by Sarah Porter
Samantha and Anais had definitely rehearsed this, Luce thought. And they’d been spying on her! Were they trying to get her expelled from the tribe? She wanted to rush to Catarina, but the thought of how terribly hurt Catarina must be kept her frozen where she was.
“Oh, Anais, you can be so naive sometimes!” It was Samantha again, trilling almost gleefully. Wouldn’t Catarina realize that this was all a show they were putting on for her? “Isn’t it obvious? There’s only one reason Luce could have for trying to become a better singer than Catarina!” Luce saw the wave start up in Catarina’s tail; it began slowly, then ended in a convulsive whiplash. But how could Cat possibly believe them? “Isn’t that seriously messed up, though? I mean, after you saved her life and everything? You’d think she’d have more loyalty than to go around scheming to squeeze you out as queen!”
“I’d like to see her try!” Catarina’s voice was rough but too shrill and wild to seem really confident; Luce had a sudden apprehension that something in Catarina’s heart was truly and irrevocably broken. “I suppose Luce thinks she’s the new Marina, and that I’m just a kind of pretender, always getting in her way ... And there is something about her voice that—that pulls me back...” Cat was starting to drift again, her words ascending into an ethereal, mournful lilt, a drowsy half-song. Luce had the sudden fear that Anais and Samantha might start to think Cat was going insane; a desperate impulse to somehow intervene and protect Catarina surged through her, but she didn't see what she could do to help.
Luce began sliding very carefully back toward the tunnel. She couldn't try to talk to Catarina now, not if Cat really thought that Luce was plotting against her...
Once she was outside, Luce noticed how wondrously beautiful the light patterns were that skimmed across the surface of the sea. It was deep green with lozenges of shining sky blue, running streaks of silver, a crosshatching of milky white where the water reflected a patch of clouds. But, Luce thought suddenly, the sea would be just as beautiful somewhere else. How could this still be her home if Catarina believed Luce was betraying her? Hadn't she always showed Cat that she was loyal?
It had been a terrible mistake, Luce realized, not to tell Catarina herself about her singing practice. If only Catarina weren't always so ridiculously touchy about everything to do with singing, and if she hadn't seemed half crazed after they'd sung Anais into her new form, then it would have been so much easier ... but maybe it had been cowardly not to at least try to talk to her about it.
And then, Anais and Samantha must be planning something awful, Luce thought. That much was clear now. And they'd made sure that Catarina wouldn't listen if Luce tried to warn her.
Luce floated for an hour, thinking of swimming south alone, but then she changed her mind. She had to be ready to fight on Catarina's side if serious trouble came. Catarina had saved her life more than once, after all, and the least Luce could do in return was stick by her, even if Catarina didn't trust her at all anymore. Still, it took all Luce’s determination to swim to the dining beach that evening and eat with the others, then go back to spend the night in the main cave. She hadn’t come above water and looked around the cave in days, so she was startled to see the jags of rock festooned with Anais’s trophies: leather belts and sunhats hung from protruding spikes of stone, and the beach was littered with makeup kits, dishes, ornate cut-crystal lamps, and even, Luce saw with a jolt, a few paperback novels that had probably belonged to Tessa. She picked up a copy of Jane Eyre, but it had been underwater for too long: its pages were lumped together, stiff with salt, and only crumbled when Luce tried to peel them gently apart.
She kept glancing over at Catarina all evening, but the red-gold head stayed stubbornly averted. Even when Luce deliberately swam to a spot only a few feet away Catarina didn’t look at her once, and Luce saw Anais smirk and nudge Samantha.
Luce was too worried now to go off alone and practice singing. It would only confirm Catarina’s suspicions if Luce spent time away in her small cave, and Luce forced herself to stay with the group, chatting and splashing as if nothing were the matter. When Dana and Rachel asked her for another lesson, Luce cringed and then reluctantly agreed, looking at Catarina the whole time. Catarina still wouldn’t meet her eyes, and Luce constantly had to fight down tears.
