Of Poseidon

by Anna Banks

  “Ohmysweetgoodness!” I yell, standing up. I kick as much sand on him as I can. “That’s none of her business! And none of yours! She had no right to—”

  “You just said you wanted her to dig deep,” he says, standing, too. “I thought you’d be pleased that we already did that.”

  “You invaded my privacy!” I say as I step into my flip-flops and stomp toward the hotel. Heat wraps around my wrist as he jerks me back.

  “Emma, calm down. I had to know—”

  I point my finger in his face, almost touching his eyeball. “It’s one thing for me to give you permission to look into it. But I’m pretty sure looking into it without my consent is illegal. In fact, I’m pretty sure everything that woman does is illegal. Do you even know what the Mafia is, Galen?”

  His eyebrows lift in surprise. “She told you who she is? I mean, who she used to be?”

  I nod. “While you were checking in with Grom. Once in the Mob, always in the Mob, if you ask me. How else would she get all her money? But I guess you wouldn’t care about that, since she buys you houses and cars and fake IDs.” I snatch my wrist away and turn back toward our hotel. At least, I hope it’s our hotel.

  Galen laughs. “Emma, it’s not Rachel’s money; it’s mine.”

  I whirl on him. “You are a fish. You don’t have a job. And I don’t think Syrena currency has any of our presidents on it.” Now “our” means I’m human again. I wish I could make up my mind.

  He crosses his arms. “I earn it another way. Walk to the Gulfarium with me, and I’ll tell you how.”

  The temptation divides me like a cleaver. I’m one part hissy fit and one part swoon. I have a right to be mad, to press charges, to cut Rachel’s hair while she’s sleeping. But do I really want to risk the chance that she keeps a gun under her pillow? Do I want to miss the opportunity to scrunch my toes in the sand and listen to Galen’s rich voice tell me how a fish came to be wealthy? Nope, I don’t.

  Taking care to ram my shoulder into him, I march past him and hopefully in the right direction. When he catches up to me, his grin threatens the rest of my hissy fit side, so I turn away, fixing my glare on the waves.

  “I sell stuff to humans,” he says.

  I glance at him. He’s looking at me, his expression every bit as expectant as I feel. I hate this little game of ours. Maybe because I’m no good at it. He won’t tell me more unless I ask. Curiosity is one of my most incurable flaws—and Galen knows it.

  Still, I already gave up a perfectly good tantrum for him, so I feel like he owes me. Never mind that he saved my life today. That was so two hours ago. I lift my chin.

  “Rachel says I’m a millionaire,” he says, his little knowing smirk scrubbing my nerves like a Brillo pad. “But for me, it’s not about the money. Like you, I have a soft spot for history.”

  Crap, crap, crap. How can he already know me this well? I must be as readable as the alphabet. What’s the use? He’s going to win, every time. “What stuff ? What history?”

  There he goes again, wielding his smile as a thought-preventative. “I recover things lost at sea and sell them to humans,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “When it’s too big to handle myself, like old war submarines or planes, I give the human governments the location—for a price. Rachel handles the legal stuff, of course.”

  I blink at him. “Really?”

  He shrugs, uneasy, as if my full attention suddenly makes him nervous. “I have some private buyers, too. We give them first pick, since they tend to pay more than most nations.”

  “What about shipwrecks? Pirate treasure?” The possibilities are endless—or at least, only restricted by the boundaries of the Triton territory, which spans from the Gulf of Mexico to dead-center Indian Ocean.

  He nods. “Plenty. My biggest was an entire Spanish fleet carrying gold.”

  I gasp. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It occurs to me that I might be the only other person he’s told, besides Rachel. “How much gold? Did they question how you found it? Where was it?” My questions bubble up like a shaken soda.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose, then laughs. “Rachel has everything saved on the computer, including pictures. You can go through it all you want when we get home.”

  I clap like a trained seal. I also ignore the flutter in my stomach at hearing him say, “When we get home.” As if home could be on dry land.

  18

  THE SECURITY guard lets them into the Gulfarium and ushers them inside The Living Sea exhibit to wait for Dr. Milligan. In awe, Emma shuffles to the floor-to-ceiling tank and taps on the glass. Galen stands back, leans against the wall. He watches her coo at the tropical fish grappling for her attention. A sea turtle lazily treads over to investigate.

