“You will be reborn Quinn.” Her voice echoed through my head, and a deep chanting began around us. Pain erupted throughout my body from out of nowhere, pulsing in time with the beat of the chanting. It was as if the very earth and trees picked up on the rhythm of pain that rippled through me; each word spoken caused my blood to pulse, filling me with agony. The points where Grandpa’s hands and fingers had bit into me were filled with an intense heat that increased the longer it went on. I fell to the ground, my hands wrapping around my neck trying to stop the burn.
“You will become what your destiny calls you to become.” A new pain started low in my belly, not fire like around my neck, but sharp slices, as if I was being skewered on my own knife. Over and over again the phantom knife ripped into me, and finally I began to scream. A hand clamped over my lips and I tasted the ocean on his skin. It was with very little thought that I bit down, tasting blood. But it wasn’t the coppery tang that I was expecting. Rich and vibrant, it reminded me of the voice on the phone, the surfing instructor of all things.
“You will be a warrior,” the snake said.
The chanting around us picked up speed, and with it the beating of my heart and the rush of my blood through my veins. Sweat poured down my face as I huddled on the ground, and curled around myself. It felt as if each organ within me was being pulled out, re-arranged, slammed back inside me and then, for good measure, had hot acid poured over them. Someone was there, hands holding mine, one slick with blood where I’d bitten him. I blinked but could see nothing past the haze of pain and fire that filled my vision.
“Hang on Quinn, it’s almost over.” A voice—his voice. Damn, it was the surf instructor. A hand brushed a stray curl from my forehead.
“You will be a leader.” The snake’s voice rippled through me.
The screams began again. They were shrill, shrieking screams, that of a dying and wounded animal that hadn’t yet given up. But even they faded into moans as my voice and lungs gave out.
“You will save your world and ours.”
Tears streamed down my face as the chanting around us began to slow, the crippling, mind numbing pain receding into nothing but a dull ache that spread through my limbs and torso. I lay on the ground, a hand stroking my hair, until that faded into something far rougher.
Hands were shaking me, and Ashling was suddenly there, tears streaming down her face, matching mine as I came to. The morning light had barely started to filter in through the window; our alarm hadn’t yet gone off.
“What happened?” I croaked out.
“You were screaming, I couldn’t get you to wake up,” she said, then hiccupped back a sob. This trip seemed doomed to be a disaster from the beginning. I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder; she fell against me. “That was the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life,” she said, her words muffled against my shoulder. “It was like you were being pulled apart.”
Her words sent waves of remembered pain through me. I bit my lower lip to keep from crying out, the memory fading already. “I think I’m going to get up now,” I said. The alarm went off and we both jumped. I slammed a hand down on it. Yes, this was looking to be a day we would never forget.
I stood and wobbled my way to the bathroom, my unruly blond curls covering half my face as I stared in the mirror. A gasp escaped my lips. Ashling ran over to me. “What is it?”
I lifted a hand to my neck where just a few short hours ago I had been battered and bruised. Now the skin was smooth and unblemished, as if it had never happened.
Ashling brushed the hair off the back of my neck. “The bruises are all gone here too,” she whispered. I took a deep breath, held it and then slowly let it out. Nope, I was not going to freak out. I managed a smile. “Lucky I heal quick I guess.”
I turned and hurried back to my luggage, feeling Ashling’s eyes boring into my back.
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess.”
4
The cool, wet sand slid through my toes as I scrunched them up. A rolling wave splashed around my ankles. The wetsuit I was wearing only came to mid-calf and was hardly a protection against the cold water. Chesterman Beach was beautiful, everything the package had promoted it to be and then some. I hoped that Ashling appreciated what it took for me to be here—to face my fears for her. She didn’t seem any worse for the wear after our short—and my nightmare-filled—night. I, on the other hand, found myself stifling yawns and daydreaming of sleeping the afternoon away.
I fingered the sheath on my upper thigh, which held the knife Grandpa had given me right before he went into the institution. I’d wondered at the gift at the time; he’d really never bothered with me before. But when I’d told him that I was going diving he’d been frantic for me to have the knife.
“Here, here. Take it,” he’d said, nearly slicing me in his eagerness to give me it. The knife had a bone handle its blade about eight inches long with intricate engravings swirling down the back of the razor sharp edge.
“Always take it with you when you go in the water. Promise me. That’s when the monsters come,” Grandpa had said.
I’d taken the knife and given him my promise. It was always the same with him. The monsters he saw, he feared they would come for the rest of us. So even if I wasn’t his favourite, it was better—according to him—that I survive and the monsters die. Yup, he did say that to my face. I shook my head, scattering the thoughts.
