THE SUN WAS beginning to rise as Caiden ran down the sand and into the water. His daily, early morning swim was something that was purely self-indulgent—he did not have to swim each day to satisfy the half-selkie part of himself, but he loved to feel the caress of the ocean against his flesh and commune with the sea and life within her.
He continued to run until the water was too deep, and then he dived, swimming down towards the sandy bottom and darker depths, holding his breath as long as possible. Then he shot towards the surface like a bullet, erupting from the water in a great splash and sucking down lungfuls of air. He took another deep breath and dived down again. The undulating waves playfully tugging at him as he turned end over end, almost corkscrewing his way down into the aquamarine depths. The light of the rising sun dappled the surface of the sea above him and he darted between each beam of gold that dotted the turquoise, playing in the water and the light.
Dolphins swam up to join him, and he grabbed the dorsal fin of the nearest one, laughing when he surfaced and breathed in air again. The dolphin dragged him along through the water at a rapid rate, making him whoop with delight, a sound echoed by the raucous cries of the seagulls hovering overhead. Schools of fish swam below him, sometimes their silvery bodies brushed against his toes, and Caiden loved that too, the feeling of being so free, so connected to all the elements—water, air, light, earth. The dolphin that pulled him along through the water brought him close to shore, and Caiden felt the soggy roughness of sand beneath his feet. He let go of the dorsal fin, calling a thank you and goodbye to the dolphins as they swam on.
The sun was higher now, and Caiden sighed as he felt the euphoria and rush of freedom slowly drain away as the reality of his life came crashing down around him. He couldn’t stay here in the sea; he couldn’t spend the rest of the day lingering on the beach. He waded slowly out of the sea and towards the sand, stopping only to pick up the towel he had discarded on his run down to the water. He dried himself off as he walked, trudging glumly towards the road and landward, away from the siren song of the ocean, away from the peace, serenity, and completeness he felt there. He had things to do, places to be, and situations to deal with. And so, as he crossed the road and entered the yard of the house in which he lived, his early morning joy had completely evaporated, replaced with a stoic determination to do what he had to as quickly as possible. Get it done, he told himself, the quicker, the better.
“CAIDEN JONES?”
Caiden was seated in the waiting area of the local Bridging Lives office, the government department that existed to help mythica, as well as help the unemployed find work, the disabled and aged to find care, and the homeless find accommodation. He stood up from the uncomfortable chair upholstered in faded blue and grey wool that was pilling and had seen better days. He hunched into himself as he walked towards the smartly dressed young woman who had called his name, and offered her a half-smile. “That’s me,” he said.
She smiled at him, almost blinding him with her toothpaste-commercial-bright teeth. “Come this way, Mr. Jones.”
He followed obediently, shuffling along and refusing to look at the others like him, seated at desks, facing other smartly dressed people. The young woman in front of him bustled into a cubicle and gestured for him to take a seat. It was much like the one he had vacated in the waiting area of the office. As she moved around the desk to sit at it, she faced both him and a computer.
“Now, Mr. Jones,” she said, barely waiting for him to sit down, “this is just routine, as you understand. As a mythica, you’re required by law to report once every twelve months to us here in the Bridging Lives office. Unless there’s a change in your circumstances, in which case, you are required to report to us no later than fourteen days after the event.”
Mythica were the descendants of all mythological creatures of antiquity—the pixies, fairies, selkies, minotaurs, dragons, and more—who lived and worked alongside humans. Caiden knew this dance. He’d been doing it every year since his eighteenth birthday; before that, he’d been in the company of his aunt and sister, too young to really understand what it was that they were doing in the large, open plan office where everything stank of depression. He shifted in his seat and nodded once, his hands balling into fists as he tucked them into the pockets of his lightweight jacket.
“I know the rules, Miss . . .”
“Schroeder. Sorry, I should have introduced myself.” She smiled a smile that she probably thought was warm and friendly, but that he found to have all the sensitivity of a hungry shark. Thankfully, not all the people here were like that. He knew many were sympathetic, compassionate, and kind from previous visits. “Now then, just for our records, please state into the recorder your personal details and verify your understanding of the proceedings.” She indicated a small digital voice recorder on the edge of the desk, facing him.
