Free Waking Storms by Sarah Porter Page B

Suddenly she was aware of how isolated the two of them were together, buried in the core of the vast dim fog. He stared at her with fierce concentration.
    “You’re talking to me now, is the thing. If I let you go you’re never going to come back. So I’m going to sit here and freeze.” He was shaking so hard that the pebbles rattled faintly under his sneakers. “Are you really not cold at all?”
    “It’s against the law for me to talk to you. We’re not supposed to have any contact with humans.” She didn’t know how to explain that the timahk was much more than just the law, at least in the way humans thought of it.
    “So?”
    “So Anais will kill me if she finds out. Literally kill me. She wants me dead anyway.” She watched him suppress an impulse to ask who Anais was. “And I can’t let Dana find out you’re still alive. You don’t get—For us this is really serious.”
    “Dana’s the one who found the drawing?”
    Luce nodded. “She’s actually—she’s one of the nicest girls in the tribe. But there’s no way she’ll understand how I could do this. Let you get away twice. She’ll feel like I let her down.” His eyes took on the same expression of intense consideration she’d noticed earlier. She couldn’t stop herself from liking that look.
    He reached up and pulled down the long zipper of his drenched parka, shrugging it off his shaking arms. His longsleeved T-shirt was still soaked, clinging to him. Luce was ready to snap at him for doing something so stupid when he grinned and leaned closer, holding the parka out to her. It was olive wool, with a lot of pockets and a quilted orange lining; even soaking wet it felt warm in her hands.
    “Give it to Dana. She’ll think I’m dead. That way you’ll get enough space to hang out with me.”
    “Enough...” Luce wanted to refuse, to tell him to forget he’d ever seen her. Instead she said, “Why would she believe me? That it’s yours?”
    He smiled brilliantly. “There are five more of my drawings folded up in the pocket. She’ll totally buy it. You’ll see.”
    Luce cradled the jacket, and noticed a name written in black marker down one sleeve. “Dorian.”
    “You can read. Crazy.” He was still smiling. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
    She hesitated. It seemed wrong to tell him, but then everything else she was doing was wrong, too. “Luce.”
    For some reason that made him laugh. “But I guess since you’re a mermaid that isn’t short for Lucille or anything?”
    The question made Luce snort in annoyance. “It’s short for Lucette! I hate Lucille; it’s like the worst name ever.” He laughed harder. Now that he didn’t have his parka he was almost doubled up with tremors. “What’s so funny?”
    “You ... sound so human ...”
    “I...” Luce started, and then caught herself, dismayed at what she’d been about to say. I am human. How could she even think something like that?
    While she was consumed by the disturbing implications of that thought, Dorian got up on his knees, leaned across the narrow span of sea between them, and kissed her again. The kiss was so soft that it could have been part of the night, a single drop of blue darkness spilled on her lips. Foggy heat gathered inside her, reminding her of her lost human body. This was what Catarina had felt, Luce thought, the reason she’d kept up her forbidden encounters with drowning boys...
    “You’re going to come back?” It wasn’t really a question.
    “Yes,” Luce told him, and instantly regretted it. She watched as he staggered to his feet, then realized that she didn’t want to see him leave. She slashed away fast into deepening waters, trying to obliterate her thoughts with movement.

6
    A Glass of Water
    The wave faced him, swaying slightly. It was enormously tall and hunched over so far that the foam dribbling like spittle from its crest dripped onto Dorian’s upturned face. Huge as it was, it leaned pathetically, stretching out its