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A shiver runs up my back. And it’s not just from East’s soft kisses. I felt something when she looked into my eyes, as she held my hand, when our rings glowed. And while they aren’t the same, the rings are both ancient. Something from a different time.
She is my sister.
“Don’t you want a family?” Cal asks.
I frown. “I already have a family. You guys.”
“But what if there was more?” Cal asks. “Wouldn’t that be even better?” Just then River and West return with wood, and River comes to the kitchen, greeting me with a kiss.
“They shouldn’t be here,” I say coolly. “They are going to get hurt. Malik is going to come here and try to kill us for what I did today. And she’s pregnant. She should leave.”
“You’re pregnant too,” East says.
“Still, I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”
Harlow and her men walk over to us as I say the last part and I clench my jaw, tight, already knowing I’ve said too much.
“More blood?” Harlow asks, not missing a beat. “Why do you have blood on your hands to start with?”
21
Remedy
I pour dressing on the salad I’ve assembled, dodging the question. “I wasn’t… I don’t… It’s not like––”
Harlow cuts me off. “You can tell me. We’re family, Remedy. And some sort of twins, at that.”
I shrug. “Look at us. We’re not twins.” I’m backing away from her, hard as I can. It’s scary, finally finding the thing you’ve always wanted. Family.
“But we have the same birthday. And the same rings. And my father told me I had sisters—sisters who don’t know their mother.” That gets me to shut up, but still, I don’t answer. “And you don’t know yours—don’t fight this, it’s fate.”
“Fate that we found one another?”
“Exactly. The storm led me here, to you. And more than that, West and River are related. It was meant to be. So, what I’m trying to say is, you’re safe to tell me the secret.”
“What secret?” I ask, flabbergasted with her assumptions.
“About the blood on your hands.”
I roll my eyes as the timer to the oven goes off. I spin, pulling open the door and reaching for the pan. But I miscalculate my grip on the potholder, and my fingers press against the burning tray of lasagna.
“Mother-effer,” I groan, my hand seared and the lasagna falls to the ground. As I moan about the burn, a force from within me pushes outward from my fingertips. The oven door slams shut, and everyone jumps back, scared of getting hurt. The oven itself seems to short circuit and smoke begins to billow from it.
“Holy shit,” Crew says, pushing open the back door so the smoke can dissipate. Cal flips on the exhaust hood, but whatever I did to the oven seems to have affected the fan.
The pan of lasagna was somehow saved, and I use the potholder to lift it off the floor, setting it on the island.
“Okay, so what was that all about?” Harlow asks.
I smirk, “Well, according to you, that’s the power that I seemed to have inherited from our father.”
She shakes her head though. “That doesn’t make sense. Our father is Poseidon, God of the sea. Not whatever that was.”
“I’m not even going to comment on the whole God thing because it’s too insane. But I have no clue about what keeps happening. Apparently because of me? I’m either making an earthquake or a starting a fire or ….”
“Or what?” she says.
I shake my head. “If I say it, I’ll lose all of this.”
“Not true,” East tells me. “We’re here, for good or bad, in sickness or in health.”
I raise my eyebrows, somehow smiling in the midst of this fucked-up situation. “Are those wedding vows? Because I know we’re moving fast—but that’s a whole different level.”
“Fine,” River says. “Delay the inevitable. But the point is, we’re here.”
“And so am I,” Harlow says.
“You literally have no proof we are family. And you’re claiming to be a demi-god or something. This is all out of a Percy Jackson novel.”
“Or, it could just be the story your life,” she tells me.
“Well, if I’m the daughter of a Greek god, it wouldn’t be Poseidon,” I laugh. “Is there a Greek god famous for screwing stuff up… or being a hothead?”
“Why do you say that?” Harlow asks.
“Because I’m angry all the time. A textbook example of a girl with abandonment issues. For as long as I can remember I’ve fought back. Is that the same as you, because, no judgment, but from the looks of it, we aren’t the same.”
She looks down at herself, puzzled. “I’m not angry. I’ve always felt alone, but that’s not the same. I’ve always, ever since I was little, been drawn to the ocean. Could hold my breath and swim for hours. Can you?”
I shake my head. “I can hardly doggy paddle.”