Caiden leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Caiden Franklin Jones. Birthdate is September 15th, 1986. Born in Broome, Western Australia. Mum and Dad are deceased. Legal guardian until I turned eighteen was my aunt, Louisa. I have one sister, Marianne. I’m single and have no children. Mythica status is half-breed, human on Dad’s side, and half-selkie on Mum’s side. I live in Tiddy Widdy Beach, with my sister and aunt. I work part-time for the Fisheries Department.” He sat back.
“Thank you, Mr. Jones.” Miss. Schroeder turned her attention to her computer screen. “So, you are twenty-six, is that right?”
“Yeah.” Caiden nodded.
“Are you currently employed?”
“Yeah, I work at the Ardrossan docks, four mornings a week, helping with the catch, making sure it’s all legal and nothing’s overfished or underweight. Like I said—with the Fisheries Department.” Caiden shifted a little in his seat.
“I see. And . . . you attempted to enlist in the navy. I see here that you were rejected due to your mythica status?” At his nod, she went on. “I personally don’t see what the problem is, between you and me, but I don’t make the laws. If it’s any conciliation, they don’t let sy’lph into the armed forces, either.”
Caiden shrugged. “Sy’lph get to do just about everything else though.” For a moment, his mind wandered as he thought back over that brief period of happiness. He’d had the urge to do some good for his country—like his father had done as a young man—and tried to enlist. After all the weeks of personal training he had done, it had come as a huge blow to his self-esteem to learn at the enlistment office that mythica were not permitted to be a part of the armed forces of any kind. He had a law passed years ago in the UN Council of Mythica-Human Security to thank for that, a law made because of the fact that not all mythica could control themselves under heavy stress. He hadn’t even thought to look into the requirements for the armed forces, full of eager teenage vim and vigour, desiring to serve his country and be close to the sea. The knowledge that mythica could not be part of the armed forces had been a deep personal blow to him. Perhaps it would have been better if he’d learned of this prior to training, but Caiden would never know. He had nursed his bitterness for some time, until it gradually began to fade as he decided on a new course for his life.
Miss Schroeder gave him a sad smile. “They came to us from a dying world far, far away, in another galaxy, Mr. Jones. They’ve made themselves useful and contributed a lot to society.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,” Caiden said. He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, and he scrubbed his face with one hand. He wanted this interview to be over—he wanted to go home, walk along the shore of the sea and breathe in the salt tang, let his half-selkie-self comfort him along with the loving caresses of the ocean’s spray and breeze. The interview had barely begun, and he already felt like a second-class citizen.
Miss Schroeder nodded. “You know, you are able to access our counselling services if you need to.”
Caiden shook his head. “No,” he said firmly.
“All right.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s get back to this then.” She turned her attention to the computer screen for a moment and then looked back at him. “You haven’t claimed any benefits . . . ah, oh wait, just medical. Very good. Well, that all looks straightforward.” Miss Schroeder turned back to Caiden and smiled another of those unsettling, shark-like smiles at him. “Thank you for coming in, Mr. Jones, and don’t forget to let us know if your circumstances change . . . or if you’d like to make use of counselling.”
“Okay.” Caiden paused. “Is that it for this year?”
“Oh yes,” Miss Schroeder began, “it’s all routine, and you know how these things are. We just need to dot the i’s and cross the t’s, and—”
A blood-curdling scream cut her off, and Caiden, like everyone else, spun around to look for the source of the sound. His gaze fell on the horrifying sight of a mythica that was half-man, half-creature, roaring loudly and clutching his head, crashing about the office.
“He’s gone crazy,” someone yelled.
“Get security! Shoot him with a tranq!” someone else shouted.
Caiden was moving before he realised. Something was wrong here, something that security with their guns and mythica tranqs wouldn’t fix. With his selkie-enhanced nose, he could smell a strange odour, slightly sweet and nauseating coming from the direction of the mythica. As Caiden leapt from his seat, the man turned, morphing from vaguely human to his full mythica self—a minotaur. The creature’s arms had distorted, becoming larger and more muscular, thick, black hair forced its way through the previously smooth skin. Caiden heard the sounds of bones cracking and creaking as the shape of the creature’s head changed, as tusks and a snout appeared, horns atop its skull, and its jaw disgorged, becoming similar to that of a ravaging wildebeest.
“Great,” Caiden muttered. “A fucking minotaur. Why isn’t it ever a pixie?”
The minotaur was bellowing, foam dripping from his teeth as he swept his arms wide, smashing into the carpet-covered dividers that separated the cubicles. They behaved like dominoes, falling down in a comically slow slide, clattering with muffled thumps to the floor. The minotaur raised his head and bellowed again, a sound that to Caiden’s ears seemed to be full of fear rather than malicious intent.
