CHAPTER SIX

MIRA WOKE RELUCTANTLY, her mind shaking off layers of sleep. She remembered, distantly, the warm pressure of a hand on her back, fingers rubbing up and down her spine. A whispered good morning that felt like a dream.

She lay on her stomach, her T-shirt pushed halfway up her back, the sheets kicked to the floor. When she felt the chill of the air-conditioning on her skin, she scrambled to pull down her shirt.

She wasn’t naked—nothing anyone else would consider private was on display—but it was almost worse than being naked. Because she couldn’t be sure how long she’d lain like that—and whether Felix had seen the ugly mark on her back.

As if she didn’t already have enough strikes against her—now she’d be deformed in his eyes, too. An immature girl with a freakish mark.

She wandered out into the empty suite, trying hard not to cry. Her embarrassment from last night came flooding back.

Why had she been so eager to stay with him? Everything was ruined now. The curtains in the living room were wide open, and she could see the ocean far below. The sparkle of the sunlight hurt her eyes.

On a table near the couch sat a vase of flowers and a crisp white card, and a silver serving tray with a domed lid. Inside the tray, she found breakfast: French toast with strawberries. Opening the card, she found a message from Felix.

Hey beautiful,

I tried to say good-bye this morning but you were impossible to wake up.

Playing catch-up today but I’ll be free later. We can drive to some cemeteries if you want—then do dinner?

I didn’t want you to feel trapped, so I left you my passkey. My home is your castle—you’re welcome to explore, and charge anything you need to the room. All I ask is that you stay out of my other room (suite 3013). I keep some private things there that must not be disturbed.

See you tonight,

Felix

The passkey lay on the table. Mira ran her fingers over it, feeling electric. He’d see her later. They were going to search again; he wasn’t repulsed by her mark. And in the meantime, she was free to explore, go shopping, whatever she wanted. His home was her castle.

She liked the sound of that.

Mira spent the morning exploring the hotel. She roamed the long halls of rooms, imagining the drama that went on behind closed doors. She even went up to the thirtieth floor, to check out the view—but she didn’t go near suite 3013.

Afterward, she headed down to the casino. She threaded her way through rows of slot machines, hoping to run into Felix; then skirted the gaming tables very, very quickly, searching for a head of blue-black hair.

There was no sign of him. Maybe he was in one of the VIP rooms, or in his office.

Or maybe he was in suite 3013. But she wasn’t about to barge into the one place he’d told her to stay out of. Maybe it was a test—and if it was, she was going to pass it.

The last place she explored was the shopping area. She browsed through designer jewelry and clothes, overpriced underwear, and even Dream memorabilia, like glittery T-shirts and magic wand earrings. Felix had told her to charge whatever she needed, but she didn’t want to abuse the offer. In the end, she bought a red satin nightgown from a lingerie boutique called Cinderella’s Secret—but she paid for that with cash, not Felix’s card.

On her way out of Cinderella’s Secret, Mira stopped to orient herself. The Dream’s shopping area was themed, like the rest of the hotel: it was made up of a series of wide corridors decorated to look like a forest trail. Shop windows peeked out from between trees, and vines and flowers grew over everything. A trail of Hansel-and-Gretel-style “bread crumbs” was embedded in the floor. The whole area was called Forest Passage, and in addition to boutiques, there were several cafés, some of which had “outdoor” seating in the “forest.”

Sitting at one of the outdoor cafés was Blue.

He sat with his back to her, at a small metal table, along with Freddie and a dark-skinned girl with a pink streak in her brown hair. Mira didn’t recognize the girl. She was kind of fierce-looking, closer to the Blue end of the fashion spectrum than to Freddie. She wore a shredded T-shirt over a white tank top, black shorts, and boots made for stomping.

Blue was going on about something. It was noisy in the Passage, so Mira couldn’t hear him, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if he was complaining about her. She hung back and spied for a minute, and probably would have gone on spying if Freddie hadn’t spotted her and waved her over.

Scrunching up her Cinderella’s Secret bag so they wouldn’t see the logo, she pasted on a smile and started toward them.

