Of Neptune

  The car pulls into the driveway of Reed’s house. Grigsby opens the door for me, only to grab me by the upper arm again and all but escort me up the porch steps and to the front door.

  “Um. Ow,” I tell him.

  He lets go immediately. “Sorry. Habit.” Just how many arrests does it take to make a habit out of grabbing someone’s arm? Neptune didn’t seem like the kind of town that would have need of a seasoned sheriff.

  Reed’s mom answers the doorbell. “Emma, so good to see you! Oh. Sheriff Grigsby. Is … Is there a problem? Where’s Reed? Now what has he done?” I can tell she’s trying to discern if Reed is really the problem, or if I am.

  Grigsby’s face is grim. “Reder home? We need to speak with him.”

  She grabs the dish towel she’d tucked into her apron and wipes her already dry hands on it as she calls over her shoulder for Reder. “You’ve got visitors, honey.” The tightness in her voice is noticeable even to an oblivious being like myself.

  Reder’s heavy footsteps fall on the stairs, and when he reaches us at the bottom, he takes one look at me and ushers us into the adjoining living room. The weird thing is, Grigsby’s hold actually gets tighter once we’re seated on the couch. What does he think will happen here? I’ll tell Reder that his son has been kidnapped or worse and then I’ll lunge for his jugular?

  But I know it must be nerves. After all, Reed disappeared on his shift, while he was in the woods close by. It’s kind of humiliating, being the sheriff and all.

  Grigsby clears his throat when Reder’s heavy glare falls on him. By Reder’s expression, he’s already heard through the radio grapevine what has happened. “We were in the woods looking for the boy,” the sheriff starts. By that, I assume he means searching for Galen, just as we were. “The dogs caught his scent, and we were on him until we got to the river. He wouldn’t stop running from us.”

  Reder turns to me, surprised. “Why would Galen run from our search parties?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “He could have been running from Kennedy,” Grigsby says. “Maybe Kennedy got to him first.”

  Ohmysweetgoodness. The thought hadn’t occurred to me but makes perfect sense now. If Kennedy has a habit of kidnapping people, and Galen disappeared almost as soon as we came to town …

  “Go on,” Reder says.

  Grigsby swallows, nodding toward me. “Emma says she was in the woods with Reed, looking for the boy. Says Kennedy pulled a gun on them and took Reed.”

  “He took Reed and shot at me,” I blurt. “We’re wasting time here. We’ve got to find them.”

  Reder stands. Panic washes over his face. I wonder for an isolated second if my hysteria is contagious. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Reder unnerved. “Are you okay, Emma?” he says.

  I nod, wrapping my arms around myself as if to the contrary. He puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. The alarm is gone from his expression, replaced by a look I know well. It’s the face Mom makes when she’s acting like a nurse—the face of an emergency responder. Calm, collected, courageous. “Did Kennedy say anything before he took Reed?”

  I nod, then tell him word for word what went down. I’ll never forget that conversation for the rest of my life. When I’m finished, Reder looks at Grigsby. “Escort Emma to the basement of city hall. Put two guards on her. It sounds like Kennedy was targeting Reed, but he could be after Emma as well. He could have been holding Galen, too. Obviously he’s not hiding them in town anywhere or they would have been spotted.”

  Grigsby nods. “He supposedly goes to the woods every day looking for his plants. That’d be the first place I’d check.”

  “Take every warm body you can find and go back out there. Spread out, but no one goes alone. Make sure everyone who knows how to use a gun has one.” Reder shifts his gaze to me. He is all business now. “Emma, go with Grigsby. You’ll be safe with him. In the meantime, I think it’s time you called your mother, don’t you?”

  32

  GALEN COMES to, his pulse heavy and threatening to pummel through his temple. He can’t open his eyes gently enough. First one, then the other. The light of day lances through his line of vision, and it feels like a thousand grains of sand are stuck to his eyeballs.

  Each pound of his heartbeat seems to shake the room around him. As if that weren’t enough, the new hole in his leg throbs with the pain of being recently moved. He groans.

  “Hey, man,” a voice says in front of him.

