Waterfell

by Amalie Howard

  “You are lucky,” I agree with a frown. “It wouldn’t have pierced his hide anywhere else and he would have killed you in an instant if you had missed. Now that I think about it, what were you thinking?” I’m scolding her, gratitude falling by the wayside at the thought of her life being in danger.

  “That my best friend was about to be crushed by the Loch Ness douche bag? What did you expect me to do? Stand by and cheer him on?”

  I laugh so hard at her deadpan face that I’m snorting water through my nose. I concede defeat and raise my hands in surrender. The girl has a point. I turn back to look at Echlios, who is speaking in low tones to Soren, their clicking barely audible. They’re looking at a DNA sample he just ran an analysis on, and their faces are grim.

  “What are they saying?” Jenna asks me, following my gaze. I hesitate only an instant before answering. As much as I’m grateful to Jenna for her quick-thinking earlier, I can’t put her in any more danger by involving her. So I opt for a milder version of the truth.

  “They’re trying to figure out who he is and why he attacked us,” I say. Truth is, they are more concerned with him being able to conceal himself from me. Water calls to water—I should have sensed him as one of us in a heartbeat. “It’s complicated.”

  Jenna nods as if understanding my sudden reticence. Always perceptive to social dynamics, she pulls me in for a hug. “Maybe I should go. It’s late and my mom thinks I was studying over here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Riss?” She pauses as if she knows it’s unlikely she will see me. “There’s a surf rally and a bonfire if you’re interested. Lo will be there,” she adds under her breath.

  “Sure, I’ll see how I feel,” I say, flushing at the mere mention of Lo’s name. I have a bunch of texts from him and several phone calls that I’ve completely ignored. He has probably gone back to thinking I’m mentally unstable. I make a note to call him once I have a free minute. “And, Jenna, thanks.”

  “Anytime,” she says with a wink. “I’ve got your back, don’t forget that.”

  Jenna hasn’t even gotten a few steps out of the front door before Speio mutters something under his breath. I don’t even have to call him out on it—Echlios gets there before me.

  “She saved your life,” he says.

  “I don’t trust her,” Speio says sullenly.

  “You’ve said that already. I think you’re just mad because she did what you didn’t do,” I say as he turns an ugly shade of puce, but I don’t stop, outrage for my best friend taking over. “And you don’t like that I trusted her with who I am. She was there for me tonight. She was there for both of us. At least appreciate that.” Speio snaps his mouth shut and turns away, slamming out of the living room to grab his skateboard and take off. Ignoring his theatrics, I walk over to Echlios.

  “What did you find from the sample?” I ask him, trying not to let Speio get under my skin. Quick to temper, he’s just as quick to cool off, but the constant mistrust of Jenna is grating on me. Hopefully, he’ll be in a better mood once he comes back.

  “You were half-right,” Echlios says. “The man is Aquarathi...but his DNA is different, like he’s some kind of a crossbreed.” As I stare at him in horror, he continues. “There are elements in there that I don’t recognize, ones that resemble human DNA.”

  “Human?” I say, looking from him to Soren. “But that’s not possible, is it?”

  Echlios clutches his nose between his thumb and forefinger, his forehead furrowed. “Anything is possible. It could be a mutation. Sometimes different species break off into others and evolve differently based on the laws of natural selection. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

  “What are you saying? That Aquarathi were secretly living on land all this time and somehow they mutated?”

  “Or made themselves evolve to be compatible with humans.”

  “But in human form, we are already compatible,” I say. Echlios raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to make the connections. My brows snap together as I consider the possibilities. “You can’t mean genetic compatibility? But that’s—” I struggle to push the word out—impossible—but it sticks in my throat like a barb.

  “Yes,” Echlios asserts gently. “Any offspring will carry traits of their parents and adapt to survive. Like this one.” He nods to the body of the creature on the table. “Which was why he did not have to yield himself to you. He’s a hybrid...not bound to Aquarathi laws.”

  Soren’s eyes are as wide as I know mine are but there’s no disbelief there. She thinks it’s possible, too. I still can’t get my mind around it—everything I have been taught about procreation between our species is now obsolete. “So you’re saying we can bond with humans?”

  “It’s not bonding. It’s sexual reproduction and environmental factors.”

  “But I though we couldn’t make...babies with them.” Oddly, the thought sends a hot spiral curling into the pit of my stomach, one that I have no intention of analyzing.

  “Nerissa,” Soren says calmly, “think back to what you know about biology. The only two things that can change genetic characteristics are DNA mutation and sexual reproduction. Once you incorporate either of these into an environment, like Earth, any species—including ours—can adapt to survive. It’s the basis of natural selection.”

  “But it’s not natural,” I say.

  “Nothing’s unnatural, my darling,” she says. “And Ehmora must have been planning this for years.”

  “She’s a hybrid, too?”

  “No,” Echlios says. “She could probably mutate, but not to this level. My guess is she would have reproduced others. She is over a century old, you know.”

  “So you’re telling me that there are hundreds of Ehmora’s hybrid demon-spawn running around mating with the humans?”

