“But look at what happened to you because of him,” he says scornfully. “You chose to become a Bringer, of all things, because of him.” And the disdain in his voice shocks me, which I think is plain enough on my face, as he very quickly changes his demeanour.

“I’m sorry,” he says urgently. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I just meant that he’d changed you and not for the better. You know this yourself.”

I fold my arms over my chest and, feeling as sure as I look, say, “Arran may have changed me, but James brought me back to life.”

“And what about me?” he remonstrates. “Me. The one who has cared for you, done everything for you. I’ve never hurt you . . . never abandoned you.”

“I know,” I say softly, quickly changing my tone, “and I am, and will always be, eternally grateful to you, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to be with him. I can’t just stay here with you out of some misplaced sense of loyalty.”

Okay, so I’m not quite sure why I just said that and, honestly, that sounded a lot better in my head. But it’s too late now, I can’t take it back.

His face hardens. “So go, then,” he says, his voice devoid of feeling, and turns away from me.

“I need your help.” I cringe as I say the words but know I have no other choice.

“Don’t you think I’ve helped you enough?” he says this without turning around.

“I know you have, and I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice . . . if there was any other way.”

He turns around, and folds his arms across his chest. “And just what is it you now require of me?”

He knows exactly what I need, he’s not stupid – he’s just going to make me say it out loud.

I hold my nerve. “I need you to make me human and send me to earth.”

He unfolds his arms and laughs hollowly. “And why would I do such a thing?”

I stare calmly into his bright green eyes. “Because you’re my friend.”

He seems to falter but then he shakes his head resolutely. “No, I won’t do it.”

“Please, Arlo.”

“No.”

I look at him steadily. “Don’t make me do it.”

“Don’t . . .” He frowns. “Please, Lucyna, don’t make me do this.”

“But you’re giving me no other choice!” I suddenly yell.

“You have another choice!” he yells back, angrily shaking his head.

We glare at each other for a long moment.

He pushes his hands through is golden hair. “Just stay here, please.”

“No, I want to be with James.”

“Then you are being idiotic.”

“Maybe I am,” I shrug, “but I love him.”

He looks at me fiercely. “If you place this wish on me, then you will be on your own, Lucyna.”

I sit down on the edge of the hammock.

I don’t want to lose Arlo and I really don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t just stay here with him out of guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to lose you but –”

“Wish it,” he says cutting me off, voice hard, eyes like slits.

I brace myself, gripping my fingers into the netting and lift my head high. “I wish to be human and for you to send me to earth.”

He glances down to the ground, and when he looks back up his eyes are different. Yellow. Bright yellow.

I feel a beat of alarm. Something’s wrong.

Then everything seems to slip into slow motion.

My eyes move downwards to see all the asters surrounding me have all withered and died. The sky suddenly pulls in dark. And then Arlo utters those immortal words, and I know it’s too late.

The next thing – pain, such pain. It’s excruciating. I’m screaming. I know I am, I can hear it clear in my mind, but there’s no sound coming. Just nothing. Blackness. Total and utter black, surrounding me everywhere.

I’m falling. Fast and hard.

Then -

Chapter 18

Forgotten

Oww, my head hurts. Really hurts. It’s practically throbbing off my shoulders.

I’m aching all over and my mouth is parched. I’m so thirsty. I feel like I haven’t had a drink in, well – a really long time.

I reach my hand up to my head. It feels all woozy and foggy – what is wrong with me? I can’t even open my eyes because they feel so heavy and tacky.

Hey, hang on, what’s that sound? It sounds like . . . water?

Where am I?

With a huge amount of effort, I wrench my eyes open and, squinting in the bright light, I somehow manage to lift myself up slightly, and I find myself face-to-face with the ocean. The frothy waves are washing up onto the shoreline before me.

What am I doing here?

I prod my brain for the answer but none comes. It’s like there’s a dense fog covering everything and I can’t seem to penetrate it.

I sit myself up further and rub at my pounding head. Then I slowly glance around my surroundings taking in the beach spread out all around me. There’s a couple of people further up walking a dog, then I clock a man quickly approaching from my right, jogging quickly along the shoreline.

“Excuse me,” I say, but my voice comes out scratchy and hoarse and he doesn’t hear me. I manage to kneel myself up onto my protesting limbs. “Excuse me!” I say more loudly, waving my hand about.

Thankfully I catch his attention and he stops just past me and turns back, continuing to jog on the spot, looking at me questionably.

“Erm, can you tell me where I am?” My voice still sounds as rough as sandpaper.

He glances around and then back at me, a smile creeps onto his lips. “The beach,” he says flippantly.

I rub my forehead, frustrated. “I mean which beach? Whereabouts?”

