The Teeth in the Tide

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  Kissing Kestra had been like flying. Like tasting the stars in the sky. Like sparkling sunlight erasing the dark of long years undersea.

  She was so unbearably soft. Hair like liquid night, skin like the down of the baby moorlins in the hawk-master’s home. During the kiss, every particle of Rake, human-shaped or not, clamored to be touching her. The pull was so strong he’d barely been able to let her walk away. But of course he did, because he knew what it was to be forced.

  When she had called herself Flay’s “one and only,” an ache started in Rake’s chest, as if a central piece of him had cracked apart. He could feel it now, a dull, relentless pain. He massaged his chest with his fingers, considering. His other hand fumbled at his waist, finding the lever and clasp of the belt. He fought the unreasonable urge to slip it off, to turn back into himself and leap over the side of the ship into the churning sea. Out here, he wouldn’t have anything to fear from merlows. There would be sharks and other creatures yearning for his flesh, but he could avoid those. Maybe he and Jewel could live out here alone someday, far from humans and mermaids alike.

  Alone.

  The word tasted bitter. He’d been alone all his life—even in the teeming nursery, amid the throng of other males, out in the far reaches of the Realm Below, and in the presence of the Queens. Always alone, until Jewel. Jewel was his spawn, and he enjoyed his company; but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. More people to talk to, to learn from. To touch.

  The image of Flay and Kestra glowed in his mind again, bright and clear as daylight. He almost smiled, wondering what the Horror would exchange for this memory. Though the Horror had never been enamored of humans and their bodies as Rake had. Perhaps it wouldn’t care for the scene at all. “Two humans mating,” it would say. “What of it?”

  “It’s not only the mating,” Rake imagined himself responding. “It’s what they feel, what it means. The love inside them, shining out. I want it, and I cannot have it.”

  It was as simple and as painful as that.

  I want it. And I cannot have it.

  But his soul warmed in spite of himself, because perhaps one day that could be him. Not with Kestra, but with—someone. Tenderness. Selflessness. Real love, as Kestra had described it.

  He stayed on deck a long time before finally wandering below. He’d been offered a bunk, but he preferred the swinging cloth called a hammock. Its gentle motion reminded him of the sea grass in his sleeping alcove.

  Before sleep came, Rake pictured Jewel, safe back in the village with Takajo. He trusted the hawk-master to care for his son—the man had a respect for and knowledge of living things that seemed to extend even to monsters.

  Rake wondered how Takajo and Jewel were passing the days. Caring for the birds and training them, no doubt. And Takajo had a painted board with decorated tiles that he’d called a game—perhaps he would teach it to Jewel...

  A wave of saltwater crashed over Rake’s face, and he startled awake, muscles tensing and claws rigid. “What? Why?”

  “Morning!” Flay said cheerfully. “The sun is high, and we’ve just entered the Forbidden Zone. Time to start searching for your Horror’s monster friends.”

  Rake flung wet hair back from his forehead. “That shouldn’t be too difficult. By the image in my head, I would judge that this thing—or things—would be hard to hide. I’ll take a swim and look around.”

  “Fantastic.” Flay grinned wider. “Oh, and one more thing. Don’t kiss Kestra again. Or touch her. Or think about her. Yes? Good. Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” Rake snagged Flay’s sleeve with a claw. “She told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re—angry? Jealous?”

  “Jealous?” Flay smirked. “Of a gorgeous piece of fish-flesh like you? Not at all.”

  “Oh.” Rake touched his own chest. “I think I am jealous. Does it feel like pain? Like wanting someone you can’t have so badly your heart hurts?”

  Flay’s face shifted, his eyes sobering. “No, that’s—that would be love. Or more correctly, heartbreak.”

  “Heartbreak.” Rake nodded. “Yes, that sounds right. Thank you.”

  Flay gave a short, sharp laugh. “Life keeps knocking you around, eh? Wait until all this is over. You and I will drink, and I’ll introduce you to a few of the village girls. Odds are one of them will be able to look past the gills and the claws, and the huge eyes and the teeth and—” He trailed off, grimacing. “Well, we can try.”

