The days and nights passed as they always had, but Thetus cursed them for their plodding slowness now. He desperately kept himself busy with several self-appointed tasks: fostering an octopus, rereading the Formulae tablets he’d brought with him, cultivating several flowering beds of dulse and of course searching for pearls.

 Being a conscientious sort, Thetus ate the oysters he pried open rather than waste them, and fed bits to the octopus, which he had named Monterey Jack. He had taken to carting the small creature around in an old Triton Trumpet shell slung across his back. It was small comfort to have him around, and Thetus played with the little cephalopod often, letting the baby playfully climb around his fingers and wrists.

Thetus tried not to brood, but it was hard. He’d gotten used to talking; to sharing on not only a verbal level but an intellectual one too. Sara had eased a loneliness inside.  The occasional message bottles from his herd had only the briefest of news in them: births, deaths, what route the herd was taking for the season, all chipped on various shells he was required to break after reading them. It took fortitude to keep hopeful, and nearly a week later he hit upon an idea of how to reach Sara.

The Wave Born had influence on other creatures; a Mesmer of sorts that could be strengthened with practice. Thetus used it lightly on Monterey Jack and that was why the baby octopus was friendlier and bolder than most of his species. Thetus could direct various fish if so moved, and build a bond with anything that had enough of a mind to be swayed. It was with this thought that he looked up to the skies for help.

The tern was young, and unmated; it circled Thetus for a long time before finally dropping lower and coming to land on the merman’s chest. For a few days Thetus did nothing deliberate; merely let the bird get acclimated to his proximity. He left it little bits of fish and shellfish; the bird responded well, coming back several times a day and relaxing on him.

Carefully Thetus began concentrating, pushing an imprint of his Link to Sara onto the malleable mind of the little bird. Soon the tern itself seemed to feel the connection, and cooed when Thetus brought her image to mind. It took nearly a week of concentration, but by the time the bird—whom Thetus had named Brie—was ready, so was the gift.

Thetus gave it to the bird on early Friday, watching the tern grasp the shell in one strong, webbed claw. Rising, Brie circled once to get his bearings, then flew east, towards the land, wings beating steadily against the offshore breeze. Thetus watched him go, and kept his eyes on the horizon long after the little bird had vanished from sight. The rest of the day was a restless one of waiting, the slow passage of time not helped by a steady drizzle. Thetus tried to stay hopeful but was all too aware of all the things that could go wrong. The tern was young and fast, but he’d be no match for a hawk, or a cat or any number of predators . . .

The next morning Thetus rose to the surface amid fog, and felt a hard pang of despair. He closed his eyes and stretched out on his back, trying one last time to sense the mind of Brie when a low cry sounded out. Dropping from the sky came the bedraggled form of the tern and he skidded across Thetus’s chest in a very undignified landing. Smiling, Thetus caught him and gave the little bird a soothing stroke along the back of his head. “The rover returns . . . did you find her?”

The tern blinked his black little watermelon seed eyes and let go of the Popsicle stick he was carrying.

It was only by sheer luck that Sara had been in the yard. She was alone on the jungle gym, stretched out on the plastic roof where Mrs. Gallini could see her, a copy of And Then There Were None in her hands.

It wasn’t too bad—the Gallinis had two younger daughters, both of whom were slightly fascinated by and scared of her. Sara was polite and helped with the housework; she didn’t make a fuss over anything and generally kept to herself.

They all got along.

The Gallinis lived inland, over the first rise of hills from the bay, in a farmhouse along Pumphouse Road, only six miles from the Inn. Sara could still smell the salt water most mornings. Mrs. Gallini was driving her to school, but it was harder now—the stares and sudden silences made it difficult to concentrate on classes, and there was talk about transferring.

Sara cared only about how far a change like that might move her away from the water. She was still trying to figure out how to ask the Gallinis into taking her to the beach when she noticed a bird in the yard, hopping. For a moment, she wondered if it was wounded, but it lacked the fluttering and flailing she’d seen with other helpless creatures. Sara sat up slowly, trying not to frighten it off, and the longer she looked at it, the odder she felt. It was hopping . . .  towards . . . her. Sara slid off the jungle gym and gently lowered herself into the grass of the back yard, watching.

