At every turn, I also wondered strange things: did mermaids like hot showers? Did they even bathe? Did they have sinks where they live? Did they have mirrors? Did they have lights? How did they work? What did it feel like not to have legs? Did they live in houses? Did they sleep in beds? Did they have hobbies and families and best friends? How many were there? And how did they turn into humans? How did it all work? And why would they want to turn into humans in the first place?
I went into the bedroom to comb out my wet hair while Samantha had her turn in the shower. I dug my brush out of my bag, ran it through my hair a few times, and then held it up and stared at it. Did mermaids have brushes?
I lay on my deflating bed, looking at the ceiling when Sam came in after her shower. Did mermaids have ceilings? She sat down on her bed quietly, took the towel off her head, and used it to dry her hair. Merpeople probably never heard of a towel. Unless they came on land.
“You all right?” I asked Samantha.
She hesitated. “I don’t know.” She laid the towel aside and looked down at her hands. “A week ago, I would have said these people were crazy. But now…”
“Yeah.” I sat up and looked at her. “Mermaids.” I couldn’t help a small smile forming on my face as I said the word. Samantha’s eyes shone with the same awe I was feeling.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Me either. Some summer, huh?”
She snorted at my understatement. “Well, at least one good thing will come from all this.” She peered up at me with that familiar, impish gleam in her eye.
“What?”
“Hottie McScottie,” she said. “This is your big chance!”
I laughed. Wait…did mermaids laugh? What was that like under water?
“A chance for what? I’m not on the hunt for a relationship, especially with someone who lives halfway across the world. And anyway, even if I was—which I’m not—he’s not into me.”
“How do you know?”
“He can barely stand to look at me. Haven’t you noticed?”
Samantha frowned. “He’s like that with everyone. We barely know the guy and we’ve only seen him, what, three times? Maybe he just takes a while to warm up to people.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” I held my chin high. “He’s cute and he’s a biochemist. That’s all I know about him.”
“See? Another nerd.”
“Shut up,” I said, but smiled in spite of myself. A part of me, the same part that noticed Calder examining sand instead of throwing a football, rose up with intrigue. But I ignored it. “I’m going to go hang up my towel.”
“Hoping you’ll run into Hottie McScottie?”
“Stop calling him that. He has a name, you know.”
Sam grinned. “Ooh, defending his honor. You do like him.”
I rolled my eyes, fought off another smile, and then went out in the hall toward the bathroom with my towel. From behind the closed bathroom door, the shower ran. I’d have to hang my towel up later. I turned to go back. But Calder’s voice stopped me. It came from one of the nearby bedrooms. The door was open an inch.
“Why doesn’t Eamon just send them back to where they came from?” he said. “They’re a liability.”
“Just put the water bottles over in that corner and quit worrying,” Natasha replied. I heard a pack of water bottles flop onto the floor as she continued. “Olivia has information that will help us. And she got the vessel back. Even you couldn’t do that.”
He hushed her. “Not so loud.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t like being outshined for once?”
“No. That’s beside the point. I don’t trust her.”
I stepped back, the towel hanging limp from my hands. He didn’t trust me? What’s not to trust? I’ve been nothing but trustworthy. I was a nice person, wasn’t I? Was there something about me that drove people to dislike me? A prick of old heartbreak, loneliness, and feeling unworthy broke through the walls I’d built to block out those stupid memories.
“I get it,” Natasha replied. “Believe me. You don’t have to like her. But you do need to protect her and her friend. Just stick it out until this is all over, then you’ll never have to see her again.”
I took another step back, my heart squeezing. It shouldn’t have mattered. I had no interest in Calder. I barely knew him. He was just a guy. A biochemist from Scotland who saved my skin at a theme park. Smart. Brave. Hot. I cringed. It did matter. Why? Why couldn’t I just let him dislike me and move on? It wasn’t like he resembled Landon in any way.
Then I realized: it did matter. Because aside from all the things I noticed about Calder, even though I didn’t know much about him, the biggest was that he was Landon’s opposite.
