Oceanborn

Oceanborn

By Bethany Wilkins

Copyright 2013 Bethany Wilkins

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion of it.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either solely the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Any material in connection with mythological characters, settings or events has been borrowed and interpreted to serve the plot of this story only.

To the loving memory of my father Edgar Wells, Jr. Thank you for always believing in me, Pappy.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Prologue

Poseidon’s Bay

Sunday

January 01, 2012

Michael Brice was drunk.

This was not an unusual occurrence since he was a twenty-two year old college student celebrating the New Year at his parents’ beach house in the small seaside town of Poseidon’s Bay. True, the town was practically on ice this time of year, not being located somewhere actually warm, but in the Mid-Atlantic, almost empty except for the locals and a few college kids whose parents owned summer homes here. Still, it was okay to hang out with three of his best buddies, cruising the bars looking for lonely chicks who wanted to be kissed at midnight. There weren’t many places open in Poseidon’s Bay this time of the year, but the boys had found a bar on the boardwalk – the oddly named Nausicaa –that Michael knew about from his summer weekends here. Someone had tried to explain the name to him once; it had to do with some princess in Greek mythology or something who had rescued a shipwrecked Odysseus, the protagonist of The Odyssey. There was a painting behind the bar depicting a scene on the beach with dancing maidens and a man dressed in leaves watching them. Michael had no clue what that had to do with Poseidon’s Bay, not that he cared.

He, Matt, Sean, and Derek had started celebrating with three girls whose names the boys could barely remember (Amanda, Ashley, Emily… whatever), and they were feeling no pain when Paolo Seward walked into the bar just before midnight. Everyone in Poseidon’s Bay seemed to know the grizzled older man who owned a shop just down the boards. He was dressed in baggy cargo pants, a faded Poseidon’s Bay sweatshirt, Sanuk Vagabonds, and no socks. He had greeted the locals by name, including Michael, who was a bit surprised and ridiculously pleased that the man remembered him from his summer stays.

You gents and ladies best be careful, Paolo cautioned as he sat at the bar with similarly weathered Poseidon’s Bay denizens and was served one of the local beers by Artie Justis the bartender. Tides are a bit strong tonight.

Like we’d go swimming in winter, Sean had guffawed, quaffing down the rest of his Keystone Light, and motioned to the cute waitress for another.

Just stay away from the water, Paolo reiterated. His eyes lingered on Michael for an uncomfortable few seconds, and then he proceeded to ignore them as he spoke quietly with the other old men.

Which was why a few hours later, Michael was amazed to find that he was standing in front of the Old Pier shaking with cold. Why was he here when everyone else in Poseidon’s Bay had gone to bed already even if it was New Year’s Day? The bars had closed down over an hour ago, and St. Erasmus Episcopal Church on Fourth Street, which he had to have passed on his way here, was dark after their midnight service. The only sources of illumination were the street lights on the boards and the piers (the New Pier was a few blocks north of the Old Pier), and the half moon that played peek-a-boo with the ragged clouds overhead.

Michael shivered, berating himself for standing out here like a total chowderhead when he heard the singing.

Come to me. In my arms you shall sleep forever and ever.

The voice shot through him, chasing away all thoughts but one: she was waiting for him. The girl who had kissed him when he and his bros had left the Nausicaa, the girl with long black hair and the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. She had appeared out of the darkness, walking along the boards in a tight, short shimmering dress, gazing intently at him. She had kissed him deeply, sending a jolt of excitement through him despite his slightly mind-befuddling drunkenness.

Come to me, she had whispered, her lips just brushing his ear as he heard Matt, Sean, and Derek hooting drunken encouragement. Come to me when I call.

Even if Michael was afflicted by the remnants of a night spent imbibing too many beers and shots, he should have known that going into the Atlantic in January was insane; no one could be that drunk. The water was frigid, washing over his feet as he walked slowly into the tunnel of darkness beneath the Old Pier. He knew the legends surrounding this piece of junk, the deaths associated with it, the supposed curse of the Monster-Lady, and some part of him was screaming for him to turn around and run back to his parents’ house as fast as he could, but her voice lured him on. That was all that mattered.

