Page 9

Sam stared after Eric long after he’d gone. His tone, his frown, and his tensed shoulders stayed stuck in Sam’s head as all their interactions ran through his mind until he dug out his phone and found Eric’s contact. He tapped speech-to-text and spoke into the mic.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you, Eric. If you want to see Dad, it’s okay. I just want to be there when you do. See you Saturday.” Sam carefully read through the text and hit send, then buried the phone deep into his pocket and strode toward his boat.

With its towering mainsail, Fionn’s yacht stood out like a sore thumb along the dock amongst the other small fishing boats. Sam didn’t know why Fionn docked at the far end of the pier when there was room closer to the boat club, with all its facilities. Unlike all the other rich kids in the area, Fionn would go sailing whether the sun was visible or not. So long as the winds weren’t too strong, even if it was pelting down enough rain and hail to leave you bruised and shivering, Fionn would be out riding the waves. It was one of the reasons Connor used to go out on the yacht with him; Connor wouldn’t care if a hurricane was bearing down on him. He’d be out on the ocean as if he was home.

Sam didn’t fancy himself with the same devotion, but the boat was his most comfortable spot in the world. He could relax on it in a way he couldn’t anywhere else. That didn’t mean he would boat out in a storm, and that didn’t mean he wanted to pull pots in the pouring rain either. Sam cast a glance at the sky as he climbed aboard. Clouds darkened the eastern sky over the land, but they looked neither heavy nor menacing, matching the forecast of light rain.

Even speeding through the pots, it was fully dark by the time Sam got to studying. He set up outside, willing to remain out in the fresh air for as long as the rain held off. He focused on his textbook, bending awkwardly over the tiny stupid text, and squinted at the description beneath a row of columns. The lantern lit the page in a pale yellow light, just bright enough for him to make out the black-ink words. He was supposed to be…Sam leaned back and dragged his notebook over to himself. What was he doing again?

A low-pitched growl rumbled through the air at Sam’s left. “In a minute,” Sam said. He’d probably said that about a hundred times now. Devil had found Sam immediately, before he’d gotten to the first pot, and had quickly made himself a distracting presence. He didn’t take Sam telling him he had to do work before he could draw him particularly well.

Sam’s head ached as he focused on his own handwriting. He’d written big and simple: Ionic vs. Doric.

“Ah.” Sam swapped back to the textbook and took up his pen, carefully transcribing the defining features of the Ionic columns before flipping through the pages to find where the Doric features were described. If only he could draw the differences for his assignment, he’d ace the midterm.

The boat dipped sideways. Sam looked up in surprise to see Devil pulling himself out of the water and onto the railing. His beautiful features were twisted into a furious scowl.

“I said to wait.” He frowned at the impatient creature. Where had all the humming and pleased rumblings from yesterday disappeared to? “I told you I would do one drawing after nine, and until then, you have to wait patiently. Alright? I have these assignments due, and you distracting me isn’t helping. I find it hard enough to focus, alright?” Sam’s voice bled with frustration. And he knew he was being unfair because it wasn’t that Devil was frustrating him, the schoolwork was.

“I’ll set an alarm for nine.” Sam dug his phone out of his pocket. “And when it goes off, I’ll take a short break. But only one drawing tonight. I really have to get this done.” Sam tapped the alarm icon. He set it to nine. “See? It’ll go off in twenty-three hours and…” Sam blinked. “Twenty-seven minutes.”

Devil growled.

“Oh.” Sam looked down at his notebook, and a knot turned his stomach into a tight ball. There were hardly any notes, certainly not enough to reflect the amount of time he’d been sitting here researching. He still had to put together the essay. Type it up. Pray that spellcheck caught all of his mistakes and get it submitted.

Thank God he got the extension. Sam rubbed a hand through his hair, tugging harshly at the strands.

Pale fingers pinched the corner of Sam’s textbook.

“It’s not any paintings,” Sam said. “It’s college work – hey!”

Devil snatched the textbook, ripping it away from the desk, sending all the other books tumbling to the deck. Pens and pencils rolled out everywhere, and the cup that had been holding them bounced against the decking.

“Stop making a mess.” Sam reached for the textbook.

Devil’s top lip curled back, showing off sharp canines, and his gills flared out wide as he tossed the book over his shoulder. Sam’s heart leapt.

“No!” Sam lunged, falling against Devil as he desperately reached through the air. Devil chirped in surprise, hands connecting with Sam’s sides as they collided. Sam’s fingers brushed the pages. His thigh struck the wooden railing, and his momentum carried him off his feet, knocking Devil off the railing and tumbling right after him.

Sam scraped against the side of the boat, face striking the ocean first, then legs, then everything was confusing as he plunged underwater upside down. Up. Swim – ugh – Sam’s head and shoulder hit the side of the boat as he scraped against it, trying to turn, and a strong current dragged him hard against the hull.

Proximity to the hull turned his attempt to swim into inefficient blundering.

His arms were grabbed, and Sam was pulled through the water, away from the boat. Sam breached the surface of the water with a cough and then sharp breaths as his lungs spasmed in shock at being plunged suddenly into the ocean. Devil, who’d just pulled him to the surface, held his waist, keeping his face safely above the water line. Sam spared the merman one look – one glimpse of sullen unhappiness – and then twisted away.

