by Sarah Porter
And, Luce thought, the water felt a little different on her skin, though not in any way she could identify. It didn’t feel like fresh water, but it definitely felt wrong, almost sticky. Or somehow slow. Somehow breathless, sad, inert. The morning sun swayed in brilliant flags along the water’s surface, and Luce felt overwhelmed by solitude so immense that it crowded the sky.
Except for, far in the distance, a single dark boat. Luce couldn’t hear an engine.
It was too far away for her to guess if it was the same as the boats that were hunting mermaids, but even so her heart went cold, its rhythm fast and light and whispery. She dived, hurtling deeper than she would ever normally choose to swim, so deep that the water’s gray weight squeezed in on her and the light deadened into a hard slate dusk. She could see the seafloor from here; it must be relatively shallow.
The seafloor looked all wrong. Bone white, with nothing moving, with none of the usual grades and variations of color.
Her instincts told her not to go any deeper than she was already. The pressure was too much, and she’d be too far from the air. Instead she needed to concentrate on going as far as she could at a depth where the boat couldn’t find her.
Luce went down, her better judgment screaming in protest. But there was clearly something very wrong here. The sea had never looked so forlorn. She had to know what was happening here, to understand . . .
There! Something was moving. Luce’s pulse quickened with hope until she saw the limp, lifeless way it drifted. It was something pale, spindly, and complicated, skimming over a plain made of impossibly spiny, whitish stones. A large crab, Luce realized after a second, but it was clearly dead. Its splintered claws trailed over the weird stones of the seabed, clacking softly.
No. It couldn’t be. Those things she’d thought were stones . . .
Dead crabs. Many thousands of them lay packed together in all directions for as far as Luce could see, heaped and askew, their jointed limbs slopped across one another’s shells. Matted weeds; decayed fish; rotting, fluctuating ribbons that were once gigantic worms. All of them were thickly covered in fuzzy, whitish slime, a carpet of disease.
What was this place? What kind of world allowed such a sweeping destruction of life? Luce reeled in place, her body lurching through the water, her tail suddenly lashing senselessly. Horror choked her; she felt crushed and airless.
She needed to slip back to the surface for a breath. As deep as she was now, she ought to swim up soon. Go, Lucette! Instead she stayed where she was, staring mesmerized at the field of unmoving animals, jagged shells, and bacteria. A transparent creature floated by her, looking like a feathery scrap of silk torn from a ballerina’s dress. Countless tiny lacy filaments sprouted from its sides; it should have been wonderfully beautiful. But it was turning brownish, and it draped on the current with sickening indifference.
Go on, Lucette! Now! Her lungs were starting to burn, but that was just for lack of oxygen. Wasn’t it? Or was the water here poisoned somehow? She tensed herself, forcing her tail to spiral purposefully again, to carry her up . . .
But hadn’t she heard something about this, once? Hadn’t someone—Luce couldn’t even stand to think his name anymore—hadn’t someone she once knew told her that there were ocean areas near the shores where almost every living thing was dying? That there were only a handful of species that could survive in them, because the water was starved . . .
Starved of oxygen. She remembered now. All those creatures had suffocated. That must be why the water felt so wrong. Humans had done this, too, Luce remembered; it had something to do with all the extra fertilizer pouring into the ocean from farms.
The water’s weight began to shift off her body and green wands of sunlight reached her. She was speeding upward now, constantly imagining that, wherever she surfaced, the boat would be waiting for her. Could they find her with radar? In a place with so much death, it would only make sense if she died too. Her lungs ached, longing for air, but for another few minutes Luce lingered ten yards below the surface, her gaze searching the green-glass surface above for any hint of an impending shadow. There was nothing up there, only the twisting light pleated by the waves, but still she couldn’t calm the panic that throbbed through her body. The instant she broke through into the air they’d rush in from nowhere, and glinting steel would cut the water so fast that she would only know it was there when she felt her body splitting wide . . .
