Of Neptune (The Syrena Legacy) (20 page)

Tyrden stops immediately. Galen uses his hesitation to jerk the chair back to him, making quick work of the rope with the knife. While Tyrden is distracted by the blade in his hand, Galen sweeps his fin across the floor. His tail connects painfully with Tyrden’s hard boots, lifting the older Syrena off his feet and onto his back. His head slams against the floor in a sickening thump.

Galen lets out a grunt of agony. His tail is definitely twisted or bent or both. For several intense moments, he waits for his captor to get up. With a sense of dread, he watches the steady rise and fall of Tyrden’s chest for longer than he should. He can’t help but be cautious. This could be another mind game.

Galen makes the snap decision to change to human form. Keeping an eye on Tyrden, he tests his balance on each leg. His left ankle throbs with a deep ache but can still hold his weight. Everything else is in working order.

Picking up what’s left of his jeans, Galen takes the longest piece and wraps it around his waist, trying to at least cover up. He uses the pads of his feet to tread quietly toward where Tyrden lies.

Galen squats down slowly, alert for any sudden movements. He places the tip of the blade on Tyrden’s chest, where his heart beats the strongest. The Syrena does nothing. Galen rears back and slaps the unconscious Syrena across the face.

Tyrden doesn’t wake up.

27

WE CRASH
through the woods in a sort of irreverent way. It’s as if Reed is taking care to disturb every plant and animal in our wake. Which I suppose is good if we’re looking for someone who needs our help.

And bad if we’re looking to avoid bears.

“We don’t want to sneak up on anybody,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Not a bear, not someone who doesn’t want to be found.” I didn’t think of it like that.

By now I’m out of breath and a bit irritated at our speed, which I know is unreasonable because it helps us cover as much ground as possible. “He wants to be found,” I blurt.

Without warning, Reed stops and faces me. “I don’t buy that. Not if he’s in these woods, Emma. If he’s here, if he’s been this close all along, then he doesn’t want to be found.” He takes a step closer to me. “And if he doesn’t want to be found, then what?” He pulls me to him. “But here
I
am, Emma. Here
I
am not hiding from you, not running away, not pitching fits.”

It’s then I realize that Reed isn’t stomping around for the heck of it, and not even because he doesn’t want to surprise a sleeping cheetah or whatever. He’s trampling his way through the forest like a human machete because he’s mad. Not mad exactly, not with the torment in his eyes.

He’s frustrated. And he’s taking it out on nature.

But now it looks like he’s about to direct it all back to its source. Me. “I would never have left you, Emma. He’s a fool to have done it. And selfish. He thinks he’s too good for the little ol’ town of Neptune. And that means he thinks he’s too good for you.”

“That’s not what he—”

“And how are we supposed to know what he really thinks? Because he isn’t here, Emma. I am. I have been all along.” He lowers his head. His lips are impossibly close to mine.

Reed smells good. The mix of his usual scent mingles with the smell of the earthy forest and the sweetness of some honeysuckle that he must have brushed through. “I was wrong, Emma. Kissing me doesn’t make up your mind. It’s not end all, say all. It’s not choosing, at least it doesn’t have to be. Give me permission, Emma. Let me have a chance.”

My hands tighten on his arms and I swallow. Once. Twice. I can’t blink. I can only stare into him.

“Give me permission,” he whispers. “It’s already too late for me anyway.”

Did I just nod?
Surely not, not enough for a definite yes. But I must have, because he’s leaning in, brushing his lips against mine. They are soft lips, more gentle than I’d imagined.

And I consider the universe. I consider what this could be the start of, what this could be the end of. I consider who I am, where I’ve been, and how I got here. I remember Chloe, my dad, running into Galen on the beach, throwing Rayna through hurricane-proof glass, making Toraf jump out of a helicopter, bringing a wall of fish to an underwater Tribunal. I remember tingles and kisses and blushes and inside jokes and winks and knowing glances.

And none of it, not any of it, has anything to do with this kiss.

So I stop it.

Reed seems to know. That I’m not just stopping this kiss. I’m stopping any chance we might have together. That I’ve made my choice. That it’s not about water or land, Neptune or New Jersey or the Atlantic Ocean. It’s about choosing between Reed and Galen.

