Page 79 of The Quiet
THE DIVE
THERE WAS SOMETHING rare in the bliss of it all. Crow had returned to the Imperia. Well rested and in a new change of clothes, Ella settled on a comfortable couch next to Samual as they watched others mingle and celebrate in the dining room of the palace.
They shared silence for a moment in the wake of the celebration, Ella holding a small glass of white wine against a light blue dress. After wearing heavy, bothersome gear for so long, the silky fabric had been a heavenly complement to her skin.
“Thank you,” Ella said quietly, looking through the room of people. Some she had known from the Imperia and others had been friends of Jackson’s outside of the ROSE. He was talking with one now at the far corner of the room, eagerly engaged in conversation. He was smiling broadly and his happiness gave her such peculiar joy.
Without realizing it, she was mirroring that smile, glancing over at Samual who was watching her contentedly.
“The pleasure was mine,” he said with a deep relief on his face.
Her smile faded as she watched him, and he lifted a hand to her face and moved a long strand of hair behind her ear.
“Why did you do it, Samual? Really?” she whispered. “Why did you take me in?” she asked.
He offered a tight smile, and turned to look back into the room as his weathered hands landed in his lap.
“Being a diver is a powerful and dangerous responsibility,” Samual said.
“But you adopted me,” she said, “that goes beyond just responsibility. You used to say the Spirits told you to, but I know the truth now. So why?”
She saw the gloss of tears in his eyes, wondering what had provoked such deep emotion.
“A few years before Peter’s curse took hold and washed us into The Ocean, I lived in a small village on the outskirts of the mountains. One day, a friend of mine started behaving strangely. He was clearly in great pain. He couldn’t seem to escape the past, was drowning in alcoholism, and so we invited a doctor to the village to help him. It took some convincing, but I was finally able to talk him into taking Amnesia,” Samual explained, gesturing to the room with his hands. “He took it, but the next morning, and I am sure this is no coincidence, a young orphan that he loved took his knife and escaped the village. She never returned.”
Ella searched his eyes intently, and he nodded in acknowledgement to her silent question before continuing on with his story.
“You see, when you awaken from The Ocean and then decide to dive back, you will recognize faces from your past life. When I saw you on the streets, I could hardly believe my eyes.”
“You knew Valentine,” Ella breathed, “but I don’t remember you.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said. “You were always in your own world, playing pretend and attached to Valentine at the leg. And who knows, maybe you’ll start to remember me eventually. You’re going to see the world differently from now on.”
“You said when I dive,” she replied, “I’ll remember people as they were. When I dive?” she repeated, clutching the glass of wine in her hand.
Samual smiled kindly. “Well, Ella,” he said, “you are enrolling in the diver academy, aren’t you?”
“I can’t just practice a few times and then do it?” she asked.
Samual laughed. “Very like you to try and approach it that way. I will teach you what I know as well, and I’m sure you’ll get through in a couple of months or so, but I wouldn’t rush it.” His eyes moved across the room, catching sight of Jackson. “You seem happy. The people in The Ocean will awaken at their own pace. We just help where we can and sometimes we can’t help at all. I think it’s equally, if not more important, to build your life here.”
Ella followed Samual’s gaze to Jackson. He’d cleaned up well and with his hair freshly cut and a completely new change of clothes, he was a far cry from the battered warrior she’d dragged from Peter’s imperfect curse.
“It feels mad to be so content,” she breathed, and Samual did not laugh at that. She scanned the room with its elegant silver frames, white molding, and dark green and blue carpeting thatcaptured winter colors with the vibrance of a summer day. In the room were a variety of friends and allies, light chatter bubbling out into the hallway, a laugh breaking free from one huddled conversation or another. Jackson caught her looking, sending her a warm smile that communicated all of his natural warmth and a loyalty and acceptance that seemed surreal. He’d come to care for her so quickly and so assuredly it had changed her world in a manner of weeks into something that was no longer familiar.
“Am I mad?” she asked Samual at last. “I still don’t remember Peter’s fate. I’m not sure if I want to.”
Samual nodded in understanding and then in his same, knowing way, replied, “Nothing lasts forever. We hold each moment in our hand like a feather that the wind can take away because in the end we own nothing. Enjoy this madness. Don’t waste too much time questioning it.”
“And Lambspeak?” she whispered, hoping he’d say something to put her unease at rest.
“Strike become what we feed them,” Samual replied in a low whisper back. His next words sounded like a warning. “It is hard to say what creates them in the end, but Jackson sacrificed his humanity a long time ago when he first accepted Lambspeak’s help. If the transformation cannot be prevented, then it is important that the Strike be given not just our fears and insecurities, but we should also be willing to surrender some of our joys to them. In that, we can sincerely expect to foster a creature that does not reflect the worst of us, but instead cares sincerely for us.”
It took Ella a moment to digest the words. She listened politely, nodded into silence, and then the Chief Listener Angelina pulled herself from the crowd to engage with Ella again.
Ella continued on in conversation, but something disturbed her from Samual’s explanation long into the evening. That night, she returned to Jackon’s arms. In the shelter of their home, she felt both his passion and his love for her, but was left in the aftermath with isolation, staring at the darkness of a plain ceiling.
Jackson was asleep beside her, breathing steadily in the comfort of a large bed with delicate, green covers. The night was quiet with all but the faint sounds of crickets and the occasional rustle of a nearby person or animal.
