Of Neptune

by Anna Banks

  Mom takes a minute to decipher my word vomit. “Your grandfather was wrong to send you there by yourself.”

  “Indeed I wasn’t!” I hear in the background.

  “You brought Grandfather?”

  “I brought everyone,” Mom says defensively. “Just in case.”

  I imagine Rayna and Toraf and Grom and Grandfather cramped in Mom’s tiny car. I wonder whose lap Toraf is going to sit on for the ride home, because it’s not going to be mine. “Where are you anyway?”

  “We just left the airport. We’re only about an hour out.”

  The airport? How did she get everyone on a plane on such short notice? They must have started making plans as soon as Grandfather spilled the beans yesterday.

  Also, Mom is starting to remind me of Rachel.

  “Listen, sweetie, are you alone?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “It’s important that you don’t tell anyone we’re coming.”

  “They know I’m calling you right now. They’re expecting you.”

  Mom huffs into the phone. “It never occurred to you that you could be in danger, Emma? That these people could be lying to you?”

  “What part of ‘Grandfather sent me here’ don’t you understand?”

  “He’s over two hundred years old, Emma. And so is his brain. Use your common sense!”

  If the phone had guts, I would have squeezed them out by now. I loosen my grip and try to control my voice. “And if I am in danger? Then what are you going to do? This is an entire town, Mom. You’re outnumbered.”

  Mom laughs softly into the phone. I recognize it immediately. It’s the “Try me” laugh. “We’ll simply have to do a hostage exchange.”

  “Hostage exchange?” I whisper-yell. “You’ve taken a hostage?”

  “Not yet. But with an entire town, like you said, one shouldn’t be too hard to come by.”

  “Ohmysweetgoodness this is not happening.” What a great ambassador I am. My family now thinks I’m imprisoned and are planning a hostage exchange. Awesome.

  “Don’t be so dramatic. We’re going to be on the outskirts of town. We’ll get you out of there as soon as we can.”

  “I don’t want to be out of here,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “We’ll talk about this later. Keep in touch. Remember, don’t tell anyone anything.”

  And then she hangs up.

  34

  HOW MANY kisses were there? Have I lost Emma entirely? Did I throw away everything I ever wanted with one disagreement?

  The questions contend for the forefront of his mind.

  How could she do this? But he knows that’s not fair of him. After all, he left on bad terms and never came back. Who knows what she could be thinking? Who knows what she’s been through without him? And if Reed was there to comfort her, then of course she would grow close to him.

  And is that so horrible? Reed is just like her. He’s a Half-Breed. He has the Gift of Poseidon. He has a normal “human” life. Everything Emma wants, all wrapped up in pale muscular packaging.

  If I really loved her, wouldn’t I want her to be happy?

  He grits his teeth. Yes, I do want her to be happy—I want her to be happy with me. And no pasty pile of bones is going to get in the way of that.

  “Galen, you have to talk to me. We’re getting out of here, remember?” says the pasty pile of bones.

  Galen slowly turns his attention away from the chains above him and assesses Reed with a cold look. “When we get out of here, I’m going to knock every one of your teeth out, then do a recount to make sure I’ve gotten them all.”

  “I understand that you’re mad.”

  “Mad?” Murderous would be more accurate. The thought of Reed’s lips on Emma’s sends lava through Galen’s veins. It reminds him of the time Toraf kissed Emma to make him jealous. Only this is much worse. That was before he and Emma were together, before he’d tasted her for the first time. Now she is going to be his mate.

  Reed knew that, yet still disrespected that very important boundary.

  And now I am going to disrespect his face.

  “You know what I would be worried about if I were you?” Reed says pleasantly.

  Galen decides Reed doesn’t seem to value his tongue. “Stop talking.”

  “It’s just that you’re not asking the most important question here. It’s something I would want to know. If I were you.”

  A growl erupts from deep within Galen. His curiosity is piqued and Reed knows it. Morbid as it sounds, he wants the details, to know exactly what happened. How did it happen? Where were they? How did Emma react?

