“Take a moment to compose yourself. We’ll be waiting at the surface for you.” Grom slinks toward the door, but pauses at the threshold. He turns back to his brother. “I am very sorry, little brother.”
Galen watches as Grom propels himself out of the room. He’s not sure if it was his words or his actions that took the vitality out of the normally confident stroke of Grom’s fin. Probably both.
Galen closes his eyes. How much more can I take?
23
I KNOW the expression on Galen’s face. Not because I’ve ever seen it before on him, but because I’ve had the same look. The same feelings lurking behind the expression.
First, your mind is blown. You can’t accept that this person who was just with you at breakfast is now dead. She is floating in his arms, and he is gently stroking her cheek as if somehow her eyes will flutter open. Sometimes the waves nudge her head, so it looks like she moved. But she didn’t.
Soon, the memories of her will flood him. Their normal daily routine, the way she laughed, her favorite food. After Chloe died, I remembered the way Chloe would spritz her perfume into the air three good times then walk into the mist. Simple, everyday things that made them the person they were in your eyes. Even now, I remember the expert way Rachel cooked in high heels.
Then, with all the memories comes the guilt. You remember all the opportunities you had—and missed—to show them you loved them. Did they know? Did they really know how much I cared about them? I berated myself all the time when Dad died. I could have been so much nicer. I could have helped him more with little things. Like wash his car without complaining for once. When he left his coffee cup in the sink, would it have killed me to just wash it and put it away? I could have listened better when he talked about his childhood. Told him “I love you” without him having to tell me first.
This, the guilt, will be the hardest part for Galen. He already takes responsibility for so much that isn’t his fault. He will somehow blame himself for Rachel’s death. He will fall into a spiral of remorse, into a self-made pit of regret.
And I silently promise him to catch him when he does.
The Trackers around us work in respectful silence, gathering the human survivors together in boats, ready to send them on their way to the next island. The original plan was to swim them over, but since a few of the boats could be salvaged, it was decided that it would be best to let them go alone. After all, they have a fantastic story to tell, and chauffeuring them along would only lend credibility to it.
When boats take off, Grom motions for everyone to submerge. We follow quietly and gather around him at the bottom of the ocean. Only Galen remains at the surface. And Rachel.
“This area is off limits to our kind,” Grom says. “Humans have seen us here, and their stories will spread to more humans. Some will believe them, some will not. Those that do might come to investigate. We will not give them anything to find here.”
His command is met with solemn nods. “You must also realize,” he continues, “that it is only a matter of time now before this happens again. Maybe not in our generation, maybe not in the next. But the time is coming when humans will find us. We all must think about what this means for us individually, but most importantly, for our kind. Go home now to your families. Tell them what has happened. Talk with them about what might.”
The crowd of Trackers and other volunteers disperses and we are left alone with one another and our thoughts.
Mom wraps her arms around me, careful to avoid my wound. “How are you holding up?” she whispers. I shrug. There is truth in a shrug. The truth is that there is no answer.
“Me, too,” Mom says. “Me, too.”
“I think Toraf should come to Galen’s house to recover,” Rayna says to Grom. There is no fight left in her. Just words and feelings. “I think we should ask Dr. Milligan to come look at him.”
Grom nods. He is not in the mood for conflict, either. “I think you’re right, little sister.” He motions to the Trackers who hold an unconscious Toraf in their arms. “Take Princess Rayna and her mate wherever she bids you.” He turns to his sister and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. “Send word if you need anything from me.”
Mom had wrapped Toraf’s side with seaweed to stave off the bleeding, but a small red stain is starting to soak through. He had a close call and we all know it. Just because his organs were spared doesn’t mean his muscles will heal correctly. I hadn’t thought of calling Dr. Milligan. I’m glad Rayna did. Besides, Dr. Milligan will want to be updated on all the latest events. And we have to tell him about Rachel.
Rayna throws her arms around Grom in a fierce, short hug. “I will. I really will.”
This chokes me up a bit. Even Mom appreciates the obvious upgrade in their relationship—and she doesn’t even like Rayna. She gives my shoulder another squeeze. I pat her hand and lean into her. We’ve all been through so much. But we’ve been through it together. Even Grom and Rayna are grateful for each other today.
When Rayna and the Trackers leave, Grom glances topside. Then he lets his gaze settle on me. “Young Emma.” It doesn’t sound condescending at all, the way he says it. Just wistful. “The twins will need you now. More than they realize.” He eases closer to me, pensive. “It was difficult for them when we lost our mother. Losing Rachel is … They suffered a great loss today.”
I draw in a breath. If we weren’t underwater, tears would be spilling down my cheeks instead of getting sopped up by the gentle current. I wonder how many tears the ocean has swallowed, how much of the ocean is actually made of tears.
“Grom, I hate to ask something like this, but what will we do with her body?” Mom says.
“What do humans normally do with their dead?”
“They bury them on land, or burn them. But the humans have rules and restrictions on that sort of thing. And Rachel wasn’t exactly … Rachel has a complicated past. A past that makes it impossible to properly bury her.”
I can tell this has already been weighing on Grom’s mind. Is this the sort of thing adults think about when someone dies, to take care of these matters first and grieve later? A look of understanding passes between Grom and my mom. “I’ll talk to the council about the Tomb Chamber,” he says. “I hardly think they’ll put up much of a resistance after today.”
