Pearl didn’t pop out of the water right away, and when she finally did, she was thrashing about, as if drowning.
“How deep is that pool?” Cynthia asked her cameraman, a slovenly thirtysomething named Lou.
“Four feet where she fell,” Lou said with furrowed eyebrows.
That’s odd, Cynthia thought.
The poor girl’s flailing continued for several seconds, to audible gasps from the crowd, until one of her security guards finally jumped in to rescue her. He pulled her from the water with the help of Lief and the stern-looking woman, who had rushed to the edge of the pool. Pearl was crying and shaking uncontrollably as they whisked her back behind the curtain, away from prying eyes.
“Come on,” Cynthia whispered to Lou. “Let’s see if we can catch her leaving.”
Much to Cynthia’s chagrin, she wasn’t the only one with that idea. By the time they arrived at the building’s rear entrance, there was already a throng of people clamoring outside, anxiously awaiting a glimpse of the ingénue. When the back doors opened and Pearl finally emerged, she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with a Miami Marlins baseball cap fit snugly on her head. She was flanked by two beefy security guards as she made her way to a black SUV that was parked a few yards from the exit. Cynthia wiggled through the crowd to the front, pulling an apathetic Lou along with her. She earned more than a few dirty looks by those she carelessly pushed aside. Once in front, Cynthia immediately understood and appreciated what all the fuss surrounding this girl was about. She was extraordinarily beautiful, but there was also something different about her, something radiant. She was innocent and mysterious and enchanting all at once. Her crystal-blue eyes gleamed in a hypnotic, almost otherworldly kind of way.
Cynthia caught the model’s eye and was poised to ask a question, when she was suddenly shoved to the side by a dark-haired man. Lou’s camera tumbled to the ground, along with Lou. Cynthia got her bearings and was ready to give their assailant a piece of her mind, until she got a look at him. He was the mystery man whose appearance at Pier 39 had captivated the city. She recognized him from the viral video a colleague had teasingly sent her that morning. Cynthia watched, frozen, as the man reached out for Pearl, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her toward him. A strange bluish mist emanated from their skin on contact. Pearl’s eyes went wide at his touch, and she sucked in a breath. One of her security guards attempted to intervene but was pushed away by the man with just one hand. The guard tumbled backward onto the ground, stunned.
“Is it you, Princess?” Cynthia overheard the man ask Pearl. Cynthia craned her neck to catch what he said next. “Come home before it’s too late and all is lost.”
Pearl yanked her arm back furiously, and the dark-haired man let go with surprise as several more security guards converged. The man quickly maneuvered around them and took off running, disappearing around a corner. Pearl was shuttled to the waiting SUV, with her father and the stern woman following behind. The model was guided into the backseat and quickly driven away. The crowd had been shocked into silence, including Cynthia, who was rarely, if ever, at a loss for words.
“It’s not broken,” Lou reported, having gotten back to his feet. He was now checking the camera.
“But we don’t have the footage,” Cynthia reminded him. “And we’re live in a few minutes,” she added, looking at her watch. Lou shrugged helplessly.
“I guess you’ll just have to describe what you saw,” he suggested.
But Cynthia couldn’t describe it. She had seen the man from Pier 39 up close, and something about him didn’t add up. He’d been bare-chested and wearing swim shorts, and the skin on his legs had appeared to be slick and rubbery and had shimmered in the sunlight. Cynthia had also noticed that his fingers were webbed ever so slightly, and she could have sworn she’d seen slits behind his ears, like gills. And then there was the issue of that strange blue mist.
The viewers of the Pier 39 video had dubbed him a merman in jest, but Cynthia began to wonder if they were actually right. It sounded crazy, yet he was awfully odd, though admittedly quite handsome. His eyes were the same crystal blue as Pearl’s, and paired with his pitch-black hair, it was a striking combination. The rest of him was chiseled perfection, like a walking Michelangelo’s David. He possessed an allure and intensity that was almost distracting Cynthia from the dawning realization that she was sitting on what could prove to be the biggest story of her career, if not the biggest in all of human history. But she couldn’t say a word about it, could she? She would be risking humiliation once again, and if she was wrong, this time it would have a far more devastating impact on her career. But her curiosity was piqued. First the gryphon sighting and now this? Cynthia Salazar had a story to tell, and she knew she was the only one who could to tell it.