  She paces back and forth in front of the glass, tracing her hand along the surface. The tank transforms into one giant multispecies school of fish. Stingrays, sea turtles, eels. More kinds of fish than Rachel puts in her seafood-surprise casserole. Even a small shark joins the parade.

  “She’s amazing.”

  Galen turns to Dr. Milligan, who’s standing beside him and staring at Emma as if she were floating in midair. “Yes, she is,” Galen says.

  Dr. Milligan looks at Galen, a knowing smile plastered on his face. “Looks like she’s enchanted more than just the little fish. In fact, looks like you’re worse off than any of them, my boy.”

  Galen shrugs. He’s got nothing to hide from Dr. Milligan.

  Dr. Milligan lets out his breath in a whistle. “What does Rayna say?”

  “She likes her.” The good doctor raises a thin gray brow. Galen sighs. “She likes her enough.”

  “Well, can’t ask for more than that, I suppose. Shall we, then?”

  Galen nods. “Emma. Dr. Milligan is here.”

  Emma turns. And freezes. “You!” she chokes out. “You’re Dr. Milligan?”

  The older man bows his head. “Yes, young lady, I am. You remember me, then.”

  She nods, walking slowly toward them as if she smells a trap. “You tried to give me free season passes. You talked to me at the petting tank.”

  “Yes,” he says. “Of course I offered you season passes. How else could I study your fascinating interaction with the specimens?”

  She crosses her arms. “I didn’t know I could talk to fish at the time. How did you?”

  “At first I didn’t,” he says, closing the distance between them and gently taking her hand. “But when I saw your eye color, I knew you had to be Syrena. I remembered Galen telling me about that gift, but I never really believed it. Which is silly, I suppose. I mean, if I believe in mermaids—ahem, excuse me Galen, Syrena—then why not a gift like that?”

  “And what do you think now, Dr. Milligan?” Galen says, a little perturbed at the revelation that his friend thought he lied. Also, “mermaids” was uncalled for.

  Dr. Milligan chuckles softly, rubbing Emma’s hand. “I think I stand corrected, as usual. Emma, how about a private tour?”

  She nods, excitement dancing in her eyes.

  They follow Dr. Milligan into the hallway and to a set of stairs. He shepherds them to each exhibit, spouting off facts and statistics about each animal. Every one of the creatures remembers Emma. The sea lions bob their heads and make a noise only Emma could find charming. The otters do the same. Even the alligators respond to her commands, rotating in a circle like synchronized swimmers.

  The doctor leads Galen and Emma into an exhibit called Dune Lagoon. He explains it’s a sanctuary for injured birds cared for at the Gulfarium. Emma walks around, talking and murmuring to the winged creatures. None of them care. In fact, they seem more excited to see Dr. Milligan. A duck walks right past Emma and quacks at Dr. Milligan’s feet. “Fascinating,” he says.

  Emma laughs. “There’s nothing fascinating about getting rejected.”

  Dr. Milligan smiles and pulls some brown pellets from his pocket, scattering them on the floor for the impatient duck. “This fellow just know
s about my treats. Listen, how about we visit the penguins?”

  “Aren’t penguins birds?” she says. “I mean, I know they can’t fly or anything, but they’re still birds. They wouldn’t respond to my Gift, would they?”

  Dr. Milligan nods. “Aquatic birds. And there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

  The penguins love Emma. They waddle around, dive in and out of their pool, call out to her. She laughs. “They sound like donkeys!”

  “Maybe you can talk to donkeys, too,” Dr. Milligan smiles.

  Emma nods. “I can. Sometimes Galen can be a jackass.”

  “That hurts my feelings, Emma,” Galen says, trying to look hurt. She throws him a saucy grin.

  Dr. Milligan laughs and leads them back into the hallway. The square windows punctuating the interior wall reveal three dolphins keeping pace with them. They shriek at Emma, eager to meet her acquaintance. Next to a sign that says DOLPHIN SHOW, Dr. Milligan points up a set of stairs. “Shall we?”