  Echlios shrugs. “I can only speculate about Ehmora.” His voice grows quiet. “But it has always been possible. That is why procreating with humans was forbidden. Over the course of history, our people weren’t always careful. Things happened, but it resolved naturally with the mothers. The offspring, more often than not, were unable to survive gestation.”

  “So there has never been a hybrid before this one?”

  “Not that I can recall, my lady.” He pauses, looking to Soren for guidance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her nod. “But there were always rumors of ones that had survived because of some recessive gene mutation. It could never be proven so the rumors were never confirmed and they became urban legends—stories to scare Aquarathi children.”

  A hazy memory comes to mind of Speio telling me a tale when we were little about the monstrous creatures that stole children away from their parents if they ventured too close to the surface in Aquarathi form.

  “So the stories are kind of true.” I glance at the brutish body of the hybrid and suppress a shiver. In human form, he is ugly and misshapen. “How many of them do you think there are?”

  “Not many,” Echlios guesses. “Thousands would have died before one was able to survive. And even then, that one surviving child would have had to mutate further to increase genetic compatibility. It would have taken generations just to get to that.” He jerks his head in the direction of the body. “And I checked, it has no gills.”

  “So it can’t breathe underwater,” I say.

  “Right, and we don’t even know that it can fully transform into our natural shape. You only saw a half form, correct?”

  I nod and then frown. “I still don’t get it. Why even go there? What’s the point?”

  “Think back to what Ehmora wants,” Soren suggests. “She wants dominion of land and water. With a hybrid species that can make the best of both worlds, she can have that.”

  My jaw drops open. “So basically, you guys are saying that Ehmora is a huge ho-bag who has been procreating with humans for generations to build herself a secret hybrid
army of Aquamen because she wants to take over the world?”

  Soren smiles slightly at my tone. “Something like that, although not quite an army.” I notice she doesn’t say anything about Ehmora not being a giant ho-bag and I stifle a grin of my own. She’s so proper most of the time that it’s an anomaly to not have her correct me for my offensive word choices.

  “That’s kind of sick. And calculating. How long do you think she’s been planning this cross-species experiment of hers?”

  “A long time,” Echlios murmurs.

  If I had to guess Ehmora’s age, I’d say she was a hundred and twenty, and still in her prime—some Aquarathi have lived close to two centuries—so about a century of scheming, give or take a few years. I hide my fear with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “So just to sum up, these hybrids don’t have to show fealty to me, they have some of our powers but not all, they may or may not have gills and they are butt ugly.”

  “Language, Nerissa,” Soren says. And she’s back.

  “Sorry. You know what I mean,” I mutter, watching Echlios, who has gone back to prodding the hybrid. “So what do we do now? Is there, like, any silver lining in the dead thing lying in my living room? Any ID on him? Anything?”

  “There may be,” Echlios says, holding a piece of something in his fingers that looks nothing like a driver’s license. “Can you smell that?”

  I shake my head. If I breathe in any more dead monster, I’ll be hurling chunks all over the floor. The only thing I can smell is charred meat, and it’s not the good kind. I try not to focus on whatever he’s holding. But Soren is suddenly on her feet and walking over to him.

  “I smell it,” she says, sniffing cautiously. “It’s a scent.”

  “So he smells? What does that even mean?” I say grouchily, clutching my stomach.

  Echlios shoots me a glare that doesn’t hold back what he thinks of my deductive abilities. “It means we can track him, maybe to others.” I perk up then, all thoughts of bile fading into the background.

  “To where they’re holding my mother?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m coming,” I say, anticipating an argument. Echlios’s mouth thins to a white line and he crosses his arms.

  “No. You are not.” He glares at me. “This isn’t a game, Nerissa. These creatures are not like anything we know, especially if there are more of them. We need to plan carefully and for any attack. I need to call in some of our people.”

  “So you’re not tracking the scent now?”

  An exasperated sigh. “Yes, but not to attack. To scout. And you are not coming.”

  “I want to go.” There’s no way I’m going to let my mother slip through my fingers now that we have our first very real lead. I glare back just as fiercely at Echlios, wary of using my Do As I Say trump card...again.

  “I don’t care if you force me to obey you,” Echlios says, foreseeing my next move easily. “I will resist with every cell of water in my body. Your father’s edict was to protect you and I cannot disobey my king. His orders overrule yours, my princess. So you are not going. Speio!” Echlios shouts to his son, hefting the dead body into a large black bag. I try not to notice as my simmering outrage overflows.

  “Wait, what? Why does Speio get to go?”

  “Because I need his help to dispose of this,” Echlios says matter-of-factly, gesturing at the body. “And it’s not exactly a job for a princess, is it?”

  “I’m not afraid of a dead body.”

  Speio walks back in with a cynical smile cornering his lips and I want to punch it off his face. He’s been listening all along from outside—I should have guessed or at least sensed his glimmer but I’d been too preoccupied. The mocking smile was payback for what I’d said about Jenna. He wouldn’t even back me up on this one.

  “I’m going because I’m me,” he says, “and you are a royal pain in the a—”

  “Speio!” Soren cuts him off. But we both know what he was going to say, and even with Soren’s reprimand, I feel myself flushing red. My emotions are still on a precarious thread.

