Of Neptune (The Syrena Legacy) (7 page)

We take a seat at the retro orange-and-yellow kitchen table.

“So,” I say around a mouthful of chocolate goodness, “How old are you?”

Reed grins. “Twenty. You?”

I’m about to tell him eighteen, but I’ve managed to get another year older during all the chaos. My birthday pretty much went unacknowledged by me—and apparently, by everyone else. It’s been a busy year. “Nineteen.”

He glances at Galen. “And you?”

“Twenty-one.”

Reed nods, more to himself than to us. Then the stringy sound of a banjo fills the air, giving us a reprieve from yet another awkward moment. Reed jumps up and grabs the cell phone erupting with country music on the counter. Apparently it’s his mom. He walks it into the living room, and all we hear are a few hushed words and then, “See you soon.”

This makes Galen uneasy. Not that everything doesn’t make Galen uneasy nowadays. When Reed returns, he brings with him his laid-back smile. “Mom wants you to stay the night and visit with us. Galen and I can take the couches in the living room, and you can sleep in my room.”

“We don’t want to impose,” Galen says quickly. “If we’re going to visit,” he glances at me as if he’s asking me if we are, instead of agreeing to it, “then we can stay at the bed-and-breakfast. What did you call it? Sylvia’s?”

“The sign said there’s no vacancy,” I say.

“The sign always says that,” Reed says. “Mr. Kennedy creeped out poor Sylvia, so she’s not accepting new out-of-towners. I’m sure you’ll be the exception though, since you’re one of us.”

A frown tugs at Galen’s mouth. He doesn’t like being referred to as “one of us.” It makes me feel guilty that I do like it. In fact, I’m kind of delighted by it. But for now, I’m relieved to check in to our room and have a private discussion about the day’s events. Staying here at Reed’s house would feel too … public. Which is silly, given that the inn is about dead center in town. Anyone who’s curious could come up there to see us—including the spooktastic Mr. Kennedy.

I admit Mr. Kennedy wouldn’t have registered on my weirdness radar under normal circumstances. It’s just that Reed seems to view him as “different,” and it’s nice to view someone else that way instead of feeling like the outcast, as selfish as that sounds.

Reed offers to accompany us to Sylvia’s, but Galen holds up his hand. It’s a finalizing gesture. “No, thank you. I remember the way back.”

Our new friend doesn’t miss a beat. “Just be back here at six o’clock. I told Mom you were coming to dinner, at the very least. Don’t make a liar out of me.”

When it looks like Galen might protest again, Reed supplements, “Toby caught some trout over at the creek. I’d love to know what you think of freshwater fish, Galen.”

Galen runs a hand through his hair. “Fine. We’ll see you at six o’clock then.”

I pretend not to notice that Reed is smiling at me like a canary-gobbling cat.

10

GALEN HAULS
the suitcases to the second floor of Sylvia’s Starfish Bed & Breakfast. He waits while Emma opens the door to her room before he drags her belongings in behind her. Since he and Emma aren’t mated yet, Sylvia insisted on them staying in separate rooms, as all of them were “romantically designed” with only one bed.

Apparently the town of Neptune picks and chooses which of the old laws is most convenient to follow.

Emma falls onto the bed, a beautifully appointed wrought iron creation with light blue satin bedding and lacy ruffles around the bottom. The bed squeaks with her every movement, and she giggles. “It’s not that romantic, if you know what I mean.”

Galen grins and sets the suitcases underneath the window. Then he takes a spot on the bed next to Emma. The air in here smells stale to him, as if this room hasn’t been used in ages. “What do you make of this place?”

What he really wants to say is, “What do you think about Reed and his infatuation with you?” but that would just start a fight, not to mention bring all the jealous feelings he’d had bubbling up back to the surface. Reed’s fascination with Emma has gotten Galen’s imagination stirring on so many levels.

First, he imagined bringing the SUV to a sudden stop that pitched Reed straight through the windshield and landed his bloodied, broken body on the gravel road ahead.

Then there was the fantasy of using his fist to relieve Reed of every one of his teeth, thereby creating his own version of an easy smile.

Not to mention the daydream of punching Reed in the stomach hard enough for him to choke on whatever remnants he forgot to chew of his chocolate chip cookie.

