numb hands. “I wasn’t in a well with a monster, so yes, I’m fine.” Even to my ears, I don’t sound fine. I sound mad.
I turn sharply and start toward Papa’s wheelchair, grabbing onto the handles and jerking him faster across the square. The wheelchair motor whirrs, and the jostling leaf clinks and clanks.
Papa tilts his head. “What’s going on with you, ma chérie?”
“Just emotional.”
“I can see that. But why?”
“Because this is all so insane.”
It’s the truth.
A piece of it.
The other piece of truth I’m not sharing with my father is that I’m jealous. Which is all types of crazy, because I don’t know Slate.
I don’t even like him.
I shouldn’t care that he saw a girl down there.
23
Slate
This is getting ridiculous.
I’m not sure there’s more than an inch of skin on me that’s not bruised or beaten or bloody. I clench my teeth as I peel off the wetsuit, trying not to cry like a fucking baby in De Morel’s guest bathroom. Along with the dirty well water, my blood dribbles onto the floor, creating rust-colored tributaries on the white marble slabs. Finally, the whole suit plops to the ground in a wet heap.
There are eight entire inches of skin that have managed to remain intact. The best eight.
Putain. What a relief.
The bathtub is a clawed-foot porcelain recipient of monstrous proportions. I slide into the steaming soup of aloe infused bubbles—Cadence’s call—unable to stop a moan from escaping my lips as the water licks my battered body. The heat all at once hurts and soothes as it thaws out my numbed flesh.
Now that sensation is coming back, the gash on my jaw where that bitch bit me burns like a mother. And I don’t even want to think about the back of my neck. It’s in fucking ribbons.
I close my eyes but see the siren, so I pry them open and stare at the moonlit lake beyond the foggy window.
Not nearly long enough later, two knocks sound on the door of the Jack and Jill bathroom. You’d think that considering their wealth, the De Morels could afford private en suites for all their bedrooms.
“Slate?” It’s Cadence. “The doctor’s here.”
“I just got in the bath.”
“Yeah. Well, just get out.”
After her effusive hug, which might’ve rated in the top three moments in Slate Ardoin’s pitiful life, she started acting strange. I assumed it was my blood that freaked her out, although, what do I know? Maybe it was seeing me rise back out of that well like a phoenix rising from its ashes.
Sighing, I get up, sloshing more water onto the tiles. There are four fuzzy ivory towels hanging on the rack. I pull one off and press it to my face and chest. Already its soft off-white fibers are turning a bloody brown. By the time I’ve dried my whole body off, the towel looks like it was used to wipe down a crime scene.
Rainier insisted I stay the night here, and I didn’t even attempt to turn down his invite. The room is all puffy white pillows and velour throws and crystal light fixtures. Luxury that reminds me of Marseille, of the life I made for myself there, of the life I’ll be going back to as soon as the others face off with their pieces.
The clothes I changed out of to put on the dive suit are folded on a fat, cushioned chair in the corner of the room. They smell clean. The pure, elegant odor of savon de Marseille. I shake out my shirt, which has been ironed.
Well, look at that.
That’s what it’s like for the rich—having little house elves spiffing things up.
I frown as I put on the shirt. I’m rich now, too. Especially after selling that Renoir. Guess it’s time for me to get a house elf. Spike sure as hell isn’t going to iron my shirts. Although Bastian might.
Once I’m fully dressed and have run my fingers through my hair, I open the door. Cadence is leaning against the wall in the corridor, dragging her fingernails over the embossed stripes of the wallpaper.
She’s changed into stretchy black leggings and a heavy gray hoodie with Université de Brume embroidered in navy thread across the front. Her hair’s pulled into a high ponytail, and her face is scrubbed clean. How could I have mistaken the siren for her? Cadence is a thousand times more beautiful than that creature in the well.
“Hey.” Her scent revs up my heart.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m supposed to remind