Katrina studied Dr. Powell’s modern two-story house. It stood not far from Drew’s parents on a quiet cul-de-sac. Lights shone through the large front windows and illuminated a living room with a fireplace.
Would his parents come? She’d both texted and emailed them, hoping they would join her for this meeting at Graham’s home. Surely his emotional and mental health were more important than the secrets they’d kept from him.
She turned off her car, but didn’t get out. Her phone lay on the console, its dark face accusing. She should never have come without telling Drew. But he would never have agreed for her to come at all.
He’d be in the midst of his show by now and wouldn’t see the text until they went on break. She picked up the phone and typed in an explanation of where she was and why she’d felt compelled to come.
Feeling better now she’d messaged him, she shoved open her car door and got out. Halfway to the front door she sensed movement to her left and turned to see Graham Powell coming out of the shrubbery, something gripped in his hand. She froze at the sight of the pistol, the barrel black and threatening. Though she could heal with great effort, she was as vulnerable to bullets, knives, and other weapons as any human.
“You don’t need that, Dr. Powell.”
She couldn’t see his lips move well enough to read his reply, but she understood his movement with the gun. She preceded him up the walkway and steps to the front door. Knowing were the weapon was pointed, her back tensed against the threat. Beneath the porch light she read his lips. “Go on in.”
She turned the doorknob and entered a wide foyer. There were stairs leading up were on the left, and further to the left was a darkened room. On the right lay the large living room she’d seen from outside.
Graham motioned to the right with the gun, and she walked into the room and slowly turned to face him.
He looked far worse than the last time she’d seen him. He had the unkempt appearance of someone under extreme pressure. He’d obviously slept in his clothes, they hung in wrinkled folds down his frame, and his blond hair stuck up in spikes.
“Are you okay?” Katrina asked.
His green eyes flared. “No, I’m not. You damn near broke my wrist.”
She glanced past the gun to his hand holding it. Dark purple bruises marked his skin. “I didn’t mean to. You were upset, and I just wanted to keep you with me long enough to calm you.”
“Upset?” He threw back his head and laughed. “You were my worst nightmare.”
Katrina flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was holding onto you so tightly.”
Graham strode toward her, the gun leading the way. Katrina backed toward the fireplace.
He stopped and his bloodshot eyes swept over her face. “What are you?”
She’d held the secret close for so long, the words refused to come.
“Whatever kind of monster you are, I’m sure a bullet will end you just like it will most things.”
Her mouth went dry and her eyes were riveted on the weapon. “Yes, a bullet will end me. Is that why you’ve asked me to come here?”
“No. I want to know why you smell like a memory. Why your face, as it was last night, has starred in every one of my dreams since we met.”
“I don’t know. We never met before I came to your office. I’d remember if we had.”
“How would you remember?”
“I have a photographic memory.”
“Will you live as long as or longer than a human?”
“I am human, Dr. Powell.” She wasn’t lying. She was as much human as Mermaid.
He shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
“My mother was a young woman living somewhere near Juno, Alaska.”
“And your father?”
“I don’t know him.” It wasn’t a lie. Though they’d met that one time, he had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her.
“Why don’t your blood tests show anything out of the ordinary?”
“Why shouldn’t they? I’m human.”
He thrust the gun forward, his face reddening. “Quit saying that. You’re not. You’re something else.”
Katrina raised a hand as though to ward off the shot, a yelp escaping her. A bullet would travel right through her hand and into her body; there would be no stopping it. Her heartbeat hammered in her throat, cutting her air supply by half. “What difference does it make what I am? I’m not going to hurt you. I never meant to frighten you. Why do you want to do both to me?”
“Because I have to know. And you’re going to tell me.”
He was never going to stop until he’d heard the words. His father was right. He was obsessed and driven by the demons haunting his dreams.
“Whatever it is you see in your dreams, it no longer exists. I’m the last.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“If I say we were all deaf, are you going to start hunting down every deaf person on the planet and demanding to scan of their skull in hopes of finding another like mine? Are you going to ask your parents if you can scan them? In all the hundreds of scans you’ve seen over the years and in medical school, have you ever seen another like mine?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t others.”
