Seven Tears at High Tide (17 page)

“Pssh, you bleeding-heart liberal. If you haven't found him by now, I'm sure he's gotten away. Wonder if Jake has that heat-tracking software up and running and found which way he's gone.”

Amanda glares at him and dives back down.

Curiosity drives Morgan to take a deep breath and swim after her, to see what she's looking at. He follows the light from her headlamp, shining on the chair and pieces of ropes sitting silently on the ocean floor.

A bright rush of anger floods through him. They tried to hurt Kevin. Even if he were a selkie, he wouldn't have been able to transform without a pelt. Maybe he could have spoken to the Sea and asked for help, and another selkie could have heard, but that's…

That's exactly what they were hoping for. To lure someone else to capture, so they could have more people to study.

Morgan is so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't see it until Amanda's light shines on the pelt caught in the rocks at the bottom of the harbor, swaying slightly in the drifting current. He darts forward, but it's too late, and it's already in her hands.

She stares at it incredulously, running a reverent hand over sleek fur, and starts to swim for the surface, not seeing Morgan in the dark shadows of the rocks.

He needs air, too; he can't forget that in this body.

Morgan surfaces a small distance from the boat, and hears them clamoring excitedly.

“Look, we have the pelt; we don't need the boy now. Just get Jake to run the tests, take a few samples and give it back to him,” Amanda implores.

“No, that's not enough,” Nathaniel says. “We need the boy
and
the pelt. I say we make up some fake gifted school, some excuse we can give his parents and get him to come with us. I still can't believe Mike's kid has been a selkie this whole time. Wonder if he got it from his mom. Always thought the boy was weird; he never shut up about the ocean and rocks.”

“Take him away from his family?” Amanda gasps. “That's ridiculous.”

“You have no idea how serious I am about this,” Nathaniel says, a steely glint in his eye. “I've been made a mockery of in the scientific community ever since I suggested this species exists. I'm going to need living, breathing proof, not just another pelt that looks like it could come from any old seal.”

Amanda clutches the pelt to her chest and shakes her head. “This has gone too far. I'm not your graduate student anymore. I only signed on to do this…
project
with you for the experience, and now I've got it, thanks. I'm gonna put this back where I found it.”

Nathaniel sighs. “Fine. Do what you must.”

Morgan feels a slim thread of relief as Amanda turns around to dive back in the water.

While she's putting on her diving mask, Nathaniel lunges for the pelt, pushing her roughly. Amanda screams as she topples over the side, and the pelt flies out of her hands. Nathaniel picks it up; his lips curve in a satisfied smile.

“Jake, take the boat back to the dock. We're gonna get ready to get this kid to come with us.”

The boat engine whirrs, and starts speeding back toward the shore, and Amanda flails in the water.

Oh no.

They still think Kevin is the selkie.

“Don't touch him,” Morgan says loudly, the strength of his voice startling himself. He swims toward the boat, past a startled Amanda, who treads water and stares at him incredulously.

The boat stalls, and Jake gapes at him as Morgan grabs the edge of the boat and peers aboard.

The two men stare at him, and Morgan glares with all the anger he can muster. “Leave him out of this. He's human. That—” and he jerks his head at the pelt in Nathaniel's hands— “that is mine.”

Jake grabs for the pelt. “I want to see it, want to see him change.”

“No! Give it back to him now and he'll swim away and all will be lost. Haven't you heard any of the stories? We have the pelt, we have all the power. He has to listen to us or he's stuck.” Nathaniel grins, the white of his teeth blinding in the dark. He must have been a good-looking man, once, but Morgan doesn't have to ask the Sea what his intentions are, because he can see them from here—this man and his heart are terrifying.

“You're gonna take us to where the rest of you are, or we'll cut apart your pelt and you'll never get it back. And then I'll call up the rest of my team, and we'll have all the selkies at our disposal. Shifting cells? Body transmogrification? I'm gonna revolutionize the medical industry, prove I was right all those years ago when I first saw one of your kind.” Nathaniel leers at him.

