A - Immortal Sea

The oars checked. “Possessive?”

She firmed her mouth. “Protective.”

He dipped the paddles back into the water. “Zachary is almost a man. It is natural for him to want to protect you.”

“And I‟m his mother. I need to protect him.”

He turned his head, his gaze colliding with hers. “You cannot. He is different, Elizabeth. More different than you can

imagine.”

The intensity in his voice alarmed her. “You mean, he‟s growing up.”

“Growing up. Changing.”

What was he getting at?

She searched his face, his eyes, for a clue, unease constricting her throat and roiling her stomach. She knew that feeling.

Every mother in the world knew that feeling. “Are you talking about puberty?”

“I am talking about the Change in Zachary.” He expelled a harsh breath, letting the oars trail in the water. “This would be

easier if you still believed.”

“Believed what?”

“You have a story you tell in your churches.” He didn‟t move, but she felt the coiled tension in him, the energy bunching

under his skin. “About the Creation.”

Her anxiety spiked. “Is this a religious thing? Is Zack involved in some kind of cult?”

He shot her a look, flat and sharp as a scalpel.

She held up both hands. “Sorry.” Though why she should apologize she had no idea. He was the one who had changed the

subject. “Go on.”

“In the time before time, the elements were formed from the void. And as each element took shape, its people were called

into being—the children of earth, the children of the sea, the children of air, and the children of fire.”

His voice was deep and lulling as the waves that lapped the boat. Liz folded her hands together, forcing herself to focus on

his words.

“Then the Creator made humankind, breathing His immortal soul into mortal clay. Not a popular decision,” Morgan said,

“with any but the angels. The children of fire—you would call them demons—rebelled, declaring war on the children of the air

and humankind.”

“I‟m sure Emily would enjoy this story,” Liz said. “But what does it have to do with Zack?”

“More than I imagined. More than you could dream. Forced to share their territories with this upstart creation, the children

of earth and sea retreated, the fair folk to the mountains and wild places of earth and the merfolk to the depths of the sea.

Generally, the elementals avoid contact with humankind.”

“Okay,” Liz said cautiously. Where was he going with this?

“But some encounters are inevitable,” Morgan said. “Some are sought. And such meetings always have consequences.”

For no reason at all, her heart began to pound. “What kind of consequences?”

“Art. War. Rumors. Legends.” His eyes, deep black with rims of gold, locked with hers. “Children.”

Her mouth was dry, her mind blank. She stared at him, wetting her lips. “I don‟t see . . .”

“I am finfolk, Elizabeth,” Morgan said deliberately. “Merfolk. Our son Zachary is one of those children.”

14

LIZ LAUGHED, A SHORT, SHOCKED, DISBELIEVING sound. “You‟re kidding.”

You’re crazy.

But Morgan appeared perfectly sane, his odd golden-colored eyes unwavering, his hard face composed. He didn‟t look

delusional.

He also didn‟t look like he was joking.

A different fear seized her throat.

“I am finfolk. Our son Zachary is one of those children.”

“You mean Finnish,” she said.

“I am a shape-shifter, Elizabeth.”

No. Her body stiffened in rejection. Her mind reeled in shock. This was Morgan, a man she‟d admitted into her home.

Allowed alone with her children. Had sex with. Twice. And he was . . .

Joking, she told herself firmly.

Or insane.

“This isn‟t funny.” She wet her dry lips, glanced over her shoulder. The shore seemed suddenly very far away.

His words on the beach came back to her. “Otherwise I cannot be sure you will not run away . ”

Dear God.

She twisted on her seat, forcing herself to hold his gaze, to speak calmly. One of them had to be rational. “You look human

to me.”

He was human.

How could he be anything else?

“I am finfolk. A man on land,” he explained. “In the sea, we take the form of creatures of the sea.”

Her stomach lurched. She was trapped on a boat with a madman. Should she try to humor him?

But this was Morgan , her heart insisted, who had shown such insight with Zack, such patience with Emily. There must be

some way to reach him, to reason with him.

“Morgan, I‟m a doctor. I‟ve spent years studying and treating the human body. What you‟re suggesting simply isn‟t

possible.”

“Your medicine is based on human science. I am not human. I am an elemental.”

She ignored his outrageous statement, seizing gratefully on the one word she trusted. “Exactly. Based on science . Reliable

knowledge acquired through empirical evidence and critical thinking. Not speculation based on some cockeyed interpretation

of the Bible or, or fairy tales. You can‟t believe . . . You can‟t expect me to believe . . .”

“I expect nothing. I had hoped . . .” Morgan shook his head. “No matter.”

The oarlocks creaked. The paddles flashed as he raised them, dripping, from the water. Shrugging out of his jacket, he laid

it on the seat beside him.

Liz‟s face felt stiff. Her lips were numb. “What are you doing?”

“Providing you with the empirical evidence you require.” He tugged his shirt over his head. His shoulders were broad, his

torso as pale and smoothly sculpted as marble in a museum. His silver medal gleamed on his chest. “We cannot discuss

Zachary‟s future until you believe.”

Her heart stuttered. “Let‟s not do anything”— crazy —“hasty now. I‟m a doctor,” she repeated, holding on to her

professional identity like a talisman against madness. “I know people you can talk to. People who can help you.”

“Other doctors.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“No.” The boat bobbed in the mild chop. “We are deep enough here.”

Liz clutched the sides, apprehension coiling in her belly. “Deep enough for what?”

He met her eyes. “For me to show you what I am. What our son is.”

Even though she knew nothing was going to happen, a primitive chill chased across the back of her neck and down her

spine. “You really don‟t have to.”

“Yes. I do.”

She bit her lip, tempted to say she believed him just to keep him in the boat. “Just don‟t drown trying to prove anything.”

Sudden laughter lit his eyes. “I can promise you that.”

He stood, one foot on either side of the rocking boat, balancing with an athlete‟s ease and a dancer‟s grace. His toes spread.

Gripped.

Liz caught her breath. Surely that wasn‟t . . .

In one smooth move, he dove over the side. The boat lurched and wallowed. Water sprayed. She closed her eyes against the

splash.

When she opened them again, Morgan had disappeared.

Still gripping the sides, she peered into the cloudy water, relieved when she saw him gliding below, the pale, smooth curve

of his shoulders and back flowing into his long, dark legs. His body appeared almost cut in two, black and white, light and

shadow, his pale hair almost green in the half light. Watching him swim, it was easy to understand the old legends of halfhuman creatures under the sea.