  The top level is an open deck. Galen’s seen the show before. The wooden bleachers facing the tank aren’t quite far enough away that the front row won’t get wet. Which delights the nose-picking miniature humans, especially in the heat of summer. Galen’s glad they came after closing.

  Emma walks to the edge of the tank and peers down. She tickles the water with her fingers. Three gray heads poke up and shrill their enthusiasm. Giggling, Emma leans over, cupping her hand over her mouth. The animals draw closer, as if to hear a secret.

  The heads disappear. When they emerge again, there’s a toy in each mouth. They bring their treasures to Emma. A black ring the size of a hula hoop and two soccer balls. She hands the balls to Galen, then accepts the ring from the smallest dolphin. “Throw the balls in the middle, Galen. Let’s see if they’re good at basketball.”

  Chuckling, Galen complies. Emma holds the ring over the edge of the pool. The dolphins shriek in anticipation. “Shhh,” she tells them. They quiet down, hold still. “Try to put the ball through the hoop.”

  Two of the heads disappear. The third one stays behind and squeals at Emma. She quiets him down again, just as one of the balls pops off the surface of the water and through the hoop she’s holding. Then the second one pops up, but this one misses the mark, grazing Emma’s hair instead. “I almost got a black eye out of the deal!” But she laughs and rewards the animals with a nose rub.

  “It’s your turn,” she tells the smallest dolphin. Retrieving both soccer balls from the bleachers, she tosses them back in the center of the pool. “Go on,” she says, making a shooing motion with her hand. The animal stays put, it’s mouth slightly ajar as if smiling.

  She turns to Dr. Milligan. “Looks like he doesn’t understand,” she says.

  He snorts. “Oh, he understands, all right. He just doesn’t listen.”

  This doesn’t seem to sit well with Emma. She splashes water at him. “Go on! What’s the matter? You too chicken-of-the-sea to play?”

  Still, he stays, thrashing his head around like he’s arguing. His squeals sound contrary even to Galen’s untrained ears. The poor creature doesn’t realize how close to foot tapping Emma is, but Galen recognizes that stiff stance of impatience. It’s the same one she directed at him when they first met on this very beach. The same one she directed at Toraf when she informed him that Rayna could live with her. The same one she directed at Rachel when she booked the honeymoon suite for the two of them.

  Just as Galen decides to intervene, the tension leaves Emma’s shoulders. “Oh,” she says softly. She steps out of her flip-flops and hoists herself onto the cool blue edge of the concrete tank.

  “Emma,” Galen warns, though unsure of what exactly he’s warning against. He and Dr. Milligan exchange a look.

  “I’m fine, Galen,” she says without looking back. She dangles her legs in the water, kicking in a slow, soothing rhythm. The two biggest dolphins come to her immediately, nudging her feet and creating choppy waves around her. But it’s the smallest dolphin who hoards her attention from across the tank by doing nothing at all. Hesitant, he inches toward her. When she reaches out to him, he submerges and shoots to the other side of the tank. Turning back to Galen and Dr. Milligan, Emma says, “He doesn’t trust us. Humans, I mean.”

  “Hmm,” Dr. Milligan says. “What makes you say that?”

  “His behavior.” Emma tilts her head. “See how he keeps his nose below the water? The other two poke their entire heads out. But he doesn’t, as if he’s thinking about jetting or something. And his eyes. They’re not as perky as the others. They look dull, out of focus. Not disinterest, not exactly.” She thumps water toward him, flicking droplets onto his nose. He doesn’t flinch. “No, he’s definitely curious about me. He’s just … well, he’s sad, I think.”

  “Do you know, I think you’re right,” Dr. Milligan says, his expression somewhere between admiration and disbelief. “I’m not sure if you remember, but he wasn’t here this summer when you visited. He was beached on shore over in Panama City a few weeks ago. He’s the only one not born in captivity. We named him Lucky. I guess he would disagree.”

  Emma nods. “He doesn’t like it here. Why was he beached?” By now Lucky has eased himself to within reach of Emma. She extends a hand to him, not to pet him, but in invitation for him to touch her first. After a few indecisive seconds, he nestles his nose into her palm.

  “We don’t know. He wasn’t sick or injured, and he’s relatively young. How he got separated from his pod, we don’t know.”