And I’ve chosen Galen.

He nods, backing away slowly. “All right then.” He sucks in a breath of air. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

He rakes a hand through his hair and holds up his other, halting me. “No, it’s fine. No need for apologies. That’s what I wanted to know, right? That was the whole point. And now I know.”

We embrace a perpetual silence then, as if letting the cosmos settle from our decisive kiss. After a while, the peaceful quiet turns into tangible awkward. I’m about to announce as much, but a bush rustles behind Reed.

Mr. Kennedy steps out. “Oh, goodness, you two gave me an awful fright.”

Reed is almost successful at not rolling his eyes. Almost. “Hi, Mr. Kennedy.”

The older man smiles. He must just be starting for the day, because his lab coat is still immaculate and pressed and smudge free. The smear of white sunscreen on his nose hasn’t absorbed in yet. “Reed, Emma. Lovely to see you two again this morning.” But by his tone, it isn’t lovely to see us. In fact, I’ve never heard Mr. Kennedy sound … egotistical before. And I’ve never ever seen him sneer. “I’m so happy you decided not to gallivant south of the river, though there is a mother black bear and her two cubs close by in that direction.” He points, letting his thumb linger in the air. Something is off. “Of course, with Davy Crocket here, you very well might have gone against my advice to stay north of the river. But, Emma, you talked him into listening, didn’t you? You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Emma?”

And then Mr. Kennedy pulls a gun on us.

28

THINGS COULD
be worse.

The sun is rising, giving Galen a general sense of direction as he makes his way through the forest. He has no idea where he is—or if he’s headed the right way—but the logical thing to do would be to find a water source. In water, he’ll be able to sense other pulses around him and trace them back to Neptune.

Back to Neptune, where he hopes he’ll find Emma.

He slows his pace just long enough to bring up Grom’s name on his cell phone. It’s difficult to focus on multiple tasks when both of your hands are full, he decides. In one hand he holds Tyrden’s large knife; in the other, his cell phone. Dialing with his thumb and only half his concentration, he speeds up again, trying to put as much distance between himself and Tyrden as possible.
No telling how long he’ll be out
.

Galen had taken care to use the remnants of rope to tie Tyrden’s hands and feet together, but he’s no expert in tying effective knots, and Tyrden is undeniably strong—not to mention too heavy to carry through the woods. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left him behind at all.

The phone rings and rings, but Grom doesn’t answer. Galen hangs up and tries again. And again. Finally he leaves a message on voice mail. “Grom. Call me back. Don’t go to Neptune. Just … Just call me back!”

After a few more minutes, he stops and rests against a tree, trying to put most of his weight on his right ankle. He works his left in a circular motion in an effort to stretch out the soreness. Triton’s trident, but he’s lucky there are no breaks, that he came through the scuffle without more alarming injuries. Groaning, he points his big toe at the ground to stretch out his aching calf muscle—another excellent reason to find a water source. It had felt good to shape a fin, even with the ropes constricting around his tail. He stands on the other foot then, repeating the stretches.

That’s when he hears shouting behind him.

Shouting. And dogs.

Rachel told him once that humans use dogs to sniff out other humans when they’re missing—or wanted. All these dogs need to find him is an item from his SUV or his hotel room, and they will be able to hone in on his scent. Galen pushes away from the tree and breaks into a jog, grimacing with each stride.
Has Tyrden already sent a search party after me?

He flies past trees and bushes, scraping his forehead on low-hanging branches and reopening his busted lip on one of them. It’s difficult for his swollen eyes to adjust to his pace and after a time, one of them closes altogether.
Perfect
.

Still, he presses onward as fast as he can, the sun both helping him and hurting him as he becomes more visible in the woods. In the distance, a glint of white stops him in his tracks. It’s the unmistakable hair of a Half-Breed.

Galen crouches down, crunching twigs and sticks and leaves beneath his heavy, clumsy feet. Fish were not meant to be stealthy on land, he decides.
But there could be more behind me than there are in front of me
.
If I can just sneak past this one …

He resorts to crawling on the forest floor, ducking behind anything that will shield him and cursing himself for making so much noise in the process. When he’s several fin lengths ahead of the Half-Breed, he hears a new sound.