“I think it’s too early to tell yet,” Emma says, startling him from his reverie.

“Really? That’s not what it looked like.”

She rolls her eyes as he rests his elbow on the mattress, propping his head up so it rests just over hers. Their noses almost touch.
Triton’s trident, her skin is flawless
. “I don’t think you give me enough credit. And I don’t think you give Reed enough credit, either.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He leans back and stares at the ceiling. “Emma, we don’t know these people. And what we do know about them is that they shouldn’t exist. That they’re here living on land, risking our discovery.”

“I think it’s safe to say they’re risking their discovery, not ours. Can’t we agree on the fact that they’ve stayed hidden—even from us—for long enough to prove they mean us no harm?”

“You’re a Half-Breed, angelfish. If they’re discovered, you’re discovered.”

“How so? No one’s going to point me out of a crowd and start shouting.”

“You don’t know that. And I don’t want to find out.”

Emma sighs. He can tell he’s aggravating her, but what does she expect? For him to embrace all of the strangers like long-lost cousins? It just doesn’t work that way. Especially not under the circumstances.

“You don’t want to be here.” She says it as if he’s betrayed her somehow.

“I want to be wherever you are.”

“That’s a generic answer.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No. I don’t want to be here.” He rolls over again, looking down on the glory that is her face. Tracing the back of his hand along her cheek, he says, “Truth be told, my first instinct is to run. To get as far away from here as possible.”

She doesn’t like the honesty in that answer. He can’t help it. “Why?”

“Because they’re breaking the law.”

“But you said yourself the law is a bunch of superstition. Have you forgotten? I’m an exception to the law. Couldn’t they be?” It’s true, he’s back and forth about the law. But right now, the law seems to have reinvented itself into good common sense.

“Well they’re not exactly asking to be pardoned, are they? Besides, what
I
think about the law doesn’t matter. It’s what the
kingdoms
think about the law—and they still have a law against the existence of Half-Breeds.” He winces when a glint of pain flashes across her face. “Of more than one Half-Breed,” he corrects. “Right now, I think we should concentrate on keeping the peace between the kingdoms and not throwing another Royal scandal in their faces.” Every time he opens his mouth, Grom comes out.

“It doesn’t feel like a scandal to me, Galen. Besides, my grandfather knew about this place. He’s been here. And obviously he doesn’t think it’s such a scandal.”

“Actually, I’m quite certain he does,” Galen says dryly. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have kept it a secret.” And Galen’s first instinct is to be furious about it.
What was Antonis thinking?
“Why was he here, anyway?”

“He said he was looking for Mom.”

“On
land
?”

She shrugs. “Turns out, Mom had a fascination with all things human. Kind of like Rayna.”

Galen doesn’t appreciate the comparison. Rayna only collects human things. She would never abandon the Syrena way of life to actually live on land. Still, he doesn’t feel confident enough to say that out loud. Rayna is unpredictable, after all. Just like Nalia, Emma’s mother.

And just like Emma.

Galen is tired of everything being unpredictable; he’s ready for things to settle down. But the human world seems too tainted with complications for that to happen. Look where it got Nalia. She lived among the humans, all the while missing out on Grom’s devotion and love. Look at Emma. She’s willing to shorten her life span, to deprive him of what could add up to years of her company, just to spend time on land. To go to human school. To do human things.

And look at Rachel. She
belonged
on land. But even one of the world’s most resilient people proved too perishable—too human—in the end.

I was right all along to be wary of humans. And now I’m in too deep.

He’s startled to find that Emma is watching him. He wonders what she sees. Can she tell how bitter he is? How desperate he is to tell her how he feels? And how terrified he is of her rejecting him?

But Emma seems to have some concerns of her own. Her whole face gives way to pleading—and Galen already knows he has very little power to resist whatever she’s about to request of him. He wonders—and doubts—if he’ll ever develop an immunity to that face of hers.

“I know you don’t feel comfortable here,” she says softly. “But the thing is, I do, Galen. In fact … In fact, it feels like I
belong
here. I’m not some weirdo outcast in Neptune. The only weirdo outcast here is Mr. Kennedy—and he’s human.”

