“On the deck we can shut off the engine.”
Her voice sounded weird under water. Rather than using her mouth, her words vibrated deep inside. And they weren’t exactly words, either. She heard his communication in the same place — in an unused chest cavity somewhere beneath her heart.
“There’s a ladder,” she recalled. “On the left side.”
He veered that direction. They surfaced. Waves rolled and smashed into her, stunning her as her body fought to shift from breathing water to breathing air. She choked helplessly.
The ladder bounced in and out of Elan’s reach.
She dragged helplessly behind him. If one of his arms wasn’t full of her dead weight, he might have a chance. And she couldn’t tell him to let her go because she couldn’t shift to speak.
Rather than give up on her, Elan dropped beneath the surface to try a different attack.
On the bow, the anchor chain dragged. Her parents had taken off so quickly they’d done an improper job of raising it. And why had they used an anchor, anyway? They’d been tied up to a dock.
But now, regardless of the reasons, the anchor was being dragged out of the water.
Elan changed direction and caught the ascending anchor chain. His webbed fingers hooked into the thick metal rungs. The anchor itself was the picture-book variety; her parents had always been more interested in style than function. He shifted to human feet and rested on the flat bar. It wasn’t big enough for her to stand on the bars too. They rose out of the water. The full force of gravity dragged her waterlogged body down.
He gripped her around the waist and pulled her tight to his side, his biceps bulging with inhuman strength.
He really was an indomitable warrior.
She choked out the sea water and sucked in gasps of air. Fully shifting back to human form was rough. It felt a little like she’d drowned. Her throat and lungs clenched. Cold ocean sprayed against her flapping, freezing clothes.
The anchor chain clicked into a narrow portal. The bow curved outward, so they dangled in the air. Elan would have a hard time reaching the deck.
She forced her question around chattering teeth. “Can you reach the deck?”
He tested his reach, balancing with inhuman strength against the roll and bounce of the anchor. “No. We will try the ladder again.”
“Wait.” He couldn’t reach … but she could. “Boost me.”
“Zara.” He held her tight against his warm body. “You will be alone.”
She knew that.
“I will find another way.”
“Zain could be hurt.” She gripped him in terror. “Boost me up there. I can do this.”
He gripped the anchor chain in one hand. As though he felt her terror and knew she was lying, he lowered his voice with promise. “You are powerful. A warrior. You will fight them and win.”
His words were always exactly what she needed to hear.
“I’m ready.”
He timed the roll of the ship and pushed her up over the thick lip of the deck. Her elbows landed on the edge and she almost slid off backward. He cupped her swinging feet and pushed.
She wiggled forward and got her knee over the ledge, then rolled the rest of the way over and thudded on her back onto the deck.
The boat looked worse than she remembered. Dingy lights crackled with disrepair. A broken mini fridge hung open next to her head as if someone had meant to throw it off the deck but missed; it had scratched the deck and dented the railing. Loose black tarpaulin obscured some chunk of machinery at her feet. She had landed in its shadow and she laid there like a lump, disguised, until she got up the courage to move.
She would save Zain. Her parents would not win.
Elan grunted. Something scraped the bow, thudding just below the ledge. Then, a splash.
Zara crawled to the edge and looked over. Elan was no longer there. He had tried to leap after her and missed.
She faced her parents alone.
17
Zara got to her knees and peeked around the busted mini fridge.
Sick, dark feelings churned in her belly, heavier than the seawater.
The deck curved around a peeling cabin and opened up to a trashed sun deck. A single light buzzed on the corner of the cabin.
She clung to the shadow and crawled forward.
Conversation on the sun deck made her freeze.
This was only her second time on the boat, and suppressed memories spilled forth.
Stink of the empty wine bottles. Stinging cuts. Boozy laughter.
Zara took a deep breath.
She was here for Zain. Not her childhood self. Zain.
She forced herself to rise and peer around the corner.
Her parents were standing a few feet apart in the middle of the deck. Her dad steered the big wooden wheel. A half-empty bottle rested in one loose hand.
Her mother faced him, back to Zara. She rested Zain on her hip.
He stared up at his grandmother, silent as usual.
“I found him in a bathtub.” Her mother straightened Zain’s bunny-decorated onesie. “Can you believe it? Zara has the mothering instincts of a barracuda.”
Her father grunted. “She never was too bright.”
“And so plain. Milly’s baby would have been adorable, don’t you think? Look at this child.” She tilted Zain’s unsmiling chin. “He’s better off here with us.”
“Don’t get attached.” Her father swigged from the clear bottle of liquid and coughed. “Sure he’s a merman? The feet look normal.”
“This is our grandson. He has my eyes.”
“You have to transform those feet into fins before we meet the buyer.”
Buyer?
Her parents hadn’t changed. Treating her and Milly like objects. Possessions to be used and discarded. Zara was the “stupid” one and Milly was the “attractive” one, but their value to their parents was the same.
Classic narcissistic disorder.
Thinking that made her calm.
She could handle her parents. They were dangerous narcissists. She was an adult.
