pull the strings. Those around you have the answers.”
I rub my face. I’m tired of riddles.
“Though,” she stands, taking my hand, the one with the palm gouged out an hour ago. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’ve already been to Eternity and back.”
In the train, my legs are shaking.
Racing from Central Park, on the 6 train, all the way down to the Brooklyn Bridge.
“Old drunk pervert,” I mumble. “I knew he was hiding something.” Thalia pats my arm to placate me. “It’s not our way to give up our secrets. That isn’t who we are.”
“His shelf was lined with it. Water from Eternity. No wonder I feel so stupid! I drank it and that’s the reason for my super healing ability.” I wave my hand in her face.
“It’s a good thing you did drink it,” Thalia says. “Or your fighting hand would be useless.”
“Greg knows where Eternity is,” I say. “Find Eternity, find the next oracle.”
“I wonder…” Thalia says. “Why is Greg here? Why is he not at court? Before tonight, I’ve never heard of such a place as Eternity.” The doors ding open and we get out. Manhattan twinkles on the other side of the bridge. Despite it being past midnight, dozens and dozens of cars speed hungrily to their destinations. We take the same turns as before on the Brooklyn streets. The same cars on the same empty parking lot. The same silence on this dead-end road. I march up the steps to Greg’s withering house. I knock, and it feels as if the whole structure will shatter like glass under my fist. On the sidewalk, Thalia is frozen. Nose turned up to sniff the air. I want to ask her, “What is it?”
But I hear the shuffle of feet crunching over the dried leaves in the backyard. Thalia’s face is suddenly lit by a blue flame. The force that pushes us is like a powerful gust of unstoppable wind. Glass shatters and falls like rain. Brick crumbles to ash. Greg’s house erupts into blue fire. I land on the sidewalk, ears ringing. Hands try to pull me up from the ground. My head is shaking, split in two. I hear Thalia’s voice, muted and far away.
Debris pelts all around.
There’s Thalia again, tugging on me, but the blue fire is mesmerizing and consuming. It’s alive, like hands reaching out to me. “Tristan!”
My ears pop. Thalia is screaming at me. I get up and take her hand. We race back up the street in the direction we came from. I can hear the booming wail of the fire truck in the distance. We stop after a few blocks to check our bodies for missing parts.
We’re intact, although covered in dirt and sweat. Then we keep running, and when I look over my shoulder, I can still hear the crackle of flames, as if they’re following me all the way home.
•••
When I dream, I dream of the silver mermaid.
I hate saying her name, even in my mind. Nieve. Neeehv. In my dream, Layla is sitting on a white beach. It’s snowing. She’s speaking to me in Spanish, and I can’t figure out what she’s saying because even in my dreams I can’t understand it. In my dream, Layla is a mermaid. She has a golden tail that matches her eyes. She shifts in the water and I’m chasing after her until the musky Coney Island water turns navy blue and cold. There’s a whale eating silvery fish by the ton, and I swim beside it until I reach the surface.
Above us, the sky is a clean white. It hurts to look at so much snow, and everything is so pristine that I don’t even notice her sitting on a block of ice until blood trickles from the head of a silver fish. It dots the snow like a constellation and spills into the clear sea in muddy clouds. When she sees me, she smiles. The lovely angles of her face are marred by a nasty set of razor sharp teeth. “You’ve found me…” Nieve’s voice is a tired breeze.
She loses interest in her meal and dives in for me. Her voice is thin and weak, like her body. I know I can swim faster than she can, but when I turn around, she’s still swimming right at my tail. Her jagged nails touch the tip of my fins. I can hear her all around me, like an echo. “You’re mine, Tristan. You’re going to be mine.”