“There aren’t. I’m alone. And I’m just trying to live the only life open to me, Dr. Powell.”
“Your boyfriend, the singer, does he know?”
“No.”
Disbelief flashed across his features. “He had to have seen you as I did.”
“Maybe he’s able to accept me, to love me despite my being deaf and a little different.”
If he allowed her to sit, he’d have to sit as well. Just talking like two civilized people might ease his manic anxiety. She made a move toward one of the wide overstuffed chairs.
“No. Don’t sit down. We’re going out back.”
Her hope died. “I won’t be able to read your lips outside.”
“We’ll see. I have lights on out there.”
With the gun, he waved her through the dining area at the end of the living room. She passed a table with an inlaid top that looked like a tortoise shell.
They went through a wide doorway leading into the kitchen, and Katrina noted marble counter tops and appliances worthy of a chef. Everything was spotless. The house was a showplace decorated by a designer, but empty. No scattered papers lay on the kitchen table. No dirty dishes in the sink.
Did he live as isolated an existence as she always had? Until Drew. Tears burned her eyes. Why had she come? Why had she risked losing her life? If she’d just stayed home, all this might have gone away.
She came to a set of French doors leading out onto a wide patio and a pool. Light bloomed from beneath the water, reflecting off the glass-topped tables set around it, their pale blue umbrellas capturing the glow and holding it. Her stomach twisted and she stopped.
He’d guessed something about her from the scans, and from her transformation. Graham stuck the barrel of the gun against her spine and reached around her to open the door. He prodded her outside.
Katrina rushed forward, trying to put distance between them, but Graham grabbed her shoulder and put the gun against the small of her back again. He guided her around the side of the pool to the deep end.
She stopped five feet from the edge and turned to partially face him. Every time she moved, she expected to feel the gun discharge and a bullet rip through her body. The air stank of chlorine. The smell settled in the back of her throat. The underwater lights in the pool reflected off Graham’s face, creating dark shadows around his features, making it harder for her to read his lips. Her heart beat so hard it drummed against her wrists and throat. “I’m not getting into the water, Dr. Powell.”
“I need you to do this.”
Katrina turned. “You’re a doctor. You promised to care for me. You took an oath to do no harm.” She cupped the dressing over her ear.
She read the indecision in his face, smelled his fear, felt his torment. Pity rose in her.
If his parents had blocked his memories as she thought, he would keep fighting until he recovered them or went insane trying. Keeping her hands raised, she turned to face him. “Tell me about your dreams.”
He shuddered and the gun shook in his hand. “I’m in the water, and I’m choking because water is going into my mouth. I can’t breathe. There’s a face that rises up in front of me.” His gaze, intent and fearful, fastened on her with horror. “It looks like a mask, but it isn’t. She grabs me, and I’m screaming, and water goes into my throat.” His eyes went distant, but panic and fear still rolled off of him in waves.
Katrina gripped the top of the pistol, pushed it aside, and held it there, fearful he might pull the trigger by accident. She trembled as badly as he, his suffering affecting her more each minute. Why weren’t his parents here? Why had they done this?
“I want to help you, Dr. Powell.” She swallowed and blinked to clear her vision as tears welled, then rolled down her cheeks. She had come here knowing she might have to sacrifice everything to protect Drew and his family. To protect others like her. But she hadn’t realized what she might have to do so to save this man.
Graham Powell was slowly drowning in his pain.
“You have to put the gun down, Dr. Powell. You have to trust me as much as I’m going to trust you.”
“Your skin shimmers when it’s wet,” he observed. He reached out and touched her cheek.
The salt in her tears was causing the change. Her throat felt so dry and clogged with emotion it was hard to speak. “I’m not a monster. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.”
He released the pistol, and the weight pulled heavy in her hand. With a backhand toss, Katrina threw it into the pool. She backed toward the edge of the water. He shuffled forward, following her. Her fingers trembled as she unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. She pulled the useless dressing from around her head and dropped it on the concrete.
