5.Changing Tides

5. Changing Tides

The coffee shop is quiet this afternoon, with no line at the counter—perfect for studying. After placing my order, I scan for a seat and spot Samson at a nearby table. Oh crap.

I planned on staying here and doing homework. I also planned on avoiding the temperamental fire wizard at all costs—what a dilemma. Maybe I should take my order to go?

Samson looks engrossed in his book, focusing so intensely he's frowning. Even the way he flips the pages seems intense and urgent. We don’t share any classes, so I’ve never seen him like this. My stupid eyes think he looks attractive since I've never seen him so serious and focused. I can’t tear my gaze away.

Suddenly, Samson's head snaps up and he sees me. I know because our gazes lock and we both freeze for a moment, like two mermaids caught in a ship's searchlights. He recovers first. Samson grunts and goes back to his book.

I roll my eyes. Fine, if Samson wants to play the brooding bookworm, let him. I drift closer to another table, settling into a chair with a sigh. I need to focus on my own studies anyway.

"Do you think the nymphs…"

"No, that doesn't make sense. Nymphs are…"

A group of students are engaged in what seems to be an intellectual discussion. I catch snippets of their conversation and perk up when I realize they're talking about nymphs. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I approach them.

"Are you studying nymphs from Greek mythology?" I ask, flashing a friendly smile.

One student, a young man with thick glasses and an air of superiority, glances at the Intro to Biology textbook tucked under my arm. "I don't tutor undergrads," he replies dismissively.

"No, I don't need help. I thought I might be able to help you. Or at least contribute to the discussion. I'm a water nymph."

"There aren't any male water nymphs," the student retorts, clearly unimpressed. "In Greek mythology, the closest counterpart is probably the Potamoi river gods. All the Nereids or nymphs are female, and all the Potamoi are male."

This was a time in history when the supernatural wasn't understood everywhere in the world. The Greeks wrote about what they observed, but their records aren’t entirely accurate.

“Actually, those classifications aren't about gender.” I adjust the book in my grasp, showing the scales on my forearm. “They're roles based on duties and abilities, not biology. All water spirits are free to select the roles that best suit them.”

And we usually call ourselves water spirits or nymphs when referring to the whole group.

"Uh, I'm getting a master's in mythology and early supernatural lore, and that information doesn't check out," the student carries on. One of his friends tries to nudge him and point out my scales, but he ignores her. "What's your source?"

"…I'm a water nymph," I repeat.

"There are no male water nymphs," he insists.

Suddenly, a loud thud breaks through the tense conversation as Samson slams his book down on his table. I turn to see him towering over us, his deep brown eyes blazing with annoyance.

"Cut it out," he barks at the student.

"Uh, oh, sorry," the student stammers, taken aback by Samson's intensity. "There are limits to how the ancient Greeks viewed the world. If you don't identify as male, that's a different story."

"Dude, look at him," Samson says, gesturing toward me. "The blue scales mixed with his human skin, those innocent doe eyes, the faint yet unmistakable aura of water magic. He is literally a water nymph. Your books got it wrong since you're talking to the real deal here."

The student looks at me again and blinks, finally realizing his mistake. "I've been spending too much time in the library and have forgotten that not everything is an academic discussion. I apologize."

"Apology accepted," I say, smiling gently as I extricate myself from the conversation.

Grateful for Samson's intervention, I hover in front of his table. Avoiding him seemed like the best course of action after his stunt with the wall of fire. I have no idea why he came to my defense now. He’s even more confusing than my textbooks.

"Thank you for your help," I tell him sincerely.

"No problem," he replies. "Do people give you a hard time?”

“No, not usually. People sometimes do a double take when they see I have scales and skin, but it doesn't bother me. They've just never seen someone like me before.” I shift uncomfortably, not knowing if I should sit down. "Unfortunately, I didn't even find out what the other students were talking about."

A female student from the other table overhears my comment and turns to me. "We started discussing nymphs because we heard there's a nymph community nearby that was disturbed by a recent landslide."

There's only one nymph community remotely close to the university. Calypso Bay. The place where I grew up.

~

Everything is upside down.

The Jeep rumbles beneath me as Samson races us towards Calypso Bay. I'm still reeling, trying to make sense of this bizarre turn of events.