He peers at me curiously, still continuing to jog on the spot. “Bondi.”

My stomach tightens, like a hand’s just grabbed hold of it. Something doesn’t feel right.

I sit back onto my haunches, my heart pounding. “Bondi?” I say my voice jumping about with apprehension. “As in Bondi beach in Australia?”

He laughs condescendingly. “Yes, as in Bondi beach in Sydney, Australia.” He accentuates each word as though I’m the most stupid person he’s ever met.

Bondi? Australia?

No that’s . . . I don’t know.

I throw my mind back as hard as I can, trying to catch hold of something, anything, but there’s nothing, nothing at all, just an invariable . . . nothingness. Not a single tangible memory for me to grab hold of. It’s like trying to wade through mud. Everything’s all muggy and cloudy. My memories are out of my reach, almost as if I no longer own them, no longer have a right to them. Because no matter what angle or route I try to take in my mind, I keep drawing a blank, a big, fat blank.

Oh God, what’s happened to me? Why can’t I remember anything?

I feel a massive stab of panic.

“Heavy night, eh?” the jogger says jeeringly, grinning down at me, and I think it must be the look of absolute horror on my face, that changes his to concern. He stops jogging, comes over, and crouches down in front of me.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, wide eyes peering at me.

My eyes start to sting and a big fat tear suddenly trickles down my cheek. “I don’t know,” I gulp, twisting my hands together in my lap. “I mean, I don’t know how I got here.”

A look of surprise flickers across his face. “Oh, erm, what? You don’t know how you got here?” he echoes my words, as though he barely believes them.

I shake my head numbly as another tear rolls down my cheek. I roughly wipe it away. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here . . . I don’t know how I got here.”

“Oh, erm, right, well, it’s okay, don’t you worry.” He pushes his blonde hair off his damp forehead. “I’ll, erm, I’ll . . .” I can see his eyes scanning around and then he fixes his sight onto something. “Just wait here a sec,” he says, quickly rising to stand, “I’ll just go get some help.” He dashes off, leaving me alone.

I wrap my arms around my trembling body.

Less than a minute later, the jogger arrives back with a dark haired, very tanned guy who’s wearing sunglasses, black shorts and a white polo shirt emblazoned with the word – Lifeguard.

The lifeguard crouches before me but the jogger stays standing, hanging a bit further back.

“Hey,” the lifeguard says, “you okay?”

I press my lips together and shake my head.

“Here.” He hands me a tissue he just pulled from his shorts pocket.

“Thanks,” I mumble. I take it gratefully and wipe my eyes.

He pulls off his sunglasses, revealing the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen – well I mean, I think they are.

“I’m sorry,” I sniffle.

“You’ve nothin’ to be sorry about.” He smiles, eyes warm. He sits down in front of me, crossing his legs.

“My names Fen. I’m a lifeguard – obviously.” He grins down at his chest and I force a weak smile in return. “So, this guy here –” He thumbs over his shoulder glancing back at the jogger.

“Paul,” the jogger affirms.

“Paul, right –” Fen the lifeguard says with a nod, then looks back to me. “– said you might need some help, that you’re a bit confused, that you don’t remember how you got here. That right?”

“Yes,” I say in a lowered tone.

“Okay,” he says, tucking his chin length dark hair behind his ears. His phone starts to ring and I jump at the sound. My eyes follow his hand to his belt where his phone is clipped. He switches it off without looking at it, all the time keeping his bright blue eyes fixed on me. “Were you drinking last night?” he asks. I see his eyes quickly sweep over my clothes as though his answer lies there. I follow his gaze down to my jeans and white t-shirt.

Was I drinking?

I push my hair back off my face. “I’m not sure – I mean I don’t think I was . . . I – I can’t remember.”

“Right,” he nods. “Did you maybe have anything else, something a bit – stronger?” he asks this in a quieter voice.

“Stronger?”

“Drugs.”

Erm . . .

“No, I don’t think so . . .” I shake my head, leaving my brain feeling like its still swishing about inside. “Well, I mean . . .” I sigh and shrug helplessly, looking straight into his eyes, “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” He rubs his forehead with his knuckles. “So can you tell me the last thing you do remember?”

I curl my fingers together, clasping hold of the tissue in my hand.

Taking a deep breath I close my eyes and try again. I push my mind back really hard, as far out as I can, but again all I draw up is a blank. Panic quickly rises in me.

I flick my eyes open. “I don’t know!” my voice shoots out in terror. “I can’t remember! I can’t remember anything!”

I can see the shock reverberate through his eyes but he still manages to hold a calm, warm exterior. His look is so warm and so calming that for a split second I actually feel comforted. It doesn’t last long when the present slams straight back into me.