  Galen squints into the sunlight streaming in through the window on the opposite side of the room. Reed sits under it.

  “Hey, Galen,” Reed says. “Are you okay?” Reed is in the same position as Galen. Sitting on the floor, chained with hands above his head, legs stretched out in front of him.

  Galen nods. “You?” The word feels tangy in his mouth.

  “I’m good. Well, as good as I can be, you know.” Reed swallows. “So, um, where have you been? We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Everyone has. And what happened to your face?”

  Everything, Galen wants to say. “I’ve been Tyrden’s guest the past few days.” Galen waits for a false reaction from Reed. Delayed remorse, counterfeit shock. Any sign that he or his father could be in on his imprisonment.

  But Reed’s eyes instantly go round as lily pads. “Tyrden did that to you? What did you do to piss him off?”

  But Galen is distracted—the hands of grogginess haven’t quite released him yet. Reed is supposed to be with Emma, not tied up and held prisoner in a dingy old house in the woods. Where is Emma? is all he wants to know, but right now, his mouth won’t move to make the words. Because what if she’s not okay?

  Galen scans their surroundings. A wood building made with logs—which explains the damp musty odor he smelled before he could open his eyes. A lonely wooden stool sits in one corner, and a full table and chairs sit off to the left of Galen. A pair of muddy rain boots stands guard at the only door in the cabin. And none of it matters. Because he’s ready to ask now. The only question that matters is the one Galen finally forces out: “Where is Emma?”

  “I don’t know. She ran away, but … I don’t know if she … But the best I can figure is that she did escape, because if not, he would have brought her here, too.… But I swear he was a horrible shot, actually. I’m not worried.” His voice speaks volumes to the opposite.

  The idea of Kennedy shooting at Emma makes Galen’s stomach feel like a self-contained waterfall, roiling and raging. “Why is he doing this? Where is he now?” The thought What else could possibly happen crosses his mind, too.

  “I don’t know. He’s not the only one, though. I mean, I haven’t seen anyone else here, but he keeps talking to someone on the radio.”

  “Radio?”

  “He has a satellite radio, so I figure we’re well out of town if his phone doesn’t have a signal. He must have been planning this forever.” Reed’s voice is tainted with a begrudging sort of admiration. “I thought he was just a crazy scientist,” he grumbles. “We all did.”

  “Planning what? You said he was interested in plants.”

  “I said what he said. Which was obviously a lie, don’t you think? He did say, ‘mermaid,’ to whoever he was talking to on the other end of that radio. We’re screwed.”

  Nice. A botanist turned mermaid enthusiast? To Galen, that’d be the best-case scenario. But Mr. Kennedy has an air of knowledge about him. A familiarity. The way he set the trap in the river, for instance. Galen had wondered what river fish he’d been trying to catch with such an odd net arrangement. The net was large; obviously the prey was, too.

  Galen has the sinking feeling that it caught exactly what it was supposed to.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Galen says, pulling and testing the chains above his head. “We’ve got to find Emma before he does.”

  Reed shakes his head. “The chains are bolted in, man. I sat here and watched him drill it myself. The wood’s not rotten enough to give.”

  Galen beats his hea
d against the wall. “We can’t stay here. I can’t stay here.”

  “What, but I can just put on some sunscreen and relax?” Reed spits. “That’s grand of you.”

  “You don’t understand,” Galen starts. Then he tilts his head. “Or maybe you do understand. Maybe you know everything. You are Reder’s son, after all.”

  “Oh, geez, let’s just be as indirect as possible. Yes, I know, okay? I know he wanted Emma to help unite Neptune with the underwater kingdoms. And I don’t expect a Royal like you to understand. And for the record, Emma knows that I know. Everyone knows. So you don’t have to worry about bringing that up when you try to drag my name through the mud.”

  Galen scrutinizes Reed’s face, looking for any morsel of a lie. He finds none. He decides to push further. If Reder wants to unite Neptune with the underwater kingdoms, then what does Tyrden want? “You’re telling me you didn’t know your father held me prisoner?”