Blue regarded her with a bewildered expression that quickly cooled to indifference.

“You’re alive,” he said.

“I usually am,” she said.

Freddie rose to his feet in an almost courtly way. “Mira, how wonderful! We’d love it if you’d spend the day with us. Um, of your own free will this time.”

“Gee, thanks, could I?” she said.

“Yeah, spend the day with us,” Blue said. “You’re guaranteed one more day that way.”

Freddie frowned. “Blue, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it,” Mira said.

The girl with the pink streak in her hair put down her drink to join in—then pressed a handkerchief to her mouth before any words could escape. Her eyes watered and she started to cough, like she was choking.

“Are you okay? Is she okay?” Mira asked, searching their faces for answers. “Does anyone know the Heimlich—?”

The girl held up a hand to stop her, then breathed and wiped her mouth, clutching the handkerchief in her fist. A wet lavender petal clung to her lip. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Mira said, still feeling like she should do something. “If you’re sure …”

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the girl said. “I’m Jewel.” Her voice was husky, lovely, bluesy. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the pink streak twisted through it like a ribbon. A diamond stud glittered in her nose, and her ears were pierced with a row of precious stones: emerald, amethyst, pink sapphire, onyx. “I sing in Curses.”

“Oh, right. The band.” Mira said.

“We have a show this weekend,” Freddie said. “You should come.”

“Maybe,” Mira said. “I might have plans.”

“You might not be here,” Blue said. Then, turning to Freddie, as if Mira were already gone: “So there’s no use inviting her to anything.”

“I’ll be here,” Mira said.

“In theory,” Blue said, not bothering to look at her.

“Uh … anyway,” Freddie went on, his gaze passing awkwardly between them, “we’d love it if you’d come out with us today. Or come to the show. If you have time.”

“We’re not very good. Well, we are,” Jewel said, “but Blue isn’t. He kind of ruins us. We’d be a good band otherwise.”

“If I was a competent musician, I’d be too sexy,” Blue said.

Mira snorted. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of being our drummer?” Freddie said. “Nobody ever likes the drummer. Do you have to be bad, too?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Blue said.

Mira raised her eyebrows. “Are you telling me you have a drummer who can’t keep the beat?”

Jewel nodded. “He’s lucky we like him. And that girls come to our shows anyway to gawk at Freddie.”

“They do not come to gawk at me,” Freddie said. “They come to watch you.”

“They do not,” Jewel said. Then, to Mira: “Freddie plays hard to get.”

“I don’t play anything!” Freddie protested.

Jewel dismissed his claim with a wave of her hand. “Whatever, yes, you do. Freddie only dates princesses. He’s a snob like that. And princesses are always in short supply, so …”

“You like your girls high maintenance, Freddie?” Mira asked. “Aren’t those girls usually annoying?”

“I’m not … no, it’s not like that.” Freddie seemed flustered, unable to properly explain. “It’s not like that.”

“That’s why he’s still a virgin,” Jewel said with a wicked grin—before being interrupted by another coughing fit. She pressed the handkerchief to her mouth, and when she pulled it away, Mira saw that the cloth was full of sodden flowers: shiny-wet violets, tiny daisies, delicate pink bleeding hearts. All fresh and flecked with blood.

Mira swallowed and felt like she had a rosebud stuck in her own throat. Her mind fought to make sense of this, to feel anything but numb horror.

She had to be misinterpreting what she was seeing.

Jewel couldn’t be coughing up flowers.

Freddie was still stuck on Jewel’s last announcement. He seemed to think Mira’s horror was for him. “That’s not why,” he insisted, color rushing to his cheeks. “And … and it’s not like that’s a bad thing.”

Blue shrugged, unfazed. “We’re all virgins, except for you,” he said to Jewel. “Oh, and except for Mira. She slept with Felix last night.”

“Slept in the sense of sleeping,” Mira said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“You just made it my business by telling me,” Blue said. “So what happened? He decided he wanted to play with you a little first?”

“You know, you are the most … despicable person I’ve ever met.” Mira’s fingers tightened around the Cinderella’s Secret bag. “You don’t even know me, but you insist on being a jerk to me every chance you get.”

