Chapter 15 - “HOME ISN’T HERE”
Daniel refused for almost a minute.
Then Lila's breathing became shallower.
That ended the argument.
They filled the largest bathtub with warm water and carefully measured sea salt according to Evelyn's instructions.
Emma lowered Lila into it.
The change happened immediately.
Silver-blue scales swept over her legs.
The small tail formed.
Lila inhaled deeply.
Her breathing returned to normal.
Daniel sat on the bathroom floor.
He looked shattered.
Emma held their daughter in the water.
Lila smiled.
“She was suffering because we kept changing her back.”
Evelyn's voice remained on speaker.
“Not exactly. Her body is trying to determine which state is safest.”
“Which state is that?”
“For now? Both.”
Daniel looked toward the phone.
“You said children can live normally.”
“Most can.”
“Stop saying most.”
Evelyn went quiet.
Lila splashed happily.
Margaret sat beside Emma.
“How long can she stay like this?”
“As long as the water remains warm.”
“And when we remove her?”
“She should return.”
“Should?”
Evelyn sighed.
“Lila's expression is stronger than any infant I've known.”
Daniel stood.
“Because of both bloodlines.”
“Yes.”
Emma looked down.
The tail was beautiful.
That thought frightened her.
Because beauty made it easier to forget how impossible everything was.
“Does she need the ocean?”
“Eventually.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“Daniel—”
“No. Meridian is watching the coast. You told us the ocean could make the change permanent.”
“It can.”
“Then why would we go?”
“Because permanent isn't necessarily death.”
Emma looked up sharply.
“What does that mean?”
Evelyn hesitated again.
Daniel swore.
“Every answer comes with another secret.”
Evelyn spoke slowly.
“Children with strong dual expression sometimes reach a point where they can choose their form.”
“Choose?”
“Yes.”
“Human or aquatic?”
“Yes.”
Emma looked at Lila.
“She could switch?”
“If she stabilizes.”
“And if she doesn't?”
Silence.
“Mom.”
“She may become unable to remain healthy away from seawater.”
Daniel walked out of the bathroom.
Emma followed.
“You can't run from this.”
“I'm not running.”
“Yes, you are.”
He turned.
“What do you want me to do? Celebrate that our daughter may not be able to walk?”
“She doesn't walk yet.”
“You know what I mean.”
Emma's face tightened.
“You're acting like the tail makes her less our daughter.”
Daniel stared at her.
“I watched her stop breathing.”
“So did I.”
“I can't fix this.”
“Neither can I.”
That was the real source of his anger.
Helplessness.
He sank onto a chair.
Emma sat beside him.
“We don't need to decide her whole life tonight.”
Daniel looked toward the bathroom.
“I just wanted to teach her to ride a bike.”
Emma's expression broke.
“You still might.”
“And if I don't?”
“Then maybe you'll teach her something else.”
Daniel laughed through tears.
“What? Swimming?”
Emma laughed too.
For one brief moment, fear loosened its grip.
Then Lila made a happy squeal.
They returned.
Margaret held her now.
Evelyn remained on speaker.
“There is another reason you need to understand her adaptation.”
Daniel's smile vanished.
“What?”
“Meridian doesn't only want to study her.”
Emma looked at the phone.
“What else?”
“They believe a dual-line child can reach places underwater that ordinary members of our bloodline cannot.”
Margaret frowned.
“Places?”
“Old settlements.”
Daniel stared.
“You said you don't live in underwater castles.”
“We don't.”
Evelyn paused.
“But there are structures.”
“Built by whom?”
“Our ancestors.”
Margaret sat down.
Evelyn continued.
“Most are inaccessible now. Too deep. Too dangerous.”
“And Meridian wants Lila to get there.”
“When she's older.”
Emma's voice became ice.
“They want to raise my daughter as a key.”
“Yes.”
Daniel took the phone.
“Tell Voss something for me.”
“He won't listen.”
“Tell him anyway.”
“What?”
Daniel looked at Lila.
“If he comes near her, he'll learn exactly how human her father is.”
That night, after Lila returned to normal and finally slept, Emma found another message on her phone.
No sender.
Just coordinates.
A beach fifteen miles north.
And one sentence:
IF YOU WANT YOUR CHILD TO SURVIVE, BRING HER HOME.
Emma stared at the word.
Home.
Not to the ocean.
May you like
Home.
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