Shearwater: Ocean Depths Book One (FULL)

by D. S. Murphy

  “Okay, that’s weird,” Jackie said. I could tell she didn’t quite believe me.

  “Even so, think about what you’re saying,” Patricia said. “It’s fine for people to treat you like shit because you’re prettier? Or assume you’re a slut because boys want to have sex with you? That’s ridiculous.”

  She was right, but at the same time, Patricia had years of experience being hot and dealing with haters. My situation was different; it happened overnight. Of course people were going to assume I’d done it to myself for some reason.

  “Can we just forget about it and enjoy the game,” I asked. “Please?” Jackie gave me a hug, and Patricia pulled a flask from her back pocket. She’d changed into a pair of ass-hugging jeans for the game.

  “This will help,” she said with a smirk, taking a deep swig. “Kyle gave it to me, we need to get our pre-game on.” I took the silver container from her; the liquid burned my throat on the way down and I coughed.

  “We definitely need to work on that,” Jackie said, patting me on the back. “If you’re going to fit in here, you’ve got to be able to drink whiskey with a straight face.”

  Other students joined us on the way to the field behind the school. Jackie introduced me to Conner, Tristan, Brian, Declan, Megan, Kiara… and more I couldn’t remember. The mood had shifted. During the day things had been somber, but now everybody just seemed excited about the match. Sebastian showed up at my side, silently. One minute I was looking for him, the next minute he was in step with me like he’d always been there.

  He and Jackie started talking, and it bothered me more than I wanted to admit. He was charming, as always, and teased her without being openly flirty. Why isn’t he talking to me? I took another swig of whiskey. Patricia and Kyle were making fun of American football, running around the field and tackling each other. He lifted her up off her feet and she pushed him away, then they fell on the grass, laughing. They were so happy together, I felt a stab of bitterness. I’d give anything to be that close with someone. But the whiskey was warming me up, and the mood of the crowd was contagious.

  Rows of wooden bleachers stood along the side of the field. After we found our seats, Derry started explaining the rules of the game to me. It looked like a soccer field, with nets at both ends for goals. Sebastian disappeared for a few minutes, and came back with snacks for everyone. He handed me a drink, then, when he thought nobody was looking, I saw him sniff the popcorn. Why does he do that?

  “Players use a stick, the one that looks like a pizza paddle, called a ‘hurley’ to pass around the ball, which is called the ‘sliotar.’ They can either get it into net, past the goalie for a three point goal, or over the net between the tall posts for one point.”

  “Just tell me which direction we’re going so I know when to cheer.” I grinned.

  “That way,” he said, pointing to the left.

  I tried following the game when it started, but it was chaos. Players could hit the sliotar with their sticks; balance it on the end of the stick and run with it; pass or hit it with the palm of their hands; even kick it down the field.

  “It’s so fast! It reminds me of Quidditch,” I said to Jackie. She rolled her eyes at me. At least I could tell where the ball was, and we stood up and cheered whenever Ballymoney High School scored.

  It was a close match, but just before the timer ran out, a burly player sent a wide pass forward. Brody swung his hurley, swatting the sliotar straight past the goalie. The timer ran out, and we won, 14 to 12. The crowd erupted in cheers, and our group all celebrated together. I even hugged some kids I didn’t know. Out on the field, Brody’s teammates lifted him up on their shoulders. While he was being carried off field, he pointed his hurley straight at me and smiled.

  I stopped clapping, my cheeks flushing red. Jackie nudged my shoulder and I heard Patricia giggle. I looked up at Sebastian, part of me hoping he’d be jealous, but he was chatting with a blonde girl I didn’t know. Just then, however, he looked over my shoulder and his eyes widened. I whirled around as a hand shot out and slapped the cup I was drinking, spilling Coke all over the front of my white shirt and neck. I shuddered as the cold, sticky liquid ran down my skin and dripped on the ground.

