Falling in Deep Collection Box Set

by Pauline Creeden

  Would it be stealing to remove a few for a meal?

  My stomach growls again.

  No, I won’t take them all—just a few. It has been so difficult to find fish to eat, that I am definitely ready to settle for crab at this point. After twisting the wire that keeps the trap door at the top shut, I reach in and withdraw a single crab. I’m not stupid enough to take out more than one at a time, no matter how hungry I am. After making quick work of the first crab, crunching through its outer crust and devouring the jelly-like interior, I start on my second. Crab has never been my favorite, but it fills me up quickly and settles my rumbling stomach.

  After the third crab, I decide I’ve had enough. I set the trap back down with the remaining crabs and lift my spear to return east. I stay close enough to the sea floor to stay out of reach of any boats I might encounter, but at this late hour, I find none in the channel. Once past the barrier island, the currents grow stronger and the sea a bit choppier. The weather on the surface feels as though a storm might be coming to churn things up.

  If I were a Land Walker, I might have need to find shelter for the night, but as a sea creature, there is no need for me to do anything but find a soft patch of sand near a coral outcropping. There I can sleep peacefully with the small creatures giving me warning of any dangers that might arise. When I draw near the same reef that Bailey took me, it’s so late, that I wonder if I’ll get enough rest before he comes to see me. Then I remember how he said he’d come at noon. That’s plenty of time for me to get some rest. Once I settle in the sand, I clutch the spear to my chest and welcome sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  VERONA… MY FATHER’S VOICE fades as it warns me again not to go ashore, but there’s another sound that’s drawing closer. A motor.

  My eyes snap open and my heart races. The crystal blue waters of the Atlantic make it easy for me to see a quarter mile in all directions, and I spot the small vessel heading from the east with an outboard motor.

  Scuba divers?

  I swallow. It’s a possibility, and one that I can’t afford to chance. If the small boat contains divers, they’ll be in search of a reef similar to the one I’m sheltered close to. With a burst of action, I dart to the south, away from the noisy motor and look for cover of some kind.

  Afraid of getting too far and missing Bailey, I swim only a quarter mile away so that I can watch what the boat and its inhabitants are up to. Only then do I realize that I’ve left Bailey’s spear behind. Ugh. I wince at my error.

  “It’s amazing that you’ve even survived seventeen years, born as stupid as you are,” a voice behind me says.

  I gasp and whip around. Bailey’s deep blue eyes study me with a half smile. He holds another spear in his hand and the remnants of a tuna. My traitorous stomach growls at the sight.

  “Have you even eaten at all?” he asks with a frown and watches the boat near the reef.

  With a shrug, I lift my chin and work to avert my eyes from his catch. “I had a few crabs.”

  His lip curls. “Crabs?”

  I nod and decide to leave my dalliance with the human contraption my own secret. “They were easy to catch.”

  “Of course they were. Scavengers. Bottom feeders. Dirty and opportunistic.” He looks down his long, straight nose at me. “I suppose you might feel kinship with them.”

  My jaw clinches. “I’m not dirty.”

  With a snort, he tosses the tuna toward me. “Whatever you say.”

  My arms betray me and grasp the tuna against my chest. Although I want to reject Bailey’s offer, I’m in no position to do so. Crabs are shallow-water creatures. If I want to catch more of them, I’ll need to get closer to the barrier island, if not closer to the humans. And catching a fish is out of my reach. For now. I’ll learn eventually.

  Swallowing my pride, I bite into the fish with relish, and then look up at him sheepishly through my lashes. “Would you like some?”

  Bailey thrusts his spear into the sand and then rests his arm on it. He eyes me up and down once and then returns his gaze to the boat that occupies the area around his reef. “I’ve eaten already. That one is yours.”

