SEAMONSTER: An Aquarathi Novella (The Aquarathi)

SEAMONSTER

An
Aquarathi Novella

Amalie Howard

Dedication

For Kristi Cook, who is a story ninja and is made of awesome.

The first light of dawn streaks over the glassy, undisturbed surface of the ocean. It’
s my favorite time of day, when there’s no one around. I stare down, past my human-shaped feet to the water gently rocking at the base of the wooden pier. It’s so crystal clear that I can see the sandy bottom, nearly thirty feet below, pebbled with rocks and shells. Bright orange Garibaldi fish dart between the kelp fronds, catching the light and making me long to join them. The call of the ocean is tangible, tugging at me with invisible hands.

I glance back at the house—everyone is still asleep.
It would only be for a moment. No one would know. My skin twitches in anticipation, but then a wave of doubt makes it go away. Nerissa would know. Even though she isn’t the queen yet, she’s so connected to all of us that she would sense my transformation from boy to beast immediately. Then again, maybe she won’t care. She’s been so tied up in pretending to be human that she hardly remembers who she is anymore: an Aquarathi… a sea creature who belongs in the ocean, not on land where we’ve been stuck for the past two years with these insipid humans.

I understand only too well why we are here. My parents—
Echlios and Soren—are Nerissa’s handlers, responsible for her well-being while we live in the human world to acclimatize to their ways. It’s part of any Aquarathi heir’s coming-of-age cycle. While the humans are blissfully unaware of our existence, we are more than aware of theirs. My father had once told me that before we fled our world to this Earth, the hominids there had tried to enslave us to the detriment of the planet. Our ancestors had vowed never to let history repeat itself. And so we keep a close eye on the humans.

I grit my teeth. Still,
Nerissa is taking it to a whole new level. She never cared about being queen or any of her people. And now, free from all Aquarathi responsibility, she’s gotten worse than ever. Sometimes I think she likes it here more than there, and that scares me. I want to go home—to my friends, to my people, to Waterfell—down in the depths where I belong in my true form, not stuck in this constricting human one.

A wistful expression crosses the boy’s face reflected in the water. He looks not
hing like my real self. Instead, a skinny teenage human with a wild shock of white-blond hair sticking up in all directions and intense green eyes full of longing stares back at me. A shimmer of ridged gold scales fires its way down the boy’s cheek, making his eyes an inhuman shade of electric green for a second. A fan of luminous green fins appears beneath his chin as I allow the transformation to continue.

I am not a human. I am
Aquarathi.

I make my decision and slip into the warm embrac
e of the sea, letting my body continue its slow and careful metamorphosis. Shimmying out of my swim trunks, I hang them on a rusty nail on one of the splintered legs of the pier. I sink down to the bottom, the salt water like a velvet blanket, and feel my body expand as I swim out to deeper, cooler water. Human bones crack and elongate, the bulk of my torso pressing out into a round curved shape, fingers stretching to curved talons, and legs transforming into a sweeping, elegant green-finned tail. The entire process is quick now that I am in the deep.

I swim lazily, feeling the seawater undulate
in between my scales and around the fins spanning my length. Normally, I’d be more careful, but it’s early and there’s no one around. Plus, it’s an abnormally high tide so I don’t have to go as far out as usual. The rising sun turns the water molten gold, and I swim upward toward it. My eyes break the surface just out of the La Jolla Cove when I spot something—no, someone—standing on the top of The Clam.

It’s a
human girl—one who is staring right at me.

Panicked, I start to submerge when I realize that she’s not looking at me at all. She’s staring at the line between the sky and the sea, where the sun has taken up brief residence. Maybe she’s just watching the sunrise
—or not, as she takes a step closer to the edge, and then another, and another. Maybe she’s a cliff diver—one of those thrill seeker types who come out when the tides are over eight feet to jump Dead Man’s Cliff, the highest part of The Clam on the cliff side, rising over a hundred feet above sea level.

