Ryan stands over the blue guy’s body. He taps it with his foot. It doesn’t move. He bends down and uses the tip of an arrow to prod at the still body. “What are these things?” He jumps back as the body convulses and then starts to decompose into the grass, stinking of rotting fish.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting.”
“Let’s get back inside,” I say, holding my hand out for Layla to grab. She raises the dagger in the air so the rain will wash away the slick, black blood on the edges. Kurt’s violet eyes are luminous in the darkness. I wonder if mine look the same way. I can tell he’s still listening for the other creature, because I am too.
Thalia stands nervously just inside the gate leading back inside the building. Her voice is small as her eyes flicker around the field. She pushes her wet hair away from her eyes. “Come, Ryan.”
He cups his hands at the sky and lets the rain pool in them, then washes the black blood off with it. He walks toward the entrance with his blue eyes focused on Thalia. His face registers shock as Kurt raises his bow and arrow at him. Kurt’s face is stone. Ryan holds his hands up in the air.
“What are you doing?” I yell at Kurt. But then I see what he’s doing. The arrow is pointed past Ryan to where the third creature, the blowfish, stands a few feet behind our friend.
“Ryan,” Kurt says. He raises his arrow a little higher. “Don’t. Move.”
I don’t know what I can do with just a dagger. If I throw it at the creature, I could very well miss and stab my friend. I do know that none of these creatures want my friends. They want me.
And before I can say duck, before I can even raise my dagger, the creature puffs out his face and snaps his neck in my direction.
I raise my hands to cover my face, and my entire body is a scream as Layla jumps in front of me, arms wrapped around my neck, mouth open in a pained gasp as the needles pierce her back.
The rain beats hard against my neck.
Layla’s eyes are wide and staring right at me. She’s still standing. I’m afraid to hold her too tightly.
Behind us the creature falls, an arrow pierced though his throat. Layla’s knees bend. She says my name. The thunder is loud, and the rain is like pellets against the ground, but I know she says my name. Her weight goes slack, and I keep my hands under her arms to try to keep her up.
“Help me.” I don’t know if I’ve actually said it.
Their footsteps splash against the ground. Thalia is at my side, helping me lay Layla facedown on the ground.
“Do something,” I say. I look up at Kurt, who stands over me. Doing nothing. He could’ve shot sooner. Why did he hesitate? Why did I just stand there?
“There’s too much poison,” he says helplessly.
I take my dagger and, as gently as I can, rip the thin cotton of her T-shirt. The needles go right through it, and I can’t take the shirt off without hurting her. I drop my blade on the ground. Run my hands through my hair. Press against my skull as if I can make all of this go away. Thalia is pulling out the spikes and sobbing at the same time. Layla’s back is like a dark board of tiny red dots where blood pools out and is washed away just as quickly by the rain.
My knees are raw from kneeling on the turf. I hold her hand in mine, but there’s no pressure, no weight. My body is cold. My skin is numb in the rain.
“That’s all of it,” Thalia says, holding out a handful of black needles. They’re slick and black and don’t look like much.
“Wake up,” I whisper in Layla’s ear. I flip her over in my arms so that I can look at her again. I never used to understand what people meant when they said they felt small against the rest of the world. But I do now. Her body is motionless in my arms. Her lips are purple. Her eyelids are wet. She looks the same way she did when she was sleeping in my chambers on the island, when we’d fall asleep in my living room when we were littler, when we’d lie out on the beach at noon and I’d wear my black sunglasses so she wouldn’t see that I was looking at her. Something inside me breaks over and over again, and I don’t know how to stop it.
“Tristan.”
The rain stops. The clouds push away. I can feel the warmth of the sun against my skin. When I open my eyes, it’s still dark out. The light isn’t coming from the sky; it comes from Layla. The necklace my grandfather gave her glows under her shirt. No harm can come to you by me or mine, he’d said.
Her lips move again. “Tristan.”
She smiles at me, and I try not to hug her too hard. I’m about to say something, anything, when a rough voice cuts through the field and yells, “Hands in the air!”
At the entrance of the field are maybe half a dozen cops. The creatures have completely washed away. The targets are all split into pieces; there’s a huge hole at the gate and arrows all over the grass.
The officer repeats himself, and this time they all cock their guns.
An EMT drapes an itchy blanket around my shoulders. I’m shirtless with a bandage around my ribs, where apparently two of them are broken.
The rain has stopped, except for the thin sheet of mist that clings low to the ground. The EMT hands me a cup of black coffee. I shake my head at the bitter hotness that burns my tongue.
Detective Donovan has his hands in his leather jacket, nodding periodically as the hysterical girls give him their versions of what happened. Regular, end-of-the-year fun. Three monsters break through the fence. The girls giving their witness accounts point at me. Detective Donovan comes over to me, finally.
“Hurts?” He nods at my bandaged hand.
“No,” I lie, and squeeze it for show.
“Are you up to giving a statement?”
“Like the girls said,” I tell him. “We were hanging out on the field. These guys just came through the fence. Attacked. We tried to fight them off, and they went away.”
