Catch of a Lifetime

by Judi Fennell

  "Logan, of course it wa—"

  "Dammit, Angel!" He ran his hand over his mouth and looked away. "Why? Why me? Why couldn't you find some other schmoe to work your wiles on?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "All I wanted was a nor mal life with a normal wife. Instead I get… this. You. I was falling for you, dammit. You almost succeeded. And Michael. God, did you even think about what this will do to him?"

  Tears choked her. "Logan, please, let me explain—"

  His laugh was cold. "It's too late. I've already seen the tail. There's nothing that can explain that away."

  "But, Logan, I… I love you."

  Nothing.

  Only the lapping waves made a sound.

  He finally met her eyes. "I bet you say that to all the sailors." He turned inland. "Go away, Angel. I don't need this in my life. I don't need… you."

  In half a dozen strides of those long, strong legs of his—legs that had walked beside her on the beach, car ried her to bed, slid against hers—he strode up the stairs and back into his home.

  And out of her life.

  Chapter 24

  "ANGEL?" MICHAEL KNOCKED ON THE FRONT DOOR OF Angel's house, then put Rocky on his shoulder so they could both look in the window. It was morning. She should be awake by now. He was.

  "Angel!" He knocked again and lifted the front of his hat out of his eyes. He didn't see her. "Do you see anything, Rocky?" He lifted Rocky over his head, then stopped, snorting at himself. Stooopid. Stuffed animals weren't real.

  'Course, Logan said mermaids weren't real, so you never knew what was real and what wasn't.

  Like that lizard peeking over the edge of the roof. Even though he looked like a statue, he was real. And Michael really wanted him for a pet, even if Angel said it wasn't fair.

  Was it fair that he never got anything he wanted? Even when Rainbow brought him cool stuff like ice cream and soda that he wanted, she'd had to go to jail.

  Oh, yeah. That. Michael sighed.

  Rainbow told him after that stealing wasn't right, no matter what, so he wouldn't try to catch the lizard 'cause that'd be like stealing him from his family.

  He sighed again and scrunched his mouth sideways. Rainbow scrunched her mouth, too. Usually when his clothes or shoes got too small.

  Michael looked at the new sneakers Logan had bought him. These were cool. Red with racing stripes. And shorts that didn't have holes in them. He could ac tually put stuff in his pockets without it falling out. Like the shell he'd found. And the sand dollar.

  Except… oh. Crud. The sand dollar got all smushed.

  Michael put the broken pieces on the window ledge. There were five little white things inside that looked like angels, but one of them fell to the ground.

  He picked it up. Angels weren't supposed to fall; they were supposed to fly.

  And swim, too.

  "Where is she?" Michael tucked Rocky under his arm and scratched behind his bestest buddy's ears. They both did their best thinking that way.

  "You might try the ocean."

  Michael raised Rocky's face. "Did you say that?"

  Rocky didn't answer him. But someone sighed real loud.

  Michael looked around. "Hello?"

  "Oy vey." Whoever-it-was sighed again.

  Michael scrunched his mouth sideways again. If it wasn't him, and it wasn't Rocky, and it definitely wasn't Angel, that meant…

  He looked at the lizard.

  "I'm impressed," said the lizard. "Most Humans don't even think to look at me. But then, I guess when you've seen a mermaid, conversing with a reptile is nothing extraordinary."

  "Oh, cool!" Michael set Rocky down and tried to pull the stone bench over so he could climb up and talk to the lizard. Maybe even convince him to come live with him. If the lizard wanted to live with him, then it wasn't like making him a pet, right?

  "Here, here, don't hurt yourself." The lizard sighed again. "I'll be right down. But don't come too close."

  And he was right down, too. He moved so fast, Michael couldn't see him for a few seconds, but then the lizard was on the window ledge, standing on one of the angels.

  "I bet you catch flies really good," Michael said.

  "Only when there's nothing else available. Do you know where flies spend their time?" Ripples went up and down the lizard's back.

  "I'm Michael. I'm six. What's your name?"

  "Stewart. And if you're looking for Angel, she's not here. You might want to try the beach. Give her a good shout. With the wind, not into it, if you don't mind. She should be able to hear you."

  "You mean she went swimming?"

  Stewart turned his head sideways and licked his tongue over his lips. "Well, duh. It is what mermaids do, after all." The lizard's eyes rolled at different times.

  Cool.

  "So run along down there and find her. You do that, and I'll get back to the nap you woke me from."

  Michael picked up Rocky. "Okay. Thanks. I'm sorry I woke you."

  The lizard started climbing up the wall. Cool.

  "Just don't do it again. Oh, and I wouldn't mention that I spoke to you. The adults of your species never believe you anyway, and I've seen more children have their mouths washed out with soap—for gods-know what purpose—than I care to. I don't need another one on my conscience."

  "Okay. Bye."

  Stewart grunted, just like Mr. Ray used to do after he came back from tying something on. Michael never saw what he'd tied, but he sure knew to stay away from Mr. Ray and not wake him up. The grouchy lizard was just like him. He wouldn't make a good pet anyway.