She turned her palms up and he grasped them.
She’d wanted so much to have a normal life. To wake every morning in Drew’s arms. To have his children. To share his family.
Though Drew had tried to teach her to lower the door between them outside of an intimate physical situation, she’d never been able to do so.
She wanted to do it now, more than anything else. She needed Drew to know how much she loved him. She closed her eyes and thought of him, and tried to capture how she felt when they were together.
She stepped back over the edge of the pool and plunged in.
Drew followed the rest of the band backstage for their first break. Things were going well. The club was packed with couples, and everyone seemed to be either jamming to their music or dancing to it.
Simon, Rand, and Tony filed into the dressing room ahead of him. He was surprised to hear a female voice greet them. He paused at the door as he spied Brianna sitting on the couch. The baby lay in a strange-looking carrier at her feet. He debated on whether or not to step in and get his cell phone, then decided to slip down the hall to an empty dressing room and just wait until she left.
“Drew.” At the sound of her voice he paused with his hand on the doorknob. With a sigh turned to face her. She’d semi-tamed her wild head of reddish-brown curls by pulling most into a scrunchie at the nape of her neck. Some of the baby weight still rested in her hips, but the black knit pants and loose top she wore looked attractive.
They’d never been close. There had always been the best friend’s-wife thing hanging between them and he’d accepted long ago they were never going to be buddies. He’d been carefully friendly and shown her respect because of Simon. But he didn’t have to take her shit and he wasn’t going to.
“Why don’t you come in and see the baby?” she asked.
What game was she playing? The last time they’d seen each other she’d been screaming at him to stay away. Some of the pain he’d experienced then echoed through him. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
She walked toward him, each step purposeful. She stopped directly in front of him. “I want to apologize, if you’ll let me. I know what a bitch, more than a bitch, I was that night.” Her bottom lip quivered and she swallowed. “I know I hurt you.” She made a placating gesture with her hand. “I was afraid, Drew.”
“Yeah, I could see that.” He studied the industrial tile on the floor, seeking patience. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. Simon’s my closest friend. All I’ve ever wanted for him was happiness. That includes you and the baby, so I’m down with that.”
“But it also includes having you in his life Drew.” Her voice trembled with emotion. “I’ve been in a panic since I got pregnant, worrying about money, about the women trolling the bar, looking for a thrill. They hang around outside waiting for all of you, hoping an autograph will lead to more. You get them primed for it, Drew.”
He understood what she was saying, but what Tony had mentioned to him at the hospital played into it, too. He had nothing to lose no matter what he said to her. The damage had already been done. “Things have changed for us all now, Brianna. But the one constant that hasn’t changed is that Simon loves you. He’s never lost sight of his feelings for or his commitment to you. And he’s just as in love with and committed to the baby. We’ve worked hard for nearly ten years to achieve success. Simon’s music is as essential to him as air and food. If you convince him to give up his dream, he’ll be eaten alive by regret and he’ll grow to hate you for it.”
He looked away from her tear-streaked face. “There’s always going to be women around drawn to the success and the hype of the music scene. Simon and I direct them Tony and Rand’s way these days. It’s up to you to decide to trust him or not. To decide whether you love him enough to set aside your…” he started to say insecurities and settled for “…reservations and look out for his happiness as much as he tries to look out for yours.”
It took several moments for her to regain her composure. Though Drew was tempted to comfort her, he kept his distance.
She wiped her face with a tissue from her pocket. “I know you’re saying all this because of how much you care about Simon. Which makes what I said to you even worse.” She looked so forlorn he started to touch her, but balled his hand at his side instead.
“Will you ever be able to forgive me?” she asked.
“For Simon?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, hope filling her eyes.
He couldn’t expect Simon to remain suspended between him and Brianna. She was his wife. Simon owed her his first loyalty. Now that Katrina had come into his life, he understood that. But obviously Simon had been talking to her, and convinced her he meant neither her nor the baby harm. “Okay.”
Relief flooded her features. “Would you like to see the baby before you go back on stage?”