She was all that mattered.

Come to me. In my arms you shall sleep forever and ever.

Blue light flared in the darkness as she rose from the ocean, salt water like delicate rivulets of silver trickling down her skin. She was so beautiful; her naked body was glowing with pale gentle light (was it – what was the word? Bioluminescence?), and she smiled at him, holding out one hand. In her palm was a glowing blue sphere.

Michael Brice smiled back, and walked into the ocean to join her.

Chapter 1

Tuesday

January 03, 2012

Alannis: The Boy Who Walked Out of the Sea

It was impossible not to notice him, seated at a desk near the front of Mr. Hockstetter’s classroom. He was trying hard not to look at the people as they came in, so he hunched over an open black-and-white composition book, yellow Number 2 pencil moving fluidly over the paper, doodling. Being a new student always draws attention whether it was desired or not, but he was gorgeous, and people would be aware of him anywhere and stare.

Wow, Catlin breathed; her blue-gray eyes widening as she smiled back at Joss and me. "He’s really pretty. I wonder who he is."

Anne-Marie the Volleyball Queen choked back a laugh and rolled her brown eyes, which took note of the new boy before she tossed her dirty blonde braid over her shoulder. She grabbed Caitlin’s arm and propelled her toward their seats in the third row before Cait could ask him.

I wished my desk was closer to his as I sat down in my seat by the far wall in the second row next to the Shakespeare poster. It did afford a good view of his perfect profile though. I tried to be surreptitious about staring at him – he was already uncomfortable enough with all the attention directed at him, the subdued but not entirely subtle whispers, staring eyes, and pointing fingers. He nibbled adorably at his lower lip from time to time, and Joss was grinning at me from across the room (Mr. H had separated us earlier in the year for being disruptive), twirling one strand of her thick dark hair. Beneath her fringe, Joss’ eyes were bright with challenge. She had a boyfriend already and I didn’t, but I was not ready for a new boyfriend, not since Austin had utterly shattered my confidence and self-esteem last year.

When he had broken up with me (a mere freshman, who had been thrilled that someone I’d had a crush on since fifth grade had paid attention to me), Austin had another girl at his side already: pretty, popular, cheerleader, and Poseidon’s Bay society sweetheart Amber Whitaker with her long honey blonde hair, sea green eyes, and perfect body. It was hard to believe that Amber and I had been friends in elementary school. Austin’s arm had been around her waist; her hand tucked in the back pocket of his jeans.

I’ve outgrown you, Alannis, he had said with that grin that I had once loved. You’re still just a kid, and Amber is…. His eyes flicked over her. Definitely not.

Amber was the same age as I was, so I had been momentarily baffled by this statement until Joss had set me straight.

I wouldn’t stand a chance with this new guy though – I was too ordinary and he was definitely not. Girls like Amber or Cyndi Carson and their ilk with their fake-and-bake tans, model slim bodies, and super trendy hair and perfect makeup on their perfect faces would be all over him, and they would triumph, not me. I wasn’t the kind of girl who ever won that sort of competition. I sighed, feeling vaguely depressed, but I tried to study him without being too obvious about it. Looking was okay, wasn’t it?

His wavy hair was more golden than Caitlin’s beige blonde; it brushed over the shoulders of his turquoise, sapphire, and sage green sweater, swinging forward to partially hide his face. He had a great tan for January, and his hair had shimmering highlights that looked like the sun had put them there and not a hairdresser. I wondered where he had lived before, somewhere warm, or if his family had vacationed in Florida or maybe in the Caribbean over Christmas break. My family had vacationed nowhere, so I was winter pale and pasty. Yet another point in my favor…. Not.

How did someone like him end up in Poseidon’s Bay?

Mr. Hockstetter entered the room, telling us to settle down, that we were in for the long haul; there were not many breaks between Christmas and summer.

I was ready for summer now, but I didn’t have time to daydream about the warm sun on my skin or walks on the beach, hanging out with my friends on the boardwalk, playing beach volleyball, bodyboarding and swimming, eating fries, caramel popcorn, and funnel cake…. All the things that made life worth living.