Waiting.

After a while, the little bird approached closely enough for Sara to see that it was clutching something in one curled foot. A quicksilver pulse of anticipation shot through her, an unreasonable sensation of hope. It was outrageous and unqualified, but she was just desperate enough to indulge herself in the tiniest, wildest hope for this moment.

The bird moved closer, cautious but determined, and Sara held her breath, not daring to move. With a little flutter of courage, the bird came to a decision and made three quick hops, landing near Sara’s knee and dropping whatever it had been holding. With a cock of his head, he eyed her brightly.

Sara looked down.

Lying in the grass was a small razor clam shell. If she touched her thumb and forefinger, the shell would have fit snugly into the ‘ok’ sign formed by her hand. Sara picked it up and blinked, realizing there was something etched onto it, chipped into the old white and burnt orange surface of the shell.

The shape was crude but recognizable; two rounded halves on the top, coming together at the bottom in a point.

 And within the heart, the letter ‘T.’

Sara gripped the shell tightly in one hand as tears flooded her eyes. She felt quick shudders wrack her shoulders as the longing and relief and delight surged through her in a tide of emotions, swelling high making her pulse loud and her breathing fast. Blinking hard and wiping her eyes, she looked again, to be sure.

To be certain.

Still there, the little design carefully cut into the shell, unmistakably a heart.

Thetus! she thought with another rush of sweet pain. Near her, the bird fluttered his wings, looking almost . . . smug. Sara  studied him, noting his watchful attitude and focus.

She shifted, and fished in her pocket, thinking hard. To send something back—maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t, but the point was to try. It couldn’t be anything paper . . .  Carefully she pulled out a pen and eyed her Agatha Christie novel in frustration. Then, on the grass next to it she saw the popsicle stick. One of the Gallini girls must have left it, but Sara picked it up and realized it was perfect for her need right now. Very slowly, she wrote on one side: amor vincit omnia, hoping that Thetus would take comfort in that.

On the other side, she added, Miss you. Trying to get to the beach soon. S.

With care, Sara gently set the stick on the grass and looked at the bird. The bird looked back at her and then down at the stick. It pecked it once, as if to test how real it was, then straddled it for a moment. Sara held out her hand and the bird trustingly gave a tiny peck against her fingertips, then rose up, popsicle stick in his webbed claws. A quick flutter of wings and the tern was airborne again, rising into the low fog of the day.

Sara watched him go and hugged herself.

The sessions with the social worker were a joke, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Sara had an idea how to work  the system, she’d have ducked out long before this. Still, the Gallinis gave a good report on her, and although her brother seemed to have disappeared, the cogs of life turned.

The Gallinis took her to the beach once a week, usually on Sunday. The younger girls, Michelle and Mindy loved to play in the sand, and Mrs. Gallini brought her tote bag full of romance novels as well as a picnic lunch. Sometimes Mr. Gallini came too; a pale quiet guy who read Scientific American and stayed under the beach umbrella so his pale legs didn’t burn. Sara always took a walk down the beach by herself, and told Mrs. Gallini that she liked to sit on the big rocks and think for a while.

Mrs. Gallini said she understood.

The first time, Thetus was there almost before she finished saying his name, and the sight of him: thinner, but with the same honest blue eyes and curly beard sent a rush of comfort through her. She waded in and hugged him, glad to be hidden among the craggy boulders at the far edge of the beach.

“God I miss you—“ she blurted, squeezing tightly. He crushed her to him, then pulled back, contrite at getting the front of her tee-shirt wet. Sara waved it off with a smile. “Beach—I’m expected to get splashed, remember?”

“True—tell me all that has happened to you, Land Girl; I miss the sound of your voice very much,” Thetus murmured, motioning for her to sit on a rock. Sara did, gingerly and wrapped her arms around her knees.

