The Savage Blue - By Zoraida Cordova Page 0,85

me. I’ve lived so long, and my future is linked to a boy. Funny, aren’t they?”

“Who?”

“The fates.”

I swallow hard. “And how exactly am I invaluable to you?”

“Because we could be great together.”

“You’re a killer.” I hate the way I sound, like a scared, dumb kid.

“You will be one too. Just because you killed a merrow, my child, does that make you better?” She tsktsktsks at me. “What will you do when you have to drive your sword through one of our kind to keep the peace of your new broken kingdom?”

“Shut up.”

“Do you know what happens when you’re alone for ages?” She squeezes my face with her hands, forcing me to look straight at her. The white of her eyes. The blue of her eyelids. “Do you? The pitchblackness of the Caves of Tartarus. The creatures that live there, caged like beasts when far worse lies in my brother’s own court. Whimsical, he is, sitting on a throne that should’ve been mine, entertaining half breeds and stripping our own to pacify beings far beneath us.” She coughs, clutching herself as if there is not enough water or oxygen down here. “I don’t mean you. You’re special.”

She flicks her hand at me again and I’m paralyzed once more. I pull against a force that weighs me down until it pulls me to the ground. Red plants sprout from the ground and weave all over me. Everywhere except my face. She swims slowly, cutting through the water with the elegance of a shark. She props her elbows on my chest, her tail right on top of mine.

“My sons will be here soon. I will drink from Eternity and I will be strong again.” She puts a finger to my lips. My tongue is heavy and fat in my mouth. I can only grunt in protest. “You will see that the only way to keep your loved ones safe is to be with me.”

I want to scream but my voice is gone.

My lips are numb.

She traces the length of my cheek and whispers, “Soon…”

She lowers herself with her mouth slightly open, coming down for a kiss.

The blast of a horn wakes me up.

Kurt is standing over me.

I roll over and realize I’m naked again. “Stop doing that, creep.”

He’s jittery and the energy crackling around him is frantic.

“Get dressed,” he says. “Something’s happened.”

I throw on a pair of shorts off the floor and a T-shirt that smells vaguely clean, and we’re out of the room and into the kitchen.

Layla’s drawing a black X over Tuesday on the wall calendar. When she sees me, she smiles. I finger-comb my bed head before kissing her cheek. The tiles are cold under my feet.

“Where are my parents?”

“Doctor,” Layla says. “Everything is fine with the baby, but it’s her first time going. She’s so scared.”

I splash water over my face in the kitchen sink and use a paper towel to dry off. The last thing I remember is Nieve’s blue lips coming down on me. Why does everyone try to kiss me? There should be rules against that.

“Kurt, spit it out. You guys are freaking me.”

Layla opens the window, letting the cool air out and the warmth of the overcast day in. Curry, sea air, and smoke—the neighborhood smells waft in with something else. The horn blast. “What is that?” A thin strand of lightning crackles on the horizon. “Adaro,” Kurt says. “He’s here.”

I whip around. “Like here, here? Coney Island here?” “That’s what the call is,” Kurt says. “This place is too noisy. I didn’t think it could be one of our calls. There are too many sirens in this place.”

“But why is he here?”

“He’s requesting an audience with you.” Kurt takes his arm knife and checks the blade. “It seems he’s acquired the center staff of the trident.”

The front door cracks open and we jump, even Kurt. “It’s just me,” Thalia says.

Kurt’s voice is like thunder. “Where have you been?” Thalia’s face is hard, greener than usual. She ignores her brother and runs right up to me, pointing at my chest. “You’re bleeding.” When I look down, beads of blood bloom through the white of my shirt. I take it off and rinse it in the sink, then clean the wound. “I want to show you guys something.”

I go into my backpack and bring out the water bottle. “Gatorade has a new flavor?” Layla laughs unevenly. I pour just a single drop on the cut. The skin grows back, stitching itself back together. “The effect doesn’t

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