But it was only January, and the weather was cold and wet; most of the boardwalk’s attractions were boarded up until April, which seemed ages from now.

Ugh.

Welcome back, Mr. H greeted now that we were seated and facing the blackboard. He was one of the few teachers that actually wrote on the blackboard and made us copy it into our notebooks. Totally archaic, but Poseidon’s Bay High was totally archaic, it had been built in the 1930’s, after all - no new school with smartboards and computer terminals for us yet. Aaron Thackerley had been very unhappy when Mr. Hockstetter told him to put his laptop away and write – actually write with a pen on a piece of paper – what had been written on the board with a piece of white chalk.

Mr. Hockstetter’s eyes were flitting over the class now as he took mental attendance. I hope you enjoyed your time off because, he waggled his sculpted black brows, this is when the fun really begins.

Everyone groaned, knowing what was coming now this last semester of the year. Why did teachers always feel the need to remind us of what we already knew? Mr. H began to tell about the projects that would need to be completed by the year’s end, what books we would read, the assessment tests that comprised a good percentage of our grade, and the end of the year achievement tests that made the school look good – or bad – blah, blah, blah. We knew the routine, which would be repeated endlessly in every class today. Yes, the fun was really going to begin. Hooray.

Before we get started, I would like to introduce our newest student.

At last, something we wanted to hear.

The beautiful golden boy slowly put down his pencil and closed the comp book as Mr. Hockstetter studied the paper from the office. I noticed our ‘newest student’ had nice hands with long, slender fingers, which clenched slightly, giving away his nervousness.

This is Kaiea Meris. He moved here from…? Mr. H cocked one brow in query.

Nai’a Island, Kaiea Meris said quietly, pronouncing the first word Nah–ee-ah. It almost rhymed with his first name.

Where’s that? Jesse Prichard asked with a grin, launching a spitball at Shaun Jones. I’ve never heard of it.

I haven’t heard of it either, Mr. Prichard. Why don’t you stand up, Mr. Meris, and tell us a little about yourself and Nai’a Island.

There are some people who enjoy speaking in front of strangers; it comes naturally to them, and they would gladly tell you everything about themselves, including things you really, really did not want to know. That was clearly not the case as Kaiea Meris rose from his seat and slowly turned to face the other students. I felt a stab of sympathy for him, and tried to smile encouragingly even if I was not certain that he would really look at any of us. If it was me, I would have looked out the window at the tall oak trees that lined the walk leading up to the front of the school or at the Mark Twain quote painted over the windows: Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear.

Kaiea Meris’ eyes were the most incredible blue I have ever seen, even more stunning than Caitlin’s. His eyebrows, darker than his hair, shot down once more in a nervous frown, and when he bit his lower lip again…. Well, his lips were utterly sexy in that pouty male model way, lush and kissable…. I really needed to get a grip or I would be throwing myself at him, or drooling all over my sweater – or his if he let me get close enough.

He quickly scanned the classroom. He did smile, a little, at Ryan, so I assumed they knew each other, but then his eyes just touched mine for a mere heartbeat of time, and his gaze turned quizzical. And, miracle of miracles, he smiled tentatively at me. It was then that I realized with a start that I had seen him before.

It had been during Christmas break after my cousin Jen and her husband Eric had gone back home across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, deciding not to stay for New Year’s since Jack, their five-year-old, had developed a cold. Joss, Anne-Marie, Cait and I had spent the night at their beach house, cleaning, washing sheets, and putting away the Christmas things since they would not be visiting much until the weather was warmer.

It had been clear and cold that day – it seldom snowed in Poseidon’s Bay with the Atlantic on one side and the bay on the other, so there were hardly any white Christmases. I had awakened earlier than I usually did and, being unable to go back to sleep, I had wandered out onto the third floor balcony to look at the ocean.