“No,” Morgan says firmly. A part of him knows he's already lost, that his sealskin—the only thing that will let him return to the Sea— is already in the hands of people who mean him and his family harm.

“What do you mean, no? I've got your lifeline right here, and without it you're gonna sink, boy.”

“I don't care. Do whatever you want with the pelt, but I'm not telling you where my family is. And you stay away from Kevin, too. He's no use to you.”

Tears begin to well up in Morgan's eyes, and he's trembling with anger. He refuses to back down—to the hunters, to the traditions of his herd. Why does he have to choose? To live a paltry imitation of his former life just because of the Sea's ancient traditions about keeping the bloodlines separate? He can outright
refuse
to go either way— he doesn't have to only live in one world. This summer it's clear he's thrived on both land and sea; the need to separate the two seems trivial. The tears fall, but Morgan makes no move to wipe them away.

It doesn't matter anyway. Morgan is never going to make it back to his family's beach. They're never going to sing his name into the song celebrating the adults of their herd. He thinks of his mother watching Naida lead a song, watching her prepare for leadership; thinks about the pups rolling around in the sand without a care in the world; thinks of the young mated pairs like Micah and Oki, hopeful for the future; thinks of his entire herd, those he loved and grew up with— their safety and happiness is worth losing his freedom.

Morgan climbs onto the boat, standing steadily.

Nathaniel flips open a container and takes out a large, rusty pair of sharp scissors. “I'll cut it into pieces, I will,” he says, sneering.

“Go ahead. I'm still not telling you.”

Amanda has caught up with them, swimming up behind to Morgan. “Give it back to him, Nate,” she calls out. “Cutting up his pelt won't do anyone any good. Leave the boy alone.”

The scissors flash, and Morgan steels himself for the sensation of being separated irrevocably from the Sea. He wonders if after today he'll still lose his memory, stuck as a human.

“Boss, don't, look at this,” Jake says, pulling the scissors away from Nate. He pushes a laptop at him. “I finally finished cleaning up the GPS data you had me stick on the kid's car for the past week. Looks like the boy took a trip up the coast yesterday. We've got the coordinates right here. We know where they are.”

“We know where they are,” Nathaniel repeats, eyes wide.

“No,” Amanda gasps, next to him. “I am so sorry,” she says, turning to Morgan. “I thought it was only going to be photos, or if we met any of you there would be questions, but I didn't think that he—”

“Take me instead,” Morgan says, stepping forward. “Leave them alone. You can do your experiments on me. I'll go with you.”

Amanda is climbing onto the boat next to him, and she hands him something—a large, hooded sweater that was on a bench.
Oh, right, I'm naked.
Morgan shrugs on the sweater, and it's so large it falls to his knees. He's tempted to pull the hood up and tighten the strings as he does with Kevin's sweater, but this isn't the time for comfort. He has to look strong.

“Really?” Nathaniel asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“You don't have to do this,” Amanda whispers. “It's a huge sacrifice, giving up your family, your ability to transform—”

“I'm protecting them. I do it gladly.”

“Yes,” Nathaniel quickly agrees.

Even though the sun just set, the sky is as dark as mid­night. Clouds form above them in violent dark swirls and rain falls heavily, droplets hitting the boat's deck in a rapid
tat tat tat.
The humans on the boat yelp in confusion, and Morgan holds steady, watching it all. A large wave rushes toward them, flooding the boat. The others thrash about, searching for something to hold onto. The scene is utter chaos, but Morgan can sense the Sea whispering to him, and a calm settles in as the Sea flows all around him.

For a moment, he forgets he's on the boat. It's only him and the Sea, the endless centuries of magic and the ancient consciousness, and Morgan can feel the emotion—not of another selkie or some­one else in the water, but of the Sea.

It's pride.

A pleased voice sounds in his head, and Morgan is so stunned he can't move. It's always been rather abstract, the way selkies have described “talking” to the Sea. Information comes and goes, and most people Morgan has talked to refer to it as an encyclopedia of sorts, a collective magic from which they pull stories or memories, and to which they add their own.