He hesitated. It was going to take him a while to truly get beyond what had been said. “Sure.”
He followed her back to the dressing room. Tony was making a fool of himself, cooing at the baby and rocking side to side in slow motion. “Your turn, Uncle Drew,” he announced, and Drew had no choice but to lift his arms and cradle the baby when Tony transferred her tiny bulk to him.
He looked down into her dark blue eyes and smiled when she yawned and stretched. She studied him with wide-spaced eyes similar in shape to Brianna’s but he saw Simon there too in the curve of her chin. He glanced up to find Tony and Rand grinning at him. Simon looped an arm around Brianna’s waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. She turned to curl into him.
“What’s her name?” Drew asked.
“We settled on Simone,” Brianna said.
“I know it’s a little—” Simon began.
“Perfect. It’s perfect,” Drew cut him off and smiled. “Hello, Simone.”
Back onstage Drew had just introduced the seventh song in the show when a wave of emotion rolled over him like a tsunami. It was a blend of tenderness and passion, but more. It was followed by a burst of grief so strong his eyes burned and his throat ached.
He stopped playing mid-note and grabbed for his cell phone, but his pocket was empty. The phone was in the dressing room in his jacket.
He crossed the stage at a lope until Simon brought him up short when he snagged his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Something’s wrong with Katrina. I have to go.”
Simon looked at his empty hands in confusion.
Drew jerked away. He didn’t have time to explain. He leaped behind the stage and tore down the hall to the dressing room. Brianna was gone. He ripped the cell phone free of his jacket pocket hit the command, bringing up her text.
“Fuck!”
The water covered Graham’s head, and he closed his eyes against it.
Relief flowed through him. This torture would end. He would learn what it was he saw in his nightmares and why it haunted him.
Though the pool was heated, the water around him grew steadily warmer. He opened his eyes to find Katrina’s calm blue-green eyes looking into his. They appeared larger, her chin more pointed, her widow’s peak more defined. Her sweater floated around her, as did her hair. Her skin glowed as though veins of mother of pearl ran beneath its surface. A powerful current forced water up around them, but held them suspended three feet below the surface.
Graham glanced down at the lower half of her body. Blue-green scales covered her legs. Her feet had elongated, the bones turned to spines and a delicate membrane created a web-like fluke. Her tail would have been as beautiful as the rest of her but for the two jagged scars running up from the base, and the ridged areas of damaged tissue that created the fin.
Her body swayed back and forth, and water swirled upward in an eddy.
Graham jerked at the memory of a dark, powerful fin brushing against him in the darkness, the speed at which it moved terrifying.
The creature had a predatory grace, the way it darted through the water, back and forth, kicking up a wake that caused water to splash him in the face. Darkness closed in around him, penetrated by a dull yellow light that bathed the metal ceiling above him in a sickly glow. He clung to a cushion floating on the surface of the water. The air tasted metallic and smelled like oil, and his teeth chattered with cold and fear.
He watched the flutter of a fin weaving back and forth, getting closer and closer as his terror mounted. A face so white it glowed shone from beneath the water. It surfaced in front of him, water running in rivulets down its brow and cheeks. He screamed in terror, lost his grip on the cushion, and flipped over backwards. Instinct kicked in, and he flailed his arms and legs. His lungs seized, begging for oxygen. He was forced back up into the pocket of air by a hand beneath his butt. He gasped and coughed as oily water surged down his throat.
Katrina fought against Graham’s grip on her hands. He was frozen in some kind of fugue memory state, his features blank. At any moment he would breathe in pool water and drown.
She ripped one hand loose and kicked as hard as she could to lift him to the surface.
He fought her, too trapped between the real world and the dream to realize the danger. She wrapped an arm around his chest and had no choice but to use her strength to subdue him.
They broke the surface. Graham’s chest heaved as he yelled and fought against her. Suddenly he went still and turned to look toward the shallow end of the pool. Joseph Powell stood poised to leap into the water. Beside him Drew’s father, Blake, gripped his arm.
