CHAPTER TEN
The face was oblong, with the barest hint of a nose and mouth.
Like the Leviathan, it had large opaque eyes and fins protruding from its head and jawline.
But unlike the Leviathan, its eyes were centered on its face, giving it a less fish-like appearance, and its translucent fins appeared delicate rather than intimidating.
It was clearly an aquatic being of some kind, but there was also something human about the way its head sat atop a graceful neck, which swooped into the smooth shoulders and arms that held me.
What entranced me the most, though, was its magnificent skin. Like the luminous surface of an opal, it glowed in overtones of turquoise and lilac, mint and watermelon. With even the subtlest movement, the colors would shift into an entirely new palette.
I couldn’t say if it was fear or wonder that kept me from screaming.
The creature opened what looked to be a small mouth. “This is the tongue in which you speak, yes?”
Their voice was masculine and feminine, thunderous and soft, gravelly and musical. It was as if the moment they finished speaking, I had already forgotten what their voice sounded like.
After a beat, I remembered they had asked a question. “Yes,” I answered hoarsely.
Their face was devoid of expression. “Are you sufficiently recovered?”
“Yes,” I repeated. Then added, “Thank you for rescuing me.”
There was a subtle sensation of movement, and I became aware that we were gliding along the surface, toward the shore. It was only then that I saw just how far out the current had carried me.
And that the ocean was as still as a pond. No waves in sight. Not even a ripple.
I felt the slightest drag against the hands that held me upright. Then I realized they were not hands at all, but some sort of fin-like protrusions, as delicate as the fins encircling the being’s face.
“You are the leader of your group, yes?”
If I weren’t still recovering from a brush with death, I would have laughed. “No, not at all. The leader is—” I paused. Who was the leader? Cecil? Kieran? Did the Strangers even have a leader? I said finally, “The leader is someone else.”
“I see.”
As we drifted soundlessly inland, another realization hit me. Where was everyone?
I wanted to twist to look behind me. But even though I felt confident that this being wouldn’t have saved my life if they had wanted me dead, something told me I should keep my eyes trained on their face.
They spoke again. “You must communicate to the rest of your group that my ‘Leviathan,’ as you have named it, is to be left alone.”
At least a dozen questions began to form in my mind. But since I still had no idea what sort of being I was speaking to, I said simply, “I apologize that we disturbed the—I mean, your Leviathan. I’ll share your message with the others.”
“The misstep is understandable,” the being replied. “You may fish from my waters. You may take what you need to sustain yourselves. But you are not to involve the inhabitants of my waters in your human conflicts, indirectly or otherwise.”
Something struck me as odd about that phrasing, “indirectly or otherwise.” I couldn’t imagine anything more patently direct than attacking something with a spear. But my head was a muddled, murky mess. How many times could I escape death in this life before it finally claimed me?
“You may stand.”
Up until that point, my legs had been raised, my kneecaps almost grazing the surface. Now I lowered them and felt the cushiony feel of sand against my feet. The sensation was comforting. Yet my legs instantly gave out beneath me. The water was only chest-deep, but I almost slipped under again.
The being’s head tilted slightly to look over my shoulder.
At the same time, a different pair of arms caught me from behind, warm and strong.
When looked up, I could’ve cried with relief to see Kieran staring back at me.
His features were weighed down by fatigue, his breathing heavy. Rather than the silver that I had become accustomed to, his eyes were dark. The color of the sky on a dreary day. After he took in the sight of me, assessing, his gaze drifted up to the being who hovered next to me.
“You will relay my message,” the being said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” I confirmed. Then added, “I can’t thank you enough for saving my life. Would it be alright for me to ask for your name?”
The being remained unblinking. Expressionless. “You would not be able to pronounce my name in your tongue. Please give me a name that you find suitable, and that is what your kind shall call me.”
Wait. What?
I asked for a name, and the response was to name this magical being myself?
I couldn’t have imagined a task that came with more pressure. As spent as I was, my body still found the means to bring a flush of color to my cheeks.