  “I think humans had something to do with him getting beached,” she says. Galen is surprised by the bitterness in her tone. “Will he ever get to go home?” Emma asks, not looking up. The way she caresses Lucky’s head reminds Galen of how his mother used to comb her fingers through Rayna’s hair trying to get her to sleep. The simple touch was a lullaby in itself. It looks like Lucky thinks so, too.

  “Usually not, my dear. But I’ll see what I can do,” Dr. Milligan says.

  Emma gives him a rueful smile. “That would be good.”

  Galen stops short of shaking his head. If Dr. Milligan feels as rewarded by her smile as Galen does, then Lucky will be free in no time.

  After a few more minutes, Dr. Milligan says, “My dear, I hate to draw you away, but perhaps we could make our way to the examination room.”

  * * *

  “Well, she’s definitely got the thick skin, doesn’t she?” Dr. Milligan says, inspecting the second needle he’s bent trying to penetrate her vein. “I guess I should break out the big guns.” He tosses the needle in the trash to dig around the top drawer of a stainless steel cabinet. “Ah-ha. This should be sufficient.”

  Emma’s eyes go as round as sand dollars. Her legs press into the metal tabletop she’s sitting on. “That’s not a needle, that’s a straw!”

  Galen stifles the reflex to take her hand in his. “He uses it on me, too. It doesn’t hurt, just pinches a little.”

  She turns huge violet eyes to him. “You let him take your blood? Why?”

  He shrugs. “It’s kind of an exchange. I give him samples to study, and he keeps me informed of what his colleagues are up to.”

  “What do you mean, ‘his colleagues’?”

  Galen hoists himself on the counter across from her. “Dr. Milligan happens to be a well-known marine biologist. He keeps track of news that could affect our kind. You know, new exploration devices, treasure hunters, stuff like that.”

  “To protect you? Or to make sure you get to the treasure first?”

  Galen grins. “Both.”

  “Has anyone else ever seen—OUCH!” She whips her scrutiny from Galen to her arm, where Dr. Milligan is drawing blood and smiling apologetically while doing it. Emma returns her glare to Galen. “Pinch, huh?”

  “It was for the greater good, angelfish. The worst part is over. You still want his help, right?” Galen’s reasonable tone wins him no love.

  “Don’t you ‘angelfish’ me. I agreed to have these tests d
one, so I’m not going to punk out! OUCH!”

  “Sorry, just one more tube,” Dr. Milligan whispers.

  Emma nods.

  When Dr. Milligan finishes, he hands her a cotton ball to press against the hole already scabbing over. “Galen’s blood clots fast, too. You probably don’t even need to hold it.” He puts the half dozen tubes of blood into the shaking machine and flips the switch. Retrieving a small white box from a shelf, he says, “Emma, do you mind if I take your blood pressure?”

  She shakes her head, but says, “Why do you have a human blood pressure machine in an animal hospital?”

  He chuckles. “Because my doctor says I need to keep an eye on mine.” Dr. Milligan taps Emma’s knee. “Okay, now uncross your legs so I can get a good reading.” She does, then holds out her arm. Dr. Milligan shakes his head. “No, my dear, I always get the best reading on your calf. I’ve found that the main artery of the fin divides in two when Galen changes into human form, one in each leg.”

  Again, Emma’s eyes go wide. “You said it doesn’t hurt to change, just like you said it wouldn’t hurt when he stabbed me with that straw,” she says, glowering at Galen. “I’ll just bet it doesn’t hurt,” she grumbles. “Arteries splitting in half.”

  As Galen opens his mouth to answer, Dr. Milligan says, “Huh. That’s strange.”

  “What?” they ask in unison. Emma bites her lip. Galen crosses him arms. Neither of them like the sound of “Huh.”

  The blood pressure cuff releases, and Dr. Milligan stands up. “Your heartbeat isn’t quite as slow as Galen’s. And your blood pressure isn’t as low. Galen, why don’t you hop up on the table and let me check yours again?”

  Without effort he plunks off the counter and onto the table. As the doctor trades the small cuff for a larger one to accommodate his more muscular calf, Emma leans into Galen. “What does that mean?” she whispers.