Relieved tears blurred Katrina’s vision as she swam toward them. “They can help you. Please let them help you,” Katrina said. She towed him to the pool steps at the shallow end. The two men stepped into the water and half-dragged, half-helped Graham out of the pool.
He turned eyes dark with relief on her. His body shook as though palsied. “I remember. They saved me.”
Katrina nodded.
Blake touched her shoulder to get her attention. “Are you all right, Katrina?” The open concern on his face ripped away what little control she had over her tears. A well of grief opened up inside her. She had done the right thing, but at what cost?
“I’m sorry. He was in such pain.”
“It’s going to be all right.”
She knew it was an empty promise. She couldn’t take back Graham’s memories of her transformation. “You can’t wipe his memory again. It would destroy him. He doesn’t know about anyone else. Only me.”
Tears made it impossible for her to see his reply. She pushed away from the steps and swam to the deep end of the pool, where she settled at the bottom and curled there against the farthest wall, under the diving board.
Something dark hit the water, and with the sleek speed of a dolphin jetted toward her. Drew’s feelings, both angry and worried, reached her before he did.
In his full Siren form, his chest, shoulders, and abdomen were bulked with muscle, and the scales of his tail shimmered an unusual purplish green. More trailed up his arms from his elbows to his shoulders, creating a kind of armor. The defined angles and planes of his face lent him the aggressive masculinity distinctive to his species. He had the bearing of a warrior, both sexy and regal.
“Don’t get carried away.” His words resounded in her head. “My mother’s the only royalty in the family.”
His dry, deprecating wit brought out a weak smile.
“I’m serious. She’s a princess in her Pod.”
Katrina’s lips parted in surprise, allowing air bubbles to escape.
Drew grasped her hand and tugged her from the bottom to the surface, where she gasped in the air she needed. “Drowning yourself isn’t a solution.” He pushed her back against the side of the pool and pressed his body full against her.
She shuddered at the erotic feel of him aligning his tail to hers as she curved her arms around him.
The pale blue of his eyes expanded and began to glow. He rested his forehead against hers. “You’re not going to run and hide, either. We’re standing our ground, Katrina.”
“If it were just the two of us, I’d agree, but there are so many others.”
“My father says there’s a way.”
“They can’t tamper with his mind again, Drew.”
“No. But if he exposes you, he’ll be exposing the only parents he remembers. If he loves them at all, he won’t want to hurt them.”
“Where were they? I texted and emailed them several times.”
“They were out looking for him. Their cell phone was dead. They finally swung by here to see if he’d returned. They found the lights on, the doors open, and the two of you in the pool.”
“You called your father?”
“Yes.” He drew back and shot her a narrow-eyed look. He spoke aloud for the first time, as though his thoughts weren’t enough to express his emotion. “I was half an hour away and couldn’t get to you in time, Katrina. Do you know what hell I went through, knowing you were in trouble, and I couldn’t reach you?”
The same hell she’d experienced when she decided to take the plunge with Graham Powell and risk losing Drew. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, overwhelmed and grieving over the pain she’d caused them both.
His words flowed into her mind, comforting, joyful. “You could never lose me, Katrina. We’re bonded mates. All the doors are down between us.”
She looked at him. “Is that how you knew to come?”
“Yes.”
She spoke aloud. “I wanted you to know how much I loved you. Just in case.”
He tilted her face up to his. “I felt it from half a city away.” His lips claimed hers, and his arms locked around her, almost to the point of pain.
“I’m not going to say the words until you can hear me say them,” he said and eased back away from her.
“Does that mean—?” His feelings washed over her, cutting off her words and making her dizzy.
He urged her toward the other end of the pool. A woman stood waiting for them, towels folded over her arm. Katrina’s anxiety rose again. “Who is she?”
“It’s okay. She’s Dr. Powell’s mother. She’s been waiting there to thank you.”
Katrina brushed against Drew, deriving comfort from his nearness, feeling his love and care. Finally she allowed herself to experience the joy of it.
His ran a caressing hand ran down over her hip. His thought was a muttered growl. “And the next time we transform together, we’re definitely making love.”