  Michael hung Rocky on his back, wrapping his front paws around his neck the same way Logan did when he'd carried him into the manatee place. It was a fun way to ride.

  He ran down the steps to the beach, trying to hold Rocky with one hand and the railing with another. Angel said it was 'portant to hold on, and he didn't want her to get mad at him.

  The sand was cold and squishy, not like when he and Logan built the sand castle. He hoped the water wasn't cold 'cause Angel didn't buy a coat with all her icky girl stuff.

  A wave got too close to his cool new sneakers. He jumped away and slid on a jellyfish. Logan told him never to touch one of those or they could sting him. He looked at the mushy mess. He didn't see a stinger. Not like a bee had. Bee stings hurt.

  Another wave got close again, and he almost dropped Rocky. Michael looked around. Rocky wouldn't like getting wet. It made him soggy and sad.

  He saw a big rock and put Rocky on it. Ha ha! Rocky on a rock! He made a joke!

  Michael looked out to sea. Where was Angel? He wanted to tell it to her.

  Well, Stewart said she went swimming, so…

  Michael took off his new red sneakers and put them

  on both sides of Rocky to keep him sitting up. Rocky fell over sometimes, and Michael didn't want him to get all sandy. Rocky didn't like sand. And Rainbow never let Michael take Rocky to bed with him if he was all dirty. Wonder if Angel would let him?

  Michael took off his socks and put them on Rocky's paws in case he got cold. Then he walked down to where the sand got wet. The waves weren't very big but he didn't see her.

  Stewart said to call her in the wind. That made no sense 'cause mermaids lived under the water. But Michael was smart. Rainbow always told him so, so he would call Angel where she lived.

  He took off his hat, then with a real big breath, he stuck his head under the next wave and yelled, "Aaannngggeeelll! Where aaarrreee you?"

  It sounded all garble-y. He hoped she heard him. Maybe he needed to try again.

  ***

  A.C. heard him the first time. And the second. And the third.

  Hades, the entire ocean probably heard the pup.

  "Son-of-a-barracuda! Did you hear that?" He spun around, almost whipping Lou in the face with his tail fluke.

  Missed. Damn.

  Lou rolled one of his black, black eyes. "Yeah, I heard."

  "She's gone. You want to tell me how she got by
you?" Never mind that he'd been off getting some sweet tail from that sweet Abby… Zeus. Old guys. What a bunch of lazy tails. Thought that because they'd lived longer, they were always right. Ha. The reason they'd lived so long is that they didn't have a single cojone between them. All talk, no teeth.

  Lou shut the eye without answering, and A.C. worked his mouth over his own teeth, feeling the flesh give way against the sharp spikes he worked so hard to cultivate. Sharper than broken coral, able to slice better than any sheared seashell, this was a set of choppers to be proud of. He wanted to put them to good use.

  But Harry had said no. Stay put, and keep both eyes on things. Guess ol' Har forgot to mention that second part to Lou.

  Well, ya know what? A.C. was sick and tired of lis tening to Harry call the shots. Don't eat the mermaid, wait here, keep an eye out… When were they going to get to the good part? And he didn't mean the gut. Or maybe he did. It was definitely better than an arm. Not enough meat there…

  Fuck this. He was sick of swimming to someone else's tune—especially someone who wasn't even here.

  He checked out the other Hammers. To a fish, they were all napping. Napping, for fuck's sake. Un-fucking believable.

  A.C. clamped his jaws shut. Shit. One of his teeth cracked loose. Damn it. Now was not the time to need a replacement. That always took a few days.

  No way was he waiting here another few days. Matter of fact, he didn't want to wait here another minute.

  "AAAnnngggeeelll!" the pup screamed again, this time in the air, thank-the-gods, since sound traveled so much better under water and the pup was loud enough to wake the dead—though obviously not sleeping Hammers who'd gone out for a late-night dinner and a game of Who Can Toss The Clam The Farthest. Ugh. Not even an octopus-tossing event. He'd head for the closest retirement reef before he'd let his life turn into that.

  "AAAnnngggeeellll!" The pup was back to scream ing underwater.

  Hmmm…

  A.C. glanced at Lou. Yeah, he was napping, too.

  Well, Hades. He wanted something out of this waste of time. An appetizer was better than nothing.

  A.C. switched into stalker mode—what he was known for. Silent but deadly, that was him.

  He just hoped he could lure the pup far enough into the water to be able to grab him.

  Chapter 25

  HARRY SWAM BACK AND FORTH ALONG THE WALKWAY outside Ceto's Bahamian Palace, waiting for her guards to announce him. They'd probably shove a mouth guard in his jaw, too. The mother of all sea monsters was ob sessive about her security.

  Like he'd try to take a bite out of her. The gods might have stipulated what she could and couldn't do with her goddess powers, but some magic was stronger than none, and since he was a mere mortal, he wasn't about to test her. He didn't have a death wish.

  What he did have was a hyper sense of justice. Sharks had been getting a bad rap ever since that ridiculous Human propaganda thirty-some selinos ago, giving all sharks a bad name, not just the Great Whites. He'd lost a lot of family members over the selinos to the hysteria Humans had created.