  “Don’t speak to me like that!” I screech.

  Speio stares at me coolly, aware that he has the upper hand just because of how badly I don’t want to be left out. He glances at Soren, who is still giving him the eye, but he shrugs, ignoring her obvious warning. “Or what? You’re going to glimmer me into submission, too?”

  “Enough!” Echlios roars, staring at the two of us in bewilderment. “What is with you two lately? Always bickering and fighting, and carrying on like two hostile strangers! We are on the precipice of a war that could destroy both land and water, and you two are fighting over trifles?”

  “It’s my mother,” I shoot back.

  “And my queen,” he says, implacable. “Speio goes, Nerissa stays. End of discussion.”

  “Soren?” I try one last-ditch effort to appeal to Soren’s maternal instinct. Totally wrong choice. Her expression is unbending and her words even more so.

  “No, I agree with Echlios. Far too dangerous for you. And Speio is trained.”

  I snort out loud. Even with all Speio’s training, I bet I could still take him. But Soren’s eyes flare green fire, daring me to argue, so I hold my tongue. I back down, not just because I respect Soren but because I know that picking a fight with her will only end badly. She’s also trained in Aquarathi battle arts—testing my mettle against her in anger is a bad bet in my current state.

  “It’s for your own protection, my lady,” she adds more gently.

  “Fine,” I snap, and stalk off to my room, pacing back and forth and straining to hear the remaining conversation. But they know me too well. Peering through a crack in my bedroom door, I confirm that the living room is silent and empty. They’ve already gone out to the front and taken the body with them. Despite my earlier restraint with Soren, there’s no way I’m going to sit in this room while Speio takes my place on the hunt.

  My body bends outward into a glimmer. If I get too close, they will be able to sense me, so I hover near some bushes in the front yard and blend in to the drops of dew glistening on the leaves.

  “Keep an eye on her,” Echlios is saying to Soren. “You know how she is, willful to a fault. Speio, give me a hand here, and seriously, why are you pushing Nerissa’s buttons?”

  “I’m not, she’s just so difficult lately,” Speio says with a grunt as he hefts one end of the bag into the back of his truck.

  So difficult? I’m not the one with the bipolar mood swings. He’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass personified. Everything starts to waver as I almost lose hold of the glimmer. Calm down, I tell myself. Figuring out where they’re going is more important than griping about how much of a girl Speio really is.

  “How long?” Soren is asking Echlios.

  “Not long. We don’t have much time before they discover him missing or, worse, go looking for him. If we don’t move quickly, someone will track his scent here, and we can’t have that happen. You know what to do.”

  They embrace and I snap myself back just as Soren enters the house. There’s nothing I can do—she’ll know the instant I leave. I throw myself onto my bed and pick up a discarded magazine that I stare at mindlessly. There are some bustling sounds before there’s a soft knock on the door. I deliberate whether to answer and then decide to take the high road. Getting mad at Soren won’t help anything.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Fine.”

  “It’s really for your own safety,” she says, coming in to sit on the edge of my bed. She rests a hand on my foot. “At least until we know what we’re working against. I know how upset you are. Trust me, I know. But you can’t help anyone by running in there unprepared and at a disadvantage. If your mother is Ehmora’s only bargaining chip, she will be heavily guarded. You can’t put yourself at risk.”


  “I know.” I sit up, unable to look her in the eye. “I’m going for a swim.”

  Soren’s grip on my ankle tightens. “Nerissa, just in the pool.”

  I pull my leg away. “Of course.”

  Sinking into the watery confines of the pool, I let the water and the salt drain into me and then I shift into Aquarathi form. I glance toward the house. Soren is still cleaning up inside but I can tell that a part of her is focused on me like a dog on its bone.

  Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, focusing the bulk of my power to follow Echlios and Speio. In minutes, I find them. They’re on their way back from a secluded cove on a rocky beach, where I assume that they disposed of the body. They won’t return to the house—Echlios won’t let the trail disappear, not when it’s so fresh. I’m already breathing hard by the time they get onto the highway, heading north, and my glimmer lessens the farther away they get. Even with my considerable strength, I lose them right before Solana Beach, my senses thinning like stretched neoprene on the verge of tearing.

  The glimmer snaps back into me and I float in silence for a while, staring at the starlit sky. It’s so quiet, almost as if the world has gone entirely still. There’s not even a breath of wind in the air and the complete lack of sound throws me. I submerge, feeling the saltwater pass over my gills like a balm, as something strange unfolds like heavy wings in the middle of my stomach. Maybe I pushed myself too far with the glimmer.

  But still, the blooming feeling stretches outward, tingling along my veins like a tiny electrical current, a hot awareness spreading like wildfire through me. And then the pain hits me in a wild roaring rush, clipping through my body with the force of a hurricane. I thrash backward in the suddenly tiny pool, my entire length lit up like a fireworks display. Every part of my exposed skin feels like it’s covered in fire and then ice, the burnished scales along my hide flexing and vibrating with hot, pulsing light.

  Soren bursts through the doors, her hand against my throbbing side. “Breathe, my darling. Breathe. Just let it happen.”

  “Just let what happen?” I gasp.