Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton (17 page)

I turn around and clutch the flashlight to my chest. What do I do? If I turn the flashlight on, the intruder will know exactly where I am. He’ll be able to follow the light right to me. But if I keep it off, I might miss my opportunity to see
him
.

I duck down and peer around the counter. Whoever was standing in the living room isn’t there anymore. Goose bumps spring up everywhere—he probably already saw me in the kitchen and is on his way to get me. I wait for a bolt of lightning, then another before I have the courage to crawl across the linoleum and into the hallway.

Which I immediately realize is a stupid move. If he were to appear in front or behind me, there’s nowhere to go. I back up, hoping I don’t bump into anything. Lightning illuminates the short distance back to the kitchen. My only chance is to make it to the garage. I have to be quick, because the door makes a god-awful noise and sometimes it sticks without shutting all the way. As soon as I open it, he’ll know where to find me. But it’s the only chance I get.

My hand closes around the knob.

His hand closes around my arm.

I turn around screaming, and slam the flashlight into his face, his neck, his shoulder, I’m not sure which. Suddenly my weapon is ripped from my hands. I hear it land a few feet away on the kitchen floor.

A flash of lightning shows that he is very big. Muscular. And he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Were you really crawling around on the floor?” Toraf says.

“Ugh!” I shove him back. “Is that your favorite thing to do? Scare me?”

He snickers. His outline moves toward the living room. “If you’re so scared you should lock the doors.”

I open my mouth and shut it a couple of times. I
had
forgotten to lock the door to the back deck but it doesn’t mean he has to go out of his way to scare the snot out of me. I follow him to the living room and slink to the couch. “What are you doing here? Where’s Galen?”

Nothing good ever follows silence like this.

“Emma, I need you to come with me to the Boundary. Right now.”

The dark hides his expression, but he sounds dead serious. I try to imagine Toraf dead serious and can’t.
The Boundary?
Galen had told me about the Boundary before. It’s where they hold the Syrena version of a court trial. It’s where people who are troublemakers go. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“A lot. I’m not sure how he’s done it, what he’s promised them, but Jagen has turned both the houses against the Royals. There are Trackers and Archives who have sworn that they don’t recognize your mother’s pulse. And now Jagen has accused the Royals of straying.”

“Straying?” I know what that means in human terms, but in Syrena lingo I have no idea.

“Of adultery. Maybe not these Royals, but he says that some Royals down the line
somewhere
had to have strayed because how else would Paca have the Gift of Poseidon?” He scoffs. “I can’t really believe this is happening. How could they believe a slimy eel like Jagen?”

Lightning hits close and I get a good look at Toraf. He’s as stressed out as he sounds. I let him talk, because it seems like he has more to say, and if not, he needs to vent. “The Royals can’t even leave the Boundary now because King Antonis—he’s your grandfather, did you know that?—tried to choke Jagen when he made up all these stupid accusations.”

He’s your grandfather
. Technically, I did already know that. I already knew the story of Nalia and Grom, and that Antonis, her father and the Poseidon king, accused Grom of murdering her. But that was out of context. That was when these people were strangers. That was before Mom was Nalia.
I have a grandfather. I have a king for a grandfather. A king fish.

I clear my throat. “So … This isn’t just about my mom’s identity. This is Jagen making his move to take over the kingdoms? And … you think he’s getting away with it?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“But I don’t understand. What could I do to stop him? I’m just a Half-Breed.”

“You can come with me and show them that you have the true Gift of Poseidon. That Nalia is your mother. It will prove her identity, that the Royals aren’t lying, and that they haven’t strayed.”

“Won’t it technically prove that they
have
strayed? I mean, you know how babies are born right? That means my mom and my dad—”

“I know how it works. And, uh, I don’t want to talk about it with you. And I’m pretty sure Galen doesn’t want me to, either. But I’m hoping Nalia can be forgiven for all of that, since she thought Grom was dead. But they don’t even believe she
is
Nalia.”

I nod, but the action is lost in the dark. Outside, the storm seems to be losing momentum. “Galen sent you to get me?”

The long silence gives me the answer. “He doesn’t know you’re here?” I ask, licking my lips.

“He knows,” Toraf says softly. “But he thinks I’m bringing you back to turn you over to Jagen.”