She started at the beginning, and Thetus let her talk, asking a quiet question here and there, listening carefully. When Sara trailed off, feeling frustrated and troubled, Thetus gently reached up and patted her foot. They let the silence grow comfortable between them for a while, and gradually Sara spoke again. “So it’s going okay . . . but I don’t fit in. The Gallinis are nice and all, but I’m not really a part of their family group. I’m . . .

“ . . . a fish out of water?” Thetus commented, earning himself an affection-tinged glare of exasperation.

“I suppose it fits, yeah. Not here nor there---“ she mock-complained, “Although it could be worse I guess.”

“Much,” Thetus told her gently. He sighed and lifted the flukes of his tail, waving them gently against the breeze. Sara watched, admiring the way the sunlight gleamed off the thinnest lacy edges of the membranes. Noting her stare, Thetus flicked a little water at her, and she spluttered.

“Hey!”

“Come swim with me—“ he challenged her reaching for her hand. Sara hesitated, then looked to see if the Gallinis were still up the beach. Then she carefully waded in, trying not to let the surge of the water knock her off balance. Thetus reached for her hand. “Let me—“ he assured her.

Carefully he guided her in, and oddly enough the water wasn’t cold. Sara gripped his fingers, pleased. “Nice—I didn’t think it was this warm.”

“It’s not—touch Links us, and gives you my . . .  insulation,” he explained quietly. “I cannot explain it much more than that, but for the moment, your temperature is my temperature.”

“I could have used that a few years ago,” Sara complained, but flexed a little in the water, feeling marvelously buoyant. “So this is how you live all the time, huh?”

“Not above water,” Thetus reminded her. “I have but three hours before my gills dry out fully and my lungs fail.”  

Sara glanced at the little discreet slits behind his ears and nodded, “Yeah, I forgot. Still—we managed to get in a lot of talking for the time.”

Thetus agreed and towed her out a little deeper, with the rocks still blocking the view of them from the beach. The surf was rougher here, but Sara rode the waves easily with her hand in his. She noticed the strap along his shoulder. “Hey, what’s that?”

“Ah, I forgot—you haven’t seen my foundling,” Thetus grinned. He shifted the cord and brought the triton into view just under the water, the beautiful shell rich and multi-colored. Nestled in the opening was a curly pile of tentacles; Sara’s fingers tightened reactively on Thetus’s but he shook his head. “No fears—Jack is just a baby, really. I found him hiding under a broken coral head and realized his mother had either died or abandoned him, so I took him on as a project of sorts. Male octopi usually don’t live long,” Thetus added softly, “but I think this one will with my help.”

“You call him Jack?” Sara murmured, still not touching the little cephalopod, but eyeing him carefully. Thetus nodded, and looked embarrassed.

“His full name is Monterey Jack CoralCrag, and he’s very smart—he’s got a rattle.”

“You’re kidding me,” Sara snorted, her brown eyes dancing. “A rattle?”

“Yes,” Thetus admitted. “Seed pearls in a hollow clamshell pair—he likes the vibrations when he shakes them.”

Charmed, Sara looked down at the little octopus and held out a finger; the baby wrapped one delicate tentacle around it in exploratory fashion. She smiled, and Thetus thought the sight of her bobbing on the waves, long brown hair trailing in the water was more than his heart could take.

“He’s got a grip,” Sara murmured happily. “I think he’s cute.”

“Sara—“ he murmured, speaking quickly now, before his courage failed him. “There is more to the green pearl than you know. Why did you choose that color in particular?”

She looked up from playing tickle touch, frowning. “Is there something wrong with it?”

Thetus shook his head. “No, it’s just . . . a very unusual choice. Green pearls hold a great deal of power. They have . . . “ he hesitated, clearly unsure how to phrase it, then took the plunge, “magic.”

“Magic.” Sara echoed, her sceptical stare making his face heat up. Thetus drew in a discouraged breath and looked down at baby Jack.