“I would like that,” Galen says from behind his brother. I swim to him and he meets me halfway. His big arms encircle me. It’s not a bear hug, or a sensual touch. It feels like Galen is clinging to me for dear life. Like he is caught in a riptide and I am his anchor.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into his neck. The words almost lodge in my throat. He clutches me to him tighter, and rests his chin on the top of my hair.
“Woden has her,” he tells Grom. “Until we decide what’s best.”
Grom doesn’t answer. In fact, after a few minutes, I sense the pulses of Mom and Grom moving away from us. After several more minutes, I can’t sense them at all. The only pulse I feel is Galen’s. It drums against me, through me, around me.
Things will change without Rachel. Life will not run as smoothly. But this will not change. The way we fit together. The way we know each other.
Epilogue
“YOU’RE SURE you want to do this,” Galen says, eyeing me like I’ve grown a tiara of snakes on my head.
“Absolutely.” I unstrap the four-hundred-dollar silver heels and spike them into the sand. When he starts unraveling his tie, I throw out my hand. “No! Leave it. Leave everything on.”
Galen frowns. “Rachel would kill us both. In our sleep. She would torture us first.”
“This is our prom night. Rachel would want us to enjoy ourselves.” I pull the thousand-or-so bobby pins from my hair and toss them in the sand. Really, both of us are right. She would want us to be happy. But she would also want us to stay in our designer clothes.
Leaning over, I shake my head like a wet dog, dispelling the magic of hairspray. Tossing my hair back, I look at Galen.
His crooked smile almost melts me where I stand. I’m just glad to see a smile on his face at all. The last six months have been rough. “Your mother will want pictures,” he tells me.
“And what will she do with pictures? There aren’t exactly picture frames in the Royal Caverns.” Mom’s decision to mate with Grom and live as his queen didn’t surprise me. After all, I am eighteen years old, an adult, and can take care of myself. Besides, she’s just a swim away.
“She keeps picture frames at her house though. She could still enjoy them while she and Grom come to shore to—”
“Okay, ew. Don’t say it. That’s where I draw the line.”
Galen laughs and takes off his shoes. I forget all about Mom and Grom. Galen, barefoot in the sand, wearing an Armani tux. What more could a girl ask for?
“Don’t look at me like that, angelfish,” he says, his voice husky. “Disappointing your grandfather is the last thing I want to do.”
My stomach cartwheels. Swallowing doesn’t help. “I can’t admire you, even from afar?” I can’t quite squeeze enough innocence in there to make it believable, to make it sound like I wasn’t thinking the same thing he was.
Clearing his throat, he nods. “Let’s get on with this.” He closes the distance between us, making foot-size potholes with his stride. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me to the water. At the edge of the wet sand, just out of reach of the most ambitious wave, we stop.
“You’re sure?” he says again.
“More than sure,” I tell him, giddiness swimming through my veins like a sneaking eel. Images of the conference center downtown spring up in my mind. Red and white balloons, streamers, a loud, cheesy DJ yelling over the starting chorus of the next song. Kids grinding against one another on the dance floor to lure the chaperones’ attention away from a punch bowl just waiting to be spiked. Dresses spilling over with skin, matching corsages, awkward gaits due to six-inch heels. The prom Chloe and I dreamed of.
But the memories I wanted to make at that prom died with Chloe. There could never be any joy in that prom without her. I couldn’t walk through those doors and not feel that something was missing. A big something.
No, this is where I belong now. No balloons, no loud music, no loaded punch bowl. Just the quiet and the beach and Galen. This is my new prom. And for someone reason, I think Chloe would approve.
He nods once, firmly. “Okay.”
Taking both of my hands, he pulls me into the tide. Salt water deepens the lavender satin of my gown to almost black. The waves push into it, making it heavier and heavier. “Tell me when,” he says.
I nod. When Galen is neck deep and I’m clinging to him to keep my head above water. When my saturated prom dress feels like an anchor grasping at my limbs. When the moon is directly overhead and makes the silver flecks in his eyes shimmer like gems. That’s when I’m ready. “Now,” I breathe.
He brushes his lips against mine. Once. Twice. So soft it barely feels like anything. But it also feels like everything. He pulls me under. One day, when Galen and I are mated, I’ll be a princess. But I’ll never feel more like a princess than right now, in his arms, dancing on the ocean floor.
He pulls me from my trance with his lips against my ear. “Emma.”
It’s silly how my own name can send tingles shooting everywhere. “Hmm?”
“I’ve been thinking. About us.” He pulls away from me. “I think … I think I need a distraction.”
“Um. A distraction? From me?” The words taste vinegary in my mouth. They turn sweet again when Galen throws his head back and laughs.
“Emma,” he says, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip. “You are the one thing I’m sure of. Completely. Without thinking twice. But I want to get away from here for a little while. And I want you to come with me. I know you’re set on going to college in the fall. I’m only asking for the summer. Let’s go somewhere. Do something.”
I float up until I’m eye level with him. “Let’s. Where will we go?”
He shrugs. “I don’t care, as long as it’s away from any ocean.”
“So … the desert?”
He grimaces. “The mountains?”
I laugh. “Deal. We’ll go to the mountains.”
“You’re sure?”
I pull him by the neck until our noses touch. “Completely. Without thinking twice.”
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Anna Banks, Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton
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