by Kelly, Holly
“What? No, of course not,” Sara answered, feeling foolish.
“Just a minute.” Xanthus left and came back with a towel.
“So what is the one question you want to ask me?” He looked doubtful. The couch sagged as he sat down next to her.
“Why were you so angry after saving that woman?” Sara saw his eyes darken at that question.
“I was angry with myself,” he said. “That night, when I saved that human, I broke one of Triton’s most basic rules. I am never to interfere in the lives of humans unless they threaten our way of life or me. I misused the power he granted me. It was a breach of trust.” Xanthus paused and sighed. “I just didn’t want you to see a woman fall to her death. Then when you asked me how I saved her, it was like having an accusation flung in my face. I was angry with myself. I acted dishonorably.”
“Are you sorry you saved her?”
“No. I’m not sorry I saved her. But my personal feelings shouldn’t supersede Triton’s commands. Was that all you wanted to ask me?” He smiled but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Sara gave half a smile back. “No, there is another.” She scrunched her brows in confusion. “How in the world can you fly?”
Xanthus’s smile turned genuine. “I don’t fly. I hover.”
“Fly. Hover. Whatever. How did you do it?”
“See this these bands?” He pulled his sleeve up to show the familiar metal band around his bicep. He also had matching ones on his other bicep and waist.
“Yes.” Sara nodded as she looked at the gold band with the strange writing.
“They are maj bands. You humans might call them anti-gravity bands.”
“Oh, wow. That’s really cool.” Sara reached out, touched the metal, and traced the strange writing. “Is that another gift from Triton?”
“No. This one was a gift from Calypso to all her descendants. We’ve had them for about a hundred years.”
“So you grew up with them?” Sara draped the towel around her shoulders.
Xanthus looked away. “Actually, I was around a while before they were gifted to us.”
“Excuse me?” Sara’s pulled on his arm. “I must have heard you wrong. I thought you’ve had them for a century.”
He cleared his throat and shrugged. “I did.”
“How old are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Xanthus…” Sara said.
He paused as if to brace himself for her reaction. “I’m a hundred and sixty-four.”
“A hundred and sixty-four? How can you be a hundred and sixty-four? You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”
“Sara, we Dagonians are immortal. I’ll look exactly this way for the rest of my life.”
“What do you mean, you’re immortal?”
“We don’t get old, we don’t get ill, and we only die from serious physical trauma.”
“So I’m half-Dagonian right? Am I immortal too?”
“I don’t know.” Xanthus shrugged. “Since you’re half-human, you may suffer from human ailments. Have you ever been sick?”
“I had food poisoning when I ate some bad chicken.”
Xanthus shook his head. “That doesn’t count. That was your body’s way of getting rid of rancid food. But you’ve never had a cold, flu, fever?”
Sara shook her head.
Xanthus sighed in relief. “That’s a good sign.”
Sara nodded. She was having a hard time accepting what he was saying. Could she really live forever? Was she one of them? Then a thought struck her.
“How did you know I was a Dagonian?” Sara turned, leaned against the corner of the couch, and tucked her fin up underneath her.
Xanthus looked embarrassed at her question, but still he answered. “I could smell you.”
“Smell me? Why? Do I stink?” she asked, appalled.
“No, you smell good. Beyond good.” The last part he spoke so low she’d almost missed it.
“So, do all Dagonians smell like I do?”
“Only females when they are… fertile. It is a very compelling scent. You actually smell quite different from the typical female, although it’s much more appealing to me than any other I’ve come in contact with. It must be the human in you.” Xanthus cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable with these questions.
“How often are we fertile?” Sara didn’t care whether these questions were embarrassing to him. This was her life, darn it.
“Once a year, for about two weeks.”
“Oh. That’s why I only have a period once a year.” Had she just said that out loud? That would go under the heading “TMI” (too much information).
“So, I really am half-Dagonian?” Sara asked. “I actually come from the sea? Oh my gosh, my mom isn’t crazy. She really was trying to send me to my father when she tossed me off a cliff.”
“She did what?” Xanthus shouted. Sara was embarrassed. She shouldn’t have said anything.
“It was years ago,” she said, trying to shrug off what had been the most traumatic day of her life.
“Tell me what happened.”
Sara was a bit irked at his tone, but she answered anyway. “My mom couldn’t handle the pressure of raising me and tried to send me off to live with my father.”
“So she tossed you off a cliff into the ocean? How old were you?”
“I’m not sure. I think I was four or five.”
“No wonder you were afraid of the water. How long was it before she returned for you?” Xanthus’s voice was strained.
“It seemed like a very long time, but it must have been less than a day. I didn’t have to spend the night clinging to that rock, thank goodness. To my mom’s credit, she did have to climb down some very jagged rocks to retrieve me. We both ended up with quite a few cuts and bruises.”
Xanthus growled. “The more I learn about your mother, the less I like that woman.”
“Yeah, she’s not the sanest person. She is beautiful though, which is probably why she attracted the attention of a Dagonian. I wonder who my father is.”