  And then again, he doesn’t want to know any of it. The images in his head will never go away as it is. It’s a soft sort of rot, the idea of them kissing. A rot that will always hide in the confines of his organized heart, like an underlying illness or a scar. “You said that already.”

  Reed kicks out in futile frustration. “Galen, stop being an idiot. Oh, yes, I’m talking to you. What I’m trying to tell you is, she didn’t kiss me back.”

  “Of course, she didn’t.” He says it with all the air of a Triton Royal, but deep down, relief swirls through Galen. Emma rejected Reed. Even after our fight and all the things I said. The realization has a calming effect, cooling the lava running through his veins, slowing the pulse in his temple threatening to burst through his thick skin.

  Even his teeth remember to ungrind.

  “Well, you don’t have to say it like that.”

  “I trust Emma.”

  “Yeah, I get that. But I mean if you think about it, I would be considered a good catch.”

  “Be serious.”

  Reed leans his head back against the wall. “Do you know she actually apologized to me for choosing you?”

  “I would have rather she dislocated your nose.” Still, Galen acknowledges the significance here. She didn’t just reject Reed—she chose Galen. Out loud. Even when he disappeared for three days without calling.

  Even when she has another option—and a good one at that. Reed is a good catch, he knows. He has the ease of a human life to offer her. She could have Neptune and everything it represents—companionship, belonging, safety. To Galen, such circumstances seem perfect.

  But she chose me. I’m going to make this up to her. All of it.

  Galen sits up straight. “A few minutes ago when you were babbling—did you say you had an idea to get us out of here?”

  35

  A KNOCK on the door startles me awake.

  One of the guards—I think his name is Tyrden—pokes his head in. “Everything okay in here?” he says. Tyrden is the friendlier of the two. The other one was assigned to duty, and he seemed disappointed to be supervising a teenage girl when he could be out looking for Reed’s kidnapper. But Tyrden volunteered to keep an eye out for me. So that was nice.

  I sit up on the couch and motion for him to come in. “I guess I fell asleep.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He folds his hands in front of him, like he doesn’t have any intention of leaving. Obviously, he takes this whole babysitting thing seriously.

  I’m not really in the mood for company though. Not with the thought of Galen out there in the wild, alone and possibly in danger—plus, the very real probability that my mom is going to go all Rambo on Neptune. Still, I can’t be rude to Tyrden—he might be the only person left in this town genuinely concerned for my welfare.

  I give him a tight smile. In the light, I notice that he has a black eye. His lip looks swollen, too. He observes me observing him. “Don’t mind my little cuts and scrapes,” he chuckles. “I just fell down some stairs.”

  I nod knowingly. I get war wounds like that all the time. It’s a clumsy-person thing. “Have they found Reed yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  I stretch my arms up over my head. Then I reach for my phone in my back pocket and check the time. Mom should be strategizing World War III from just outside of town right about now.

/>   “Expecting a call?” Tyrden says.

  “No, just checking the time.”

  He nods absently, walking to each of the basement windows and locking them with a kind of careful deliberation. After he secures every one, he slides the shades down as well. “It’ll be dark out soon. Don’t need Kennedy snooping around and finding you.”

  I didn’t think the windows posed any kind of threat, but I suppose if Kennedy were super-ambitious, he could finagle himself through one of them—with enough grease and wriggling. And of course, if the goal is to kill me, he did have a gun. Good for Tyrden for being meticulous. “Thank you,” I tell him.

  He nods graciously, then eases down on the couch next to me, coming close to invading my space. Aw-kward.

  “I thought I could tell you a story,” he says. “To keep your mind off things.”

  “Um. Okay.” Because what else am I supposed to say?

  “Let’s see. Where to begin? Oh, yes.” He leans toward me. “Did you know I used to run this town?”

  “No,” I say, trying to sound interested. The same polite interest you show when a person starts talking about how they knitted a sweater for their pet hamster.

  He nods. “Well, I did. That was before Reder decided he would be better at it, you see. Though I don’t really think he’s proven himself, do you?”

  Talk about being put on the spot. “Um. I haven’t really been here long enough to judge one way or the other, you know?” I should get a trophy for my evasion skills.