Sam caught his breath and swam to his boat. Wet clothes dragged him downwards with each stroke, and he shivered in relief as he caught the side railing. With considerably less grace than Devil always displayed, he hauled himself out of the water and back to safety.

Sam had been coming out on the water since he was a kid. He’d been doing it alone for years, and never, not once, had he even come close to going overboard. His dad always taught him to be safe; and even if he hadn’t, caution had always been a part of Sam’s nature. He did things right, even if it took longer, made it all harder. Sam didn’t cut corners.

Right. Not cutting corners. What was the procedure for someone who fell overboard?

Sam groaned as he stood, his left leg trembling as he put weight on it. That damned hip he’d hurt when he fell the other day made itself known. He limped to the cabin and stripped. He heard Devil pull himself onto the railing and felt the boat dip down under his weight. Devil pulled him to the surface, sure, but he was also the reason Sam had fallen in.

Sam shivered as he kicked his wet clothes into the corner. He wrapped himself in his towel and opened the watertight tub tucked beneath his table, where he always kept extra clothes. He pulled everything on, marvelling to himself how Connor swam every damn day in deep waters with Adonis.

Sam’s hip ached in protest as he lifted his legs to slip into the dry trousers, and there was a distinct ting down his shoulder when he contracted the muscle pulling on the shirt. The moment he had the dry clothes on, the shivering eased, and once he’d pulled out the thick sweater, his last layer, his body temperature stabilised.

Sam scooped up his wet clothes, hesitating as he realised he hadn’t done things right. Life jacket. Its dull yellow drew his eye to the corner of his cabin. Only the smallest patch of it was visible beneath the tarp Sam had stuffed over it. He bit his cheek, internally chastising himself. When was the last time he’d worn that life jacket? Months ago . Because why would he bother? Devil was always around, so it wasn’t like Sam needed it. At least he hadn’t thought so. He hadn’t been doing things right at all.

Towelling his hair, Sam stepped outside the cabin. Devil was perched on the rail, a soggy mess of ruined textbook in his hands. He was blowing on the wet pages but quickly stopped when he noticed Sam. His gaze darted up and down Sam’s body before he met his eyes, clearly apprehensive.

Sam took in a calming breath. Released it. Approached. “It’s ruined?” Sam asked mildly. Picking a fight with a merman was definitely something Sam would list under: to be avoided. Devil let Sam take the book from him, but he already knew there was no salvaging it. The ink had bled into the white pages, and they were sticking together in clumps. Damn. At least it was one he owned and not one that he’d checked out from the library.

The wind picked up as he brought it into the cabin and stuffed tissue paper into the clumps he could separate. The corners began tearing despite Sam being careful, and he gave up trying to get tissue between all the pages. He would check on it later and hope the parts he needed dried legible. A light sprinkle wet the deck as he packed up the rest of his things, glad to see that the ‘Dad’ cup hadn’t broken when it fell. He remembered his dad being fond of it and wouldn’t want to disappoint him by breaking it. Not that Oisín would ever be on the boat to see it again.

Devil silently watched him. Was he sorry? He at least looked it. Sam wasn’t even mad. Just tired. He sat on the chest next to the cabin, not bothered by the sprinkle as he leaned his head back to rest on the cabin wall and think.

He had already re-positioned and re-baited the pots. He had made a start on the essays he had due. His dad had dinner and breakfast ready for him in the fridge, so he was sorted for the night. Sam should go home anyway, make sure that he was okay. But the thought came and went, pressing on his conscience like a sore bruise. He wouldn’t have prepared him breakfast ahead of time if he hadn’t already planned to spend the night away from the house.

A splash drew Sam’s attention. He opened his eyes – realised that he’d shut them without meaning to – and the golden sun sitting on his railing immediately caught his eye. Devil hadn’t moved an inch, and his golden eyes were fixed on Sam when he looked over.

“Are you really going to pester me for a drawing after that?” Sam asked.

Devil blinked. There was another splash. A yelp. A cackle. Sam leaned forward, turning in the opposite direction from Devil and saw his two friends cutting through the water toward them with terrifying speed. Bee’s copper scales caught and reflected the yellow-lantern light, and next to him, Dew’s paler blue tail stood out from the dark ocean so bright it almost seemed to glow from within. Behind them was Connor’s yacht on a lazy collision course with Sam’s boat. Sam eyed the yacht but saw the nose beginning to turn away.

A flash of iridescence came from behind the two smaller mermen as Adonis’s tail briefly breached the water line. Sam heard a laugh from one of the mermen swimming away at full speed; copper-tailed Bee glanced back at Adonis just before he dove beneath the water and swam under Sam’s hull. They disappeared as black shadows, and then Adonis dove too, a much bigger shadow. The boat rocked as they sped by, and Sam looked to see Devil had raised his finned tip from the water as they passed.

Sam watched until they were out of sight before he double-checked everything was secure. He debated, briefly, turning everyone down. Saying he needed to pull pots or work on assignments. He technically could. The one soaked book wasn’t the only one he had. He could start the other one…but he didn’t want to. He would do it later.