“That’s disgusting,” Gwen says. “No one will ever kiss you with those lips.”
Layla snorts, still waving at Arion’s retreating ship. “His lips have been worse places.”
“As much as I’ve enjoyed time with you…” Gwen tugs on the same clothes she’s been wearing for three whole days and grimaces. “I’m going to sleep somewhere decent that doesn’t smell of mead and urchin.”
“Come on, Gwen,” I urge. “You don’t want to go on the carousel?”
“The wooden horses with the manic eyes and open mouths as if they’re frozen in terror? Thank you, but I’d much rather take a ride on our Shark Guard.” She waves halfheartedly. “I will find you when the sun comes up.”
I wonder out loud, “Where does she go?”
“The princesses have their own land-stay,” Kurt says. “It’s irritatingly pink.”
“How would you know?” I ask.
He frowns. “I’ve delivered messages there. That’s why.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Enough, you two,” Thalia says. She points at the lit-up rides of Luna Park. “Is that normal?”
“What’s normal?” Layla shrugs.
“The rides?” I point. “Maybe it’s a new summer thing they’re trying. Usually they’re shut down at ten p.m.”
“What are you talking about?” Layla stares down at the boardwalk. “I just see creaky old rides.”
A group of kids brown-bagging bottles walk toward us. I wave them down. “Hey, yo. What’s going on at the park tonight?”
One of them, with a Mets baseball cap and an angry scowl, turns to where I’m pointing. Then back to me. He laughs. “You’re tripping, man. I want whatever you’re on.”
They collapse in tipsy laughter and brush past us.
“Come on.” I take Layla’s hand, stomping down the boardwalk. It’s strange being here in the dead of night when all of my days here have been full of sun. The moon is a fat ball in the sky, swollen like the bruise on my cheek.
“This is how all the Scooby Doo episodes go wrong,” Layla says, giving my hand a squeeze.
The usual entrance to Luna Park is crowded by a line of large ravens. They caw and walk along the fence like precarious guards. I take Layla’s hand and pull her in through the entrance. The instant she’s in, she gasps, “Oh!”
Spinning rides light the boardwalk. The Wonder Wheel spins, and from down here, I can see girls with glittering wings waving.
“Fairies can fly,” Thalia says. “Why do they even bother?”
“It’s part of the Coney Island experience,” I argue.
“Figures.” Layla stands in front of the carousel. “The only ride I like isn’t even on.”
We pass a food stand manned by a young guy with powdery pink skin and gold hair. His smile is so bright that I have to look away.
“Can I interest you in some sweets?” He waves at a selection of candied popcorn, pretzels, sanguine chocolates, and golden apples.
“What is sanguine chocolate?” I ask.
Suddenly I feel a wind chill at my side. It settles on my shoulder with mild gloom. My heart jumps to my throat when I realize it’s a person. Sort of.
Frederik, the only vampire I’ve ever met who rocks long black hair and Hawaiian shirts, is standing right beside me. “Ian, I don’t believe the Sea Prince likes blood chocolate.”
I put the blood-chocolate box back on the cart and decide I’m not hungry, leaving Ian selling the same box to a pale girl no taller than my hip.
“Damn, Frederik,” I shout. “That’s creepy as hell.”
Frederik shoves his hands in his long shorts pockets. He shrugs. “Wasn’t my intention to startle you, little merman. Just saying hi.”
Layla points at the swinging pirate-ship ride. “Are those Vikings?”
“Demigods,” Frederik corrects. “Just called them in. After the incident this Friday, the Thorne Hill Alliance feels we need extra protection details until the Sea People are done with their championship.”
I don’t like where this is going. “Wish I had better news for you, dude.”
“Then I suppose we’ll all enjoy the summer solstice festivities in the meantime,” he says, turning to the girls. “Did I hear you say you wanted to go on the carousel?”
“Uhh—”
“Really, it’s no bother.”