  Tyrden purses his lips. “That’s a good point. And how rude of me. I’d forgotten to ask how you’re enjoying your stay here in Neptune? Current circumstances aside, of course.”

  “I like Neptune. Everyone here is so friendly.” I would expound on that with things like, “I fit right in,” or “It’s nice not to be an outcast here,” but I’m sticking with short answers for Tyrden. I mean, he might be one of those people who doesn’t shut up after they’ve started talking, and he’s already promised to tell me a story. I’d rather get on with it.

  “Word is your grandfather sent you here. Does he plan on visiting anytime soon?”

  Yep. In about an hour. “He never mentioned visiting. I think he just wanted me to see this place for myself.”

  Tyrden nods knowingly. “He probably still has his hands full back home, huh? What with the uprising Jagen caused.”

  My stomach feels like I swallowed an anvil. “What? You know about that?”

  The smile that Tyrden gives me sends chills just about everywhere. “Of course, I do, Emma. The whole thing was my idea.”

  Suddenly, there’s a thump against the basement door. Still reeling from our conversation, I fold my knees up to my chest as Tyrden gets up to investigate. He pulls a gun I didn’t know he had from the back of his jeans and aims it toward the door, walking with slow purpose. I feel fear and hope melting through me. Fear that Kennedy has found me. Hope that someone else has and is here to rescue me from Tyrden.

  Several long seconds pass, and still nobody knocks on the door.

  “Frank, is that you?” Tyrden calls, then presses his ear close to the door. I think Frank is the name of the other guard. When Tyrden gets no answer, he unlocks the door, careful not to make any noise. With one quick, smooth motion he pulls it open and repositions his gun for firing.

  And the other guard slumps to Tyrden’s feet in a pile. My throat closes up around a scream.

  “Ah, Frank,” Tyrden says, hauling him into the room by his limp arm, dragging him across the carpet behind him as if he were carry-on luggage. “So glad you could join us. I was just about to tell Emma a story.” He dumps Frank along the basement wall, then pats him down, which produces a small handgun. Tyrden tucks it behind him and smiles at me. His eyes are wild.

  “Is … Is he dead?” I ask. I’m holding myself tightly together with my arms, but I can’t stop shaking.

  Tyrden shrugs. “Not from what I gave him. But the fall down those steep stairs?” He shakes his head, making a tsk-tsking sound. “Lots of broken bones if you ask me.” Then he kicks Frank in the stomach—hard. “But at least he’s unconscious enough not to feel it, right?”

  All at once, the room becomes smaller. The locked windows, the drawn shades, the unconscious guard strewn against the wall like a bag of trash. It all closes in on me, suffocating my hope.

  The detached look in Tyrden’s eyes as he raises his gun at me. I am not safe. “Let me tell you about how I came to know Jagen.”

  36

  OBVIOUSLY MR. Kennedy isn’t concerned that his prisoners will escape; it’s been hours since Galen woke up, and there has been no sign of their captor. Still, Galen and Reed sit at the ready, waiting to spring their trap, growing stiff and sore with the tension of anticipation.

  “If the Archives accepted Emma as a Half-Breed, why wouldn’t they accept Neptune?” Reed drawls, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand. He and Galen have been sitting long enough to scratch the surface of a few topics. And for Reed, it keeps going back to the subject of Half-Breeds. “I mean, what’s the big deal now?”

  “Why are you so interested in what the ocean dwellers think? You’re here, aren’t you? You exist, don’t you? It seems to me that what they think about Neptune never really mattered in the first place. What’s the point in worrying about it?”

  Reed’s jaw hardens. “Maybe it does matter. Maybe some of us would like the freedom to explore the oceans, too. Without, you know, getting speared in the shorts and whatnot.”

  Galen grins despite himself. “I didn’t say they wouldn’t accept Neptune.” I didn’t say they would, either.

  “But you don’t think the Archives will go for it.”

  “It’s a big decision.”

  “The Archives have too much power if you ask me.”

  “Saying things like that won’t help your cause, idiot.”

