by Starla Night
“More money?”
“Blood,” she corrected, leaning forward once more. “I’m looking for a match. With a small capital investment of a million dollars, you will help me get it.”
Herc laughed. “For a million dollars, Bella Taylor, I expect the Atlantis Life Tree itself delivered to my office.”
His office? This terrorist had an office. An internship in the Financial District, perhaps? Maybe he was the resident adviser.
“Help me cure Jonah, and I’ll see what I can do,” she returned, hoping that Starr was logging everything.
“Before I invest, let me ask you a question. It’s one of those cutesy ethics questions they ask in business interviews.” He cleared his throat; the distortion squealed. “A train has derailed, and the conductor can make one last choice before he crashes. On the right is a group of ten adults. On the left is a single child, your son. Someone will die. Which direction do you steer?”
“If that single child is Jonah, then I would destroy anyone else.”
“Even if you killed ten people?”
“Even if I smashed into Times Square during the Thanksgiving Day Parade. It’s not even a question.”
He laughed again. “I believe you would, Bella Taylor, and that’s why I will forward you that million dollars and watch you try.”
Herc would forward the money?
Starr could trace it. The other payment had been encrypted and too small, but a million dollars should involve the FBI.
“I assume you accept cryptocurrency,” Herc continued, sinking some of her hopes. “It’s all the rage on the dark market.”
“Ah, well—”
“But first, let me ask you just one more hypothetical question.”
“Go ahead,” she said, still breathless with the possibilities.
“What would you do if the only cure for your son required you to cut out the merman Balim’s heart?”
Balim’s face flashed in front of her mind. Sexy, dark, mysterious. Hurt and lonely. Also like her.
Heartbroken.
The forming plan didn’t require Balim. She’d cut him off for both of their sakes. The more time she spent around him, the harder it would be when they separated.
And yet she suddenly needed to go to him now.
Before it was too late.
“That depends, Herc.” She leaned back in her seat again and crossed her ankles. “Do I get to use a sharp knife or a dull spoon?”
“Your choice.” But as if he’d received the answer he wished, Herc’s voice dropped to dark amusement. “Enjoy a lovely weekend, Bella Taylor.”
The phone clicked.
Balim was in danger. Bella sat up straight and planned with Starr. Herc’s wish had been more than a pleasantry.
No, it was a threat.
The Sons of Hercules were moving. This weekend. Against Balim.
Chapter Nine
Balim crossed the parking lot, past the missing chunk of concrete shattered in the blast, and scratched at the center of his back. No matter how he contorted, he couldn’t reach the itch.
Just like no matter how his soul cried for Bella, he would not go to her.
He had failed her as a warrior, as a healer, and as a male.
Roxanne exited the building, waved at him, and checked her watch. It was beeping. She talked over the noise at her usual fast pace.
“I’ve only got a moment. I have to catch a plane to my baby sister’s wedding. She’s got the most beautiful ceremony planned, and her fiancé is such a doll. And I must tell you, she loves him for his personality and not his looks—just like Pelan, you know, who hasn’t the best health—because despite being a sweetie, her fiancé has never seen an orthodontist, and, to be honest, neither has she. They’re going to have adorable buck-toothed children.”
She tapped her front teeth.
“Anyway, since Mitch has to be at his son’s recital tonight and it’s a skeleton crew on account of the weekend, I’ve made sure the night security officers will keep the place locked. Pelan’s got color in his cheeks, or at least he did a few minutes ago when I was at his bedside and we exchanged a few words, and I can’t help feeling like I shouldn’t go, but weddings are like babies, they’re on their own schedule, and this one isn’t on mine.”
“I will stay vigilant,” Balim promised.
“Sure you will, and I’m not trying to imply differently. I know things have been hard what with the added warriors due in this week and still no hospital finished, but those vicious Sons of Hercules running around like nasty-tempered shark-mouthed geese. Oh, I have to go, that’s my alarm.
“Call Dannika and check she’s made the arrangements for where these warriors will stay, and let me know if anyone from Systems Tech calls; they have an offer on our data management system. The tank’s repaired, and Mitch has just finished filling it, so as soon as you go in, you can move Pelan, and I’m sure he’ll get better again under the water.”
“Yes, we will move him right away.”
“I could stay to help.”
“Your wedding—”
“Oh, and before I forget, that Doctor Kowalski called. I think he’s looking for a job, and although we can’t afford to pay him, we sure could use a hand; especially once Pelan is up and about again, although I’m happy to give him my hands if they would help. My alarm again. I’ll see you on Wednesday, and I hope things go well.
“Although, you know, I could come back early. My family has seen little of me in the past decade, and several aunts I intended to catch up with, but I can’t help feeling like something’s about to go terribly wrong, so if you need me, I could cut my visit short.”
“Your alarm,” Balim observed on her behalf.
“Yes. Well, I really must go, or I’m going to be terribly late. In fact, I already am. I can’t stand here listening to you while my plane flies away without me. Unless you think I should stay for the health of Pelan.”
“I will assist Pelan,” he assured her.
