by Tamsin Ley
“Now you’ll be broken like Dad?” A thumb crept into the child’s mouth.
Zantu ignored the unintended barb. “Where’s your dad?”
“With the new baby. I’m hungry.”
What’s it saying? Brianna’s undercurrent of thoughts thrummed with eagerness to touch the child, but she held back. Which was good. Merchildren were wary of females. He didn’t need Ebby fleeing into the kelp. He made the effort to think as well as sing his interactions with the child.
“New baby? So Didra’s there?” Mermaids often arrived at a mate’s nest pregnant, seeking a safe place to give birth before wandering off again in search of more lustful prey. And mermen, in spite of themselves, lived for those gestational interludes.
“No. She left.” Ebby’s song shifted to a higher key of worry. “Now Dad won’t get up, and I’m hungry.”
Dread filled Zantu’s chest. Mermaids might not be the best mothers, but they stuck around to nurse their newborns for a few weeks, at least until their mates had lined up a local sea lion or otter mother to provide milk. If Didra had split early, Rubac would not only be fighting depression, but struggling to feed a new child. Entire merfamilies had met their end for this very reason.
“Brianna, Ebby’s hungry,” he both said and sent the thought. “Would you mind getting some food?”
While Ebby followed Brianna to the table, Zantu patrolled the edge of the clearing, sending a long-distance note to his brother to ask if he was okay. No answer echoed in return, so he called upon the nearest señorita fish to carry a message that Ebby was all right.
Ebby’s high-pitched protest drew his attention to the table. “I said don’t touch me!” The spines on the child’s dorsal fin splayed like sharpened claws, and the mottled turquoise tail had darkened to gray.
Brianna held one hand out, thoughts full of curiosity, acting as if she hadn’t heard. Your tails can change color?
The child’s angry. Zantu propelled himself over and put a hand over Brianna’s. He should have warned her to keep her distance. “Ebby, calm down. She didn’t mean anything.”
I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Brianna clasped her hands in her lap.
“Is she deaf?” Ebby backed toward the kelp.
“No,” Zantu made a point of both speaking and thinking the words. “She’s a human and hasn’t yet learned our language. Why don’t you help me teach her? She won’t touch you again, I promise.”
Ebby paused.
“Let’s start with your name.” He looked at Brianna and pointed to the merchild, saying, “Ebby.”
Brianna made a face and recoiled slightly. You want me to sing?
Like this. Taking her hand, he pressed it to his breastbone. The note vibrated from him once again.
Wrinkling her nose, Brianna opened her mouth and emitted a pathetic trickle of noise.
Ebby giggled.
I can’t sing. Brianna crossed her arms and slumped in the chair.
Pull from here. His hand brushed Brianna’s nipple as he sought a spot below her breastbone, and he had to forcefully redirect his thoughts to the task at hand. Her enjoyment of his touch filtering through their mental connection didn’t help.
With an inner sigh, she sat up. This time her sound was a bit stronger but still pitiful and far off-key.
He joined Ebby in laughter while Brianna glowered. You just asked a starfish to rub your belly.
I told you, I can’t sing.
You just need practice. Try to make it lower, he thought, again repeating Ebby’s name.
Squaring her shoulders, she let out a long grunt that rose and fell.
“Oh!” Ebby dashed to the nearby rocks and disappeared.
Zantu swallowed back dismay. “You just tried to summon a school of barracuda.”
Fear laced through the thought connection, and she clung to his arm, looking around. I did?
“There are none nearby, thankfully.” How could this be so difficult? Ebby’s name was an easy note. A baby name. He throttled his thoughts, hoping none of his frustration leaked through. “Ebby, come out. There’s no danger.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know. I’ll take you soon.”
“I can go myself.”
“I don’t want you out there alone.”
What’s the child saying?
Ebby’s small quick form was already darting away, keeping low to the rocks.
“Ebby!”
The child’s trickle of sonic guidance clicks faded in the distance. The child should not be roaming the forest alone. And then there was Rubac’s condition to consider. And a new baby. Zantu needed to be sure everyone was all right.