Then why is she
alone and why is she wearing a nightgown instead of a wetsuit? I can see the thin material whipping around her legs from where I am out in the middle of the cove.
It’s none of my business
, I tell myself. It’s none of my business why her hands are wound so tightly into the material, or why she keeps taking such purposeful steps to the edge. I exhale slowly as the girl turns around and walks back the way she’d come. I let out a sigh of relief—one that dies on my lips when she turns and sprints toward the edge.

The desolation on her face hits me like a tsunami, and I don’t even think. I dive and I swim
toward her as fast as I can. Her body hurtles toward the water, crashing into it with the force of a truck just as I reach her. She spirals down like a feather made of lead, her frail limbs splayed outward. The girl’s eyes are closed, a web of dark hair fanning around her face, and she is motionless. But I can still hear her heartbeat filtering through the water between us—short thrums of life growing further apart by the second.

Save her
, a voice in my head says—my conscience, perhaps.

She wanted to die
, I say back.

My conscience argues.
No one wants to die.

I nudge forward, my body slimming down and compressing into a half
-human, half-Aquarathi form, and gather the limp girl into my arms. Swimming carefully, I head into one of the seven caves at its base until we are out of sight. High tide makes it difficult to navigate the current, yanking at both of us. I pull the girl up onto a ledge, and hunch over her. She’s not breathing. Pushing the wet strands of hair out of her face, I shudder into full human, feeling the last vestiges of my Aquarathi form coalesce into place.

The girl’s eyes flutter open, settling like dark moths on me. “Who are you?”

“A friend,” I say hoarsely.

“Are you a
sea sprite?” she asks me.

I choke back a laugh
and retreat slightly into the shadows, wondering exactly what she is seeing. She must be disoriented. “Why would you ask that?”

“Your eyes. They’re like jewels, and your skin … glitters a bit.” Her eyes flick from me to the darkness around us
. She blinks and winces, touching her head and trying to pull herself up on her elbow. “Am I dead?”

“No, y
ou’re alive,” I reply, shrinking backward, acutely aware of my state of undress after shifting into human form. “I just wanted to help you.”

She licks
dry lips and swallows, a rush of shame flooding her face. “You can’t help me. No one can.”

I know I should leave, but I can’t. I stare up into the cave, eyeing the railing hooked into the walls. It’s
the Sunny Jim Cave—the only cave with land access. Any moment now, people might be coming down those stairs toward us.

“
What’s your name?” I ask, the bleak sound of her voice tugging against something deep inside my chest.

“
Does it matter?”

“Yes,” I say quietly.

“Anya,” she says on sigh, just as I hear other voices rumbling along the walls. The sound of her name is like an echo, fading with each passing second. Strangely, I want to stay and make sure she’s all right, but that would open up a whole host of questions I can’t begin to answer … the first of which would be why I’m naked. I peer up at Anya. She is lying there with her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. I can see the soft rise of her chest below her still-damp nightgown. She’s alive, and people are coming—they’ll find her and take care of her.

“Be safe,
Anya,” I murmur. I slip into the water and duck beneath the waves, transforming ever so slightly so that I can breathe comfortably underwater. I don’t resurface until I am near the wooden pier back in front of my house. I grab my shorts, re-clothe myself, and swim thoughtfully into shore.

Echlios
is waiting there, his face thunderous, and my stomach sinks. My father takes his duty—and our secrecy—very seriously. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere,” I say. “I needed to
shift. No one saw me.” I fight to keep my face straight when the lie leaves my lips. My father’s mouth tightens as if he can see right through me, but instead of ripping into me as I expect him to, he swipes at his brow wearily and nods.

“It’s tough on all of us, son
,” he says. “As long as you were careful.”

“I was,” I say. Anya likely won’t remember our encounter, and I probably won’t ever see her again.

“Come on, you’ll be late for work,” he says. “Lady Nerissa has already left. Sawyer’s dad gave her a ride.”