At last she rocketed upward, appalled by the wind on her face, and heaved in one quick breath before diving again to hover in watery space. Her heart punched at her chest. She knew she was being ridiculous; there was nothing up there. But after what she’d seen of her own tribe and J’aime’s, after seeing that field of death at the bottom of the sea, the whole world seemed jagged with menace.
No, Luce told herself. She couldn’t go through her whole journey this way. She might be killed at any time but there were more important things to worry about. She floated where she was a little longer, then deliberately flicked her tail and broke the surface, looking around at the serene golden light and breathing slowly. A few lifeless fish skimmed past, pale bellies winking at the morn- ing sky.
If she was in a dead zone, then it was time to search for a living one.
7
Favors
“Hello, Dorian.” Ben Ellison smiled up at him from a bench at the back of the town’s tiny cemetery. Although Dorian still felt some resentment over the conversation they’d had about that video of Luce, he smiled back. Ben Ellison was probably the only adult who actually cared about him now that his parents were dead, and in spite of himself Dorian had come to regard him as, maybe not a substitute father, but something like a favored uncle. “It’s been too long. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” Dorian settled onto the bench beside him. The cemetery was at the top of a hill, and views of the harbor winked between the trees. A toy boat moldered in the grass of a nearby grave; probably a fisherman was buried there. “You said on the phone you had some news?” Dorian felt a spike of tension in his stomach as he asked that—maybe they’d found Luce; maybe they knew where she was.
“I do, yes. I’m hoping you’ll think it’s good news.” Ellison’s thick brown hands were unsettled, squeezing and releasing a tissue. Dorian began to get the impression that, behind his smiling warmth, the guy was really worried. “How would you like to go back to Chicago? You can re-enroll at your old high school in the fall. Everything’s set. All you have to do is agree.”
This was the last thing Dorian had expected. “Chicago? But . . .”
“Theo Margulies. You told me once that he’s been your best friend since first grade.”
“Yeah, he is. But what—”
“I talked to Theo’s mother. She’s agreed to take you in until college. You’ll be living with your friend, and you’ll get your old life back, at least to the extent possible.” The warm brown eyes flashed apprehensively as Ellison inspected Dorian’s face. Dorian couldn’t imagine what the problem was. “I truly hope you’ll say yes, Dorian.”
Ben Ellison did genuinely like him, Dorian knew. But he was still FBI, and Dorian didn’t think the FBI usually got involved in looking for foster homes for orphaned teenagers. “Why do you care?”
“I thought it would be better for you. Staying here, so near where the Dear Melissa crashed, can’t be easy. Luckily I was able to make arrangements with the lawyer in charge of your parents’ estate to cover your expenses.” Ben Ellison was looking straight at Dorian, but he was doing it too deliberately, Dorian thought. He was making too much of a display of not having anything to hide.
“I don’t really want to go back, though,” Dorian said. Testing him. He watched Ben Ellison’s broad brown face, saw the nervous lights flare in his eyes. “I mean, you know, there’s my band here now. And there’s Zoe.”
“And a pair of guardians who you know quite well are dying to be rid of you. And a tremendous number of painful memories.”
Suddenly i
nsight leaped into Dorian’s mind, and he knew why Ben Ellison was so eager to ship him back to Chicago. He wanted to get him away from the ocean. If that was the idea, well, then Chicago was about the best you could do. Dorian looked up at the older man so sharply that the thought passed between them more loudly than a shout: This is about Luce, isn’t it? This is to make sure I won’t see her again.
“She isn’t even around anymore,” Dorian objected. His voice was throaty. There was no need to say who “she” meant.
Unless maybe that was what Ellison was hiding? Maybe Luce was back, or they’d seen her traveling north, or . . .
“I know she isn’t,” Ben Ellison agreed, then hesitated. Dorian was still glaring at him, his blood quickened by the suspicion that Ellison was lying to him. “But Dorian, hasn’t it occurred to you that . . .”