  After a quick breakfast, Flay, Rake, and Kestra left the Wind’s Favor in a smaller boat which Jazadri called a skiff. Rake left his belt aboard ship in Jazadri’s care, and he lay awkwardly across the bottom of the skiff as the sailors lowered it down in short, jerky bursts. His tail took up most of the space, and despite his efforts, his broad fin kept brushing against Kestra’s arm.

  “Sorry about the tail,” he said.

  “No matter.” She barely glanced at the fin, more occupied with darting panicked glances at the ocean as the skiff neared its surface.

  “At least it isn’t sharp,” said Rake, trying to distract her. “Acrid has spikes along her tailfin. They are no fun, I assure you. Fun for her, maybe. Not for others.”

  “She sounds delightful,” quipped Flay dryly. “Now, Rake, we’ll row a little way from the ship, and then you swim as far as you like to look for this creature. We’ll wait here. If you don’t find anything, come back, and we’ll take the Wind’s Favor a bit farther and search another section of the Forbidden Zone.”

  “A good plan.” Rake peered over the edge of the skiff, eager for the chance to swim in open sea, with no mermaids anywhere nearby.

  Within seconds, the bottom of the skiff splashed against the waves, and Flay unfastened the ropes securing it to the Wind’s Favor. He picked up the oars and began to row. Rake had to bend forward to avoid being bumped by each stroke, and the position brought him closer to Kestra than he’d been since their kiss. She looked to the right, to the left—anywhere but directly at him. Still, he caught her stealing glances at his golden scales, each one rimmed with rich amber, and at the translucent blue fin fanned out beside her.

  Never had Rake been so pleased to know he was beautiful.

  “This should be far enough,” said Flay. “Still within earshot of the ship. Right then, Rake—in you go.”

  “I’ll return as soon as I can.” With a powerful flex of his tail and torso, Rake launched himself out of the skiff in a smooth arc. Right before he sliced into the waves, he caught stares of open-mouthed admiration from both Flay and Kestra. The ocean closed over his head, hiding his grin.

  It felt good to be admired instead of feared or abused. To be treated as a worthy ally, instead of a monster—a friend, instead of a soft-brained lesser being, useful only for his contribution to the breeding cycle. The joy of the words—friend, ally—drove him through the sea faster than usual, and he relished the fact that he could swim freely, without fear of merlows or mermidons or queens. He kept a lookout for sharks, though—even with his own jaws and claws, they could pose a serious threat.

  In the sea around Kiken Island, only the most poisonous, clever, or well-camouflaged creatures survived the endless hunt of the mermaids and their spawn. Here, the ocean teemed with life. Schools of fish rippled past him—tiny slim ones with luminescent ribbons along their sides; huge, beautiful ones swimming alone, their fins and tails broad and dazzlingly colored; fat silver ones that made his mouth water for their slabs of pink flesh. A small octopus pushed itself away from him, its eight tentacles contracting and straightening with each stroke. He’d never seen a live one.

  And then a massive shadow passed between him and the surface, and he looked up, terrified that it was a shark.

  A broad armored belly floated above him, wide fins waving leisurely, blunt head swiveling from side to side.

  A sea turtle.

  He gazed at it, awestruck, and before it swam away he surged ahead and reached up, stroking the smooth shell.

  Never ha
d he seen so much life, so much richness, but guilt for his entire race shadowed his soul, souring his enjoyment. He sped forward, pushing his sorrow aside and focusing on his goal. If he could find the great monster and convince it to come back with him, he could cleanse the blight of his race—give the ocean time to recover, offer the guiltless spawn the chance to live a more balanced life. Less consumption, more care for the wealth around them.

  Long he swam, until his arms and tail began to tire—and then, in the murky distance, he saw it. An immense, dark mound, large as an undersea mountain, protruding from a broad wound in the sea floor. From that vast, mountainous bulk floated soft voices, thready and faint, dreamlike echoes of the voice he usually heard when he visited the Bone Trench.