  While I eat, I watch the boat with the humans linger a bit. To my relief, no divers break the surface and before I even finish my meal, the boat draws out of sight. Once I dispatch the tuna, I look up at Bailey again. His strong shoulders and taut muscles are desirable in a Mer. He’s always drawing the attention of the females in our clan. But during our lessons, he’s never been first to answer that I can remember. Strong and handsome, but not the smartest in the clan. He could never be the clan leader, but he’ll definitely make a good life-mate for someone.

  “The coast is clear. Let’s get the salve.” His voice is deep and melodic.

  With a nod, I follow Bailey as he darts for the reef. Once he has the clam shell again, I expose my back to him and feel his hands on my skin, gentler this time than yesterday. I still can’t understand why he is doing all this. Is it really just pity?

  “Will the clan be moving to northern waters with the waxing of summer?” I ask, even though I know the answer. I just can’t stand the silence any longer.

  “Of course.” After a moment, he huffs. “But a few will stay behind here in the waters of the triangle… I plan to stay.”

  My heart flutters. “Really?”

  Bailey slaps a hand against my shoulder, and a stinging sensation races up and down my spine. I clench my eyes shut against the pain, and my back muscles draw tight.

  “I’ve been following a group of divers who appear to have dug a Spanish galleon.” His voice sounds suddenly distant. I open my eyes and find him burying the shell of ointment. “The humans seek treasure, but I seek knowledge. I’m hoping to find some literature among the ruins. Buried books tend to keep for a bit before the water destroys them.”

  I nod. Of course there is something like that which would keep him nearby. How could I possibly imagine something else? And what did I think it might be anyway? I shake the incomplete thoughts from my head before they give birth to any hope.

  “The salve is doing good work and your wounds are healing quickly. I believe I need to come tomorrow to check on it once more, but that should be all that’s necessary.”

  A weight falls to the pit of my stomach. After tomorrow, I’ll truly be alone.

  “Stay west of the reef, understand?” His gaze pierces mine.

  I nod.

  “The clan will not come this far west, but it’s best if you keep your distance. I don’t believe you’ll have any trouble here.”

  I frown. “Why do you care?”

  Bailey blinks and for a moment, his eyes grow more intense. Then he turns his back on me. “Who said I care?”

  And without another word, he swims away. I watch him until I can no longer see the dull silver of his tail in the distance. With a sigh, I pick up my spear and study it. If I am going to be alone the day after tomorrow, I need to practice catching some fish so that I can survive on my own. With a nod, I swim to the northwest, heeding Bailey’s warning and avoiding the east. But I’m also heading in the general direction of the barrier island I’d visited yesterday. Soon I stumble upon a school of croaker, but each time I attempt to use the spear, the croakers slip around it as though I hold it still.

  Weak and slow.

  More adjectives that could be used to describe me. How worthless can I be? If I don’t stay near the shallows and the human crab pots, I’ll starve once Bailey stops coming to see me. What sort of life would I lead in exile? Perhaps the thirty days on land would be the best choice. But fear grips my heart at the thought. Wolves and witches. I shudder. My father’s warnings had not been for naught. The dangers of going on land are immense—even the weather is a threat. There are no fish and crabs as food sources for the taking, and humans tend to believe that everything is owned. My father told me that if I take what is owned by another, it would be stealing and the consequences of that action…

  I shake the thoughts fr
om my head and follow after the croaker school. Incompetent and useless I might be, but I am nothing if not persistent. All day long I continue to work on my spear skills and squeal with delight when I manage to nick the fin on a trout. The light wanes under the water and I breach the surface, holding a lungful of water as I survey the sky. The sun still peeks over the horizon, splashing orange light across the choppy waves. I spy the barrier island and realize I’ve gone a little farther north than I planned. Correcting my course to the south, I dive under the surface and head directly for the channel and the inhabited island beyond.

  Swimming up and down the coast a bit, I take longer than expected to find Betty’s house. No one else has quite the wall-length windows she has, nor do they keep them open to the outdoors. And it seems that Betty likes to keep her television much louder than her neighbors. One of the older Mer I knew had hearing issues—perhaps Betty has the same. I settle in position next to the pile at the pier, making myself much more comfortable than the night before with my satisfied, full belly of procured crabs. The television shows pick up where they left off the night before.

