Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch

you need him to go to the station?” Maggie asked.
     
    He wasn’t questioning the guy in front of her. “Why did you slap him?”
     
    She shrugged. “He annoyed me.”
     
    “Good enough for me. Jeep’s that way,” Caleb said, gesturing up the hill.
     
    Offshore, the waves churned, up and down, like a washing machine’s agitation cycle. Caleb eyed the white water and thought, Rip current .
     
    “You can’t make me go anywhere,” Skinny sneered.
     
    Caleb’s jaw set. What was this, fifth grade? He pushed away a memory of Dylan yelling, tearful, dancing out of their father’s reach. You can’t make me .
     
    “You don’t have the power,” the man added scornfully. “I have power.”
     
    Caleb tapped his chest. “I’ve got a badge.” More than his anger, more than his gun, that gave him authority to act. “Let’s go.”
     
    And then the sea reared up like a living thing and struck the beach in a ten-foot wave.
     
    The surge smashed into Caleb, knocking him off his feet, carrying him in a rush up the beach. Water and sand roiled around him, roaring in his ears, blocking his nostrils, green and gray and gold speckled with grit and bubbles.
     
    178
    The wave hurled and rolled him, scraped and raked him. His boots dragged like weights over the rocks. He fought the surge, struggling for balance. For breath.
     
    Panic squeezed his lungs. Maggie .
     
    He clawed free of the undertow, staggering to his feet, and saw her standing a few yards away, her wet, white clothes clinging to every perfect curve, ankle deep in foaming water.
     
    She pushed her sopping hair back from her face. “Now I am really annoyed.”
     
    Caleb almost grinned. He coughed to clear his lungs and spat, wiping salt from his mouth. “Where is he? Where’s—”
     
    The man who claimed to be Dylan.
     
    Maggie shielded her eyes against the bright sunshine, gazing out at the impossibly calm sea. The quiet water withdrew, whispering, leaving her bare feet planted firmly on a patch of sand. “There.” She pointed to a sleek, dark head bobbing through the waves offshore. “Say good-bye to your brother.”
     
    “Fuck,” Caleb said wearily and reached for his phone. Would it still work?
     
    “What are you doing?”
     
    “Calling for rescue. He’s caught in the tide.”
     
    “He’s not caught. See?” She put her hand on his wet sleeve, compelling him to look. “He’s swimming.”
     
    Caleb watched. Instead of being sucked out to sea at top speed by the current, the black, bullet-shaped head appeared to be moving easily, parallel to the shore. “He’s still too far out. He can’t swim that long.
    Nobody could.”
     
    “No man.”
     
    Caleb frowned. “That’s what I said.”
     
    179
    “No man can swim that long. Dylan can.” Maggie smiled at him, her eyes sane and a little sad. “Your brother is not human, Caleb.”
     
    180
     

Fourteen
     
    CALEB’S FACE CLOSED LIKE A CLAMSHELL, SMOOTH and
    hard.
     
    Margred’s heart sank. He did not look like her lover. He looked like .
    . . well, like a man who spent his days questioning the actions and motivations of other men. She almost wished her words back.
     
    Too late.
     
    She had owed him the truth since he rescued her on the beach. Since she learned of his mother’s identity. Maybe from the moment he first came in her body and whispered his name in her hair.
     
    “You’ve had a shock,” he said. Polite. Detached. “Let me take you to see Donna Tomah.”
     
    He did not believe her.
     
    She had not expected him to, and yet she was tempted to smack him the way she had slapped his brother.
     
    “I do not need a doctor. I need you to listen.”
     
    "Oh, I’m listening. You ought to have your head examined. ”
     
    Her lips drew back from her teeth. “You said you wanted the truth.”
     
    “That’s right. Facts, not fairy tales.”
     
    “So you will not listen to any facts that do not fit your particular theories?”
     
    That got him, she saw with satisfaction. His mouth flattened to a thin, grim line. “Right. All right. Go ahead.”
     
    181
    But now that she had his attention, the enormity of her task overwhelmed her. She touched the necklace around her throat. For reassurance? “I am not sure where to start.”
     
    His expression did not soften, but his green eyes, meeting hers, were patient and steady. Caleb’s eyes.
     
    Cop’s eyes.
     
    “The beginning is usually a good place,” he said.
     
    Margred opened her mouth.