“Outswim lightning, can you?” Half of her sentence is above the surface, half is below. She giggles when her voice distorts for a brief moment.
“I’m not saying I can outswim lightning,” he says, pulling her in deeper and deeper. “But I’m not saying I can’t, either.” After all, the Gift of Triton makes me faster than any other Syrena alive. He knows if Emma were in danger, he’d give lightning a fair race.
For a split second, the tendrils of Emma’s hair interlace with the tendrils of the last of the sunlight tickling the surface of the spring, and suddenly she’s enveloped in a halo of gold warmth. It’s all Galen can do to remember how to breathe. If he’d known spring water could be this glorious, he would have sought it out sooner.
“What?” she says. “Is there something behind me?”
“Now I know why humans bring cameras everywhere they go. You never know when perfection will sneak up and show itself to you.”
She eases closer to him, but he keeps an arm’s length between her body and his. He turns away from her, hoping to redirect her attention from what he knows she will see as a rejection, and to focus it on what’s below them. “There’s a cave entrance down there. Do you see it?”
She nods. “Do you think it’s safe to go in?”
He laughs. “Since when were you concerned about your own safety?”
“Oh, shut it,” she grumbles as they near the opening.
Still, he motions for her to stay behind him. “If anything is down here, then I want it to be busy eating me while you’re getting away, angelfish.”
“That’s not your decision.”
Galen pauses. He knows it takes a moment for Emma’s eyes to adjust to the darkness of the deep water, and when they enter the cave completely, even the occasional glow of lightning from the surface won’t be able to find them. “Better?” he says after a few moments.
She answers him by trying to swim ahead. He reins her in to his side, closer than is wise, and yet not as close as he’d like. The heat from her body seems to jump at him, even through the cold current and his thick skin. And since when did heat send shivers through me? “Fine,” he says, more exasperated with himself than with her. “We’ll go together. But I swear by Triton’s trident, if you try to get in front—”
“Side by side is always okay with me, Galen.” Before she can come up with another smart remark, she stops them both. “Look. That is amazing.”
He follows her line of sight to a row of pointed rocks ahead of them. It reminds him of the entrance to the Cave of Memories. All the rocks spearing up from the ground look like teeth, ready and able to chew anyone brave enough to swim through them.
And if Emma is impressed with this, he can’t wait until she sees all the caves have to offer. Not only this spring-fed cave, but all of them. The ones in the deepest part of the ocean where the only inhabitants are the marine life that create their own lights to attract their prey. Maybe one day, after things have settled a bit, he’ll take her to the Cave of Memories. She would truly love that.
“This is the part in a horror movie where you’re supposed to turn back,” she says as they pass the first row of “teeth.” Her voice is light, but when he stops, she clings to his arm. “What? What’s wrong?”
Gently, he pushes her away from him and drifts a few feet backward. “Do you feel … heavier in this water?”
“No. Why? Do I look heavier?”
He rolls his eyes.
“Well, then what do you mean by heavier?”
He flicks his tail back and forth, watching as the wake stirs up some muck. “It feels different here. It takes more effort to get through the water. You haven’t noticed?”
She shrugs. “A little, I guess. Maybe it’s the freshwater. In saltwater, everything is more buoyant.”
“But you don’t feel a difference?”
“I don’t think I would have noticed if you hadn’t mentioned it.”
He retrieves her hand and laces his fingers back through hers. “I’m that distracting, huh?”
She smiles. “You have no idea.”
He leans in, intending for the smallest of kisses on her lips. Just something to tide him over, really. Just an innocent, controlled kiss, nothing like the raw passion he almost couldn’t contain this afternoon. At least, that’s what he intends.…
And then it hits him. A faint thrum of electricity that comes and goes. Prickly and intrusive one second, then fluid and soft the next. There’s no way that’s lightning.
It can’t be. He’s felt lightning in the water before. It’s almost like a rogue wave that sweeps through, and before you can blink, it’s gone—passing through your body without permission or apology. Yes, it’s tingly. But not like this.
