Of Poseidon (6 page)

“But can you show me where it is?”

I check my schedule to see where I’m going, knowing even if my next class is in the complete opposite corner of the school from his, I will take him to room 123. Lucky for me, my next class is in room 123 as well— English lit.

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“Uh, actually, we have the next class together, too,” I tell

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him apologetically. He follows me out the door and keeps my slowish pace as I scan over our schedules to see how many more classes he will have to endure my awkward company— and how many more classes I can expect to be blushing in. The answer is all of them. I groan. Out loud.

“What?” he says. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, it’s just that . . . It looks like we have the exact same schedule. Seven classes together.”

“Is that a problem?”

Yes.
“No. I mean, well it isn’t for me, but . . . I just thought maybe you’d rather not have me around after what happened that day at the beach.”

He stops and pulls me out of student traffi c to a row of

lockers. The intimacy of the move gets the attention of some passersby. Remnants of his fan club linger behind, still waiting for me to relinquish my turn.

“Maybe we should go somewhere private to discuss this,” he says softly, leaning closer. He glances with meaning around us.

“Private?” I squeak.

He nods. “I’m glad you brought it up. I wasn’t sure how to approach you about it, but this makes it easier for both of us, don’t you think? And if you keep cooperating, I’m sure I can get you leniency.”

I gulp. “Leniency?”

“Yes, Emma. Of course you realize I could arrest you right now. You understand that, right?”

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Ohymysweetgoodness, he came all this way to press assault 0—

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charges against me! Is he going to sue me, sue my family? I’m eigh teen now. I could legally be sued. The heat on my cheeks is part kill- me- now embarrassment and part where’s-a- knife- when-you- need- one rage. “But it was an accident!” I hiss.

“
An accident?
You’ve got to be kidding me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“No, I am not kidding. Why would I ram into you on purpose? I don’t even know you! And anyways, how do I know
you
didn’t run into
me,
huh?” The idea is preposterous, but it leaves room for reasonable doubt. I can see by his expression he didn’t think of that.

“What?” He is struggling to follow, but what did I expect?

He can’t even fi nd his class in a school with only three halls.

That he found me clear across the country seems more miracu-lous than a push- up bra.

“I said, you’ll have to prove that I ran into you on purpose.

That I meant to cause you harm. And besides, I checked with you at the time—”

“Emma.”

“—and you said you didn’t have injuries—”

“Emma.”

“—but the only witness I have on my side is dead—”

“EM- MA.”

“Did you hear me, Galen?” I turn around and yell at the remaining spectators in the hall as the bell rings. “CHLOE IS

DEAD!”

Sprinting is not a good idea for me in the fi rst place. Sprinting

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with tears blurring my vision, even worse. But sprinting with tears blurring my vision
and
while wearing fl ip- fl ops is a lack of respect for human life, starting with my own. So then, I am not surprised when the door to the cafeteria opens into my face. I am a little surprised when everything goes black.

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6

HE PULLS into the driveway of the not- so- modest house he asked Rachel not to buy. Cutting the engine to the not- so-modest car, he throws his backpack full of books over his shoulder.

He fi nds Rachel in the kitchen, where she’s pulling fi sh fi llets from the oven. She wears an apron over her polka- dot dress, and her hair, a chaos of black curls, is pulled into a ponytail. She huff s up at her bangs to get them out of her face as she turns and smiles. “Hiya, cutie! How was your fi rst day of school?” She pops the oven shut with her hip.

He shakes his head and pulls up a bar stool next to Rayna, who’s sitting at the counter painting her nails the color of a red snapper. “This won’t work. I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says.

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“Sweet pea, what happened? Can’t be
that
bad.”

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He nods. “It is. I knocked Emma unconscious.” Rachel spits the wine back in her glass. “Oh, sweetie, uh . . .

that sort of thing’s been frowned upon for years now.”

“Good. You owed her one,” Rayna snickers. “She shoved him at the beach,” she explains to Rachel.

“Oh?” Rachel says. “That how she got your attention?”

“She didn’t shove me; she tripped into me,” he says. “And I didn’t knock her out on purpose. She ran from me, so I chased her and—”

Rachel holds up her hand. “Okay. Stop right there. Are the cops coming by? You know that makes me ner vous.”

“No,” Galen says, rolling his eyes. If the cops haven’t found Rachel by now, they’re not going to. Besides, after all this time, the cops wouldn’t still be looking. And the other people who want to fi nd her think she’s dead.

“Okay, good. Now, back up there, sweet pea. Why did she run from you?”

“A misunderstanding.”

Rachel clasps her hands together. “I know, sweet pea. I do.

But in order for me to help you, I need to know the specifi cs. Us girls are tricky creatures.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Tell me about it. First she’s being nice and cooperative, and then she’s yelling in my face.”

Rayna gasps. “She
yelled
at you?” She slams the polish bottle on the counter and points at Rachel. “I want you to be my

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mother, too. I want to be enrolled in school.” 0—

“No way. You step one foot outside this house, and I’ll ar-

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rest you myself,” Galen says. “And don’t even think about getting in the water with that human paint on your fi ngers.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not getting in the water at all.” Galen opens his mouth to contradict that, to tell her to go home tomorrow and stay there, but then he sees her exasperated expression. He grins. “He found you.”

Rayna crosses her arms and nods. “Why can’t he just leave me alone? And why do you think it’s so funny? You’re my brother!