“Only because I care,” Blue said, grinning. She would’ve slapped him if she didn’t think he would like it.

“Felix is not someone you want to hook up with,” Jewel said. “You should stay away from him. Count your blessings and move on.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for your opinion either,” Mira snapped.

She knew it was rude, but she was struggling not to say something worse. Blue had no right to embarrass her in front of his friends. And she didn’t need to be lectured.

Jewel shrugged. “Your funeral.”

Mira told them she’d see them later, and left. She wasn’t in the mood to argue about Felix. Blue would say something nasty if she stayed; she’d never be able to get him to back down—especially not while Jewel was agreeing with him.

It wasn’t until she’d emerged from the hotel, and into the hot, bright light of day, that she remembered the blood-flecked flowers in Jewel’s handkerchief—as unnatural and fantastical as the Dream itself. There had to be a reason, even for something as unreasonable as that.

Her throat tightened as Felix’s words came back to her.

I don’t believe in coincidence.

Maybe the curses Blue and his friends joked about, and talked circles around, were real.

Mira made her way from the Dream to the “beautiful shore” Beau Rivage was named for. She wanted to stroll barefoot through the white sand, and think—not daydream, but try to make sense of things.

What exactly was going on here?

And what—if anything—did it have to do with her?

Sun worshippers and day-trippers streamed past her, carrying beach towels and picnic baskets, dog-eared paperbacks, plastic pails, and shovels. They were a blur of humanity, redolent of banana and coconut suntan lotion—but occasionally, an individual would stand out.

The crowd would part around someone, and Mira’s breath would catch. She saw a young man with a white-tipped cane, the skin around his eyes marred by crisscrossing scars. There was a girl whose hair frizzed around her head like dandelion fluff, looking harried as she darted through the crowd, a strange wooden doll clutched to her chest. Mira was tempted to stop her, ask her what was so urgent, but instinct told her not to. Besides, the girl was quick and out of sight before she could try.

Were these curses? Was that what she was seeing? Or was she just paranoid?

Mira was holding on to the railing of the boardwalk with one hand, peeling off her shoes with the other, when Henley and Viv stopped beside her, both in swimsuits. Henley was loaded down with a cooler and a cardboard tray stacked with French fries and hot powdered donuts. Viv was holding her car keys, hip cocked to one side as she fixed the knot on her red sarong.

Mira sighed. She hoped this didn’t mean Blue was on his way. “There’s no escaping you people, is there?”

“Excuse me?” Henley said, with his typical furrowed brow and humorless expression.

“Ha-ha, no, it’s a small world,” Viv said. “I’d like to get away from these losers once in a while, too.”

“If I wasn’t here, you’d have to carry your own shit,” Henley said.

Viv rubbed his shoulder play-vigorously. “You’re right. I’m so lucky!” She leaned in and kissed his arm, then kept her cheek pressed to his bicep, her dark eyes on Mira. “So, outsider, what do you say—join us? I can promise you no Blue, at least for a little while. And free food.” Viv snaked a fry from its paper wrapper and bit off the end. “Deal?”

“Didn’t you guys want to be alone?” Mira asked, watching Viv cozy up to Henley, totally confused by their behavior today versus yesterday.

“Um, no.” Viv laughed, then started down the steps to the beach. “Come on,” she called, waving at a red beach umbrella stuck in the sand. “That’s my spot.”

Viv ran ahead, her ghost-pale skin almost as white as her bikini, while Mira kept pace with Henley. She hooked her fingers inside the heels of her silver flats and carried them, letting her toes sift through the hot sand.

“So are you the gardener or her boyfriend?” she asked.

Henley glared at her. “You did not just ask me that.”

“What? Am I supposed to just know?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Henley sighed roughly, the ice and drinks rumbling in the cooler as he shifted his weight. “You’re an outsider. You wouldn’t understand. So I’m not going to bother telling you.”

“If you don’t tell me,” she said, “I’ll ask Viv.”

Viv was standing under her umbrella, the wind rippling through her red sarong as she peeled it off and flung it aside, like an unwary matador taunting a bull. Henley’s face got tight as he watched her; there was an almost painful attraction there.