This feels like … But can it really be?
He shakes his head to himself. No. There’s no way that I’m sensing a pulse.
Because Syrena do not have pulses like that. A Syrena pulse is strong, not like the watered-down thrumming he barely feels against his skin now.
Then what could it be?
7
IT’S A rare thing to see panic on Galen’s face. So when alarm takes over his expression and his entire body tightens like a drawn rubber band, I’m pretty much on the verge of freaking out. Especially since we’re in the stomach of a foreign cave with sharp teeth, and every time the thunder rumbles behind us, it sounds like said cave is hungry. And by Galen’s face, he’s also thinking we might be the appetizer. “Galen, I know you’re busy being all heavy and everything, but you have to tell me what’s going on, rightfreakingnow.”
Why is it that when someone clamps their hand on your mouth, it makes you want to scream? “Be very still, angelfish,” he whispers against the back of his own hand as he tightens it over my lips. A scream builds up inside me, rapping on my vocal chords to set it free. Swallowing doesn’t help. “I … I think I sense something.”
“Something?” I say, but through his hand it sounds like “Umfin?” I thought Syrena could only sense each other, not objects or animals or whatever other “things” Galen could be talking about. Already, this hand-over-mouth thing has grown old. Slowly, I peel his fingers from my face to show him I’m not going to do anything rash. No sudden movements, no loud noises, no swimming ahead.
Definitely no swimming ahead.
“What do you mean, ‘something’?” I hiss.
Galen won’t tear his eyes away from the tunnel ahead of us. Just a few more feet and the cave takes a sharp turn to the right. To think we were actually about to go down there, into the bowels of this place. “I sense … something,” he says quietly. “It’s not Syrena, of that I’m certain. I’ve never sensed this before.” He tucks me behind him, and for once, I let him. “Whatever it is, it’s right around that corner. It’s getting closer.”
I press my forehead into his broad back. “Are you trying to freak me out? Because it’s working.”
He chuckles and I relax a little. “I’m not trying to freak you out, I promise. It’s just … interesting. You’re not curious to see what it is?”
That’s when I notice that we’re moving. Ahead. Since when did Galen become curious? He’s usually the one pulling me back. “But you don’t know what it is. What if it’s dangerous? What if it’s like, Jaws’s prehistoric cousin or something?”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I admit to myself that I do sound a bit panicky. My voice slams against the cave walls, and when it returns to me, I can hear the distinct rattle of hysteria in it. I peer over his shoulder. “Do you see it yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Should I call for backup?”
Galen pauses. “Actually, have you even seen any fish in here? I haven’t. That’s weird.”
It’s not weird; it’s terrifying. There should be fish here. But so far, there’s not a single living thing in this hull of rock. Which probably means a natural predator has set up shop in here.
“Hello?” a voice calls from around the bend.
br /> So the natural predator here is male and speaks English. My first thought is a scuba diver or at the very least a snorkeler. But the words are clear, without the muffling of a mask or mouthpiece. And wouldn’t he need a light down here? Yet there is no light striking through the water. Or maybe my eyes have adjusted enough to where I wouldn’t notice.
A large swarm of fish burst around the turn of the cave and blow past us. Before they get too far, I call after them. “Where are you going? Who’s chasing you? Come back.” I also want to say, Take me with you, but that wouldn’t be very brave.
The entire group comes back and encircles Galen and me. The fish here are not as colorful as they can be in the saltwater, but they’re still interesting to look at—and apparently they think I am, too. Some have stripes and razorlike fins. Others are long and speckled with pink bellies. Then there are short, paunchy-looking fish with spots like a leopard. But despite their differences, they all have one thing in common: They understand the Gift of Poseidon.
It takes me a moment to realize that Galen isn’t looking at the halo of fish around us anymore. He’s looking straight ahead, his jaw clenched. “Who are you?” he says.
