Chapter Twenty-One
As in the deep, red rivulets that run down my forearms when I scrub too hard. As in the gush of red that spurts from a bullet-ridden Mama in my nightmares.
Blood. That’s all I can think. That’s all I can feel, racing, circulating in the veins under my skin.
In spite of Bodin’s warning, every cell in my body screams at me to run. Away from this stream, away from the blood. But the others are already starting to examine the water. I have no choice but to stay with them, especially since Sylvie’s bat, no doubt spooked by the red river, takes off down one of the many tunnels, flying too quickly for me to follow.
And so, I trail after the others down a slope so that we’re level with the water. Gritting my teeth, I peer back at the stream. And—oh—oh, it’s not blood, after all. The liquid is too translucent, too watery for that. The water rushes by, brilliant and red, gleaming a bit brighter where the sun from the overhead gaps hits.
“What is it?” I ask.
“No clue.” Bodin prods the water with a stick.
I’m not sure what to expect—for the water to sizzle, or the stick to burst into flames? Neither happens. When he pulls out the stick, it is simply wet and tinged slightly red.
“Rae?” I turn to our resident folktale expert. “Can you explain this?”
Rae juts out a hip and places her hand on it. “Now you want my opinion?”
I nod as nicely as possible, and she lets her arm drop.
“There is a legend about red waters that swirl in the wrong direction and crocodiles who can change into human form,” she says. “These croc-people feel no hunger and can easily survive without eating. But I don’t see any crocodiles. Do you?”
I bend down to get closer to the water—and then I jump backward, screaming.
A massive…thing…snaps its jaws in the air, missing my face by mere centimeters. If I had leaned in any farther, I would no longer have a head. I scream again, rolling away from the stream’s edge as quickly as possible. And then I scream once more as the creature slides back into the water and disappears under the red surface.
Sylvie croons words that I can’t quite decipher but sure sound comforting.
“What was that thing?” I gasp when my vocabulary returns. “Can you communicate with it?”
“No,” Sylvie says. “I tried to tell it that we mean no harm, but my thoughts are…blocked? Kinda like the way I’m obstructed when I try to communicate mind-to-mind with a human.”
Bodin frowns. “How would you know that? Unless you’ve tried to send one of us a telepathic message.”
“What’s the problem, Bodin?” Sylvie asks archly. “Don’t want any of us sharing secrets that don’t involve you?”
Maybe they continue the conversation. Maybe they don’t. I can’t pay attention because a pair of eyeballs rests just above the water’s surface. The rest of the creature’s body is concealed under the red water. As soon as I see these eyeballs, I begin to notice other pairs. No less than ten sets of eyeballs stare at me from the stream, each belonging to…
“The aforementioned crocodiles,” Rae says triumphantly.
I round on her. “How can you use a word like aforementioned when I just about lost my head?”
“Oh, excuse me,” she retorts. “I’ll be sure to use itty-bitty words in the future, for your itty-bitty brain.”
“Use this!” I shriek, throwing a fist in front of me. Sylvie grabs me, holding me back, so that I end up swinging at the air.
“Easy, princess,” Rae says evenly. “You don’t want to start a fight you can’t win.”
After a few cartoonlike flails, I go limp. Holy crap, what was I thinking? If Sylvie hadn’t stopped me, would I actually have…hit…Rae? I’ve never been violent toward anyone or anything in my entire life.
This island is changing me. Not necessarily for the better. Perhaps that’s what Xander intended, but the realization makes me more determined than ever not to play his games. To hang on to my identity—whoever that is—no matter the cost.
“What are the crocodiles doing in the water?” Mateo tosses a smooth rock back and forth, as though he’s considering skipping it across the surface.
“Swimming,” Rae says. “Waiting to chow down on people silly enough to stick their heads in the water.” She glances at me, but I refuse to rise to her bait.
“It doesn’t matter,” Bodin cuts in.
“Alaia was almost eaten alive!” Mateo exclaims. “How does that not matter?”
“Of course Alaia matters.” Bodin lowers his voice and speaks directly to me. “More than you’ll ever know.” He locks his eyes on mine. His words should fill me with warmth, but his gaze is soaked with apprehension, and it halts any happiness I might feel.
“I just meant, it doesn’t matter if crocodiles live in these red waters or not,” he continues, raising his voice again. “We’re not going swimming. I doubt they’ll bother us if we leave them alone. The fact remains: following this stream is probably our best bet out of here.”
“Why can’t Sylvie just summon another bat?” I ask, which seems like the logical solution.
“He doesn’t trust me,” Sylvie says, her eyes fixed on Bodin’s face. “He’s afraid of what I might be telepathically communicating to you guys without his knowledge.”
The tension flares between them, becoming a live, palpable thing. Bodin stares at her for a long moment, and then he relaxes the hands, which he had fisted.
“Of course I trust you,” he says to Sylvie. “But the first bat didn’t lead us out of this cave. It only took us to these red waters. Don’t let the sun above mislead you. We’re no closer to the exit than we were before. I’d like to try something else.”
She nods but doesn’t speak. Even Rae and Mateo are bizarrely quiet.
“I don’t care what we do,” I finally say, “so long as we can go five minutes without me almost dying.”
Sylvie barks out a laugh, and one by one, the others follow suit. Honestly, my comment wasn’t even that funny. But I suppose so much stress pulses through the air that we’d do anything to cut through it.
I’d much rather laugh than cry, especially since I know that once my waterworks start, there’s no stopping them. Because today is Mama’s last day of medicine.