He turned to Brianna and caressed her cheek with his fingertips and leaned in to brush his lips against hers. I need you to stay here. I must check on my brother.
Can’t I come? I’d love to meet him.
Mermen do not bring their mates to another’s nest. It’s forbidden.
Why?
I don’t have time to explain. You must trust me.
Before she could argue more, he slithered between the kelp toward his brother’s nest.
Brianna hovered in the nest’s gentle current, unsure what to do next. She hadn’t been able to follow Zantu’s conversation with the child, but she could only assume the merchild was in danger. Their singing exchange had sometimes contained notes barely within range of Brianna’s hearing, and she wondered if there were other notes she hadn’t heard at all. She’d tried to send her thoughts to the child the way she did with Zantu, but there’d been no response. Then she’d wondered if maybe they had to touch each other first. Bad idea, apparently. And now her tone-deaf singing had driven the child off for good. She prayed Zantu found Ebby before anything bad happened.
To kill time, she explored the clearing, admiring the way he’d integrated human items with ocean-based needs. The sea sponges for a mattress, the mother-of-pearl inlays on wood. When she bored of that, she tried to nap, but without Zantu to be her anchor, she felt exposed. Alone.
She was on the bottom of the ocean. Naked except for the scrap of silk she’d pulled from the cradle. At least she didn’t need air. For how long? She wished she’d asked him.
From beyond the thick kelp wall, a constant humming and chirping reached her, as if she were in a forest full of birds and insects. She supposed the fish and crustaceans were the birds and insects of the ocean.
Curious, she put a hand through the fronds and pushed them aside, as if peering through curtains. A bright-orange fish met her gaze, seemingly as curious about her as she was of it. It wriggled there, looking at her expectantly. I don’t have any food for you, little guy.
A mottled brown-and-white fish with a spiky dorsal darted up and nipped at the orange one.
Hey! Be nice!
The mottled fish darted side to side then hovered in front of her face, bulbous eyes moving independently of each other to look everywhere but at her.
The small orange fish returned, this time with a friend, and once again the brown fish shot out to attack it. The orange fish let out a pitiful cry, and Brianna found herself pushing through the kelp to come to its rescue. Stop it!
All the fish scattered.
Clear of the nest’s confinement, she took the opportunity to survey the kelp forest. A rock wall covered with vibrant purple-and-pink mossy growth drew her attention. Unable to resist, she floundered forward to take a closer look. The wall teemed with fish and other creatures. A purple-speckled octopus bubbled out of a crack in the rock to slither down the wall and away as if indignant about her visit. A golden-shelled snail plodded a trail over an outcropping while small red shrimp darted across the surface around him. You know how clumsy I feel in the water, I bet, she thought at the snail.
Something stung her foot, and she jerked her knees up, realizing she’d stepped on an anemone. The sting burned like crazy. She grabbed her foot to look at the red welt striping her ankle. Twisting to keep from touching another anemone, she flapped h
er arms and legs and managed to gain some altitude. Without Zantu here, it seemed her body naturally wanted to be on solid ground rather than float. She’d have to pay better attention.
A small shark zigzagged by, startling her. She gulped, wondering if there were any larger ones lurking about. Putting her back to the wall, she decided she should return to the nest. Plus, her foot hurt like crazy.
She spun to retrace her steps and realized she wasn’t entirely sure how. Layer upon layer of kelp all looked alike. How far down the wall had she travelled? Stupid Brianna. He told you to stay put.
The mottled fish with the dorsal fin nudged her hand. She pulled away, regarding it. After the anemone, she was extra cautious. But it merely hovered there, eyes rolling every which way as if it were a sentinel tasked to guard her.
Maybe she could find the crack with the octopus again and go from there? She fluttered her legs in that direction, limbs growing tired from the effort of staying off the bottom. What she wouldn’t give for a life vest right now.
