CH 103
The plaza buzzes around me, oblivious to my growing panic. I try to blend in, though my eyes are darting around like a cornered animal’s.
The smells of grilled seafood and tropical fruit that had seemed inviting just moments ago now feel heavy and distracting, tangling with the sounds of laughter and voices into a sticky web that’s pulling me under.
A couple of kids dash by, kicking up sand as they chase each other, and a woman selling leis calls out to me with a friendly, “Aloha, miss! Care for some flowers?”
I shake my head, giving her a tense smile. “No, thank you.”
I glance down at the empty smoothie cup in my hand, the bright mango yellow at the bottom mocking me, a reminder of how I’d foolishly thought this trip could be simple. Just show up, ask around, and uncover family secrets—easy, right?
“Wake?” I murmur, my voice getting swallowed up by the noise around me. I know he’d hate it if he could see me now, hesitating like this. I scan the plaza again, my gaze searching every inch, every face.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter to myself. “Where are you?”
I steady my breathing, forcing down the panic threatening to spill over. Focus, Phoebe.
If I know anything about Wake, it’s that he wouldn’t wander somewhere he couldn’t keep me in his line of sight. He’s never out of reach for long; his instinct to protect me runs deeper than any passing frustration.
I scan the landscape, eyes tracing the beach where we’d been standing together just minutes ago, then move to the surrounding areas, slowly stretching the radius of my search. Wake’s eyesight is leagues beyond mine, I remind myself.
With his vision, he could be standing twice as far away and still see me clearly, which means he could have pulled back without me even realizing. My gut instinct tells me he wouldn’t wander too far, though—not when he’s still so wary of unfamiliar terrain.
My thoughts race to sift through everything I know about him. Wake’s whole being is tied to the ocean; it calls to him, draws him in like a beacon, and I know he’d never willingly stray too far from its reach. Inland wouldn’t make sense, not for him.
He’s somewhere along the coast, maybe further up, somewhere he can feel the salt breeze and keep the vastness of the water in his line of sight.
My heartbeat slows as my mind catches up to my logic. I’m onto something.
I start walking north along the beach, eyes scanning the horizon, looking out across the waves and squinting at figures in the distance, hoping one of them is him. Sand crunches beneath my feet, the sound drowned by the soft crash of the waves, steady and rhythmic. I breathe in deeply, letting the familiar brine and ocean air ground me, as if I could somehow channel his instincts to guide me to him.
And then, there he is.
Standing atop a dune, arms crossed, his intense gaze fixed on a group of surfers riding the waves. Relief washes over me, and I almost collapse into it, savoring the small rush of calm that follows. He’s so focused on the surfers that he doesn’t notice me at first. His stance is statuesque, solid, and the seriousness in his gaze makes me wonder if he’s on the verge of confronting the waves themselves.
I approach quietly, taking in the way he watches the surfers with that same intense curiosity he brings to everything in my world. He looks like he’s studying their every move, each flick of their boards and dip into the water, his expression a mixture of interest and something that almost borders on confusion.
“That’s how humans ride the waves,” I say, sidling up next to him. “Because, well… we can’t exactly swim through currents the way you can.”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even turn to look at me. His eyes stay locked on the surfers, brow furrowing slightly. “It seems,” he says, his voice low and contemplative, “an inefficient mode of travel.”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. “Travel?” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not about going anywhere, it’s about the thrill. It’s fun.”
“After that miserable flight,” he says with a hint of dry humor, “I’ve had my fill of human thrills.”
I snort. “Flying isn’t for everyone, but surfing? I have a feeling that’s more your speed.” I feel my smile fade some. “I used to love surfing as a kid. I wish we could go out there, take my mind off of things for a bit.”
He turns to me, his face calm but curious. “Why can you not?”
I blink at him, caught off guard. “You mean besides the fact that I haven’t surfed in years and I’d probably fall on my face? Oh, right—because salt water triggers the transformation. And if I set foot in that water…” I glance pointedly at the surfers. “Let’s just say their vacation would get a lot weirder.”
Wake’s lips twitch in a faint smirk. “You have finished taking the stabilizers Hiro gave you, yes?”
“Yeah, I took the last one at the airport. Why?”
“Then you will be fine.”
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. “Fine to do what, exactly?”
He takes one final bite of the fish, then the last spoonful of his shaved ice, setting the coconut shells aside. “To enter the water.”
The way he says it—so matter-of-factly—makes me freeze. “What are you talking about? Salt water equals tail. We’ve established this.”
Wake shifts his gaze back to the surfers, his expression thoughtful. “Not necessarily.”
“Care to explain that cryptic little tidbit?”
His eyes find mine again, steady and unwavering. “While not many of my Clan venture onto land, there are others—Enkians from different Clans—who do. For them, the transformation has always been intentional.”
“Wait, wait.” I hold up a hand, trying to process what he’s saying. “Are you telling me that touching salt water doesn’t automatically trigger the transformation?”
“It does,” he says, “but only for those who do not know how to control it.”
My heart skips a beat. “Can you control it?”
His jaw tightens, his expression darkening. “I can.”
I stare at him, a hundred questions racing through my mind. “How? When did you learn that?”
His voice lowers. “I learned while I was in Enigma’s tank.”
The words hit me like a slap. I try to keep my face neutral, but I can feel the sting of his admission. “And you never thought to tell me?”
Wake exhales, a mixture of frustration and regret clouding his features. “It was not information I felt comfortable sharing while you still worked with Enigma.”
His words sting, but they make sense. Still, the hurt lingers. I look away, focusing on the waves instead of the ache in my chest. “Fair enough,” I mutter.
For a moment, we sit in silence, the sound of the ocean filling the space between us. I breathe deeply, letting the salt-tinged air calm my nerves. He didn’t trust me then, but he does now. That has to count for something.
“How do you do it?” I ask quietly. “Keep yourself from transforming?”
Wake’s voice softens, as if he senses the shift in my mood. “It is an act of willpower. At the first touch of salt water, there is a moment—a pull—an almost overwhelming instinct to change. You must choose not to give in. It is intense, but it passes.”
I study his face, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. There’s none. He speaks with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
A small smile tugs at my lips. “So… what you’re saying is, I can go surfing.”
His brow lifts slightly, and for the first time since I found him watching the surfers, there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “If you believe you can resist the change.”
I roll my eyes, turning toward the nearest surf shack. “Oh, I believe. Come on!”
“Where are we going?” He calls after me.
“To find us some surfboards!”
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