* * *
—
Dr. Vance Vantana parked the SUV at the curb in a neighborhood filled with perfectly manicured trees and pricey high-rise apartment towers. He climbed out of the car along with Sam and Tashi, and the trio headed toward the building hosting the Fashion Week event.
“If the selkie is here for the girl, let me talk to him,” Vance said. “He just needs to be reminded of the punishment for violating the gryphon’s law. I’m sure he’ll come around once—”
Vantana didn’t get a chance to finish his thought. A man barreled around the corner and plowed right into the doctor. Vance was instantly floored and momentarily disoriented. Shaking off the hit, he knew this was their creature. Selkies were inhumanly strong, especially outside the water. Tashi and Sam rushed to help Vantana to his feet as he quickly scanned the block and spotted the man sprinting away down the street.
“He’s headed for the water,” the doctor announced as he took off after him. Sam and Tashi followed, keeping pace with Vance until the Guardian edged ahead. The doctor watched in surprise as the young girl quickly passed him by and pressed on after the selkie. The doctor prided himself on being in top physical shape, but Tashi was making him look slower than molasses going uphill in January.
“She does that to me all the time,” Sam yelled, noticing the doctor’s slack-jawed expression. “I have to remind myself she’s got the gryphon blood.”
That’s right, Vance realized. Tashi did have Phylassos’s blood pulsing through her veins. It made her physical prowess a little more understandable, though still humbling.
The selkie was barely able to keep a consistent distance between him and his pursuers. Vance reckoned that the sea creature was still getting used to having legs. Regardless, the selkie had the upper hand, as he paid no mind to traffic signals and bounded across a major thoroughfare without hesitating. Cars swerved; drivers slammed on their brakes and honked wildly, narrowly avoiding collisions with the mystery man. The selkie slid over car trunks, leapt over hoods, and plowed through clueless pedestrians strolling along the sidewalk. He peered back briefly to catch a glimpse of his pursuers, before ducking down an alley. By now Tashi was a few yards ahead of Vance, having made it through the intersection, and was gaining on the creature. They were as close as ever, and Vance took the opportunity to yell to him.
“Hold it right there!” the doctor exclaimed. “You are in violation of the gryphon’s law.” The selkie just kept running, turning the corner at the end of the alleyway and disappearing.
“He doesn’t seem to care,” Sam huffed out.
Vance grunted in agreement. He was actually a little surprised by the creature’s audacity. To risk all this and create a public spectacle just didn’t add up. Aquatic creatures were rarely an issue for the DMW, especially selkies and the like. The doctor couldn’t help but wonder if this one’s blatant defiance had something to do with the events in Hérault and the ensuing revelations regarding Phylassos. If so, it was possible this breach was just the beginning of a pattern, but Vance hoped that was not the case. Either way, it was imperative that he capture the creature and
question him A-SAP.
When the doctor took the corner in pursuit, he spotted the selkie heading down San Francisco’s Lombard Street, a popular landmark known as the world’s most crooked street. Cars traveling on Lombard took eight hairpin turns separated by hedges and flowers, all while descending a steep hill. Pedestrians—mostly sightseeing tourists—traversed a flight of stairs that ran alongside the landmark. The selkie didn’t bother taking the stairs. He jumped over the hedges and down the hill like a superhuman hurdler. Tashi followed, and while she was impressive, she had less success jumping the giant hedges and quickly lost ground. Vance saw that the stairs were packed with people and decided his best bet was to risk the cars on the street. He flew down the twisting, turning road all the way to the bottom, where Sam caught up to him, completely out of breath.
