A - Immortal Sea

woods behind the middle school looking for snakes. Once they‟d found a copperhead coiled under a log and poked it with a

stick to watch it strike.

The danger was part of the thrill.

The light pulsed like a heartbeat, piercing the darkness, reaching, seeking, drawing him on. Everything else faded and fell

away from that blue radiance, the flowing kelp, the twisting worms, the armored crabs and mollusks. The sea bottom around

was barren. The odd light played over stones and bones and the shells of small creatures that had died.

Zack felt a brush of caution, a moment of misgiving, an instant‟s unease.

He shook it away. He was invulnerable in the water.

He was close enough now to see the orb itself, half-buried in the sand. The opaque surface ran with color like a garden

globe, blue, green, silver, pink. The light throbbed around him, moved into him, its beat reflected and magnified by the

surrounding rock

like the surge of the sea

like the flow of his breath

like the rhythm of his blood

like a mother‟s heartbeat to the child swimming in her womb.

Closer. The whisper reached into his head.

Closer. The command twined around his heart.

Touch me. He shivered with excitement.

Release me. Entranced, he drifted nearer, trapped by the primal beat.

The water shivered. Faint vibrations dragged along his skin, tugged at his attention.

Not the orb.

His sharpened senses identified turbulence. Something coming, hard and fast. Boat?

Predator.

Panic pumped his heart. The globe. The thought slid into his primitive brain, sharp as a heated knife. He couldn‟t let his

precious orb be seen, touched, taken by another.

A small, rational part of his mind protested another shark would hardly covet a submerged garden ornament, but its voice

was drowned by the rush of fear, the possessive swell, the compulsion beating in his brain.

Hide. He must hide it.

He backed clumsily, confined by the narrow crevice in the rock. Sand stirred and settled over the orb‟s surface, veiling the

glow. Yes, yes. He writhed around, swept the sea bottom with his tail. A great dark cloud of debris boiled and billowed,

choking him, cutting off the light.

Yessss.

He shot from the cloud into the clean salt dark, his blood pounding as he raced through the open sea, adrenaline and

triumph coursing through his veins. Free, clear, fast, fearless, at the top of the fucking food chain.

WHAM.

The impact exploded out of nowhere, catching him broadside, slamming his ribs, knocking him yards off course. He

floundered, struggling to orient himself in the dark sea.

Aggression flooded his brain. He turned to attack.

BAM.

Another punch from below. The force hurtled him to the surface. He lashed wildly, twisting to defend himself.

In the shadowed depths beneath him, a monster slid into sight. Broad white snout, massive pale sides, a flat, dark gash of a

mouth . . .

Another shark.

Holy shit.

The thing was huge, twice his size. Panic stabbed his chest. His heart hammered. His ribs throbbed.

Flight or fight? His shark self screamed for blood. But he was battered, bruised, afraid. In open sea, the monster shark

would certainly outswim him. Maybe, if he could make it to the island, he could lose himself in the rocks?

Zack dived.

The other shark glided to intercept him. Zack switched course, but his pursuer changed direction, too, anticipating his

moves. He braced for another blow.

But instead of striking with its snout, this time the monster merely brushed him, bumping his side. Zack bunched his body,

whipped his tail to get away.

The shark circled after him, its movements graceful, almost lazy in the clear black water. Zack plunged and zipped, back

and forth, making another run for the rocks. The shark cut him off with a second warning bump. Abandoning his plan, Zack

fled.

Water streamed. Fish scattered. The monster pursued, moving occasionally to bump or block him.

He was being driven. Herded, Zack realized, with the portion of his brain that still functioned in his terror. Forced in the

direction of World‟s End.

His body was stretched, his strength depleted. His sides hurt. He couldn‟t concentrate. His mind darted behind, ahead. If he

could reach the cove, the shallow water might save him.

In a last burst of hope and energy, he drove himself at the shore. Waves churned. His belly scraped bottom. With luck, the

monster behind him would beach itself on the rocks.

Frantically, he flailed and felt his limbs pop and change, felt his skin shrink and wrinkle, felt his tortured lungs expand. His

mouth gaped as the surf foamed around him, as the cold air struck his shivering back, his starving lungs. He was naked.

Vulnerable. Human. If the shark caught him now . . .

He clawed his way up the beach on numb knees and frozen hands, desperate to get up, get out, get away from the rush of

the water.

He collapsed for a moment, his cheek pressed to the sand, the webbing melting from between his fingers, his face wet with

salt and tears and terror. Must breathe. Must move. Summoning his last strength, he crawled to his discarded clothes. Stared,

dumbfounded, at the pile on the sand.

That wasn‟t his shirt. Those weren‟t his shoes.

“You must not go into the water,” Morgan said behind him, “until you have learned to defend yourself.”

13

HIS SON SPRAWLED, BEACHED, BLINKING, NAKED on the sand. No longer shark, but human.

The fear and temper that had driven Morgan to herd the boy ashore threatened to explode in all too human ways now they

were on land. He clenched his fists, willing them to subside.

The boy was back and safe for now.

He strode out of the surf. “Get up.”

Zachary spat. “Get away from me.”

Not an auspicious beginning to the discussion they must have.

Perhaps he had been rough on the boy, but the threat, and his own pumping terror, had taken him by surprise.

“Are you all right?” Morgan asked.

Zachary curled to a sitting position, covering himself. “Leave me alone.”

Morgan‟s eyes narrowed. The boy appeared unharmed. Bruised, embarrassed, angry, but unharmed. But there had been a

definite taint of demon in the water where he found him. The children of the sea were immortal, but they could still be killed.

Possessed. Zachary, half-human and inexperienced, was particularly vulnerable even before he was targeted by the demon

lord.

“You have no idea of the dangers out there.”

“I was fine until you came along.”

“Which only proves how little you know.”

Zachary tossed back his wet hair. His gaze speared Morgan‟s, his eyes accusing and curiously adult. “Whose fault is that?”

Morgan was silent. In truth, he could have spoken to the boy before this. He had an obligation to his prince and his people.

Zachary belonged on Sanctuary, where his power could be assessed and trained. Morgan should have made an opportunity and

forced the issue. He had not, because of Elizabeth.

Because he wanted to bed her.

A flare of remembered fire licked his belly.

His plan had been simple and ruthless: claim Zachary, fuck Elizabeth, and go. Now that he had achieved both goals, he had

no excuse to dally on World‟s End.