You did well, young halfling.

The voice—if Morgan could call it a voice—is like many voices speaking, layered over one another, in different languages, resonating powerfully.

I don't understand,
Morgan responds.

It is a very old custom, choosing between worlds, and one that should have been retired long ago
.

Everything changes, and the Sea is no different. The halflings that came before Morgan
—
and they were few and far between, he barely counts five different stories the Sea shows him
—
had little desire to see the human world, all but one deciding to stay with their herd. The other, the Sea only saw once more at the end of her life, and it had been a good one. She'd lived as a human for the rest of her years, with an unknowing pull to return to the Sea, and only accomplished that in her old age.

The Sea shows Morgan all of this in an instant, and then says,
The usual rule is seven years, to see the maker of a Request again—but I suppose seven months should be fine. Fare well, Morgan.

And with that, the waves recede, and the clouds part. It's a soft purple twilight again, and the ocean is calm, as if the sudden storm never happened.

Nathaniel splutters, shaking himself. “What the hell was that?”

Morgan shrugs, smiling, feeling lighter than he has in a long time.

“The damn laptop got soaked. Jake, please tell me you backed that information up,” he says, shaking the other man.

Jake frowns, and pushes his hair back. It doesn't look all that different wet than it did when it was gelled. “I was gonna do that once we got back to shore.”

Amanda picks something off the deck of the boat—Morgan's pelt—and hands it to him. “I believe this is yours.”

“You! You're fired!” Nathaniel hisses, pointing an accusing finger at her.

“You don't pay me.” Amanda folds her arms and taps her foot on the deck.

Morgan holds his pelt hesitantly, not sure if this will work. It feels the same, the same current of potential energy hums under his fingertips.

“Go on, get out of here,” Amanda says, nudging him forward.

Morgan jumps off the boat, the discarded sweatshirt floats away, and he swirls the pelt around himself, laughing in surprise when the transformation takes hold.

He dives gleefully and resurfaces, splashing.

Amanda jumps in the water with him, scuba gear all askew, watching him with spellbound eyes. Even Nathaniel and Jake are peering over the boat, gasping.

“You,” Nathaniel says, pointing a finger at Jake. “Where's the camera, why aren't you recording this? We should be getting all this down, at least photos, something!” When Jake doesn't move, Nathaniel raises his voice, loud and shrill in the otherwise calm night. “You can't do this! I've worked so hard for this!” Nathaniel shouts, and at that Amanda gives an affected look, and Morgan gets the idea that she's done most of the work. “This was going to be my opus! I need to get my name back, and the scientific community will regret ever laughing—”

A sudden wave out of nowhere knocks the boat, and Nathaniel falls into the water, spluttering helplessly.

Jake looks from the man in the water to Amanda and Morgan, shrugs, and turns the boat back toward shore, the engine
putt-putt
ing rhythmically as Nathaniel yelps and paddles after him.

Morgan laughs again, and it comes out as a happy little bark. He is about to swim away when he sees Amanda wave goodbye to him.

The Sea finds the information easily: Amanda Everhart, age twenty-four, a graduate student in marine biology, who was trying to publish her work on seal community migration when her advisor, Nathaniel, enlisted her help with his wild goose chase. She is relieved that Morgan is free, and that Nathaniel doesn't have the selkie herd's location, but disheartened to have spent so much time away from her own thesis. She's crying happy, exhausted tears, but wishes she didn't have to go back to school alone, tail between her legs, without an advisor and with miles and miles of fieldwork to make up.

Morgan thinks about swimming back to the beach, where he knows everyone is getting ready to swim south. They'll follow the current, ending up on a bright beach where they can enjoy the sun and catch more fish and sing more songs. It'll be the same, every day.

He loves his family, but now that it's not forever, now that he doesn't have to choose—he'd gladly welcome the opportunity to see more of the human world. His older brothers and sisters have all spent copious amounts of time on land. Why not he?