“I think—I’m go—ing to—be sick,” the boy said between ragged gasps for air.
“You can be sick later,” the doctor ordered as he kept on after the selkie. They had already lost the distance they’d made up earlier, and the sea creature was nearing the water. The selkie shot down Leavenworth Street, then hooked a right onto Beach Street and made a beeline for Pier 39. Vance, Sam, and Tashi did their best to keep him in their sights.
When they finally reached the pier, the area was teeming with tourists snapping pictures and buying souvenirs, and the trio quickly got separated. Vance maneuvered through the crowd, keeping his eye on the prize. Sam and Tashi could take care of themselves, he concluded—he had a mission to accomplish. The ranger pushed his way through the crowd and headed for the boat slips. Sure enough, he found the selkie crouched down at the boat lockers. One container was open, and the creature appeared agitated as Vance approached cautiously.
“Lookin’ for this?” he asked, holding up the selkie’s skin. The dark-haired man rose to his feet and stared Vance down, squinting with displeasure. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, all right? My name is Vance Vantana; I’m with the Department of Mythical Wildlife. I’m not gonna keep your skin, but you and I need to have ourselves a talk.” The selkie remained silent, and Vance stopped a few feet away from him. “What’s your name?” he asked, trying a different tack.
The selkie hesitated, then spoke. “I am called Maris,” he said in a halting, irritated tone.
“Nice to meet you, Maris. Can you please tell me what all this—” Before Vance could finish his question, Tashi came bounding down the boat slip.
“Dr. Vantana!” the Guardian called out with concern in her voice.
“Where’s Sam?” Vance asked, instantly noticing the boy’s absence.
“I lost him in the crowd. Come, we must find him!”
“I’m in the middle of something,” Vance informed her, gesturing to the selkie. “Sam can find us.”
“What if he is in danger?” she asked.
“He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’s fine. I’ll help you look for him as soon as I—”
No doubt sensing a moment of weakness, the selkie snatched the seal skin from Vance’s hands, spun around, and dove into the water.
“Aw, nuts!” Vance exclaimed as he watched the selkie disappear into the depths. He turned to Tashi, poised to lose his temper.
“You must improve your grip,” she suggested matter-of-factly. Vance wondered if there was cartoon steam coming from his ears. He swallowed his rage and stomped past her, up the boat slip.
After half an hour of searching, Vance finally located Sam in a gift shop. The doctor had already gotten himself into a lather over the situation, and he angrily marched over to the boy, who was clutching a souvenir picture frame that said “San Francisco” in brightly colored letters.
“Sam London!” Vance bellowed. “What are you thinking? You’re shoppin’? We’re on a case, kid. You just cost me a suspect—” Sam turned to Vance, and the doctor could see that the boy was as white as a ghost.
“I was trying to get to the boat slip and—and something in the store window caught my eye,” the boy stammered, his voice cracking with nerves. “Look—” He showed the frame to Vantana. The picture inside was of a family posing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. Just a stock photo used to help sell a touristy keepsake.
“I’m looking, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing that would justify you fouling up my capture,” the doctor said, his voice rising again in exasperation. “It’s a doggone souvenir picture frame—”
“You don’t understand,” Sam declared. “That man in the photo, Vance…He’s my father.” Tashi looked with a raised eyebrow over Sam’s shoulder. Vantana considered the boy’s words for a moment.
“All right,” the doctor sighed, pressing the pause button on his wrath. “But so what? You said you’ve never met him before. Maybe he’s a model or something,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” Sam replied. “But that’s not the point. His expression, his clothing, it matches the one picture I have of him taken with my mom at Fontana Lake.”
“What are you getting at?” Vance asked, trying to make sense of this information.
“I’m saying that I think the only photo I have of my dad, the one that I’ve stared at for twelve years…is fake.”
