Wild Blue Under

by Judi Fennell

  He hated that they even had to have this conversation.

  “Who’s behind this, Charley?” Fisher reached for his wife’s hand as she drifted in from the reef garden she’d retreated to after they’d received the communiqué confirming JR’s involvement. She’d demanded answers, answers Fisher didn’t have. He’d invited Charley to their home to include her in the discussion.

  Kai allowed him to pull her closer, her jittery tail flukes belying the serenity on her face.

  Zeus. He would never have expected this of JR.

  Although…

  He’d known that fishing-net accident would come back to haunt them, but there’d been nothing he could have done at the time. No Mer Rescue Teams had been dispatched to save JR’s mate because Humans had been all over the deck of that ship.

  Charley rested his flukes on the bristly, hedgehog-shaped Human artifact that Angel insisted on keeping by the sofa. He shoved his spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose. “We don’t know who hired JR. Nigel swears he knows nothing, and the gods are mum on the subject.”

  “What about Drake?” Kai asked, her beautiful, seal-brown hair tied back at her neck, a sure sign she was worried. She’d barely eaten this morning and her knitting lay in a heap beside the sculpture in the entranceway instead of by her favorite seat.

  “Drake?” Fisher and Charley replied together.

  “Yes. Nigel’s son. Why is that so surprising? He is next in line now.” Kai’s grip tightened on Fisher’s, and her scales flashed between a roiling midnight blue and an angry jade green—yet another sign of her anxiety. His normally calm wife usually regulated her tail to match her environment, not her emotions.

  “Drake couldn’t swim his way out of half a clam shell, let alone plan something like this,” Fisher answered—part of the reason, from a succession standpoint, that Rod had to return in one piece. The other part of that reason was so personal it hurt his heart. “The surveillance we’ve had on him says he hasn’t gone anywhere.”

  “I’m so sorry, Kai.” Charley had seen Fisher through many troubling times, but this… this was as bad as when they’d almost lost Reel.

  “Sorry isn’t going to save him, Charley.” His wife’s words were soft, revealing more fear than Fisher had ever seen her exhibit. When Reel had been sent to Ceto’s lair, Kai had all but flayed the scales from his tail, her words carrying throughout Atlantis for hours on the rippling waters. That, he could deal with.

  But this, this quiet, resigned worry. That wasn’t his wife. And Fisher felt just as useless to her as he did to his firstborn.

  He released Kai’s clammy hand to massage the knot from the back of his neck—well, most of it. “Damn it, Charley. You promised me I wasn’t sending him to his death. You said this quest was to keep him safe and to bring her home. That it’d be good for our world. How in Hades can having him land-bound with a limited supply of oil be good for anyone? And with a hired bird on his tail?” Fisher choked on that last word. “Wait. He doesn’t have a tail, Charley.”

  “We weren’t expecting the danger to follow him onto land, Fisher. The trap was in the ocean. Humans don’t know about our existence, so there should have been no threat on land.”

  “Except someone obviously wants him out of the way and went to the lengths of hiring JR.” Fisher shook his head. “How did we let this happen? I thought JR’s retirement account was well funded. He should have no reason to take this assignment.”

  A pufferfish-shaped shadow passed over the octagonal holes ringing the top of the room, the flickering light highlighting Charley’s grimace. “Who knows why JR does what he does? I know he was upset about his mate, but to go against the gods like this…” Charley took off his spectacles, wiping the lenses with a piece of seaweed, then perched them back on his nose. “We’re looking into it, Fisher.”

  “And Rod?” Kai asked, taking a sip of champagne. Fisher hadn’t been surprised to see her open it. It was better than kelp wine for numbing heartache. Well, that was the theory at least. It hadn’t done anything for him back in his office.

  Fisher wanted to enfold her in his arms and assure her everything would be all right. But she wouldn’t believe it any more than he did. Son of a Mer, he never should have sent Rod on this quest.

