Colin dinged Ash in the head with another paper ball. Ash shot him a glare and the other sighed. 

“You were zoning out again, bro,” he said. “Come on, we need to study for this damn thing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ash muttered, turning his thoughts away from Coby and his pending arrival to his home, toward the oncoming test that would determine his future in the world of mythic anthropology and cultural studies.

He had been doing rather well for over an hour before Colin spoke up again.

“Have you thought of what you’re going to do your paper on?”

“What paper?” Ash asked absently as he looked between his text and his notes, his stylus flipping through his fingers.

“Seriously, dude?” Colin sighed with exasperation. “The paper we have to write for Mythic Culture 104. You know, the research paper that’s due at the end of the semester? The one Professor Hahn has been reminding us about damn near every day for the last month and a half?”

Ash’s face fell into his hands and he groaned. “Oh, fuck.”

“Dude, you seriously need to get your head in the game before you fail out. You know your dad will kill you if that happens.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ash said behind his hands. “There’s just been a lot going on lately.”

Colin gave a half-shrug. “That’s true. Between your breakup with Scott, your mom’s trip, and now Coby showing up out of nowhere, you have had a lot to deal with.”

“Please do not bring up that shithead again,” Ash moaned, running both hands into his hair, letting his head fall between his arms. “I would like to forget the bastard ever existed.”

“Good luck with that,” Colin said, glancing across the study hall. “The guy is a damn plague, always showing up where he doesn’t fucking belong.”

Ash looked up, following Colin’s gaze with his own. Scott Tulle was several desks away, talking with a few other students, and getting a little too close to one of them. Another guy from their class, a human. Apparently Scott had a taste for human males. Ash’s blood began to boil and he tore his gaze away, turning his focus back on his studies.

“Fuck him,” he growled. “Little bitch.”

Colin turned to him. “Are you really going to torch his—”

“If he comes anywhere near me or my family, yes,” Ash said, flipping through his tablet. And Coby…he better not come within a mile of Coby. “The paper, Colin. What about it?”

“I should be asking you that,” Colin said, glad to divert from the most sensitive subject of the year. “Have you picked a topic to go over?”

“No,” Ash sighed, leaning back in his seat. “There’s too many to choose from, and most of it is shit everyone already knows, anyway. I’ll bet money half the class is going to do a paper on either the fae or imps.”

“Imps aren’t mythics.”

“Tell that to the three girls who are hellbent on writing about them anyway.”

Colin snorted. “I will enjoy watching them sink like a ship.” He sat up as a thought overtook him. “Hey, why don’t you do yours on the merfolk? You can use Coby as a case study.”

Ash furrowed his brow at his best friend. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, man, he’d be perfect! You can make it a first-person study, too, since he’s going to be staying with you for a while, right?”

“I can’t write a paper based on the information given by one merman, Colin,” Ash pointed out. “That’s a biased review.”

“Okay, so do it on the Sarathians,” Colin shrugged. “Or, hell, just do it on Coby himself.”

Ash shook his head. “No way.”

“Why not? He’s prime research material, my dude. A first-hand source into the culture of our very own merfolk tribe. You can’t get an easier A than that.”

“No,” Ash said again. “I’m not going to use Coby like that, Colin. It’s unethical, to say the least.”

“Why, because he’s your friend?” Colin tilted his head, giving him a pointed look. “Or because you have a major crush on him?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ash saw Scott flinch, but he didn’t look in Ash’s direction.

“I don’t have a crush on him,” he muttered, averting his gaze.

“Fine, but it’s obvious you like him.”

Scott sat up straighter but kept his eyes on the boy he was flirting with.

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“Sure, pal.”

“Colin…”

“Look, dude, I get it, okay?” Colin slapped him on the back of the shoulder, grinning. “He’s pretty, he’s funny, and I’m sure he has a great ass.”

“Fuck’s sake…”

“But he’s also a mythic. And you need to do a paper on a mythic culture from our world. Pull your mind out of your pants, put it back in your skull, and consider what exactly you have in front of you, Ash Turner. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this, so you may as well take advantage of it while you can.”

Ash said nothing. He couldn’t. Colin was right, he needed a good topic for this research paper, and Coby really would make a perfect subject for it. Everyone else would pick the standards, leaving the merfolk alone since they weren’t as prevalent as the rest. Plus, he had more interest in the sea world than he did the mythics on land. It made sense he would do a paper on something he enjoyed. His only hang up on it was Coby. He liked Coby and didn’t want to make him feel like he was some sort of test subject or case study to help Ash get ahead. He wanted Coby to trust him, to like him, to rely on him. Whether he did the study covertly or as a one-on-one, he felt like he would betray the merman, something he wasn’t willing to risk.

He turned his gaze out the window, chin in hand, as he looked in the direction of Embers Medical Center and the boy who waited for him there; the Sarathian chased to shore by traitors who were once his friends, men who had sold him out for their own gains. Ash wouldn’t be like them. He refused.

He pulled out his phone and checked his messages, smiling when he saw one from a number he hadn’t yet saved:

I am mising u. Wen will u come agin?

He chuckled, inwardly thanking Nurse Kim for helping Coby figure out how to use the texting features on the phone Ash had bought for him when they’d gone shopping yesterday. Coby was enthralled by the electric cart he used to get around, and it was all Abel could do to keep the two boys from getting into trouble with it. Still, he figured a brief lesson in spelling and grammar wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

He tapped out his response, ignoring Colin’s questioning glance.

Soon, Co. Very, very soon.

**

The Sarathian stepped from the water, his blue eyes scanning the beach, his senses heightened. He could still smell the lingering scent of blood in the air, even though it was nowhere to be found in the sand. Even the foot tracks were gone, the evidence of the fight destroyed by dozens of other beach goers. Still, he knew what had happened here, knew who had been involved…and who had died.

He kept his gaze down as he slowly walked along the shoreline, hoping to find some remnants that he could take back home as proof of the acolyte’s crime. He clenched his jaw. 

Nothing.

He let his frustrated gaze scan the horizon before turning it on the nearby town. If the lingering trail was anything to go by, the criminal had survived and was close by. If only he could find the proof to take back to the chief so he could be judged accordingly. He refused to believe Da-Hana had anything to do with what happened in the sacred caverns. He was a loyal and steadfast hunter, a devout follower of Poseidon’s, just as they all were. He would never desecrate the god’s shrine by shedding the blood of his Sons.

No. It was the acolyte. 

The thief.

The heretic.

The murderer.

He folded his fists, keenly aware of the knife at his belt. Co-Bieasah was here in this town, he was certain of it. He would find the boy and make him pay for what he’d done. He would avenge the blood of the Sons, and of Da-Hana and his men if it was the last thing he did. He would take back the relic, return it to its rightful home, and subsequently restore honor to Da-Hana’s name. He would not allow it to continue to be slandered by such baseless accusations of treachery and greed. That was not the Da-Hana he knew.

He stepped forward with purpose, catching the trail he sought. He hissed with pain as his foot landed on something incredibly sharp buried under the sand. Cursing, he lifted his foot, watching the cut heal, his eye catching on the unmistakable brightness of a polished bone. Stooping down, he carefully reached into the sand, his fingers wrapping around the familiar shape of a handle. He lifted it, the sand pouring off the pointed blade of an acolyte’s knife, some of it still sticking to the dried blood that clung to the carefully carved shark tooth.

He grinned and turned his determined gaze back to Marina Bay.

“Konta-ma.”

**