Chapter Forty
I wish I knew what that meant. I asked Papa to elaborate—but he said that part of playing my own game was figuring that out for myself.
We slept well that night—with Mama on the hospital bed, me on the couch, and Papa on a nest of blankets on the floor. It was just like the family slumber parties we used to have in the den, stealing one another’s comforters and racing to see who would fall asleep first.
Except, you know, for the fact that Papa transformed into a full crocodile. Fun fact: crocodiles do not snore in their sleep, much to Mama’s surprise. She teased that it was the most peaceful slumber she’d gotten in the last twenty years.
As much as I want to soak up every moment of my parents’ attention, though, they deserve time together, just the two of them. And so, after Papa returns the crystal orb to its rightful location, back inside the crocodile pit, I leave my parents cuddling underneath the main villa and wander into the woods.
I’m not gunning for a destination this time. Not weaving in and out of the dark. I take a moment and just breathe in the sun slanting over the trees. The flowers unfurling their arms to the sky. The leaves dance to the melody of the wind, and it’s actually…beautiful.
I forgot that there was a world bigger than Xander’s game. That even on this island, there are places and moments not marred by his manipulation. That in the midst of this chaos, I’m still me.
Maybe that’s what Papa meant by playing my own game.
I come upon a pond filled with rich golden liquid that sparkles wildly in the light. I suck in a breath. I’ve heard about this place before. But where? One of Mama’s stories? The clearing certainly looks like a fairy tale. Dainty trees grow all around the pond’s bank, their leaves silver and gold—just like Eduardo’s sacred tree. A thin waterfall trickles over a large boulder, spraying up drops of water. Even the sunlight here feels diffused, as though it is filtered by the lacy filigree of magic.
I find a large, flat rock by the pond’s edge and empty my backpack of its provisions so I can sit on it and listen to the water bubbling over the rocks. The pool might be golden, but it still has the characteristics of water. I…just…relax. For maybe the first time since my so-called vacation began.
And then, I’m pulled from my serenity by a rustling. More accurately, twigs break, leaves crackle, and branches snap. Someone—or something—is barreling through the woods, right toward these ponds.
Instinctively, I duck behind the rock as a figure crashes into the clearing. I blink. I thought I’d seen it all by this point, but this…this…human tree is quite unlike anything I’ve ever imagined.
This tall, tall tree is all limbs: thick trunks fused together to form legs, and long, willowy branches dotted with blooming pink flowers that function as arms. A face is carved into the trunk—two eyes, an elegant nose, and a mouth that’s breathing hard. Do trees have lungs? This one does, apparently, as it flails about the clearing, snatching at thin air.
It takes another few blinks before I realize that this human tree is grabbing at the leaves—and failing spectacularly. Hesitantly, I creep back onto my rock, pluck a golden leaf, and hold it near the tree’s branches, er, fingers.
The tree grabs the leaf, stuffs it into its mouth, and then collapses on the ground.
I peek between my fingers, afraid I’m going to see a stack of firewood. Instead, I see a naked human body curled into a fetal position.
And not just any human, either. Now that it’s set back in the context of his face again, I recognize those finely shaped eyes, the proud nose—Bodin.
My heart should harden. I should stalk away and leave him on the ground, regardless of his welfare. But his face is twisted in agony, and he’s letting out little whimpers. He may have betrayed me in the worst way, but he’s obviously in pain, and I can’t just abandon him.
I hover over him, not sure where—or if—to touch him. “Bodin? Can I help?”
“Give me a minute,” he mutters.
“The transformation shouldn’t be this painful,” I say, remembering the ease with which Eduardo shifted from monkey to naga to pile of gold. “At least, it wasn’t for Eduardo.”
“It’s not the transformation.” He grunts as he tries to sit up.
Panicked, I look around for something to cover him, since he’s, uh, naked. I almost find myself wishing he’d stayed a tree, because I’d rather deal with that than this.
There! Underneath the bushes—a set of neatly folded clothes, as well as a towel, thank goodness. So, the transformation was planned, then.
I toss him the athletic pants and avert my eyes while he drags them on. Only then does he seem to notice who’s helping him.
“Alaia?” He gawks at me. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a small island,” I say stiffly. “Since you and your dad have imprisoned me here, we’re bound to run into each other once in a while.”
“My dad’s choice. Not mine.”
“Same thing, isn’t it?”
He snorts. “Hardly. You’d think I’d be here, like this, if it were up to me?”
I turn and look at him fully—and that’s when I notice that he’s cradling his left hand to his chest.
No, not his hand. Just an arm…and a cauterized stump where his hand used to be.
“What happened to you?”
He leans back against a tree trunk and grimaces, as though that slight movement caused him pain. “I begged him not to do it. But he was in a rampage last night, after seeing the dart break in the air inches before it hit you.” His voice is resigned, rather than jubilant, at the prospect. “Xander’s never been so close, and yet so far, from his dream, his one singular mission in life. He’s waited so long to have his son back that I guess he couldn’t fathom waiting even a few more days. So, last night, he made me transform once again.”
“What do you mean?” I try to put on a brave front. Try—unsuccessfully—to keep my voice from pitching. Because whatever Xander made him do…it’s got to be more awful for Bodin to endure than for me to listen to it.
“My ability is similar to Eduardo’s,” Bodin says solemnly. “But instead of shifting into all sorts of nifty objects when I munch on a sacred leaf, I turn into one thing and one thing alone.”
“A tree?” I take a wild guess. “I can see that. You’re so solid, so strong. Solitary, too.”
He lifts an eyebrow, and I flush, not sure why I’m complimenting him. He betrayed me, remember? I shouldn’t have anything positive to say about him.
