The cabin of the SUV grows quiet then. Rayna and Toraf point to the tall buildings lancing up into the sky all around them, farther than they can crane their necks to see. Reed appears occupied by watching traffic pass outside his window. Emma relaxes against Galen’s chest, lost in her own thoughts.
He hopes today will not be a disappointment. Antonis is right—no matter the reason, they can no longer ignore the existence of Neptune. They have to work something out. And they’ll have to tell the Archives.
When they arrive at a restaurant called Hennen’s, Nalia lets everyone off at the door, except Rayna and Toraf, who’ve been commissioned to keep watch over Tyrden. At least, Galen thinks to himself, Rayna can give her fists a rest now that he’s properly sedated.
They wait on the curb in front while Nalia parks the car. Apparently, it takes an additional few minutes to find an ideal location for hostage storage. When she joins them, she winks at Grom, then laces her arm through his, ushering him inside. Galen, Emma, Reed, and Antonis follow her lead. Why wouldn’t they? She seems so at ease, like she’s done this hundreds of times.
The hostess leads them into a large private room, to a single long wooden table that could easily seat thirty. After placing down menus for everyone, she eases the door closed behind her. The room is glass-walled; none of the sounds from other parts of the restaurants can be heard.
Reder is already seated, along with two other men Galen doesn’t recognize. Reed takes the initiative to seat himself beside his father. It was decided on the way here that he would be permitted to do so in a show of generosity from the Royals.
Antonis’s voice rattles through Galen’s skull. A little diplomacy goes a long way.
Between father and son, they have a brief whispered conversation, wherein Reed holds up his injured hand for Reder’s inspection. Galen can’t tell what is running through the mayor’s mind right now, but it looks a lot like anger and frustration. Then he wears an emotion Galen is very familiar with—self-loathing.
By the time a short brunette server comes, no one has yet spoken. Everyone obediently gives her their drink order. When she returns with nine glasses of water, Nalia motions to her. “We won’t be ordering our dinner just yet,” she says. “We’d like some privacy if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” the waitress says, bowing away from Nalia, her drink tray in tow. This time when she closes the door, Grom begins immediately.
“We are appreciative that you chose to meet with us today,” he says.
Grom the diplomat. Just how appreciative he is remains to be seen, thinks Galen.
“That said, we are convening here without the knowledge or approval of the Archive council,” continues Grom.
“Are you saying this meeting is worthless, then?” Reder says.
Grom is unaffected. “I’m saying that any solutions or conclusions reached during this meeting will be treated as theoretical, until such time as it has been discussed with the council.”
Reder takes a sip of his water. “I suppose I’ll take what I can get.” His cell phone rings, then during the split second it takes for him to answer, the tune of a country song resounds through the glass-walled room. “Good,” he says after a couple of minutes. “Keep me posted.” When he hangs up, he looks at Galen. “Your friend Dr. Milligan has arrived in Neptune. He’s talking to Kennedy now.”
“Where are you keeping him?” Nalia says. “Somewhere secure, I hope.”
“We only have one holding cell in our jail,” Reder says. “That’s where he is.”
That they have a jail at all impresses Galen. What with a town whose inhabitants appear so in harmony with one another. “Has the NOAA arrived yet?” According to Dr. Milligan, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association had been notified—not good.
Reder shakes his head. “Turns out the NOAA sent one man out to investigate Kennedy’s claims, and that gentleman was, unfortunately, given wrong directions to Neptune when he called Sylvia’s inn from the interstate. Your Dr. Milligan will get a good half hour alone with Kennedy.”
Grom leans on the table, folding his hands in front of him. “Emma has told us the story of how your town came to exist. Are there others like it?”
Reder nods. “How many, I’m not sure. Some of Poseidon’s descendants remained behind in Europe rather than sail with Columbus. I assume they procreated. I hear that others traveled to Asia. Smaller groups started breaking off. I have no reason to doubt that they’re all over the world. But again, if you want to talk numbers, I have no idea.”