  The emotional drive of human life seems otherworldly to me. On the television, I learn that the land dwellers are far less rational and much more passionate than my kind. To the humans, love is the most important of emotions, often more important than bare necessities, like food, shelter, or the acceptance of family.

  Humans die for love. I can’t imagine a single Mer ever doing that. When I was little, I often wondered if love even existed among the marriages I’d seen. Every marriage among Mer seems to be based on advantage. Status, improving the family’s gene pool, whatever the reason. No one wants to parent the bottom feeder. When I discovered what I am—what my father was, I’d asked my mother why she’d married my father in the first place.

  My mother’s answer? Status.

  If a bottom feeder can return to merkind from their reckoning with knowledge never gained before, he or she would receive a warmer welcome than imagined. And with disappointment dripping from my mother’s scowl, she’d said, “I’d only hoped that my good genes would keep you from happening.”

  If only I were more logical and less emotional, like other Mer. Maybe then I never would have been branded with that name. I swallow down the feelings that rise up at the memory. It wasn’t long after that conversation that my mother broke her ties with family and clan and left to join a northern Pacific pod, leaving me to be raised by my father. Although at first times were hard, it wasn’t long before I discovered that both I and my father were far happier without the poison and criticism in our home.

  The wind picks up and tousles my dry chestnut hair. I pull it behind my ears and run my fingers through the length of it. The air and wind pull the hair into knots that have never been there in the past. I’ll have to do my best to keep my hair untangled or I’ll appear more kraken than Mer. I giggle at the thought.

  Betty has fallen asleep on her couch with the television on. I yawn. The position of the moon tells me that it is time to take my leave if I want to get to sleep before dawn.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A STABBING PAIN WAKES me. My eyes flash open and I find three snickering Mer younglings poking me with driftwood sticks. When I bolt upright, they dart off in all directions before forming together in a small school and swim snickering off toward the west.

  I’ve been found.

  With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realize that I’ll have to find a new hiding place, perhaps farther east toward the shallows. If I remain here, it wouldn’t only be younglings that would come and torment me.

  Although the sun glistens through the surface of the water, painting the bottom of the ocean in dancing light patterns, it has not yet reached its full zenith. It will be a while before Bailey will come. My heart still races. I need something to get my mind off those younglings and the potential dangers they portend. I lift my spear and decide to practice again.

  Providence is on my side, and when I focus on a trout, I spear it just behind the gills. It yanks and jerks wildly on the end of my spear until it frees itself. A twinge of disappointment hits me before I realize that with the injury to its side, I can easily snatch it up with my bare hands. Somehow the victory and satisfaction in the catching of the fish seasons it, making it the best I’ve ever tasted.

  I stay a quarter mile to the east of the reef this time as I wait for the sun to reach its zenith. I want to stay close enough to watch for Bailey. When a Mer finally draws near, I wait in my hiding spot until I can clearly see it’s him. My smile widens when I see he holds a trout. I rush out to meet him.

  “Why do you look so happy?” When his gaze meets mine, he frowns and draws in his eyebrows.

  I shrug. “I was able to catch a trout today of my own. I’m getting better at using a spear.”

  “Simpleton.” His eyes roll. “It’s not difficult to accomplish for any young Mer. And for you to get so excited about such a small thing… I guess life is easier when you’re not using much of your brain.”

  The ache in my chest returns, and my childhood inadequacies rise up. I’ve never measured up to the standard set for me.

  Life is pain, and living is difficult. Never envy anyone, for everyone has their own troubles to sort out, my father had once told me.

  I take a deep breath. I struggle with the feeling in the pit of my stomach—the wish that I could be more like others. When I watch the soap operas on TV with Betty, it seems like the problems that humans have are so easy and even fun. I can’t help but wish my own problems could be easily solved in such a short period of time. I sigh. Even greater is the desire to have the kind of love that Land Walkers have.