  He slunk close enough to see that the enormous mass consisted of separate jointed plates of armor—hard-shelled creatures clustering over their softer counterparts to form a protective shell. Between the cracks of the armor, glimmers of unearthly purple light appeared, the gleam of nerve clusters and flickering brain matter.

  His heartbeat quickened with the prickling awareness of his own tiny size. He was nothing at all compared to this creature—a speck of plankton daring to approach a mighty whale.

  Rake slithered to a spot where the light seemed stronger, where he could hear the mind-voices more clearly. With his own thoughts, he called out to them.

  “I’ve come with a message from one of your own, long lost and aching to return to you.”

  He thought the same words over and over, until the murmur of those mind-voices focused into something sharper and clearer.

  Through the gaps in the entity’s shell slipped several translucent tentacles, glittering with star-like spots. In his head, Rake heard a new voice, soft and clear.

  “We are not all awake. But I will hear your message, and then I will consume your mind.”

  “You must not consume me,” Rake warned. “Your lost companion is a friend of mine, and promised my safety.”

  A trickle of amusement passed from the creature. “Our kind do not make friends of fish-scum.”

  “Search my memories, and you will see. But leave my mind intact, or risk breaking the contract I made with your old companion.”

  The tentacles whipped forward, striking him, lashing his body with pain. He’d been through it before with the Horror in the Bone Trench, but this time the agony seemed more acute, the paralysis more rapid. The tentacles drew him closer to the armored shell, and the plates of it shifted and separated, revealing a glutinous bulge of flesh with a dozen winking eyes and a suction mouthpart that he recognized all too well.

  He forced himself to design a cohesive thought in spite of the shock of the toxin along his nerves. “Does your kind have a sense of honor?”

  Again the flicker of amusement, touched with anger. “Does yours? Your kind did not welcome us when we emerged from Beneath. You gnawed at us, wounded us, ripped us apart. And now you dare to challenge us with a concept such as honor?”

  “At least you must believe in the law of exchange. Giving something, and receiving something else in return.”

  “It is a concept foundational to the universe.”

  “I have such an arrangement with your counterpart. You’d do well to respect it.”

  “We will see the truth, after we have consumed your memories.”

  Helpless, Rake watched the undulating mouthpiece draw nearer, nearer, until it latched onto his head. A cascade of memories rushed from his brain into the monster’s. Light flashed behind his eyes; pain pounded through his head and along his spine.

  Anguish—sickening, cloying, all-consuming.

  No more thought. No more words. Only torment.

  Pain.

  Pain.

  And then, a groan of longing, not just in his mind but audible, reverberating through the tentacles and the brain of the creature holding him, transferred from its nervous system to hundreds, maybe thousands of other beings in the mass. His agony began to abate, and the monster’s thoughts solidified in his mind.

  “We accept your memories and the bargain you have made. We will avenge ourselves, reunite with our kin, and rid the ocean of this plague.”

  “Not all,” Rake begged, fighting for clarity, for the eloquence he knew the creature would appreciate. “Spare the nurseries, and I give you my word the remaining young will be taught moderation and respect. We will not breed so indiscriminately, nor consume so completely.”

  “I will pass your words to the others,” said the creature. “Our waking will take a little time. Return to your ship, and leave us.”

  The tentacles ushered him away, pushing him out into open water again. Sick and dizzy, he tried to move and found that his tail could barely twitch, and his arms were too weak for an effective stroke.

  Panic rolled through him. He’d be easy prey for any predator that might come along.

  The sibilant voice wove more words in his mind. “We will protect you until you are beyond our reach. If a creature should try to take you, we will take it. It has been ages since we last ate.” The voice deepened, a primal, throaty growl. “And we are hungry.”

  -23-

  Kestra

  Kestra felt raw and exposed being this close to the ocean’s surface. The sea was calm, its ripples bouncing the skiff gently, but it still made her anxious. She wrapped her hands tightly around the edge of the skiff’s bench. Why had she volunteered to come along for this? Flay had made it sound so pleasant—just the two of them, bobbing in the boat on the sparkling waves, enjoying the sunshine—but the reality was more stressful, more boring, and hotter than she had expected. Flay had spent a little time teaching her to fish, but the first two they caught were so fat their scaly bodies filled the entire bucket, and that was the end of the lesson.

