface it is almost pitch black. She is sitting on the ocean floor, counting the seconds. Her hair drifts around her in eerie tendrils. Shapes move, mostly kelp. And then something different slides into her eyeline. A large mass, drifting down from the surface. It’s a sleeping elephant seal, its body relaxing into its deep dream state and moving into a gentle, downward spiral. watches its passage until it bumps into the ground and settles there.

She wants to stay here with the sleeping seal, wants to know what it dreams of. But her lungs. She kicks off the seafloor and rises to the surface for air. It’s too cold now, she shouldn’t swim at night, but it is like entering a state of bliss she can’t compare to anything else.

emerges from the sea with a shake of her heavy, tangled hair. Unlike the elephant she saw, the furs are all up on the beach, draped over each other in huge mounds.

She scans the ocean, the horizon, looking for any sign of Raff and Rowan. She’s been watching since they went out this afternoon, and she doesn’t intend to give up the vigil, but she needs to get warm. She walks back to the boathouse. Peels off the wetsuit, towel dries herself, and draws on her thermals. On the windowsill are her mother’s things, the items she’s stolen from Dom. Something compels her to take the jewelry—the silver necklace, the earrings, and the three rings—and put them on. She feels the weight of them against her skin. They are warm, probably because she is so cold. Next she takes the silk scarf and drapes it around her neck. Then she draws her finger over her lips as though painting them with lipstick, paints imaginary eyeliner onto her eyelids. Is this what she will be expected to be when she gets back to the mainland? She feels like a child playing dress-up. She won’t fit in, she knows this. Eight years is too long to expect a child’s friendships to hold on, so she has no real friends waiting for her. She doesn’t belong on the mainland, desires nothing about it, but she can’t stay here. She’s not a child but she isn’t really an adult either; the last year has proven that. She is not her mother, not beautiful like Claire was when she wore these things.

She peers around the little shack, looking for any sign of her, any light or shadow, even a faint impression, but there’s nothing. Even with the possessions to tether her, ’s mother doesn’t appear to her like she does to Dom.

comes to her senses and takes off the scarf and the jewelry. She dresses and returns to huddle among the seals for their warmth, continuing her watch for the Zodiac. She isn’t sure what time it is when she sees the shape of her father walking along the beach toward her. But it fills her with dread because he only comes down to her when things are really bad.