Of Neptune (The Syrena Legacy) (3 page)

He looks at me then, scrutinizing my reaction. I don’t know what he’s looking for. I glance away, digging my feet into the sand as if it’s the most important task on the planet.

Satisfied, the old monarch clears his throat. He’s hunkering down, I can tell.

I let out my breath. “Yes, I know. They said you kept your Trackers searching for a long time.”

Grandfather nods. “That is true, young Emma. I did send out Tracker parties. During both the light and dark parts of the days. I kept Trackers out at all times. And each time they returned, they came back with nothing.”

I already know all of this. We’d already dissected everything over and over again. Maybe my grandfather just needs someone to talk to, I decide. And I’m sort of honored that he chose me. Especially because of the way his voice transforms, tightening each word, choked by emotion. This is hard for him to talk about. But he’s reopening old hurts that have barely scabbed over to tell me. Just me.

“They came back with nothing, and I began to lose hope,” he continues. Antonis leans back on his hand, his focus set on the waves rolling in ahead of us. “Until one day. One of my most trusted and talented Trackers, Baruk, came to me. He swore on Poseidon’s legacy that he’d felt your mother’s pulse. That it was faint and erratic. It would come and go so quickly that it was impossible to follow, even for him. Sometimes it would be toward the sunrise, others, toward the sunset. We figured out that she must have been adrift.”

Okay, so maybe I didn’t know all of this. In fact, I’m pretty sure my jaw is hanging open. “Grom said the same thing, that he felt her pulse sometimes. Did he tell you?”

“Of course not,” Antonis says, his voice grave. “Just as I didn’t tell him. You must understand, Emma, I did not know what had transpired between Grom and my daughter. All I knew was that she was gone and that he was there. No, I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone.” Grandfather pauses, a wise kind of curiosity dancing in his eyes. “Of course, if your friend Toraf had been born at the time, I might have been diplomatic enough with the Triton house to take advantages of his tracking talents. There has never been another like him, you know.”

I nod. It’s all I can do. It’s sad, how many opportunities had come up again and again for them to share information, to work together to find my mother. And if they had, I wouldn’t be here right now. That said, there is only so much anguish I can devote to those long-ago circumstances. If my grandfather is waiting for a response from me, sympathetic or otherwise, he’s not getting one. I know this story isn’t over, and I don’t want him to stop telling it.

He seems to sense this. “After a few days, her pulse disappeared. Baruk believed her dead. I refused to accept that. Baruk thought me mad, begged me to let her go and move on. But I couldn’t, you see. Nalia was all I had left. In the end, I ordered Baruk to point me in the direction where he last sensed her. I knew she might be dead. But I also knew something else about my daughter, young Emma. Something she doesn’t realize to this day. Nalia always had a secret fondness for humans.”

Yep, definitely didn’t know that. I’m starting to realize I could fill a black hole with all the things I don’t know. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that a good father knows what his fingerlings are up to. There was a time shortly before she disappeared when my Trackers reported her visiting the same spot each day close to the Arena. Each day, they followed her, but when they arrived, she’d already gone. They never found anything there, couldn’t figure out the purpose for her daily visits. At first, I thought she was entertaining the thought of sifting with other males, since she was so opposed to Grom in the beginning. Yet, all the Trackers reported the absence of another’s pulse. So I decided to investigate this myself. I almost passed by it, I tell you. But somehow, one of her shinier possessions captured one of the few rays of sunlight able to reach bottom. I figured I must have stirred up the murk in just the right place. That’s when I found her cache of human things.”

Ohmysweetgoodness. “My mother collected human things?” And my grandfather never busted her on it? “And you let her? What about the laws? You didn’t care?”

He waves a disdainful hand in the air. “And which law was she breaking? Who could prove she’d had contact with humans? Who was to say that she didn’t find these things on old shipwrecks?”

So he turned a blind eye. He chose not to question her. Somehow this just endears him to me more. “So because of her obsession with human things, you figured out she’d come ashore?”

Antonis shakes his head. “Yes and no. I thought she might have. I searched the coasts and then began to move deeper inland. I never found her, obviously. But I did find something else, Emma. Something I haven’t told anyone.”

And that’s when I realize this is not just an innocent grandfather-granddaughter secret.

