“But I’m trying to imitate the whale spouts. Wait, I’m going to do it again. Tell me if I’m close . . .” She dipped back under, rolling again and again in the green glass brilliance of the sea, then let those bright expansive notes burst up again and spill out through the water. This time the plumes were airier, broader, full of froth and the resonance of mist. She held the song while the jets of water fanned up above her, white and fresh as the clouds of geese flying in formation. She thought the effect was almost perfect, and she let herself float gently to the surface, face-up, watching the far-off shimmer of a million wings.

“Luce!” She swung around, and her heart stopped when she realized she couldn’t see the rowboat anywhere. Bizarrely, she couldn’t really see anything in that direction: only a gray rolling wall, crusted white with barnacles, like something in a dream. Trying to understand it was like trying to read a book as the paper suddenly darkened and the letters crawled away. And, Luce realized with horror, Dorian was somehow behind this thing, or inside it . . .

The broad gray flukes cleft the air, lofting a shower of sunlit water with them, and Luce heard her own cry of relief. Why hadn’t she understood that it was only one of the gray whales, maybe coming over to investigate the peculiar music she’d been making? The rowboat was rocking wildly just behind the place where the whale had disappeared, and Luce rushed over. Dorian was gripping the edge of the boat so hard that his hands looked like knotted rope. His face was white with shock, and he gazed at Luce and then past her as if he could barely comprehend what he was seeing. His breath jerked out, fast and uneven. Luce covered his hands with hers, squeezing gently, and then he finally looked into her eyes.

“Dorian, what happened? I couldn’t see you for a minute.”

“It just—” He seemed to be searching for words. “Luce, the way it looked at me . . . The whale was suddenly right there, and I saw its eye come up, and it looked at me so hard. I mean, I’ve never had a person look at me like that. And then your voice was in my head, and it felt like I was exploding . . .” Dorian shook himself and laughed a little, but he sounded shaky.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone . . .”

“No, it was fine. It— You know how you said that time that only humans think they’re realer than everything else? The way that whale looked at me, I felt like it was a lot realer than I am.” Golden strands of light reflected off the water and wobbled on the curves of his face; his full lips were parted.