“Why haven’t we heard from them before now? Why is this the first extension of peace from Poseidon’s descendants?”
Reder shrugs. “It could be that they don’t have the same inclinations we do in Neptune.”
“Inclinations?”
“The same desire to explore the oceans,” Reed explains. “As far as we can figure, they’re content with sticking to freshwater or assimilating as humans.”
“Do you communicate with these other communities?” Nalia says.
Reder shakes his head. “Not really. Every now and then we get a visitor—whom we welcome, of course—but they are few and far between. The most recent was about thirty years back. From Italy. Had a nephew competing as an Olympic swimmer.” Reder can’t hide his small smile.
Grom wastes no time getting back to business, unimpressed. “Tyrden was recently involved in a conspiracy to overthrow the Triton kingdom. We would like to take him back to the ocean with us.”
Reder crosses his arms. “What proof do you have of that?”
“He told Emma what he did while he held her hostage. That was after he injured your guard—what was his name, Frank? He also kept Galen in captivity and used methods of torture on him in order to secure more information about the kingdoms.”
“Frank says he remembers waking up long enough for Tyrden to kick him. He thought maybe he was dreaming.” Reder scowls. “Even so, Tyrden is a citizen of Neptune. We have procedures in place for wrongdoing. He won’t go unpunished.”
“This isn’t just wrongdoing we’re talking about,” Nalia interjects. “His crimes are against the kingdoms. He abducted two Royals, conspired to overthrow Triton territory, and used fraud to simulate one of the sacred Gifts of the generals. We cannot leave him behind. He simply must return with us.”
“You may have noticed that we don’t abide by the laws of the kingdoms.”
“If your true pursuit is peace with them, you’d do well to at least respect the laws they hold dear,” Nalia says.
Reder considers. “You want me to turn over Tyrden. What am I getting in return? You’ve made me no promises.”
“And as we’ve said,” Grom says, “we are in no position to do so. But as king of the Triton territory, I can agree to an exchange.”
“An exchange for what?”
“Your son,” Grom says.
This evokes disturbed grunts from the other two Neptune officials sitting on either side of Reed and Reder. To Galen, these Syrena appear to be there for show. He wonders why the mayor bothered to bring them at all. It occurs to Galen that they could be bodyguards. Reder is, after all, outnumbered, no matter how public a restaurant this is.
“My son is sitting next to me,” Reder says, raising his voice. “He’s no longer in your custody. And you have the gall to offer him as an exchange? You’ll take him back over my dead body.” This makes the two “officials” tense up. Definitely bodyguards.
“You misunderstand me,” Grom says calmly. “I mean for Reed to accompany us back to the kingdoms as our guest.”
“For what purpose?” Reder says, alarm rattling in his voice.
Grom nods in understanding. “You must look at it from our perspective. You’ll agree that Antonis and I have a fantastic story to tell the Archives when we return. A town on the big land called Neptune that harbors long-lost descendants of Poseidon as well as Half-Breeds who have chosen to dispatch the laws of the generals. And then you want us to petition f
or peace and unity with them?” Grom shakes his head. “These things take time. We’ve just experienced upheaval in the kingdoms as it is. The Royals are being watched for even a small misstep.”
“What I’m hearing is that you can’t protect Reed if he goes with you,” Reder says.
“I’ll protect him,” Galen says through gritted teeth. For Emma’s sake. She wants this so badly.
“I appreciate the valiance, Galen, but you are one person. And you,” Reder says, focusing his attention on Grom again, “you haven’t explained how putting my son’s life in danger will unite us. I’m not connecting the dots here.”
“We can’t promise that it will unite us,” Antonis says. “But it will give us a better chance. I will go back and report that I, as well as all the generations of Poseidon kings before me, have known of your existence. That you have not pursued anything but peace with us, albeit from a distance. That you are not our enemies.”
