Tristan

His eyes opened just a sliver, just enough to see I was there. His right hand, the one I wasn't holding, lifted. It shook slightly as if he was using all his strength to reach out and touch me. I re- mained frozen as his cold fingers lightly grazed my cheek. The man forced his eyes open wider. They focused on mine as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, like he wasn't sure I was actually there.

Those blue-green eyes left me speechless. Somehow, in the moonlight, they shone brighter than they should. It was as if the magic behind them defined their color, their brightness. They were the color of the ocean, and staring into them felt like home.

I wasn't sure how much time passed as I looked into his eyes and held his hand. Eventually, my left hand came up to meet his right, which still touched my face. His fingers were icy cold, and for some reason I felt obligated to warm them for him.

"What's your name?" I whispered. He spoke in a deep, raspy voice so hoarse I could barely under- stand him. "Tristan."

"Tristan? I'm Bree."

The corners of his lips twitched as he attempted a smile. I was about to ask him if he was hurt, but before I could, his eyes rolled back into his head, and his hands went limp in mine.

Another string of curse words escaped my lips. I couldn't waste any more time. I needed to get help. I sprang to my feet and took off running down the shore. I didn't think I'd ever sprinted so fast in my life. I was in such a hurry that when I flung open the glass door and hurried across the kitchen floor, my wet feet slipped out from under me. My elbow cracked against the tile, but I didn't have time to process the pain or assess the damage. I hopped right back up and ran toward my parents' room.

"Dad!" I heaved in his doorway.

No response.

It took three wide steps to make it to his bedside, where I shook him awake. "Dad!"

He blinked a few times and gazed up at me in confusion.

"I need your help. Now." Noticing my urgency, he sprung up in bed, scooped up his phone from his nightstand, and followed after me. He didn't ask any questions. He just raced barefoot out the door with me. I attempted to fill him in as we hurried back down the shore, but I doubted I was making any sense. I managed to get in a few frag-ments of the story. "Couldn't sleep. Went for a walk. Merman.

Dad, they're real! Needs help. Didn't know what else to do. The council has to know about this." I didn't slow as I approached Tristan. I only stopped when I slid onto my knees next to him, a maneuver any pro baseball player would be proud of. He remained unresponsive, and that made my already racing pulse speed up. Was I too late?

"Tristan." I shook his shoulders. "Tristan, I brought help." My voice cracked out of desperation. I jumped when my father placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Bree," my dad said gently. "It's going to be okay." The sound of my father's voice eased my anxiety just enough that I followed the guide of his hands on my shoulders and inched away from Tristan. My father took my spot in the sand next to him to inspect for injuries.

"Dad, is he going to be okay?"

After confirming that Tristan was still breathing, my father turned to me. "Bree, I appreciate you bringing this to my atten- tion, but this is no longer a concern of yours. I want you to go home and forget this ever happened. Don't tell anyone about this, okay? Not even your mother." "But Dad-"I started.

"He's going to be okay," he promised, resting a hand on my shoulder for reassurance. I trusted my father wholeheartedly. So when he promised that Tristan would be all right, I believed him. But as I walked away and headed for home as he instructed, his words echoed in my mind. Don't tell anyone about this, okay? Not even your mother. Those didn't sound like promising words. They sounded like a warning.

My father's voice grew distant, carried away by the light breeze. When I glanced back at him, I could just barely make out his out- line illuminated by the moonlight. He held his phone to his face and talked into it. I couldn't make out his words, but there was no way in hell I was going to walk away from this.

I snuck behind a rock and watched. I watched as Carson Ray, head of the city council, parked his black sedan next to the beach. I watched as he crossed the sand and knelt next to Tristan and ex- changed words with my father, though I couldn't hear what he said. I watched as another vehicle-a van-drove up a few minutes later. I watched as two other men stepped out of it and met my fa- ther and Carson next to Tristan. I watched as all four of them hoisted Tristan up and placed him in the back of the dark van. And then I watched my father slide into the passenger seat of Carson's vehicle, in nothing but his pajamas, and I watched them drive away, disappearing into the night. I had no choice but to head home. If I wasn't home by the time my father arrived, I'd be entering deep waters. Somehow, I knew I was already in deep. My father wasn't shocked when he saw Tristan lying there in the sand. Carson and the two men didn't seem surprised, either. It was like they had a system for this sort of thing, like they knew all along that our ancestors were still out there. And this whole time they'd been lying to us about it.

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