by Starla Night
This was why Milly wished for a warrior to speak at the Sea Festival. To share his words. To touch the souls of any humans who would be a friend.
Very well.
He would dedicate his new mission, as Second Lieutenant, to select the best warrior to speak.
For as long as he was a Second Lieutenant.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Uvim studied Xalu. He was a very honorable warrior. But his soul was troubled. Could he give the speech?
Xalu stiffened. His tridents gave silent warning.
So far, he was not very welcoming.
The other humans Milly had called “tourists” gaped.
One older female braved approaching Xalu. “Can I ask a question?”
He looked to Uvim for permission.
Uvim nodded.
She brightened. “What’s your name?”
“Xalu.”
“Zay-looo?” She licked her lips. “And, uh, how do you see without goggles?”
“Goggles?” he repeated. His voice was deep and resonant even on the surface.
Her husband hung on her arm. “To see sharks, she means.”
“I hear them.”
The couple blinked and laughed in surprise.
“You hear them?” the woman repeated.
“Yes.”
“It’s like you have another sense.”
“They do have another sense,” their trainee-aged youth said from a seat behind them. The youth swiped his cell phone.
“Another sense,” she repeated. “Wow.”
“How did you know that?” the husband asked the son.
“It’s all over Snapchat.”
Xalu lapsed silent.
The couple moved to the railing. No others dared approach.
Perhaps, once Dosan healed, he would give the speech. His words flowed.
The boat returned to its dock in the harbor.
Milly changed into new coverings and her glasses, so he dove over the side, collected his orange swim shorts from the cave where he had stashed it, and clambered up onto the dock to return to Milly’s side.
Police apprehended the mother and son. Dosan was moved to the rental for his own health. The police detained and interviewed the passengers, including Milly and Uvim.
One police inspector with smooth black hair and a crisp, dark uniform — even in the hot sun — asked multiple times whether Uvim desired a “visa” for traveling to “America.”
“I remain with Milly,” he stated.
The inspector looked at Milly.
She looped her arm with Uvim’s, soaking her thin T-shirt sleeve on the salty moisture. “He’s not going anywhere.”
The inspector clicked his writing implement. “You still intend to testify at your parents’ trial?”
“Yes. My sister will too.”
He made a note.
“There’s one more thing.” She pointed at the fish-man symbol on the paper included with the dynamite. “Someone shot a similar design into the side of the lockbox a few days ago.”
“You did not report this crime.”
“I’m sorry. I was so busy. And I didn’t think it was very serious.”
“You were mistaken.”
Her soul light darkened.
Uvim intervened. “She reports it now.”
The interviewer placed the writing implements in his covering pocket. “Where is the lockbox?”
“It might still be standing. Otherwise, Vaw Vaw’s family will have it. Do you know who’s behind the vandalism?”
“You may go.”
She frowned.
Uvim pushed. “The criminal is known?”
“No.” The inspector sighed. “This drawing was found in a seized yacht. It is crude but different. Perhaps the organizer is trying out logos.”
“Organizer? So you think it’s bigger than a couple vandals?”
The inspector grimaced as though he had already said too much.
He allowed Milly and Uvim to leave. As they crossed the busy street to her car, she did a double-take at a passing car and darkened.
“What bothers you?” he asked.
“I thought I saw someone I knew.” She shook herself. “Bad memories.”
They crossed in front of the dive shop.
He would ask more questions but Milly’s boss hurried out to greet them.
She handed a covering — T-shirt with the dive shop logo on one breast — to Uvim. “You’re both alive.”
He pulled the T-shirt on. It strained across his torso.
Milly turned to her boss. “I’m sorry we scared you.”
“Too right.” She squeezed Milly’s hands. “The Sea Festival will go on. These acts of violence will not deter us.”
Milly dropped her hands and hugged her boss. “Thank you.”
She patted Milly’s shoulder. “Thousands will see your welcome speech, Uvim. And on the internet, hundreds of thousands. You’ll address them all.”
Milly waited for him to protest.
But he did not.
Her boss released her and made two fists. “We’ll fight!”
Uvim stiffened.
Undersea, a raised fist was the universal gesture for a challenge. Two meant a dangerous fight with no rules, no mercy, no survivors. When lofted this long, it showed contempt for the other male.
“Good on you,” she said, oblivious to her insult. “Mermen and humans are the same. Nothing to fear.”
He forced himself to echo her words. “Nothing to fear.”
Milly studied him strangely.
“And you, Uvim, will show that to the world,” her boss finished.
Milly’s eyes stayed on him but her mouth questioned her boss. “What do we need to do?”
Police opened the dive shop door and waved for her boss.
“I’ll mail you the details. Rehearsal when they complete the stage,” her boss said, skipping back. “I can’t believe the festival starts this week!”
She dropped her fists.
His shoulders released and his racing heart slowed.
Milly opened the car doors. Heat billowed out. She rummaged in her trunk, folded a towel across his seat, and checked his buckle. They left the hot street behind. Milly drove to Jen and Ian’s quiet home.
