Read Of Neptune (The Syrena Legacy) for Free Online Page B
Authors: Anna Banks
when someone clamps their hand on your mouth, it makes you want to scream? “Be very still, angelfish,” he whispers against the back of his own hand as he tightens it over my lips. A scream builds up inside me, rapping on my vocal chords to set it free. Swallowing doesn’t help. “I … I think I sense something.”
“Something?” I say, but through his hand it sounds like “Umfin?” I thought Syrena could only sense each other, not objects or animals or whatever other “things” Galen could be talking about. Already, this hand-over-mouth thing has grown old. Slowly, I peel his fingers from my face to show him I’m not going to do anything rash. No sudden movements, no loud noises, no swimming ahead.
Definitely no swimming ahead.
“What do you mean, ‘something’?” I hiss.
Galen won’t tear his eyes away from the tunnel ahead of us. Just a few more feet and the cave takes a sharp turn to the right. To think we were actually about to go down there, into the bowels of this place. “I sense … something,” he says quietly. “It’s not Syrena, of that I’m certain. I’ve never sensed this before.” He tucks me behind him, and for once, I let him. “Whatever it is, it’s right around that corner. It’s getting closer.”
I press my forehead into his broad back. “Are you trying to freak me out? Because it’s working.”
He chuckles and I relax a little. “I’m not trying to freak you out, I promise. It’s just … interesting. You’re not curious to see what it is?”
That’s when I notice that we’re moving. Ahead. Since when did Galen become curious? He’s usually the one pulling me back. “But you don’t know what it is. What if it’s dangerous? What if it’s like, Jaws’s prehistoric cousin or something?”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I admit to myself that I do sound a bit panicky. My voice slams against the cave walls, and when it returns to me, I can hear the distinct rattle of hysteria in it. I peer over his shoulder. “Do you see it yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Should I call for backup?”
Galen pauses. “Actually, have you even seen any fish in here? I haven’t. That’s weird.”
It’s not weird; it’s terrifying. There should be fish here. But so far, there’s not a single living thing in this hull of rock. Which probably means a natural predator has set up shop in here.
“Hello?” a voice calls from around the bend.
So the natural predator here is male and speaks English. My first thought is a scuba diver or at the very least a snorkeler. But the words are clear, without the muffling of a mask or mouthpiece. And wouldn’t he need a light down here? Yet there is no light striking through the water. Or maybe my eyes have adjusted enough to where I wouldn’t notice.
A large swarm of fish burst around the turn of the cave and blow past us. Before they get too far, I call after them. “Where are you going? Who’s chasing you? Come back.” I also want to say, Take me with you , but that wouldn’t be very brave.
The entire group comes back and encircles Galen and me. The fish here are not as colorful as they can be in the saltwater, but they’re still interesting to look at—and apparently they think I am, too. Some have stripes and razorlike fins. Others are long and speckled with pink bellies. Then there are short, paunchy-looking fish with spots like a leopard. But despite their differences, they all have one thing in common: They understand the Gift of Poseidon.
It takes me a moment to realize that Galen isn’t looking at the halo of fish around us anymore. He’s looking straight ahead, his jaw clenched. “Who are you?” he says.
The boy swimming toward us cautiously is muscular and, apparently, bold. His blond hair is a bit longer than Galen’s, maybe shoulder length, but I can’t tell because it floats above his head like a fan. He eases closer, wearing only blue swimming trunks and an easy smile, despite the fact that Galen feels taut
“Something?” I say, but through his hand it sounds like “Umfin?” I thought Syrena could only sense each other, not objects or animals or whatever other “things” Galen could be talking about. Already, this hand-over-mouth thing has grown old. Slowly, I peel his fingers from my face to show him I’m not going to do anything rash. No sudden movements, no loud noises, no swimming ahead.
Definitely no swimming ahead.
“What do you mean, ‘something’?” I hiss.
Galen won’t tear his eyes away from the tunnel ahead of us. Just a few more feet and the cave takes a sharp turn to the right. To think we were actually about to go down there, into the bowels of this place. “I sense … something,” he says quietly. “It’s not Syrena, of that I’m certain. I’ve never sensed this before.” He tucks me behind him, and for once, I let him. “Whatever it is, it’s right around that corner. It’s getting closer.”
I press my forehead into his broad back. “Are you trying to freak me out? Because it’s working.”
He chuckles and I relax a little. “I’m not trying to freak you out, I promise. It’s just … interesting. You’re not curious to see what it is?”
That’s when I notice that we’re moving. Ahead. Since when did Galen become curious? He’s usually the one pulling me back. “But you don’t know what it is. What if it’s dangerous? What if it’s like, Jaws’s prehistoric cousin or something?”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I admit to myself that I do sound a bit panicky. My voice slams against the cave walls, and when it returns to me, I can hear the distinct rattle of hysteria in it. I peer over his shoulder. “Do you see it yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Should I call for backup?”
Galen pauses. “Actually, have you even seen any fish in here? I haven’t. That’s weird.”
It’s not weird; it’s terrifying. There should be fish here. But so far, there’s not a single living thing in this hull of rock. Which probably means a natural predator has set up shop in here.
“Hello?” a voice calls from around the bend.
So the natural predator here is male and speaks English. My first thought is a scuba diver or at the very least a snorkeler. But the words are clear, without the muffling of a mask or mouthpiece. And wouldn’t he need a light down here? Yet there is no light striking through the water. Or maybe my eyes have adjusted enough to where I wouldn’t notice.
A large swarm of fish burst around the turn of the cave and blow past us. Before they get too far, I call after them. “Where are you going? Who’s chasing you? Come back.” I also want to say, Take me with you , but that wouldn’t be very brave.
The entire group comes back and encircles Galen and me. The fish here are not as colorful as they can be in the saltwater, but they’re still interesting to look at—and apparently they think I am, too. Some have stripes and razorlike fins. Others are long and speckled with pink bellies. Then there are short, paunchy-looking fish with spots like a leopard. But despite their differences, they all have one thing in common: They understand the Gift of Poseidon.
It takes me a moment to realize that Galen isn’t looking at the halo of fish around us anymore. He’s looking straight ahead, his jaw clenched. “Who are you?” he says.
The boy swimming toward us cautiously is muscular and, apparently, bold. His blond hair is a bit longer than Galen’s, maybe shoulder length, but I can’t tell because it floats above his head like a fan. He eases closer, wearing only blue swimming trunks and an easy smile, despite the fact that Galen feels taut