  “You said Tyrden did that to you.”

  “He was acting on orders from your father.”

  At this, Reed laughs. “My father would never trust Tyrden with any kind of orders. That guy’s crazy as a raccoon in daylight.”

  Tell me about it. “What do you mean?”

  “Did Tyrden happen to tell you that he used to be the leader of Neptune? That the citizens voted him out in favor of my dad?”

  No, but he did tell me democracy wasn’t working lately. And that Reder wasn’t as good a leader as everyone thinks he is. The whole pictures paints itself in Galen’s head. “Why did they vote him out?”

  Reed shrugs. “It was before I was born. All Dad will say is that he was more like a dictator than an elected leader. I’ve heard some people call him cruel.”

  Sounds about right. “Why didn’t your father force him to leave?”

  “You can’t force someone to leave just because they have a personality disorder. We have to abide by human laws on land, remember?”

  A shame, to be sure. “Tyrden wanted me to call my brother. He wanted me to get Grom to attack Neptune. To tell him that Reder was holding me and Emma as hostages.”

  Reed licks his lips. “Did you do it?”

  “Of course not.” Galen rolls his eyes. “He wants your father dead.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here, Galen. We have to warn my dad.”

  “I left a message with my brother. I told him not to come to Neptune.”

  “Oh, well that’s nice. We should just stay here then. Do you mind passing the cookies?”

  Galen grins. Finally, they have something in common with each other—the urgent need to get back to Neptune.

  A problem that leaves them both speechless. Both of them survey the room, as if in a contest to see who can come up with the best escape plan first. In all truthfulness, Galen has nothing. Mr. Kennedy had been very thorough in selecting strong chains and bolts for his prisoners. So thorough that none of this could have been chance.

  His presence in Neptune.

  The trap in the river.

  The obviously predetermined location to house his victims.

  Not a plant or flower in sight.

  If Mr. Kennedy is a botanist, Galen is Triton himself.

  Which wouldn’t help him escape anyway.

  “I have an idea,” Reed says, his features brightened by what Galen recognizes as naive hope. “Is it true that you have the Gift of Triton?”

  Galen blinks.

  “Oh, don’t be shy about it now.” Reed rolls his eyes. “Emma swore me to secrecy. And anyway, we need to combine our skills to get out of here, don’t you think?”

  Jealousy seeps through Galen’s veins, burning every part of him like the venom of a scorpion fish. Every second Galen has spent away from Emma, every inch apart they’ve been, Reed has filled in with his own presence. His questions. His flirty smiles.

  Galen pushes the thought aside. “Oh? Why don’t you use your gift to send a few fish to untie us then?”

  Reed bangs his head against the wood behind him. “What is your deal, man? Don’t you want to get out of here?”

  Galen pulls his knees up to his chest, as if they can protect his heart in some way against what he’s about to say. “Tyrden showed me pictures of you. With Emma,” he chokes out. The words feel like tiny sharp fish bones in his throat. This isn’t the time to confront Reed and he knows it. But what if I never get another chance?

  Reed stiffens. “What? How?”

  “It didn’t look like you cared much about privacy.” In all honesty, it would be hard to convince Galen that Reed didn’t actually pose for the camera. “You’re saying you didn’t know?”

  “Of course I didn’t know!”

  “How could he get that close without you noticing him?”

  Reed shakes his head, looking every bit as confused as Galen feels. “I never noticed Tyrden. He must have someone else working with him. Someone who could get close to me and Emma without setting off any alarms.”

  Galen concedes with a half nod. Or you’re an idiot. “Yes, there were others at first. He wasn’t the one who actually took me. There were men with trucks. Full-blooded Syrena. When I woke up, I was with Tyrden.”

  “What did they look like?”

  What did they look like? “I told you. They were full-blooded Syrena. One of them had a big nose, as far as I could tell.”

  Reed rolls his eyes. “Awesome. That’s super-helpful. Thanks.”

  If Galen had use of his hands, he’d be massaging his temple right now. Or dotting Reed’s eye. “It was dark and they knocked me out. I never really got to see their faces.”