I swallow. “Are you?”

I see his outline jump up from his chair. “No! It’s unbelievable how everyone is so quick to accept I’d turn on them. Have I ever turned on them? Not once! You should have seen Galen’s face when I told Jagen I’d bring you back. If he could get to me, he would have killed me, I know it. And Rayna…” A small strangled sound escapes him. “Triton’s trident, Emma. You have to come with me and make this right. They can’t go to the Ice Caverns thinking I betrayed them.”

“I promised Galen I wouldn’t get in the water. Now you’re asking me to come with you and show all the Syrena I exist? He’ll freaking kill me. Mom will kill me. They’re both bent on keeping me a secret. They think it’s dangerous for me. Why don’t you think that?”

I feel Toraf’s weight register on the cushion beside me. Just then, the power kicks back on. The whole house seems to buzz. Toraf has tears in his eyes. Tears. He takes my hand in his. “I’m not going to tell you it’s not dangerous for you. It is. But if we don’t do something, the Royals will be sentenced to the Ice Caverns. You’ll never see Galen or your mother again. I’ll never see Rayna again.”

“But you’re mated to Rayna. Doesn’t that make you a Royal, too?”

“Not a true Royal, that’s not how it works. They’re only talking about purebloods. Paca will be exempt, too. If they’re sentenced to the Caverns, we’ll both be free to choose different mates. But I don’t want another mate, Emma. I want Rayna. I always have.”

Geez, the boy knows how to make my heart all melty. I bite my lip. “It’s that serious? Really?”

He nods. “I wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself if it weren’t. But I don’t see any other way out of it. The Royals give testimony, then one of Jagen’s Loyals gives testimony. It’s one word against the other, and the crowd is leaning toward the Loyals. I can hear what they’re whispering. It doesn’t help that Paca can prove that she has the Gift of Poseidon. There’s no one to refute it. They have more going for them than we do right now.”

“Galen told me that Paca uses hand signals to make dolphins do tricks, like they do at the Gulfarium. The Archives don’t think there’s something wrong with that? That she can’t talk to any other fish?”

“I think they’re confused. They haven’t seen the Gifts in a long time and Jagen is taking advantage of that. He’s making them question what they know.”

I pull from his grasp and fold my hands in my lap. I can’t look at him right now. Not with the pain in his eyes and the emotion in his voice. I’ve never seen Toraf like this and I don’t like it. He’s always been a caricature of himself, the class clown. Now he’s risking Galen’s trust—and friendship—just by being here. And he’s asking me to risk it, too. Still, he would never hurt Rayna … Unless it was absolutely necessary. “But I
promised
Galen I wouldn’t get in the water.”

“We both know you already broke that promise, Emma.”

I gasp. But really, I’m not shocked. I was wondering if Toraf sensed me that day. And I was wondering if he told Galen. “It wasn’t my fault. I was on a jet ski and Goliath knocked me into the water. He was trying to play.”

“So you decided to invite Jasa to join you?”

“Who?”

“The Syrena fingerling you were with. I told you. I sense everything.”

Jasa. Her name is Jasa. “Is she okay?”

He nods. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Some fishermen caught her in their net. I helped her get away. She didn’t say anything?”

Of all things, Toraf grins. “No, probably because she wasn’t supposed to be off by herself. Telling everyone about you would be telling on herself.”

“So … Galen doesn’t know?” I’m not sure why I care. What Toraf is asking me to do is way worse than helping a young Syrena out of a fisherman’s net. He’s asking me to expose myself to the entire Syrena world. A Syrena world that thinks I’m an abomination deserving of death. Galen is going to be freaking thrilled.

“That’s between you and Galen. I think you should definitely tell him.” Toraf shrugs. “Eventually, anyway. But will you come with me now? Will you help me?”

It’s not lost on me that Toraf didn’t actually answer my question, but I can tell he’s not going to fess up either way. But telling Galen about my screwup is the least of my worries. We won’t even get the
chance
to fight about it if I don’t help Toraf.

I mean, if Toraf, the most laid-back person I’ve ever met, is worried about everyone we both love, then I should be, too. I know Galen wouldn’t want me to come, even to save him. But sometimes Galen doesn’t get what he wants. I nod. “You want me to come right now? In the storm?”