Without being asked, the conductor comes out of a nearby ticket booth. His gait is forced, like he’s trying to be calm when the energy around him is more wound up than Principal Quinn after the girls’ soccer team went on a no-sports-bra strike until they got the same funding as the boys.
“Everyone,” Frederik says, “this is Patrick.”
“Heywhatsup?” Patrick says in one breath. He’s tall and lanky, borderline anorexic, with hair down to his hips and an unkempt beard. He can’t be more than twenty and definitely human and definitely shit-scared of Frederik by the way he never quite looks the vampire in the eyes.
“Do you think you could hook my friends up by turning on the carousel?”
The question is a formality. I can sense the tension in the command. Patrick goes to the ride, sticks in a key, and pulls a lever. He waits for Layla and Thalia to hop on. Even Kurt joins them, but I have a feeling that’s more because of his disdain for vampires than his curiosity about carnival rides. The lights come alive, along with the twinkling song I’ve heard all my life. The white hides of the horses are dirty and some of the bulbs are burned out, but the carousel still has the same cool effect.
“Thanks, dude,” I say, about to pat Frederik on the back, but then I think better of it. “Did you just Dracula Patrick into submission?”
“He’s a friend. Of sorts.”
“Meaning?”
“His sister got…turned this winter. In front of him. I’ve been trying to help them acclimate.”
Oh. Suddenly I can’t get that image out of my head. “That’s decent of you.”
“Believe me, it’s not easy watching your sister turn into this,” he says. When I wait for him to elaborate, he doesn’t, and we keep leaning against the railing in front of the carousel. I breathe in the Coney Island air, the lingering cigarette smoke, virgin piña coladas spilled on the ground, the spun sugar of cotton candy.
“Where’s your other half?” I ask.
“If you’re referring to Marty McKay,” Frederik says, “that shapeshifter and I aren’t on speaking terms for the next hour and a half. He spilled my O-Neg slushie and is trying to find me another. You try getting that in the middle of the night when everyone is out partying.”
“That’s tough.”
“It’s tragic, actually. I’m still hungry.” Frederik turns his dark eyes to me. Then he smiles. “Don’t look like that. I wouldn’t bite the future Sea King. I’m the High Vampire of New York. It’d be bad politics.”
I laugh. “I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”
“I take it things didn’t go so well on your journey?” He nods at a pale, brooding couple walking past. The guy is carrying an oversized blue monkey as a carnival prize. Everyone who walks past Frederik stops for the briefest moment to acknowledge him. It’s what I used to feel in the hallways at school.
“Things could’ve gone better,” I say.
“Do you ever think everything happens just as it should?”
“Like that ‘meant to be’ crap? Hell no. If that were true, I’d be sitting around waiting for someone to put a fork in my hand and a crown on my head.”
“Good man.” He pats a cold hand on my back. “Where do you go from here?”
“Well, there are a few things I could do to advance my standing as champion.” All these lights are making me sweat. “I’m not sure how to go about it just yet.”
“I’ve been researching your people since you arrived unannounced.”
“Listen, bro,” I press my hands on my chest defensively. “I’ve been here since I was born.”
“Very well, since the court arrived. All I know of your kind are the la
ndlocked and the old man under the bridge. Not to mention those terrible creatures that attacked your school and the Sea Breeze community. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.”
“Those creatures,” I say, “are called merrows. They’re getting stronger. Just a heads-up.”
“We’ve got more of us patrolling the city. But those creatures are not the only thing you should worry about.”
My stomach plummets five flights when he says that. “What do you mean?”
“The landlocked of your court worry me. They’ve always been quiet, but Marty’s noticed them meeting more often.”
“Meeting? Like, together?”
“Yes.” He sighs. “Together is usually how people meet.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Why is that bad?”
“It is my understanding that the landlocked have never had a voice at the Sea Court before. It is not my place to tell you what to do. But you may want to investigate.”
Over on the carousel, the music gets louder. The girls shout, switching horses and holding their hands up. Frederik sniffs the air like he smells something foreign he can’t place, then ignores it.
