“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 under my fingertips, ready to spring. Behind him is a rope snaking through the water, and at the end of it, a bunch of dead fish pulled together by the rope through each of their gills.

Either this boy has a death wish or his brain doesn’t have the ability to process fear because he drifts steadily toward us, as if on a current. He could be our age, or very close to it. He wears no snorkel, no breathing equipment, and carries no light. Not in a particular hurry to get to the surface for air, either.

My own breath stalls.

“You have the Gift,” he says, cocking his head toward me. He’s not asking. He’s not even surprised. If anything, he’s pleased.

My legs jerk beneath me as if I’ve forgotten how to swim.

“And you are?” Galen says. Which I’m grateful for, because right at the moment, my mouth won’t form words.

I realize then that I can sense him, too. Not like I sense Galen or Rayna or Toraf. It’s different. It’s more a faint sweeping caress, a phantom touch. Maybe that’s what I thought was lightning. But the truth is, I felt it as soon as we stepped in the water. Before a vein of lightning ever splayed across the sky.

The boy shows us his hands, that they’re empty. “I’m Reed.” A fish swims in front of us, blocking our view. “Oh, come on!” Reed says. “I’ve told you to stay out of people’s faces. Go find someone else to bother, or you’ll be on the end of this rope.” He looks back at me. “You don’t have to be so polite with them, you know. They’re an unruly bunch.”

My heart drops to my feet when the fish scatter. But it’s probably because he startled them. Not because they understand what he’s saying. Right?

All the fish are gone, except for a long pink-bellied one who swims to Reed with familiarity, like a dog would approach its beloved owner. “I call him Vac, short for Vacuum, which is exactly what he does when he gets around minnows. He’s a serial killer, this one.”

Galen is not amused. “What are you?”

I feel it’s a valid question, but Reed thinks otherwise. “Well that’s not good manners, now is it?”

“You’re a Half-Breed,” Galen says. He tucks his arm behind him, a visible show of protection. A shudder runs through me, but I stamp it down before it bubbles to the surface. A Half-Breed? This is not happening.

But … It’s so obvious, isn’t it?

Blond hair.

Pale skin.

Violet eyes.

No fin.

In an underwater cave with no breathing equipment, bonding with fish.

Reed’s smirk reveals a tiny dimple in the corner of his mouth. “And you’re especially observant.”

Nofreakingway. Another Half-Breed. Like me. How? When? What? Holy …

“How did you find us?” Galen barks.

I still can’t figure out the danger here. Reed is not armed. And so far, he hasn’t shown us any aggression. In fact, he seems pretty much amused by us.

“Find you? That implies I was looking, now doesn’t it?” He eases toward us some more, and I feel Galen tense up. “Ironic, but I was trying to get away from strangers.”

I know Galen doesn’t want me to talk to this boy. It’s one of those unspoken things where body language—the fact that he’s still pushing me behind him—is the greatest communicator.

But Galen doesn’t always get what he wants. “Where did you come from?” I say, maneuvering around Galen. I figure that’s a good place to start. He grabs my wrist, so I stop, waiting for Galen to be comfortable that I’ve come out from hiding.