We thought he had the flu or something.” She pauses, her eyes shifting and becoming shadowed. “But then we found out about the memory loss.”
“The what?” I say in a shocked whisper. This is beyond bad. There’s no awful human-brain condition I’ve learned about that doesn’t start with some kind of degenerative memory loss—Alzheimer’s. Huntington’s. Dementia.
“After he collapsed on the beach a week ago, he had no memory of how he’d gotten there. I thought it was just a concussion from surfing or something, you know, so I didn’t think much of it.” She stops, watching me carefully. “We can talk tomorrow if that’s better.”
“No,” I say. “Please, Jenna. I want to talk now.”
Jenna takes my slack-fingered hand into hers and squeezes reassuringly. The light touch makes me want to snatch my hand away, because I know whatever she’s on the verge of saying is going to be bad. I take a deep breath. “Lo asked Sawyer about his mother. About Ehmora.”
“What do you mean? As in what exactly?”
“He asked him whether he’s seen her around lately.”
I can’t help it. My jaw drops open. Ehmora is dead. Lo killed her three months ago. “What did Sawyer say?”
“He asked him why, and then Lo told him that she’d gone on some business trip and he hadn’t seen her since. It was weird, Sawyer said, like totally out of the blue. Then he dropped the subject and they started talking about surfing as if he’d never even brought it up in the first place.”
“Sawyer doesn’t know about Ehmora, does he, Jenna?” I ask. Jenna would never give away what we are, not even to her boyfriend of three years, but I have to ask, anyway.
“Of course not. He just told me about it, and that’s when things started to click into place. I did some research on his symptoms—dehydration, disorientation, unconsciousness and memory loss—but none of the existing diseases seem to match them. And it’s not like we can take him to a hospital. They’d drag him to an underground, classified bunker in the blink of an eye.”
“That was quick thinking, by the way,” I say, remembering that she somehow convinced the paramedics that Lo didn’t need to be admitted. “The thing with the diabetic stuff.”
“It’s amazing they even believed me,” Jenna says. “It sounded so outlandish when I said it, but Lo was awake and nodding, so maybe they believed him.”
“It was a glimmer,” I murmur softly, nodding. It’s something small, but Lo using a glimmer gives me hope, because at least he still knows what he is. And because he’s a hybrid, holding on to his human form is far easier for him than it is us, so there’s no immediate risk of exposure. I suppress a small sigh of relief.
“A what?”
“Something that we can do,” I say. “Remember when you asked me about mind control last spring?” Jenna’s blue eyes almost bug out of her head, but she’s known my secret long enough to know that I’d never use it to hurt her. “We can...suggest things to people. Not Speio or Soren so much, but me. And now Lo.”
“Because he’s with you, a queen?”
“Yes, and because he’s the son of a queen.”
“Oh.”
I study Jenna, surprised by how much I missed her in three months. She’s become far more than just a best friend. She’s family. And because I trusted her with our secret, she’s now a part of us.
“You cut your hair,” I say, only just noticing the layered strands resting on her shoulders and the new sheared fringe across her brow.
“The bangs were a bad idea.” She brushes them back with one hand. “But at least it’ll grow. It was way shorter than this at first. I looked like one of those weird dolls with the button eyes. I must have been having separation issues when you left, because I literally chopped it off one afternoon.”
“It looks good.”
“It looks like crap, but thanks for the vote of support,” she says with a smile. “You look the same.”
“I mimic, remember? I can make myself have a short, spiky Mohawk if I want to,” I say, shrugging. “Figured I look like this already, why change? Don’t traumatize the humans any more than I have to and all that.”
“That’d be interesting. Maybe I should have done that.” She flips her hair self-consciously. “Sawyer hates it.”
I roll my eyes. “That boy would be in love with you if you were bald, so don’t even try to tell me that. I’ve never seen anyone so crazy about anybody else, ever.”
“I have,” Jenna says, and then bites her lip, her face flushing as the brief lightheartedness between us disappears in an instant. She clears her throat and grabs my hand. “Lo was a mess this whole summer, you know. Without you. Every time I saw him, I could tell what being apart from you was doing to him. Cara tried to move in, and he shut that down so quickly I think she’s still recovering from the shock.”
“Don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”
“Why did you tell him to stay, Riss? It’s obvious that you two are meant to be together, even outside all of your bondage stuff.”
“Bond-ing.”
“Whatever. He loves you. You love him. I don’t understand why you did what you did. And frankly, maybe he’s sick because he has a broken heart.”
“Seriously?” If the situation weren’t so not funny, I would have laughed. “You sound like Sawyer. Humans don’t get sick and die over a broken heart. That’s ridiculous. They die from diseases.”
“It was Sawyer’s idea,” Jenna admits. “And there are plenty of cases throughout history where people have gotten ill from the stress of emotional trauma. There’s even an official condition called stress cardiomyopathy, caused by a temporary weakness of the heart from intense emotional issues.”
“Easy on the big words.”
“Let me make it simple for you. It’s like your girlfriend telling you that she doesn’t want to be with you even though she loves you but isn’t quite sure how you’re going to fit in her future and whether you have a place there. How’s that?”
“Ouch. Harsh,” I say, and pause, cringing. “And I didn’t say that. I told him we needed space to figure things out.”
“Same diff.”
“So, even if it were true, are you saying this is my fault?” I’ve already thought it myself, but hearing another person say it out loud is something else entirely.
Jenna takes a deep breath. “Riss, I’m your best friend, and you know we’ve always told each other the truth even when it hurts. I’m telling you now. You made a mistake telling him to stay here. And maybe it’s the human side of him that’s making him sick, but we humans are more fragile than you could ever imagine. Our emotional responses can have catastrophic effects on our physical health. When Sawyer and I broke up sophomore year, I got really sick, remember? For some inexplicable reason, my immune system decided to go on vacation. I have no proof, but the brain/body connection is a powerful thing. Don’t underestimate it.” I try to stand, but she grasps my shoulders, forcing me to remain where I’m sitting beside her on the bed. Her eyes are clear and compassionate, as if she can see the guilt consuming me in waves. “I’m not judging you or blaming you. I’m just glad you’re here now, that’s all.”
In truth, Jenna’s words are like whips, but they’re whips that I’ve already flayed myself with a dozen times over. I know I shouldn’t have made him stay here, but I thought it was the right thing to do...to give him the space to figure out who he was in relation to me and vice versa. Only maybe in teenage hindsight, it was a stupid decision—and according to Sawyer and Jenna, I’d only succeeded in breaking his heart.