Page 86 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“They’re called orcas, Callum. And there aren’t any big predators here.”

“How can ye be certain? I read about it before I picked you up. There are thirty shark species off the coast of Washington.Thirty, Jory. Thirty kinds of sharks. And kill—Orcas. They’re everywhere. And ye just disappeared and I didnae ken what had happened and?—”

“Shhhh,” she said into his ear, squeezing his neck from behind. “There’s nothing here.”

“Buthowcan ye be so sure?”

“Well, because unlike you, I can actually sense them. And there isn’t a predator for miles.”

“Why not?”

“Because of you and Nat. You’re much more threatening predators than any shark. They know that.”

Callum tipped his head back, pressing it against her shoulder, treading water with his arms and keeping them easily afloat.

“Is the big, scary vampire afraid of a little shark?” Jory teased against his neck.

He’d been a sailor. He’d seen shadows below the surface. Mangled fish on the end of a hook. He’d developed what he considered a healthy respect for the mysteries below the surface.

He’d gotten the idea for night surfing at Hank and Esther’s bonfire weeks before. Nat had been raving about how much fun it was, and Jory had actually cracked a smile. Which wasn’t saying much ordinarily. She’d always been quick to smile. But that night? With the fury radiating off of her like smoke? A reluctant smile had been like a beacon in the fog.

Callum had found the idea of swimming in deep, pitch-black water in the middle of the night about as appealing as removing his own appendix with Play-Doh tools. But Jory had smiled—actually, honest-to-gods smiled—when Nat had described the rush of night surfing. And because Callum would do literally anything in the world to make Jory smile, he’d asked Nat to give them a lesson.

He’d agreed on one condition.

“I’m gonna be going to these meetings with you, and I can’t stand next to you in that damn five-thousand-dollar suit wearing my park ranger uniform or sweatpants.”

“Ten thousand,” Callum had coughed uncomfortably.

“Fine. Ten thousand.Ten thousand? Oh, you asshole. You fucking asshole. Ten thousand? What the hell’s it made from? The hairs of vestal virgins or something? Jesus.”

“You dinnae have to spend ten thousand, Nat.”

“Well, that’s good. Because I literally can’t.”

“It is a bit… ostentatious,” Callum had admitted.

“You think?”

By that point, Nat had been pacing back and forth across the cabin floor. Meanwhile, Robbie had been tossing popcorn into the air and catching it in his mouth on the couch, not a care in the world.

“How about this?” Callum offered. “I’ll kit you out in a business wardrobe and promise never to tell ye how much any of it costs.”

“I’ll see the labels.”

“I’ll cut the labels out.”

“No,” Nat had blurted out, looking sheepish. “I… I don’t want you to cut them.”

Eventually, Nat had settled down enough to sit back down in the chair, to tell Callum what colors he liked, what styles he thought he might prefer. Callum had taken measurements with a tape measure that Robbie produced from his backpack. And they’d shaken on it. Callum would buy him some suits but would buy them at “normal-person stores,” as Nat had put it. And in exchange, Nat would take Callum and Jory into the freezing ocean in the middle of the night and teach them to stand up on a piece of fiberglass. On top of a wave. That was moving. With living things underneath it.

He was rubbish. Nat wasn’t wrong. Callum’s balance on a surfboard was shit.

He had no trouble paddling out or even hoisting himself to stand. Those things required strength, of which he had superhuman plenty. But the keeping his feet under him while a wave hurtled him forward felt like trying to stand still when one’s legs were made of Jell-O.

He took some smug satisfaction, however, in the fact that Jory wasn’t faring much better. Unlike him, however, Jory was a good sport. She would fall off her board with flailing arms and legs, like a drunk starfish being flung into the water, but then pop up laughing, cheering herself on that she would “definitely get it next time.”

Callum, on the other hand, was not used to being bad at things. Even as a mortal, he’d been one of those people who never really had to work all that hard for proficiency. Now, he had the added benefit of super strength, super speed, elevated senses. Some days he felt like more machine than man. An unbreakable shell carrying around an emptiness where a beating heart was supposed to go. He could do anything.