Of Poseidon (13 page)

Galen nods. “She always says that. It’s probably for the better to night, though.” They both wince as Rayna plants the ball of her foot in Emma’s back, splaying her across the sea of shards.

“I taught her that,” Toraf says.

“It’s a good move.”

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Neither of the combatants seem to care about the rain, 0—

lightning, or the whereabouts of their hostess. The storm billows

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in, drenching the furniture, the TV, the strange art on the wall.

No wonder Rachel didn’t want to see this. She fussed over this stuff for days.

“So, it kind of threw me when she said she didn’t like fi sh,” Toraf says.

“I noticed. Surprised me too, but everything else is there.”

“Bad temper.”

“The eyes.”

“That white hair is shocking though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I like it. Shut up.” Galen throws a sideways glare at his friend, whose grin makes him ball his fi sts.

“Hard bones and thick skin, obviously. There’s no sign of blood. And she took some pretty hard hits from Rayna,” Toraf continues neutrally.

Galen nods, relaxes his fi sts.

“Plus, you feel the pull—” Toraf is greeted with a forceful shove that sends him skidding on one foot across the slippery marble fl oor. Laughing, he comes back to stand beside Galen again.

“Jackass,” Galen mutters.

“Jackass? What’s a jackass?”

“Not sure. Emma called me that today when she was irritated with me.”

“You’re insulting me in human- talk now? I’m disappointed in you, minnow.” Toraf nods toward the girls. “Shouldn’t we break this up soon?”

“I don’t think so. I think they need to work this out on their

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own.”

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“What about Emma’s head?”

Galen shrugs. “Seems fi ne right now. Or she wouldn’t have bashed the window into pieces with her forehead.”

“Do you think she faked the whole thing?”

“No.” Galen shakes his head. “You should have seen her on the porch. Terrifi ed. More than terrifi ed. She even let me carry her into the house. That’s not like her. I mean, she wouldn’t let me carry her
backpack
at school. She tried to snatch it out of my hands. No, something happened. I just don’t know what.”

“Maybe she knocked everything back into place then. Or maybe Rayna did.”

“Could be.”

After a few minutes of watching the gore, Galen pulls off his shirt. “What are you doing?” Toraf says.

“We should head toward shore. If Rayna’s smart, she’ll lure her to the water where she has the advantage.” They can already see that Rayna is doing exactly that. She’s made it past the pool, her arms roped around Emma’s neck, dragging her as she kicks and bites.

“But what advantage does she have over Emma, if Emma’s one of us
and
of Poseidon, on top of that?”

“Rayna knows what she is. Emma doesn’t. But I think now’s as good a time as any for her to know.”

A bolt of lightning strikes close on the beach, startling the girls from the melee. Emma recovers fi rst and fi lls Rayna’s left eye with her knuckles, then slams a knee into her gut. When Rayna

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hunches over, Emma throws an uppercut to her chin, toppling her 0—

backward in the mud. Rayna rolls over and crawls toward the tide.

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“What if Rayna gets her in the water and takes off with her?” Toraf says, peeling off his shirt in the rain.

Galen rolls his eyes. “She’s almost as slow as you. I’ll catch her.” They plod down the waterlogged beach. Emma thinks she has the upper hand by dragging Rayna by the hair to the water.

“Looks like Emma’s toying with the idea of drowning my fragile little princess,” Toraf says, frowning.

“Why don’t you ever call me my prince?” Galen says, feign-ing insult.

“Shut up, my prince. There, is that better?” Galen laughs, but Toraf insists on defending his love. “I think everyone just misunderstands Rayna, you know? Sure, her pas-sion sometimes comes off as—”

“Viciousness?” Galen off ers.

“I was going to say, ‘rude.’ ”

“So, accusing Emma of killing her best friend was
rude
?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“It was evil and you know it.”

“I admit she could have been more tactful. But she was just trying to goad Emma into telling the truth—” Toraf stops short when they hear a splash. The dark head surfaces fi rst, then the white one. The girls struggle to fi nd their footing, bracing themselves against waist- high waves in knee- deep water.

The look on Rayna’s face is all he needs to see. Galen shakes his head. “Well, here we go.”

“You
are
one of us!” Rayna screeches, pointing at Emma.

But Emma doesn’t notice the index inches from her eyeball. She

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stares into the water as if searching for something.

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Toraf sticks his big toe in and nods to Galen. He can sense Emma.

Emma stays frozen as wave after wave smacks into her. She glances around her at the beach, past it to the house, then up at the storm. She wraps her arms around herself, settling her stare on Rayna as if she’s seeing her for the fi rst time. As if she doesn’t know where she is or how she got there.

Rayna’s lip quivers. She hugs herself like Emma. “But . . . but if you’re one of us . . . that means you really
could
have saved . . .” Rayna shakes her head. “You didn’t even try! You let her die!”

“I tried!” Emma sobs. “He wouldn’t let go. It was just a game to him! He wasn’t even hungry!”

Galen gasps.
She’s right.
The way the shark writhed and pulled.

The way it latched on to Chloe’s leg, instead of going for more meat. That shark tried to
play
with Emma. Chloe was just a means to an end. A sea- grass rope in a game of tug. Did Emma realize it at the time? Could she read the shark’s intentions, or did she think about it later? He shakes his head. These questions will have to wait— Emma is wavering like seaweed in high tide.

He sloshes into the water, wraps his arms around her. “It’s okay, Emma. I’ve got you.”