She glanced at the canopy above. If she surfaced, would she be able to breathe air again? And if she did, would she lose her ability to breathe water? She could barely remember why she’d wanted to drown herself—was it only yesterday? Now she had a sea god for a lover. A mate. She could imagine eternity, safe in his arms. And why not? Eric already thought her dead. Going back would solve nothing. She’d been given a new chance at life. At love. And, perhaps, at motherhood.
She kicked her legs again, searching for a familiar landmark along the wall. What if he never came back?
She banished the thought. He had to come back. They were mates. Of one mind. The missing mental connection felt like a hole inside her. Out of curiosity, she mind-called, Zantu?
Only silence.
Overhead, the curious orange fish appeared again, as if inviting her upward. Was it singing to her? Maybe she should swim up to the top of the wall and get a better vantage point.
She kicked her legs, propelling herself upwards with none of the grace Zantu could call upon. The mottled fish followed her, keeping close to her left ear, its song a funny little cicada buzz.
At the upper edge of the rock, the current grew stronger. She kicked harder, trying to keep close to the wall. The kelp forest up top was impossible to see through, but she thought she saw something move. Something large. Sharks returned to mind, and her heart accelerated to dizzying speed. She stopped kicking and allowed herself to sink again. She should just return to the seafloor and walk along it like before, sea anemones or not. Up here she felt out of control.
A broken leaf spun through the current and caught her across the cheek to flap over one eye. She clawed it away. When she could see again, the mottled fish was no longer in sight. Kelp fronds bumped her legs, grabbing her as she struggled against the current. The more she kicked, the more tangled she became.
Panic seized her. She thrashed against the restraining strands. While the kelp held her legs, the current continued to push against her torso, and she found herself lying on her back, staring at a wave-tossed slice of blue sky. Leaves covered her eyes, bound her right arm to her side, locked her legs in place.
What sounded like a laugh reached her, but she could no longer see. Without thinking, she screamed, the sound rising from deep in her gut. She knew it was louder in her head than in the water, but what if she’d just called another school of barracuda? Or a shark?
She clamped her lips together and sent, Help! with all the force she could muster. Zantu, help! How was he going to find her, so far from where he’d left her?
Water stung her eyes and nose. The kelp felt like it was crushing the breath out of her. She struggled against her bonds, wondering if she’d die down here after all.
Chapter Seven
ZANTU FOUND RUBAC lying on a mound of sea sponges, a newborn curled on his chest. The nest was a more traditional merman’s nest, with none of the human detritus Zantu loved to collect, other than the toys he brought for Ebby. The merchild was already there, glowering from behind a dollhouse.
“Brother?” Zantu approached the prone merman through a seaweed garden eaten down to stubble.
Rubac opened his lime-green eyes. “You’ve come.”
“Ebby showed up at my nest complaining about a new baby.”
“Didra said she’d be back.” His voice held a minor key that boded ill for any merman. “But I know she won’t be.”
Zantu wanted to find the golden-tailed mermaid and strangle her with her own yellow hair. “Need help getting milk?”
Rubac waved a limp hand heavy with rings and what he called his prayer bracelet through the water. “There’s no point.”
Zantu took a closer look at the baby. The tiny nub of a tail lay limp across his brother’s chest. A shock of ebony hair floated loosely in the current. But skin that should be mottled with newborn color remained pasty. Had Didra left because the baby was dead, or was it the other way around? His chest ached at the loss. “Rubac, I’m sorry.”
“Will you take Ebby for me?”
Zantu’s throat tightened. Mermen were very good at deluding themselves that their mates would be back any moment. Good at focusing on the children she brought them, in spite of a broken heart. Until his heart had enough. And once a broken heart fell apart, there’d be no return. Zantu couldn’t allow his brother to just give up. “Remember when Dad left you in charge while he went to find medicine for that cut on his tail? How it felt to think he might not come back, and how we’d gone searching for him? Don’t you think Ebby would do the same?”
“I knew he’d come back. I just wanted to go exploring.” Rubac’s mouth twitched upward, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t.
