Tempest Unleashed
Page 39

Rio had always been a pain in the butt, but he’d also been pretty much a rule follower—more so than either Moku or me. And the fact that I was now worried about him doing drugs … Part of me wanted to go back to that day eight months ago and change my decision—to hell with the consequences.
I tried to talk to Rio a few times, and he answered grudgingly. He didn’t say anything major, but still, it was a start. One I really appreciated.
I glanced at Kona. What did you say to him?
Nothing major. Kona smiled. Just guy stuff.
Ugh, seriously? I sighed hugely to let him know I wasn’t buying it. I swear, it’s times like these that remind me you really were born two hundred years ago. And that is not a compliment.
He just laughed. So temperamental. That’s why they call you Tempest, right?
Whatever.
I glanced at Rio and the smile froze on my face. The semi-relaxed look he’d worn at dinner was gone, and it was pretty easy to figure out what had caused it, even before he said, “God, you two really are freaks.” And just like that, all the progress Kona had made evaporated.
“Rio.” I tried to get him to meet my eyes, determined to have it out with him.
He was back to ignoring me.
“Rio,” I said again, this time louder.
Still no answer. He got up and threw his trash away.
“Rio!” He was going to talk to me whether he liked it or not. I started across the kitchen after him, but Kona slipped up behind me, slid his arms around my waist. It felt like an embrace, but at the same time I knew he was doing it to hold me back, calm me down.
It might even have worked had Rio not chosen that moment to turn around and stare at me, his eyes flat and dead. I watched open-mouthed as he very calmly, very deliberately, flipped me off. Then he turned the volume all the way up on his iPod before heading for the stairs.
I lunged after him, wanting to strangle him and plead with him all at the same time. Once again, it was only Kona that held me back.
“Give him time,” he murmured in my ear. “Once Moku wakes up, things will get better.”
“If Moku wakes up.” I shoved against his arms. “You can let me go now. I promise not to chase him down and pummel him.”
“Well, thank God for that.” Kona reluctantly dropped his arms. “Maybe it just makes me feel better to hold you.”
“I think you’ve got that backward.” I laid my head on his shoulder. “How did I screw everything up so badly?”
“You didn’t. Sometimes life just happens. It takes a while before everything catches up between how things are and how we want them to be.”
“Is that what this is?” I asked. “Fantasy lag? Like finding out Santa Claus isn’t real?”
He grinned, rubbed my shoulders. “Something like that. Just a little more painful, maybe.”
“A lot more painful,” I corrected.
He sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, baby. I’d fix this if I could.”
“You got Rio downstairs. That’s something.” I looked at him curiously. “How did you do that?” I asked again.
“I told him I’d kick his ass.”
“What? Kona!”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I apologized.”
“For what? You didn’t do anything.”
“I stole you away, didn’t I? And then I told him I understood how he felt.”
“And he just believed you?”
“He did after I listed a whole bunch of those feelings. Which wasn’t hard—it’s not like I haven’t been exactly where he is right now.”
“Oh. Right.” I blushed a little, ducked my head. “Is that why you’re being so good to me right now? Because you remember what it’s like to have your family so fragmented?”
“First of all, I’m taking care of you because I love you.” He paused, ran a hand through his hair. “But yes, I remember what it was like to spend days waiting, terrified that my sister was going to die, and I know what it’s like to lose a brother suddenly, when you’re least expecting it. Either way sucks.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I should have realized how hard all this is for you.”
He shrugged. “No harder than it is for your family. I miss Oliwa and Annalise. Every day I miss them, but that doesn’t mean I can blame the whole world for it.”
It was my turn to soothe him. I scooted behind him, lightly rubbed his shoulders. “I know what happened to Oliwa—”
“Yeah. You killed his murderer, who had turned traitor and sold us all out to Tiamat.” He said it like he was proud of me.
I ignored the way my stomach clenched at the mention of something I spent every day trying to forget. “Yes. But what happened to Annalise, Kona? I don’t want to pry, but …”
“But Sabyn told you he wasn’t responsible. Right?”
“I didn’t ask Sabyn. I wouldn’t do that.”
He sighed. “I know you wouldn’t.” He glanced at the clock. “Are you sure you want to do this now? You must be exhausted.”
“I’m wide awake. But if you don’t want to tell me …”
“I’m not sure. It’s really hard to talk about.”
I could imagine. Just the thought of losing Moku had me so turned around that I could barely function. I couldn’t imagine how I would feel if one day he was just gone. No wonder Kona wanted to kill Sabyn.
Blowing out a long, slow breath—like he was about to do something he’d regret—Kona crossed to the table. He sat down in one of the chairs, pulled me into his lap. Then buried his face in my hair and breathed deep. “How is it you can still smell like raspberries, even after months under the sea?”
I melted a little, but didn’t answer him. Every day that passed, Annalise’s death—and Sabyn’s part in it—seemed to loom a little larger between us. I wanted it out in the open and this seemed to be the time for it, especially now that everything in my own life was so precariously balanced. Still, I’d pushed far enough. It was up to him.
Kona seemed to understand, because he passed a hand over his face, then began to talk. Slowly, haltingly. “Annalise was my favorite. To be honest, she was everybody’s favorite. My mom’s, my dad’s, all of ours, really. She was just … good, you know? Just deep down sweet and innocent and good, which is sometimes hard to find in the ocean, as I’m sure you’re figuring out. No hidden agendas, no nefarious plans, no ulterior motives. She was just sweet because that’s who she was.
“Anyway, she fell for Sabyn when she was young—really young. She was born seventy-five years after me, so the age difference between my friends and her, back then especially, was huge. Not that any of that mattered to her. She tried to follow us everywhere—sometimes we would allow it because she was just so damn cute, but other times we’d send her back, if it was too dangerous. She didn’t have much power, but then she didn’t need it. We were all willing to switch off taking care of her, keeping her safe.
“I think Sabyn was flattered by her attention, at least at first. He didn’t take her seriously—none of us did. She was just a baby.”