You’re supposed to protect me!”

He laughs. “From Toraf ? Why would I do that?” She shakes her head. “I was trying to catch some fi sh for Rachel, and I sensed him in the water. Close. I got out as fast as I could, but probably he knows that’s what I did.
How does he always
fi nd me?
”

“Oops,” Rachel says.

They both turn to her. She smiles apologetically at Rayna.

“I didn’t realize you two were at odds. He showed up on the back porch looking for you this morning and . . . I invited him to dinner. Sorry.”

As Galen says, “Rachel, what if someone sees him?” Rayna is saying, “No. No, no, no, he is not coming to dinner.” Rachel clears her throat and nods behind them.

“Rayna, that’s very hurtful. After all we’ve been through,” Toraf says.

Rayna bristles on the stool, growling at the sound of his voice. She sends an icy glare to Rachel, who pretends not to notice as she squeezes a lemon slice over the fi llets.

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Galen hops down and greets his friend with a strong punch

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to the arm. “Hey there, tadpole. I see you found a pair of my swimming trunks. Good to see your tracking skills are still intact after the accident and all.”

Toraf stares at Rayna’s back. “Accident, yes. Next time, I’ll keep my eyes open when I kiss her. That way, I won’t accidentally bust my nose on a rock again. Foolish me, right?” Galen grins. Toraf is one of the best trackers in Syrena history. His ability to sense others of his kind is acute, but more than that, he can home in on any one of them. He recognizes not only the presence of another Syrena, but after spending minimal time with them, can identify each one individually and from impossible distances. And the one he’s most sensitive to is staring in an unhealthy way at a fi llet knife across the counter.

“Rayna, your mate has come all this way to see you. You’re being rude. Why don’t you step away from the counter? Now?” Galen says, his tone hedged in warning. He’s not in the mood to fi ght with either one of them. If Rayna makes a move, he’ll be forced to subdue her. If he handles her too roughly, Toraf will take exception and handle
him
roughly. And besides, he’s hungry and the fi llets are almost cool enough to eat.

Rayna pushes back and whirls around. “He is
not
my mate.” Toraf clears his throat. Galen’s eyes go wide, but Toraf cuts him a warning look, shakes his head almost indiscernibly.

“I was hoping your feelings would have changed by now, my princess. You know you won’t fi nd anyone else who would be

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more devoted to you than me. I’ve followed you around since 0—

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you couldn’t even swim straight,” Toraf says. Although the words are tossed to her lightheartedly, Galen knows he means every one of them.

“Which is why I trusted you,” Rayna snarls. “You knew me better than Galen. You knew I never wanted to mate. You let me think you agreed with my decision. But all that time, you were planning to take away my freedom yourself.”

“Wow, shame on you Toraf,” Rachel calls from the sink.

“Anyone hungry?”

“Starving,” Galen and Toraf say. Rayna rolls her eyes and stomps to the table.

They plop down on the moonlit beach. Toraf shakes the excess water from his hair onto Galen, who returns the favor by throwing a fi stful of sand in his face. Galen leans back on his elbows and looks up at the star- freckled midnight sky. He shakes his head. “When are you going to tell her?”

Toraf stretches out beside his friend, resting his hands behind his head. “Tell her what?”

“That you’re already mated.”

Toraf grins. “You know me too well, I think, Highness.”

“Don’t call me that. When did my father agree to it?”

“Actually, he didn’t. Grom sealed us.”

Galen turns on his side, rests his head on his elbow. “She’ll try to overturn it, you know. Grom’s not technically king yet.”

“Yeah, he technically is. And between you and me, I hope you have a fantastic excuse not to have been there. Oh, that

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reminds me.” He reaches over and punches Galen square in the jaw. “That’s for allowing your sister to hide out on land with you. I’ve spent the last two weeks thinking you were both dead.”

Galen sits up and nods, rubbing his jaw. He can’t argue with that. Rayna is breaking the law by staying in human form for more than a day. She doesn’t have the immunity Galen has, but even
his
immunity doesn’t extend this far, and he knows it. Toraf knows it, too. “So . . . you’re saying you can’t sense Rayna on land?”

“You know we can’t sense each other on land, Galen.”

“Yeah, I thought I knew. Wait, did you just say Grom is king? When did that happen?”

Toraf sits up. “First of all, I don’t like your tone. I set out to fi nd you, to bring you back for the ceremony. So don’t act like you were accessible the whole time.
Two weeks ago,
” he reiterates.

“And what do you mean you
thought
? I’m sitting right next to you.

You can’t sense me.”

Galen shakes his head. “No. Not you, anyway.”

“Right. You’re saying you can sense someone. On land. I don’t believe you.”

Galen rubs his eyes. “I know. I can hardly believe it myself.

I haven’t told Rayna. She already said she can’t sense her and—”

“
Her?
Her who?”

“Her name is Emma. Dr. Milligan found her.” He tells Toraf everything— how

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Dr. Milligan left a message on Galen’s cell phone, how 0—

Galen went to Florida to investigate the doctor’s claim himself,

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how Emma ordered the shark away. How she has a habit of running into things.

Toraf is quiet for a long time. Then he says, “This doesn’t make sense. How can she be one of us? If she is, then she would have done damage to the door, not the other way around. Your thick head would have left a dent in it.”