“Here, take the rest of this stuff downstairs for me,” said Natasha. “I need to go check on…”
I didn’t hear the rest. I hurried back to the bedroom I shared with Samantha before Calder caught me eavesdropping again.
“I thought you were going to hang up your towel,” said Samantha when I came back in. She sat perusing her cell phone. I turned away from her and lay the towel on the floor at the foot of my bed.
“Someone was in the bathroom.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied. Some best friend I was, promising not to keep stuff from her anymore. But this was different. This wasn’t life or death. Just a fleeting attraction. I could admit to it, so I could also let it go. If Calder didn’t trust me or even like me, well then, that was his problem. I didn’t have to let it affect me anymore. I took a quick breath and picked up my hairbrush.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” I said. Natasha opened the door. She looked at my bed and frowned.
“Oh, your bed deflated!”
I glanced down at the wilted air mattress. “A little…”
“We’ll fix it for you.”
“Thanks.”
“We’re going to be leaving in about a half hour. Do you think you two will be ready?”
“Sure.”
“Where are we going?” asked Sam.
“We’re going to meet up for lunch with some other friends. You can come down whenever you’re ready to go.”
“Okay,” Sam and I said in unison. Natasha closed the door.
I looked at Samantha. She opened her makeup bag and started dabbing product on her face. She looked at the clock on her phone, then went back to painting her eyes.
Thirty minutes later, Sam and I came down the stairs and to the front of the house. Through the open door, the rain had become a drizzle. I saw Uther in the driver’s seat of the van. Eamon, wearing a windbreaker and a tweed golfer’s hat, spoke to him through the driver’s side window. Natasha and Calder loaded provisions and some equipment in the back of the van.
Calder passed me, arms full of blankets. I tried to keep a casual expression, despite the bite of anger at his words from before.
“How long do you think we’ll be gone?” I asked. He ignored me, passing Natasha as she came into the house.
“It’s a precaution,” said Natasha, her hair damp from the misty rain. “In case we can’t come back here. You’ll be grateful for water and some food if we’re forced to lay low for a day or two.” Sam and I glanced at one another with trepidation.
“We’ll be fine,” she continued. “If all else fails, Walter’s got a fully supplied boat ready to cast off at Mission Bay.” She motioned toward the van. “Go get yourselves a seat.”
We climbed into the van while the others finished loading. Eamon took the front passenger seat. Samantha took a seat in the back by the window. I took the middle one beside her. Natasha took one of the bucket seats in the center of the van. The other was loaded with luggage. Through the dripping window, Calder brought out three duffle bags in both hands. He walked around to the back of the van and stuffed the bags in the little space left. Then he came to the open door and looked inside. He hesitated a second. I scooted over to g
ive him room and gave him a small smile. He climbed in and settled on my other side but didn’t return the smile. I buckled my seat belt right as he buckled his, making our fingers touch. An embarrassing level of heat rushed to my cheeks.
“Comfortable, Liv?” Sam asked from the other side. She lifted a brow. I glared at her.
“Buckle up, ihr,” Uther said in his thick German accent. He looked at us through the rear-view mirror. “I’m not paying to replace any lost limbs if there’s a crash.”
Eamon looked over a checklist on a notepad. He and Uther exchanged a muted conversation from the front seat.
“So you said it was that little whelp Seidon who came with Cordelia last night?” Uther asked.
“I did,” said Eamon with a small laugh. “He’s not a whelp anymore though. You’ll see when we get there. He’s all grown up.”
Uther grunted.
I wondered who these people were—Seidon and Cordelia. What position did they have, where they came from? Who were they? The name Seidon made me think of a powerful warrior; the name Cordelia, on the other hand, sort of reminded me of a goldfish…a mean kind of goldfish that liked to play with knives.
“Apparently, all of this business has been a larger threat than we anticipated,” Eamon said. “I suspect there to be disloyalties running deeper than just a stolen vessel.”
“What was on the vessel? Did she tell you?” asked Calder, nodding toward me.
“Aye,” said Eamon with a nod, “and I’m afraid this particular vessel contains the Prayer.”
