Caught in the Current
Pauline Creeden
Caught in the Current © 2017 Pauline Creeden
Edited by Amy Van Horn
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Caught in the Current
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
About the Author
Caught in the Current
Mermaids can be cruel creatures.
I couldn’t stop them from hurting her, but I couldn’t let them destroy her, no matter what they did to me. The moment I heard the bottom feeder had been chosen for the reckoning, my heart sank. Had I been discovered for what I truly was? Years of pretending I was just like everyone else could all have been for naught. But then I heard it was Verona, and my blood ran cold.
Why was I surprised?
I shouldn’t have been. I’d stood by and watched her ridiculed since we were younglings. I was never as brave or as unselfish as she was. But today, I would be.
Chapter 1
Ten Years Ago...
The taste of blood mixes with the saltwater on my tongue. My lip bleeds as I hide among the anemone in the reef. I’ve bitten down too hard on my lip again. Provided I stay perfectly still, I won’t disturb the stinging tendrils that dance in the current. This is the safest place to hide. The stinging flowers keep most of the younglings who chase me from this patch of the reef. My safe haven.
“Bailey... where are you?” one voice calls in a sing-song way. Youngling laughter follows.
“I think he went this way!” another voice cries out to my left.
I gasp. They aren’t far away. My eyes sting as I shut them, and my chest tightens. Within my chest, my heart thunders, and panic raises its ugly head. I wonder if I might die. Seven years old, and I’m already contemplating my end.
I open my eyes once more. Sunlight dances on the seafloor around me, the waters warming from its life-giving light—too pretty, too happy for this fearful moment. I wish the sun would warm me more, for my stomach quivers from the fear, from the cold.
Thinking I should run the other direction, so I won’t be found, I lean back, too close to the anemone. The stinging tentacles brush against me. The muscles in my back seize, and I cry out. My hands slap over my mouth, too late.
Laughter from one close by. Another begins to shout, “There he is! There he is!”
And their voices draw nearer.
I dart away from their voices, my vision crowding with black spots. My heart races, and a whimper escapes my lips. My whole body shakes from the dread. Did they hear me?
Panic overwhelms my senses. I can hardly see, my vision narrows. I can’t hear, for my heart races in my ears. The blood rushes through my veins, filling my head beyond my body’s ability to handle. Spots crowd my vision further, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe. My stomach churns. My chest aches. I swim as fast as I can.
A tail slap lands on my back, sending me sprawling to the seafloor. Sand pushes past my teeth and fills my mouth. I choke on it, and work to spit it out while I push myself up.
“Fatty, maybe if you lost some weight, you could swim faster,” one of the voices above me teases.
Another one laughs. “He’s so slow, it’s a wonder he doesn’t float to the surface.”
I cough out most of the sand but still feel particles grind between my molars. Sand irritates my eyes as I spin onto my back and face my tormentors. Stacia and Gabriel stand above me. The twins are the spawn of the Elder of Bermuda township. Both have matching red curls, and it is difficult to tell which is the boy and which is the girl. But Stacia’s eyes always narrow with more malice.
Her glare is fixed upon me. “Worthless simpleton! Why do you bother going to schooling? You can’t even keep up with Mer half your age.”
Behind the twins, four other Mer snicker with their hands over their mouths. Their eyes sparkle with mirth. How could they find this fun? I search through them, but not one shows me an ounce of pity.
Gabriel slaps my side with his tail. “Get up bottom feeder. You ought to thank us for helping you get exercise. Maybe you’ll lose a little of that fat in your face.”
More laughter from the four behind them. As the Elder’s spawn, the twins were shown favoritism from the start. The other younglings’ mothers all want them to befriend the twins. The teachers treat them as though they are the darlings of the township.
Normally, none of them refrain from speaking ill of the twins behind their backs. But this is a show. It’s not behind Stacia and Gabriel’s backs now, so they are all smiles and support. Regardless, the younglings are at the mercy of every whim the twins foster. Their desire usually ends with chasing me around the reefs and ridiculing me.
The trouble is, they are right. In my clan, the lowliest, stupidest, and most emotional carry the brand of bottom feeder. In our school, I hold that position. I do my best to stay under the radar, so I won’t be noticed. It seemed to work on adults and teachers, but the ever-watchful eyes of the seven-year-old twins see me for what I am.
“Bot-tom Fee-der,” the younglings chant in time with Stacia. “Bot-tom Fee-der”
Gabriel laughs, his eyes glazing over with a wild, maniacal greed that says he wants more. More of the power he draws on from the children behind him. More of their laughter and the ridicule they offer.