You
belong
with me,
is what he wants to say, which is a little more possessive than he cares to admit. But he can’t help it. She’s acting as if this place is the answer to her dreams. And deep down, he knows it’s no use arguing. Emma has it in her mind to explore this place.

“You’re not an outcast,” is all he can say. He hates himself for hiding his true feelings, but he senses that now is not the time to argue. Emma wants to stay for a while, so they will.

But what will I do if she decides she
permanently
belongs here?

He puts his arm around her waist and pulls her closer against him, and she snuggles into the crook of his arm, relaxing. But no matter how close his body is to hers, there seems to be a new space between them. And Galen tightens his hold.

11

REED’S FAMILY
is just as easygoing as he is. In fact, the dinner table is like a sort of center stage, and each of them takes turns occupying the spotlight.

His father, Reder Conway, is full-blooded Syrena, with a muscular build showing through his flannel shirt and olive skin glowing attractively in the relaxed lighting in the dining room. He has the same icy blue eyes as my mother—just more proof of how Syrena eye color changes after so much time spent on land. I wonder how long it will take for Galen’s eyes to fade to blue. And if I’ll be able to bear it when they do.

Reed’s mother, Lauren, is unapologetically human. Blonde hair that I can tell would be curly, but that is French braided into submission with the occasional rebellious tendril sticking out. Large brown eyes that seem to miss nothing and a pear-shaped figure that could only be gotten by enjoying the sweeter things in life.

Toby, Reed’s nine-year-old brother, is a classic Half-Breed—blond hair, pale skin—and a classic pain-in-the-butt, loudmouthed younger sibling. I’ve always wanted one of those.

“Reed says you have the mark of a trident on your stomach,” Toby says to Galen, so enthralled he almost passes the bowl of rolls to the floor instead of to me.

The clink and clatter of silverware stops. Mr. Conway takes a swig of his buttermilk, then leans back in his chair. He’s trying to look casual. He’s failing. “Is that right?” he says.

Galen cuts into a new potato that we both know he’s not going to eat. “It’s a tattoo,” Galen says, shrugging.

Suddenly, dinner feels like a game. Mr. Conway is interested in Galen’s Royal birthmark, and Galen is not interested in telling him about it. Lovely.

“Aww, crap,” Toby says, crestfallen. “We were hoping you were a real-live Triton Royal. No one’s seen one before.”

Galen offers him a good-natured smile from across the table. Only I notice the slight flex in his jaw. “Sorry to disappoint, minnow.”

“A tattoo, huh?” Reed says. “We haven’t had much success with tattoos here. Some nonsense about our skin being too waterlogged for the ink to stick.”

Galen shrugs. “Must be a freshwater thing.”

What the heck? I can understand why Galen would be guarded—these people are still strangers, after all—but to flat-out lie? Especially when they already know what the trident means. Who cares if they know he’s a Royal? If anything, his status could be used to open up communication with them. To start bridging the gap between freshwater and saltwater Syrena.

Unless Galen’s not interested in bridging the gap.

I push that thought aside and pop a whole red potato in my mouth. It will keep me from blurting, and I’ll have to concentrate on not choking instead of sifting through reasons why Galen wouldn’t want to bridge random gaps.

“Not to question your judgment, Galen,” Mr. Conway says. “But wouldn’t the kingdoms see a human tattoo as … Well, as not only breaking the law, obviously, but also as a kind of sacrilege against the Royals? Especially a trident, like yours. Or have things in the ocean changed that much?” He glances with meaning at me, the Half-Breed girl Galen brought to dinner. Touché, right?

But for once in my life, I don’t feel out of place as the Half-Breed girl. In fact, Mr. Conway winks at me, and I can’t help but return a smile. At least, I hope it resembles a smile, but I may have literally bitten off more than I can chew. Maybe he’s smiling because a
Half-Breed
brought a
Triton Royal
to dinner. That seems more of a noteworthy scandal here in Neptune.

Galen sets his fork down. I try not to notice the deliberation in the action. “No offense, Mr. Conway, but you don’t give the impression of being overly concerned with the laws of the ocean.”

Milk. I need milk. I take a bigger swig of it than I intended. It’s the only way I can keep from gasping/choking/speaking out of turn. At this point, I expect Mr. Conway to throw us out. And I wouldn’t blame him if he did.