“That what?”
“That, as someone whose association with mermaids has been established beyond all question, in the eyes of the government you’re . . . a dubious quantity, at best.”
Dorian was confused. “It’s not like— I don’t have any association with them now. It’s not like any of the mermaids who are living up here would try to see me or anything. The ones who even knew about me are all gone.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Ellison’s tone was suddenly dismissive.
“I mean— What are you saying?”
“As long as you’re living near the ocean you’ll be regarded as a potential problem, Dorian. There’s no way to prove you won’t have any more contact with mermaids while you’re here, and . . . I’d prefer if that wasn’t the case. There are certain individuals whose interest I’d rather you didn’t attract.”
“What individuals?”
Ellison shrugged off the question. “I’d like them to forget about you. If you’re far from the sea, back at your old school and keeping your head down, they might decide you’re no longer germane to their concerns.”
Dorian stared at him, thinking this over. “Thanks, I guess. You’re trying to protect me?”
“Of course I am. As usual. Not that you ever make it easy, Dorian. Or particularly pleasant.”
Dorian grinned a little unsteadily at that. “I still don’t want to go back, though.”
“And not because of Zoe, I’d imagine. Dorian, Luce won’t be returning here. I’m quite certain about that. Don’t waste your time waiting for her.”
“I do actually love Zoe,” Dorian snapped.
“And yet it wasn’t so long ago that you told me you were still in love with Luce. And you expressed that sentiment through some fairly dramatic behavior.” Ben Ellison was referring to the time he’d found Dorian dripping wet on the beach, after he’d broken up with Luce, after he’d tried to get her to drown him, after she’d vanished . . . Dorian glowered. So what if he was still in love with her? That wasn’t anybody’s business but his. Even Zoe didn’t need to know what he saw when he closed his eyes.
Dorian decided to change the subject. “Why don’t you think Luce will come back here, anyway?”
He’d asked the question casually enough, but its effect was immediate. Ben Ellison grimaced and looked away, cheeks flushing and mouth tight. Dorian stared at him, perplexed. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Ellison was ashamed of something.
“Luce is very far south of here by now. That video was shot in Washington, and that was over a week ago. And she was clearly heading down the coast.” Ellison seemed to be keeping his voice as flat as possible.
“So? She could still turn around.”
“Dorian . . .” Now it was Ellison’s turn to change the subject. “Go back to Chicago. I’ve done everything I can to make it an attractive option for you.”
“I don’t want to leave here, Mr. Ellison.”
“I assume you know how unreasonable you’re being?”
“And why would I care if some government assholes think I’m talking to mermaids, anyway? I wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. It’s not like hanging out with mermaids is against the law or anything.”
For a long moment they stared at each other. Dorian watched shadows shifting and twisting in the brown depths of Ellison’s gaze, watched his lips compress with irritation and—Dorian felt more certain of it now—embarrassment. But that wouldn’t make any sense, unless . . .
Unless Luce’s darkest fears had come to pass. Dorian forgot about the cemetery around him, envisioning Luce terrified, hunted, dashing through towering waves.
“Dorian . . .” Ben Ellison sighed. Whatever Dorian had seen darting inside his eyes was hidden again; the older man just seemed world-weary, impatient, tired out by trying to reason with the irrational adolescent sitting across from him. “It might be.”
Dorian’s thoughts were so far away that he was confused. “What might be what?”
“Talking to mermaids. It might become illegal. There’s no applicable law now because there’s no official recognition that mermaids so much as exist, but that will probably change soon. And if it does, it would not be in your interest to set yourself up as an object of suspicion.”
“Are you guys starting a war on them?”
“I’ve told you before. There hasn’t been any decision made yet about how to deal with the mermaids, beyond warning ships away from areas where there are signs of—”
“Is that why you’re so sure Luce won’t come back here?” Dorian’s tone was rising. “Did—I mean—did you start killing . . .”