I cough quickly to cover my derisive snort. I don’t even know why we keep up the pretense.
Nerissa doesn’t want to be queen of Waterfell. If it were up to her, we’d remain here forever. I mean, I know she has her problems with her father and expectations and all that. But so does everyone. She needs to grow up and stop acting like she’s the only one she’s worried about.

My father sees my expression and sighs.
He’s no stranger to the recent tension between the heir apparent and me. “She’s young, Speio. Give her a chance. She needs to find herself.”

I fight an eye roll. “If by finding herself you mean forgetting she’s
Aquarathi, then where does that leave us? We’re bound to her to be here.”

“It’s only for a few more months. After the summer is over, perhaps she will be more amenable to returning.”

“And if she isn’t?”

“
Speio,” Echlios says, raking a hand through his brown hair. “This is our duty. It’s who we are. She is the heir to Waterfell, and our job is to protect her here. One day, when she becomes queen, you’ll be her main Handler. Now, come on, let’s go.”

“If we ever go back,” I grumble, but I follow him back up the beach.

My mother, Soren, greets me with a smile and a plate of food. I smile back, my frustration lifting. Everyone says I look like her—we have the same blond hair and green eyes. Hers, like mine, are now covered with the film that mimics human eyes, making them a more muted green than the brilliant jewel-tone they usually are. I kiss her cheek and take the proffered plate.

“Dad’s angry,” I tell her through a mouthful of yello
w-fin tuna, watching him pacing around the salt-water pool in the backyard. I’m very aware that if he weren’t preoccupied with something else, he would have torn into me down on the shore.

“
News from Waterfell,” she says, her brow furrowing.

I glance sharply at her. “What news?”

She stares at me for a beat, but answers the question. We don’t keep secrets, especially when it comes to Nerissa’s safety. “Rumblings of unrest,” Soren says. “That someone is plotting against the king. His guard has been tripled.”

“Ruby Court?” I ask. They’ve always been the most covetous of the royal courts, scheming to usurp power from the Gold Court to
take control of the High Court, and their queen is a particularly vicious brand of ruler. Ehmora. She scares
me
in Aquarathi form. Imagine what a monstrous sea serpent would look like, then make it a hundred times fiercer, and it would be her—all jet black scales and blood-inked eyes. She’s the stuff of nightmares and what most of the human stories of vicious sea monsters would be borne out of. I may look down on the humans, but Ehmora
hates
them.

“We aren’t sure.
Ehmora has the king’s ear.”

I fight back a shudder at the thought of
Ehmora being anywhere near Nerissa’s father. “Shouldn’t we—dad—be there? He is the head of the King’s Guard, after all.”

“For now, the safest place for Lady
Nerissa is here, Speio,” she says gently. “And your father has been tasked with her safety above all, even beyond the king’s.” She pauses, watching me as I struggle to conceal my raw emotions. “I know this has been hard for you, but you have to try to make this work. Try to fit in. Nerissa seems to have made a few friends this past school year. Surely you can do the same?” My mother’s fingers flutter to brush the crown of my head, her tone earnest. “At least while we figure out what’s happening in Waterfell.”

I take a bite of fish
, chewing slowly. I swallow the food, along with the acid words that are on the tip of my tongue. I don’t want to disappoint her by arguing. “I can try.”

But it’s a promise I know I won’t be able to keep. Try as I may, I can’t seem to find anything in common with the humans, not even
Nerissa’s circle of friends. I’d spent the last year of school like a shadow. I’d heard the word “creeper” mentioned on quite a few occasions, especially because I kept such a close watch on Dover Prep’s newest golden girl. Nerissa, like her father, is charismatic. And she is beautiful. People flock to her. It doesn’t matter that her attitude is crap and that she only cares about herself. Humans don’t seem to mind, and naturally, she thrives on the attention.

Back home in
Waterfell before we left, all of the Aquarathi treated her as if she were a spoiled, reckless child, so it’s no surprise that she prefers here to there. When her mother died, her father had given in to her every whim, raising a hellion instead of a princess, and while the Aquarathi had forgiven
him
, they’d belittled and rebuffed her.