I roll my eyes. Why can’t Gabriel be at least as smart a hunter as the sharks? By picking off stragglers outside of the main pod, it keeps the pod stuck together as a group. The tuna school believes the group is the safest place to be. But by attacking the grouping head on, Gabriel told the tuna the school has become a danger.
Stacia laughs and darts toward the fish, stabbing her spear at random and hitting nothing. I sit back, watching the twins hunt wildly. The feral look in their eyes makes them incapable of rational thought. At the moment, they don’t hold onto the appearance of clan darlings. Their true nature shows up in their expressions.
A tuna darts straight for me, the panic causing it to rush in a zig-zag fashion. I frown. No matter which direction I decide to move, the tuna could change its course in the blind panic and swim my way, as well. Only one thing to do. I allow the tuna to come as close as possible before choosing a direction to dodge. Then as it passes, I stab it with my spear.
Blood clouds the water around the tuna as it struggles on the end of my spear-shaft. I hold it tightly, the muscles in my arms flexing with each of its throes. Its eyes, which were once crazed with panic, slowly empty as it gives up and dies.
The pit of my stomach churns again. Though the cycle of life remains inevitable, I still do not enjoy taking a life and seeing the light in an animal’s eyes disappear.
“That was awesome, Bailey. I didn’t know you had those kinds of moves. Impressive!” Gabriel laughs, shaking his own spear over his head, one tuna on the rod, another under his arm.
A tuna behind him blindly rushes toward his back. I point and shout a warning, but I trip over my own words. The tuna slams Gabriel in the back with a sickening crack. Three tunas and a Mer sink toward the bottom of the sea.
Chapter 3
“Gabe!” Stacia yells, darting toward her brother, letting her spear slip from her hands.
I watch them a moment, in shock. Then I realize the sharks are circling us. We need to move. The blood from the tuna, the struggling, the distress, all of these things attract them.
After yanking my spear from my tuna, I stand ready to guard Stacia while she checks on her brother. One of the tuna that sank to the seafloor with Gabriel shakes itself off and swims away. It must have been the one that caused the injury in the first place.
Team hunting now makes more sense than ever. Normally, the hunting party of Mer struck the school of fish, grabbing a few of the ones along the edge, and get out while the tuna continued to struggle at the end of their spears. The blood and struggle attracts the sharks, but they rarely leave the school of tuna, their constant source of food.
But Gabriel threw convention out the window with his attack.
I frown as one of the sharks draws near. Instead of stabbing at it, I push it with the current, causing it to turn away. I could keep using water magic for a little while, provided the sharks only approach one at a time. If they group together, I’ll be in trouble.
“I can’t move,” Gabe moans. “My back... it hurts.”
I glance down at them both, sparing only a moment before returning to watch for potential danger. Stacia’s face is as pale as the sand. She struggles to pull her brother up from the seafloor. At least Gabriel wasn’t bleeding.
This isn’t working. We need a better plan than just playing defense. The sharks will win if we kept this up. I eye the tuna we’d speared thus far. Unfortunately, dead meat doesn’t appeal to the sharks as much as fresh. They desire the struggle and the fight. If we want to be safest, we’ll need to create what the sharks prefer most.
I concentrate on pushing the current away from us in a circle that would throw the sharks back several yards. Not enough for them to lose interest in the prey, but enough that it would keep them from attacking for at least a few moments.
Then I dart headlong into the re-gathering pod of tuna. In Gabriel’s signature manner, I pierce the group of them, slashing the sides of several of the fish with my bare claws. Their injuries cause blood, struggle, and panic—the trifecta of shark bait.
I dive toward Gabriel, scoop him up into my arms, and yell back to Stacia, “Get the tuna and bring them.”
I don’t know if she can carry all three of the heavy fish, but there is no point in letting our catch go to waste. Gabriel moans in my arms. If he has a back injury, as I suspect, moving him might not be the best idea, but it is either dealing with one injury or more, potentially, if the sharks lose their focus on the tuna I’d injured and become curious about us.