Three days after that awful overheard conversation, Luce woke up in the greenish dimness of the main cave, convinced she’d heard something. It was so early that the few bands of sunlight crossing the darkness were apricot colored and angled near the ceiling; near dawn, then, but dawn came so quickly now that it might have been only two or three in the morning. Everyone else was asleep, their lovely faces lined up along the shore while the water lapped across their chests like a living blanket. Miriam seemed to be having a nightmare; she whimpered and flailed, one pale hand raised to ward off something only she could see. Had that been the sound that woke Luce?
No. She heard it again: a distant voice that pulsed through the water and then echoed lightly inside the cave until all the air was brushed with ecstatic sound. Luce looked around and realized Catarina's fiery head was missing from the row of sleeping faces. Was Catarina singing to someone out there in the sea? Luce listened for a while to the voice that merged and fluxed inside the constant ringing of the waves. Catarina's singing was so luxurious, so strange and sweet that Luce still couldn't believe the incredible compliment Miriam had given her. Could it possibly be true that Luce's own singing was almost that wonderful? Luce shook her head as she considered the idea. And how could Catarina be insecure about it when the music that emerged from her was so beautiful that it seemed to come from a place far beyond Earth? Luce had the unwelcome thought that, if Catarina weren't queen, if she weren't so determined to protect her tribe, there'd be nothing to stop her from descending into furious selfdestruction.
The music flowed through Luce's mind until her thoughts seemed to bend and sway in time with it. She saw moving amber lights caught in a pale blue web, and a boy with dark curly hair reached out his hand and waved to her through water that shattered into blobs and then re-formed like mercury...
When she woke again the sun was high in the sky and the other mermaids were flashing away one by one to go to breakfast. Luce couldn’t shake the feeling that Catarina hadn’t come home at all, and the warm crashing water outside the cave seemed veined with frightening possibilities. Worry made her careless, and she slipped up for breath too close to a huge, sleek yacht sailing along at a somnolent pace under a sky so blue it graded into throbbing violet at its meridian. There were at least a dozen people leaning on the railings with their hair streaking out along the breeze, and Luce dove again as fast as she could. She was almost sure no one had seen her, but even so, she thought it showed that they all needed to be more careful, at least until the summer passed.
***
As she’d expected, Catarina wasn’t at the dining beach, but the other mermaids were all there, and they seemed oddly excited. Luce broke through the water into air that trembled with eager voices, and she heard Anais saying, “Well, we can’t just wait all day for Catarina to get back, can we? It’s not like they’re just going to sit around forever...”
Luce was confused. Who was she talking about? Luce looked around at the bright, blazingly lovely faces, all gathered in a circle near the shore. Only Miriam was keeping her distance from the others; she was lying prone some twenty feet away with her face buried in her folded arms, her jet black hair in rivulets along her faintly blue-shining back. Luce couldn’t tell if she was asleep.
“Let’s at least see what Luce thinks, now that she’s here,” Dana answered; her tone was a disquieting combination of nervous and exuberant. “Maybe she can decide if that boat is too big or not. I mean, if we don’t have Cat with us...”
"It is so not too big,” Anais griped, shoving back her white, rhinestone-studded sunglasses, and Luce realized they were talking about the yacht she'd swum so close to minutes before. But even Anais couldn't be crazy enough to sink
it without Catarina's approval, could she? "If you don't want to be helpful, Dana, then I'll just do it with whoever feels like coming with me. I can't see why you want to ask Luce about anything.” Dana's warm, wide-eyed face squeezed into a grimace, and she glanced from Anais to Luce and back again.
"I know Luce has sometimes been—not super fair to you, Anais—” Dana began, but Anais cut her off. Her voice was higher and more ragged than Luce had ever heard it; it thrummed with a kind of hysteria.
"Jenna, you want to sink that bitch, don't you? And Rachel, you're definitely going to come after I gave you that great ruby bracelet, right? And Violet ... there's no way you'd be so goody-goody that you'd just let that awesome boat get away, would you?” Violet and Rachel clung to each other, their eyes shifting around as if they didn't know where to look, but their tails were stirring fervently under the water. They were intimidated by Anais, Luce thought, but they were also dying to go with her. Luce understood. Even the thought of going after that ship made her crave the bliss of singing, too; her mouth actually started watering, although she knew perfectly well she wouldn't permit herself to succumb to the desire. Besides, the idea was so insane that for a few moments Luce was completely speechless, lost in calculation. It was too soon after Anais's yacht, for one thing, and then the boat she'd seen had seemed very crowded; it was probably ferrying at least two hundred tourists, maybe more. A boat that size would be child's play for Catarina, of course, but if they didn’t have her or Luce with them, wouldn’t there be a strong possibility of human survivors?