  He looked away, catching a glimpse of himself in the gilt-framed mirror by the front tunnel entrance. He was too old for this. He’d done his time. If the gods had wanted Valerie back so badly, they should have brought her back themselves. Interceded when Lance Dumere hadn’t been able to. But they hadn’t, and Fisher felt every bit the failure Valerie’s father had.

  He should have been up-front with his son. Should have told him about the rumor. Should have respected Rod’s hard work and determination in preparing for his role as High Councilman instead of seeing him as a child he had to protect by sending him out of harm’s way.

  Puffer swam past the skylight again. The Council’s messenger was always alert, always watching.

  Always looking out for the good of Atlantis—as he should be.

  Zeus! Rod was a man—a damn fine one—and Fisher had done the same thing with Rod that he’d done with Reel: blinded himself to that fact in the face of his fear of losing him.

  Yes, Rod was his son, but he was also the next Mer ruler, and if Fisher didn’t have enough respect for Rod to level with him, how could he expect anyone else to?

  He thought he’d learned his lesson with Reel, but apparently not. And now he—and Kai—and especially Rod, were paying the price.

  “The good news is that The Hybrid has been able to keep them alive,” Charley said.

  “How do we know?” Kai leaned forward, her slender fingers gripping Fisher’s tail so tightly scales came loose beneath her nails.

  “Livingston was in the vehicle with them when JR’s bombs hit.”

  “They were hit?” Kai shot up so fast that she almost crashed into the pink marble ceiling, scattering Fisher’s scales in the water around them and knocking a pod of prawns into the sixteenth-century galleon figurehead he’d given her for their anniversary.

  “Nothing serious, Kai. A fish or two bounced off the vehicle. Valerie outmaneuvered them.”

  “Oh, thank the gods.” She drifted back onto the giant clamshell sofa, the Holothurians adjusting to take her weight without complaint.

  Fisher would increase the sea cucumbers’ plankton rations first thing tomorrow.

  “What about sending Reel to help him?” he suggested. Reel had acclimated himself to living among Humans; perhaps he could find a solution they couldn’t.

  Charley shook his head. “That was my first thought as well, but the gods nixed it. What if someone is looking to annihilate the entire ruling family, Fisher? We have to examine that possibility.”

  Kai inhaled enough water to the point of choking—and it took a lot of water to choke a Mer.

  Fisher patted her on the back. “It’s a good thing he and Erica came here after putting Rod on that plane.”

  Charley nodded. “The girls are being escorted back as well.”

  “But Angel… she’s waited so long for her land study program…” Kai’s linked hands twisted around each other, her knuckles white.

  “She’ll have to wait a little longer, Kai,” Charley answered.

  His Olympian Advisor was taking charge of the situation in a way Fisher had never seen. At Council meetings, Charley had let the other Council members work out issues among themselves, never offering more than a few words or ideas. But now…

  Fisher’s gut clenched. As an Olympian Advisor, Charley had lived longer than any of them. There were rumors he’d been around during the Flood of Atlantis. He had the ear of the gods, conversed with them in ways Fisher had never been able to.

  If the gods were this concerned…

  If JR was willing to go this far…

  “She can do it later, ho
ney.” Fisher put his arm around Kai, ostensibly for her comfort, but, really, he needed her strength to buoy his spirits—because he’d just realized why JR was going after Rod.

  When Fisher had sent Rod among the Humans, he’d done for his son what he hadn’t done for JR’s mate: flouted the rules to protect the one he loved.

  And now JR was paying him back.

  Chapter 21

  Drake zipped across his limestone foyer with two tail flicks and grabbed the electric ray by the neck, shaking it until the thing went limp. “You worthless hunk of chum. Do I have to do everything myself?”

  Oh, Hades, he’d just strangled his chief operative into unconsciousness.

  As the barnacle colony on the lintel abruptly shut up, Drake flung Gonzo’s inert body onto the pile of useless octopi outside his lair. Those damn suckers hadn’t been able to tear the netting between the manatee enclosure and the outside sea so he’d had Gonzo zap them as incentive. In his self-importance, however, the brainless torpere had ramped up the juice, killing the cephalopods.

