Afterlight - Elle Jasper [88]
I turned at the intersection at Martin Luther King and ran up River Street, the lights and activity at the west end not nearly as heavy as at the east end, but I’d get there soon enough. I hurried up the cobbles, the old Atlantic Paper Company on my left, then past the Hyatt. I crossed over to the river walk, slowing now to a jog. I glanced over my shoulder and didn’t see any hoodies, so I began to walk, out of breath. I couldn’t help but wonder who the victim on the ground was; I’m glad I hadn’t seen his face. I knew I’d never rid my mind of Seth’s pale skin, with blood dripping off his chin; it was too horrific. I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs; I felt like hitting something—I felt sick to my stomach. I started to run again—ran hard. Very few people were out on a Sunday night at midnight—even on River Street, and I had free rein on the walk. I jumped over the short wall barrier and headed to the river. At the section across from Inksomnia, I stopped, leaned over the rail, and threw up. Never, ever would I forget what my brother had looked like, what he’d unknowingly done. I hated this. I hated all of this.
I stood there grasping the metal railing, breathing hard. The night air was stagnant, the low tide making the scent of the marsh pungent, and the shoals of oysters bubbled and popped across the river from Dafuski Island. The mosquitoes were out in armies, and I slapped my neck as they bit. Damn, I hated mosquitoes. I pushed off the rail and turned to go inside—but gasped and jerked to a halt as I stared straight into the vacant, opaque eyes of my brother.
I stood frozen in place; my eyes widened and my insides quivered as I stared at Seth. I hated being afraid of my brother, but I was. He almost looked dead, with his skin so pale and translucent, his eyes a completely different shade of green—nearly white now—and his lips a darkish blue. Dried blood streaked his chin. His nostrils flared as his gaze settled on the side of my throat, at my carotid, and I took a step back. With a sound emanating from his throat that no longer sounded human, he moved slowly toward me. Again, I froze, and he stopped. I know he didn’t recognize me, and was pretty sure he’d followed only because he’d caught sight of me. Josie and the others had said more than once Seth wouldn’t remember me or his previous life. Had she been wrong?
The air tensed around us; Seth and I were both on edge and about to lunge—I could feel it. I slowly eased back a few more steps, until my flesh grazed the rail, and my hands followed, encircling the metal in a tight grip. “Seth,” I said quietly, steadily, my eyes directly on his; hopefully he would concentrate on my face and not my hand movement. I was going to freaking jump in the river if I had to, despite the bull sharks that patrolled the waterways—another thing not mentioned in the tourist mags and brochures. I inhaled slowly, and even that slight movement was noticed by my brother. He flinched and jumped at me. “Seth!” I said, louder, and he jerked as though he’d been struck. His chest rose and fell rapidly, faster than human, and his Adam’s apple bobbed unnaturally—like he was swallowing something rapid-fire, over and over.
Then his face drew taut and his eyes widened, and in the next second, he lunged for me. In the same breath I threw my legs over the handrail, and before I could drop, Seth’s body just . . . stopped coming at me. I tightened my grasp and held on to the railing, suspended, until my hands started to sweat and my fingers grew cold and numb. Nothing happened. I had no idea whether he stood there, waiting, or . . . what? No more than thirty seconds passed, and I’d decided a swim with the bull sharks was going to be my finale for the night. Then Phin’s face appeared over the rail, and he reached down with one hand, grasped one of mine, and effortlessly hauled me back over. “Riley—what the hell are you doing?” he asked.
I looked at him, then looked around.