The bay is supposed to be a calm, quiet place where nothing much ever happens. A tranquil escape where the water laps gently at the shore and the nymphs weave their magic beneath the surface. Now there’s been a landslide?

And just when I think Samson is nothing more than a selfish asshole, he surprises me with all his assistance. He’s driving me to the bay in his Jeep. I tried to turn him down, but I don’t have my own wheels and he insisted. I was too desperate to protest more.

What in the watery world is going on?

Samson makes great time. Pretty sure he speeds the whole way. We’re heading through the nature preserve that gives way to the bay at the far end of its borders, a teeming wild forest home to both natural and supernatural species.

. We approach a blockade in the middle of the road, a big orange and white pylon stopping us when we’re so close. A ranger in a standard green uniform eventually makes his way to our vehicle and Samson rolls down the window.

"Will you let us through?" Samson's fingers already drum impatiently against the wheel of his Jeep.

"Sorry, no can do," replies the park ranger. His large brim hat obscures the top half of his face from where I’m sitting though I can see a bristly brown mustache. "You boys might not be aware, but there was recently a landslide in the area. The road is closed. You’re going to need to turn around and—"

"We know,” Samson interrupts. “We need to get through and—"

"Nope, we don’t allow visitors in after a natural disaster. This is a serious situation.”

"Come on!"

"Nothing I can do. Everybody’s got to turn around and go back. No exceptions." The ranger gives us a stern expression, indicating that we should move along now.

There is a way I could check on the bay back near campus, but we’re already here. I must see what’s going on for myself.

Exchanging a glance with Samson, it’s clear neither of us are willing to let this go so easily. However, we both have different approaches to handle this. Samson goes first.

"Make an exception for us," Samson demands. If someone could bend the world to his will with sheer force of presence, he'd be king of the entire earth.

The ranger puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head, his bristly mustache twitching slightly. “Not gonna happen.”

"Nobody has to know," Samson offers.

"I’ll know," the ranger counters.

"Just let us through. I’m trying to do this the nice way."

"Really? Because I don’t appreciate your tone."

"We can just go through you," Samson suggests casually like it isn’t the threat it clearly is.

"Threatening a park ranger is a serious offense," the ranger warns.

Okay, this isn’t working. Time for me to try.

I reach over, resting my hand lightly on Samson's shoulder. He pushes his seat back, giving me room to lean over and talk directly to the ranger.

"Excuse me, sir. I really need to get in,” I plead. “I have family in the bay."

"That’s not possible. Nobody lives down there."

"No human," I correct gently.

Samson flicks on the interior light so that the man can see me clearly, and I make sure the scales of my arm are visible in the light. My blue scales shimmer, and the guard's eyes widen.

“Oh, I didn’t realize.” This time, he looks apologetic when he denies us. “Sorry, son, I wish I could help, but I have my orders. Can't let anyone in.”

Before I can respond, Samson raises a hand towards me and turns to the guard with a forced calmness. "Alright, looks like we’re out of luck. We’re just gonna turn around now. Thanks for your help."

As he steers the car away, I sit frozen in the passenger seat. I can't believe it. After months, I'm finally back and now I can't even get into the bay.

We drive in silence until Samson finds a secluded spot to park, surrounded by trees. Our location isn’t that far from the barricade or from the bay, but we aren’t close enough. What am I going to do?

Samson breaks the quiet. "Let's get out of the car."

"Why? We should drive around and find a different route to try—"

"You think they posted one annoying park ranger at this entrance and the rest are just wide open?"

"He wasn’t annoying. Just doing his job."

"Come on," Samson urges. "Let's get out until we figure out what to do next. You could use some fresh air."

Reluctantly, I follow him out of the Jeep. The cool air does feel nice on my heated skin but offers little comfort. I start pacing by the side of the road. Near the edge of the forest, leaves and pine needles crunch under my feet as I pace.

"What should we do now?" I ask, pacing nervously.

Samson shrugs. "We’ll figure something out."

“We could try going through the forest, but I'm actually not very familiar with these woods. I came to the surface to see humanity, so I always just stuck to the paths. I haven't really explored."

Not everything in these woods is friendly either. Animal predators are easy enough for two people with magic to get away from. But any supernatural predator that doesn't appreciate trespassers…

"Samson, what do you think?" But when I turn, he's gone. "Where did you go? Samson?"

