“That was amazing!” I exclaim. “Did you reach the bottom?”
“You tell me.” Piper holds something shiny in her hand. She wasn’t lying—the sunlight is indeed glinting off it.
“What is it?” I ask as she swims over to me and shoves it in my palm.
She shrugs, water pouring off her shoulders to rejoin the ocean. “Some kind of bracelet, obviously. But who knows. Maybe it’s an ancient cock ring.”
I almost drop it, but manage to keep my fingers wrapped around its smooth surface. The bracelet is a thick, golden cuff. It’s surprisingly heavy, which makes me think it must be pretty expensive. There are no markings on it, so it’s hard to tell how old it is. Although if it was ancient, it would probably be far more patinaed and beat up. I move to hand it back to Piper, but she shakes her head.
“Keep it,” she says. “A gift to make up for almost killing you.”
I’m not sure I want the bracelet; it’s definitely not my style, but I also don’t want to be rude and drop it back down into the depths after Piper dove to get it. I slip the bracelet over my free hand so it comes to rest on my wrist. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t.” She bares her teeth and gives me a wink that somehow manages to be threatening and sarcastic at the same time.
Piper is intimidating, but I sense she’s the kind of person who appreciates straight shooters and respects bluntness. I go for it. “What’s the actual deal with Elena? Why did that conversation earlier feel so weird?”
The expression that spreads over Piper’s face is guarded and sharp. “No idea. Maybe you imagined it.” She looks up at the sky. “Hm. Rain is coming. We better get out and get back to work.”
Piper swims up to me, her face so close I could count her eyelashes if I wanted to. Being a touch away from her feels like facing the sun. Fire escapes her skin and her eyes blaze.
I release the ladder and swim backward, letting her climb up, finally recovered enough to feel certain I’m not going to immediately drown.
Water sprinkles down on me as Piper climbs up the ladder, the rungs shaking under her weight. “Oh, by the way,” she says, glancing back at me, “you should examine theEmpressgirls’ pages. To get a sense of how we all post. It’ll help you come up with your ownstuff.” She reaches the top of the ladder, stands dripping on the platform, squeezing out her long hair. “Allthe girls. Elena’s page is worth looking at, even if she’s not here anymore—you can find her tagged in older posts on theEmpresspage.”
And then she’s gone, up the stairs that will take her to the deck, leaving me floating alone in the ocean, her words settling over me like feathers from a seagull.
Chapter 14
Piper wasn’t kidding—itdoeslook like rain. Actually, it looks like a storm. A bad one.
The sky is clear directly above my head, but gray tendrils are dangling from the bellies of dark clouds rolling across the horizon toward us.
Out of the water, I stand on the main deck, watching the approaching weather, enjoying the way the sun bakes my skin dry, soaking it up before the rain blots the rays away. I don’t have a towel, and Piper has disappeared. The cuff bracelet shines merrily on my wrist. I should grab my clothes from the deck chair, go inside and get changed, but the sun is clearly not going to hang around much longer, and as annoying as the humidity is, I want to feel the warmth for a little while longer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a small motorboat bouncing across the waves like a water strider, coming in to the island’sdock way too hot, peeling to the side at the last minute before slowing down.
The motorboat has brought the storm. It happens so suddenly, the ocean and sky transformed in mere minutes. The waves are much higher and rowdier than they were twenty minutes ago when Piper and I were in the water. The crystal-clear view of the bottom of the ocean is gone—the surface is frothy and gray. The sky dims and the wind picks up. I shiver, my skin drying too quickly as the sun is hidden behind a swell of darkness.
In the far distance, the sky is a sickly green.
There’s shouting from the island dock, voices carried by the anxious wind. Two figures, two men, are climbing from the motorboat. They appear to converse for a minute, waving their hands, gesturing at the sky, the small beach house, before hopping back into the boat and speeding towardEmpress.
I glance up. The storm. It has to be related.
Grabbing my clothes, I hastily yank them on, grimacing at the feeling of my dry shorts touching my soaking wet underwear, and race back inside the yacht.
“Rachel!” I yell, spotting her in the kitchen, rolling something that looks like a big spinach leaf in her fingers. As grateful as I am to see someone finally making food on this boat, my hunger is momentarily forgotten.
Rachel jumps at my sudden appearance. “Shit, Charlie, you ruined my take!”
It takes me a second to process the tripod that is maneuvered over the counter so that Rachel can film whatever she’s doing with the big leaf. There are spice jars scattered around her, ingredients laid out in a row.
“Something’s wrong,” I insist, ignoring her protests. “Where are the others?”
“What are you talking about?” Rachel examines my face, then glances out of the window. “Oh, yeah. Storms are scary onEmpressthe first few times. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
“No, people are here, I think something bad is going on.”