“Each of the landlocked is different,” I say. “Some, like my mother, were stripped of their tails and left to live on land. Others were banished as a punishment. They pay tithes every time Toliss Island coasts to a new shore in exchange for protection from creatures here, but they’re second-class citizens of the mer world.”
“I was a duke once,” Frederik says matter-of-factly. Something about the way he speaks and holds his posture makes me totally able to picture that. “When the forgotten rise up, it is never good for the crown.”
“Not that I mind,” I say, “but why are you so helpful?”
“You remind me of someone I used to know.” He turns his attention behind me, toward the boardwalk. “I have a soft spot for lost causes.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Just think on what I’ve told you. We don’t ask for these burdens. It’s just the price.”
“Price for what?”
“Being better men.”
The carousel slows to a stop. A new wave of thrilled screams and giggles chime along with the bright lights and trilling music. In the distance, sirens blare and cars honk. That good ol’ Brooklyn lullaby. After two nights at sea, I’d started to miss the noise.
“Ahh,” Frederik says with the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him. His teeth are slightly yellowed, but even so, I feel strangely pulled into the angular lines of his face. He brushes his thick, black hair away. “I thought I smelled sunshine.”
For the first time, I notice the familiar set of faces walk past us. Unintentionally, I turn around.
“Friends of yours?” Frederik grins at the mermaid princesses.
I try to compose my face, get rid of the gore and exhaustion of the last couple of days. I want to channel my cousin Brendan or a little of the guy I used to be. When I turn around, Princess Sarabell and her girls have made a beeline for us.
“Remember that thing I can do to further myself?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Here they come.”
His stoic features are a mess of shock, then sheer amusement.
“Hello, ladies.” The High Vampire of the Hawaiian Shirt bows low. I don’t know much about genuflection and shit like that, but that looks pretty legit, even for a guy who was a duke a couple hundred years ago.
Sarabell holds out a hand, and without missing a beat, Fred McCool Guy kisses it. Her face is orgasmic, all giggles and sighs. Then she realizes I’m standing right here and she composes herself.
“How did you fare, Lord Sea?” Sarabell says to me. Her amber eyes glow under the theme-park lights. Brown ringlets of her hair look soft and silky, and the breeze blows them everywhere, carrying her sweet scent of brown sugar.
“Uh—”
“I’d love to hear of your journeys.”
I wish Frederik would smack me upside the head. At the same time, I thank the gods that Brendan isn’t here to watch me make a fool of myself. I am Tristan Hart. Never have I ever had a girl reject me, and on a scale of one to ten, Sarabell is an eleven. But she’s not my eleven.
Then Brendan’s voice is in my ear saying, “Her cousin is a champion. Pump her for information.”
Not literally.
Then, as Sarabell glances awkwardly from me to Fred to her entourage to fill the void of Tristan Hart’s ultimate choke moment, I tell myself this is for the greater good.
“Why don’t we go out?” Smooth. “I’ll tell you about it. Later. When we’re out.”
I have the sudden urge to seppuku myself and spare us all the indignity.
“Tomorrow afternoon?” Her mouth is so sweet. “We can go for a swim?”
“Sure,” I go. “Sounds good.”
Sarabell shakes off the confusion and takes my fumble for sheer adoration. She dips in a girly bow and takes my hand, looking up at me with her amber eyes. “You won’t regret it.”
At once, they’re gone, and I throw myself against the fence behind us.
Frederik is staring at me. “I was under the impression that you were skilled with the fairer sex.”
“Were,” I say, “is the key word. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Layla, Thalia, and Kurt hop off their white steeds, and as they walk back to us, Frederik glances from me to Layla and says, “I think I know.”
Layla is holding Kurt and Thalia’s hands. “Aww, look. Tristan got himself a date.”
“She’s Adaro’s cousin, you know,” Kurt says. “Perhaps you can find out if he saw the oracle at the cove.”
I grit my teeth. “I know.”
Layla’s face is beet red. “Are you guys going to an underwater drive-in? Park on the back of a shark-drawn chariot?”