My muscles ache. Using water magic tends to tire a Mer out. I had used it twice. The first time, I only expended a small amount of energy, but the second one wore me down. I brace my jaw and rush through my movements, ignoring the weakness and fatigue. Running on adrenaline, I keep myself going. But as I approach the convalescing cove near Bermuda township, my muscles begin to quiver.
I clench my jaw, determined to finish this.
The cove sits near the land of a small deserted island. Rocky shores keep boats away from it, and the shallow waters provide warming sun to heal the sick. Clear blue waters make it so I can see the cove from over a mile away. Once in the shallows, I glance back, but my tail draws up clouds of white sand behind me, obscuring my vision. Did Stacia follow?
When I reach the cove, I find only two patients, but no doctor. “Hello! I need some help here.”
A younger Mer who had been visiting, turns around and I meet her blue-green eyes with surprise. Verona.
Her glance only barely grazes mine before focusing on Gabriel. “What happened? Here, lie him down in this nesting.”
She points to a sand bank nesting that was prepared for a patient. I lay Gabriel down. “He’s been injured during a hunt. A tuna slammed him in the back.”
She nods. “Dr. Trenton had an errand to run on the other side of the island. Stay here with Gabriel. I’ll run and get him.”
I tilt my head toward her and blink in surprise as she dashes to the east. When I had been the victim of Gabriel’s bullying at a young age, I wouldn’t have been so ready to help him as she is. I might have sat back and watched him suffer, calling it karma. But Verona doesn’t hesitate. She and I just don’t seem to run by the same moral compass. Is she stupid, or am I?
Stacia enters the cove, panic-stricken and out of breath. “Gabe!”
She tosses two of the tuna off to the side as she rushes toward her brother. Once she reaches him, she cradles his head in her arms.
“You only brought two of the tuna? Didn’t we capture three?” Gabriel chides her.
She glares at him. “Shut up. Who cares about the tuna. You’re hurt.”
He shrugs. “I really don’t hurt much, but I can’t feel my fins... don’t seem to be able to move my tail much at all.”
I frown. What sort of damage had the tuna caused?
The rush in the current to the east tells me someone is fast approaching. The healer enters the cove in a hurry. He stops just before the nesting. “Is this the patient?”
Verona follows, just behind the healer, but once in the cove, she hangs back. It might be out of respect for the doctor’s space, but maybe also out of fear for the twins who are always worse together than they are apart. And Stacia, the crueler of the two. At least for now, it seems Stacia only has eyes for her brother.
With practiced hands, the healer checks Gabriel over. Every now and then he whispers something under his breath, like, “no external injuries,” or “unresponsive.” The waters gather and spin around the doctor’s hands as he uses his water magic to heal. I swallow, keeping an eye on the doctor and Stacia, but occasionally my attention is diverted over to Verona. The smell of shellfish wafts toward me. Verona is feeding a man lying on a nesting by hand. She gathers a pinch of chopped shellfish out of an open half shell and places it in the man's willing mouth.
What is she doing here? Who is that man she is with? Questions fill my curious mind. The afternoon sun brightens the cove with almost shadowless light. The tide is nearly at it’
s highest, but the water overhead is waning, and the surface is barely out of my reach if I stretch up my hand.
“The boy appears to have nerve damage... possibly spinal,” the healer says finally. “It's possible that it could be temporary. We will need to keep him here and watch him for a few days.”
“A few days?” Stacia shakes visibly, and the blood drains from her face.
The doctor nods and then moves on to the next nesting area.
“What do I do? What do I do?” Stacia’s eyes dart about, unfocused. Finally, they land on me.
I frown. “We need to inform your parents. The Elder will want to know.”
She shakes her head, her red mane floating wildly about her face.
“You can’t leave me,” she cries out. “I must stay here to attend to Gabriel, and I need you to remain in case he has need.”
My frown deepens. We can’t ask the doctor to go when other patients have need of him.
The smell of shellfish draws near. “I’ll go.”