“I’m just her toy,” he said finally. “She treats me like shit and then on off days when she’s bored, I’m worth knowing. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Sorry,” Mira said. “I just couldn’t figure you guys out….”

Henley continued across the sand, dropped the cooler next to Viv, and sat down like the seat he’d picked was temporary. Like he’d be ordered away soon enough.

He’d claimed Mira couldn’t understand what was between him and Viv because she was an outsider. And she didn’t understand—but did that mean there was some secret detail that made their relationship make sense? Something an insider would know?

They’d hinted at curses—and she wanted to know what they were. Was it a curse if bad things happened to you? If all your relationships were broken? If you were broken?

Mira had lost her parents to fire. She’d been born with a hideous mark on her back. She was saddled with a sorrow that never grew lighter, and now, with a realization:

Maybe she was cursed, too.

The sun blazed down, pale and furious. Viv was curled up on a blanket under her umbrella, every inch of her drawn into the shade. Henley crouched a few feet away, shooing away the seabirds that were desperate to get close to Viv.

Mira lay just beyond the umbrella’s reach, rolling a wet plastic Coke bottle across her stomach to cool off. Pink light burned through her eyelids. She wasn’t sure how long she wanted to stay, but Viv was quiet, peaceful now, and the crash of waves was a good soundtrack for thinking.

What kind of curse did they all have? And was there something wrong with Felix, too?

So far the most obvious curse was Jewel’s: the wet flowers that rose from her throat, blooming in her waiting handkerchief like the blood of a consumption victim.

There was the odd allure Freddie and Viv held for animals. And Viv had said something about breaking Rafe’s curse; Layla had threatened to shoot Rafe on his “transformation day”. …

Blue was just obnoxious.

She wasn’t sure that added up to anything.

But Viv seemed more open than the others; maybe Mira could get it out of her.

“Your house is beautiful,” Mira said, to get her going.

“It’s a beautiful prison,” Viv said. “That’s all. Like the rest of my life.”

“Why a prison?”

Viv rolled over to squint at Mira. “Regina. My stepmother. She’s obsessed with her looks—and obsessed with mine. She hates me.”

“She probably doesn’t hate you,” Mira said.

Viv laughed. “Believe me—she does. She’ll say stuff like I used to have a body like that or I used to have skin like that. It’s like living in a cage, being scrutinized all the time. I used to feel guilty, like it was my fault she wasn’t happy; now I just hate her. But I’m stuck with her every day, living way out there. My dad spends all his time on the green, avoiding us.”

Viv glanced at her seabird-chasing boy toy. “And then there’s Henley. But he’s doomed.”

“Doomed?”

Viv sighed, and propped her head on her hand. “We’re all doomed here. You picked a crappy place to go on vacation, Mira. You don’t like Blue, do you?”

“No,” Mira said, caught off guard by the change of subject.

“I was worried he was doing his knight-in-tarnished-armor thing and it was winning you over.”

“No, he’s just irritating. I don’t want to be around him any more than I have to be.”

“Okay, good,” Viv said, lying back down.

Mira draped a thick wave of her hair over her face, like it was a shield from the sun. It smelled like Felix’s shampoo. Felix. She’d see him later and Blue would be a bad memory.

“How are you doomed?” she asked after a moment, hoping Viv wasn’t tired of her questions. But Viv was on a roll.

“You know when you go to a carnival, and you get to drive an old-fashioned Model T car, but there’s a metal track between the wheels, keeping you on course? So you get the impression that you’re driving, but if you veer too far in either direction, the track jerks you back into place?”

“I think so….”

“Our lives are like that. It feels like we can do what we want—but if we venture in a new direction, fate pulls us back. We can rebel, but we all know we’ll fail. Which doesn’t stop us from trying, I guess. Like Blue.”

“How does Blue—?”

“Wait,” Viv said, sitting up. She shaded her eyes with her hand and peered out at the water—and at a group of girls, all clamoring for someone’s attention. Someone with Freddie’s honey-colored head.