A silence fell in the car.
“And Linnaeus saw it?” Natasha asked in a hushed tone. Uther muttered something in German. I wanted to ask…
Samantha beat me to it. “What’s the Prayer?” she asked.
“Not something we should discuss lightly,” said Eamon. “Just know that it’s extremely sacred to our oceanic friends.” He didn’t elaborate further.
The silence continued. Traffic remained tight for a few more miles. I felt a swell of eager anxiety grow larger with every passing moment. Somewhere in all this metropolis, certain people waited for us. Merpeople waited for us. Real, live merpeople.
What would they look like in the light of day? I remembered Delfina’s appearance: she was, I supposed, the favorable image of a mermaid with her striking beauty, long red locks, and big eyes. Then there was the one working with Linnaeus. The guy with the missing pinky. But he edged on the creepy side. All I remembered of the merman I saw with Eamon was dark hair and a strong build. And what about Cordelia? A lovely singing voice, a lithe figure, and perhaps, like in all the mermaid legends, a little flirtatious toward men? Well, no. She was too malicious—more like a piranha woman.
This car ride was taking too long.
We pulled up in front of an Olive Garden restaurant. Weird. Shouldn’t we be at some place with lots of seafood? Or wouldn’t it be better if we went somewhere with a reinforced vault guarded by two huge guys holding machine guns?
Uther parked. “Keep your heads down a moment,” he said, then climbed out of the car. Did he mean literally? I looked at Sam, who shrugged.
“He’s our security,” said Eamon with a smile. “He likes to be cautious.”
So, we waited. After a few minutes, Uther opened the door of the restaurant and signaled us with a wave of his hand.
Sam and I climbed out of the car last. I looked up at the neon letters of the Olive Garden sign. Somewhere inside, merpeople waited for us. Though I had seen them before, our last meeting wasn’t the most cordial. My knees locked.
Would she have her knives with her? What if she felt the need to use them again? Someone nudged me. I jumped, but it was only Sam. She gave my back a small push. I kept moving.
Eamon led the way toward the Olive Garden entrance. He glanced at me, sensing my anxiety. “It’s going to be fine. They asked to meet you.”
Right. Meet or meat? Behind me, Samantha looked the same way she did at school before walking in to take a huge test she forgot to prepare for. I took a deep breath and stepped through the glass door Eamon held open.
At the hostess’s podium stood a smiling lady in a white button-up shirt and black slacks. Eamon approached her.
“I believe there’s a party of three waiting for a party of six.”
The hostess’s smile broadened. “Ooh, where are you from?” she asked.
Eamon smiled. “A wee village in Ireland you’ve never heard of. Our table?”
She blinked. “Oh yes, your friends were seated just five minutes ago. Right this way.” She motioned for us to follow her. Menus in hand, she led the way between the aisles of tables, through the heart of the restaurant.
My anticipation was wound so tight, I thought my insides would collapse on themselves. I stared at people in the restaurant bearing any resemblance to the people I saw last night, wondering, is it them? Is it them? I drummed my fingers against my leg, bit my lower lip, and tugged on a strand of my hair. We finally stopped at a secluded little dining area near the back.
I let out the breath I’d been holding. There they sat, Walter next to them in yet another hibiscus-emblazoned shirt.
Merpeople. Cordelia the dangerous goldfish and Seidon the warrior. They didn’t have flowing golden or even red hair. They didn’t wear seashells or starfish. In fact, they resembled regular humans—albeit athletic, pretty ones—and much younger than I expected. Both their bodies were lithe, tall, and muscular. Both had huge, close-set eyes and chocolate brown hair. Their smooth, dewy skin looked somehow translucent, like they had more moisture under their skin than humans…which they probably did.
They wore simple clothing that looked as if they had just bought it from the nearest Gap. Cordelia wore khaki pants and a blue boat neck tank. Her face had a stately, lean bone structure. Her lips were seashell pink and heart shaped, her nose long and slender, and she had a slight cleft in her chin. She appeared older than her male companion—early thirties, I would guess. Seidon wore khaki slacks with a white button-up shirt rolled up over his forearms. His face looked similar to Cordelia’s, but brawnier, with thinner lips and a rounder nose. And though he bore light stubble of one day’s beard growth, he couldn’t have been a day over twenty.