  The ineptitude boggled the mind.

  Sighing, he started to shut the door when an eye blinked at him from the sandy floor. Oh, Hades.

  Drake flipped that stupid flounder over with the tip of his tail, the spotted body wiggling in a way it’d never been designed to. Tough. That’s what it got for thinking the entrance to his lair was a smart place to set up shop. Incompetents. That’s what he was surrounded with. Clownfish.

  Yanking the door shut with enough force to dislodge the conch family living rent-free on the roofline, Drake shoveled a fin-full of sand over the pile of ineffectual invertebrates.

  Why was it so hard to get manatees, those stupid sea cows, out of the way? All he’d wanted to do was set them free so they could scour the coastline for food and other floating sacks of blubber to their hearts’ content, thereby keeping them out of his business.

  A few inconspicuous rips here and there in the netting should have done the trick; he couldn’t believe the damn octopi had failed. Hades, if they could pry apart mollusks, a group of them should have been able to make crabmeat out of simple Human netting. But no.

  Morons.

  Drake kicked his tail, swimming above the reef. Sea anemones fluttered their tentacles, little fish darted after their next meal, and a crab climbed to the highest peak and broke into song—until he got a look at Drake.

  Drake flicked a sand dollar at the crab, missing it by inches—that, the damn crustacean, and the whole scene making a mockery of his anger.

  At least JR was on his side. Despite the fact that Rod had made contact with The Hybrid, the albatross was the perfect hired hand. The bird would do anything for the right amount of money, or whatever cause he was championing that day, and wouldn’t have a qualm about seeing the job through to the end.

  Sure, he’d had to do a bit of clandestine sleuthing through his father’s office and a lot of finagling to shift so many diamonds from the kimberlite vault to the albatross, but it’d been worth it to land one of the ASA’s best operatives as his henchman. JR had better come through.

  Drake flicked the hair out of his eyes and headed toward the sundial in his courtyard. Bad enough one part of his plan had failed; he didn’t want to miss the next report.

  His latest girlfriend, Tracy, was “sunning” herself in the crystal-clear water of the courtyard, her scales not a shade darker than pale salmon. She’d seen Humans doing it on the one trip he’d been foolish enough to take her on, and now she whiled away hours in the pursuit of the perfect tan. He wasn’t about to tell her that she needed to be in the actual sun to do it and not resting on the bottom.

  Drake shook his head. Females. It had to be innate to their gender.

  “Going topside again?” She held on to her shell-filler cover as she flipped onto her stomach.

  Drake’s eyes immediately flew to the area just above her scales.

  As if there’d be a royal trident birthmark there. He laughed at himself. Hades, he was so paranoid another Mer would appear out of nowhere and outrank him that he was looking for trouble all over the place.

  “You’re not coming with me.” That was the last thing he needed. She wasn’t smart enough to understand what he’d learn, but she was stupid enough to share it with her girlfriends. It was probably time to find a new lair-mate. Maybe he’d have Gonzo do to her what he’d done to the octopi.

  “You never let me go along,” she pouted, hiking herself onto her elbows and forgetting to secure the cover in place. Nice show. Well, there were some things to recommend she remain alive. Two, specifically.

  “That’s because it’s business, Tracy. I wouldn’t go if it weren’t necessary. It’s not a nice place.”

  “Rod must think so if he’s willing to do that leg thing. And I’ve heard Reel likes it so much he and Erica won’t be back for a few selinos once they return this time.” She flopped back onto the chaise she’d bought from a Salvager, her fingers trailing in the white sand beneath her.

  Drake’s teeth ground together like shell shards on a lava beach. The Heir and his lucky S-O-M of a brother, Reel. The other white meat.

  Too bad he hadn’t been able to talk any of the sharks into snatching the royal brothers up in their youth, but the Chondrichthyes hadn’t wanted to risk the gods’ wrath.

  Yellow-bellied tuna-shits. Oh, he was so going to clean house when he took over.