Sweeping the floor with his tail, Zantu kicked a flurry of small shells and debris at the merman. “I’m serious. Think about how we felt. You want Ebby to feel like that?”
Rubac’s reply held a key of despair. “I need you to help so I can try to elevate the baby’s soul.”
If Zantu’s throat had been tight before, now his entire chest felt as if it were about to cave in. His brother’s love of mer-myth and magic could sometimes be entertaining, but in this case, it would likely prove deadly. The myth of elevation said a great blue whale could free a mer-soul from the cycle of the sea. But blue whales only lived out in the wild deeps, far from the safety of the kelp forest. Zantu and his brother had braved it several times before Ebby was born, Zantu seeking salvage while Rubac spoke to the smaller whales and other creatures. Back then they’d had nothing to lose but themselves.
“Now’s not the time to go chasing myths.” He reached for the limp form on Rubac’s chest. “Why don’t I take care of the baby? You stay with Ebby.”
Rubac’s arm closed tighter about his dead child. “I have to try.”
“A living child needs you. You can’t take risks like we used to.”
“That’s why I need Ebby to stay with you.”
“Ebby needs you, brother.”
“You love Ebby, and you don’t have a mate yet, so—”
“Uncle Zantu has a mate now,” Ebby sang from behind the dollhouse.
The heart-wrenching drama with Rubac had almost made Zantu forget about Brianna. He hoped she wasn’t too frightened. Although he’d verified no predators were near, every muscle in his body suddenly burned with the need to get back to her. Yet his brother needed him as well and just as badly. He was torn between two worlds.
Rubac rose from the mound of sponges and stared at Zantu. “You’ve been caught? When?”
“It’s a long story, and I don’t have time to tell it now. But I can’t take Ebby. I need to know you won’t abandon your child to pursue a myth.”
“She’s a human,” Ebby threw out, holding up a long-legged, naked doll. “No tail.”
Rubac blinked, frowned at the doll. He turned again to Zantu, his lime-green eyes now shrewd with curiosity. “Human?”
“I told you, it’s a long story.” Zantu pulled away, relieved by his bro
ther’s apparent return of clarity. “She’s waiting for me at my nest.”
“Waiting? Oh, you have been deluded.” Rubac put a hand on Zantu’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I thought you might be one of the lucky ones and escape the bond.”
“Human women are different.”
“You’re serious.” Rubac settled back onto the sponges. “You’ve bonded to a human.”
“Indeed.”
“I want to hear all about this.”
His brother’s innate curiosity gave Zantu a bargaining chip. “Promise you won’t abandon Ebby and head off to the deeps, and I promise to come back in a day or two and tell you.”
Rubac seemed to think for a moment then nodded his head. “I won’t abandon Ebby.”
Zantu blew out a string of relieved bubbles. Once he was more secure about leaving Brianna in the nest, he could come back to fulfill his promise. “Thank you. I need to get back to Brianna. She’s never been alone.” He pushed aside the screen of kelp to exit the clearing. “Remember your promise. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“You too, brother. Good luck.”
Zantu slipped through the stalks, relieved by his brother’s return to his senses. At least he hoped Rubac was okay and wouldn’t abandon Ebby for a myth. But Zantu had other responsibilities than his brother right now.
Zantu sent out a thought, unsure how far the link might travel. He’d lost contact not far from the nest.
Nothing.
The brown-spotted sculpin he’d left to watch her was supposed to come find him if there was trouble. Not the best guard fish but more reliable than the capricious orange garibaldi fish who often served mermaids just for fun.
He jetted through the kelp, pulsing his sonic query ahead to clear the way. The kelp thinned as he exited Rubac’s territory and reached the ledge down to his own. He jackknifed over a lip of rock, shooting straight for his nest.
Shoving through the thick wall of kelp into the clearing, he smiled in anticipation. He’d never had a mate to come home to before. Inside the nest, he looked around, and his smile faded. Brianna? She was nowhere in sight. He added a sonic query.