  She and Flay sat across from each other, with the fish bucket between them, so there was no chance of a kissing session to pass the time—especially not with Flay’s crew peering at them occasionally over the railing of the Wind’s Favor. Doubtless the men would have enjoyed a show, but she was in no mood to give them one.

  “It’s been a couple of hours,” she said tersely. “Do you think Rake found the creature yet?”

  “Possibly,” said Flay. “The Forbidden Zone is quite an expanse, and I imagine he had to go deep.”

  “But the thing is huge. He should have found it by now.” She couldn’t stay still any longer. She started jiggling her knee in place, a rapid rhythm that soothed her agitation and fed it at the same time.

  Flay seemed more relaxed than ever, his hat on his knee and his head tipped back, eyes closed, throat exposed to the sun’s beams. He even trailed his hand in the water briefly, bringing his fingers back up shiny and dripping. “Why so tense, love? Can’t swim?”

  “I can. I’ve swum in the river before. And every second solstice all the villagers aged sixteen to twenty-five travel to the mountain lake for a midnight swim. I’m not the best at swimming, but I can manage.”

  “Then what scares you? No mermaids out here.”

  “But there are gale-sharks. Pike-eels. Other things.”

  He grinned. “You are the oddest mix of courage and anxiety that I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thanks,” she spat.

  “Blossom, it’s not a bad thing.” He leaned forward. “If you were flawless, you wouldn’t be so fascinating. So real.” He pried one of her hands from the bench and held it in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, stroking her palm with a feather-light touch that skittered along her nerves. How was he so good with those fingers of his? He made her want him with the most innocent of touches.

  She looked up, meeting those dancing blue eyes, full of mischief and awareness. Maybe not so innocent, after all.

  And then Flay slid out of focus as Kestra’s ears caught a cry of alarm from the ship—as her eyes fixed on a face behind Flay’s shoulder. A face with short purple hair and skin freckled in violet and blue. Sharp-nailed hands reached over the edge of the skiff, and before
Kestra could react, the mermaid seized Flay and yanked him into the sea.

  Kestra screamed, scrambling forward. Too slow—Flay had disappeared. Bubbles and foam marked the spot where the mermaid dragged him down.

  She threw a desperate look up at the Wind’s Favor, shrieking for Jazadri until the sailors at the railing scattered to fetch the first mate. Kestra peered over the skiff’s side. She couldn’t see anything through the shifting ripples.

  “Flay!” she cried.

  Gone. He couldn’t be gone.

  Her arms went rigid, her body fighting for self-preservation, combating her impulse to leap into the sea. The river back home had a bottom, and a gate at the end to keep out mermaids. The mountain lake was large, but safe. This—this was the fathomless deep, where gigantic monsters slept. She couldn’t dive in, not knowing what waited.

  But Flay.

  She breathed deeply. Breathed again. And before she could think herself out of the idiocy, she flung herself over the side.

  She sank at once, plunging into a realm of roaring darkness. She tried to open her eyes, tried to listen through the glugging in her ears. Frantically she waved her arms and legs, fighting her way back to the surface. Her face burst through, and she sucked in air.

  I have to calm down. I have to think.

  She beat the water, keeping herself afloat and breathing. Then she dove again.

  This time she opened her eyes.

  The water was murky, the filtered daylight soaking into deep shadow. Nothing. Nothing except a few fish.

  She swam a little way, her eyes burning from the saltwater and from the particles swirling through it. Her lungs began to tighten, so she went up again.

  This time she barely caught a breath before bony fingers clasped her ankle and yanked her down.

  Kestra resisted the urge to scream or fight—it would waste precious air. She let herself be pulled lower until she was at eye level with the purple-haired mermaid.

  The mermaid’s eyes were large, like Rake’s, but they gleamed bright pink, with black splotches for pupils. Grinning, she clutched Kestra’s chin and pulled her closer, forcing Kestra’s jaws open and shoving a hard metal mouthpiece between her lips. The mermaid clasped the contraption behind Kestra’s head, locking it in place.