Call of Water (Madame Tan's Freakshow #1) - Marina Simcoe Page 0,52

inside me, even my brain, seemed to have shriveled from cold.

He gave me a distracted nod. “Are you familiar with this area?”

“Well, a little.” I let go of him, turning around.

The landmarks were hard to identify in the darkness. We stood behind some trees on the side of a road with several lanes separated by grassy areas. Across the road, the lights of residential houses shone.

The sound of the crashing water was still audible.

“If the Falls are that way...it means we’re on the American side here, Zeph.” Alarm rose inside me. “We can’t stay here. We need to go back.”

I had no passport or any other ID on me. Zeph certainly couldn’t be hiding a valid passport anywhere in his loincloth, either.

“Well, the bracks are on that side,” he pointed out. “They aren’t very good swimmers. This side is safer.”

“This side is a different country. We risk being detained without proper identification. Do you have a valid passport on you?” He shook his head. “Me neither. No ID, no money, and no place to go to get help.”

“And there?” He gestured at the opposite bank, not looking that convinced.

“That’s Canada over there. I live in Toronto, just a two-hour drive from here.” I wondered if my apartment would still be there for me since I hadn’t paid the rent for the past two months. “My mom’s house is in Oakville, which is even closer. We can get food, clothes, and some money and figure out what to do next. Do you have a better plan?”

He glanced up the river hesitantly. “No. No plan. Just a strong urge to stay away from them.”

That was understandable. However, his confused expression worried me. He seemed lost, and not just geographically. I took his hand in mine.

“We’ll have to be careful,” I said softly. “But we do need to be on that side.”

He glanced at me. The night turned the color of his eyes into deep turquoise, bringing Paris to mind. My heart pinched with ache at the memory.

I stifled a sigh.

“Trust me,” I said the same words he had said to me.

If I could put my own trust issues aside and jump into the freaking Niagara Falls with him, he should be able to believe me on this, too.

Finally, he nodded. “To get to the other side, we’ll need to get back in the water.”

I shuddered, staring at the dark current below.

“Unless you want to use a bridge,” Zeph suggested. “There is one north and one south from us.” He pointed in both directions.

We left the Rainbow Bridge behind, and I recognized the lights of the Whirlpool Rapids Bridge blinking down the stream ahead.

“We will definitely have to avoid the bridges.” I shook my head, resolutely. “The border runs along this river, Zeph. Both bridges cross it. We wouldn’t get far without ID’s. Besides, the bracks might be waiting for us there. Especially, since you said they don’t like swimming much.”

He peered into my eyes intently, saying with emphasis, “I’m not going back to them.”

“Neither am I, believe me.” I wrapped my arms around my cold, soggy sweatshirt. “Back into the water it is, then.”

Hugging myself tighter, I stepped closer to him, bracing for another plunge into the frigid river.

With a short nod, Zeph took my hand, heading down the steep riverbank. “We’ll need to climb down to the water.”

“Oh. You can’t make it come up here?” I tried not to sound disappointed. Apparently, conveniences were hard to give up, even the ones that were hard to believe in, in the first place.

“I need to be in the river, in order to manipulate it. Do you want me to go down on my own?” he offered. “I can raise the wave to come get you, then.”

“No.” I followed him down the riverbank. Standing alone on the side of the road, while wearing wet clothes in a biting wind appealed even less to me than climbing down. “We’ll go together.”

Holding hands, we descended to the stream.

“Ready?” Zeph wrapped his arms around me.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I shuddered, glancing at the dark water rushing by in a swift current.

“It’ll be quick,” he assured me.

I tilted my head back, parting my lips for him, as if for a kiss, although it wouldn’t be one. The way he had placed his mouth over mine when we tumbled down the Niagara Falls was nothing like the kisses I remembered from Paris. That was passionate, warm, and magical. This was detached and clinical, very much like giving