Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

ex-Mafia.” I inhale, like I just admitted I’m ex-Mafia or something. It doesn’t help that Mom glares at me as if I just confessed to it, too.
    “Seriously, ex-Mafia? Like, the Mafia?”
    I nod.
    “Poseidon’s beard,” she mutters.
    I’m pretty sure I won’t get used to my mom using fishy cuss words anytime soon.
    “Try to lose her.”
    “It’s a long straight road with hardly any turns.”
    “Well, speed up!” She pops open the glove compartment. Then pulls out a freaking gun.
    “Mom—”
    “Don’t start. It’s just to scare her. Usually all you have to do is show someone that you have a gun and that you’re not going to take any crap—”
    “Did you hear what I said? She’s ex-Mob. Her gun probably eats guns like that for breakfast.”
    She clicks the gun like a pro and three bullets pop out into her hand. Watching your mother do something like this is surreal—even under the circumstances. “Three,” she breathes. “It’ll have to do.”
    Panic closes off my windpipe. “What happened to just showing it to her?”
    “Like you said. She’s ex-Mob.”
    “You can’t shoot her. You just can’t.” But she reloads like maybe she can. Suddenly I’m having a hard time staying in my lane on this long, straight road.
    “I’m not going to shoot her. I’m just going to shoot at her.” Then that freaking lunatic rolls down the window. “Besides,” she grunts, “if I wanted to kill someone, it would have been Rayna.” She hangs her head out and pulls the gun through with her.
    Options, options, options. Sometimes options are a luxury. Sometimes there is only one option, and usually that one option sucks. Like this time, for instance.
    So, I take my one option and swerve off the road.
    I hear the gunshot right before we hit.

6

    GROM IS playing a game on Galen’s cell phone when it rings. Startled, he drops it as if it burned his hand. Galen laughs before he can stop himself. Grom shoots him a sour look but hands him the phone.
    “Hey, Rachel,” Galen says, still grinning.
    “Where are you?” Her voice sounds shaken—something Galen’s never heard before.
    “We just passed a town called Freeport. Why?”
    “You’re close then. Good. I found Emma and her mom.”
    Relief swirls through him, but he knows better than to trust it. Especially with the way Rachel’s voice sounds strained. “Where? Are they with you?”
    “Galen.” Rachel never calls him Galen, only sweet pea. Even when she’s mad at him, she just says it through clenched teeth. Terror stabs him all over.
    “What? What is it?”
    “They were in a car accident. Her mom … I think her mom shot herself.” That last part sounded more like a question than a statement.
    “What?”
    “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she shot herself. In the shoulder. She didn’t do it on purpose and I don’t think it’s life threatening, but I haven’t seen it up close yet. There’s definitely blood. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to call an ambulance because of their … background. Unless you think I should.”
    Galen groans into the phone. Her mom shot herself . Calling an ambulance that will take her to a human doctor is a bad idea. According to Dr. Milligan, it’s immediately evident that the Syrena bone structure is much different from human’s. They can’t risk any kind of thorough exam of Nalia, like X-rays or extracting her blood.
    What else could possibly go wrong?
    “There’s something else,” Rachel says, making the hairs on his neck stand up.
    Galen answers her with an impatient grunt.
    “I’ve been shot, too. I can’t drive.”
    If Galen weren’t driving, he’d bang his head on the steering wheel. Hard. “How far away are we from you?”
    Rachel’s breath is short and fast. It’s possibly the worst sound he’s ever heard. “About thirty minutes yet.”
    He’s hoping she means it’s thirty minutes if he adheres to the posted speed limit. “Emma’s mother is a human nurse. Maybe she can help you.”
    “So far she hasn’t come over here. I think she’s about to skedaddle.”
    “Is skedaddling bad?”
    “It means she’s about to leave again, and I can’t follow.”
    “Try to stall them. I’ll be there soon, I swear it.”
    Galen hangs up and bears down on the gas pedal, ignoring Grom’s hand when it clutches his forearm. “Nalia’s been hurt, Grom. We need to get to her.” To his relief, his brother lets go.
    And Galen mashes the pedal to the floor.

7

    I WATCH as Rachel hangs