“I thought I sensed a flock of girls,” Viv said. “Knight’s here; I bet that means Blue’s here, too. Looks like your sanctuary may be compromised.”

“Great,” Mira muttered. That meant now would be an ideal time to go—but she couldn’t leave right when she was making headway with Viv.

Henley started back toward them, his warding job over now that the seabirds were fighting the girls for Freddie’s attention. He ducked under the umbrella, hesitantly, as though waiting for permission and expecting it to be denied.

But Viv was in an affectionate mood. She extended her leg and touched her toes to his chest; slid her foot flirtatiously up and down. “Henley, would you be a sweetheart and get my camera out of the car?”

Henley nodded, transfixed.

“Thank you.” Viv gave him a sweet smile and he slowly got to his feet, like someone waking from a dream.

“It’s too hard to gossip with boys around,” Viv said, once Henley had staggered away. “Now, where were we?”

“You were talking about being doomed. And how it’s futile to try to escape fate. You said that hasn’t stopped Blue. What did you mean by that?”

“Oh. Just that Blue still wants to believe his fate is in his own hands. But it’s only a matter of time before he succumbs.”

“Succumbs to what?” Mira asked.

“Instinct,” Viv said, as if that was sufficient explanation. “I’m still waiting for things to happen to me, personally. It’s embarrassing; I feel like such a late bloomer. I had two significant birthdays go by, and yet—nothing. Sometimes I get so fed up and depressed about it that I feel like choking myself just to set things in motion.”

“Uh, you—what?”

Viv laughed uneasily. “Uh, I’m probably confusing you….”

“Yes. But—feel free to explain.”

“It’s … hard to understand if you’re not from here.”

That again. Mira was about to argue when a rain of cold water droplets spattered her stomach, jolting her upright. It didn’t take long to see where the “rain” had come from.

Blue was standing over her, shaking out his wet hair like an annoying blue dog. Beads of water clung to the muscle on his chest. He was wiry, not buff like Henley, but his body made up for size with definition. Nothing could make up for his personality.

“Stop dripping on me,” Mira snapped.

Blue pushed his hand through his hair, flicking more water at her. “Move if you don’t like it.”

“If I move, it will be to assault you. I don’t want to humiliate you in front of Viv.”

“So considerate.” He sat down, the sand sticking to his skin like powdered sugar, then reached across her to grab a Coke out of the cooler—dripping on her again. He grinned as she glared at him.

“I’m going to find Henley,” Viv announced, tying her sarong around her waist and crawling out from under the umbrella. “He’s either taking a smoke break or using my camera to photograph skanks on the boardwalk. Either way, he’s in trouble. Remember what I said, Mira. About …” She jerked her head at Blue.

Mira nodded. Blue squinted after Viv as she left.

“What was that?”

“She said before that she’s glad I don’t like you. Maybe she was reminding me to make sure it stays that way—but that’s one reminder I don’t need.”

“Good.” He drank half the bottle of Coke, then capped it and lobbed it back into the watery slush in the cooler. The water splashed her leg, and she rubbed it away.

“You have gorgeous legs,” Blue said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you being nice, or sleazy? Because I doubt that’s a compliment, coming from you.”

“Always assume the worst.”

“I can’t wait until I never have to see you again,” she muttered.

She rolled over onto her stomach, tugged a cheap paperback out of her purse, and let her hair curtain her face so she could read. She’d almost succeeded in ignoring him when she felt his fingertip skim the back of her calf, from the hollow of her knee to her ankle. She flipped over and hurled her book at him, the open pages slapping his face.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled. She could still feel the line he’d traced on the back of her calf, cool against her skin, like the seam of a crooked stocking.

Blue shrugged, shameless. “I wanted to see if it felt as nice as it looked.”

“It won’t feel as nice when I kick the crap out of you.”

Blue seemed to consider this. Then: “Are you a dancer?”

“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I thought so. You couldn’t be that sexy naturally. I figured you had to work for it.”

She was working up a response—something that was more than an accumulation of curse words—when she noticed Freddie striding up the beach. He was carrying something in his cupped hands, water dribbling down between them, and he kept stopping and turning back to respond to his admir-ers—girls who trailed after him in a procession of sun-kissed cheeks and tiny bikinis.