Stacia and I turn toward Verona’s small voice. She stands in front of us, shrinking under Stacia’s gaze. Stacia’s brown eyes narrow on Verona. “Don’t mess this up, then. Go directly to the Elder, and tell him where my brother is. If you get distracted, or fail to do so quickly, I’ll never forgive you.”
Verona blinks, apparently letting the words settle in. Then she nods and darts away. The current parts around her as she uses her water magic to move through the waves faster. I watch until her tailfin becomes a gray blur.
“I don’t trust her,” Stacia says, turning back to her brother. “If there is some way to mess this up, I’m sure she’ll find it.”
Gabriel groans, but his eyes are closed. The rebuilding of cells and tissues through the use of healing magic can be painful and tiring. The doctor told him to rest, and it seems he’s fallen asleep almost instantly afterward. His face still contorts with pain in a restless sleep.
Stacia continues to mumble under her breath about stupid Verona. Stupid? I can’t help but wonder. Why had Verona offered to help at all? Gabriel and Stacia have made her life miserable for many years. Because of their influence, none of the other Mer pay a lick of positive attention toward her. The darling twins have even influenced the adult opinion of the maiden. Yet, when Verona sees a need, she fills it. Selflessly, albeit foolishly.
“Verona?” the man in the other nesting a short distance away calls weakly.
Stacia continues to hold her brother’s hand and murmur to herself. She didn’t want me to go, but she didn’t really seem to want me nearby either. Occasionally, she fluffs the circle of sand around her brother to keep his body raised and in a softer bedding.
Slowly, I meander over toward the other nesting. The man who lays there keeps his eyes focused into the distance for a long while. I study his features. Reddish-blond hair stays by his scalp in close-cropped waves, but his hairline has receded to expose more of the man’s forehead. His slightly turned up nose and the shade of blue-green in his eyes match Verona’s. But what surprises me most is the smattering of freckles across the man’s nose, shoulders, and arms. The sign of a Mer that had walked on land. I swallow past my dry throat. Verona’s father was a bottom feeder.
Chapter 4
I am uncertain how long I’ve been staring, but eventually I draw the man’s attention. His distant gaze focuses suddenly upon me. “Verona?” he asks.
I frown. Certainly, the man couldn’t possibly mistake me for his daughter.
“Have you seen Verona? Do you know if she’s coming back?” His eyes return to the distance where he focused before. Then I realize it is the same place Verona disappeared to when she left on her errand.
I continue to watch him a long moment. I don’t answer his question, and he doesn’t ask again. We remain that way for another long while, thoughts swarming around my head. Verona’s father was a bottom feeder. He’d faced his reckoning, went on land, and returned to tell the tale. Only a few bare the marks of a Landwalker. I have never seen freckles on a Mer before, but without a doubt, these marks are exactly as described.
“He doesn’t usually say much. When he does, he only speaks about his daughter. Even when she’s here, he asks for her. It seems she’s still the youngling of his memories rather than the nearly adult maiden who sits in front of him nearly every day.” The healer fluffs the circle of sand around the elder Mer’s body.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“His time on land seems to have left him with a degenerative disease. His mind slowly wasted away over the years. Now he has very little of his faculties remaining.”
The man lying in the nesting has deep wrinkles in his forehead as he concentrates on the direction Verona left. Scars mark the man’s back and shoulders from the claws of his clan when he was marked for his reckoning. Everything about the man evokes pity.
Even the feelings of pity I have for Verona deepen. I’ve had enough. Too much emotion. Shaking my head, I return to Gabriel’s bedside, the rational place for me. Overhead, a cloud covers the sun, making the light muted. I find myself staring into the eyes of the dead tuna beside Gabriel’s bed. Perhaps we shouldn’t have gone hunting without alerting the clan. I had been stupid not to realize the danger we were putting ourselves in. Maybe waiting for a full hunting party would have been a better option. The full party may have kept Gabriel in check so that he didn’t rush through the pod and break hunting tradition. Because of the presence of others, his manners would have kept it from happening. Then he wouldn’t be injured and lying in this bed. But it’s irrational to think too much about “what ifs.”