“Again, Your Highness, it is an honor. And to you, Captain,” said Eamon as he sat. I found my chair and sat down with all the grace of a drunken giraffe. Next to me, Samantha shook.
I knew it was rude to stare, but I couldn’t help it. I was afraid Princess Cordelia would bust out her knives again.
“My thanks, Eamon,” she said in a rich, authoritative voice that didn’t match her exterior. Though I’d heard her speak last night, I half-expected her to have a light, sing-song sort of voice like the kind portrayed on Disney movies. She turned her gaze on me.
Eamon noticed. “You’ve seen each other before, but allow me to make formal introductions,” he said. “Captain, Your Highness, this is Olivia and Samantha.”
Cordelia looked at me. She could have been looking right through me and sensing the apprehension clawing at my stomach. I shrank in my chair, intimidated by the confident curve of her jaw. She raised one corner of her mouth imperiously, then reached for her water glass and took a deep sip. Was she entertained by my fear? I didn’t like it. Seidon, on the other hand wasn’t looking at me. His enormous, pacific blue eyes instead fixed on the other strange new human in this party—Samantha.
“We’ve had the pleasure of these young ladies’ company since yesterday,” Eamon continued. “Olivia, Samantha, this is Cordelia, Captain of Queen Hydria’s royal militia. And Prince Seidon, of Zydrunas.”
So she was the captain. Not that a female captain was unheard of—just odd for this young, runway model of a woman to be the captain of anything. She sure knew how to handle a weapon though, so I wasn’t about to question her job qualifications. And Seidon. A prince. I gulped down a sudden rush of inferiority.
“Olivia is the one who brought back the vessel,” said Eamon. I slouched even more in my s
eat as both merpeople stared at me with apparent surprise. Cordelia scrutinized my appearance like she would a painting by Picasso.
“I suppose that warrants a fair amount of congratulations,” she said with a haughty smirk. Was she complimenting me or insulting me? She also didn’t seem very apologetic for threatening us last night. I scowled. She took another drink of water.
With her hand wrapped around her water glass, I noticed a curious, dark purple tinge to her fingernail beds. Seidon’s were the same. I looked at my own. Pink. Were they cold or did mermaids have blue blood?
“The place appears secure,” said Uther as he came and sat down. I started at his appearance. I didn’t even notice he had been gone. He continued. “But don’t get too comfortable. I don’t like the look of that waiter in section two. Shifty.”
Shifty? I looked over my shoulder to try and see the “shifty” waiter. What made someone “shifty?”
“Were you able to complete your errand?” Eamon asked Walter as Uther settled in. Walter and the two merpeople nodded.
“And what brings you to shore, Your Highness?” Uther asked Seidon.
“He has accompanied me to help retrieve the vessel,” said Cordelia. “The king wanted him along.” Couldn’t Seidon speak for himself? He was a prince, wasn’t he? Cordelia wasn’t his boss.
“And…Delfina?” asked Natasha.
“Her body has been interred.” Cordelia spoke with the expressionless control of a professional soldier.
“I feel it necessary to inform you both—” Eamon paused as a waiter approached. Uther put one hand inside his jacket.
“Good afternoon, folks,” said the waiter. “Can I start you out with a drink? Maybe some bruschetta, fried calamari?” He smiled roguishly at Cordelia.
“Another mineral water, if you please,” she said, unaffected by his, uh, charms.
“One water. Anyone else?”
“Mineral water,” she said again.
“Two waters,” said Seidon.
“I’ll make it two. And for the rest of you?”
I hadn’t even touched a menu. I sat across from merpeople, for crying out loud. Eamon on the other hand, ordered a round of waters, a veal marsala, an extra baskets of breadsticks, a shrimp scampi (Cordelia and Seidon both made a face at this), a lasagna, an extra-large plate of spaghetti and meatballs, and a chicken Caesar salad.
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