Her mother pinched Zain’s bare human feet. “Make these into fins? How do you propose I do that?”
Her father’s eyes narrowed and a nasty smile curved his ugly mouth. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
This stopped now.
Zara stepped out from behind the cabin. “Give me back my son.”
Her parents startled.
In the harsh light of the single working bulb, they both looked older and more worn. Her mother’s cheeks had fallen in, giving her a toothless grimace. Her formerly fit father had puffed up like a microwaved marshmallow.
His mean smile was still the same. “Zara, I didn’t give you permission to board my boat.”
Anxiety sliced into her belly. Fight or flight.
She clenched her hands into fists. “Milly’s already called the police.”
Hopefully.
“So you can report yourself for leaving a baby in the bathtub?” Her father took another swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It was no longer the wine of her childhood; he’d switched over to fifty proof rum. “Stupidity is no defense in court.”
“I’m not stupid!”
Even though she was an adult, a college graduate, and she’d tried to fight warriors in hand-to-hand combat, one word from her father and she was a helpless little girl again.
Zain started crying.
Her mother bounced him. “Hush, Zara. You’re upsetting him.”
Powerlessness threatened her. Of course Zain was upset. They were connected.
Zara’s hands shook as hard as her voice. “Give me back my son!”
Her father made a flubbing noise. “Oh, come on. You’ve barely had him a week. He’s not really yours.”
That wasn’t her fault — but it was truth.
Her parents always knew exactly how to undermine her.
She made fists again. “Yes, he is!”
Her shrill cry made her father wince. He rubbed his head as if he had a hangover. Maybe he did; just because he was drinking with red eyes didn’t mean he wasn’t coming off a worse bender. “Stop your whining. You don’t deserve to have my grandson. He is the world’s most exotic pet.”
Pet?
She stopped shaking. “He’s not a pet. He’s a person.”
“No, he’s a million dollars, starting bid. And you owe us, Zara. You stole our Sea Opal.”
Zara’s odd calm returned. Her anger had awoken and eclipsed her fear.
These were her parents. They were terrible human beings. There was no point in getting upset. Nothing she said would ever pass through their thick fog of self-interest.
In her mother’s arms, Zain quieted as well.
“I owe you nothing,” she said to her parents. “The Sea Opal was never yours to begin with. And neither is my son. Give him back to me now and never come near us again.”
“How dare you!” Her mother hissed at Zara. “He’s ours too. You always were mean. Ungrateful, ugly Zara.”
“Yes, how can you deny your son a relationship with his grandparents?” Her father tickled Zain’s unsmiling cheek. “That’s not fair.”
Zain did not coo like an ordinary baby. He stared unblinking at his grandfather as though he saw under the smile to the real monster.
Her father frowned.
“It’s completely fair.” Zara’s calm persisted. “You’re criminals. Kidnappers, bullies, human traffickers.”
He snorted as if she’d made the funniest claims.
She persisted. “You’re already wanted for skipping out on bail. When the police catch you, you’re going away.”
Her mother flushed hotly. “Because of your lies. Your father didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The truth will come out,” he agreed, dismissing Zara completely as he navigated to open water.
Worry twinged.
How far were they going? What had happened to Elan? Were the police coming at all?
Her frustration resurfaced. “If you’re so innocent, go tell the police!”
“Why should I? We aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Zara, you’ve always been a miserable, stingy girl,” her mother said factually. “Milly was much more agreeable. You’re not wanted, and you never have been.”
The old words hurt. She swallowed the shards in her throat. The calm she’d been feeling twisted into the dangerous edge of panic. Her hands started to shake again.
“Just go away,” her mother sneered. “You disgust me. I never want to see you again.”
“I’m not leaving without my son.”
“I think you are.” Her father screwed the cap on the mostly empty rum bottle and hefted it with a new look in his unbalanced eyes. “I told you to get off my ship.”
“And I told you I’m not going anywhere without my son!”
He winced and hefted the liquor bottle by the skinny neck, turning the base into a thick glass bludgeon.
“You’re wrong.” He left the wheel and took hulking steps toward her, bottle raised. “Dead wrong.”
This was the same tone he took moments before he’d tried to strangle her in the sacred island cave.
Fear crashed over her in a breathless wave. Her vision went black.
She turned and stumbled down the junk-filled corridor between the railing and the cabin. Where could she go? Where could she hide? If she ran inside, he could trap her in a room, bludgeon her to unconsciousness, and throw her overboard.
Zara hit the back railing. The white froth of the propeller churned the water.
Her father trapped her. “There’s an easy way and a hard way off this boat, Zara.”
“Not without my son.” She curled her hands around the railing.
“We’ll see about that.”
In the distance, lights flashed and sirens sounded. The police boat! They weren’t so alone after all. Confidence surged in her.
She whirled to face him. “Are you going to hit me in front of the police?”
He followed her gaze. His expression hardened.
“It’s too late.” She glared at him powerfully even though her chest and hands still shook. “They’ll throw the book at you. You’re never getting out of jail. I’ll make sure of that.”
