Page 40 of Crashing Tides

“Can you do anything else?”

“You know I can’t.” I think bitterly of my phone, lost to the sea. A small sacrifice, all things considered, but my heart clenches. Most of my stuff is backed up, but I worry about some of my photos of Mom, hell, even some of Jeremy that I’m just not ready to let go of yet.

And then there’s another problem. If I conjure a light, he’s gonna see the shirt tied around my waist. The one that barely covers my junk.

Look, I have an excellent body (by human standards) and I know it. But there’s something uniquely humiliating about being caught outside like this, and I’ve been hoping against hope that I won’t have to explain myself to anyone.

Even Duncan, who jumped into the water after me and is the most likely of anyone to understand my plight.

“It’s OK,” he says. “I’m sure we’ll be there soon.”

But I can tell he’s disappointed, and I don’t like that. It’s a visceral response to something that shouldn’t matter so much. I can’t help it.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Pinky swear,” he says, so earnestly that my chest aches.

I reach my hand in front of me, close my eyes, and conjure the most restrained flame I’ve ever managed.

In Elarion’s class, I’m like a walking inferno. I am so, so bad about turning into a human torch. Fire is easy to conjure. Worse, I can’t feel it, so it ends up crawling all over me.

But today, the flame cupped in my hands is tiny. Blue. I focus really hard and turn it into a sphere. There. Now it’s less likely to get out of control (at least, according to Elarion, who is probably sick of me singeing his classroom every week).

“Better?”

“Thanks.”

For a full thirty seconds, I think maybe I’m going to get out of this without Duncan noticing anything. Then something crunches underfoot. I wince, but it’s too late. He looks down and his mouth drops. “Is that a loincloth?”

I let out a squawk that would shame a seagull and say, “It’s—It’s efficient, OK? I’m not gonna get arrested for indecent exposure!”

Duncan cackles. “I don’t know about that, man.”

“Hey, fuck you,” I manage. I am tempted to let the flame swallow me up. Would, if it could get me out of this.

He gestures between us, then to the single coat. “I guess we’re going to jail for indecent exposure either way, huh?”

“I didn’t mean it literally,” I grumble. I am not going to jail. If anything, I will jump straight back into the sea and swim away, sharks be damned. I am not cut out for jail.

“We’ll be fine,” says Duncan hurriedly, like he’s just realized this isn’t a joke to me. “Look, once we tell them we fell off a cliff and there was an emergency, it won’t be a problem.”

“Spoken like someone with money.”

Duncan lapses into sullen silence.

I thought we’d never reach the road, but soon enough, there’s asphalt beneath my feet and bright lights overhead. Atop a faraway cliff, the lights from the university flicker. The town lies somewhere between us, twinkling lights nestled into thickly forested, rolling hills.

It would take forever to hike back to Halea. As badly as I don’t want to deal with police or hospitals, I know I don’t really have a choice. I have no idea what time it is, but I can tell from the total lack of traffic that it’s probably after midnight.

Duncan won’t stop shivering. Even if I’m proud enough to drag myself to campus, I can’t do this to him. We need help.

I walk along the double yellow line so I’m impossible to miss. Duncan practically clings to me. I’d feel better if he stayed on the side of the road, but I already know he won’t listen.

Besides, it’s my fault he’s in this predicament. If he needs body heat, then I can offer some. I try not to think too hard about why I like that, why some part of me is quietly thrilled to be of service.

We trudge along in silence, accompanied by wind, rain, and roaring waves. I am so overcome by guilt that I could drown in it. Is Duncan going to be OK? He’s slow and unsteady. In the dim light, I spot a bloody gash on his neck. The bleeding is sluggish, but it’s an ugly cut.

I chew my lip. That’s probably my fault. I was so worried about tentacles that I didn’t stop to consider the possibility of razor talons. I want to apologize, but the words get stuck in my throat.