I hated to admit it, but I took comfort in the knife and did indeed take it with me diving. It had saved me once already. I grit my teeth as memories rushed through my mind and threatened to suck me into a panic attack. Using slow even breaths I managed to get my heart rate to a normal level. Okay, almost normal. Those memories needed to stay in the past, where they belonged. If only it was that easy.
Though this was what Ashling wanted, it was not my idea of a good time. Surfing on the west coast of Vancouver Island was even less of a good idea, at least to me. The water was cold, even through the heat of the summer, and it was known for its riptides and jagged rocks as much as its surfing. And yet, here we were. I shook my head, curls catching in the wind, and tangling into knots I knew would be a pain to get out later.
“Come on, Quinn, that water is great and the waves are bitch’n!” Ashling yelled. I stared at her out in the water, sitting on her surf board, unruly strawberry blond curls escaping her ponytail and dancing in the wind. She hadn’t even put on the surfboard leash, cocky little thing that she was.
I waved at her and forced a smile to my lips. I wouldn’t ruin this day for her; this was her moment, her celebration.
“I hate this,” I muttered under my breath.
“Then why are you here?” A strong male voice asked me. It was our instructor, Luke. Damn, the voice I’d heard on the phone more than matched the guy it was attached to. Rich and sensual.
I had a hard time looking at him. Drop dead gorgeous wouldn’t even begin to describe the man in front of me. Not too tall, maybe 5’10, with blond hair that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight and blue eyes that I couldn’t look away from. I swallowed hard and stared at the sand at my feet. He was far too pretty, far too dangerous, with his silky voice that made me forget my own name. Ashling had been—to say the least—delighted when she saw him and realized he was our surfing instructor. Flirting and prancing in her little red bikini, she’d been determined to get his attention. But while he was kind to her, he didn’t fall into her arms as she’d been obviously hoping. Secretly, I was laughing. She was so pretty, petite and feminine, she wasn’t used to men turning her down.
I fingered the cuffs on my wetsuit, anxiety starting to build. “I promised her we could do anything she wanted for her graduation gift.”
We were the only ones here on this part of the beach, the early morning enough to scare many of the tourists away as well as the die-hard locals, by the looks of it. From what the brochure had said, usually the beach was flooded, despite the cooler water and the mist that wouldn’t burn off till afternoon. In the distance I could see a few surfers riding the waves, black specks on the water.
“You must care for her a great deal,” Luke said. He sounded surprised.
I frowned at him. “She’s my baby sister; of course I care about her.”
“I’d hoped that wasn’t the case,” he said, his voice soft. My frown deepened and a thrill of alarm started at the base of my spine.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked, frowning at him. He didn’t have a chance to answer me.
“Quinn!” Ashling’s call was sharp and far too high pitched. Not her usual light, airy tones. I spun to see her in the water with only her head above the waves as she gripped the surf board. Even from this distance, her pale green eyes were wide and full of fear. I didn’t hesitate—though my body quailed with remembered fear and pain, I didn’t think about anything except getting her out of the water.
I took one step and arms encircled me, holding me tight and stopping me from diving into the surf. “She’ll be fine. Let her be.”
“Let me go!” I yelled, jerking my body left and right, trying to free myself. Luke’s grip only tightened; his arms were like vices around my middle. Damn he was strong.
“Quinn!” Ashling’s voice went up another octave and I stared in horror as her head bobbed down on the last bit of my name, her voice turning into a gurgle. Something large and black, skin shiny with slime, breached in the water next to her then slid back under the waves. My heart constricted with fear, my body thundered with adrenaline. It had to be a killer whale, even though I didn’t see a fin. That was the only thing out here that could be attacking her. We didn’t have sharks on the west coast. At least, not that I knew of. God, I hoped not. I couldn’t face that again.
Luke held me tight. “Quinn, please believe me, you can’t go in the water.” His voice caressed my skin, his words reverberating inside my skull until I believed them. I relaxed into his arms, my head leaning back into his chest as a wave of fatigue swept over me. I slumped as my blood slowed and the fear left me. Luke was right, I couldn’t go in the water. Ashling would be okay. She was a strong swimmer and this, his arms around me, felt so nice. Maybe she was just playing with me again. Like humming the theme to Jaws. He turned me to face him, putting my back to the ocean and the distant cries of the gulls. His hand came up and stroked my face; he brushed an errant curl back, and tucked it behind my ear.