“No, Dorian. Of course not.” Ellison’s voice was tense and— Dorian thought—utterly false. Like the guy was too ashamed to even do a good job lying.
No wonder Luce looked so hurt and exhausted in that video. Dorian didn’t know when he’d stood up. His legs wavered, and for the first time in months the sky and ground began to seem destabilized, as if they were possessed by the rise and fall of the ocean. “If you—if anyone—hurts her, I’ll—”
“You seem to be going on the assumption that I can control what happens. I can’t. I’ll do what I can for Luce if I get the opportunity, but the situation is probably out of my hands.”
“I don’t care if you can control it! If someone—if the government does anything to hurt her—when she’s the one who wants to stop the mermaids from killing—I’ll . . .”
Ben Ellison didn’t say anything, though his face was tight and sorrowful. He didn’t need to. Dorian could supply the questions himself. You’ll do what, Dorian? Try to kill me? Or maybe you’ll go and fight on the side of the mermaids. Is that it? Even though they murdered your whole family and almost all of them would be delighted to murder you?
Leaf-shadows fluttered on Ellison’s sad brown face. “Why don’t you sit back down, Dorian?”
“No.” Maybe the trouble Luce was in wasn’t really Ellison’s fault, but Dorian couldn’t make himself care. Luce was far away, desperate and alone, and anything he could do would be completely stupid and useless.
“I’m sorry. I can understand that you must feel frustrated at not having any way to help her. I wish you’d realize that I’m almost as helpless as you are, and that the situation is very difficult for me as well.”
“You won’t even tell me the truth!” Dorian snarled. “You pretend we’re friends, and meanwhile you’re working for people who want to kill my girlfriend, and you’re helping them.”
She’s not your girlfriend anymore. Ben Ellison didn’t have to say that out loud either. It was your choice. You broke her heart, you let her go, all of your own free will.
“You have no idea of the position I’m in now, Dorian. There are people involved in this . . . investigation . . . who are almost crazed by what we’ve uncovered. And they have vastly more power than I do. The most I can do is to try to inject some logic into the discussion. Some restraint.”
“Restraint?” Dorian was staring around at the trees, their leaves still fresh and moist and pale green in the golden sunlight. Wild, sweet wind curled around his face, but the lovely day seemed impossibly cumbersome. His every tiny
movement was weighted with futility.
“I can remind everyone that these were once human girls. Children. And that’s what I keep doing.” Ellison’s voice was very gentle now. “It’s exhausting, though. And I definitely don’t need the distraction of worrying about you in addition. In any case you can’t improve anything for Luce by staying here. You do know that?”
He knew it. The bright leaves waved like hands trying to brush him away. “Is Luce even alive?”
“As far as I know, yes. She hasn’t been spotted in some days, though.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me about that?”
“I wouldn’t lie about that. I—” Ellison paused as if he was about to say something he shouldn’t. “I promise I’ll let you know. If I hear that Luce has been captured or killed.”
It seemed impossible that they were even having this conversation. Dorian realized his cheeks were wet.
“Now will you agree to go back to Chicago? Dorian? I’m truly acting in your best interest. I don’t want you in the middle of this.”
“I’ll . . .” Dorian sighed. “I’ll think about it. Okay? But I really don’t think I can leave Zoe.”
***
Back in the frilly room Lindy had given him Dorian sat cross- legged on the bed. The room still didn’t feel like it was really his, but at least he’d gotten used to it. Captured or killed. He opened his laptop, trying not to cry. If they captured Luce, what would they do to her?
“Mermaid sighting,” Dorian typed. The video had over sixty million views now. Then—like some kind of sick ritual—the seals lounged, and the little girl in the red windbreaker wandered down the beach, turning back to stare at something under the dock. Someone screamed. The camera lurched, the sun flashed. Then a voice cried, “My God! Nick, look!”