Chapter 16 #3
I’m not hungry at all, but I’ve barely eaten today. He’s probably right.
We make our way back to the car. I don’t trust the ocean at my back, afraid it could sneak up on me, drag me away kicking and screaming.
Another part of me hates to leave it behind. The longer I spend in its presence, the more I appreciate the screech of the gulls, the lapping of the tides, the laughter of happy families.
And there is yet another part of me that yearns to see the world beneath the waves.
If I have gills, then I can swim deeper and further, see firsthand all the magnificent creatures I’ve watched in documentaries over the years.
Unfortunately, that also creates a lot of opportunities for said creatures to eat me.
Duncan drives us to a little diner just off the main road. I’m really not hungry, but I don’t want to disappoint him, so I order pancakes and eggs. Fairly light, relatively inexpensive.
We find a booth at the back of the diner, next to a noisy television and away from everyone else. I keep my phone in my pocket, to be looked at only in an emergency. I don’t want to know if Jeremy has tried to reach me or not. I can’t decide which option is worse.
Duncan orders a waffle and a coffee. Finally, after the waitress leaves, he says, “Was that a safe enough distance?”
I nod.
He taps his spoon on the countertop, a frenetic beat. Is he nervous? Why?
“If you ever want to practice changing,” he says, “let me know. I can go with you.”
I want to joke that he just wants to see my ass, but I don’t know him well enough for that. “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll let you know.”
And then, because I can’t think of anything else to say, I tell him, “My mom drew this weird symbol all over our house, and I just learned what it means.”
“Oh?” He glances at me over the rim of his coffee cup.
“I guess it’s for protection.”
At this, he lowers his mug, suddenly intent. “That’s not good.”
“It’s weird,” I muse, just as the waitress arrives with our food. Her name is Tara, and she looks completely unenthused to be here, practically dropping our plates in front of us. When she’s gone, I continue, “It’s not like she was really paranoid about anything but the water.”
In the middle of cutting his waffle, Duncan freezes, looks to me in alarm. “You said it’s for protection?”
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I guess it can have other meanings, but that was the main one. Protection and anonymity in the seas.”
Duncan lowers his fork. His expression is grave. “Dominic,” he says, and his voice is so serious that I stop trying to spear my scrambled eggs and look back at him. “Do you think… Is it possible you’re being hunted?”
Hearing my fears spoken aloud makes them so much more powerful. Suddenly, a paranoid thought that I can push away becomes a credible fear, a distinct possibility that I’m completely unprepared for. “I… I don’t know. I don’t think so?”
He takes a bite of waffle, chews slowly, looks like he’s thinking really hard. I’m about to crawl out of my skin when he swallows and says, “I did some research, and I don’t want to scare you, but merfolk are, um, historically in demand. And by in demand, I mean—”
“Hunted,” I finish, nodding glumly. “I know.”
“Right,” he says. “You should be careful. Don’t tell anyone. Shifter body parts can be worth a lot.”
I nod, stir my eggs in a circle. I’m going to be sick.
Sensing this, Duncan scowls down at his waffle and changes the subject. “I bet she was afraid someone would learn the truth about you.”
But if that was the case, then why send me off to college in the first place? Why not keep me at home with her? I was already afraid of it. If she’d demanded I stayed, I would have.
Then I think about it a little more and realize there were probably sigils hidden within all of my things. Who’s to say that she hadn’t drawn something on the inside of my bed frame, or in the glove compartment of my car, or somewhere else I wouldn’t easily notice? “Do sigils actually work?”
“I mean, they can.” He takes another bite of waffle, then sips some coffee. “They usually do. But they won’t stop someone really determined.”
“So it might have warded off someone casually looking for me.”
“Exactly.” He nods. “They’re helpful but not going to work any miracles.”
“So that’s the reason for the secrecy. Magic can’t keep me totally hidden.”
“Sigils won’t.”
I sigh. Set down my fork. “Fuck.”
Not for the first time, I’m furious she didn’t tell me. If someone is looking for me, I deserve to know. I can’t protect myself if I don’t have any details.
“I can ask some questions,” says Duncan, looking down at his waffle like he’s expecting to find the answers written in maple syrup. “I don’t know anyone like you, but I could—I know someone who would.”
Of course. Duncan has connections to other shifters. Someone out there who might have ties to the mer, or know someone who does. And while a part of me is offended that he won’t tell me who these people are, I can appreciate that this isn’t his secret to tell. “Do you trust them?”
Gray eyes land on me. “With my life,” he says.
Something in me relaxes.
“Do it.”