Prophecy by Julie Anne Lindsey Read Free Book Online Page B

the swimmer. “Looks good, yeah?”
    “Sure.” We moved to the short end of the pool, watching as the half-human, half-torpedo swam, flipped, and returned again and again.
    Pale green and blue glass tiles covered the walls of the natatorium where local and state championship banners hung. I’d been present for the earning of three of the titles. Stacks of bright orange life vests stood beside cubicles of goggles, fins, and water weights. Huge white life preservers with the school logo hung on the walls around the pool perimeter. Swim pride filled my chest. Tall glass walls invited sunlight into the space. Steam gathered on the glass, fracturing sunbeams and casting rainbows on the floor. I used to doodle my initials in the condensation beside Kirk’s. How I’d ever liked him in any capacity escaped me. Had he been different before or was I?
    I crossed chilled arms over my chest, unreasonably agitated. My new lap partner suddenly looked a lot like competition. “So, who’s the eel?”
    Coach blew his whistle and the swimmer stopped stroking ten feet from the pool’s edge nearest our feet. The swimmer was far too long and broad to be a girl. Also, no shirt. So, who was this guy? Lean arms stretched toward the wall. His fingertips latched onto the shelf below my toes. Liam’s face broke the water’s surface. Blue goggles masked his eyes as he climbed from the pool and ran huge hands over dripping hair.
    “Hale.” Coach looked from Liam to me. “Callie Ingram. Callie, Liam Hale.”
    “Hello.” Liam spoke. No nod. No pretending I didn’t exist.
    “Hey,” I answered lamely.
    His accent was fabulous. I smiled, pleased with the idea of having him to myself for an hour a day. My theory about everything being better at the pool might hold water after all.
    Liam pulled off his goggles, revealing those unspeakably beautiful eyes. His frown returned and my smile fell. So much for my pool theory.
    Coach turned his back on me. “Your times are remarkable, Hale. Our season begins November first. We practice Monday through Thursday immediately after school. Swim meets begin the first of December. Miss a practice, you miss the meet. Miss a meet, you’re off the team. You swim unless you’re hospitalized, comatose, or dead. Same goes for practice. Think it over before you sign on. This is a solid five month commitment, longer if we get to Nationals.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Liam extended a hand to Coach and they shook on it.
    Coach ambled to his office, reviewing whatever he’d marked on his clipboard and shaking his head. He stopped at the threshold and turned back to Liam and me, still frozen where he left us.
    “You’re free to go, Hale.” He pointed his whistle necklace at me next. “Don’t wait for her. This one never leaves.”
    I shot Coach a sarcastic look before he fell into his chair and put his feet on the desk, watching us through his office window. Liam looked at me, an odd expression on his face. I averted my eyes, avoiding his super intense soul searching stare. It wasn’t my best idea. As my gaze fell on his broad shoulders, I sucked air. “You’re not bad.” I lifted a limp hand toward the pool. “In the water, I mean.”
    “No?”
    I shook my head, visually tracing the path of water droplets over the planes and angles of his chest, following patterns down a well-sculpted six-pack. Two rough scars caught my gaze, pulling my interest back up a few inches. Ragged white lines swelled over his chest and rib cage on one side. The marks looked like the result of an awful accident at first, ragged at the edges, imperfect, but I recognized the symbol they made. I’d seen it a thousand times in the Hale Cemetery. Like a letter z, tipped on a diagonal and elongated in an ancient hieroglyphic way. The symbol repeated in varied sizes down his left side. I searched his body again, closer this time, seeking anything else I missed. Water continued to fall from his hair to his torso. I tracked the drops over