“Better now that you’re here,” Pearl said, laughing a little at her own joke. “What can I get for you two today?”
Daniel looked to Harper, waiting for her to order first. Pearl’s didn’t have menus. She had a few specials written on a chalkboard hanging behind the counter, but with everything else, customers were just supposed to know what was served. It helped keep locals in and tourists out.
“Um, just a Cherry Coke and a cheeseburger,” Harper said.
“I’ll have the same,” Daniel said.
“Coming right up.” Pearl winked at them both before walking back to the counter.
“So.” Daniel leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You’re not ignoring Alex’s calls, then?”
“That’s different.” Harper shook her head and stared out the window at the traffic passing slowly by.
“How is it different?” Daniel asked.
She groaned and rubbed the back of her neck. “You know how it’s different.”
“No, I don’t. I can help you. I want to help you.”
“But…” She sighed. “It’s complicated with me and you.”
Daniel laughed a little. “No, it’s really not. You’ve made it perfectly clear what you’re open for right now. I get it. You don’t have time for anything more than friendship. But Harper, I’m not offering anything more than that.”
She bit her lip and tentatively looked up at him. Hearing him say that actually stung a bit, and she was surprised. All this time she’d been saying she didn’t want to get involved with him, and it hadn’t really occurred to her that he might not want to get involved with her.
“Your sister ran off with some weird-ass bird-monsters,” Daniel said. “Can you really afford to turn away somebody that wants to help you get her back? Especially someone that doesn’t think you’re insane for believing in weird-ass bird-monsters?”
“No,” Harper admitted, smirking a little at his description of the sirens.
“Good.” He smiled wider at that and relaxed more in the seat. “So, what’s your plan for finding Gemma?”
“I don’t have one.”
“That’s okay,” Daniel assured her. “We’ll come up with one.”
EIGHT
Ungrateful
Gemma woke up while it was still dark out, and she barely made it to the bathroom in time. She leaned over the porcelain bowl, retching up what little contents she had in her stomach. It was Friday, and the last time she’d eaten anything had been days ago.
Once she’d finished throwing up, Gemma leaned back against the tiles of the bathroom wall and tried to catch her breath. Her mind swirled, dizzy and aching from the watersong.
Her skin felt too tight. Sweat clung to her flesh, drying sticky and making it feel as if she were shrink-wrapped.
A shower seemed like the best solution. It wouldn’t completely erase the way she felt, but it might ease her sickness a bit.
Outside, the sky was starting to lighten, and dim blue light spilled in through the bathroom window. Gemma decided to leave the light off, preferring the semidarkness. That would probably upset her migraine the least.
When she turned on the faucet, she kept it cool, even though she still had the chills. The cold sweat left her shivering. But she thought a cold shower might clear her head.
Standing under the spray, she found it hard not to sing. She hadn’t sung since she’d accidentally called to Alex back at her house in Capri, and she’d nearly hurt him. Even worse, it had left him more susceptible to the other sirens.
So though the lyrics played on her tongue until she had to bite her lip to keep them from escaping, Gemma didn’t sing. She was too afraid of accidentally luring another guy into this mess.
If Sawyer weren’t living here with them, she might have been tempted to try a soft lullaby or humming to herself. But it was bad enough that Penn and Lexi had him wrapped around their fingers. Gemma didn’t want to control him, too.
At least the shower was helping. Her body craved water the way plants craved sunlight. The tap water wasn’t exactly right, partially because of all the chemicals used to treat it, but mostly because it wasn’t salt water from the ocean.
Normally, when her skin got wet, she’d feel this fluttering sensation in her legs as they tried to transform into a tail. It wouldn’t work, not fully, because only the ocean induced the transition.
This time, she felt nothing. It was as if her body didn’t even have the strength to attempt to change. But her headache had abated, and that was all she really hoped for.
Gemma moved on to washing her hair, and she caught herself humming despite her attempts not to. The sound of the running water would probably drown it out, though, so she decided to go with it.
As she was washing her hair, something tangled in her fingers. She pulled her hand out to inspect it in the ever-brightening morning light. It was a whole clump of her own hair, and Gemma yelped in shock.
She reached up and pulled at her hair. Without her even really trying, another chunk of hair came out.
While she’d never considered herself particularly vain, the sight of her hair falling out was a terrible shock. It wasn’t about the way she would look so much as that she associated hair loss with people dying, like cancer patients.
The shower curtain flew open, and Gemma hurried to cover herself with her arms so she wasn’t standing there so exposed.
Penn stood on the other side of the tub, glaring at Gemma in the way only Penn could glare. It was like her black eyes sliced right through Gemma.