4

GALEN LOADS
the last of Emma’s luggage into the trunk of his SUV and lifts a brow at the two very different piles of personal effects. He didn’t even fill one whole suitcase, yet Emma managed to fill two big ones and a small one. Not to mention that bulky purse thing she carries. He grins. Either she planned something big or she failed to plan.

Not that he cares. He’s just happy to steal her away.

“What do you suppose that was all about?” Grom says, startling him.

Galen scowls. “Since when did you learn to sneak around on human legs?”

His brother gives him a lazy smile, then shrugs. “I’m a quick study.”

“Obviously,” Galen grumbles.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Grom has already tried Galen’s patience today. Forcing him to ask permission to take this trip in front of everyone—especially since they’d already discussed it countless times—was unnecessary and humiliating. Was he just showing off his Royal muscle for Nalia?
Or does he truly feel I’m taking liberties with my position as human ambassador?

Because if he is, Galen is ready to turn the job back over to His Royal Majesty. Maybe the humans don’t need to be watched. They have a blinking existence on the earth, much shorter than any Syrena, and then they’re gone. Just like Rachel.

Grom crosses his arms, straining the fabric in the borrowed flannel shirt he’s wearing. Emma’s father must have been of slighter build than him. “What do you suppose Antonis had to tell Emma? They were too quiet when they came in from the beach. Antonis’s shorts were dry. They’d obviously been out there a while.”

“What do I care?”

“You’d be a fool not to care. Antonis has always been … secretive.”

Galen leans against the back of the SUV and kicks at the gravel in the driveway. “Sounds like a Poseidon trait.”

Grom nods. “Yes. Exactly. Which is why you need to find out what they’re up to.”

“They’ve missed out on each other’s company for Emma’s entire life. Maybe they’re just catching up.”

“You don’t believe that. And neither do I.”

Grom is right. Galen doesn’t believe it. Sure, they have a lot to talk about. But Antonis rarely comes to shore. He’d have a purpose. A purpose he didn’t want anyone else to know. Still, it’s not worth starting off this trip with a potential argument. “Emma will tell me if she wants to.”

He glances at Grom, daring him to protest. They both know the Triton king wouldn’t try to force it out of his beloved Nalia. And they both know that even if he tried, he wouldn’t succeed.

Grom sighs. “Maybe you could ask her leading questions or something.”

But Galen can tell the subject is all but dropped. Grom hasn’t reached that level of hypocrisy just yet. Which is good, because Emma has grown particularly sneaky on her human feet as well.

“What are you talking about?” she says behind Grom. Galen can tell she doesn’t like the fact that his brother is wearing one of her father’s old shirts. “And more importantly, are we ready to get this party started?”

Nalia brushes past Galen and throws her arms around Emma. “Have a safe trip, sweetie.” Then she leans closer. Galen knows he’s not meant to hear what she says next. But he does. “I’ll have Grom in a new wardrobe by the time you get back. No more wearing Dad’s clothes.”

Galen walks away, giving them a moment. Even though he’s irritated with his brother just now, Galen feels sorry for Grom because he doesn’t even realize he’s being talked about. Or how much he’s imposing on Emma’s patience. Galen lightly punches his brother in the shoulder. “So, about that permission, Highness?”

Grom rolls his eyes. “Enjoy, minnow. Just remember, you and Emma aren’t mated yet so…”

Galen holds up his hand. “Grom.” This is not a discussion he ever planned to have with his brother. Or anyone, in fact.

“I’m just reminding you,” Grom says, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Galen feels. “Privacy presents many opportunities.”

A fact Galen knows well. He’s just not sure if he cares anymore. Keeping his hands off Emma is not something he’s good at. And he’s not sure how much he cares about the law anymore. The law was wrong about Half-Breeds, after all. Emma could never be an abomination. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

Grom seems relieved. “But privacy does allow for more conversation, so it still wouldn’t hurt if you could—”

He’s cut off when Nalia links her arm in his. “Toraf and Rayna left already,” she says. “Rayna requests that you bring her back something ‘interesting.’” The couple had come to see Emma and Galen off, but when Toraf felt the tension between Galen and Grom, he’d made up a reason for them to be excused. Galen wishes he’d had some time with them before leaving.