The boy swimming toward us cautiously is muscular and, apparently, bold. His blond hair is a bit longer than Galen’s, maybe shoulder length, but I can’t tell because it floats above his head like a fan. He eases closer, wearing only blue swimming trunks and an easy smile, despite the fact that Galen feels taut under my fingertips, ready to spring. Behind him is a rope snaking through the water, and at the end of it, a bunch of dead fish pulled together by the rope through each of their gills.
Either this boy has a death wish or his brain doesn’t have the ability to process fear because he drifts steadily toward us, as if on a current. He could be our age, or very close to it. He wears no snorkel, no breathing equipment, and carries no light. Not in a particular hurry to get to the surface for air, either.
My own breath stalls.
“You have the Gift,” he says, cocking his head toward me. He’s not asking. He’s not even surprised. If anything, he’s pleased.
My legs jerk beneath me as if I’ve forgotten how to swim.
“And you are?” Galen says. Which I’m grateful for, because right at the moment, my mouth won’t form words.
I realize then that I can sense him, too. Not like I sense Galen or Rayna or Toraf. It’s different. It’s more a faint sweeping caress, a phantom touch. Maybe that’s what I thought was lightning. But the truth is, I felt it as soon as we stepped in the water. Before a vein of lightning ever splayed across the sky.
The boy shows us his hands, that they’re empty. “I’m Reed.” A fish swims in front of us, blocking our view. “Oh, come on!” Reed says. “I’ve told you to stay out of people’s faces. Go find someone else to bother, or you’ll be on the end of this rope.” He looks back at me. “You don’t have to be so polite with them, you know. They’re an unruly bunch.”
My heart drops to my feet when the fish scatter. But it’s probably because he startled them. Not because they understand what he’s saying. Right?
All the fish are gone, except for a long pink-bellied one who swims to Reed with familiarity, like a dog would approach its beloved owner. “I call him Vac, short for Vacuum, which is exactly what he does when he gets around minnows. He’s a serial killer, this one.”
Galen is not amused. “What are you?”
I feel it’s a valid question, but Reed thinks otherwise. “Well that’s not good manners, now is it?”
“You’re a Half-Breed,” Galen says. He tucks his arm behind him, a visible show of protection. A shudder runs through me, but I stamp it down before it bubbles to the surface. A Half-Breed? This is not happening.
But … It’s so obvious, isn’t it?
Blond hair.
Pale skin.
Violet eyes.
No fin.
In an underwater cave with no breathing equipment, bonding with fish.
Reed’s smirk reveals a tiny dimple in the corner of his mouth. “And you’re especially observant.”
Nofreakingway. Another Half-Breed. Like me. How? When? What? Holy …
“How did you find us?” Galen barks.
I still can’t figure out the danger here. Reed is not armed. And so far, he hasn’t shown us any aggression. In fact, he seems pretty much amused by us.
“Find you? That implies I was looking, now doesn’t it?” He eases toward us some more, and I feel Galen tense up. “Ironic, but I was trying to get away from strangers.”
I know Galen doesn’t want me to talk to this boy. It’s one of those unspoken things where body language—the fact that he’s still pushing me behind him—is the greatest communicator.
But Galen doesn’t always get what he wants. “Where did you come from?” I say, maneuvering around Galen. I figure that’s a good place to start. He grabs my wrist, so I stop, waiting for Galen to be comfortable that I’ve come out from hiding.
Reed offers me the kind of smile that says, At your service. “I’m from Neptune. I didn’t catch your name?”
“She didn’t give it to you,” Galen says, tightening his grip.
“Emma,” I say, not daring to look back at Galen. “My name is Emma. Are there others like you?”
“That’s an odd question to ask,” he says. Curiosity drips from his handsome features.
I guess it is odd. I mean, if there are two of us Half-Breeds, there are bound to be more, right? But why? How? I shake my head. In his statement is a question, and answering one way or the other would be a half lie. I knew there was something here in Tennessee. Grandfather was adamant that Galen and I travel here, that there was something of interest I’d want to see. Now I understand why he didn’t tell me what it was, why he let me find out on my own.