  The annoyingly ironic thing was that Great Whites were rather bite-happy. Stupid idiots. Couldn't tell a sea lion from a Human… Now all sharks were paying the price.

  Fine, then. Let the Greats make their own argu ment with The Council, but Hammerhead attacks on Humans were out of necessity, not stupidity. It wasn't as if Bipeds were so tasty that they were a sought-after delicacy. Most of them didn't have enough meat on their bones to make it worthwhile anyway. As for the angst that happened afterward… nah. Not worth the effort.

  The Council owed them representation, but Harry had been beating that dead seahorse for selinos with no results. He was done leaving things up to protocol— and to the Fates. Gods knew, those "ladies" were fickle enough to find offense with anything.

  No. He wanted this resolved in his lifetime—which was why he was about to propose something to Ceto he thought she'd go for. It never hurt to have a backup plan, and Ceto was his. Even though the bitch had kept him waiting the entire night and he'd missed Angel's late-night return to the sea that was all the talk around the cooler water, Ceto always got results.

  Just like he would when he saw Lou and A.C. and the rest of the clowns who'd let Angel escape. Son-of a-barracuda…

  Thank the gods, Roger had had the good sense to let him know what was happening. It was worth every scrap of chum he could steal from those idiot Bipeds to pay the crane to keep an eye on things on land.

  A pair of European man-o'-wars swung the white marble doors of Ceto's palace inward with their ten tacles, the rush of water sucking any sea life strolling outside the gates in with him. Not that there was much. Ceto wasn't what anyone would call a good neighbor.

  But Harry went along for the ride. Let Ceto have her power play; he was about to offer her a big enough op portunity she'd be bowing before him when all was said and done.

  "The goddess will see you now," said a tiger shark. "This way."

  Harry followed him down a long, domed tunnel deco rated in abalone and oyster. Chandelier squid mantles, lit by hatchetfish and strung with pearls, dangled from the ceiling, making the whole place sparkly and girly. Ceto had invested heavily in her palace—taking the I-am-goddess hear-me-roar thing a bit too seriously, in his opinion.

  The tunnel opened into an amphitheater—which it had once been. Ceto floated—of course—on a raised dais made of glass, beneath which the most colorful of the local tropicals swam. Ionic columns held a canopy of sailcloth above her head. Probably stolen from one of her victims—she did love to live up to her Queen of the Bermuda Triangle reputation. Her chair was a sea sponge she'd bewitched into a throne for that very pur pose. Ceto liked true creature comforts.

  "Ah, Harry. To what do I owe the pleasure?" She swept a taloned—that is, manicured—hand before her, indicating the kowtowing area of the orchestra pit in front of her.

  When the previous dynasty had ruled Atlantis, this building had been the in place. Full of hedonism and free spirits, it'd been their final corruption. The gods had reclaimed the throne for Poseidon's heirs and moved Atlantis under Bermuda, giving Ceto, he'd heard, the opportunity to get this place for a song. Literally.

  Harry tried to keep the smile off his face. The or chestra pit. She was really overdoing it. But Harry went along with it. Sometimes playing to her vanity was the best offense.

  "Good day, Ceto. You're looking lovely, as usual." Her malachite hair squirmed around her head, also as usual, and her twin tails shifted through the full spec trum of colors. The false image of relaxation didn't fool Harry for a second.

  No one showed up at any of Ceto's palaces with out reason. This wasn't a swim-by visit and they both knew it.

  Harry settled himself in the pit as best he could while still managing to writhe enough to keep water moving over his gills. It was the one thing he hated about being a shark. Other fish could remain still, but sharks, for whatever reason, weren't granted swim bladders. If he stopped moving, he'd drown. Rumor had it that some ancestor had annoyed a god so severely that the god had forced this on the shark's descendants. Probably a Great White.

  "Ah, Harry, such a charmer." Ceto motioned for one of her Serving Nautiluses to offer him a snack.

  Harry didn't have as much luck keeping the smile off his face this time. The cephalopod acted as if Harry was going to take a bite of him. A little too self- important was that Nautilus. They were even worse tasting than Bipeds.

  Harry shook his head, and the Nautilus left as fast as his gaseous escape mechanism—very appropriate term in Harry's opinion—would allow.

  "Thank you for your hospitality, Ceto, but I'm here on an urgent matter."

  "Oh?" The sea monster leaned forward, her shell fillers almost spilling out of the Human top she wore.

  He didn't get the fascination she had with their cloth ing. It tasted awful, was a pain in the tail to pick out of his teeth, and ruined the presentation as far as he was concerned. Still, whatev
er floated her boat.

  Harry quickly explained his complaint with The Council, knowing he had a kindred spirit in Ceto, then mentioned Angel's escape and how she'd ended up on land. And the fact that she was now back in the sea.

  "So where do I come in?" Ceto motioned for her personal Nautilus and took a handful of mussels off the platter he offered, crunching them one at a time. "I'm not setting a fin on land." She fluttered all four of the fins in question.