“Over here.” He’s up ahead, partially hidden on the edge of the tree line as he looks in the direction we came from. "I have an idea."

I jolt and march towards him. "No!"

"You haven't even heard my idea yet."

"No need. All your plans always involve fire."

"How dare you? Only one of my plans involves fire. The other is to beat the ranger up."

"Nope, I like that idea even less."

“Hey, look at that. The barricade is on fire," he says evenly.

What the hell? My steps quicken until I'm beside him, peering at the flames spreading across the wooden barrier. The smell of smoke is sharp in the air. The startled ranger shouts and frantically rushes away from the blaze.

"Samson, no. You can't just set things on fire!"

"Oh no, how in the world did that happen?" A poorly hidden smirk threatens the corners of his mouth.

"Are you kidding me?" I whisper-shout at him in alarm.

"What a strange turn of events," he continues woodenly. “You see something new every day. Surprised noises.”

“Come on, try a little bit harder to be innocent. ‘Surprised noises,’ really?” I shake my head and become more serious. “Samson, someone could get hurt.”

"Doubt it. His uniform will protect his skin, and the heat is very low." He leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "I mean, I’m just guessing here, but it looks like the flames aren’t very hot. I don’t know if the barricade will even get singed. He’s gonna get that put out real fast, so we better hurry."

The ranger runs up to the barrier with a fire extinguisher at the ready.

“Let’s go!” Samson springs into action, darting into the forest and setting a path for the other side of the barricade.

"Dammit!"

I follow him, slipping into the shadows of the forest. My pulse races as I dart through the trees with him, hoping the ranger is distracted.

When Samson looks back and slows down, I know we’ve gone past the blockade because he holds a finger to his lips before I can speak. He’s grinning at me, excited that we succeeded—and I find myself smiling back.

He hides behind a large tree and nods to where we came from. Everything looks under control. The sounds of the extinguisher hissing cease, and all the flames are gone.

A black smudge mars the barricade. I nudge Samson pointedly. So much for the flames not being hot enough to leave a mark.

We watch as the ranger touches the black spot gingerly. Not finding it too hot, he rubs at the blackness and wipes it away. It was only soot; as Samson promised, the fire wasn't very hot. He had been careful after all, in his own reckless way.

He nudges me back with a triumphant grin. It reminds me of the flirty future firebrand I thought I knew. I’m not quite sure who he is now. There are hidden depths to him.

He’s more than the easy-going guy I first met. And he’s more than the closed off jerk I saw in Liam’s office too. Him coming to my defense at the coffee shop and getting me here to the bay proves that.

I wonder if I’ll ever have enough pieces to put the whole Samson puzzle together. But there’s a different mystery I need to solve first.

Together, we head towards the bay, not knowing what devastation will greet us when we arrive.

~

We stand at the edge of a steep drop-off, the vast expanse of Calypso Bay stretching out before us.

Samson looks down and sucks in a sharp breath, seeing the long way down and the jagged cliffs and spires that rise from the churning surf below. I gaze out over the dark, restless waters. To me, the rugged beauty of this place feels right, cliffs and all. Gulls cry overhead, circling the rocky peaks.

"How do you even get down there?" he wonders.

"Very carefully."

The treacherous landscape is a natural part of my home. I know the cliffs well. When I first started sneaking away, I found the easiest routes over the cliffs and out of the bay. Secret pathways that are quite scalable—provided the creatures inhabiting the coves and caves don’t mind your intrusion.

It’s the area off to the right at the far edge of territory that looks new and wrong. The damage from the landslide. A section of the cliff has collapsed.

A formless mass of rock and mud remains, a smudge that drops down into the water. The damage underneath must be even worse. No doubt several of the caves the imps call home are destroyed, everything above collapsing on their network of tunnels and hideaways.

“Whoa, careful there.” Samson reaches out and blocks me with his arm. Apparently, I’ve stepped closer to the edge as I view the devastation. His forearm feels warm against the thin layer of my shirt.

Does he run hotter as a firebrand? Or am I just imagining things as I lean into his touch, needing to feel his comforting heat?

“Do you want me to go with you?” He glances at the cliffs below us. “Can I even go with you?”