“Um…okay,” I began, stalling for time. Then, “Your skin reminds me of an opal. But there’s also something in it that reminds me of the surface of the ocean, particularly with all the shades of turquoise. How about Larimar? After the stone?”
The being was silent.
Then they lifted one of those fin-like protrusions, the movement so abrupt that I would’ve jumped if I could have.
Sitting in the center of their outstretched fin was a larimar stone, its veined surface a near replica of how the ocean had looked when we first arrived at the beach, while the sun was high. “This is the stone you speak of?”
I should have been more surprised that the being summoned a stone out of thin air. But they had magic, after all. And considering the way this day had gone, it only made sense that they would do something fantastical.
I nodded.
“Then that is what you shall call me.” The being extended their fin further. “Take this. If there is a discussion to be had or a conflict to be settled, you will use it to summon me. The events of this evening will not be repeated.”
With effort, I extended my own hand and grasped the stone.
Then I blinked, and Larimar was gone. In the same moment, the waters subtly began to shift again.
Kieran hoisted me up, cradling me in his arms, and began carrying me back to shore.
As soon as he turned, I saw Nya, Cecil, Xiomara, and the rest of the Strangers standing in the shallows. Including the boy I had tried to save, I noted with enormous relief. All of them were standing with arms at their sides, mouths hanging open, wide eyes fixed on me.
Feeling self-conscious, I turned into Kieran’s chest. The warmth of his skin radiated through me. My self-consciousness increased tenfold, and I was thankful he couldn’t see my face.
“What was that?” he asked, his tone even. Almost forcibly so.
“I don’t know. My only guess is some kind of water spirit—”
“I’m not talking about the being,” he interrupted, each word clipped. “Why were you out that deep? Or in the water at all?”
I swallowed. “I was trying to rescue someone. The boy with the curly hair. He was hurt and screaming for me to help him. He was going to drown.”
My head rose and fell with Kieran’s chest as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Right. You can’t swim, so you try to save someone who’s drowning. Makes perfect fucking sense.”
As we approached, the others gathered around us.
I relayed Larimar’s message, and none of them seemed surprised.
Apparently, around the same time I saw the light beneath the surface, the group was abruptly pulled back to shore by an unseen force.
And the Leviathan, in all its mammoth glory, seemed to be jerked by some unseen force back out to sea.
The message was expected. And yet, as we trooped the rest of the way back to the beach, Kieran still carrying me in his arms, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all eyeing me warily.
We made camp for the night amid the sand dunes. The beach would have been a more convenient spot, but after the events of the evening, everyone wanted to put at least a little distance between us and the water.
A few suggested we just go ahead and make the hike back to Ersa Estates. But Nya declared that the injured would benefit from at least one night of rest, and soon everyone agreed.
Only one man had died. The one whose death I had witnessed. Nya explained that the Leviathan had plucked the man, who had been standing to her left, out of the water with its fangs. I had obviously seen the rest for myself.
I had expected a bigger reaction from the group to the loss of their comrade, but they were all surprisingly stoic. When you lived Outside, Nya had explained, the loss of companions, and even close friends and family, came with the territory.
“If you cried for everyone who died,” she had said. “You would never stop crying.”
However, everyone was quiet the rest of the evening. Somber.
The only outburst of emotion was from the boy I had tried to save.
His injures—a broken leg and a slew of bloody friction burns—were from getting slammed by the tip of the monster’s tail.
He was lucky to be alive, and he knew it.
He gave me a giant bear hug and wept as he alternated between apologizing and thanking me.
That night, we settled onto blankets and sleeping bags. Spaced out enough to give each other room to breathe, but close enough to provide a sense of security.
I was thankful that Nya had reminded me to pack a change of clothes. The feeling of my dry cotton shirt and shorts against my skin was a comfort, helping to distance me from all that I had endured that day. I couldn’t even imagine how the others felt.
But long after the rest of the group fell asleep—or at least laid still and silent, trying for sleep—I found myself wide awake, staring at the stars.
As utterly exhausted as my body was, my mind was overwhelmed.
I ruminated on all the events of the day.
I combed through the conversation with Larimar.
Why would they think I, of all people, was the leader of the group?