I was amazed to see someone walk out of the Atlantic in late December, the rising sun bathing him in a soft light. Even more amazing, he had been dressed only in swim trunks. This time of year, the diehard surfers were the only people in the water, and they all wore full-body wetsuits. People did take the plunge during the winter months in bathing suits for charities or hospital fundraisers, but this boy was alone; no one to encourage him in his insanity. He did not hurry up the beach to throw a towel around himself or put on sweat clothes as I had expected. He stood quite still, his eyes turned to the Old Pier.

This guy had not seemed affected by the frigid December water at all. He had tossed his golden hair back from his face, and turned to watch the ocean, his arms thrown wide as if in an embrace, face tilted to the sky. When he had walked back up the beach a few minutes later, angling south along the boardwalk and studying the row of houses and businesses, I had noticed a spark of blue fire on his bare chest and wondered what it was. I snuck back inside, being quite cowardly at times, and tried to watch him through the vertical blinds without being observed.

He had looked like some young sea god glowing faintly in the dawn’s soft light, a merman on land, too beautiful to be real. Who else would brave the Atlantic in December in Poseidon’s Bay dressed in nothing but a pair of swim trunks? Where had he come from? Had he seen me gawking at him like an idiot?

Who was he?

It had been this boy standing so innocently in my English class like a normal human being dressed in worn jeans, the tail of a turquoise tee shirt was just visible under his sweater, and faded checkerboard Vans – he wore no socks. A turquoise sailor’s knot bracelet showed on his left wrist where he had shoved his sleeves up, and I could see the glimmer of a silver chain around his neck.

Who was he?

My name is Kaiea Meris, he began now. His hands were in his jean’s pockets as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, and his eyes were now on the back wall (he did know that trick). My family and I moved here from Nai’a Island, which is just east of the Bahamas. It is…um, very small – maybe one hundred people live there. He shrugged; a tense lifting of his perfect shoulders, and another nibble on his lower lip. My father is Atl Meris; he’s an artist, a painter. He was born here… and…. He shrugged again, looking lost and uncomfortable, not quite knowing what to say, no doubt disconcerted by the knowledge that everyone was staring at him. He was commissioned to do a mural at the Henley Marine Museum last year, and….

My mom works there, Ana Santiago volunteered, cheerily raising her hand for attention, and smiling boldly at Kaiea. At the Henley. She said they felt so honored to get Atl Meris to come do the mural. Your dad’s work is so cool.

I could barely keep from rolling my eyes. Anabella Santiago had beaten Mikayla Brody at the flirting game! That was a definite first.

Ana tossed glossy dark hair back, and her bright brown eyes were focused on my sea god. She hadn’t even waited for him to become acclimated before making her play. I had seen him first though– even if he didn’t know that.

Why couldn’t I be more like her?

A blush painted Kaiea’s cheeks, and some of the other girls twittered happily. There is something so sweet and alluring about a shy boy, and I knew before the day was over nearly every girl and a few boys would make certain he knew they were available, even if some of them weren’t. Mikayla was already looking predatory and possessive, and she would probably attack him on the way out of class – or if Mr. H turned his back for three seconds. I felt a bit sorry for Kaiea Meris, even as I turned in my seat to look at Joss to make certain she had noticed how utterly adorable he was.

Are you an illegal or something? Aaron asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Weren’t you listening? Ana snapped. His father was born here. That makes him a citizen. Right, Mr. H?

You’re right, Miss Santiago, Mr. Hockstetter drawled with a laugh before things deteriorated completely in a rush of female hormones and male posturing. Thank you, Mr. Meris, and welcome to Poseidon’s Bay. I am certain there will be no shortage of volunteers willing to show you around if you need them to. You may take your seat now because it’s time to get to work, and I know this is a cliché, perhaps The Greatest Cliché…. He set a pile of battered paperback books on the edge of his desk. "We are going to read Romeo and Juliet since it seems to have been neglected so far. No high school student’s education is complete without it. And, he added with a twinkle in his dark eyes, Muse will be performing it in the spring."

That was the actual reason for the sudden realization of the gap in our high school education. Mr. Hockstetter and Mrs. Justis were in charge of Muse, the drama club, and they were always on the lookout for new recruits – or at least warm bodies to