My heart tightens in my chest. I only want less. Less of all of the things they feed on. Just want them to pay attention to me less. If only they would just—
“Leave him alone!” a Mer growls, the wake of her current pushing me back as she rushes in. Her tail slaps against Gabriel’s chest, throwing him back and away from me.
She sits between me and my tormenting mob, her hands in fists at her sides. Dark blonde tendrils dance in the waves behind her. Although her back is turned to me, I recognize her and watch her with as much astonishment as is painted on the faces of the crowd before her.
Verona.
The quiet one. The one who swims under the radar as much as I long to. The one who had shown me a kindness the first day of my schooling. Although her scores receive as much scorn from the teachers as my own, she never manages to gather the same disapproving glares I do. The teachers expect less from her, so she seems to exceed their standards. But they expect more from me. I hate that.
“Who do you think you are?” Stacia’s face becomes only a shade lighter than her hair as she screams, “How dare you touch my brother?”
Verona doesn’t say a word in response. Her hands remain on her hips, showing her strength and determination. I just stare at
her while no one moves a muscle for several seconds. The whole situation feels like a group staring contest; no one even blinks.
The call comes through the current. Our teacher. Recess has reached its end. Gabriel jumps up from his position in the sand. Stacia sneers in Verona’s direction. “Don’t think this is over.”
Then the group of children dart in the direction of the schooling reef. Verona’s shoulders droop, and she hang her head. The strength she’d had a moment ago drains from her. She turns around and faces me. Her green eyes sparkle in the sunlight, making my heart skip a beat. She bites her bottom lip and leans toward me, with a smile. “Are you all right?”
I blink up at her, wanting to tell her I am okay, and wanting to tell her thank you. But words escape me. Instead I sit, mesmerized by the way the gold shimmers in her hair with each movement of it caught in the current.
She reaches a hand toward me, and I shrink back from her, swimming up from my position in the sand. She is only trying to help me up, but I avoid her touch. Something inside me sparked, and I fear it will become a flame if I let her touch me.
I don’t say any of the things I want to. I don’t even look back at her as I dart toward the teacher’s call, following after the other students. And when I peek back at Verona, she remains where I last saw her, wading just over the surface of the sand with her hand reached out and her head down. My heart sinks in my chest, and I regret my decision. I wish I felt her skin against mine, her body heat in my hand. It would have brought me closer to her then I'd been to any other Mer besides my parents. But I am a coward.
In the days that follow, I prove myself a coward over and over again. I no longer need to hide in the reef from my tormentors, because they ignore me and target a new bottom feeder. With a mixture of relief and guilt, I watch them. Every day I wish I could be as strong and brave as she was, swooping in with a tail slap, and rescue her. Rather, I stay away, happy to be under the radar... as happy as I could be, watching someone else be the target of their torment. Somehow instead, I become the fifth participant in the crowd of children watching Stacia and Gabriel. The only difference I offer Verona is the apology in my eyes.
Chapter 2
One Year Ago...
Stacia swims under the sun, her red hair flowing behind her, half the length of her tail. She ventures close behind where Verona sits in the schooling reef, and kicks up sand all over her back. I frown.
A twinge of guilt pierces my heart before I turn away. None of my business. And as long as I keep my back turned to whatever torment the woman has to endure, I don’t have to do anything about it. But the urge is still there. Deep inside, I still remember the brave little Mer who stood between me and my torment. I convince myself the guilt I feel is because of the debt.
I grit my teeth and focus again on what the teacher who sits at the front of the schooling reef of Mer is saying. The teacher crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Stacia as she settles in the sand next to me.
“You’re late,” he grumbles.
Stacia pays no attention to the teacher but preens her hair instead, shooting glances at me through it to be sure I am paying attention to her.
I am.
But not for the reasons she hopes. Instead, I do it to please her. I do what she wants me to do because it keeps me at peace with her. I pay close attention to the lecture, because it makes the teacher happy. Keeping the teacher happy keeps my parents happy. All I ever do with my life is keep the peace. Sometimes I run myself to the ragged edge, doing what everyone else wants me to do. But in the end, the outward peace I gain seems worth it.
Only within, I feel no real peace. The pit of my stomach churns like a raging pit of fire. I place a hand over my burning gut and ignore the moment of pain. I’m used to this. I know it will subside eventually.
The teacher drones on about human literature, barely getting my attention. Behind me, I hear giggles and whispered teases. Once, the teacher glances in the direction of the plotting behind me, only for him to avert his eyes and continue his lecture. He won’t be bothered either. No one corrects the darling twins and their entourage.
The moment his lecture on Shakespeare ends, the Mer disperse as fast as their tales can slap through the water. I wait until they’re gone. I plan to follow wherever the current carries me, and usually Stacia creates the current.
“I’m bored,” Stacia declares, blowing a breath of seawater into my face.