Uvim entered his second human dwelling.
The layout was similar to Milly’s. White walls, tile floors, and a variety of resting objects — low couches, large stuffed chairs, and tables. A flat black panel displayed pictures and sound.
These things, along with unsecured openings called windows and secured openings called doors, matched Milly’s.
The brother, Ian, gave the tour of the rental. In one quiet room, Dosan slept. Jen nursed him.
Xalu had escaped with both his and Dosan’s tridents. Now, he patrolled their private, fenced pool.
With Xalu and Ian, Uvim shared the mystery organization’s logo: a triangle around a fish head with stick legs being stabbed by a weapon known as a meat cleaver.
“Milly believes this is a rude depiction of a merman being killed,” he explained.
Xalu gripped his trident. “This is war. Someone must tell the elders.”
Yes. Someone must
“Milly reported to Queen Zara,” Uvim said.
Xalu’s eyes narrowed. “The elders must be told.”
“They will be.”
But Dosan was injured. Xalu must protect him from further attack. And Uvim could not leave Milly.
Doubts remained in Xalu’s eyes.
Would he refuse Uvim’s leadership?
The honorable warrior stepped back. His face blanked. Neutral.
Uvim released his fears in a long breath. Xalu would not challenge him today.
Truly, he longed to return to the ocean. Now. And stay there.
He could see vast distances under the water. Track predators darting miles away.
But he could not spot his enemy in this air world. And that meant he could not protect Milly.
T
he problem rattled him during the drive away from the rental. Milly drove to the harbor lockbox — a shiny, new metal box rested on the pedestal — and then she drove on to Vaw Vaw’s house for the evening meal.
The ride was silent. Her mind was occupied. But it was an easy silence. She seemed much calmer than when she had stormed away to report to Queen Zara.
“You agreed to the welcome speech,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “Even though you refused before.”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“We must make an overture of friendship to those humans who would become our friends.”
She sat taller. “You understand.”
Yes. He finally understood.
“Great.” Milly slowed and turned onto a bumpy gravel driveway in front of a large white adobo house with a red tile roof. “Um, Vaw Vaw really likes mermen.”
Tension eased from his shoulders. He welcomed a peaceful meal with a Portuguese grandmother.
“So, it’s likely she’ll ask you to give a speech.”
“Another will give the Sea Festival speech.”
“Another? Who?”
He shook his head. Not him. Dosan or Xalu must. Not him.
Milly parked. Her lips curved wryly. “Sure? Now’s your time to practice.”
Humans spilled out of the house, raced across the yard, and swarmed the car.
He braced himself. “What is this?”
“A human family.”
“One family!”
“Welcome to Vaw Vaw’s.” Milly unsnapped her seatbelt, tossed him a careless grin, and got out.
“Bem-vinda!” they shouted to her. The car door closed on the noise. She was engulfed in cheerful young fry.
Welcome.
Small hands tapped on the glass.
Young fry. So many young fries.
He eased the door open and exited into the enthusiastic, young crowd.
More young fry than he had ever seen in his life surrounded Uvim. Hands touched him, poked his tattoos, thunked him. Small females and small males. They poked his bare feet. “Barbatanas!”
He obliged, flexing his feet. The toes unfolded, surprising some, and his fins emerged.
They shrieked in appreciation.
“Vaw Vaw.” Milly hugged a diminutive female. “Este é meu namorado. Uvim.”
The female, Vaw Vaw, finished Milly’s hug and then strode to him. The crowd parted around her like waves flowing around a powerful rock. Her arms opened wide. She wore glass eye coverings, like Milly, but on the end of a pink necklace hanging from her neck. Streaks of gray in her brown hair denoted age and dignity.
He tried to step out of her way.
She swerved and wrapped her arms around his midsection, chatting away. “Vem-bindo à nossa casa! Você fala português? Você é tão corajoso e forte. Pode nos falar um pouco sobre tua pessoa?”
Welcome to our home! You speak Portuguese? You are so brave and strong. Will you tell us a few things about yourself?
He tensed. This diminutive female touched him all over. He was with Milly. Such touching was not allowed.
But Milly, a gentle bride, was unbothered. She smiled sympathetically at his discomfort and told the elder, “He isn’t used to touch from ‘another woman.’”
“Pshaw,” Vaw Vaw said, switching to flawless English. “He will learn.”
But she also released him.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“I love meeting the new members of my family.” Vaw Vaw thumped Uvim on the back. “Milly, very nice job bringing another warrior here. Warrior Uvim, welcome to my home.”
He dipped his head. Milly’s family was used to warriors. They knew First Lieutenant Elan.
“Please say something.”
His heart clenched.
Already? Now? In front of these people?
“Shush,” she told the children and chattering adults. “He will speak.”
They stared.
He stilled like he’d drifted into the maw of a megalodon.
His mouth dried. His tongue felt heavy as a stone. Old fears whirled in his head.
Humans are dangerous. They do not understand. Obey the ancient covenant. Escape!
Vaw Vaw’s extended family waited for his speech.
No words came.