“Okay. All right. Good day, then.” She hurried away, worry still wrinkling her brow and her crinkly hair flying in the wind.
Balim continued into the building and wound through the halls to the bed where Pelan was resting. He lay alone on a bed, but his eyes were open, not seeking the hall where he might watch his bride, but instead straining for the distant road as though watching someone drive away.
Balim checked his appearance. “You look well for a warrior who has relied on human bed rest for a week.”
Pelan lay back with a sigh. His voice emerged, weak, from his dry, chapped lips. “How do humans heal without a Life Tree?”
“Very slowly.”
“It is terrible.” He winced and rested the meat of his palm against the edge of the seaweed bandaging his chest. “I feel hollow. As though my heart has fallen into a deep hole.”
“Your bride will return soon.”
He held Balim’s gaze. The red-and-black threads in his eyes glimmered with fear. “It does not comfort.”
“She will.” Balim had seen fear many times. “And once she becomes a queen, she will heal you much quicker.”
He released Balim’s gaze and stared out the window. “She does not wish to be here. That is why she continues to escape me. She left me on the land, and she does not wish to reenter the water.”
“Of course she wishes to be with you.” His own words tasted dry like salt powder in his mouth. “On your very first coffee date, she drank the elixir. She shared your kiss, and she’s transformed into a mermaid. All that remains is for you to go to Atlantis, marry beside the Life Tree, and produce a young fry.”
He shook his head.
“Do not give in to fear, Pelan. Your health will improve once your mind calms.”
“I am calm.” His soul light flamed cool but steady, giving truth to his words. “And I do not fear. Perhaps I am not destined to find a bride.”
“All warriors find their soul mates.”
“Faier did not find his.” Pelan sucked in a breath and win
ced. “I have found mine. She refuses to stay by my side. And I do not care. My words taunt me when I speak them aloud. Perhaps you are right. I am unwell.” He closed his eyes.
Balim’s stomach dipped.
If Pelan’s illness caused his soul to separate from his bride’s, then he suffered an illness the mer could not repel. Some terrible curse.
Oannes’ Curse. Also known as…
No, he couldn’t say it.
He lifted the edge of the seaweed. A deep wound pocked Pelan’s breast plate; his body had not filled in the mass, and his bone poked beneath the thin, red scar of flesh.
No telltale blue ring of death. It was not Oannes’ Curse. Pelan was merely exhausted and ill in human form.
Balim sealed the seaweed once more. “Rest here. I will check on the tank and return.”
Pelan faced the window once more.
He looked so vulnerable, and yet he had found his bride. What about the new warriors arriving from Atlantis? Roxanne was correct to worry. Without brides, the warriors would have no hope of healing from a traumatic wound.
He must finish the hospital.
Balim conferenced with Mitch, stripped off his clothes, and dove into the filled tank. His long separate fins unfurled from his feet. He rested on the bottom, on his knees, and took in the liquid via his gills, tasting it. It was clean and shiny. A long crack fractured his view. But it would hold water.
Mitch walked a woozy Pelan into the lab. Pelan’s female helped him on the other side. They sat the warrior, shaking, on a chair. He looked ill.
Balim kicked for the surface, popped up over the side, and grasped the stepladder. His lungs pushed out the water and sealed his gills in his lower back while his fins shrank back into his toes. He put one human foot on the top step and pulled himself the rest of the way out.
“We ready?” Mitch asked.
“The water is prepared.” Balim clambered down the steps nude. “Where is Pelan’s Sea Opal?”
Pelan’s bride frowned and patted her loose bathrobe. “I left it in my shirt.”
“Keep it beside his heart. Always.”
“It was,” she muttered, glancing daggers at him as she hurried out of the room, then returned right away with the smooth gemstone. Her nervousness eased as she returned to Pelan. He leaned on her with his eyes closed.
He, Mitch, and Pelan’s bride helped Pelan up the ladder and into the water. The bride slipped off her robe at the last moment, hung it on the upper step, hugged her chest, and dove. As usual, her gills emerged, but she could not yet shift toes to fins.
“Pelan’s looking a little worn,” Mitch murmured behind his hand.
“So long as he experiences no more shocks, he will recover.” Balim pulled on human clothing, tugging the slacks up his dripping legs and buttoning his stuck-damp shirt. “Set the aerator and filter. The water must stay pristine.”
Mitch checked it.
The InstantPot in Balim’s office beeped. It had depressurized and cooled.
Balim fished out his Sea Opal and poured the last of the depressurized elixir into Warrior Pelan’s tank. He poured in new water and put his Sea Opal back into the pot.
This was to say, Bella’s Sea Opal. Not that she would ever return to accept it.
His chest ached.
“All marks are within specification.” Mitch recorded the temperature of the tank and the other tests into his records. “Almost back to where we were a week ago. I hope the new security gate stops the Sons of Hercules from getting close again.”
Balim did as well. He’d exited the hired car at the gate, limiting the number of people who gained any access.
He examined Pelan through the glass.
The warrior looked better under the water.