The roar of rushing water. He takes off in a sprint—or as close to a sprint as he can manage—and heads toward the noise of his salvation. In his haste, he drops the knife he’d confiscated from Tyrden.
I can’t go back for it. I won’t need it if I can just reach the water.

Behind him, the Half-Breed calls out to him. “Galen? Is that you? Stop!”

Not in a million years.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches the rocky bank of the river. Hastily, he removes the remnants of his jeans and ties them farther up on his waist to use as a covering for later. His muscles scream at him to change, to shift to his fin. But he’s afraid of what he’ll find when he does. Back in the shed he was in fight mode. Now, his fin may not hold up as well.

Still, there are more voices behind him, and they’re growing louder by the second, calling him by name. He wades in. If they haven’t spotted him yet, they will soon. Just as he’s about to dive in, his phone rings on the bank behind him, where he had to ditch it in favor of escape; the water would destroy it anyway.

But there is no time to go back.

As Galen dives in, he hears a gunshot in the distance.

29

REED ISN’T
behind me.

Reed isn’t behind me.

I’m too terrified to scream, which will only alert Mr. Kennedy to my location. So I keep running. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what happened to Reed. I pray and beg and pray for him not to be shot. But I’m not brave enough to turn back.

Suddenly, voices tickle my ear. Voices and barking and shouting. Hunters, maybe? There is a chance they could be with Mr. Kennedy, but so far I haven’t seen Mr. Kennedy warm up to anyone else. I have to assume he’s working alone—on whatever he’s working on. And couldn’t it be another search party looking for Galen?

“Help me!” I screech, changing my direction slightly. “Help me—I’m over here!” Voices, shouting, barking. The roar of the river. If my heart beats any faster, my chest will explode. At this point that would be mercy. “Help me!”

My knees almost give out as I recognize the sheriff of Neptune standing barefoot on the water’s edge. “Sheriff Grigsby!”

He turns toward me, startled. Bet he’s even more surprised when I pitch myself into his arms and cling for what’s left of life. “Sheriff Grigsby. Mr. Kennedy. Reeeeeed,” I cry into his chest.

“Emma, what are you doing here? Do you know how dangerous it is to be in the woods by yourself?” The sheriff would sound really stern and uncaring if not for the fact that he’s shaking beneath the security of his uniform.

I shake my head. “Not … Alone … Mr. Kennedy…” I’ve never been so breathless in my entire life, not even underwater. “Took … Reed …
Hehasagun.
”

Sheriff Grigsby stiffens in my arms. I’m beginning to think I have that effect on all males. “Did you say … You’re saying Mr. Kennedy … What are you saying, Emma? Take a second to breathe. That’s right. Calm down. In … Out … Good.”

The mini Lamaze session does help. My heart beat slows to just outside the range of palpitations. “I was in the woods with Reed, and Mr. Kennedy found us. He grabbed Reed, held a gun to him. I ran and he started shooting at me.”

Grigsby nods vigorously. “We heard gunfire. Tell me where you were. Where you saw Kennedy.”

“I don’t know if Reed … Reed might be…”

And if he is, it’s all my fault. I’m the one who insisted on coming out here, who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Mr. Kennedy was right: I played right into his hands. But what hands? How was I supposed to know that there were even hands to be played into?

Grigsby grabs my wrist and starts hauling me away from the river. He stops briefly to put on his shoes, then there I am again, trampling through the woods. At least, this time I’m with someone who’s armed.

“We saw Galen,” he says abruptly. “He ran from us. Jumped in the river.”

I dig my heels into the dirt. “You saw Galen? Was he okay? Where is he now?” What? Just when I think I’m catching my breath …

The sheriff shakes his head and pulls me forward with a jerk. “I told you, he jumped in the river. We can’t sense him anymore. He … He’s a very fast swimmer, isn’t he?”

I nod. “Very.”

“As soon as we get back to town, I’ll send some Trackers to the river. If we can spare any.”

I close my eyes against the frustration.
Spare any. Of course
. Now that Reed has been taken, all of Neptune’s resources will be allocated toward finding him instead of Galen, who, from the looks of it, obviously doesn’t want to be bothered. I know that’s as it should be. Reed is in danger and Galen—well, Galen is obviously healthy enough to run and hide.