The minotaur spread his arms out once more, and this time his left fist connected solidly with a hapless young man in a suit. The blow sent the young man flying through the air to crash soundly against a concrete pillar in the waiting area, some twelve feet away. Grimly, Caiden ran towards the minotaur and took a breath, willing his own mythica reflexes not to fail him as he leapt, gymnast-like, and landed on the minotaur’s muscled back.
The creature roared, a noise of surprise, even as Caiden worked his fingers between folds of skin and thick, black hair to find the sensitive pressure points that would knock the minotaur unconscious. Thank God he’d had the forethought to do the pre-enlistment training on his own, he thought, as he fumbled with clumsy fingers for that invisible spot. It was probably the best thing he’d got out the experience.
“Stop . . . fucking . . . thrashing,” Caiden gritted out, as the minotaur swivelled from side to side, waving his lumbering arms and rocking his head back and forth, those sharp horns looming far too close for Caiden’s liking. It was pure, dumb luck that he felt that spot on the minotaur’s neck beneath his index finger, and he pressed down, holding on for dear life as the minotaur gave voice to a pained whine and dropped to his knees. Caiden let go, sliding off the minotaur’s back and rolling onto his side. He drew in a deep breath at precisely the moment that the minotaur, starting to pass out, flailed once more with arms like tree trunks and pounded Caiden’s ribs with fists the size of hams.
Caiden felt the air whoosh out of him first, heard the minotaur crumple, unconscious, to the floor like a felled tree. He was wracked with pain as his brain finally caught up with him, and he knew that he’d been hurt. His eyes watered, and he gasped for air—a gasp that ended on a rattle and fear clutched his heart as Caiden became aware that he had fluid in his throat. Slowly, every move making pain shoot through his whole body, he rolled onto his stomach, gargling and coughing, and raised his head, looking up, trying to get someone’s attention, to beg them to call an ambulance.
His gaze met a pair of silver-blue eyes, the most incredible shade of blue he had ever seen. They were as blue as Caiden’s beloved sea on a sunny day, and rimmed in silver, like sapphires set in white gold. And then pain shot through him again, and Caiden cried out.
“Call the paramedics,” the owner of the amazing blue and silver eyes yelled. “Two ambulances, one for both of them. And call their families!”
He has a voice as gorgeous as his eyes, Caiden thought fuzzily. I wonder if the rest of him is as hot?
The man had been walking towards him as he’d yelled out his instructions, and now he knelt beside Caiden and placed a hand on his shoulder. Caiden focused on the owner of the hand, and even through his pain, he thought this was quite possibly the most attractive man he’d ever seen. Those incredible, inhuman silvery-blue eyes and the unblinking intensity of them drew Caiden’s own gaze and held him. And it was those astounding eyes that alerted Caiden to what the man was.
He was a sy’lph.
Caiden gulped as he recognised what the man was. Sy’lph were the only species of non-humans trusted by humans. He wasn’t sure why that was the case, but he thought that it might have something to do with the fact that they were totally alien and completely open about that alienness. They had come from a world wracked by war, bringing technologies and medical advances to trade for a new home. They’d been welcomed for their peaceful ways and vast intelligence, but that didn’t matter much to Caiden. Sy’lph were the beautiful aliens, the newcomers to Earth, creatures made of malleable, liquid metal, not unlike mercury, who hid their real shape within a created, synthetic, humanoid shell. They were as inhuman as mythica but got more respect from humans than mythica, who had lived on Earth forever. This one was no different.
“Help is on the way,” the sy’lph said. “You’ll be all right, I promise.”
Caiden nodded, gritted his teeth, and wished for unconsciousness. As another wave of pain tore through him, his body granted his silent request, and Caiden was out like a light.
HE CAME AWAKE, feeling disoriented and sore. Taking a deep breath, Caiden winced as his side protested the action.
“You’re awake, thank God,” said his sister, and Caiden turned his head to see Marianne sitting beside him. She was clutching his hand, and her face was pale beneath her shock of curly auburn hair.
“Hey,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he heard how weak he sounded. “Where am I?”
“Ardrossan hospital. Bloody hell, Cai, you gave us a heart attack!” Marianne stood up. “Are you feeling okay? You must be thirsty, you were out for ages.”