“Guys?” The question lingers as he chews his gum. “The other students say they were creatures. That they looked like sharks and”—he stops himself, because he might just be too professional to even utter this—“creatures from the blue lagoon.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the black lagoon,” I say, regretting my smart mouth. “I think they had masks on.”
“The girls say that they melted into the rain.”
I shake my head, thankful that Ryan had been smart enough to put our weapons away for us, thankful that Layla was alive in my arms. She’d just left with her parents, wearing my shirt because we had to rip hers. “It happened so fast. They ran away after they heard the sirens.”
I can smell Detective Donovan’s doubt and his irritation, like dirt in my mouth.
“You kids involved in some kind of gang activity?”
“No, sir.”
“You don’t go here, do you, son?” He turns to Kurt. Thalia sits beside her brother. The blanket slips from her shoulders and onto the floor. No one moves to pick it up.
“I am not your son, sir, and no, this is not my school. We’re Tristan’s cousins, visiting students for the remainder of the summer.”
“Some summer,” he scoffs. His dark eyes squint, like if he looks hard enough I’ll cave and tell him I’m a criminal.
An argument breaks out over in the parking lot. “Ma’am, please stay behind the tape!”
“Don’t you touch me. I need to see my son!” My mom pushes her way through. She pulls me into such a tight hug that I spill coffee on myself.
“Sorry! Sorry. Oh my goddess—”
“Ma’am, are these your niece and nephew?”
“Yes, why?
“They have no identification.”
“Well, yes, it’s all at home. I didn’t anticipate they’d need their passports in case there was an attack on the school.” She sniffs down her nose at him. “Dad’s waiting in the car around the corner. Most of the streets are blocked off.”
>
“Tristan,” Detective Donovan tries once more. His hard mask falls, and his frustration peeks through. “Do you remember what these men looked like? Anything that can help us? Any of you.”
What am I supposed to say? There’s no Sea King, so the nasty things that live in the ocean have come out to play? I’d be halfway to the nuthouse before anyone can say, Are mermen supposed to be so shiny? “It was dark. They came out of nowhere.”
“Are you finished?” Mom asks Detective Donovan.
He nods. “I’ll be in contact. Here’s my card. If you remember anything.”
I want to tell him that they can’t help me and I can’t help them. Instead I take the thin white card and pocket it so he’ll at least get off my back. We follow my mom through the crowd. People stand on their porches and stick their heads out their windows. There’s a PIX 11 camera crew and a lady TV reporter in a pale pink suit, who looks sternly at the cameraman. Everyone she interviews points in my direction. This is so not good.
I can see Ryan getting into the back of his parents’ car. He looks behind one more time so he can wave to Thalia, who gives him a sad smile. I put my arm over her shoulder. The lady in the pink suit bum-rushes us, and suddenly between the sidewalk and our car, I have a hot white light on my face.
“How do you feel about people calling you the hero of the night? Is there a connection between this attack on your school and the missing boys throughout the city?” I swat the microphone away from my face and shut the door. As the reporter smacks the glass with her hand, my mom hits the gas.
Neptune’s Diner is buzzing with families and early bird couples. Old Ukrainian waitresses with graying buns and faces that would scare you out of changing your order bus their tables as quickly as they serve them. We’ve got pancakes, French toast, eggs and sausage, and about ten side orders of bacon.
We skipped dinner the night before, everyone staying in their own section of the apartment. I sat in front of my Command Central wall, staring at maps that didn’t tell me anything useful. Thalia went right to my room to call Ryan and convince him he didn’t see exactly what he saw.
Dad slaps his newspaper with the back of his hand. “Who even took this picture?”
Under the caption “Local Heroes Fight for Fellow Students” is a crude picture of us fighting the sea creatures. We don’t look like we’re winning. I stuff my mouth so I’ll have something to do.
Dad shuts the newspaper, stopping short of crumpling it into a ball and throwing it across the diner. “I can’t believe they would keep the school open today.”
“We have to go. We have to find Maddy.” And I have to see Layla. She was dead in my arms, and then she wasn’t. If anyone knows what it’s like to think you’ve died and come back, it’s me.
Kurt clears his throat. “How do you know your previous paramour will be there? She wasn’t there yesterday.”
“It’s okay to just say ex-girlfriend, you know.”
A different waitress rounds our table. But when I look at her again, I see she’s not a waitress. She’s wearing an apron with the picture of a cupcake haloed by stars with the logo “Erica’s Cupcakes” in neon pink. She glances behind her nervously. There’s something familiar about her, only I can’t sift through my mind fast enough. She bows lightly at me. Kurt looks up at her, wearing the same expression I am.
“Have we met?” he goes, Mr. Smooth Criminal.
She smiles, tucking her long brown curls behind her ear. That’s when I notice a tiny suction cup protrude from the side of her wrist and then sink right back. I jump back, rocking our booth, which alarms the early bird couple behind us.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Lord Sea.”
“Will you guys stop calling me that,” I hiss.
“Pardon again.” She looks back and waves at the cook visible behind the line of yellow order tickets. He winks at her and flips a pancake. “I’ve been looking for you. Your whereabouts are more secret than the Glass Castle.”
