Chapter Thirty-Eight

What? I shake my head, but the words don’t make any sense. All I know is: they’re no longer attacking me, at least for the moment.

My sword. Where is it?

I look swiftly around. There, a few feet away on the dirt ground. I must’ve lost my grip on it when I fell. I scrabble forward and grab the hilt, twisting around and holding the double-edged blade in front of me.

But nobody has moved. The croc-people remain on their knees, their heads bowed. Bodin stares at me, his eyes blinking rapidly as though he’s trying to work out what just happened.

Him and me both.

I replay the moment in my mind. The dart races toward me, and then it snaps by some invisible force and falls to the ground.

My thoughts whirl. So, it was a faulty dart, or maybe someone’s playing a trick on me. If it’s not either of those…well, there’s also the possibility that my ability has manifested.

So what? We’ve seen much more impressive abilities. I watched Mateo transform into a crocodile. Rae incapacitated an entire army of robot monkeys with a single sweep of her sword. Who cares if I can break darts in the air?

Xander, apparently, since he appears at the end of the long tunnel. He sweeps forward, stepping between the croc-people, cutting a path through the sea of their bodies.

He comes to a stop before me, wearing the same outfit as before, even though it’s the middle of the night. Does he wear these clothes while he sleeps? Does he even sleep?

I crab-walk backward, dragging my sword along the ground.

“My dear,” Xander begins. “You don’t know how long I’ve been searching for you.”

“Stay back!” I yell. “Don’t get any closer.”

“You’re safe here.” Xander turns his palms up, as though to show me he’s harmless. “You are the most valuable person on this island. Believe me, nobody is going to lay a hand on you.”

Don’t contradict him, a voice inside me begs. If he mistakenly believes that I should be protected, then it’s not my job to prove him wrong.

And yet…and yet…it will somehow be even scarier if he’s right.

“You’re mistaken.” I continue to move backward. It’s a long tunnel. I’ll never be able to get away, not with an army at his disposal—but the more distance I put between us, the better I feel. “One measly dart broke in the air. I can’t reverse death. I wouldn’t even know how to begin.”

“Ah, you can’t reverse death yet,” Xander corrects. “But I believe one day, soon, you’ll be able to. You see, most of us have one ability and one ability alone. It is the few with the rarest of talents that can manifest multiple abilities, each one more impressive than the last.”

I shake my head. No. I’m not the person he’s describing. I can’t be.

“You must trust yourself, my dear Alaia,” he continues. “When you witnessed what you believed to be your mother falling to her death, you were right in believing that you had manifested an ability.

“We made you walk ten miles down the mountainside, with no food and little sleep. Not only did you survive, but you were able to revive your muscles during the process so that you ended the hike fresher and more energized than when you started.”

He’s right, I think, dazed. That happened. But there has to be an explanation. I just can’t think of one right now.

“You then sailed through the woods, with its maze of tangled roots and confusing turns, in the pitch black, as though it were a child’s playground. Each of your senses has been magnified by a factor of a hundred, and still you didn’t notice.

“That was when I began to suspect.” Xander clasps his hands together. “To hope. To pray. That you might be the one to bring my child back to life. But I’ve been disappointed—no, devastated—before. That’s why I waited until you entered my innermost chamber, which held my innermost heart. My son, may he rest in temporary peace.”

I dart a glance at Bodin. I can’t help it. Like the others, he listens in grave silence, although a pulse beats steadily at his temple.

“And then, when the dart broke and fell inches before it struck you, I knew.” His voice drops to a fervent whisper. “You’re the best hope I’ve found, in my decade of searching. And if I’m right, in a few days’ time, you will reunite me with my boy.”

…

I have no clue if Xander is right. Probably not, because I’m not some savior. I’m not anybody’s best hope for anything…unless it’s being most likely to be fooled by tall boys with long eyelashes.

But Xander’s not trying to torture me or lock me up, so who am I to argue? Although he refused to let my friends go, he’s given me permission to go back to the beach, back to Mama, to live—and wait—in relative peace, until the full extent of my abilities manifests.

The helicopter drops me off on our sandy beach, but this time, no one comes forward to greet me.

Please, pra Buddha cho, I pray as I climb down from the chopper and it lifts off once more. Let Mama be here. Let Mama be safe. Let me not be too late.

The camp has been completely transformed. I blink, twice, to make sure that I’m not hallucinating. To make sure this isn’t a mirage that’s appeared out of thin air.

Our rickety shelters have been removed, replaced by sleek open-air huts that are as nice as our villa in Koh Samui.

A spa area has been set up in one of the huts, complete with an outdoor shower, lounge chairs, and fluffy white towels. Another hut boasts a comfortable couch in front of a large-screen television.

But where is Mama?

I scan the rest of the setup, my heartbeat settling only when I spot her in a hospital bed in the main hut.

I quicken my pace and then break into a full-out sprint. Mama’s hooked up to an IV, the bag hanging on a standing metal hook next to the bed. What’s more, she’s sitting against the headboard, propped up by some pillows.

It’s what I always imagined. Clean, white sheets. Mama, freshly bathed and comfortable. A stack of paperback novels on her bedside, next to a tall glass of ginger beer.

There’s only one difference from the picture in my head: Mama is nowhere close to dying.

“Mama!” I fly to her side. “You look so…well.”

“Sweetheart!” She hugs me tight, and then pulls back to check my face, as though to make sure it’s really me. “You’re safe. I was so worried. Three brought me another lotus flower, and it wilted again.”

“You probably should stop replacing them,” I say wryly. “I get the feeling they’ll all fade away.”

“Not if I tuck you next to me and keep you here.” She scoots over in the hospital bed, and I squeeze in next to her, even though there’s only room for one. I lay my head on her chest, just like I used to as a little girl.