Milly wove through the crowd to his side. Her bright light glowed sweet and warm. She took his damp hand. “These are already your friends.”
He nodded. Stiff.
Her low voice encouraged. “Say what’s in your heart.”
He focused. What was in his heart?
Terror. Speaking to humans was exposure. Exposure was fatal. To a warrior’s health and, more importantly, to his honor.
Or his words would offend, expose his unworthiness, and turn these friendly people into an enemy of the mer.
Beneath that?
Confusion. How could he reach out to humans when he could barely communicate with his closest friends?
Beneath that?
Hope.
Under the fear and confusion, he still clung to hope.
Milly rested one soothing hand on his taut shoulder, rubbing his tension. She turned to her relatives. “He’s very pleased to meet you.”
Small smiles flickered over faces. Reaching out to him.
He needed to reach back.
“Thank you.” He forced the words over his heavy, dry tongue. “This home. Your kindness.”
They smiled as if he’d communicated more than sentence fragments.
That was because of Milly.
Milly always understood him. Even when he was silent. With her in his arms, he might finally express his feelings. Because of her encouragement.
He would try. Someday.
“Come.” Vaw Vaw linked arms with him. “Welcome to my family.”
He moved through the crowd and into the human’s dwelling.
This was his second dwelling today. Milly’s house and the rental both had few furnishings. Vaw Vaw’s house was larger but held so many objects it felt much smaller. Dark wood, large and small images nailed to the walls, a tiled room bubbling with foods called “seafood stew” and “braised vegetables” and “fried chicken sausage,” and a room crowded with a long wooden table and objects called chairs where they ate the evening meal.
They ladled steaming foods onto his plate searing hot.
Milly had left him and returned blinking and watering at the eyes, her eye-glasses stowed away. Now, sitting beside him, she pointed out the cooled, fresh-baked herb bread, chilled creamy cheese, olives, and other edibles while he waited for the hot foods to reach a palatable temperature.
“Warrior!” the young fries shouted from their sections of the long, bent table. “Warrior, do you like futebol? Do you like arroz doce? Do you like bacalhau?”
He did not know futbol or arroz doce. Bacalhau was cod.
He nodded.
The young fries cheered. Their parents’ heart-warming smiles extended to him.
Between questions, he overheard Milly defending herself to one of the older relatives.
“Police came by the harbor,” one of older relatives told her, in Portuguese. “We are watching now for the symbol. It’s tourists, yeah? Young college kids.”
“Foreigners,” another agreed.
“We don’t know for sure,” Milly protested.
The others waved away her objection.
A third noticed Uvim listening. “We have no problems with your kind.”
He inclined his head.
The trio of older males returned the gesture with respect.
The second male reported. “Kids are watching the lockbox.”
She frowned. “Tell them to be careful. And I’m sorry for this hardship.”
He laughed. “What hardship? ‘Go play at the beach. OK, paizinho!’ It is no hardship.”
Milly looked away to spread a creamy butter on her bread. Her soul light dimmed.
The first one tapped Milly’s shoulder, f
orcing her attention on him. “Don’t struggle alone, yeah? We are your family. My little niece, ask for our help.”
Milly forced a smile. “Yes. Thank you.”
Uvim caught her eye.
She softened and rubbed his thigh under the table.
They finished the meal, Milly bade farewell to her relatives, and they returned to the car.
He slid into his seat and closed the door. “You do not wish to ask your family for help.”
“Technically they’re not my family.” She checked his seatbelt, started the engine and waved to the relatives, and pulled onto the main road. “Vaw Vaw was my neighbor when I was too young to remember, before my aunt took me and Zara to America. Vaw Vaw kind of adopted me. Not officially, but she’s the grandmother I never had. Do you have that?”
“Yes.”
“Adoption?”
“When a father cannot parent, his king adopts his young fry.”
“I should be grateful for all she’s done. But the others chastise and evict me from my own projects. It’s so frustrating!”
“They do not respect.”
“Yes! Yes, that’s it exactly. I’m a child to them. They still call me ‘little.’ I graduated from college!” She sighed and stopped, looking both directions at the empty cross road, and continued. “I will never be an adult in their eyes. But … well, maybe they’re right.”
Her light dimmed.
This was her greatest fear. That she was useless. That she could not contribute. That she would waste her second chance and bother others all her life.
“You are an adult,” he stated.
“I didn’t report the vandalism. If reporting it would have stopped this mysterious organization, then the one who almost got us killed wasn’t the kid and his mom throwing dynamite. It was me.”
She pulled into her parking location at her house and stopped the engine.
A harsh silence fell over the car.
She rested her hands on the steering column and her head on her hands. Her voice emerged smaller than ever before. “I’m not responsible enough and I never will be.”
But she was responsible.
She cared about the warriors. She’d risked her own life. She’d saved Dosan.
An irresponsible person would run away from her problems. Milly faced hers head-on. The problems arrayed before her were as large and vicious as a school of deadly megalodons. It was not her fault her problems could swallow up whole cities in their monstrous maws.