“It’s not the right word, but it’s the one we use—magic is how things change, Fingerling—the egg goes from being a thing of shell and yolk to a living creature; the bolt of lightning changes wood to fire; the bite of water on iron eats it away. All magic.”

“No. Those aren’t magic,” Sara objected, drawing her brows together. “They’re phenomenon of the natural world, okay? Fertilization and chemical reactions, not mumbo-jumbo unexplainable stuff.”

“Call it by your name if you wish, but the principle stands. Green pearls are a powerful agent of change, Sara. All pearls hold within them a hint of that possibility, since they themselves are the result of a change within an oyster. Green ones, however are more concentrated. More powerful.”

Sara worked her jaw a little before speaking again. “More powerful?”

“Much,” Thetus nodded. “And the change they can create can be controlled, but not reversed. A green pearl, ground finely into powder and added to a certain infusion of plants and extracts can make one thing into . . . another.”

Sara said nothing, but Thetus could see the struggle in her expression, and gave a discouraged sigh, continuing.  “I have never made the Formulae, but I know of it, and how it is prepared. The green pearl is but one rare ingredient in a list of five, and depending on the ritual used, it can . . . “ Thetus hesitated, his glance more deeply serious than Sara had even seen before.

She nodded, urging him wordlessly to continue. He did. “It could change us. Either one of us.”

“Change us?”

“Yes.” Thetus looked down at the baby octopus. “If I took the Formulae and let you breathe your breath into me, I would become like you—“

He didn’t get to finish; a soft, worried cry of “Sara? Where are you?” came through the rocks, and with a quick splash Thetus dropped under the water. Sara let go of his hand, and the numbing chill of the water hit her all at once. She gave a little gasp and began to wade back in towards the shore, moving around the rocks to see the younger Gallini daughter, Mindy, watching her.

“Mom says lunch is ready,” came the announcement. “And we got salami or cheese samiwiches, so which kind do you want?”

“Ch-ch-cheese,” Sara chattered, reaching the shore and hurrying out of the water. She didn’t dare risk a glance back. As she followed Mindy to the picnic, she barely felt the cold, lost in thought over what Thetus had told her. The logical part of her mind argued against it, pointing out that transformation wasn’t possible. Oh sure there was something called gene therapy in the works—she’d heard about cloning and cell replacement from the discussions her biology teacher had during lab time, but he’d pointed out that anything definitive was still decades away . . .

And the other part of her mind pointed out that Mermen weren’t even supposed to exist, so who was she to refute anything anyway?

Still puzzling over Thetus’s intensity, Sara followed Mindy back to the blanket.

Thetus wrestled with his conscience for three days and nights, finding no distraction or pleasure in anything during that time. He talked to Jack; or rather, projected his thoughts towards the small creature since vocalization under water was difficult. Jack had no answers; he patted Thetus’s beard with his little tentacles and clung to his fingers playfully instead.

In the end though, Thetus made a choice. He drifted on the surface of the water, far out at sea, watching the moon set as he did so, feeling the tangle of emotions within him smooth out in a sense of peaceful resolution. When the silvery orb had dropped below the horizon, and the first light of dawn began to steal across the hills of the land, Thetus slipped down into the water, barely leaving a ripple along the small waves.

He felt the transparent nictating membranes slide smoothly over his eyes, keeping the salt water out of them, felt the little flaps within his nostrils close for the same reason. Carefully Thetus flexed his gills, taking a moment to let his body make the full readjustment to water. Ever since breathing in Sara’s kisses, the lingering effects of their Bond had him moving more easily between air and water. For the moment though, Thetus focused his attention on the world he’d been born to, and dove deeper into the semi-darkness of the deep sea, making his way down nearly twenty feet to the ocean floor.

The edge of the Tomales Bay oyster bed was a quiet section of the sea, with a few scattered mid-water fish and a few moon jellies passing through at the moment. Thetus let his gaze move over the rocky, mossy landscape and thought back to what Maenae had told him to look for: deeper pockets, protected by rock with currents passing over them.