The picture Sam London saw in multiple souvenir frames at a gift shop in San Francisco was not, as the old saying goes, “worth a thousand words.” Rather, it had spurred a thousand questions and sent Sam’s world spinning like a top. Sam forked over the cash for one of the frames without a second thought and exited the store. He sat down on a bench outside and quickly slipped the photo out for a closer look. Vance took the seat next to him and Tashi stood nearby. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Sam realized what he had to do in light of this shocking turn of events.
“I have to go home,” Sam said plainly. He had to talk to his mom about this, and it wasn’t like he could just call her up and ask, because what if Nuks was standing right in front of her posing as Sam? That would be problematic, to say the least.
“Because of a picture?” Vance asked.
“Yes, because of a picture. My dad might not be the person I thought he was my entire life, Vance. I need to find out if my mom’s been lying to me.”
“Just hold on a second,” Vance said. “Before we start jumpin’ to conclusions like a frog at Calaveras, let’s talk this through. How sure are you that this is the same picture? Maybe you’re not remembering it exactly right.”
“I’ve seen that picture for as long as I’ve been alive. I think I remember what it looks like,” Sam replied with a huff. It was his favorite picture in the house and was permanently ingrained in his memory. He had never seen his mom look happier than in that photo, and just looking at it always made Sam smile.
“It is the same image of the man,” Tashi interjected with certainty. “I have seen it myself.”
“See?” Sam followed. “Even Tashi agrees, and she’s a Guardian. She probably has supermemory or something.”
“I have a memory that is better than the average human,” Tashi confirmed. Sam gestured to Vance as if to say I told you so.
“Well, what if the company that made that souvenir got ahold of your dad’s picture and copied it and put it into that frame,” Vantana postulated. “Did you ever think of that?”
“Of course I thought of that,” Sam countered.
He considered that theory soon after he spotted the photo and ever since had been trying his best to push aside any thoughts to the contrary—like the fact that the man’s image appeared to fit better with the family in the souvenir frame than with his mom in the photo at home, or that his mother was never all that forthcoming about his father or the picture of them together. She always changed the subject when it came up, and Sam just figured it was because the topic made her sad. Now he had to wonder if she had been keeping something from him the whole time. Whatever the case might be, he needed more information.
&
nbsp; “I should call the company that made it,” Sam concluded. “I could ask them about the models in the photo. Maybe it is just a big coincidence.”
“All right. That’s a start,” Vance said. “But it doesn’t take a sharp-shinned hawk to see that your head’s not in the game. And as much as I don’t want to—’cause I’d love your help—maybe it’s best if I take you and Tashi home so you can get to the bottom of all this.”
Sam was understandably torn. He didn’t want to abandon the case or Dr. Vantana, but he didn’t see any other way. He held on to the possibility, however remote, that the photo of his father had been acquired by this company and used in the souvenir frame. That was the cleanest explanation, and one that didn’t involve his mom lying to him and faking a picture. Even if she had done so to protect him in some way, it required a particular kind of deviousness that Sam refused to believe his mom possessed.
“C’mon, let’s head back to the car,” Vance said as he rose to his feet. Three men suddenly emerged from the crowd. They had large muscular frames and wore dark suits and sunglasses.
“Excuse me,” the tallest of the men said to the doctor. “Were you the three who chased the assailant?”
“Assailant?” Vantana replied quizzically.
“The individual who attacked Pearl Eklund,” the man explained. “We assumed that was why you went after him.”
“Oh, right…yeah,” Vance said, playing along. “Is Ms. Eklund okay?”
“She’s rattled but unharmed,” the man said. “Did you see where her attacker went?”
“I’m afraid not,” the doctor answered regretfully. “We lost him. You wouldn’t happen to know why he went after her like that?”
The man shook his head. “We’re not certain, but he was likely just a crazed fan,” he said, before abruptly putting his hand up to his ear. Sam noticed a small earpiece like the ones Secret Service officers wear. These men must have been part of Pearl’s security detail, Sam concluded as the security guard spoke into a small lapel microphone. “Understood,” he said, then released the button and looked to Vance. “My boss would like to speak with you.”
The Selkie of San Francisco Page 5