Galen smiles. “Of course she does.” He strolls around to the driver’s side. “See you in two weeks.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, just in case Grom wants him to ask permission for the amount of time they’re taking. Two weeks was just an estimate. Galen has the feeling that when he and Emma are actually alone together, two weeks won’t be enough.

At least, not for him.

5

AHEAD OF
us, the interstate looks like a river of cars running between the two mountains. My ears have been popping for at least an hour with the higher altitude. I keep glancing at Galen in the driver’s seat to see if he’s experiencing anything funky. Sometimes the water pressure affects my ears the deeper we go in the ocean. I wonder if Galen’s Syrena ears can adapt to any kind of pressure, or just the pressure caused by the deep blue sea.

He hasn’t complained about it, but that doesn’t mean anything. Actually, he hasn’t said much at all, which might mean something. Either he doesn’t notice how often I look at him, or he’s pretending not to notice. I get what that means: He doesn’t want to talk.

But letting him keep his thoughts to himself seems counterproductive, given the underlying reason for this trip. When my best friend Chloe died, I wanted to hole up and stop living. The possibility that Galen could be going through the same type of pain drives me crazy. Rachel was his best friend, maybe even more so than Toraf. And a mother figure, too. To lose both of those in one fell swoop is a devastating thing.

I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Thinking of her again?”

Galen gives me a wistful, forged smile that lasts only a second before his face falls again. Rachel’s death affected us all. We all could have done more. We all had a responsibility to look out for her. We all should have been more vigilant and kept track of her whereabouts the day we retrieved Jagen from the humans. Any of us could have prevented her drowning. But Galen is bent on stockpiling the blame on himself. And I’m bent on making him snap out of it.

I just haven’t figured out how yet.

“Actually,” he says, “I was thinking about what you and Antonis could have possibly talked about for so long yesterday.”

Oh. That.
I was wondering if/when he would ask. “Nothing much,” I say. Maybe I don’t want to talk after all. Not because I’m keeping a secret—I’m not. Not really. The truth is, I don’t know why Grandfather insists we travel to the belly button of Tennessee. But I do know that this weird scavenger hunt is important to him, and for some crazy reason, I’m willing to go along with it. And until now, I thought Galen was, too. He didn’t question it yesterday when I changed our course on the GPS from our original destination of the Cascade Mountains to the new target in the Smoky Mountains.

He turns the radio down. “What are we going to find in these mountains, Emma? Why is Antonis sending us here?”

My reflex is to be defensive, but I know Galen is on edge. Fighting with Galen is the last thing I want to do right now. I smile. “I’m just as curious as you are. Besides, he didn’t send us here, remember? We already said we were going to explore the mountains. He just made a suggestion of which ones to visit.” Meaning he pinpointed the entire middle of the state of Tennessee with his thumb on my cell phone. To scale, his thumb is about 150 miles on a map.

Galen shifts in his seat, leaning his elbow on the armrest of the door. “What exactly did he say?”

“He said to have a safe trip. And that he hopes I find what I’m looking for.” Which is true, and at the time, it didn’t sound nearly as questionable as it does now, even with the epic story he had to tell about searching for my mother. I’m not sure I’m adding anything new to what I’ve already told him about the conversation. It’s not like I’ve kept anything from him—I already explained why we changed course. And I thought he already accepted that. But Galen appears to be mentally dissecting every word my grandfather has spoken since birth.

Which makes me just a little suspicious about Grandfather’s motives myself. Did he anticipate Galen asking questions—and did he intentionally omit any solid answers? If so,
why
?

Galen glances at me sideways before looking back to the road. “He didn’t say anything else? Something that could have had a double meaning?”

“Are these your questions? Or Grom’s?”

Galen grimaces. “Grom did question me about it. But I have to admit, I’m curious. Maybe if you told me what he said, I could help figure out what he’s really up to.”

I wonder if the hatchet will ever be buried between Grom and my grandfather. And I’m not ecstatic that Grom is clearly influencing Galen’s opinion. “He said, ‘Freshwater fish are bland.’” I gasp. Obnoxiously. Dramatically. Flared nostrils and all. “Do you think that’s code for ‘I saw a spaceship’? Or maybe, ‘I’m really a Soviet android’? We should totally turn around and go back. Beat the answers out of him.”