When he reached them, he dropped to his knees in front of Mira.

“Mira, have you ever seen a starfish? I brought one so I could show you.”

She glanced quickly at the purple starfish splayed across Freddie’s hands, then back at Blue. He was like a thorn under her skin, constantly irritating her. She couldn’t have a nice, normal conversation with Freddie when she felt like she was about to explode. “Why are you such an asshole?”

“It’s a survival skill,” Blue said. “Really? How does being a jerk give you an edge?” “It gives you an edge.” “Of course it does,” she said, fed up. “I think you’re obsessed with me,” Blue said. “But that’s

okay. I’m not going to judge you for it.” Then he got up before she could hit him. Sand speckled his legs and his swim trunks. The sun had wicked the water from his skin; a few droplets dribbled down from his hair.

Blue turned, and Mira sucked down a bubble of air with her Coke and almost choked—because smack in the center of his lower back, crowning the waistband of his swim trunks, was a fist-size birthmark: wine red like a burn, shiny-smooth like a scar.

Like hers—only it was shaped like a heart. A perfect, dark heart. “What?” Blue said, turning again. “You’re sad that I’m leaving?” “What—what is that?” she asked, pressing her fist to her

chest, coughing like she’d nearly drowned. “What is what?” he said. “That mark. On your back.” Blue shrugged. “Nothing.” She didn’t believe him. That mark meant something. “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious,” Blue said, before he ran

down to the water. The sea ate him up in little bites, first his legs and then his waist and then his chest, until he disappeared beneath the waves. The sun glittered on the water and it was almost blinding; she couldn’t watch anymore.

“Sorry about that,” she said to Freddie. He was still kneeling beside her, dejected but patient—or maybe just quiet.

The starfish looked limp in his cupped hands.

“I’m going to put this back,” he said. “Okay?”

Tentatively, Mira touched the starfish and then withdrew. She felt bad for ignoring him. “Thanks for showing me. I do think it’s cool. I was just—mad before. I don’t know why it seems like it’s his goal to piss me off. I’d rather he just pick one: be nice, or leave me alone.”

Freddie nodded. “Well … that would be better. But he doesn’t have the self-control for that, I don’t think. He just likes you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Um, have you been paying attention at all ?”

“I didn’t say he wants to like you. Just that he does. Maybe because you act like you don’t like him, so he feels a little safer.”

“Freddie, that doesn’t make sense.”

Freddie shrugged. “Blue has, um, weird issues with girls.”

“Because his mom ran away?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it. Just that, I mean, obviously he likes you, but he doesn’t want to, so he’s going a little overboard to keep you at bay. But I think he’s having a hard time just ignoring you because you genuinely don’t like him. Which is strangely attractive to Blue.”

“Like he hates clingy girls, but he gets turned on if he thinks you’re playing hard to get?”

“Uh …” Freddie stopped to think about it, then settled on shrugging again. “I don’t know, Mira. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You could beat him up for me. That would solve a lot of problems.” She flashed him a coy smile.

“He’s my friend. I can’t do that.” But he smiled back, not at all offended, like he knew she was kidding.

She was sort of kidding.

“I’m going to bring this back now, okay?” Freddie gestured with the starfish, lifting his cupped hands, the muscles in his chest tightening with the motion. She nodded, and he trotted down the beach, relaxed and casual. It didn’t take long for the girls to surround him again, and when they did, he sped up; his footsteps got clumsy on the sand, like a bear lumbering away from an upset beehive, paws full of honey. Except Freddie was the honey and the bear.

Mira didn’t, as a rule, chase after boys. But when she followed Freddie with her eyes, paperback pressed to her brow like a visor, she saw herself reflected on his skin. Her wheel, her wine-red mark, was imprinted on the small of his back. They could have been twins.

Twins.

She shoved up off the ground and ran after him. Pushed through the swarm of admirers and grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around. His face was blank with shock. Sunbaked heat sank into her hands.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “You have to tell me what’s going on here.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, too hard. He stared mutely back at her, and she felt like she was touching fire.