I let my gaze follow the gentle curve of the beach until it reached the distance point. No lighthouse, no buildings of any kind, no indication of movement or life. Nothing to say where we were.
Maybe we were both dead. Maybe this was nothing more than the dream of waiting that came before the soul moved on to the next life.
I glanced down at Egan. I knew if I rolled him off his stomach, I’d see the bloody stain in the sand. See what remained of his chest after those bastards shot him.
I closed my eyes and pushed the resulting images away. There were some things I didn’t want to remember, and the way he’d struggled to survive and remain free was one of them.
And yet, while he might have fought them to the very end, he’d done it for my sake. He’d once said that for all intents and purposes, he was a dead man, so why did anything matter? I didn’t understand it at the time he’d said it, and now I never would get the chance to do so.
The hum in the air intensified. Energy danced across my skin, a crazy tingling that warmed the chill from my soul. I studied the horizon, waiting, as the hum of power crescendoed and slivers of red and gold suddenly broke across the sky. Warmth began to flood through my body, as if the rising of the dawn was also a rebirth of my emotional and sensory centers. A stupid thought, really, when I was just at home in deep, dark waters that had never seen the sun, never known warmth. . . .
God, it was so damn frustrating getting little snippets and hints here and there but never any real, definitive answers or memories.
I drew my knees close again, ignoring the slivers of pain and the blood that began to trickle down one leg, watching as the sunlight spread, smothering the stars and warming the night from the sky.
Watching as the growing light gradually flushed across Egan’s unmoving body.
The warmth still radiating under his skin seemed to stir as the daylight caressed him, growing brighter as the day did, until the intensity made my eyes water and forced me to look away.
Still the heat and the brightness grew, until my own skin glowed under its radiance. But flesh was not designed to contain such heated iridescence for long, especially when that skin no longer belonged to a living, breathing soul. As the light broke free, reaching skyward with exuberant fingers, tears began to trickle down my cheeks.
“May the Gods of sun and sky and air guide you on your journey, my friend,” I whispered,
my voice croaky, hinting at long disuse. “And may you find in the next life what you could not in this.”
Then the radiance caressing my skin began to die, taking with it the underlying hum of energy. Day had broken. It was only those in-between times—first light or twilight—that held the moments of great power.
There was nothing left of Egan. Nothing except the stain of blood on the sand and an odd glint of silver. His ring.
I reached out and carefully plucked it free from its resting place. In the growing sunlight, the rubies shimmering in the coiled serpent’s eyes glowed like fire. It had always sent a shiver down my spine, this ring, despite the obvious workmanship and beauty.
When I’d asked him about it, Egan’s golden eyes had grown somber. “It belongs to a man who once took something very precious from me,” he’d said, and in his normally calm tones there’d been an undercurrent that was an odd mix of anger and heartache. “So I took something very precious from him.” And then he’d given me a cold, hard smile and added, “But I will return it. When the time is right.”
I closed my fingers around the serpent, pressing the cold metal into my palm. I might not be able to do anything else for Egan, but I could do this. Find the ring’s owner and return it. And perhaps along the way discover its history and the reasons why Egan had murder on his mind.
Because it was an odd desire for a man who claimed nothing mattered anymore.
I pushed upright. A dozen different aches came to life, and weakness trembled through my limbs, the sort of weakness that came from long hours of constant activity. My gaze went to the ocean, leaping across the waves to the distant horizon.
Somewhere out there lay the answers.
Somewhere out there lay my home.
But until the fog encasing my memories cleared, I could not blindly walk out into the sea and just start swimming. The ocean was a vast and often angry being, and I could not tempt her waters without a destination in mind.
It was a thought that raised my eyebrows. I might not be dead, but madness was surely a possibility. I mean, what sane, rational mind contemplated swimming oceans?
I did.
Because I could. Because I had.
I rubbed my forehead wearily, aware for the first time of the slight ache behind my eyes. Maybe when it went, my memories would fully return. Maybe then I’d know what sort of creature contemplated swimming the oceans as easily as a bird might fly.
Because whatever I was, it wasn’t human. That was a belief I felt deep in my bones, deep in my soul.
But until memory resurfaced, one thing was certain. I couldn’t stand here naked and exposed on a beach. The mere fact that someone had blown a hole through Egan’s chest suggested that someone would rather see us dead than free. And that, in turn, meant they’d surely be looking for me.
I turned around. Rugged cliffs ranged high above the pristine sands, lining and isolating the long sweep of beach. There were trails—paths made by the passage of feet over time, meaning this place, wherever it was, was at least reachable. Which meant there surely had to be some sort of city or town or at least a dwelling nearby.