Of Neptune (The Syrena Legacy) (16 page)

Because on my pale skin, black eyes shoot to a whole new level of hideous when they heal.

Apparently Toby has left us completely to ourselves. I stay close behind Reed, but my eyes don’t adjust well in this crummy freshwater, and I have to give in and take his hand again. He leads me through a series of what I can’t really call caves—they remind me of slides at a water park, only they’re ridged, filled with water, and we’re swimming through them instead of sliding. Sometimes the space gets cramped, and I’m forced to press my body against Reed’s to fit, or else risk bumping my head on low-hanging stalactites.

I notice that during these close encounters, Reed seems to hold his breath. Then I freak out a little on the inside, because I hold mine, too. I try to push the thought aside, and not play the “What does this all mean?” game.

Because it means nothing except Reed is a member of the opposite sex and we’re in a state of undress and I’m not totally unaware of it. We’ve got skin touching, for crying out loud. And, yes, I’ve noticed he’s attractive, blah blah blah. But that’s all it means.

So then why do I feel ashamed of simply being aware of him?

“Emma,” Reed says, startling me from mortification. “It’s wider now. You can, uh … You can swim on your own. If you want.”

I clear my throat of the nothing that’s in there. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.”

My eyes are adjusted well enough to see his small, satisfied grin. Or maybe I just imagine that I see it. Either way, he knows he’s unnerved me, and I know he knows it. “It’s not too far ahead now,” he says. “And that’s the last of the tight spots. If you really concentrate, you can sense others farther down. They’re kind of the guardians of the cave.”

But all I can really concentrate on is the fact that in a few minutes we will be out of the water, away from each other and physical contact and hopefully whatever source of light is in this cave won’t be bright enough to expose the blush I know is smoldering on my freaking cheeks.

Then I remember something I can concentrate on. “Toby said you shaped a fin. Is that true?”

Reed glances at me but keeps moving. I’ve caught him off guard. “I’m going to beat the fool out of that kid when I see him next.”

“So it is true.”

He sighs and halts us. I really can see his face, though not all the details, but now I’m pretty sure I did catch a spy of a grin a few seconds ago. And I’m mortified all over again. “I didn’t do it on purpose, though, is the thing,” he says. “So I can’t show you how to do it or whatever. It just sort of … happened.”

“Tell me.”

“I was about thirteen. Doc Schroeder says it had to do with premature hormone development. He’s a real doctor, you know. He’s mated to a Syrena, Jessa, and they have a son, Fin.” He shakes his head. “Can you believe they named their son Fin?”

I take Reed by the shoulders and give him a good shake. “Hello? You in there?
Tell me how it happened
.” I can tell by the way he glances ahead of us that we’re close to the Huddle. And I can tell he doesn’t divulge this story to just anyone.

“Okay. Sorry.” Reed actually backs away from me then, and I almost laugh, but I’m afraid that if I do, he’ll get distracted again. “So one day I’m not feeling good, so I stay home from school. I’m not sick, not exactly, but I definitely don’t feel like going to school. Which, since I never miss school—that’s kind of a big deal—”

“Ohmysweetgoodness!”

“Okay, okay, sorry. So whenever I don’t feel good, I like to go fishing. It’s quiet and relaxing and … Anyway, I stand up for something in the boat, and I notice my legs hurt. I mean they
hurt,
like I had the flu or something. I tried stretching it out, because that’s what it felt like I should do—stretch.” He makes a show of bending slightly to stretch his legs. “Then I remember that’s what Dad said it feels like when he’s been out of the water too long. So I jump in the creek. As soon as I do, my legs start to twist and bend, and it feels hot, like my bones are melting together, but it doesn’t hurt. Not much, anyways. It feels good, actually, in a painful sort of way.” Reed looks at me incredulously, as if it’s happening all over again. I can tell by his face that the experience would have unleashed Scared Senseless Emma. “So my skin gets real thin and stretchy, and it covers over my legs—which, by the way, twisted around themselves twice. But I don’t shape a fin. Not a normal one, anyway. It’s sickly looking. Like the whole length of it looks like the skin of a chicken after it’s been plucked. Not smooth and badass, like Dad’s. You can still see the knobs of my knees. I looked like a freak.”

“Are you sure it was all that bad?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Absolutely. It was grotesque, Emma. I’ve never tried to do it again.”