“I am, yeah. Thanks,” he added. He looked around, seeing that he was in a curtained-off area in a small ward. The lights were low, and there were several machines and an IV drip beside his bed. He grunted as he pushed himself to sit up, resting a hand on his side as his ribs protested once again. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“Auntie Lou’s gone to see about pain killers,” Marianne said. She held out a cup of fruit juice that Caiden hadn’t noticed her fetch. “Here.”
He took it and drank, draining the cup in one long swallow. Wordlessly, he held it out to his sister for more, and she filled it from a plastic jug that he saw on the side trolley by the bed. He repeated this twice before his thirst was sated, and then he toyed with the plastic beaker, wondering how long he’d been unconscious.
As if she’d read his thoughts, Marianne answered his questions. “You were out for two days,” she said. “They had to operate on you, that minotaur guy managed to crack one of your ribs so badly that a shard had pricked one of your lungs. You are so fucking lucky! What the hell possessed you to ride a crazy minotaur like a cowboy in a rodeo?”
Caiden grinned in spite of the pain he felt. Marianne was hiding her worry behind caustic words—she always had—and he took no offence to her tone of voice. “I thought I’d take up a new career,” he said.
Marianne slapped him upside of the back of the head. It wasn’t hard, but it surprised him, and he yelped. Rubbing his head, he stuck his tongue out at her.
“Sorry,” Marianne said, although she didn’t sound too sorry. “I was worried. Auntie Lou cried, Cai,” she went on, her voice growing gentle. “She was really scared for you. So was I.”
Caiden frowned. He reached over to take one of her hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She squeezed his fingers. “I know. I’m still a bit worried, but I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Once I can get into the sea, I’ll be even better.”
“That’s your first stop as soon as they give you the all clear to leave,” Marianne said.
“Good.” Caiden took a slow, careful breath. “It hurts like a sonofabitch,” he admitted.
“I don’t think a pricked lung and cracked ribs is supposed to feel awesome,” Marianne said drily.
“Ha, ha.” Caiden shifted a little. “I’m also really hungry.”
“No solids for a while,” Marianne said. “But we’ve got fish soup.”
Caiden sighed. “Great. Oh hey, what happened to the minotaur?”
Marianne blinked. “You know, that’s the bizarre thing. Well, no, one of the bizarre things. His parents are freaking out, because he’s usually such a good boy—so they say—and they also said that the doctors here got really worried when they took his blood, because it’s been contaminated. I heard something about a poison while I was eavesdropping on them.”
Caiden felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Poison?”
“That’s what I heard. Maybe he ate a bad hamburger or something, I don’t know.” Marianne shrugged. “But I don’t think he freaked out the way he did on purpose. It’s just a feeling I have.”
“I had the same feeling when it happened. When he was minotaur-shape, he sounded frightened. I think this took him completely by surprise,” Caiden said. He pulled a face of annoyance as he tried to get comfortable. “And I could smell something in the air, a sickly-sweet smell. Like something rotting, but not quite.”
Marianne’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh. You should probably tell the doctors about this. Do you remember anything else?”
“Just his fear. He was really terrified. What’s his name?”
“Spiro,” Marianne said. “His mum and dad run the Ardrossan butcher shop. Do you know the Giannopoulos family?”
Caiden shook his head. “Why would I hang out in a butcher shop, Mari? I mean, really. We’re part selkie, not part lion.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Ha bloody ha. I thought you might have gone there to pick up some steaks for Auntie Lou, or something. Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Giannopoulos are really nice, and they’re completely wrecked with worry. They want to thank you.”
Caiden wrinkled his nose. “They don’t need to do that. How’s Spiro now, do you know?”
“Recovering. That’s all I know. They don’t tell non-fam much.”
Caiden sighed. “Okay. Oh, there was another guy, with those inhuman eyes, I could tell he was a sy’lph—”
“That’d be Gray,” Marianne interrupted. “He’s the liaison for mythica and humans for the Yorke and Eyre Peninsulas. Anyway, he lives in that giant castle-looking thing on top of the bluff on the outskirts of town.”
Caiden grunted at that. “I didn’t know we had sy’lph around here. Why would one come here, of all places?”
“Apparently, he chose to do this job here, something about liking people and loving the landscape. I’m not totally sure what else brought him here.”
“Huh. There aren’t many of them, something like two hundred or so. And I bet, too, that everyone was falling over themselves to be around him, like a fan club.”