“I’ll be fine on my own. Oh, but you should be careful if you hear anything strange. Imps and a family of trolls live in the caves below.” Or what's left of the caves below. Hopefully, they weren't hurt.

Getting down past the cliffs doesn’t take long as I navigate a familiar route. The rocks themselves could hurt me if I fell, but slippery surfaces aren't a problem for a water nymph. And after a steady stream of bribes—shiny things from the bottom of the ocean for imps and crabs and other seafood for the trolls—they accepted me coming and going as I please.

Though hard to see from the cliffs when looking directly down over the bay, there is a hidden stretch of sand before the surf in one spot, a beach littered with driftwood and shells. A small dock is located there.

I jump into the cold water from the dock, relishing the opportunity to swim in these waters again, even if the circumstances aren't ideal.

Home sweet home.

But it's not quite. Maybe I've been gone too long. It doesn't feel the same. The temperature, the current, I can’t tell if I’m imagining it, but it all feels changed somehow.

I do feel a familiar presence before long. My mother is nearby. She meets me on the surface of the water.

"Argyle! I thought I felt you in the water."

"Mom!"

"What in the ocean are you doing here?"

The water parts around my mother's graceful movements. Her long hair dances in the gentle currents, and the teal color looks darker in the fading light. Delicate blue scales glimmer across her body, her eyes the same striking turquoise that resembles the waters themselves.

I pull her into an embrace, my arms wrapping around her small frame. The water around us sloshes as she lifts her arms and holds me close. I bury my face in her hair, savoring this reunion.

Too soon, the urge to get answers makes me pull away. "Mom, I heard there was a landslide. I had to come. Are you okay, is everyone—"

"Relax, it’s alright." She hugs me again as we float in the water together. "We are all fine. Nobody is hurt. Only the edge of our territory was involved in the landslide. Everything is okay."

Relief washes over me like a wave. "I'm so glad. What happened?"

"Ah, that." A frown creases her brow. "We're fine, only embarrassed. It's no big deal, really, we should have been able to recognize and prevent it. Guess we're stretched a little thin."

"Stretched thin? Did more people leave?"

She sighs. "That’s nothing new. You weren’t the first to leave and you won’t be the last. We’re just a tiny little bay that sees next to nothing. Nymphs move onto the warmer seas and what is it you told me the humans say? Bluer pastures?"

"Greener pastures," I say softly. "Mom, I'm sorry."

"Argyle, it still would have happened even if you were here. One nymph couldn't have prevented this. There's nothing to worry about. We're already planning repairs for the morning. We'll get everything back in harmony."

I hesitate, the rhythm of the waves lapping against me gently. Is everything perfectly fine and the landslide was just a minor issue? Would she tell me if things weren’t going well?

For water nymphs, I’m still on the young side. It wouldn’t surprise me if my mother saw my life on land as some kind of youthful indiscretion I’d grow out of eventually. Nymphs can live longer because of their connection to nature, their lives are tied to something bigger than them. But since I can’t merge my life essence with the water here in the same way, I have a human lifespan.

"Are you sure everything is fine?” I ask. “I could come visit or stay the night."

She shakes her head, hair fanning out into the water behind her. "It’s nothing. We've seen worse than this."

"What?" Searching my memory, nothing comes to mind. "No, we haven't. I'd remember."

"It was before your time, but we can handle more than you know. You don’t need to worry about us." Her smile is there, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She looks sad, and I know what's coming next. She floats backward, unlinking herself from me. "It was good to see you, Argyle."

But now it’s time for you to go, she doesn’t say. I get the message anyway.

"Good to see you too." I return her smile, though it feels brittle. "Mom, it doesn't have to be this way."

"Getting dark," she says, acting like she didn’t hear the last part. "You should probably head home."

I swivel slightly, looking back towards the shore, then to her. "This is my home."

"Your new home, I mean. This is where you came from, your past."

Water sloshes as I kick my legs restlessly. "I don’t think I should have to choose between one or the other."

"What’s done is done." She sounds resigned. "Look towards the future."

"I love you," I say. If only I knew the right words to make this right, to lift my exile, but at least I can tell her this.

"I love you too."

But she doesn't want me to stay.

I pivot in the water and begin swimming back to the dock, each stroke taking me farther from her and closer to Samson and the life I've built above the waves.