Vicious Deep

by Zoraida Cordova

  “I thought you were dead meat, ladybird,” Marty says, pulling her down so that she sits on his lap. I don’t know what it is about Marty, but he’s easy to be comfortable with. She doesn’t even smack him the way she would’ve smacked Angelo or one of the boys.

  “I don’t know what you were thinking,” Kurt says, “challenging Elias like that. And you. You’re a champion. There are things you’re not supposed to do. It’s a wonder the entire court didn’t get into an uproar.”

  “Oh, they had an uproar,” Layla goes. “Your grandfather just put an end to it right away. After two of the guards pulled you out, another two went back to look for Elias. No one knew what happened. His girlfriend was screaming, ‘I want him dead! I want revenge!’ about you and went crazy.”

  “She’s hot, too hot for a creep like Elias,” Marty says.

  “Does she have any magic?” I wiggle my fingers.

  “No. It would’ve been common knowledge if her family still had magics. The king decreed that those who still do must make it known.” Kurt eyes me curiously. “Why do you ask?

  “No reason.”

  Thalia swings from the mast deck to the main deck on a rope. She crashes between her brother and me. “She’s not very nice. Then again, I wouldn’t be nice either if my father had promised me to marry Elias.”

  Part of me feels ashamed. I know I didn’t like Elias. But I didn’t kill him. He was alive. I know he was. Hell, if he hadn’t passed out, he would’ve probably killed me.

  “Did you tell them what you are yet?” Thalia says, looking from Marty to us.

  His eyes go wide and he stares at her. “That’s so uncool, ladybird.”

  Thalia giggles, her green hair flying all over my face as we ride against a small wave and strong wind.

  “Well?” I’m waiting.

  “I’m not going to tell you.” Thalia puts a finger to her lips.

  Marty looks more relieved.

  “It’s not my fault I’m cleverer than you all.” Thalia stands. She holds on to the side of the ship and looks out at the night. The barely there sliver of moon casts a silver glow on the water. There’s a dark mound out there that must be Coney Island. She looks back at us over one shoulder and winks. She pulls her shirt over her head and pulls her puffy skirt down. I look away because it’s just weird looking at her like that. She steps on the rail and jumps over. I catch a shimmer of green scales and the translucent tip of her fins.

  “I love skinny-dipping.” Marty stands, pushing Layla to the ground. He’s undoing his belt buckle.

  “Whoa, whoa. Technically she’s dressed, as far as mermaids go,” I say.

  Kurt shakes his head. “No, some of us wear more clothes than others. Purely for decoration, like the princesses. But it’s bothersome when you’re in and out of the water.”

  “See, that settles it.”

  “Marty, gross!” Layla shields her eyes as he drops his jeans and boxers, which are white with little red kisses. There’s a second splash.

  Suddenly I nudge Layla. I think of her face sleeping, the way she pulled me closer and lay on my chest. “Remember when we went skinny-dipping off the pier this winter?”

  Layla shakes her head and tries to suppress a laugh. “I don’t know who had a bigger heart attack, the police officer who found us or my mother when he told her.”

  She hugs her knees and stares at her toes. It’s like we’re in my living room again, talking smack about the girls she doesn’t like and letting a movie run in the background for white noise. Her hair tangles in the breeze, and when she looks up, I can see her eyes are glazed over. “What’s going to happen now?”

  “Guess I have to search for an oracle and get the trident pieces back.” When I say that, it doesn’t sound so hard. Then I let my mind go dark. “What if the others get to them first? They have entire kingdoms as a resource. I have you.” I nod to Kurt. “No offense.”

  “I’m not hurt. You’re right. I’m but one source of knowledge. We also have your mother and Thalia, who has her own resources, believe it or not.”

  “And me,” Layla adds.

  “You’re not in this. I can’t have you almost killed again.”

  She picks at the chipping yellow nail polish on her toes. Her lavender scent is thin in the sea breeze, but it’s still there. Her lips are pursed, stubborn, decided. She’s all You’re not the boss of me, Tristan Hart. “Remember when you had that harebrained idea to sail off to the Mississippi like Huck and Jim?” she says.

  “Yeah, I needed someone to make me some sandwiches while I sailed.”

  “Shut up.” She gets up in my face. Her pretty hazel eyes stare me down; her hair gets blown right in my face. I could kiss her now if I wanted to. “I went because I knew you wouldn’t make it a day without me,” she says. “Plus, it’s not a Coney Island summer without you. So I’m in. Because you’re the biggest jerk on the planet, but you’re my jerk.”

