Satisfied, Tyrden stalks toward him, and with one stout tug on the rope, Galen’s left hand falls free. Tyrden offers the phone in his outstretched hand. Now is the time. Galen fights the hesitation, fights the self-preservation screaming at him not to do this. Everything is at stake, he tells himself. This could break your fin, his subconscious screams back.

But he does it anyway.

His transformation to Syrena form knocks Tyrden off his feet.

25

I WATCH as Reed impales the egg yolks on his plate, then whisks them into the grits with his fork. All the while, he holds his coffee cup level, ready to sip at all times. A true breakfast artist.

“We don’t have time to eat.” I move the scrambled eggs around on my plate.

The sheriff and his posse didn’t turn up anything last night with their search. Which means today—and every day until I find him—will be devoted to searching for Galen. No more playtime in Neptune.

Especially now that Reder thinks I’m the Chosen One or whatever. But I don’t mention that to Reed. It’s not that I don’t want to help, that I don’t want Neptune and the underwater kingdoms to come to peaceful terms and coexist. It’s just that I don’t have any pull whatsoever in the territories. The confidence I felt in myself and in Reder’s cause has definitely faded since last night when we discussed everything over a comforting mug of hot chocolate. I mean, as far as usefulness goes, I’m as effective as cutting a rib eye with a plastic spork. What business do I have promising to help with this mess? I don’t even know where to begin.

Maybe I just need more time to think about it. To contemplate what I’ll possibly say to my mother when I call her and tell her what I’ve really been doing. And that I’ve misplaced Galen in the process.

Galen.

Galen will know what to do about this. He might still be angry with me, but this involves the kingdoms. He’ll put off his grudge and handle this with Grom. Undo the damage I’ve done under pressure. Oh, the damage. With all eyes on me, I’d agreed to help Neptune negotiate peaceful terms with the underwater kingdoms by saying nothing at the Huddle. Then again in private, with Reder, I verbally agreed to help. I put it in actual words. I promised.

But Reder put me on the spot. What was I supposed to do? Laugh in his face in front of the entire Huddle? Uh, no. Besides, he’s so irritatingly reasonable.

“We’re wise to eat breakfast,” Reed says, shoveling his concoction into his mouth, all but oblivious to my internal plight. “Number one, we’re going to need our energy if we’re trekking around the woods all day. And two, it’s still too dark out. We’ve got another half hour before the woods will be light enough to see.”

All good points. Still, I’m freaking out here. I need Galen back now more than ever. I’m about to tell Reed to hurry up, when Mr. Kennedy turns around in the booth behind Reed. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re heading out in the woods today, Reed,” he says, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

Reed does a half turn in his seat. A few degrees less and the angle would have been rude. “That’s right, Mr. Kennedy.” What Reed doesn’t say is, What of it? But it’s all over his face. I fidget with my fork. I see that Reed’s patience has an expiration date. I suppose he could be irritated with the fact that we might actually find Galen today and that these could be the last few moments he has me to himself.

“Well,” Mr. Kennedy says, obviously put out by Reed’s small but distinct attitude. “I feel obligated to share with you that I saw the most enormous bear—a black bear I think—but as you know, animals are not my expertise. I was washing up on the north bank of the river, and he was pawing the rocks on the south bank right before the beaver dam. And thank the stars for that! I may not look like much, but back in my day, I was on the varsity track team. I might have had a sporting chance then, but now…” He shudders. When Reed seems unimpressed, Mr. Kennedy continues. I lean in, trying to act intensely interested to make up for Reed’s lack of enthusiasm. “Of course, you were born and raised here. I suppose you would know if black bears pose a danger, but I thought it would be best to share instead of let you both go blindly without knowing.”

Reed grins. “Letting us go blindly without knowing that there are black bears in the woods of Tennessee?” I kick Reed under the table. He ignores me.

Mr. Kennedy purses his lips. “Right. Well. Of course, there are black bears. It’s just … Well, this one seemed rather large.” The embarrassed scientist turns sharply in his seat and resumes whatever it is that he’d neglected on our behalf. Half a second later, he’s standing, his check in his hand. I wait for the cashier at the front to check him out before I turn my ire on Reed.

“He was just trying to help,” I hiss at Reed, who’s smothering a biscuit with white-peppered gravy. “And if the bear’s that big, it wouldn’t hurt anything to avoid the area where he saw it.”

He shrugs. “There are bears all over the place,” he says, voice low. “And I have a feeling Mr. Kennedy doesn’t know what constitutes ‘big.’ But if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll stay away from the south side. It will just cut down on our search area.”

Which isn’t what I want either.

“I’m just saying the search will be complicated enough without running into—”

“Emma, calm down. It’s fine. We won’t go south.” He gulps the last of his coffee. “Are you so antsy because of what you and Dad talked about last night?”