  “Oops. Sorry,” said Roisin, standing in front of me with a smug look, one hand on her hip. Then she took off down the steps, laughing. My skin tingled everywhere the Coke had splashed. Time seemed to slow down, and I was acutely aware of the cold liquid on my neck and chest, as the Coke soaked through my shirt. I felt each drip form; it was like I could sense gravity pulling the liquid down towards the ground. I felt each solitary drop splatter against the dusty cement of the bleachers, and the tiny wet molecules swirling in the air from the impact. Suddenly I could feel all the other drinks around me; their consistency and texture, their heaviness. It was like my awareness had widened somehow. The lights and colors around me seemed much stronger and brighter than before, like the world was suddenly brought into focus.

  Roisin was down on the field talking to Brody. Next to her was a large water cooler full of Gatorade. A few players lifted it up, getting ready to pour it over their coach, and I could feel the liquid splashing around in the container, the momentum building as the boys tilted it forward.

  My eyes narrowed and I clenched my fists together. My attention seized on the Gatorade and I reached out towards it with my fingertips, thwarting the forward momentum and shifting it, guiding it, aiming it. It splashed over Roisin with a resounding slap we heard from the bleachers, drenching her from head to toe.

  She stood in shock, her mouth hanging open. Her clothes were now a sticky orange color. The boys were laughing and patting each other on the back. They all thought it was an accident. It must have been an accident.

  “Come with me,” Sebastian grabbed my wrist and whispered harshly. “NOW.”

  His voice was so firm and serious, I didn’t question it—I was still in a daze by what just happened. He dragged me over to the snack booth and pushed me behind it so we were hidden.

  “Stay here,” he commanded.

  A minute later he was back with a stack of napkins.

  He blotted them against my neck, shoulders, and chest. He paused, and I saw him smirk as his fingers drifted lower, which suddenly restored my modesty.

  I grabbed the napkins and pushed him back.

  “Make sure you get it all. You can’t let any moisture stay on your skin.”

  “Did you see that?” I asked.

  “Yeah, pretty funny.”

  I bit the inside of my lip.

  Did he mean, it was funny that Roisin got hit with the Gatorade, or funny that I’d done it?

  But how could I have done it? People can’t do things like that. I finished drying myself off and tossed the napkins into the trash.

  “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you made it clear you weren’t interested in me. Though you and that girl you were talking to seem to have hit it off.”

  “I have zero interest in her or any other girl, anywhere on earth,” he said. “As for you...I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s forbidden, right? What does that even mean? I’ve kind of had it with your cryptic bullshit,” I said, glaring at him.

  “I just meant, my family, wouldn’t approve” he said lamely.

  “What, they don’t like Americans?” I crossed my arms.

  “They don’t like humans.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  Wait… what?

  There was a long pause, as I tried to think of a witty rebuttal, but I had no idea what he was talking about. “Whatever,” I said, shoving past him. He blocked my path with his arm and pushed me back.

  “Wait,” he said, grabbing my wrists. He pinned me up against the fence as I struggled. “Listen. You need to be careful. You have no idea what you are, or what you’re capable of. It’s not safe.” His face was inches from mine, his green eyes burning with determination. I’d never seen him look this serious. His grip was hurting my
wrists, and I realized for the first time just how powerful he was. Why was he getting angry at me? I hadn’t done anything to him. Not safe… was he trying to protect me? Or was he afraid I’d hurt someone?

  “Why do you care?” I hissed back at him. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know what you are,” he said.

  What I am?

  “Then tell me! Who are you—what are you doing here?”

  He chewed his lip, which made him look infuriatingly sexy. His skin smelled like he’d just been swimming in the ocean; briny and a little spicy. Like seaweed and shrimp cocktail, with a slice of lemon. His body pressed up against mine; one of his knees between my legs, hitching up my already short skirt. My body ached to bend into him, to push my hands under his uniform and run my palms over his bare chest.

  Instead I blurted, “You’re hurting me. Is this what you did to Bedelia?”