Seeing a likely spot, Thetus moved closer and reached down, raking his fingers through the silt carefully. The first pass yielded nothing, but on the second one, he felt the edge of something sharp. With a little patient tugging, Thetus freed the oyster, pulling it free amid a swirl of sand. It was a big one; nearly the size of his palm and he brushed away the debris on it, hefting the weight happily.

It wasn’t hard to open; after years of practice in finding the hinge and prying expertly with a piece of broken shell, Thetus had his breakfast before him in minutes. There were two pearls in the big oyster, uneven in size, but with a delicate luster he admired. Neither was green, although the larger had hints of bronze in it.

Thetus looked over the spot, fixing it firmly in his mind, then swam for home, thinking about the logistics of moving. The bed wasn’t far from the beach where Sara had been coming, and even though there weren’t as many kelp fields or rocky overhangs, it still had promise—as long as there weren’t too many divers or dredgers coming through. Everything else could be dealt with in time, and that was one commodity he had more than enough of at the moment.

The first year was all right, mostly.

 Mr. Gallini was in the hospital for tests, but Sara took care of Mindy and Michelle while their mother did the long drive into Petaluma Memorial. Sara got her license and began running more of the errands; as a reward she was given a few free afternoons and spent most of them in the cool water of Tomales Bay, her hand firmly in Thetus’s supportive grip.

She learned. About terns, and rockfish and how to read the tides and clouds. Thetus laughed at her mask and snorkel, but with them, she saw his underwater face; flowing brown hair, his eyes silvery-blue under their thin haws. Sara saw and remembered, pulling up memories later of glittering waves of anchovies, and endless blue underwater vistas; of playing tag with a bigger Jack and of floating on her back with Thetus beside her.

They spent time talking, and time in quiet; each time Sara had to go, she trailed her fingers along his jawline, savoring the feel of his soft beard.


The second year hurt.

Mr. Gallini died, quickly and painfully, the cancer eating him from the inside out. His widow cried and cried, but in the end, it all came down to the money that wasn’t there. Michelle, Mindy and their mother moved to Terra Haute to stay with her parents, and Child Services took Sara to a group home on Fifteenth Street in Lawson’s Landing. She shared a dingy room with two other girls who stole from her and pushed her around whenever they knew they could get away with it.

Sara kept her mouth shut.

Sara’s mother was transferred to Chowchilla, and kept on Prolixin most of the time; her letters were infrequent, and full of profanity mixed with rambling verses of country and western songs. All visit requests were routinely denied since Sara had no guardian to escort her on the four-hour drive.

She kept her grades up, grimly finding places to study in public parks and libraries, focusing on science because she’d always had a natural bent for it, and it offered both comfort and challenge. Physics fascinated her, but biology came a close second.

Brie stopped bringing her messages; the tern had moved on, following his instincts and migrating; after a few weeks, Sara forced herself to stop looking on the dingy windowsill for seashells.

Her little bag of pearls disappeared.

A day later one of her roommates had a new Walkman.

On the second anniversary of the murder, Sara stole a car and two bottles of wine, then drove out to a secluded section of beach along the Bay. She sat on the cold sand for a long time, slugging down the overly sweet Chardonnay, staring at the dark water and letting equally dark thoughts swirl through her brain. When the first bottle was empty, she threw it into the water and watched it drift off on the current.

She waded unsteadily into the water, deliberately not thinking of him. The chill hit her shins and Sara wobbled, feeling torn between fury and tears. Overhead the stars shone, and the whip of the wind added sense of desolation. Sara opened her mouth and screamed.

The wind carried her cry off, thinning and diluting it like smoke, dissipating the sound to her intense disappointment. She was spoiling for a good fight; for a chance to lash back at all of it. For a moment, Sara swung the other bottle of wine, gripping the neck of it like a handle.

“I HATE my life!” she yelled, not caring if anyone heard her this time. It felt good to vocalize it so Sara did it again. “I HATE everybody!”