“Sometimes our ability seems to reflect our nature. And sometimes, it doesn’t.” He closes his eyes, as though exhausted by the whole conversation. “No one really knows. It’s not like this island came with an instruction manual.” His voice turns bitter. “Lucky me, I happen to possess the worst possible ability for someone whose father is inhumanly obsessed.”
“Xander did this to you?”
“Oh, yes.” Bodin’s mouth twists. “As the folktale goes, if a boy turns into a tree—by way of a sacred leaf—and you pluck just the right amount of blossom, when he transforms back into human form, his pinkie finger will be missing. Dip that hand into a golden pool, and a gold finger will grow back in place of the missing digit. That finger, when pointed, will have the power to reverse death.”
He bangs the back of his head lightly against the tree. “It hasn’t worked yet, in the dozen times that Xander has tried. He sometimes plucks too little; most of the time, his greedy hands grasp too much. Not that it’s ever stopped him from giving it one more go.”
My mouth drops as the horror of his words sinks in. “You mean you’ve lost a hand before?”
“A hand, a foot. An ear or sometimes two. Any extremity is up for grabs. Once, I lost an entire leg. That was a long six months before that limb grew back.”
“But it always grows back?”
“So far.” He lumbers to his feet. “This is awkward, but I need to take a dip in the pool. Otherwise, my hand might not regenerate.”
Oh. I’m blocking his way. “Of course.” I move to the side, blushing.
He hooks his thumb into the waistband of his pants. “I’m going to strip again. You might want to look away.”
Quickly, I drop my eyes. My cheeks flame even hotter when I hear the rustle of his clothes, and I see—in my peripheral vision—his bare feet step out of the pants.
The water splashes as he dives into the pond. Eleven seconds—that’s what I’ll give him. I could walk all the way to the other side of the pond in that duration. That should give him plenty of time to submerge himself.
I look up just as his head and chest pop out of the water. “Ahhh!” I scream.
He wipes his hand down his face. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that reaction to my naked torso before.”
“You scared me,” I mutter. I sit on my backpack on top of the rock, carefully arranging my legs, so I don’t have to look at him. One glance at the water sliding down his chest, and my cheeks are permanently red.
“Alaia, look at me. Please.”
Reluctantly, I lift my head. His chest and shoulders are back underneath the water—but honestly? It’s not any easier to see the droplets clinging to his eyelashes.
“I’m very sorry that I lied to you,” he says. “I didn’t want to trick you—or the others. I completely understand if you hate me. But I want you to know: my feelings for you are genuine. Every time we touched or kissed—it was all real. I never tried to manipulate you. I like you, Alaia. More than you could ever know. I only wish we had met in any other circumstance. I wish my father isn’t who he is. I wish I…had any other life but this one.”
“Oh, Bodin.” I don’t know if I can forgive him, but my heart aches for him. He’s suffered, too. He’s been a victim, too. It doesn’t excuse what he did—and a lot of anger still simmers inside me—but I can’t shut him out completely. “I’m sorry, too, that this is your life. But you can still do the right thing. You don’t have to listen to Xander.”
I lean forward. “I don’t know how much of you is true, and how much is false. But I have to believe that I’ve glimpsed the real Bodin. And this Bodin that I see? He’s good, at his core. No matter who his father is. No matter what circumstances he grew up in.”
He ducks under the water, as though my words are a truth he doesn’t want to face. This time, I keep my eyes on the concentric circles where he disappeared, on the air bubbles floating to the surface, until he emerges once more.
“I know that…he’s a bad man,” he blurts before I can say anything. “I’ve known that for a while, but it’s taken some time for me to accept. I mean, he’s my dad, you know? He hasn’t always acted like a father to me. Hell, his paternal moments are few and far between. But he’s the only family I have.” He closes his eyes, breathing deeply as though that will keep his roiling emotions under control.
“A part of you buys into his dream, don’t you?” I say suddenly. “You want your brother to come back to life, too.”
“He’s my brother,” Bodin says, treading water, although I’m fairly sure the pond only comes up to his chest. “More than that, he’s my twin. My other half. When he died, it’s like I was sliced right down the middle. And without him, I know I’ll never be whole again.”
He falls silent. The only sounds are the gurgle of the water, the woosh of the wind. The intensity of his pause, filled with all the things he has yet to say. I get it. I, of all people, know how it feels to not be whole.
“But despite all of that, I want to stop this cycle of torture. I do,” he says. “This time was different. Usually, Xander and I stay away from the castaways. There’s no game, no challenges. The castaways believe that they’re stranded on a remote island, without any answers. One or two of them usually manifest their abilities right away, but it would take weeks for all of the powers to surface. They would settle into their new life, form a community. Little by little, they would venture out, explore the island. And one by one, they would encounter the obstacles built into this island and slowly come into their powers.”
“Why did you change it up this time?”
Bodin’s hands splash up a little water. “Xander’s patience is running thin. I don’t know what the big hurry is, since he’s already been searching for ten years. But for the first time, this island feels volatile. Like something’s brewing and about to erupt. Xander didn’t want to wait for weeks, so he made me join all of you as a fellow castaway so that I could hurry things along. He revealed himself and the truth of this island to you, maybe because your mom and Rae had already guessed, or maybe because he thought it would quicken the process.”
Bodin swims closer to my rock. Not close enough to touch, not near enough that he risks exposing himself…but closer. “It changed me, being around all of the castaways, and especially you,” he says softly. “It made tangible the hurt we were causing you. It cast Xander’s quest as selfish and uncaring, rather than loving and noble. I…don’t want to be this person anymore. But I’m not sure I can be the person you described, either.”
“You can,” I say firmly. Is this what Papa meant? Is this how I play my own game? Is this the way to finally beat Xander and save the people that I love? I take a deep breath. “And you can start by getting us off this island.”