  A silence falls between them then, one filled with aggravation and helplessness. Minutes come and go with nothing useful presenting itself as an escape. Just when Galen thinks they’re done with the conversation for good, Reed pollutes the air with a question. “So if you saw pictures of us together … does that mean you know I kissed her?”

  33

  THE COUCH in the basement of city hall is everything a basement couch should be. Comfy. Pastel floral. Fuzzy in spots. A true relic from the 1990s. And it’s the only piece of furniture in the entire room, aside from bookshelves and filing cabinets lining the walls.

  So this couch is where I’ll be sitting when I call Mom. When I tell her where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing, who I’ve been doing it with. I’ll be perched atop this cushion like a vulture, shoulders scrunched, head hanging, waiting to be chastised.

  I gently toss the phone back and forth between my hands. The universal symbol of stalling.

  It’s time.

  As I dial, I’m hoping and praying that she won’t answer. She didn’t answer any of my check-in calls yesterday and hasn’t returned them either. And if anyone had a mother to be suspicious of when she doesn’t answer the phone, it would be me.

  This time she does answer. Breathless. “Emma, I was just about to call you.”

  “I called you several times yesterday,” I say, enjoying the upper hand while it lasts. I’m sure I can hear the quiet thrum of a vehicle in the background. I can’t tell if I’m on speakerphone.

  “Did you? My phone accidentally fell in the fish tank, so I had to get a new one.”

  “The fish tank?” Our fish tank is built into our living room wall. You literally have to reach underneath the wall to feed the fish or change the filter. Accidentally dropping a cell phone in it is a feat of clumsiness even I couldn’t achieve.

  “Yes, sweetie. Your grandfather told me where he sent you, and when I threw the phone at his head, I missed and hit the fish tank, shattering it everywhere.”

  Great. “I was just calling to tell you all about that, actually.” I wonder how much Grandfather actually spilled.

  “No need.” Her voice is smooth and sweet as molasses. I’m in huge trouble. “I’m on my way to get you.”

  This makes my stomach feel like a nest of hornets. “I don’t need to be rescued, Mom.” This is not going how I planned.

  “Apparently, Galen thin
ks you do.”

  “You talked to Galen?”

  “He called Grom and left a message for him not to come to Neptune. Any idea why?”

  “When was that? Where did he call from? Is he okay?” Why is everyone except me experiencing Galen sightings?

  “He called from his own cell phone this morning. Grom called him back, but he never answered. It just goes straight to voice mail. I’ve called the phone company to have them track the location.” She’s quiet for a minute, then says, “He sounded panicked, Emma. We think he’s in trouble.”

  I think he is, too. This morning he was spotted running through the woods, toward the river. Now I find out he called Grom and warned him away from Neptune. “It’s got to be Kennedy,” I blurt.

  “Kennedy?”

  So then I explain everything that happened in the woods with Reed. Mom is quiet for a long time. “Where are you now?”

  “For my protection they put me in the basement of city hall. There are two guards at the door.”

  “Sounds a lot like keeping you prisoner.”

  “All I have to do is ask one of the guards, and they’ll get me whatever I need. I’m not a prisoner.”

  “Emma, what exactly is going on here? What have you been doing in Neptune all this time? I’m getting mixed information here. Galen wants us to stay away, but you want us to come?”

  Here is the moment of truth. “I mean, I want you to come to Neptune, but just to visit. Not to like, get me or whatever.” Or like, grab my ear and use it to escort me to the car in front of the entire town. Nalia Poseidon Princess McIntosh still thinks doing things like that is okay. Deep breath. “I don’t know why Galen doesn’t want you to come. We had a fight, and he said he was going to tell Grom about Neptune—that’s all he told me before he left. I want you to come because … because I’ve made friends here. And they want peace. With the ocean kingdoms. With the Royals. They want to be able to swim in the oceans. They’re like me.” Yep, I’m screwing it up. I feel like a telegram machine firing off fragments and incomplete sentences with the eloquence of a woodpecker. I’m glad Reder’s not here to see just how effective I am in the ambassador role.