Back then, I thought that so long as I was listening to the steady thump-thump of her heart, I would be safe, I would be protected. Everything would be okay.

Well, I’m grown-up now, and so much has changed—especially my definition of “okay.”

“How are you feeling, Mama?” I ask, looking into the face that I know as well as my own. Maybe even better, since I see it more often than my own reflection in the mirror. “You seem so…healthy…and a few hours ago, you were—”

“Dying?” She takes a sip from her ginger beer and shakes her head wonderingly. “I can actually taste this. The sweetness on my tongue, that bright hit of acid. I thought, for sure, I’d lost all of my senses. And I’d have been pretty pissed if my last taste of life was a bite of rice porridge filled with sand.”

I hold her wrist, letting my thumb rest on her pulse. Steady. Strong. “What happened while I was gone?”

“I’m not sure.” She sets her glass down, looking at the tray table as though it had just appeared. And from her perspective, it probably did.

“My eyelids were heavy. So heavy, like someone had strapped sandbags to them. I was trying to stay awake, because I knew you would come back to see me, one final time. And I knew that moment would be important for you.” She looks into my eyes, more awake, more alert than she has been in days. “And then, I must’ve drifted off, because the next thing I knew, new life had been breathed into me.”

“That’s what it seems like.” I scrutinize her face. Her skin is still smooth, still soft, but there’s new energy inside her. A glow that starts deep in her core. “There’s no way that hydration did this alone. Was Three here? Did he give you the antibiotics?”

“Yes, and I also administered something else,” a voice as tough and dry as old leather says.

I start as a figure sits up on a couch on the other side of the hut. No wonder I hadn’t noticed him. Lying down, his crocodile skin blended with the dark wood. In my peripheral vision, I must’ve mistaken his silver jumpsuit for the couch cushions.

It’s Three—but not like the Three of yesterday evening. This one moves stiffly, as though every one of his joints hurts. His reptile skin extends down his neck and disappears under his jumpsuit. It also covers both hands. He can still walk upright, like a human, but his movements are creaky and slow.

He approaches Mama and me on the bed, holding a crystal orb the size of my hand. It glows as though it has its own source of light. It’s got to be the same as the one on a pedestal in the crocodile pit, the one guarded by all the reptiles. The one that’s apparently the source of all magic.

“There’s no more human medication that can save her,” Three continues, his voice thick. “Late last night, I received permission from Xander to borrow the sacred orb for a few hours, so that I could expose her to its healing rays.”

He hands me the crystal to examine. I hold it up, and for a moment, the energy flares, sharp and vivid. The light reminds me of the fire that’s dancing in Mama’s eyes.

“This crystal is what’s making her better,” Three says. “It’s the only thing keeping her alive.”

“And Xander just gave it to you?” I ask.

Three curls up his fangs. I think it’s supposed to be a smile, but he only succeeds in looking like he’s anticipating his next meal.

“You know Xander,” Mama says wearily. “He doesn’t do anything without taking something in return.”

“What did he take from you?” I ask Three. It’s obvious from the way he holds his body that the price was hefty. This isn’t coconut water or even a tool for a set of windcuffs. This favor concerns the use of a crystal so sacred that it has to be guarded by a pit of crocodiles.

Three shakes his head like he doesn’t want to answer.

And I don’t want to take anything else from this man. He’s already done so much for me and Mama, by bringing the orb to her, by healing her in a way I can’t understand. But the betrayal by Bodin has taught me that I can’t tell my friends from my foes. I need to know exactly who Three is.

“Tell me,” I whisper. I said the very same words a few hours ago to a boy who crushed my trust without a second thought. I say the words now, expecting the worst but hoping for something positive.

Three sighs heavily. “Xander uses our humanity as a bargaining chip. A gift that we earn with our obedience. If we do exactly as he says, he allows us to endure on this island as half human, half crocodile, with some of our memories intact. But if we disobey or if we ask for a special concession, there’s a cost.”

With enormous effort, Three creaks over and sits on a stool beside the hospital bed.

“What’s the cost?” I ask.

“Our memories,” he rasps. “The very thing that makes us human. Take away enough of them, and I’ll just be trapped in the body of a crocodile. I won’t remember. I’ll cease to be human. I’ll cease to be…me. The closer I get to full crocodile, the more difficult it is for me to move in a human body.”

“You traded in memories to bring me the tool to dismantle my windcuffs,” I say as realization dawns. “For each lotus flower that you’ve brought Mama, for every drop of coconut water that you fed to her. And now…this.” I extend my shaking hand at the IV bag dripping fluids into Mama, at the machines measuring her heartbeat. At the hospital bed that keeps her comfortable, at the clean sheets that make her feel like a semblance of her normal self.

And the last, and the heftiest, weight: the crystal itself.

Xander didn’t provide these items out of the generosity of his stone heart. It was Three who siphoned off his memories, Three who sacrificed parts of his humanity. For us.

He nods. “Yes. I gave my memories for her, and for you.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why would you do such a thing? You don’t even know us.”

He looks at me, and then he tenderly picks up Mama’s hand. Because I am between them, their arms are joined over me.

And all of a sudden, I know. Because we’ve laid like this countless times before. The two of them holding hands, with me sandwiched in between. When I was a little girl and they soothed away my nightmares. And when we learned of Mama’s terminal diagnosis a few months ago. All of my life, they have provided a united front, in sickness and in health, in human form and in crocodile.

“Hey, Three?” I ask breathlessly. “Why do colds make bad criminals?”

“Because they’re so easy to catch.” He, as always, supplies the punch line.

I launch myself into his arms. “Papa!”