I blink and regard her. “What would you have me to do about it?”
Stacia glares at me. “Entertain me, of course.”
Ugh. A trap set just for me. My heart races as I try to think of what would make her happy. Because peace is my main goal in life, I would do whatever she asks. But the problem here is that she isn't asking for anything in particular and is requiring me to use my imagination. Do I even have an imagination? I stare into her brown eyes blankly. My mind scatters in all directions, grasping for a straw to hang onto. But the more I struggle to find an answer, the more fleeting the answer seems.
When I focus again on her eyes, I can tell she grows impatient. Her nose crinkles just a bit, and the side of her mouth raises in a half-sneer. The warning signs are obvious. If I don't think of something quickly, I am going to be in deep trouble.
“Can you believe that bottom feeder is trying to sneak away?” Gabriel slinks up next to his sister, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. His eyes still train the direction of Verona behind me.
Stacia’s eyes grow brighter, and she sets her jaw.
I am momentarily happy to see her set her sights a different direction. As much as I hate when she gives me her complete attention, in the pit of my stomach I dread that she is going after Verona again.
I reach out and grab Stacia by the arm. Her eyes widen in surprise. It’s not often that I even touch her. My hair stands on end at the close contact, but I bring my face closer to hers. “Boring. There must be a better idea.”
She blinks, but her expression settles into something she might consider sexy. I only consider it more work.
I dart a glance at Gabriel who still has his glare fixed in the other direction. It’s as though he gets his kicks only by pursuing and tormenting other Mer. And nothing gets him more excited than chasing Verona.
But not today, if I could help it.
Stacia takes a hand and pulls my chin back toward her. Her gaze searches mine. “So, what’s your idea?”
Mind still blank, I blink at her again.
Then an idea hits me. “Tuna have been spotted only forty miles east. Even though there is a planned hunt tomorrow, we could go now. The whole clan could benefit if we get at least two each.”
Disappointment clouds her eyes before she settled into her bored expression once more. “I guess that will do.”
Gabriel’s gaze finally pulls from his previous prey. Now his eyes sparkle with bloodlust. Nothing makes Gabriel happier than stabbing something with a spear. My suggestion is the perfect alternative to another day of torturing Verona.
As we start in the direction of the reef where we collect our spears, I finally chance a glance toward Verona. Her dark blonde hair shines in the brighter patches of sun as she swims, the long waves caressing her shoulders. I wonder if Verona has ever been on a hunt. Because hunting is a group sport, I doubt it. I’ve never seen her with a spear in her hands that I could remember.
“Are you coming or not, slowpoke?” Stacia calls from several meters away.
I nod and follow after her, wondering at how much our relationship has changed. It wasn’t until after puberty that I shed the baby fat and gained the masculine size and appearance I now had. My brother, who had also tormented me as often as he could, leaves me alone for the most part now that I am a bit bigger and broader in the chest than he is.
But the biggest change had been in school gatherings. Once ignored as part of the crowd, I have become the object of several mermaids’ attentions. Stacia’s, in particular. None of them hold my interest with their s
uperficial affections. But I let Stacia lead me where she wants. It keeps the other maidens away, and the peace I have in my accord with her helps my family.
The elder of our clan has taken a liking to me, and often both our families have meals together. An arranged betrothal was likely in our future. It’s only a year until betrothals can be announced. My stomach churns. I shake my head and try to smooth the frown from my face. The less I consider these thoughts, the better.
Stacia stops near the reef where several spears are hidden. She gathers up three of them, handing one to Gabriel and another to me.
Her smile drips with deadly intent. These two really enjoy killing things a bit too much. Once we each have a spear in hand, we start in the direction of the most electric current.
Sharks.
Tuna are usually followed by two of the apex predators in the ocean. Dolphins and sharks. Unlike those two predators, the Mer clans tend to stay in one location, for the most part, occasionally travelling for hunting purposes or migrating for the weather.
Tuna travel all over, but when they come nearby, it is worth the small trek to hunt for them. I only overheard plans for the hunting party going after this pod today.
Gabriel and Stacia’s excitement stems from more than just the chance to kill or stab something but also to impress the whole clan. The darlings bringing home the first catch on a nearby pod would be a victory for them.
Ahead of us, sunlight plays upon the silver backs of the large school of tuna. Each mammoth tuna is an average of four or five-hundred pounds.d Their number spreads for almost a quarter mile. I scent blood in the water. Their grouping stays tight, but the sharks have already begun picking off the stragglers.
Gabriel darts toward the tightly knit grouping, his spear directly in front of him as he rushes forward at full speed. The school parts just before he hits their number, but it is too late. He pierces one of them just behind the gills.
The tuna school begins to panic and scatter.
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