Marianne shrugged and sat back in her chair, stretching out her legs. “Just think of what they’ve brought to Earth. We wouldn’t be half as advanced now without them, and they don’t breed like we do, so no panic about over-population or anything.”
“Yeah, yeah, they travelled for twenty-eight years to get here after war destroyed their galaxy, and they brought with them scientific and medical gifts in exchange for being allowed to live here.” Caiden rolled his eyes as he recited what he’d been taught in school.
“Yeah, and for all of that, they still get hated by fuckers who think anyone different is deserving of death,” Marianne said drily, glaring at him.
“Yeah, but these guys come flying in from outer space and bam! Friendsies.”
“Friendsies is far too cute a term to be applicable,” said a new voice.
Caiden and Marianne looked up as one. Caiden paled as he saw the owner of the voice—it was Gray, the sy’lph who had captured him with his incredible eyes back in the Bridging Lives office. He licked his lips, taking him in properly for the first time.
He was gorgeous—as Caiden remembered—but there was an air about him of ancient, timeless sadness, so old that he himself probably was no longer even aware of it. He had short blond hair, pale skin, and rose-coloured lips. There were laugh lines at the corners of his beautiful silver-blue eyes, and his expression was warm and friendly. He was tall, perhaps just over six feet, and wore a deep charcoal-coloured suit with a white shirt and pale-blue tie. Despite his physical beauty and his eyes, the sy’lph looked as much a human as Caiden himself did.
“What word would you use, then?” Caiden heard himself asking.
The sy’lph laughed. It was music to Caiden’s ears, trilling along his nerves, sending little sparks of joy through him. Caiden found himself grinning, and then instantly forced himself to stop it. He didn’t want to like the sy’lph—any of them—and he certainly didn’t want to be charmed by one.
“Cautious allies,” the sy’lph said. “Prudence would suggest caution is the wisest path, don’t you think, Mr. Jones?”
“Yeah, but call me Caiden. Mr. Jones is our dad, and he’s dead.”
“All right.”
“And you are?” Caiden quirked an eyebrow. He knew he was being facetious, but he didn’t care.
“My name’s Gray.”
“Gray . . . what?”
“Just Gray. Sy’lph don’t use surnames.” Gray turned to Marianne. “Your aunt will be along directly, Miss Jones. She’s just signing the relevant paperwork for your brother’s treatment and release. I’ve spoken to your bosses, and they’ve given your family the week off. All things considered, I thought you’d welcome the chance to ensure your brother is well.”
“Marianne,” she said. “And we would. Thanks, Gray, that’s awesome.”
“You’re most welcome.” Gray reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a silver case. He opened it and pulled out a cream card, then held it out to Caiden. “That’s my card,” Gray said. “Feel free to contact me if you need anything.” His eyes locked with Caiden’s as he took the card, and Caiden swallowed hard. “Anything at all,” Gray added.
“Okay,” Caiden said. His heart was pounding.
“I need to return to the office. I’m glad to see you’re awake and recovered—for the most part.” Gray gave them a nod by way of farewell.
“Before you go,” Caiden said, “can I ask you a question?”
Gray paused. “Of course.”
“Can the sy’lph do magic?”
Gray blinked. Then he burst out laughing. “No, Caiden, we can’t. I hadn’t heard that one before though.” He shook his head. “Magic indeed. I like it!”
Caiden rolled his eyes. “I’m so pleased to have amused you,” he said.
“Humour is better than anger, don’t you think?” Gray inclined his head once more. “Goodbye for now.”
“Wanker,” Caiden muttered as Gray left the ward.
“Oh stop it,” Marianne said. She took the card from him and pulled her purse out of her bag and tucked the card into it. “You’re so hot for him to fuck you. It’s so obvious.”
“I am not!”
“You so are!”
Before the fight could fully get underway, there was a polite cough, and Caiden looked towards it, relieved to see that it wasn’t the sy’lph—Gray, he reminded himself—but a nurse.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but Spiro’s parents would like to talk to you, if that’s all right?”
Caiden sat up straighter, wincing as his side immediately protested. “That’s fine. I’d like to see them.”
“All right then, I’ll send them in.” The nurse gave Caiden and Marianne a warm smile and left. A few moments later, she returned with a man and a woman in their mid-sixties in her wake. “Mr. and Mrs. Giannopoulos, this is Caiden and Marianne Jones.” Then the nurse was gone, leaving the four of them alone in the curtained off area that was Caiden’s room.