“I have no idea. Most Dagonians avoid humans at all costs. I’m shocked one of us got close enough to father a child. But whoever he is, if he’s found out, it will mean a death sentence. Intentional contact with a human is forbidden and carries with it a capital punishment. Procreating with one would be much worse.”
“So where does this leave me? What will happen to me if I’m found out?” A worried crease pinched Sara’s forehead as she gnawed on her bottom lip.
“Nothing will happen to you,” Xanthus said in dark, even tones. Sara heard an unusual popping sound and looked down. Xanthus’s fingers were gripping the couch cushion so hard that he’d ripped the fabric at the seam.
“But how can you be sure?” His reaction was scaring her.
“Because, they’d have to kill me first,” he said.
Whoa. She hadn’t expected that answer.
Sara looked at the large Dagonian, his black hair still wet, curling around his chiseled face, and his broad shoulders framing a formidable physique. Why would he be so protective of her? She wasn’t anything special. There must Dagonians that were more appealing. He shouldn’t be giving her the time of day.
“Do I look like other Dagonian women?” she whispered.
“No.” He shook his head.
She knew it. Judging by how gorgeous he was, Dagonian women would have to be beyond stunning. Sara furrowed her eyebrows, disappointed.
He lifted her chin and raised her face to meet his eyes. “You’re much more beautiful.”
Sara’s heart fluttered at his words. She thought a stupid grin might have spread across her face, but she wasn’t sure. She was too preoccupied with being flabbergasted.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Xanthus’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Still, you could pass for a Dagonian if it weren’t for the eyes. A Dagonian’s eyes are only ever dark brown.”
Sara began to consider the possibilities. Did th
ey have white picket fences in the ocean? She couldn’t ask him that, so instead she asked, “Are there colored contacts I could wear underwater?”
“I don’t know. Dagonians don’t have a need for them. There’s another problem. I doubt you know how to speak Atlantian.”
“Oh my gosh. There really is an Atlantis?” Sara leaned forward.
“Yes. It’s a bit run down and outdated.” Xanthus leaned toward Sara and rested his arm on the back of the couch. “But it still has a sizable population. I’m from the much more modern city of Corin.”
“How many Dagonians are out there?” she asked, leaning her head against his arm.
“Total?”
Sara nodded.
“About eight million.” Xanthus stroked her damp hair.
“Do they live in all the oceans?” She leaned closer to absorb his body heat.
“Yes, but most live in the warmer climates of the Atlantic.”
“Wait a minute.” Sara’s head rose. “How did you learn English? Are there a lot of Dagonians here on dry land? And what are you doing here?”
“Slow down, Sara.” Xanthus draped his arm around her and nudged her back against his side. “I was one of a few Dagonians who studied English as part of my job. To protect ourselves from human discovery, we have to know about them, learn how they think, discover their weaknesses and strengths. It was necessary for me to get to know them and to know them I had to speak their language.
“And I’m the only Dagonian on land. Dagonians as a rule stay far away from humans. I have no idea how your father got close enough to a human to father a child, but obviously he did.”
“So what are you here for?” She curled up into his side.
“Triton sent me. And you don’t need to know more than that.”
Sara yawned wide. The evening was catching up to her. Her eyes were feeling heavy. “How in the world could I be tired at a time like this?”
Xanthus chuckled softly. “It’s the after-effects of adrenaline.” He leaned back, propped against the plush arm of the couch, and pulled her down to lie across his chest.
Sara wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek against him. Once again, she heard the beating of his heart. She wanted to ask him what he would do if he found out who her father was, but she didn’t think she wanted to know the answer.
***
Sara’s breathing deepened and her body sagged, limp against Xanthus’s chest. He looked down on this slip of a woman who had effectively woven herself into his heart. Her heart thumped softly against his stomach and her warm breath breezed against his chest.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her head. His heart clenched as he realized how much he loved her.
He would kill for her.
He would even die for her.
At the same time, he was tearing apart at the seams. He was having an identity crisis. He’d lived his entire life ruled by duty and honor, but now, he’d turned his back on those rules—all because of this woman. Truth be told, he began to doubt even before coming here. Even now, the council continued to debate whether to declare all humans who ventured into the sea, free game. That was something he would not be able to accept, regardless of what the council decreed.
Xanthus’s belief system was being ripped apart. He’d lived by the system that said laws and rules must be followed, without question. Now he was plagued with doubt and uncertainty. How could you call someone a criminal when they never voluntarily committed a crime? How could being born be a crime? How could he continue enforcing laws when he questioned the rightness of them? Who was he to pick and choose which laws were enforced and which were not?
But if he hadn’t questioned, if he’d blindly followed, Sara would be dead right now, and that would be the true crime. Of that, he had no doubt. Then there would be no one to provide justice for her.
Why had he hesitated to kill her in the first place? Was it truly because she had a pretty face? If he’d found a burly, half-human man instead of a delicate woman, would he have completed the execution?
Xanthus had to admit he would have. And wouldn’t that have been just as much of a crime as killing Sara would have been?
Yes, it would have been.
So who was the guilty party here?
He was.
Sara sighed. Her face scrunched up as if she were having a bad dream. Xanthus whispered words of comfort to her and stroked her head. Her face relaxed. A small smile tugged at her mouth as she hummed in contentment. Xanthus looked down on her and knew his life would never be the same.
