Of Poseidon

tactful. But she was just trying to goad Emma into telling the truth—” Toraf stops short when they hear a splash. The dark head surfaces first, then the white one. The girls struggle to find their footing, bracing themselves against waist-high waves in knee-deep water.
    The look on Rayna’s face is all he needs to see. Galen shakes his head. “Well, here we go.”
    “You are one of us!” Rayna screeches, pointing at Emma. But Emma doesn’t notice the index inches from her eyeball. She stares into the water as if searching for something.
    Toraf sticks his big toe in and nods to Galen. He can sense Emma.
    Emma stays frozen as wave after wave smacks into her. She glances around her at the beach, past it to the house, then up at the storm. She wraps her arms around herself, settling her stare on Rayna as if she’s seeing her for the first time. As if she doesn’t know where she is or how she got there.
    Rayna’s lip quivers. She hugs herself like Emma. “But … but if you’re one of us … that means you really could have saved…” Rayna shakes her head. “You didn’t even try! You let her die!”
    “I tried!” Emma sobs. “He wouldn’t let go. It was just a game to him! He wasn’t even hungry!”
    Galen gasps. She’s right. The way the shark writhed and pulled. The way it latched on to Chloe’s leg, instead of going for more meat. That shark tried to play with Emma. Chloe was just a means to an end. A sea-grass rope in a game of tug. Did Emma realize it at the time? Could she read the shark’s intentions, or did she think about it later? He shakes his head. These questions will have to wait—Emma is wavering like seaweed in high tide.
    He sloshes into the water, wraps his arms around her. “It’s okay, Emma. I’ve got you.”
    “What’s happening to me? Is it my head?”
    He presses her cheek against his chest. “Shhh. Calm down, Emma. It’s not your head. This is your secret. What I know that you don’t.” He strokes her sopping hair, sets his chin on her head. When Rayna’s mouth drops open, he flashes her a warning look. Her eyes go wide. “What are you doing ?” she mouths. He rolls his eyes. I wish I knew.
    “What secret? I don’t understand. Not any of it,” Emma whimpers into the sanctity of his chest. Her whole body wracks with the force of her sobs.
    “Emma,” he murmurs against her hair. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in. But this isn’t half of it. I want to show you the rest. Will you let me?” He strokes her cheek with the back of his hand. After a few deep breaths, she nods. He turns her around, wraps his arms around her waist, moves them away from Rayna.
    He’s thought about this moment for days, trying to anticipate how Emma will react, how he should handle it. The possibility that she’ll be disgusted is very real to him now and more painful than he could ever imagine. She said she wouldn’t reject him anymore, but that was before he grew a fin. This could be the last time he holds her, the last time he feels the fire of her touch. He wants to savor the moment, to make the moment so much more, but Rayna is looking at him like he’s grown an extra head. He sighs, tightens his hold on Emma. No turning back now.
    “Hold your breath,” he whispers in her ear.
    “Hold my breath ?” she gasps, peering down at the water.
    He nods against her cheek, appreciating the silkiness of her skin, almost iridescent in the storm. “For now. But not always. Are you holding it?”
    She nods.
    He catapults backward—and under.

11
    THIS CAN’T be happening. With his arms around my waist, I can’t see his face as he pulls me deeper and deeper. We slice through the water so fast I shouldn’t be able to keep my eyes open—but I can. We’re too far down to see the storm on the surface anymore, to hear the thunder reverberate. I should be freaking out. But just like earlier on the couch, Galen’s arms feel like a rope, a lifeline, all knotted with muscles wound tight around me.
    The deeper we go, the darker it gets, but my eyes seem to adjust. In fact, they more than adjust—my vision sharpens down here. At first, it’s like someone turned off the lights—everything is just a shadow. But the shadows take shape, turning into fish or rocks. Then everything appears plain as day, as if someone turned the light back on . But we’re moving deeper, not closer to the surface. Where is the light coming from?
    And where are we going? We pass schools of fish that