“I’m not going to help with any boat unless Catarina says it’s okay,” Luce announced angrily. “Dana, you really shouldn’t either. It’s completely crazy. You’ll attract way too much attention, and you’ll wind up breaking the timahk...” Luce hoped Anais would see reason, but it occurred to her that if Anais did refuse to listen, there might be some positive aspects.
“There’s a woman on deck wearing a Dolce and Gabbana dress!” Anais snapped. “This season’s! I bet those people have all kinds of great stuff! Maybe Luce is stupid enough to let a chance like that go by, but I’m not. I’m sinking it.”
“Without me, or Catarina, or Dana?” Luce asked; she couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. The idea of sinking a ship in order to rob the passengers’ corpses struck her as the most repellent thing she’d ever heard, a sick distortion of what being a mermaid was all about, but she didn’t expect anyone there to agree with her. She’d have better luck persuading them if she stuck to the practical issues. “Who’s going to lead the ship in? You’re just going to screw up completely.”
“Dana’s going to lead!” Jenna snapped. “You think she’s going to listen to you? Just ’cause you’ve given her, what, a few lame singing lessons? Dana did it before; she can totally do it again...” Everyone was staring at Dana now, who was twisting her long golden necklace around one slim brown finger, biting her full lower lip. Luce knew she must feel terrible being put in the middle this way, but there didn’t seem to be any alternative. Her stomach tightened as she waited to hear what Dana would say.
Anais opened her mouth, and Luce glowered at her, expecting another burst of shrill bullying. But instead a note came out, spun out long and smooth like a glowing silk ribbon wrapping up the air. Then it rose higher, leaped and twirled. Everyone was gaping at her, and Luce felt her own face fall in dismay. She'd secretly assumed that Anais would be a terrible singer; how could you sing well unless you had a real heart, real emotions? But now it was obvious that, even if Anais's singing was steely and somehow brutal in spite of its beauty, it was also powerful, fierce, and wonderfully controlled. Luce hated to let it affect her, but she couldn't completely prevent the enchantment from infusing her mind, and she felt its promise. It filled her with shapeless dreams of power, with a cold urge to dominate and possess everything she saw...
Anais broke off with a nasty laugh, and Luce shook the remnants of that awful magic from her mind. She stared around at the others. Was it possible they'd consider Anais as good a singer as she was? For a full minute everyone was silent, dazed by the emotions Anais had sent coursing through them.
"Wow!” Jenna said at last. "Well, it looks like we know who's leading now! Dana can take the position Rachel had last time, at the back.” Anais smirked while Samantha broke out in gleeful tittering, shaking her pale curls; Dana only nodded blearily. "Luce is just going to have to suck it up; she can't get her own way for once.” Luce couldn't understand why Jenna seemed to hate her so much all of a sudden, but she was still too stunned by the force of Anais's singing to think of anything she could say in reply. There was the splash and froth of quickly spiraling tails, and streaks of bubbles silvered the water as the mermaids dipped quickly away.
Dana was one of the last to go; she angled an apologetic smile at Luce. "Don't worry, okay? I won't let them get too crazy. Catarina won’t have any reason to be pissed off with us, I promise.” Then she was gone, too, with a crimson and coppery blink of scales. Only Miriam was left, still sprawled against the shore, not even moving when a big bluish larva, maybe the one Anais had wanted to kill, ambled over and began slurping on the corner of one midnight-colored fin. She had to be asleep, Luce thought, if she was tolerating that sad little creature chewing on her.
“Luce?” Miriam suddenly pushed herself up on her elbows, and twisted around to gaze back toward the patch of water where Luce floated limp and shocked, her tail brushing loosely against the pebbles on the seafloor. Luce swam over and stretched out beside her; Miriam’s dark eyes were troubled. “I know she doesn’t deserve any help from you, but shouldn’t you go with them? Just to make sure they don’t break the timahk?” Luce couldn’t believe her ears.
