Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch

empty living room. “He must have taken himself up to bed.”
     
    “Drunk?” Caleb asked.
     
    “Sleeping,” Lucy repeated firmly. She didn’t want to make trouble, any more trouble, between her father and her brother.
     
    “He could have come tonight. To your end-of-year program. ”
     
    “I didn’t expect him to.”
     
    Caleb snorted. “You should. He—”
     
    The Jeep door opened and a woman stepped down onto the gravel. A young woman—well, youngish—and medium tall, with wide, dark eyes and waving dark hair and skin as pale and perfect as the inside of a shell.
     
    Lucy’s jaw dropped. This was Caleb’s stray?
     
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    She glided toward the house with a graceful assurance that fit her better than the wrinkled pediatric scrubs she wore. Despite the police windbreaker around her shoulders and the stark white bandage on her head, she looked sophisticated, confident, exotic. Like a movie star in Africa.
     
    “This is Maggie,” Caleb said matter-of-factly. Lucy wondered if her brother was even aware of the warmth in his eyes, the subtle possessiveness of his hand at the woman’s waist as he guided her up the last step. “Maggie, my sister, Lucy.”
     
    Lucy met that wide, dark gaze and heard a roaring in her ears like the sound of the sea. Everything inside her expanded, squeezing the air from her lungs. She opened her mouth to breathe.
     
    Confusion flitted across the woman’s face. “Your sister? But...”
     
    Caleb’s expression sharpened. “What is it? Do you recognize each other?”
     
    The pressure in Lucy’s chest increased. It wasn’t recognition. More like heartburn. She dragged in a breath and held it the way she had taught herself to do, until everything inside her was forced back into its proper place.
     
    “N-no,” the woman said slowly. “I just— For a moment, I thought . .
    . It’s nothing.”
     
    Lucy breathed again. “Would you like some tea?”
     
    “No. I am tired. I would like to sleep.”
     
    She could have said thank you, Lucy thought. “I’ll show you to your room, then.”
     
    “I’ll do it.” Caleb touched her arm briefly. “You go make us tea. I’ll join you in the kitchen after I get Maggie settled.”
     
    Lucy smiled with amusement and a touch of wistfulness. Settled?
    What was her brother planning to do? Read her a story and kiss her good night?
     
    But of course, she didn’t tease him.
     
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    “The bed’s already made up,” she said. “Good night.”
     
    The humans’ house was dark and cramped and smelled of earth and must, of cooked food and worked metal. It was both alien and ordinary, with no hint or sign of the amazing burst of power that had punched Margred on the threshold.
     
    “What was that about?” Caleb asked as he followed her down the hall.
     
    “I’m not sure.” Margred struggled for an explanation that would satisfy them both. “Perhaps, as you said, I have met your sister before.”
     
    “And both of you have forgotten all about it,” Caleb said dryly.
     
    She turned to face him. “Do you remember everyone you have met?”
     
    “Pretty much. Yeah. All part of the job.”
     
    All part of the man. Margred gave herself a moment to admire him, the thoughtful green eyes, the long, strong jaw, the sensitive mouth. He was dogged and concerned, observant and conscientious.
     
    Easy to use, she thought, but difficult to deceive.
     
    She changed the subject. “Where am I sleeping?”
     
    “In here.” He opened a door for her.
     
    Margred glimpsed the pair of neat beds with plain brown spreads, one turned down invitingly to reveal crisp white linens, and arched one eyebrow. “Two beds?”
     
    Had he decided to stay with her after all?
     
    “This was my room,” Caleb explained without a blink. “Mine and my brother’s.”
     
    “And where is he sleeping?”
     
    “No idea. He moved out when I was ten.”
     
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    She stood in the center of the worn beige carpet to survey the small paneled room. Bare walls with a king’s ransom in books crammed casually on one shelf. No pictures. No decorations. Only some shiny statuettes holding laurel wreaths and a few photographs tacked over a desk. She identified a row of unsmiling young men as an athletic team and the child with the baby on his lap as Caleb holding Lucy. The boy standing beside them was a few years older.
     
    “This is your brother?”
     
    Caleb hitched his thumbs into his back pockets. “Yeah.”
     
    She bent to look.