“Have you ever felt the need to stretch it out like that since?”

“One other time, a few months later. Never again though.”

I wrap my arms around myself. “So … So our skin stretches like that?”

Reed grimaces. “According to Doc Schroeder, the skin cells of a full-blood Syrena are thick and stretchy. That’s part of why things don’t penetrate their skin as well. It kind of repels it, because of the flexibility. Half-Breeds inherit half the thickness, half the stretchiness, or whatever. That’s why it pulled so thin over my legs and made me look like an anorexic chicken shark. I’m serious, Emma. You look like you’re naked. And dying of something.”

I can’t help but laugh. He just looks so traumatized, rehashing how he came to sprout a bony, icky fin.

I’m pretty sure Dr. Milligan would be interested in this development. Maybe he and Doc Schroeder could get together over tea or crumpets or whatever doctors get together over. I’m sure they’d love to compare notes. But … I’m not sure Neptune would be willing to accept Dr. Milligan just yet. They do have their stranger filter on full effect.

I can tell Reed needs some comfort or a distraction or something to help bring him back. “You expected a kiss in exchange for a story about the diseased fin of a chicken?” This does the trick. Unfortunately. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Without warning, he leans close to me, excessively close, so that barely any water can pass between our mouths. And my guilt about being “aware” of him knows no bounds.

He uses his thumb to trace the outline of my cheek. My instinct is to move back, but I get the feeling that he’ll just ease closer. “Do I get one? Because if you’ve chosen me, Emma, tell me right now.”

I close my mouth abruptly.

With that he withdraws, gently taking my wrist and pulling me back in the direction of the Huddle. Which is good, because Toby has come back for us.

“What is taking you two so long? Everyone is waiting.” The twang in Toby’s voice has devolved into a full country accent. “And anyways, I already told the sheriff about Galen, Emma. They’re getting together a search thingy right now.”

As if he spoke the sheriff into existence, a party of Syrena and Half-Breed—and one human with scuba gear—appear from around the next bend of tunnel. The Syrena at the head swims directly up to Reed. “Your father’s waiting for you, son.” Then he turns to Emma, and his face softens. “You must be Emma. I’m ashamed we haven’t met yet.” He extends his hand to me and I take it. “My name is Waden Grigsby. I’m the sheriff of Neptune and this lot behind me is my deputies. Except for the guy in the gear. He’s lost.”

My mouth pops open and Waden chuckles. “Just kidding. That’s Darrel. He’s with us.” Then his face melts into all seriousness again. “Toby told us you’re concerned that your friend—Grady is it?—is missing. Any idea where he would have gone?”

“His name is Galen,” I say with more irritation than I should. He’s leaving a party full of good company to help me, after all. “And he
is
missing. He wouldn’t just leave me here alone like this.” Right?
Right?

“Were you two fighting?”

My lips pinch together as I try to stave off a full-blown scowl. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

Sheriff Grigsby gives an apologetic nod. “The thing is, if he left after a fight, then maybe he did intend to stay gone. Not that I know your friend or anything,” he says quickly. “It’s just that sometimes people need their space to cool off, so to speak. Now if he ran to the store for some milk and never came back, that’s quite a different scenario. You can see why I would need to ask then, right?”

Ugh. I do see, but Galen is too responsible—and thoughtful—to pull something like this. And helping a complete stranger understand that is like trying to seize a crab with your armpit. Not happening.

When I have no answer, the sheriff continues soothingly. “Now don’t you worry, Emma. Go to the Huddle, enjoy yourself, and I bet by morning we’ll have found your friend. In the meantime though, young lady, you should know that you’re not as ‘alone’ as you think. You belong here.” Then he asks me all sorts of questions about Galen’s vehicle, which way we came from, if I thought he would take the same path home. And with that, Waden and his ‘lot,’ including Scuba Darrell, squeeze past us one by one. I watch until they disappear from sight, until I can’t sense them anymore. I have no confidence in them at all.

Because maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Galen did leave me behind. Maybe I misjudged him like I have so many times before. It’s not as if he doesn’t have the whole freaking planet on his mind right now. What with our fight, his grieving over Rachel, his irritation at finding a certain illegal town called Neptune. Why
wouldn’t
he need some time to step away and deal?