“Who are you?” Mom asks, pushing herself erect.
The lady shrinks back a bit. “My friends call me Penny. I wish to speak to Lor—”
I hold up my hand. “Call me Tristan.”
Everyone scoots over a seat to make room for her.
“You were on Arion’s ship,” I say. “You were with the turtle boy.”
She nods happily. “He’s my son, Timmy.”
Timmy the turtle. No wonder merpeople are known for their cruelty.
“I remember you,” Thalia says matter-of-factly.
“My son is rooting for you as champion.”
“How did you find him?” Dad says, staring at the spot on her wrist where the suction cup rises again. His eyes are full of wonder, and I suddenly wish there were more people like my dad out there. “Is there a mer-tracking device on you we should check for?” He reaches over to me and digs through my hair until I pull away.
“My boyfriend,” she nods toward the kitchen at the cook. “Timmy got your picture from the papers and put it on our refrigerator. Right next to his Batman and Superman magnets.”
“That’s real—neat?” I say, wishing I could find that part of me that’s funny and quick and always ready to make girls laugh. But it’s like that half of my brain is asleep, and all I can think about is Layla almost dying because of me. “Why were you looking for me, Penny?”
“I’m technically not supposed to do this,” she says.
“Because you’re landlocked, and the landlocked have no say in who becomes champion,” Kurt says.
I try to kick him under the table, but I miss and hit the metal pole. Anger flashes over Penny’s delicate face. “Yes, I’m landlocked. Which means I’m powerless against the merrows attacking our shores. Killing on land. The longer there is no Sea King, the longer those on these shores will be subject to the creatures who wish there were no Sea King at all. Believe me, just because we pay tithes for protection doesn’t mean there aren’t those who would rather have no king at all.” She leans closer to Kurt, practically yelling in his face. I don’t exactly blame her.
Mom and Kurt start talking over each other, but he lets her go first, always the gentleman. “What do you mean, the merrows? They’re not allowed to grow past their infancy.”
“What’s a merrow?”
Penny takes the crumpled newspaper from the table and opens it to the pictures of the attack at our school. “These are merrows. This is the first time I’ve seen them, but I’ve heard stories of those that grow to full size and live in swamps and small lakes. When they came on shore, they had no fear of being caught. They tore through cars. Some got lost in the subway and got run over by trains. Can’t say they’re very smart, but in numbers they would be a challenge. The alliance isn’t happy.”
“Guys, what are they?”
“Wait a minute,” Thalia says, eating the last bit of French toast. “Merrows are tiny, and they’re disfigured. Those creatures were fully grown.”
“Which would mean that those responsible for disposing of the merrows aren’t doing what they’re supposed to,” Kurt’s says gravely.
I smack my hand on the table. “Hi, champion here. Would someone mind telling me what you’re all talking about?”
Penny takes a deep breath. “Sometimes a mermaid gives birth to a deformed child, not fully human or mer-kin. It has no reason, no sense of speech. There was a time when they tried to acclimate them into families. But they were too wild, and it often ended very bloodily. Before King Karanos—your grandfather—King Erebos decreed that the merrows born at court would be killed instantly. King Karanos thought it was too cruel, so instead he had a prison built for them where they would be left alone.
“What about the ones not born at court?” I find that the question leaves me slowly. Mostly because I already know the answer, but also because I don’t w
ant to hear it.
Penny looks down that the table. She picks up the salt shaker and holds it. “Sometimes the families would not want to travel that far and would simply leave the creature at the edge of a precipice. It is considered a curse to raise a merrow.”
“I see,” Dad says quietly.
No one touches their food anymore.
“So these creatures,” I say, “these merrows that are supposed to be dead, are now fully grown and attacking people.”
Penny shakes her head. “Not people. They’re after you. Whatever gets in their way is just collateral damage.”
“They’ve never attacked before?” Dad asks.
“They’re not equipped to survive on their own,” Thalia says. “If they’re living to that size, then someone is raising them. I’ve never seen one before—”
“Nor have I,” Kurt adds.
“The Sea King does not want to be like his father. From what my grandparents told me, King Elanos had the wrath of the eye of a storm. Your father,” Penny turns to my mom, “wanted to be loved by his people, and now it’s going to haunt him.”
“Nieve is raising them,” Kurt says. I can feel his mind turning. He’s coming up with a plan. I have no plan. I’m just trying to take this all in. “I’m sure of it.”
“What else do you know, Penny?” I ask.
“I’m not connected to the underground as such. This was my first tithe to the king. I was born on land, but my mother taught me the basic rules to keep my family protected.”
I chew on a piece of bacon, just for the taste of salt in my mouth. “Why are you doing this? I mean, if you have no connection to the court, why would you even care about the championship?”
“Because unlike other merpeople, you know what it’s truly like to be part of both worlds. You could change things. Change things for real. Like I said, my boy is rooting for you.” She stands and presses her hands on her apron. “I have to get back to work. Remember, Tristan, it’s not just my boy and I rooting for you. You’ll find our kind is all behind you, not just in the seas.” With that and a small wave she’s gone.
Vicious Deep Page 19