“You will already be sending Tyrden with us as a token of goodwill, for him to be punished according to our laws,” Grom says. “That will not be viewed as a small thing. And by sending Reed with us, they will have a chance to see that he, too, has the Gift of Poseidon. I think they can be persuaded in time that an alliance with an entire town who possesses this Gift could prove beneficial to them.”
Reder takes in a deep breath, massaging his temples with shaky fingertips. “And if they decide that he’s an abomination under the law? If they decide my son should be put to death?”
“They accepted Emma,” Antonis says. “They would have to explain why one Half-Breed is acceptable and not the other. The Archives are not unreasonable, Reder.”
Reder nods, lifting his head higher. “You forget the other advantages we can offer the ocean dwellers.”
“Such as?” Nalia says, surprised.
“We have eyes and ears on land,” Reder says. “We can watch the human world for you. Galen has done a good job as ambassador to humans, I’m sure. But we have more connections. Better capability. It’s a full-time job, one that Galen shouldn’t have to shoulder alone.”
“This is true,” Grom says.
The whole room is silent then, heavy with contemplation. There are life-changing—world-changing—decisions being discussed over this glossy wood table. Any compromise reached here will carry with it a ripple effect for years to come. It will span generations on land and in the sea.
“If Reed is agreeable to it,” Reder says finally, “I’ll let him go. But it’s his choice.”
“I’m ready to go right now,” Reed says. “Let’s do this.”
Galen’s stomach tightens. Reed will be coming with them. Which means he’ll have more access to Emma. He glances at her sideways. Oblivious to his jealousy, she gives him an enthusiastic smile. Which he can’t help but return.
“Baby steps,” she whispers to him.
Galen nods. Baby food, he thinks to himself. Which is what Reed will be eating if he comes near you again.
Reder holds up his hand. “It’s inevitable that others of our kind will hear of this truce. What if they step forward?”
“We will put that worry off for another day, my friend,” Grom says. “I believe it sensible to meet again, within one cycle of the moon. This is not a decision the Archives will make in haste. Of course, if you need to send word to us before then, you may have our phone numbers. And if Reed is truly ready, we will take him now and be on our way.”
“There is one more thing,” Galen says to Reder. “Tyrden wasn’t working alone. There were other men who helped him take me. I would appreciate if you found out who.”
Reder nods. “I still haven’t formerly apologized for what happened to you both. I truly am sorry that these things took place on my shift, while I was in charge.” He looks to Grom. “You’re leaving already? What of Kennedy?” Reder says. “What if Dr. Milligan can’t help us?”
“I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve experienced human discovery,” Antonis says, standing. “Even if it is, you can always resort to what you do best.”
“What’s that?” Reder asks.
“Adapt.”
47
I DIAL Dr. Milligan’s number. When he answers, I put him on speaker and set the phone in the cup holder of the console between us in Galen’s rental car. It has been a long drive home in this cramped little compact, but it was all the airport had left. The rest of the Royal party is somewhere behind us on the interstate. They had to make a pit stop in Neptune in order to collect a few personal things for Reed, which Galen generously offered to keep at his house.
“Hello?” Dr. Milligan says. It sounds windy in the background. Or it could just be the suckiness of speakerphone.
“Dr. Milligan, it’s Galen. Can you talk?”
“Indeed I can, my boy. I’ve just left Neptune. Interesting place, that.”
“And Kennedy?”
Dr. Milligan sighs into the phone. “To be quite honest, I hardly helped at all. Sadly, Greg’s mental health has deteriorated since last I saw him. The NOAA agent was hard-pressed to get anything out of him at all. What he did get were fragments of what sounded like a fairy tale. The NOAA doesn’t put much stock in magic.”
“Magic?”
“Like people disappearing before your very eyes.”
“Oh. Blending.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“So where is he now?”
“From what I hear, Reed is pressing charges for a gunshot wound. I think Greg might be headed to jail.”
