Tempest Revealed by Tracy Deebs Page B

take on whoever had done this, I couldn’t leave my dad all alone in the middle of the ocean. Not when he was still weak from nearly drowning.
    I started swimming as fast as I could, straight up toward the surface. Now that I was free of the manacles, I tried to shift to mermaid so that my tail could propel me faster. But the injuries to my ankles were too severe—my body wouldn’t let me shift. So I focused all my attention, all my power, on swimming as fast as I could, thankful that I didn’t have to stop every thirty feet to adjust to the change in pressure. I might be in a human body, but I was still mermaid and I was built for this kind of rapid surfacing.
    I hit the air less than two minutes after I’d started swimming full out. I looked around frantically, even as the combination of air and salt water made my eyes burn. It didn’t take me long to figure out that my dad was nowhere in sight and that the shore was much farther away than I had anticipated.
    I remembered the explosion blowing me sideways when I’d let all that energy loose, but I hadn’t realized just how far it had pushed me. Ignoring the pain in my ankles and my hands, I struck out toward shore. But I couldn’t go as fast as I would have liked, not when I was screaming for my father every few yards that I covered.
    Please let him be okay. Please don’t let anything have happened to him. Let him have gone back to shore. Let him be safe.
    The words ran through my head like a mantra as I pleaded with the universe, with God, with the ocean itself, to spare my father’s life. I’d already caused my mother’s death. If it turned out I’d done the same to my dad, I would be finished. Done. Broken.
    As I swam, I scanned the shore, desperate for a glimpse of my father. For some little glimmer of hope that told me he was okay. But there was nothing, the beach completely deserted beneath the glow of the lamps that lined the border where street met sand.
    The storm was growing closer—I could all but taste it in the air around me. Though the thunder and lightning hadn’t started, the wind had definitely picked up. It was making the waves stronger, choppier, and I had to fight harder than ever to make progress against the simmering sea.
    I kept going, kept swimming, kept calling out for my dad. I was fighting the waves and the wind and what felt like Mother Nature herself, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did but finding my father. Making sure he was safe. That he felt the same way about me, I was certain, and it terrified me. Kept me going when any other time I might have just dived deep, where thesurface conditions wouldn’t have such a strong effect on the water.
    I was hysterical as I approached the shore, tears pouring down my face while sobs racked my body. I had done this. With my screwed-up life and the enemies that just wouldn’t let me go, I had led us to this. I had led him to this.
    I brushed the tears out of my eyes, tried to see through my swollen lids. I scanned the beach, once, twice, and after I was certain he wasn’t there, I turned back toward the roiling, unforgiving ocean and prepared to dive deep. I wasn’t leaving until I’d found my father. I couldn’t, no matter how many miles of ocean I had to search.
    But as I turned, bright purple lights to the left of me caught my eye. I turned toward them, saw that they were in lines, in the shape of a board. My surfboard! It was there, and something, some one, was draped over it.
    I took off toward the board, hoping, praying, that I was also heading straight for my father. As I got closer, I started to scream his name again, praying that he would answer. For the longest time, nothing happened, and then I heard his voice, heard him calling my name. He sounded weak, exhausted, but he was alive. That was all that mattered.
    I started swimming faster, ignoring the pain and the fear, pushing forward to get to my dad. He was paddling the surfboard toward me as well, and, frightened that he