  “Turn around,” Bailey barks at me and snaps me out of my self-pity. His intense glare pierces me, and I find myself spinning at his order, unquestioningly.

  His forceful hands begin their daily work, but somehow the pain seems less severe than it had been for the last two days. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, wanting to flinch with each painful push. I don’t want to find out how unpleased he’d be if I cringed, no matter how rough his hands are.

  Finally he finishes, and the pain subsides. I turn around to face Bailey, but his back is turned and he is replacing the clam shell of salve at the bottom of the reef.

  “Some younglings woke me this morning by poking me with a stick.”

  Bailey whips back toward me with knotted brows. “Younglings? You’ve been found already?”

  Slowly, I nod.

  The muscle in Bailey’s jaw works in and out as he grinds his teeth. His eyes search the sea floor as though he is reading it like a book. Suddenly he stops and his eyes bore into mine. He grasps my arm and jerks me toward the northeast.

  “Follow me,” he says, but doesn’t wait for an answer.

  He pulls me just north of the barrier island I’ve grown accustomed to visiting. It’s miles above the inlet to the channel and Betty Babcock’s TV. When we reach the stone outcropping, he pulls to a stop. I rub at my wrist when he finally releases me.

  “This is the place,” he says and starts moving about the stones. Once he pulls enough stones away, he reveals an opening in the rock that is just big enough to crawl through. “My brother and I found this when we were young. We pushed these stones in front of it, hoping to keep the grotto hidden from others. It’s been unfound for this many years, I’m sure no one will find you here.”

  I shake my head and widen my eyes. My heart skips. The idea of sliding into such a small space unnerves me. Isn’t it bad enough that I have to live in the shadows? No way can I be closed into a cave. Walls on all four sides? The thought drives a shiver up my spine. “No, I can’t.”

  Bailey’s frown returns, and anger flashes through his cold blue eyes. “What do you mean you can’t? This is for your own protection.”

  I shake my head. “What am I being protected from? If it’s younglings and bullies, I can handle it. I’ve been dealing with ridicule my entire life. W
hat difference does exile make?”

  His eyes widen and a modicum of fear flashes through them. “You don’t understand anything do you? In the clan there are bullies, yes. But they are restrained. Your father has his standing in society, and the elders are there to keep things in check. But out here, you have no one to protect you. If you are found by the wrong Mer, there is no telling…”

  “I can handle myself,” I say.

  “You can hardly hunt with a spear—how will you defend yourself?”

  Anger bubbles up inside me. “Why do you care? What you’re doing goes beyond mere pity. You cannot protect me from others without making yourself an outcast with me. You should never have helped me at all. Why are you doing all this?”

  “I don’t know…” Color stains his pale cheeks, and his blue eyes grow lost for a moment. His breath comes out in a whisper. “I don’t know why I am out here helping you. I don’t know why the thought of something bad happening to you makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know.”

  He darts away from me a short way, as if to put some distance between us.

  “You can’t keep doing this,” I cry, but the thought of him really leaving me alone makes my heart ache.

  He resumes his cold gaze. “I won’t be returning. Your back is healed, and you’ve proven that you’re able hunt for yourself. I’ve shown you a place where you can hide if you need it, and there is still some salve left in the shell by the reef. From tomorrow, you’re on your own.”

  A knot lodges itself firmly in my throat. Alone. He is really going to leave me now. In my heart I know it’s the right thing for him to do. It’s what’s best for him, and I shouldn’t ask anything else of him. He’s already helped me more than he should have. I nod.

  For a long moment, we stare at each other. The sunlight dances on his shoulders and plays in his golden curls. His plain grey-skinned tail barely moves as it grazes the sand at the bottom of the shallow sea. If this were a soap opera, I imagine that I might run to him on my legs and hug him. But this is no show, and I don’t have legs.