“Do you think he’ll be back?”
There’s a long pause. “If not him, then someone else. Times are changing, Galen.”
Galen glances at me and nods. “Then we’ll just have to change with them.”
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
IT FEELS weird to latch on to Grandfather’s shoulders and press my stomach into his back. It seems too intimate, too familiar. We never do things like hug, or even pat each other on the back, so to hitch a piggyback ride is just a tad awkward.
But how could I refuse? He was just too excited. He practically wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not that I would deny him this one thing.
Especially this one thing.
Grandfather has become special to me in a short amount of time. A couple of nights each week, he sits with me on the beach after dinner, telling me stories of his childhood, of being groomed for kingship, of the times he spent with my grandmother before she died. Of how much my mother is just like me—even if we can’t see it. He’s teaching me how to make Syrena nets and how to make a squid ink itself without much effort.
Galen has had to begrudgingly allow room for Grandfather, to accept that he’ll be taking up some of my time now, too. And Grandfather has come to terms with the fact that I’m not a child—or a fingerling, as he calls it—and that Galen and I need time alone. Oh, at first he was inconsolable. In fact, he threw such a tantrum when he found out we were going to share the same off-campus apartment—separate bedrooms for crying out loud—that we were barely able to get our deposit in on time and almost missed out on our dorm rooms.
Separate dorm rooms. On opposite sides of the campus.
But today everything changes, and Grandfather seems to recognize that. To be honest, he seems almost contented.
So we glide through the water in silence, Grandfather and his self-assurance and me and my jitters and my waterproof pack. The ocean is calm today, in stark contrast to the churning vortex that is my stomach. I try to appreciate the fish around us, the pod of dolphins playing below us, the beauty of the canyon-like drop-off ahead of us. There is more seaweed floating around than usual, which means that a few extra minutes will be devoted to washing it out of my hair tonight. Seaweed is like the Silly String of the ocean—it never comes out.
But those are short, fleeting thoughts. All I can really think of is Galen—and how all of him will be mine in a matter of hours. The delicious contours of his lips when he smiles. The silho
uette of his body walking toward me in the moonlight. The way his embrace seems to be the one thing I’ve been missing all my life. Everything that is Galen will belong to me.
And ohmysweetgoodness, I’m nervous.
I feel Grandfather slow down and I peer around him. We’re almost there. The light from the sun becomes brighter, glistening off the surface like a sprinkling of diamonds. Just ahead of us, the ocean floor slants upward toward shallower water. In front of that, a mound of sand piles its way up to the surface, forming an island.
The island Galen picked for us.
Grandfather eases us to the surface, and I think my heart might stop. When we reach the top, I let out a breath I’d been holding for longer than I should. But I can’t help it.
This is the day.
The island is a masterpiece of tropical beauty. Palm trees form a protective wall around the lush forest farther inland. Coconuts freckle the beach sand where low tide leaves a dark wet stripe across the shore. Seagulls overhead squawk in a chorus, lazily gliding in the breeze instead of flapping their wings.
The island is perfect.
Grandfather takes us to the beach where Mom waits for us, waving like a crazed person. As if we could miss the giant pink flower in her hair. Or the immense boat she rented rocking gently a few yards away—it’s way bigger than we talked about. What she could possibly need a boat that humongous for is beyond me. It’s like a three-story house cradled in an overgrown canoe.
When I think I can touch bottom, I let go of Grandfather’s shoulders and fall slightly behind him.
He turns to me and smiles. “It was an honor to bring you to your island, Granddaughter.”
I nod, suddenly feeling excessively shy. “Thank you.” I don’t know if there’s something else I should say. This is a Syrena tradition. Traditionally, my father would be swimming with me to my mating ceremony, supposedly to impart last-minute words of wisdom or something like that. Kind of like how the father escorts the bride down the isle. But since Dad is gone, Grandfather volunteered. And he either forgot the words of wisdom, or he didn’t have any.