He smirks. “Only land dwellers worry about storms.”

“Oh, yeah. Wait. We’re going to the Boundary? Isn’t that, like, in the belly button of the Pacific Ocean or something? There’s no way I can swim that far.” I pat my piddly human legs for emphasis.

“I can carry you.”

“How much time do we have? You’re not as fast as Galen and the extra weight will slow you down. How long did it take you to get here anyway?”

He scowls. “Two days, and that was really pushing it. You’re right, we won’t be fast enough. Jagen might start to doubt my word. Do you think Rachel can help us?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” I pick up my cell phone and dial the 800 number, then leave her a message. “Rachel, it’s Emma. Toraf is here and we need your help getting to Hawaii. Tonight. Call me.”

“What’s Hawaii?” Toraf asks as I hang up.

“It’s an island in the Pacific. If we fly there, we can swim the rest of the way to the Boundary.”

Toraf looks almost green. The same green Galen turns when he gets on a plane. “Oh, no. I can’t fly. No way.”

The phone rings. “Rachel?”

“Hiya, cupcake. I see Toraf found you. What’s up?”

“We need the next flight out to Hawaii. And, um, we need some Dramamine for Toraf. A lot, because remember Dr. Milligan said they metabolize it faster than humans.”

“I’m on it.”

* * *

You’d think someone as resourceful as Rachel would know whether or not Toraf was the identical twin of a known terrorist. But nooooo. So we wait by our guard in the corridor of the security office of LAX airport while about a dozen people work to verify our identity.

My identity comes back fine and clean and boring.

Toraf’s identity doesn’t come back for a few hours. Which is not cool, because he’s been puking in the trash can next to our bench seats and it’s got to be almost full by now. Because of the regional storms in Jersey, we’d had a rough takeoff. Coupled with the reaction Toraf had to the Dramamine—excitability, no less—it was all I could do to coax him out of the tiny bathroom to get him to sit still and not puke while doing so.

His fingerprints could not be matched and his violet eyes were throwing them for a loop, since they physically verified that they aren’t contacts. A lady security officer asked us several times in several different ways why our tickets would be one-way to Hawaii if we lived in Jersey and only had a carry-on bag full of miscellaneous crap that you don’t really need. Where were we going? What were we doing?

I’d told them we were going to Honolulu to pick a place to get married and weren’t in a hurry to come back, so we only purchased one-way tickets and blah blah blah. It’s a BS story and they know it, but sometimes BS stories can’t be proven false. Finally, I asked for an attorney, and since they hadn’t charged us with anything, and
couldn’t
charge us with anything, they decided to let us go. For crying out loud.

I can’t decide if I’m relieved or nervous that Toraf’s seat is a couple of rows back on our flight to Honolulu. On the plus side, I don’t have to be bothered every time he goes to the bathroom to upchuck. Then again, I can’t keep my eye on him, either, in case he doesn’t know how to act or respond to nosy strangers who can’t mind their own business. I peek around my seat and roll my eyes.

He’s seated next to two girls, about my age and obviously traveling together, and they’re trying nonstop to start a conversation with him. Poor, poor Toraf. It must be a hard-knock life to have inherited the exquisite Syrena features. It’s all he can do not to puke in their laps. A small part of me wishes that he would, so they’d shut up and leave him alone and I could maybe close my eyes for two seconds. From here I can hear him squirm in his seat, which is about four times too small for a built Syrena male. His shoulder and biceps protrude into the aisle, so he’s constantly getting bumped. Oy.

Truthfully though, playing mother to Toraf has helped keep my mind off the potential things to come. Until now. The possibility that I’ll be killed keeps coming to mind. Or even worse, Galen might not ever speak to me again. That would be worse than death, I think.

Not to mention all this school I’ve missed. It’s four in the morning on a Wednesday and I’m leaving California, headed to Hawaii, then to who-knows-where and will return who-knows-when. I’m going to have to come up with a fantastic excuse to give my guidance counselor for all of these absences, especially if I’m still interested in all the scholarships I filled out applications for. I should have had Rachel write a note or something before we left. But knowing Rachel, she might have already thought of that.