  I don’t know what made me say it. I was just angry, and tired of everyone keeping secrets from me. I expected him to yell back at me, or tell me I was being stupid. Instead he released my wrists and sank back like I’d named his worst fear. I was totally unprepared for the look of guilt in his eyes, and for the first time, I was terrified of Sebastian. He may not have killed Bedelia himself, but I was pretty sure he knew who did. And he thought I might be next.

  “Just… try not to get into any trouble. Okay?” He backed away. “And don’t trust anyone.” Then he stormed off and left me there, my back pressed into the fence, breathless with desire and haunted by unanswered questions.

  13

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened with Roisin and the water cooler. Nobody seems to have connected it with me at all—maybe it was an unlucky coincidence. A fluke. But Sebastian’s reaction had to mean something. Why was he so concerned about getting the Coke off my skin? What had he meant by all his dire warnings? I could no longer pretend it was meaningless; something was going on, and Sebastian knew more than he was telling. What it was, I had no idea. But I needed answers, fast.

  I felt like I was unravelling. My sudden change of appearance indicated that whatever happened to my mother was happening to me too. And if I wasn’t careful, soon I might be on the run, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind me. But how could I protect myself if I had no idea where the danger was coming from? Was Sebastian really involved in Bedelia’s death somehow? Was he a threat to me and my friends? Or was I the threat?

  For the next several days, I tried to recreate the connection I’d felt with the Gatorade. I left the tap water running and watched it swirl down the drain. I could still feel the water, like I could then, but not as much. I pointed to it and curled my finger. I waved my hand and beckoned. Nothing. The stream of water ignored me.

  Nothing happened when I showered, either. Apart from my perfect complexion, darker hair and mesmerizing eyes, I felt pretty much the same as before. Is this what my mother went through? Liam said things got strange before she left, and that she went through a similar change in appearance. But other than my looks, there didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about me.

  Or so I thought. A few days later, eating breakfast with Aedan, I noticed something else. I had a deep awareness of his emotional state—the ancient melancholy of a broken heart, the mild anxiety of work projects, his love for me but also the overprotected worry, fear almost, that something bad was going to happen.

  I thought it was just him, or just me, but it stuck with me at school. When talking with people, I could feel their moods. I wasn’t psychic: I couldn’t read their thoughts, just broad emotions. I could almost taste them in my mouth. Salty, sweet or bitter depending on the mood. It was kind of like what I felt when I was singing—an awareness of people’s reactions to my voice. But now I felt it all the time.

  I wasn’t sure who I could talk to without sounding crazy. Even confessing to Jackie and Derry seemed risky; I’d only known them for a few weeks. And what was I going to say, “I think I’m starting to read minds? And have telekinetic powers?” They would think I was in shock from the death of my parents and had created a fantasy world.

  I hadn’t told Sebastian anything about my mother or grandmother, nor the note or the photograph. So why did he think I was in danger? From what? If Sebastian wasn’t going to give me any answers, I’d just need to find some on my own.

  I spent hours trying to find Barbara Dubbs online, but she was a dead-end. I even asked at the post office for a forwarding address. They told me she’d moved abroad years ago. I didn’t have any leads to follow.

  And then, there was Sebastian. I was drawn to him in a way I’d never felt before, and it was eating me up inside. When I bumped into him at school, his eyes felt full of meaning, like he wanted to tell me something. But he kept his lips firmly sealed and his jaw clenched, like he was trying not to talk to me. It was agonizing.

  I tried to distract myself with schoolwork. Geography, with Mrs. Davinia Geraghty, was actually pretty interesting. She wore glasses and had blonde hair, but looked like a little mouse—petite and quick to startle. We were learning the history of the United Kingdom, and the different races and civilizations that had ruled Ireland, and how they’d divided up the territory.

  I also began studying languages in earnest. Olivia Lynch still treated me with disdain, and sometimes outright hostility, but I made sure to keep up with the lessons and turn in homework on time. I couldn’t pronounce half the words in French correctly, and German grammar made my brain hurt. But for some reason Gaelic came more naturally to me.

