Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

helped him more with little things. Like wash his car without complaining for once. When he left his coffee cup in the sink, would it have killed me to just wash it and put it away? I could have listened better when he talked about his childhood. Told him “I love you” without him having to tell me first.
    This, the guilt, will be the hardest part for Galen. He already takes responsibility for so much that isn’t his fault. He will somehow blame himself for Rachel’s death. He will fall into a spiral of remorse, into a self-made pit of regret.
    And I silently promise him to catch him when he does.
    The Trackers around us work in respectful silence, gathering the human survivors together in boats, ready to send them on their way to the next island. The original plan was to swim them over, but since a few of the boats could be salvaged, it was decided that it would be best to let them go alone. After all, they have a fantastic story to tell, and chauffeuring them along would only lend credibility to it.
    When boats take off, Grom motions for everyone to submerge. We follow quietly and gather around him at the bottom of the ocean. Only Galen remains at the surface. And Rachel.
    “This area is off limits to our kind,” Grom says. “Humans have seen us here, and their stories will spread to more humans. Some will believe them, some will not. Those that do might come to investigate. We will not give them anything to find here.”
    His command is met with solemn nods. “You must also realize,” he continues, “that it is only a matter of time now before this happens again. Maybe not in our generation, maybe not in the next. But the time is coming when humans will find us. We all must think about what this means for us individually, but most importantly, for our kind. Go home now to your families. Tell them what has happened. Talk with them about what might.”
    The crowd of Trackers and other volunteers disperses and we are left alone with one another and our thoughts.
    Mom wraps her arms around me, careful to avoid my wound. “How are you holding up?” she whispers. I shrug. There is truth in a shrug. The truth is that there is no answer.
    “Me, too,” Mom says. “Me, too.”
    “I think Toraf should come to Galen’s house to recover,” Rayna says to Grom. There is no fight left in her. Just words and feelings. “I think we should ask Dr. Milligan to come look at him.”
    Grom nods. He is not in the mood for conflict, either. “I think you’re right, little sister.” He motions to the Trackers who hold an unconscious Toraf in their arms. “Take Princess Rayna and her mate wherever she bids you.” He turns to his sister and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. “Send word if you need anything from me.”
    Mom had wrapped Toraf’s side with seaweed to stave off the bleeding, but a small red stain is starting to soak through. He had a close call and we all know it. Just because his organs were spared doesn’t mean his muscles will heal correctly. I hadn’t thought of calling Dr. Milligan. I’m glad Rayna did. Besides, Dr. Milligan will want to be updated on all the latest events. And we have to tell him about Rachel.
    Rayna throws her arms around Grom in a fierce, short hug. “I will. I really will.”
    This chokes me up a bit. Even Mom appreciates the obvious upgrade in their relationship—and she doesn’t even like Rayna. She gives my shoulder another squeeze. I pat her hand and lean into her. We’ve all been through so much. But we’ve been through it together. Even Grom and Rayna are grateful for each other today.
    When Rayna and the Trackers leave, Grom glances topside. Then he lets his gaze settle on me. “Young Emma.” It doesn’t sound condescending at all, the way he says it. Just wistful. “The twins will need you now. More than they realize.” He eases closer to me, pensive. “It was difficult for them when we lost our mother. Losing Rachel is … They suffered a great loss today.”
    I draw in a breath. If we weren’t underwater, tears would be spilling down my cheeks instead of getting sopped up by the gentle current. I wonder how many tears the ocean has swallowed, how much of the ocean is actually made of tears.
    “Grom, I hate to ask something like this, but what will we do with her body?” Mom says.
    “What do humans normally do with their dead?”
    “They bury them on land, or burn them. But the humans have rules and restrictions on that sort of thing. And Rachel