And what will he do if they find him? Be mad at me for sending them? Leave again? Maybe I should have left things alone.

“They’ll find him,” Reed says softly. And all of a sudden, that’s what I’m afraid of.

22

THE ROOM
is a whirpool of blur. Occasionally Galen will catch glimpses of Tyrden’s back at the open door, of the men he’s talking to. Is Reder there? He’s not sure.

He only hears a few of the booted steps it takes for the group of strangers to approach the bed. The newcomers make no sense when they speak, are only capable of babbling. Sometimes they utter a coherent word. Those times the word is “search” or “Huddle” or “missing.” Then there is “out of sight.” The word “stubborn”—that’s from Tyrden’s mouth.

Emma’s face flashes across Galen’s mind, but he can’t keep it there, can’t make it stick.
Who are they talking about? Is Emma missing?
Something isn’t right, but it won’t present itself.
I have to find Emma. I have to protect her from these strangers.

Then the strangers disappear. Suddenly, he’s in the water.

He can escape. But every time he tries to swim deeper and deeper to safety, something grabs his fin and pulls him back to the surface, something stronger than he is. When he looks back, he stops fighting.

Rachel. He’s pulled her too far in, she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, why isn’t she breathing? Her foot is no longer bound by the air cast. “Swim,” he tells her frantically. “Swim!”

Now she’s tied to a cement block, sinking sinking sinking. He reaches for the knife he knows is in her boot. He just needs to cut her ropes, and she’ll be free. Like last time.

But there is no boot. Only feet. Bare, manicured feet. Bubbles escape her mouth in a desperate cry. The ropes have somehow weaved themselves into chains, handcuffs and chains. The cement block is there though. It’s there and it keeps pulling her down down down into a box. No, a building. It pulls her into a building and there is nothing he can do. The roof swallows her up and she cries out and he’s got her but he can’t lift her. She’s too heavy. The blocks are too heavy.

“Help me!” he screams around him. “Rayna! Toraf! Emma!”

Rachel is dying.

Rachel is dying.

Rachel is dying.

“Let me go, Galen,” she whispers, but he can’t let go.

“Galen, let me go,” she says again. Her face is so peaceful. Decorated with her usual smile.

Rachel, please. Please don’t die.

Rachel, no.

Rachel is dead.

Again.

23

WE FIND
our way to a pool ladder attached to the rock. As I wait my turn, I take in our surroundings. On either side of us are huge red curtains, not the velvety kind you see at a theater, but a kind of thick tarp stretched across the walls, tethered top and bottom to the cave. I don’t know if they’re hiding something behind them, or if they’re making a halfhearted attempt at decoration down here under the water.

Finally it’s our turn to go up, and I watch as Reed’s swimming trunks disappear to the surface. Beams of strong lights strike through the water, dancing around without much purpose, and it reminds me of the big lights at Hollywood. I wonder what kind of production I’m in store for as I follow Reed up the ladder, slipping a few times on algae congregated on some of the steps.

When I reach the top, and before I gather my bearings, a cheer resounds through the cave. What exactly they’re cheering about I’m not sure, since I’ve already met half of them or more. Maybe it’s some sort of initiation to be taken here for a Huddle—wait for the stranger to come up the ladder, then scare the snot out of her when she surfaces. Yay for strangers. If it is some sort of Neptune tradition, Reed really should have told me. I would have at least braided my hair. Or something. Not to mention, being cheered while wearing a bathing suit reminds me of a nightmare I have sometimes about being naked in the middle of the school hallway. I do adore wearing clothes when I’m the center of attention.

And now I know where the word “cavernous” comes from. This inner chamber is as big as a ballroom. Smiling faces part for us as we make our way through the crowd. I don’t like that Reed is holding my hand, don’t like how it looks, but I decide not to struggle at this moment. Not when I’ve just been cheered.

Dozens and dozens of industrial-grade flashlights sit along the walls, sending columns of light to the uneven crevices of the ceiling. Lime formations cascade down the walls like huge curtains, only more beautiful than the plain red tarps below. A path has been roughly hewn that leads to the middle of the ginormous ballroom. In this new “room” are intricately carved wooden benches scattered around in a pattern that reminds me of the pews of a cathedral. The way they form a circle around the middle of the cave reminds me of the amphitheater at a summer camp Chloe and I once attended.