Chapter 253
The first thing I notice is the smell—Peter’s office always has that vaguely metallic scent of overused tech, filtered air, and synthetic antiseptic. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s definitely sterile, like everything in this facility. Like it’s trying too hard to be neutral. To not smell like blood or fear or the sea. I find Peter at his desk, hunched over two monitors, both filled with what look like endlessly scrolling columns of numbers and shifting neural pattern charts.
“Hey, Doc,” I say softly, knocking once on the frame before slipping inside.
He startles, eyes snapping up from the screen before softening into something like relief. “Phoebe,” he says, standing too quickly and nearly tripping over his own feet. “God, it’s good to see you.”
I grin. “Likewise. You have no idea.”
He rubs at the back of his neck, eyes darting around the room like he’s not sure what to do with himself. “Last I saw you, you were…well, a lot less alive.”
“Yeah, that seems to be a theme,” I say. “I keep coming back. Bit of a habit now.”
He chuckles, then sobers as I sit on the edge of his desk. “So? What happened? Since you left? I’ve heard rumors, but no one’s given me the full story.”
So I give it to him. In broad strokes, anyway. I tell him about Wake, about Khale and Ao, about becoming Enkian. About the Ether. The warships. The Leviathan. I keep my voice even, like it’s just facts, just information he should have. I don’t mention how it felt to hold the ocean in my veins, or how my nightmares have only gotten worse since I touched the edge of godhood.
When I finish, he just blinks at me for a moment, trying to absorb it all.
“Jesus,” he says finally. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
“Wouldn’t be nearly as fun,” I say with a smirk.
Peter runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Well, since you’ve been gone, things here have gone full sci-fi. Shoal showed up out of nowhere, made some kind of deal with Lily, and now Enigma’s marching to his drumbeat.”
“But you’re still here.”
“Yeah, well…” He shrugs. “I guess I wanted to keep an eye on things. And… I’ve been working on the Elder Kin. Studying their brainwaves. The way they think, or… process information. It’s like trying to interpret dreams with a calculator.”
“Any luck?” I ask.
“Some,” he says. “They seem to respond to sound—specific frequencies, like a language. Or maybe a command structure. It’s not just instinct; it’s more like…coordination. Strategy.”
I nod slowly, remembering the way they responded to Lily’s melody like a trained unit. “That’s horrifying.”
“Yeah. A little.”
I pause. “Actually, I was hoping you could help me with something else. Or… rather, our mutual friend could.”
Peter raises a brow. “You want another background check?”
I nod. “There was this girl Shoal mentioned. Elena. He said she lived near a beach town in New Zealand—small place. This was like twenty years ago. He learned English, Maori, and French during that time, which might narrow it down. She died in an accident. He never said her last name.”
Peter frowns. “That’s not a lot to go on.”
“You found Rafe,” I remind him. “And he wasn’t supposed to exist at all.”
Peter sighs but pulls out his tablet. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks,” I say, genuinely grateful. “I think it matters. I think she matters.”
He nods. “So… speaking of women who matter.” His eyes flick toward the door. “How’s… Marina?”
“Delphinium,” I correct gently. “She’s going by Delphi now.”
His face lights up for a moment, then dims just as fast. “She’s… recovering. Better than I expected. I mean, considering how long she was in that pod, her vitals are stable, her coordination’s improving daily, and—” He stops himself. “But that’s not what you’re asking.”
I grin. “Nope.”
Peter rubs his hands together, awkward and anxious. “I don’t know what to do, Phoebe. I feel like a creep half the time just looking at her. She’s so… innocent. New. And I’m just—this awkward guy who’s too old and too nerdy and probably projecting.”
“She’s an adult, Peter.”
“She’s been through hell. I don’t want to… take advantage.”
“You’re not,” I say. “You’re being kind. You’re showing up. That’s what she needs. Not some knight in shining armor—just someone who chooses to stand beside her.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “She’s incredible. And I keep thinking… I don’t deserve to be the one helping her.”
I reach out, rest a hand over his. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
“I failed her.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. I would know, I’ve been there enough myself.”
And I’ve learned that it’s not about the situations we find ourselves in, Peter. It’s about what we do next. It’s about how we choose to overcome them.”
He goes quiet, jaw working like he’s chewing over the words. When he speaks again, it’s so soft I almost miss it.
“I choose her.”
I blink, startled. “What?”
“Marina. Delphinium. I don’t care what name she uses.” His voice gains strength, clarity. “It’s her spirit I choose. Every time.”
Something swells in my chest—hope, maybe. Something sweeter.
“Then you need to tell her that,” I say.
Peter’s eyes finally lift to meet mine, something bright flickering there. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I think I might know how.”
I raise a brow. “Oh?”
He grins sheepishly. “If you’ll help me.”
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