“Why would I care if they do?” Luce snapped. She had the impression she was saying too much, but now that her feelings were starting to seep out it was hard to stop them. “I hope Anais does break it. Cat will throw her out, and then...” Then everything will be okay again, Luce thought. Then Cat will trust me and be my friend again, and we’ll all learn to sing in ways where nobody has to die because of it. I’ll finally have a real home. But she didn’t let herself say those parts out loud. They could hear the stirring vibration of the mermaids’ song now, echoing from far across the water.
“But, I mean, Luce, don’t you see what she’s doing?” Miriam seemed horribly depressed, Luce realized. The words dragged out of her. “Even if she blows it and there are human survivors, who’s going to throw her out? You and Catarina won’t be able to do it alone, not if everyone else...” Luce suddenly understood what Miriam was saying. Of course, Luce thought; she'd been so focused on Anais that she'd overlooked the obvious. Anais had made sure that almost everyone in the tribe was complicit in what she was doing. They'd all be equally guilty, and they'd almost surely turn on Catarina before they'd help her expel their de facto leader. "But, Luce, if anyone gets away from them, the humans will definitely come after us. And it's not just our tribe either. If people start to really understand we're out here, soon they'll be hunting mermaids all over the world. You see? I'm not asking you to like it. I don't either. But you have to help her.”
Luce understood the reasoning, but the idea of going out and singing those people to their deaths just because Anais had said so was more than she could stand. "I'm not going,” Luce said; she felt reckless, almost desperate. "I'm not killing anyone, not ever again. That's not why I sing.” It was out before she could stop herself; still, it was a relief to finally say it out loud. But Catarina already thought she was a traitor, Luce realized with a rush of vertigo; what would she think if Miriam reported that Luce was such a human lover that she'd rather let a bunch of strange humans escape than help her fellow mermaids? Miriam's blue-black gaze was fixed on Luce's face; it was calm, cold, and sad. There was a long silence as they gazed at each other.
"Maybe the humans should hunt us down,” Miriam said at last, and Luce recoiled. It was eerie how dull and emotionless Miriam's voice was now. "Maybe mer
maids and humans don't belong on the same planet. It would be a lot easier to slaughter all of us than all of them. They have us so outnumbered...” Luce couldn't tell if Miriam was serious; was she just trying to shock Luce into swimming out? "I just don't like to think about, you know, you and Rachel ... I dream about it sometimes, Luce. Men with guns, and machines in their ears so they can’t hear us, and blood everywhere ... But maybe it’s better that way...”
Luce wondered if Miriam was right. Was it really impossible that humans and mermaids would ever be able to live without fighting?
“I just...” Luce didn’t know how to say it. “I feel like ... like maybe we could figure out another way? I know they do all kinds of terrible things...” But so do we, Luce thought. A bizarre, unwelcome idea occurred to her: that mermaids were really just as human, just as brutal and destructive, as the humans themselves.
Miriam gave her a slow, bitter smile. “They’re still hurting you, aren’t they?” Luce didn’t know what she was talking about. “The humans you loved, I mean. They’re still killing you inside. You can’t get over it. Isn’t that true? Or is it really just one human?”
Luce was overwhelmed by heartache. She felt as hurt and bewildered as if Miriam had suddenly stabbed her in the gut. “That’s none of your business!”
“You’d rather see them kill all of us than help kill them!” Miriam didn’t seem so depressed anymore; instead her face was frozen in a mask of unfeeling savagery, her voice dead. “It’s your decision. But the only reason you’d make that choice is if you still secretly love one of them. Luce, I’m not stupid ...” Luce didn’t want Miriam to see her cry. She turned and dove through water that shivered with the high, sweet death songs of the other mermaids. If they were heading out to that rocky island, then the yacht must be very close to crashing now.
She rolled violently over and over in the green waves, her eyes wide open while streams of shining bubbles lashed across her vision. Foamy crests rose and fell just above her face, then the green shade of the depths rotated past, then the daylight again. It occurred to Luce that it was possible Miriam hadn't meant to be cruel, that maybe she was overreacting, but those thoughts didn't do anything to calm the ferocious emotions that gushed through her heart. Her dream had been right: everyone was turning on her, and she'd been crazy to trust any of them. Was she even lonelier now than she'd been as a human girl?