“What’s happening to me? Is it my head?”

He presses her cheek against his chest. “Shhh. Calm down, Emma. It’s not your head. This is your secret. What I know that you don’t.” He strokes her sopping hair, sets his chin on her head. When Rayna’s mouth drops open, he fl ashes her a warn-

-1—

ing look. Her eyes go wide. “What are you
doing
?” she mouths.

0—

He rolls his eyes.
I wish I knew.

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“What secret? I don’t understand. Not any of it,” Emma whimpers into the sanctity of his chest. Her whole body wracks with the force of her sobs.

“Emma,” he murmurs against her hair. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in.” Lifting her chin with the crook of his fi nger, he says, “But this isn’t half of it. I want to show you the rest. Will you let me?” He strokes her cheek with the back of his hand.

After a few deep breaths, she nods. He turns her around, wraps his arms around her waist, moves them away from Rayna.

He’s thought about this moment for days, trying to anticipate how Emma will react, how he should handle it. The possibility that she’ll be disgusted is very real to him now and more painful than he could ever imagine. She said she wouldn’t reject him anymore, but that was before he grew a fi n. This could be the last time he holds her, the last time he feels the fi re of her touch.

He wants to savor the moment, to make the moment so much more, but Rayna is looking at him like he’s grown an extra head.

He sighs, tightens his hold on Emma. No turning back now.

“Hold your breath,” he whispers in her ear.

“Hold my
breath
?” she gasps, peering down at the water.

He nods against her cheek, appreciating the silkiness of her skin, almost iridescent in the storm. “For now. But not always.

Are you holding it?”

She nods.

He catapults backward— and under.

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11

THIS CAN’T
be happening.
With his arms around my waist, I can’t see his face as he pulls me deeper and deeper. We slice through the water so fast I shouldn’t be able to keep my eyes open— but I can. We’re too far down to see the storm on the surface anymore, to hear the thunder reverberate. I should be freaking out.

But just like earlier on the couch, Galen’s arms feel like a rope, a lifeline, all knotted with muscles wound tight around me.

The deeper we go, the darker it gets, but my eyes seem to adjust. In fact, they
more
than adjust— my vision sharpens down here. At fi rst, it’s like someone turned off the lights— everything is just a shadow. But the shadows take shape, turning into fi sh or rocks. Then everything appears plain as day, as if someone turned the light back
on
. But we’re moving deeper, not closer to

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the surface. Where is the light coming from?

0—

And where are we going? We pass schools of fi sh that dart

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out of our way. Larger ones ease to the side as if we’re driving a sports car on the interstate. How is Galen doing this? He’s got his arms full of me, so he’s not using them to swim. Even if he were, no one can swim this fast. I peer down to our feet— only,
our
feet aren’t there. Just mine. And a fi n.

“Shark!” I scream, gulping down water, hoping he understands through the garble. We stop so fast, my hair whips ahead of us.

“What?” He tightens his grip and whirls us around in place. “I don’t see a shark, Emma. Where did you see it?”

“Down there— wait.” I look behind us, but it’s gone. Peering around Galen to see if it swam ahead us— though I’m pretty sure a speedboat couldn’t pass us— I begin to question the real strength of my vision down here. No shark. “I guess we scared it away— what the? . . . How are you doing that? How am
I
doing it?” This isn’t how underwater sounds. Every word we say is clear, as if I’m sitting on his lap in his living room. It’s not muffl

ed, like when you’re soaking in the bathtub and all you can hear is your heartbeat. There is no thrumming, no pressure in my ears. Just quiet.

“Doing what?” He faces me to him.

“I can hear you. You can hear me. And I
see
you, clear as day— but it’s not day, not even on shore. What’s happening, Galen?”

He sighs.
How can he sigh? We’re underwater.
“This is the secret Emma.” He nods toward our feet.

I follow his line of vision. And gasp. And gulp. And choke.

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The shark is back— and it has swallowed Galen’s entire lower

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body, all the way to his waist! It fl icks its fi n, fi ghting to stay attached to him.

“Not you, too!” I scream. I kick it as hard as I can with bare feet. Galen grimaces and releases me.

“Emma, stop kicking me!” Galen says, grabbing my shoulders.

“I’m not kicking you, I’m kicking . . . I’m kicking . . .

Ohmysweetgoodness.” Galen is the shark. The shark is Galen.

What I mean is, there is no shark. There’s only Galen. His upper body is still there, big arms, chiseled abs, gorgeous face.

But . . . his legs. Are. Gone. Not bit off , not swallowed. Nope, just
replaced
by a long silver fi n.
Nofreakingway.

I shake my head, wrench from his grasp. “Not happening.

This is not happening.” I propel away from him, but he follows.

“Emma,” he says, reaching for me. “Calm down. Come here.”

“Nope. You’re not real. This isn’t real. I’m ready to wake up now.” I look to the surface. “I said, I’m ready to WAKE UP

NOW!” I scream to myself, who must still be sleeping on Galen’s couch. But myself doesn’t wake up.

Galen glides closer without moving his arms. “Emma, you’re awake. This is your secret. What makes your eyes that color.”

“Stay right there.” I point at him in warning. “In case you haven’t noticed,
I
didn’t turn into a fi sh,
you
did. That would be
your
secret then, don’t you think?” He smirks. “We have the same secret.”

I shake my head.
Nope, nope, nope.

-1—

He nods, thoughtful. “Well, I guess that’s it then. The beach 0—