I looked down at the table and took a deep breath. He was right, of course, and I’d already known it. Still, as I nodded, I couldn’t help the hopelessness that came over me, and the certainty of coming doom.
* * *
The bad feelings followed me into my session with Deverell. I struggled to concentrate, my desire to succeed in direct opposition to my ability to do so. Several times Mr. Deverell admonished me to relax and focus, insisting that I was proving to be my biggest obstacle. I tried to do what he said, I really did. But when the session ended, two hours later, I’d only managed to uncover one letter. Just one. So close and yet still impossibly far away.
B E L L A N A
The name meant nothing to me. Nothing at all.
Except failure.
As I walked away from Mr. Deverell’s classroom, my cell phone felt like an iron weight in my pocket. I pulled it out, and for the first time in months, I dialed Paul’s number.
He answered on the first ring.
“Can you meet me?”
“Sure. Anywhere.”
I thought about it for a couple of seconds, trying to decide on the place. Somewhere outside and public would be best, I knew, and yet I wanted to talk to him alone. To my surprise, the idea didn’t frighten me. Somehow these last few days, I’d gotten accustomed to being around him.
“How about … our alcove?” I knew he would understand which one I was talking about, the one hidden deep in the tunnels and where we’d shared our last kiss.
I heard Paul draw a breath, as shocked by the location as I’d been to name it, but he recovered quickly. “All right. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
As I walked along the dark tunnel leading to the alcove, I tried not to think about my motives. Everything with Paul was too confused to try and figure it out. With the soft, soothing sound of the canal water echoing off the wet walls, it was surprisingly easy not to think. I kept my gaze partly fixed on the water, drawing some small comfort from its motion. Several times I saw the telltale swirl as a naiad swam by, and once I even caught the colorful flash of a merkind fin. It occurred to me how strange my life was, and yet how wonderful, too, in the quiet, peaceful moments like this.
But when I rounded the corner into the alcove and found Paul waiting for me, the quiet vanished in an instant. Paul didn’t smile when he spotted me, but his eyes lit up in that special way of his I remembered so well—the kind of way that made me feel welcome and wanted. Needed.
I pushed down the surge of bittersweet memory and approached him.
“Hey,” he said. “Do you want to sit?” He motioned to the edge of the small pool where we’d once dangled our feet together.
I shook my head. “What I have to say won’t take that long.”
“Oh.” Paul lowered his gaze, looking diminished. “What is it?”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Maybe I should’ve sat down. Did bad news go over better that way? People in movies always seemed to think so, but I doubted it would matter much. “I’m sorry, Paul, but it looks like we’re not going to find proof about your uncle in time to stop whatever he’s got planned tomorrow.”
“Nothing panned out with Corvus?”
“Not yet.” I exhaled, mustering my courage. “But you see, the thing is…”
Paul raised his hand, stopping me. “It’s okay, Dusty. I understand.”
I blinked, surprised by his certainty. “You do?”
“Sure.” A crooked smile crossed his face. “You and Eli and Selene have no choice but to go to the sheriff with what you do know.”
“Yes … that’s … that’s right.”
Paul smirked. “Don’t sound so surprised. I know you find this hard to believe but I can sometimes recognize the right thing to do. Hell, I can even do it occasionally.” He flashed that crooked smile again. “Shocking, I know.”
I could tell he was joking, but it fell flat. “It’s not that I think you don’t know the difference between right and wrong. I just think you have a tendency to choose badly. A lot.”
“I suppose that’s a fair statement.” He bent over and picked up a couple of pebbles. Then he straightened and started tossing them one by one into the pool. “It didn’t used to be that way, you know. All my life I chose good even when my uncle was beat”—he paused, catching himself—“even when things were hard. But then Marrow came along and changed everything.”
His voice sounded strange, full of contradictory emotions, both sadness and relief, love and hate.
“Do you regret it?” I asked, surprising myself by the question.
Paul looked up, his eyes bright. He held me with his gaze. “Yes. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could take it back. Especially Rosemary. I dream about her all the time … nightmares that you can’t even imagine.” He shuddered, at last dropping his gaze. He tossed another stone.
I didn’t say anything, still torn between belief and doubt. But then Paul dropped the last pebble into the pool and crossed the small distance between us. He placed his hands on my arms, his touch so light he might’ve been made of air instead of flesh.
“And I regret what I did to you. More than anything,” he spoke in a whisper, and his voice moved through me as if my skin were permeable. “I’m sorry, Dusty. And I’ll do whatever you want to make things right. So go to Brackenberry. Tell him everything you think you should.”