His eyes widened, and he bared his teeth.
Fear slid through her like a knife.
He thumped the bottle on one palm, the remaining liquid splashing inside the bottle. “I should’ve done this the night your mother brought you home from the hospital.”
Her heart raced.
She backed into the railing and tried to slide away. Her shoulder hit the top of the ladder.
Her father cut her off. Fury changed his face into an unrecognizable mask. He lifted the bottle. He screamed with his crazy. “Die, Zara!”
Elan surged over the railing and smashed into her father.
Her father flew sideways. His rum bottle bounced on the wood.
Elan turned to Zara. Dripping, intent, huge in comparison to her father, and all muscle. “Are you—”
Her father roared to his feet and slammed into Elan.
They fought, struggling for the advantage. Warrior and brawler grappled on the frayed wood. But Elan had the clear advantage. He lifted her father by the thigh and shoulder and threw him into the cabin. Her father hit the edge of the bar and lay in a groaning heap.
Zara raced to the bow.
Her mother saw her and dangled Zain over the railing. “Stop!”
Zara skidded to a stop.
“Tell that monster to let my husband go or else I will drop his son!”
Powerless, helpless, sick darkness pooled in Zara’s stomach. Evil held all the cards. She held none.
But…
Wait. She started to think about this.
Elan was still with her father, but they weren’t making much noise. She thought her dad might already be defeated.
And the fall might hurt Zain. They were high up. He could hit the side of the boat, miss the bulging spray, or belly flop. Once in the water, though, Zain could transform. He knew how to swim.
He knew how to breathe.
“I’ll drop him!” Her mother’s ropey arms shook in the sleeveless tank top.
Zara sucked in a breath and looked her mother square in the crazy eyes. “Go ahead.”
“What?” Her mother curled her lip in fury. “I’m warning you. I’ll do it!”
“So do it.”
“Don’t threaten me!”
Her missing calm returned. Her parents were at the end of their rope. And they were using the last of that rope to affix their own nooses. “I’m not. We’re done here. Give me Zain now or together we’ll wait for the police.”
Her mother frowned.
Zara walked to the control panel and reduced the throttle.
Her mother screamed.
The engine slowed way down. Zara left the rest of the panels and returned to the deck. “Now we just wait for the police to arrive.”
Her mother seethed.
But she was also strangely old. Like her father, who Zara could see down the corridor was on the ground, moaning.
“You were never wanted! Ugly, stupid, weak stain on our lives. You should all just die!”
Zain started crying.
That was it.
Zara’s fury crackled. She stalked to her mother. “Give. Me. Back. My. Son!”
Her mother stared.
She held out her hands. Zain reached for her.
Her mother twisted to hold the baby even farther over the side of the yacht. “You listen to me—”
“No, you give him back right now or I’ll push you both overboard and let the ocean sort you out.”
Her mother frowned. “You’re sick.”
“You forget. Zain and I can both breathe underwater. We’re half mer. He’s immune to drowning.” She glared at her mother with her full force. “How about you?”
“Mer mons
ter.” Her mother released him to Zara’s arms with disgust.
“Whose fault is that?” Zara took her son. “Anyway, if you’re what ‘normal’ looks like, I’m so glad to be a monster.”
Her mother stared at Zara like she didn’t know her.
She didn’t.
Zara had fought her and won.
Zain’s arms tightened around her neck. Zara rocked her baby gently, soaking his onesie against her freezing wet clothes. Blanket, she needed a blanket. But despite the cold, he didn’t let go.
Elan dragged her father down the obstacle course between the corridor and cabin. He dumped her father in a lump beside her mother.
The lights and sirens of the police boat blared across the dark night.
Her mother hugged her elbows. “Okay. You got your way. Now, leave us alone.”
Zara leaned against Elan. “We’ll get off when we’re ready.”
“You owe us. For everything. We gave you the ability to breathe underwater.” Her mother cleverly talked herself into a new reality where she was the victim and Zara the aggressor. “If it wasn’t for us, you two never would have met. Your son wouldn’t exist. All we wanted to do was visit with our grandson. Would you deny us even that small happiness?”
“Tell the police,” Zara said flatly, hugging her baby to her chest as the lights grew brighter and the ships pulled up alongside. “Maybe one of them cares.”
Her mother’s mouth flapped. In the face of Zara’s disinterest, her toxicity lost its potency.
The police took possession of the yacht and booked her parents.
Milly met them at the dock, worried stiff and fiercely frightened.
Her mother screamed at her for being ungrateful. She turned bright red. The police stopped that and forced the criminals into the police car. Everyone drove to the central offices to give statements.
It was a very late night.
This time the charges would be extensive. Kidnapping, breaking and entering, assault. And this time, the charges would stick.
Zara would ensure it.
Dawn was just tinting the sky pink when they returned to their house. She curled with her back against Elan in her bed and Zain passed out against her chest.
Her son had reached for her.
The memory of his small arms tightening around her neck kept her awake with happiness. Finally, their rift had healed.
Sirens and Scales Page 66