  “What, are you going to tell on me?”

  Galen rolls his eyes. “Of course not. I’m helping you out, remember? You won’t be able to run your mouth with a broken jaw.”

  “You’re never going to get over it, are you? It was just a test kiss. I’ll never do it again. I’m not a stalker, you know. But there was this one second where I thought she might—”

  “I swear by Triton’s trident if you don’t stop talking about it—”

  “Did Triton really have a trident?”

  “I’m done talking.”

  Reed grimaces. “Sorry.” But after a few more minutes, Reed opens his mouth again. “Can I ask you a question? Why are you wearing a diaper?”

  “I had to tie my jeans around my … Just shut up.”

  But Reed has no filter. “You know, my dad’s a great negotiator. All he needs is a chance to talk to the Archives. Do you think Grom would—did you hear that? Someone’s coming.”

  Both Galen and Reed make a show of relaxing, though every muscle in Galen’s body threatens to riot. They have to be smarter than Mr. Kennedy this time around. And so far, they haven’t shown any promise in that regard.

  Heavy boots resound on the wooden steps outside, and there’s the squeaky rustling sound of metal on metal. A latch, maybe? Mr. Kennedy strides in, all confidence, standing taller than before, his hair in perfect order, his glasses gone. “Hello, boys,” he says in a deeper voice than Galen remembered.

  There’s something familiar about Kennedy when he’s not wearing glasses.

  With a loud clunk, Mr. Kennedy sets a large metal lock on the table. They’d been locked in from the outside. Good to know—if this plan doesn’t work.

  Which it probably won’t, Galen thinks to himself.

  But his job is to be all confident and stubborn. It’s Reed’s job to be scared and nervous and pliable. Mr. Kennedy smiles at Galen, then at Reed across the room. “You two been plotting on how to escape, I hope? Oh,” Kennedy says, slapping his knee as he sits on the table. “I do hope it’s interesting. It’ll be at least a day before my backup arrives. Ooops? Did I give you a tidbit of
information for you to steal away and compute and think about when you should be resting or planning an escape?” Then he throws his head back and laughs. “I’ve never considered myself the bad guy before. Bad guys are always much cooler than me, after all. I’m just a lonely, awkward botanist, right?”

  Galen thinks Mr. Kennedy might have lost his mind. And he’s weary of dealing with lunatics.

  “But at least, I’ll be a rich botanist,” Mr. Kennedy continues. “Oh, Galen, look at your fists. You’ll just have to relax. Or I can give you something to relax, hmmm?” He pulls a dart out of his lab coat pocket. “Remember your little friend here? Probably the best sleep you’ve ever experienced, eh?”

  The sound of rustling chains draws Kennedy’s attention from Galen. “And Reed, are you actually shaking? I tried to warn you of the dangers of being in the woods, didn’t I though? But you had none of it. So gallant you are, willing to brave the dangers of predators just to impress little Emma. That backfired, huh? At first, I didn’t want it to be you, Reed. Because you were so helpful to me all those other times. But at the café, something about you changed. You got cocky. Rude. And you idiotically divulged where you two would be alone that afternoon. I can’t afford to miss such gift-wrapped opportunities. Of course, you understand, right?”

  Reed’s lip quivers. He’s doing a good job of portraying petrified. “Wh-wh-what are you going to do to us? My dad will come looking for us.”

  Kennedy’s lips press together. “Yes, Emma will see to it that he does. Oh, in case you were wondering, your little love interest got away. I’m a terrible shot, I have to say.”

  Galen springs from the wall and is jolted back by the heavy chains. He couldn’t act this angry if he wanted to. Real, unfiltered fury wells in his chest. “If you hurt her—”

  “Oh, now,” Mr. Kennedy says, “aren’t you the wild card, Galen? You leave, you come back, you leave again.… Where have you been, anyway? But don’t worry. Good ol’ Reed has been keeping an eye on Emma for you. He’s been most attentive if I do say so myself.”

  “But not as attentive as you, apparently,” Galen growls. “You’re not a botanist, are you?” He pulls at his chains with all the aggression of a caged shark.