Wake up, Tristan. “I saw things that weren’t mine to remember.”
“When you go down the well, you leave traces of yourself behind. Don’t make that face. You aren’t losing anything. Only now I know your mind as well. From kings and heroes to lost boys and girls, they all leave their memories here. The water is impregnated with the past. The oracle is the keeper of the well.”
“What do they get in return?”
“Unburdening of the soul. Reflection. If they’re lucky, perhaps insight to the future.”
“And what do you want from me?”
She sets her delicate hands on the smooth gold shell. Moves her hair all to one side, exposing herself to me. “I want you to come closer.”
“So you can stick me in a memory hole?”
“So I can look into your eyes.”
There’s pressure at the base of my neck, a force that pushes me right to her until we’re eye to eye. It’s like wading through hip-high water while wearing ankle weights. Her rose irises are as hard as jewels. I can see flashes of lightning, the ground tearing like an open wound, seas whirling, beasts rising from the depths. I shut my eyes against it, but that’s no help. It’s in me—the uproar, the turmoil. The sky rips apart.
Then it’s quiet again. I keep my eyes shut and I’m surrounded by the sea. Behind me is Coney Island. I’m undressing and Layla is laughing, holding her hands to her closed eyes. It’s the first time I let her see me shift into my tail. I let her climb on my back and suddenly I flip her over. She wraps her legs around me and we fall back into the water, kissing.
I’m not prepared for the ragged chuckle that wakes me.
“What’s so funny?” I ask the oracle. Closer like this, I can finally see that the deformity of her legs starts at the hip. The skin has rough grooves as if the skin were burned.
“Even after everything you’ve seen, everything you are, your most powerful memory comes from a girl?”
The pressure around me is released some. I scratch at my scalp where my skin tingles. It’s like she was digging her fingers into me without actually touching me. “Damn, you people are creepy.”
“I’m not people, Tristan. I am eternal. I am the sky that blankets you. The sea that is your home. I am the ether between your dreams. So call me anything you’d like, but don’t call me ‘people.’ I am better than that.”
“Your top half is pretty people-looking.”
“This is just a body. We are modeled by our makers. As you can see, my maker didn’t want me going far.” She pats the smooth shell that holds her.
“Well, if you don’t want anything material, then what can I give you? I’m kind of in a time crunch. Championship and all.”
The smile that plays on her lips sends a tingle down my spine all the way to my toenails. Think of anything else. Think of Kurt stuck in that tube with nowhere to go. Man, he’s going to be pissed when I get him out of there.
“I will give you a choice. You can give me a memory or make me a promise.”
“What do you mean a memory?”
“The one of you and the girl. It’s been so long since I’ve experienced that kind of happiness from any memory.”
My heart is racing. My first real kiss with Layla. “Like, you borrow it?”
“No, stupid boy. It’ll be my memory. Mine to keep. Mine to cherish. It doesn’t do you any good. Human love doesn’t last. All you’ll have left are hazy images. You hoard them in the corners of your mind and they stop you from living. No, it’ll better be kept with me.”
My ears are hot. She doesn’t know the half of it. With the way things are between us, it’s the only thing I have of Layla. Memories. If I have to leave her—no. I won’t think that way. But something snakes its way into my thoughts telling me I will have to leave her; I will have to go. Even though I know I don’t want to, I have to blurt out: “Promise. I choose the promise.”
She frowns, the frown of longing. Maybe I’ve chosen the wrong thing. But she recovers and calls out, “Mina!”
The laria who led us here emerges from a dark corner. I make note that she never really left. Mina carries a conch shell. It’s the size of a basketball with golden patterns. Then I feel