There was no answer, and she looked out over the inky darkness, despair welling up in her thick and black. A stolen car would mean a police record, possibly time in Detention, and an end to the Berkeley scholarship shot.

One stupid move wiping out everything, just the way her mother had done two years ago.

She stumbled and fell, landing on her ass with a loud splash. The bottle slipped out of her hands and Sara yelped as the icy water soaked her clothes. She fumbled under the water, reaching, reaching—

A hand slid into hers, and the water warmed around her instantly. For a moment, Sara debated yanking her fingers free, but the gentle squeeze undid her completely and she clutched back more tightly.

Then he was behind her, supporting her back as the waves broke over them, rolling their bodies to and fro in the surf. Sara spluttered and struggled, but Thetus towed her out beyond the wave line and floated on the surface, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she gradually relaxed.

“I hate you too,” she mumbled. Thetus said nothing. They drifted slowly for a while, and Sara coughed. Gently Thetus turned her head as she quietly vomited, then he swam them out of the mess, his long tail sweeping in strong strokes as he towed her along.

“Rinse out your mouth,” he murmured. Sara lolled her head to look at him, focusing muzzily in the dark.

“Why?”

“You’ll feel better.”

It was good advice and Sara clumsily took it, sucking up a quick mouthful and gargling it a bit before spitting it out once more. Her head hurt, but not as much as her heart, and she closed her eyes hard to stop the tears before they came. Thetus slid his arms around her and stretched out, his body under and supporting hers as they lay back on the top of the water.

“Why?” he asked, quietly.

Sara cried then, loud drunken sobs the bubbled up from the pain inside her thin wet frame. The rage against her crazy mother, her missing brother, her roommates, her social worker, the cancer that had destroyed the Gallinis, the general fucked-upery of the world at large came out in a verbal version of vomiting—just as painful, just as messy.

When she was done she lolled back against Thetus and looked up at the stars, her eyes stinging, feeling exhausted. He hummed softly in her ear, and for a long time neither of them talked at all. Over them the stars glittered brightly.

“I’m going to Juvenile Detention, Thetus. When Sid finds his car gone I’ll be busted and probably get six months to a year in there. I won’t see you. And when I get out, I’ll be an adult, and probably stuck on probation for a while. I hate my life,” Sara moaned.

“So change it,” Thetus whispered. “We can do that, Sara.”

“I’m trying to change it, but it’s too hard!” she mumbled. “The only good things I have are you and Jack. Where is Jack?”

“Jack’s at home in the oyster bed out on the edge of the Bay. He’s been starting a garden of shells.”

Sara smiled. “Octopus’s garden. I thought that was made up.”

“It’s real. And what I told you about before, Sara of the Shore—the power of the green pearl is real too.”

“God I wish it was!” she cried out sharply. “I wish your damned fairy tale was true Thetus, because if it was, I’d dive into this ocean and never go back to land!”

“Sara—“ he whispered again, and his arms tightened around her waist. “I would give up the sea for you and walk on land if you asked me to.”

That made her laugh, and her giggles turned to hiccups that Thetus in turn laughed about, but in between her spasms, he spoke again, more calmly. “I already have two of the ingredients for the Formulae, Sara, and will accumulate the other three within the year if luck is with me. One ingredient will take a few months to procure, and after that, all will hinge on finding the pearl itself.”

“You’re serious. You always get more formal when you’re serious,” Sara murmured. “Thetus, I don’t care how good a marine biochemist you are, there just isn’t any documented way to change a land-breathing mammal into a water creature.”

“And everything in heaven and earth is known, Sara? Are ALL secrets uncovered, all wondrous truths revealed?” Thetus argued. “So much of this planet is unexplored, and yet you land walkers feel you know it all. I am asking for faith here.”

She turned her face to him, sleepy and sweet. “You’re the only thing I do have faith in.”

Thetus took a breath and let go of his arguments, content with holding her close. After a while, Sara fell asleep, her cheek nestled in the crook of his neck as they floated in the night.