“Where is he?” the Elder calls out before he’s even entered the cove and is still a far way off.
Verona trails behind the Elder, as he rushes into the cove. I slide to the side and allow the family a moment alone. Verona doesn’t approach but instead returns to her father’s bedside.
Gabriel wakes, a mixture of fear and sadness clouding his features. He doesn’t say a word but lays still, eyes wide.
“How did this happen? Who did this to you?”
“We were hunting, Father, trying to capture some Bluefin to help the clan,” Stacia whines, her hands clasped together while she cowers before her father.
“Hunting? Bluefin?” His face grows redder with each word and the pitch of his voice rises. “How could you be so stupid? We have hunting parties going out in the morning. You should have waited. You should not have gone out on your own. Whose idea was this?”
My heart sinks, and my stomach flips. I back away a bit more. For a split second, Stacia’s eyes dart toward me, then her gaze shifts to something behind me. I turn around to find Verona standing directly behind me and to my right.
“She did this. It was her idea.” Stacia points.
The Elder’s gaze fixes on Verona. He charges toward her. I shake my head, placing myself between him and the maiden. I start to protest, but the current pushes me to the side with a flick of the Elder’s hand.
“You,” he hisses, grabbing Verona but the neck with one hand.
She garbles a response, her eyes growing wide in surprise and fear.
I regain my bearings and rush toward them. This needs to stop. It isn’t her fault. Stacia darts in front of me and grips my arm. Her glare pierces mine and she shakes her head. She hisses a whisper through her teeth. “Let it go. It’s better this way.”
My stomach churns. I can’t let Verona get scolded for my wrong-doing. But if I take responsibility for it now, I know my punishment will be two-fold. Both the Elder and Stacia will punish me. Not to mention, Stacia would have to endure a punishment for her lie.
The elder throws Verona back. She sprawls in the shallows for a moment, her head above the surface in the air before she scrambled back under. She slinks in the sand, as her gaze meets the Elder’s with fear before her gaze drops again.
“You have nothing to say for yourself?” the Elder cries out, clenching and unclenching his fists. His own claws pierce his pa
lms in the force of the squeeze. A small cloud of blood pools around each hand.
Verona remains silent, her eyes downcast.
Why doesn’t she answer? She has nothing to do with this situation. In fact, she helped when she had no responsibility to.
“Verona?” her father calls to her from his bed. His eyes are fixed upon his daughter.
She tilts her head toward him in response but refuses to look at him.
“Verona?” he calls again, a little louder.
The elder peers toward the man lying in the nesting. His eyes narrow and the lines in his frown deepen. “Prospero?”
Ignoring Verona and heading toward the nesting area, the Elder studies the face of the man who lies there. A sneer forms on the Elder’s lips. “It is you, isn’t it, Prospero?”
The man in the nesting answered the same word he’s repeated over had over, his eyes never leaving his daughter. “Verona.”
A wave of cold washes over me when the Elder casts his glare upon Verona. “The youngling doesn’t swim far from home, eh?”
Still Verona doesn’t lift her gaze from the seafloor. Sun brakes free from the clouds overhead and shines down upon everything in the cove, bathing it in bright light, washing out all of the colors.
The elder sniffs, then returns to Gabriel’s bedside, smacking aside the tuna with his tailfin. Once he settles in place next to the nesting, the healer approaches with an apologetic posture. A hard expression returns to the Elder’s face.
“According to your daughter and the other witness, the tuna that struck your son was an Atlantic Bluefin, probably close to five hundred pounds or more. Your son’s spine cracked. I have healed the bone damage, but nerves are not so easily repaired. I suggest he rest for a few days, and we can see how much he recovers.”
“Wait and see? This is your diagnosis?” The Elder’s nostrils flare. “Are you not our clan’s healer? What use are you to us when you can only tell us to wait and see?”
The healer’s friendly smile remains, although his eyes have grown cold, becoming more of a grimace than a smile. “A healer can only do so much.”
Submerged_a mermaid tale Page 2