Frederik takes one step closer to her and smells her. Layla leans back but not without blushing at his dumb vampire perfection. “Jealousy suits you,” he says. “Your blood is boiling.”
Kurt crosses his arms over his chest. “We don’t have chariots.”
Then Frederik turns to the boardwalk, nose up in the air. “Ahh. Early sunrise. My least favorite part of the summer. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”
I reach out to take his hand. He stares at me as if I’m holding a wooden stake and a hammer.
“Don’t forget what I’ve told you tonight,” he says.
As he stalks away through the flickering red archway, the first ravens take flight.
My sleep is restless.
Full of sharp teeth and claws and screaming. Frederik standing under the Brooklyn Bridge saying, “Hurry.” He faces away and then I’m back on Arion’s ship. Archer calls to me and I drive my dagger through his heart. He melts away and Nieve rises from inside him.
When I open my eyes, my whole face is swollen. Morning-after pain is always the worst. In the shower, my muscles unknot, and bruises bloom all over my skin where the tentacles sucked on me going down the well. After I get dressed, I take out a bag of frozen peas and hold it over my right knuckles.
Kurt comes in and grabs a stool beside me. “You have to use both hands.”
“I’ll just add ‘become ambidextrous’ to my to-do list.” I wince when I stretch out my fingers. “Get any sleep?”
“Hardly.” He stares at me for a bit, starts to say something, but changes his mind.
I hate when people do that. “Just spit it out. What?” “You were talking in your sleep.”
I chuckle. “What did I say?”
“Brother.” Kurt takes the frozen peas from me and presses the bag to his cheek where a merrow got a really good hit. “You kept saying, ‘Brother.’”
“Yeah, well. Archer’s not easy to forget.”
I get up and stand in front of our Command Central wall. While we were gone, my parents added a calendar, crossing off the days to the championship. It’s Monday morning. I can hear my dad in the shower getting ready for work. My mom gets up just af
ter he does and makes breakfast. On a regular day, I’d swing by Layla’s house and we’d take the train, picking up the rest of our team on the way.
The marker bleeds through the white paper and I think of the merrow blood dripping. “Why hasn’t she killed me?”
Kurt returns the soggy peas to the freezer. “I would think you’d be glad she hasn’t.”
I laugh, straining against the pinch in my abs. “I just—I hate that I can feel her. That for some reason she wants me. Her magic…it’s like this force. Like the nautilus maid. Like she could turn me into a puppet with just her will, but she’d rather toy with me instead.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Kurt says darkly. “That was part of her seduction. She made you feel what she wanted you to.”
“Sounds like a party.”
“I don’t have an answer for you.” He runs his hands through his hair. “She’s before my time. All I know are stories.”
“Then guess.”
He sits for a moment. Rays of sunlight break through a patch of clouds and illuminate the kitchen. “Power. The throne. It’s what she wanted the first time. You are so very different from the other mermen competing. Perhaps she wants you on her side. You are the only champion with a third of the trident, and you’re of her family.”
I scratch the inside of my elbows, suddenly feeling like she’s in my veins. “Or she’s just after all the champions, and she’s going to take us out one by one.”
“That too.”
Suddenly my mom walks into the kitchen and pulls us into bonecrushing hugs. Her red hair gets all over my face, and I breathe her scents in deeply—powder and roses and somehow always something of the sea, like she never left.
“Bruises.” I groan. “They hurt.”
“We’ve been so worried.” Her bright turquoise eyes search my face like I just fell off the monkey bars and make me feel selfconscious in front of Kurt.
For a long time we don’t say anything else.
She turns on the TV in the kitchen. The morning news is reporting a dead boy on the beach this morning. The footage is dark and grainy. They interview a homeless woman who used the pay phone when she saw the kids screaming on the beach. The reporter comes back on. Despite her neat lady suit, the reporter has hair that’s messed up like she got a call and rolled out of bed. She’s standing on the Manhattan side of a bridge.
The Savage Blue Page 9