  And I always had choir to look forward to. Mrs. Tierney doted on me, and it was the only place I really felt like myself. I’d been avoiding my new friends: there was so much I couldn’t tell them, and casual conversations weren’t even remotely interesting. I couldn’t handle being social and pretending that everything was normal.

  I started eating lunch in the library, doing homework or reading, but nothing could take my mind off Sebastian or the strange changes I was experiencing lately. Trying to make some sense out of everything, I took out a notebook and made a list of what I knew so far. I tried to diagnose myself as if I had a disease, by listing the symptoms.

  What’s wrong with me?

  1. I look different since I turned 16. Beautiful. Darker hair...

  2. I feel more. I sense things, people’s moods and emotions...

  3. I may have magical powers over Gatorade...

  4. Sebastian may not be human...

  I almost crossed that last one out, but I couldn’t forget what he’d said after the hurling match: that his family wouldn’t like me because I was human. What did that make them?

  When Derry told us about the Fomori, he’d called them legendary creatures. That didn’t sound human to me. It was a starting point, anyway, and something to occupy my time. I looked up the Fomori on Google and pulled up the Wikipedia page. Like Derry had said, Fomori meant ‘of the sea.’ They were a race of mythological people that came before the first gods, like the Titans.

  Next I used the library computer to find a big book of Irish mythology. It was shelved in the oldest section of the library, where all the books had leather bindings. The book I was looking for had an embossed pattern on the front cover that had nearly been worn flat. The inside was filled with delicate ornamentation. I flipped it to the section on the Fomori and began reading.

  Partholon and his followers were the first to invade Ireland after the flood, but the Fomorians were already there. Then came Nemed and his followers, who also encountered the Fomorians when they arrived. Nemed defeated them in several battles, killing their kings Gann and Sengann, but new Fomorian leaders arose, living in Conand’s Tower on Tory Island.

  So the Fomorians were here first, and then other races came and tried to drive them out. I googled Tory Island. It was off the northwest tip of Ireland, about sixty miles away from Portballintrae. The pictures displayed a rugged landmass with steep pillars of rocks jutting out from the sea.

  After Nemed’s death,
the Fomorians enslaved his people and demanded a heavy tribute: two thirds of their children, grain and cattle. Nemed’s son gathered an army of sixty thousand, rose up against them and destroyed Conand’s Tower, but the Fomorians attacked them with a huge fleet, and there was great slaughter on both sides. Then the sea rose over them and drowned most of the survivors: only thirty of Nemed’s people escaped in a single ship, scattering to other parts of the world.

  I was skimming over the text, but one line jumped out at me:

  The sea rose over them and drowned most of the survivors.

  Seas don’t usually act so serendipitously. It was mythology of course, but I couldn’t help thinking about what happened with the Gatorade. The Fomori came from the sea, and were driven back into the sea when the human clans began to arrive and press for land. It could mean they were a sea-faring tribe, and just got into their boats and sailed somewhere else. But if they were from the sea, maybe they could actually influence it. Enough to rise up and swallow their enemies? A lot of people still believe Moses did something like that. And then there’s the biblical flood; and the disappearance of Atlantis for that matter.

  Atlantis, seriously? I checked myself. I was in dangerous territory if Atlantis was my next lead. I was reading too much into the text. Then again, the only reason I was reading this at all was to try to find answers to the things I’d been experiencing recently—things that a few weeks ago I never would have believed were possible.

  After Nemed’s people fought with the Fomorians and were washed away by the sea, the next group mentioned were the Tuatha Dé Danann. Their original king, Nuadha, was replaced by the half-Fomorian Bres, who forced the Tuatha Dé to work as slaves and pay tribute to the Fomorians. However another half-Fomorian, Lugh, joined with Nuadha and led a revolution. They made Nuadha a mechanical arm of silver, and overthrew Bres and reclaimed their freedom. The Fomorians sent Balor, a great general and Lugh’s own grandfather, to put down the rebellion.