The week in a bed had made Pelan sunken and nauseous even with his bride right beside him. He’d received limited comfort from their connection.
Not because their connection was flawed, but because the air was harder to connect through. It was hard for any warrior, healthy or ill. For example, Balim could stand in front of Bella, offer himself to her, even kiss her, and she’d still walked away.
He rubbed his pained chest.
Balim strode into his office and sat in his chair. It was still damp from the deluge. Fans whirred.
He prioritized the tasks Roxanne had left him. Focus.
Bella would have rejected him after she learned his secrets. Secrets he had never told another human or mer, not even the warriors he now considered his closest friends.
But he could not have guessed how he would fail at protecting her.
Now Bella had to rely on human medicine to heal Jonah.
He fished her Sea Opal out of his pot and studied the smooth pearl.
She would never be back again.
Mitch’s voice echoed in the room behind him. “Morning, Bella.”
“Hi, Mitch.”
Her voice clenched Balim’s soul in a fist.
He leaped out of his chair and stumbled into the main room. Around the corner of the office, he could see the entrance corridor. And there she stood. Bella.
Chapter Ten
Balim could not have been more stunned if he’d been shot in the chest.
Warm confidence filled Bella’s closemouthed smile. “Balim.”
He couldn’t breathe.
Her soul light flared and banked with inner turmoil, showing that her calm was a lie.
Blue denim material hugged her curvy thighs, and a puffy green shirt swooped low over generous breasts he wanted to bury his face in and rest.
Something had changed.
She’d had no intention of returning to him once she’d left the hospital director’s office. Yet here she was. Impending doom clouded her arrival, and even though he wished to embrace her and bury himself in her kiss, he waited with caution for her to explain.
“How’ve you been?” Mitch divided his attention between friendliness to her and his clipboard of tank specifications. “It’s been a while. Your kid’s okay?”
“Pretty much the same. I came to talk to Balim about him, actually.”
“Good thought. He’s never lost a patient.”
“Never?”
“That’s what the warriors said. He—”
“You know each other,” Balim said.
Everyone knew her but him. Dannika had known her. Faier had also. Now, Mitch.
“Mitch’s son is the same age as Jonah,” Bella offered, as though that explained anything. “He helped me with the elixir when we were conducting tests on Jonah.”
“Before you surfaced,” Mitch said.
The coincidences of how close Bella had been this whole time shook Balim. Only two weeks ago, he’d thought their near-miss at the emergency department was the closest they would ever pass.
Yet she had met Mitch. She’d visited this lab. Knew security.
He’d felt her everywhere and thought she was beyond his reach.
In that time, she’d felt nothing.
He pulled himself together, calmed his shock, and gifted her his steady professionalism. Uncontrollable resonance did not draw her the way it drew him.
She would never come to him.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
She smiled with a closed mouth and set a teasing tone. “You don’t sound that pleased to see me, your fated soul mate.”
“The sooner I give you what you need, the sooner you will leave me again.”
Mitch gave him a side-eye, then backed out of the room and escaped down the hall to give them privacy. Pelan and his bride, sleeping in the tank, would not respond.
Bella laughed, startled by his accuracy. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
“Am I wrong?”
Her laughter died.
“You had no intention of returning. Something has gone wrong.”
“I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay.”
“You are doing it again.”
She put her hand to her mout
h. “Doing what?”
“That. Yes.” He nodded to remind her he could see her true emotions reflected in her soul, not only the falseness of her smile. “You lie when you pretend to smile.”
“It’s only because…fine. We’ll do this the mer way. Blunt and with no accounting for social graces.” She dropped her hand and rested her thumb in her pocket. “I came to see you.”
His chest squeezed. He cleared his dry throat. “Now I am seen.”
“And to ask something…”
“Ask.”
She diverted her gaze and strolled around the tank. The devices behind her ears emitted the high-pitched shrieking.
“This place is clean. No listening devices here. It’s secure.”
“Aside from the devices behind your ears, yes.”
She struck him with her startled gaze and then veered away again. “Are you staying here all weekend?”
“Unless I am called away.”
“You might ignore any call-outs until you have better security.”
“Why?”
“Here seems like a safe place to hide from the Sons of Hercules.”
His failure stabbed into him again.
He clenched his hand into a fist around the pearl in his palm. Every instant she was here, he had to use his entire strength to stop himself from falling at her knees and begging forgiveness. “Ask your question, Bella.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re making this a little hard, you know.”
“How so?”
“Do you not know?” She laughed, nerves mixing with disgruntlement. “I’m worried about the Sons of Hercules, and I’m trying to ask if you would…” Her gaze focused on his fist. Her fake smile wiped away. “Is that your Sea Opal?”
His fingers opened on the smooth pearl. Smaller than some other warriors’, still tinted with the minerals of his home city, and all his.
He extended it.
She pulled it into her cupped hands.
Her fingertips ghosted across his palm.
Shivers walked up his spine. He clenched his hand.
She lifted the pearly gemstone. It looked larger in her hands than in his. Wonder and terror lit her face. She studied the Sea Opal with an uncomfortable mix of honest emotions.