  “Yeah, well, Reel gave up Immortality, so it’s not like I put stock in what he thinks.” Drake didn’t get it. How Reel got so lucky to be offered Immortality, only to turn it down to adopt Humanity! Talk about a clownfish. Those Tritone brothers were whacked.

  And he was going to see to it that the last Mer Tritone brother did get whacked.

  The sundial, adjusted for depth and water speed, shimmered its line at ten minutes before the appointed meeting time. He took a last look at Tracy, who had her eyes closed and was humming to herself—completely off-key. A Mer who couldn’t sing. Yeah, she was a winner.

  Why could he surround himself only with incompetents?

  Well, his luck was about to change once the albatross came through. When Rod was out of the picture, Drake would finally be the winner.

  He exited the perimeter of his lair, keeping careful watch for travelers in the area. He’d set up his home base just past Ceto’s waters in the Bermuda Triangle, enjoying the privacy having her as a neighbor afforded him. Not many Mers—none that he knew of, actually—would stop by to chat if it meant coming into her territory. No, most Mers steered clear of her on general principle, since, supposedly, The Council had a tight rein on her activities.

  Or so they thought.

  Drake took a leisurely trip to the surface amid a bloom of moon jellyfish, both to fool anyone who might be paying attention and to frighten inquisitive Humans away. He couldn’t believe, after all the ships and planes that went missing in the Triangle, that the stupid Bipeds still ventured into this area. They were invasive on all fronts, and he planned to put the fear of the gods into them once he was running the show.

  Clearing the surface, Drake shielded his eyes as he looked into the setting sun. He swore JR had told his minions to fly in that way just to keep him sunblind.

  Ah, well, JR had earned his reputation, and if this was how he trained his team, far be it from Drake to challenge it. He just wanted results.

  The soft fluttering of feathers joined the quiet ebb and flow of the sea’s ripples as another petrel swooped in for a landing on the water’s surface.

  “Whatcha got?” Drake asked him.

  The gray bird took his time dunking his head below the surface to splash water over his back, then settling his feathers into place. Drake fumed silently. Power plays were not something he enjoyed.

  Unless, of course, they were played by him.

  “Well? Did JR handle it?”

  The pet
rel arched the feathers above one eye. “JR is handling it. He asked me to report in that all is going according to plan.”

  “According to plan? What does that mean? I want to know if Rod is dead on the side of the road somewhere in that gods-forsaken stretch of dirt. I want results.”

  The bird aimed its pointy beak at his eyes. “And you’ll have them. Don’t question JR. You hired him because he’s the best. He’ll get the job done.”

  “But he assured me he’d have Rod out of commission by today.”

  “Today isn’t over.” The bird stretched its wings, flapping them. “You’ll get your results.” Then he took off, quickly becoming a black dot in the waning daylight.

  JR had failed.

  Drake couldn’t believe it. The one being he hadn’t expected to fail, had. Rod was still alive and still heading to the ocean—where Drake wouldn’t be able to touch him. Not now. Not when they were all on alert.

  Desperation eclipsing his pride, Drake called the petrel back. If he wanted to have a prayer in ascending to the throne, Rod needed to die.

  Soon.

  Chapter 22

  Val peered through the unrelenting water sluicing down her windshield into the gray nothingness beyond. Blah road bled into black clouds, the deluge outside changing the cornstalks alongside the road into shadowy sentinels as fields stretched for mile after endless mile.

  There hadn’t been any more air assault incidents, unless one wanted to count Mother Nature’s unrelenting torrent. No more painful phone calls—by unspoken agreement, Rod hadn’t asked after supplying his brother’s address, and she hadn’t volunteered.

  Instead, Rod had shared more stories of his childhood, about his sisters: Angel, the sociologist; Mariana, the sculptor; and Pearl, who was still in school.

  Val had contributed as well, with stories from her offbeat jobs, keeping them as light and humorous as possible.

  Rod had asked hundreds of questions about each one. What she’d liked, what she hadn’t, why she’d chosen one over the other, why she’d left… It was as if he’d never heard of some of them.