A cool breeze brushed Sara’s body like a caress. The bed surrounded her in a warm embrace. The glow of daylight seeped through her eyelids. They were especially hard to open this morning. There were no pressing deadlines ahead—they could stay closed for a while.
Wait a minute. Her bed was never this soft.
Sara’s eyes flew open.
She lay in the middle of a king-sized bed, centered inside a room with wooden-planked walls and two portal windows. A plush, maroon blanket twisted around the end of her fin and draped off the side of the bed. The robe she wore gapped open. Underneath the robe, her clothes were a wrinkled mess. Sara flicked her tail and the blanket slipped off and fell to the floor.
Sara looked around. Memories from the previous night flooded back into her mind and the surrealism of the situation overwhelmed her. She was in Xanthus’s houseboat. He was a Dagonian and she was half-Dagonian. And fairy tales were true—well, at least mythological ones were.
Sara spotted her wheelchair sitting beside the bed. Her pink sundress and her spandex wrap lay neatly folded on the bedside table. Xanthus must have retrieved them last night. They reminded her of how much her life had changed in one night.
Where should she go from here? Should she go about her life as if nothing had changed? Where would Xanthus go? How long was he going to stay on dry land? He mentioned something about returning in a year.
Sara remembered the thoughts she had had of a white picket fence. In the daylight, they seemed silly. This wasn’t a fairy tale story. Xanthus wasn’t going to carry her off into the crashing waves where they would swim home to his oceanic castle and live happily ever after.
If she did go home with him, she’d probably get herself executed just for existing. And if any human saw her for what she was, they would be in danger too. Her mom could be in danger, maybe even Gretchen. So here she was, knowing she didn’t belong with Xanthus and knowing she didn’t belong with humans. Where did she belong?
One thing was certain. She didn’t belong in his bed (at least not until they were married). Okay, that was a slip. Sara couldn’t possibly marry Xanthus. She didn’t belong in his world and she was sure the only reason he’d been paying her so much attention was because she was the only female Dagonian (or half-Dagonian) he’d seen in she didn’t know how long. And she was apparently fertile right now, which she guessed caused her to be somewhat appealing to him. She was sure he wouldn’t find her attractive any other way.
Now that her head was screwed on straight, maybe she could pull herself out of bed. Reaching over to her wheelchair and using her tail as leverage, she raised herself off the bed and sat down into the seat. She grabbed her clothes, placed them on her lap, and wheeled into the bathroom.
An old-fashioned, claw-foot tub greeted her as she rolled in. A massive spout hung over the tub like a giant, sleepy sunflower. Showering here would be like lying in a downpour. Xanthus must not recognize the advantages of using a sprayer hose to wash. Well, it was an advantage to her. She didn’t remember the last time she’d had a bath, but it couldn’t be too complicated.
She filled the tub with cool water. Looking down at the rippling water, she smiled when she felt no anxiety. She stripped out of her clothes and locked the brakes on her chair. Putting her weight down on her fin, she lifted herself over to the side of the tub. After lowering her hips into the water, her fin slipped under the surface. When the tub was full, she turned off the spou
t.
As she laid there with cool water lapping up the side of her neck, she realized the enormity of the situation. She was sitting here, submerged in water, and she wasn’t freaking out. Would miracles never cease?
Sara didn’t even need Gretchen’s psychologist, Dr. What’s-his-name. All she needed was to face her fear. Of course, it helped having a muscle-bound Dagonian force her to do it, but she guessed it was worth it. She closed her eyes and tested herself further by lowering her head under the water. There was a slight flutter in her chest. She couldn’t tell whether it was fear or excitement. That was a good thing.
One more test. She took in a lungful of water. The burn was excruciating. Sara began thrashing the moment she realized her mistake, and it wasn’t just any mistake. It was a huge mistake. How was she to know that breathing tap water was not like breathing ocean water?
Sara tried to scream but her throat closed off. She flailed her body around in the tub, trying to get a hold of the side. She had to get some air.
Finally, she grasped the side of the tub, pulled herself out of the water, and heaved herself over the side, spilling her body and gallons of water onto the floor.
Through a panic-filled haze, she heard Xanthus pounding on the door. “Sara, what’s going on?”
She was desperate for help. Please, let him come in. Lying on her back, she clawed at her chest.
More pounding.
“Sara, if you don’t answer, I’m breaking down the door.”
Sara realized with a shock that she was completely naked. She made a swipe at the nearby towel on the rack and pulled it down to cover herself. Most likely, the towel would be her death shroud.
With a loud crash, Xanthus burst through the door. In an instant, his steel fingers were like vices around her shoulders as he shook her hard. “Sara, breathe.” His shouts rang her ears.
She tried to obey, but she couldn’t get her throat to loosen. Her eyes were wide and fixed on his face, her fingers scratching and clawing at her throat. Her mouth gaped open, struggling to suck in a breath of air. Xanthus leaned in as if to kiss her. Instead, he pinched her nose, covered her mouth with his, and breathed out hard.