Grandfather knew I would tell Galen. And somehow he knew Galen would not like it.
“How far away is Neptune? Can you take us there?” I blurt.
Reed is already nodding even as Galen grabs my wrist. “Emma,” he growls. “We don’t know him.”
I turn on him. “Antonis sent us here to find it. I think it’s pretty clear why.” Immediately I feel guilty for chastising him in front of a perfect stranger.
“Why wouldn’t he just tell us about it and let us decide for ourselves?”
And suddenly the guilt is gone. At first I don’t answer. Anger percolates in my gut. Because Galen doesn’t mean, “let us decide for ourselves.” He means “let me decide for both of us.” And I’m not okay with that.
I turn back to Reed. “I’ve decided for myself that I want to see Neptune. Will you take me?”
8
GALEN’S FOCUS darts between the two-lane road ahead and the stranger in the rearview mirror. Reed takes up a good portion of the backseat, leaning his elbow on the middle console that separates the driver from the passenger. The passenger being an all-too-attentive Emma.
“It’s about twenty more miles ahead. There won’t be any signs for Neptune. We were only recently added to GPS. Like, this year,” Reed tells Emma. He seems almost proud of this unimpressive feat. And so does Emma.
“And there are more Half-Breeds in Neptune?” she says, not even trying to hide her excitement.
Reed answers with a smirk.
Galen feels as though he’s entered a bad dream, one that he can’t wake up from. He silently curses Antonis for his involvement in this. What was he thinking, sending us to a town full of Half-Breeds, whose very existence breaks the law? Right when we’re trying to earn back the trust of our kingdoms, no less! And he places Emma right in the middle of it all.
What’s worse, Emma seems to be completely comfortable with it.
“It’s a small town,” Reed concedes. “But there are full-blooded Syrena there, too. And humans. Humans who keep our secret.”
Galen whips a glance at him. “How is that possible?” And how have Trackers not discovered this cache of deserters? Especially Toraf, who can sense Sy
rena anywhere in the world. Or does the freshwater affect his Tracking, the way it affects Galen’s ability to sense?
The only other community mix of Half-Breeds and Syrena Galen has ever heard of is Tartessos—which was destroyed by General Triton thousands of years ago. The story goes that all of General Poseidon’s Half-Breed children were destroyed, and all the full-blooded Syrena returned to the oceans never again to return to land.
How could another community have started without the knowledge of the kingdoms? Who are these stray full-blooded Syrena who’ve initiated another generation—or more—of Half-Breeds?
Reed pauses, scrutinizing Galen in the rearview. “Look, I appreciate the ride back to town and all. But I’ve answered all your questions, and so far, you haven’t offered any information about yourselves. Doesn’t seem very fair.”
Emma nods. “What would you like to know?”
Galen casts her a warning glare, but Emma pretends not to notice. In fact, she’s trying at all costs not to look at him at all.
“Well,” Reed says, leaning forward just enough to make Galen want to readjust his jaw with an uppercut, “I know you’re from the ocean. At least, he is. You’re obviously a descendant of an ocean-dwelling Syrena.”
Emma’s mouth drops open.
Reed shrugs. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not psychic or anything. Ocean dwellers send different pulses than freshwater Syrena. The best we can figure is that over time the lack of salt in the water changed the way we sense each other. That somehow our bodies adapted to being in freshwater.” He studies Emma more closely, if that were possible. “But my question is, Why have you come? And how can I get you to stay?”
Galen nearly fails to brake for the car slowing in front of them. “We’re not staying.” He doesn’t miss Emma’s frown.
“It’s a long story,” Emma says, melting into a smile for Reed. “My mother is Syrena; my father was human. I grew up on land. My grandfather visited your town once, I think. He’s the one who sent us here.”
Antonis must have visited Neptune. That’s how Reed already knew that we sense each other differently in freshwater. What else did Antonis share with these strangers?