  “Don’t spare my feelings.” I press my hand to my heart and change the subject. “So what’d you get?”

  Her expression flits from confusion to duh. She pulls out a thin gold chain with a shell dangling from it. It’s a simple little thing; it looks like a spiral that starts off small and ends in a horn-shaped opening.

  Kurt nods, Mr. Know-It-All. “Spirula spirula. The symbol of your family. May I?” He takes the necklace from her hands and undoes the clasp. He kneels behind her, and she gathers her hair away from her neck and lets him put it on.

  I was going to do that.

  Maybe I wasn’t, but if she’d asked me to, I would have.

  Arion clears his throat. “Sire, we’ve reached the shore.”

  I run up to the mast deck and grab on to a rope. The mist that’s been clinging to Coney Island for the last couple of days is still there, but it’s thinning. Luna Park isn’t lit up, which is weird for this time of year, but the rest of Brooklyn is there. The entire city is still awake in its own way. The dark shape of the south pier comes into focus. The urchin brothers are flashes of blue and purple, running along the deck and up on the sails, getting ready for us to stop. My stomach flips like when I’m at the top of the Cyclone, and just like that we’ve landed. There’s a hard splash when the anchor drops down.

  “Honey, we’re home,” Layla says, sneaking up behind me and leaning her head on my arm.

  “Yeah.”

  “This is where I leave you, sire.” Arion’s black ropes bring him down to where we stand. His black and white scales shimmer in the hazy yellow lights on the pier. “Should you need me, I am but a call away.” He pats the golden horn hanging on a leather strap across his chest.

  “Thanks a lot, man.” I hold out my hand to him. I don’t know how merpeople say hi and bye. I guess I should add that to the things I still need Kurt to teach me.

  Arion stares at my hand like he doesn’t know what’s required of him.

  Layla laughs. “Look, Arion.” She slaps my hand, our fingers hooking in the universal Hey, man, what’s good? hand slap. I guess it’s not as universal as I thought.

  “Ah.” His booming laughter echoes as he does as Layla shows him. “My very best.” He can’t help it; he still bows.

  I run to the window and pull open the curtains. There’s sun! No more fog. Summer in Coney Island is here, like my grandfather said it would be.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you that happy since you were eight and there was a blizzard.” Dad stands in jeans and a white T-shirt. As he takes a sip from his coffee, the smell wafts toward me and my stomach grumbles.

  “Hungry?”

  “Ugh, merpeople are not known for their culinary skills. I ate jellyfish-brain Jell-O.”

  “Blech.” He waves me toward the kitchen. “Kurt’s in your bathroom, and Thalia is in your mom’s. I think she’s using my shampoo to make bubbles.”
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  “Those darn mermaids.” I find two cold slices of leftover meat-lover’s pizza, which I devour in five bites.

  “Don’t get too full. Mom wants to make pancakes.”

  “Did I mention they make these green biscuit things like pancakes, but they’re like mushy shrimp and seaweed?”

  He sticks his tongue out in distaste and spreads open the newspaper.

  “Sorry we woke you last night when we got home. I had no idea what time it was.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You kids spoiled the wonderful evening your mom and I were having.”

  “Ugh, disgusting.” I put my fingers in my ears, but I can still hear him laughing. I grab a glass and some OJ.

  “Oh, come on, son, your merbaby zygote didn’t make itself.”

  Orange juice comes out of my nose. It burns, and my dad just rustles his newspaper so he can read it better.

  “You’ve got juice all over your face,” Kurt says.

  Dad leaves the Brooklyn Star open on an article that reads “Vampire Puppy Sequestered” with “Rise in Missing Teen Boys” right across from it.

  Mom walks in wearing one of those long summer dresses that reaches the floor. “Did you see what your dad made for you?” She points out a huge map on the kitchen wall behind me.

  “Dad?”

  “Well, your mom said there could be maps involved. I figure it’s the least I can do to help.”

  There are geographical maps of the world. One of all the continents, smaller ones of the magnified continents, one for North America, and one of New York City. There’s a cluster of push pins at the corner of the NYC map. I grab a blue one and push it on our street. Here. “Command Central.”

  Mom pulls out the box of pancake mix and a frying pan. “Now, from the beginning.”

  •••

  I don’t spare any details. From Arion and the urchin brothers catching Layla on the ship to how my grandfather split the trident into three. But not the part where I fall asleep with Layla. I keep that to myself.

  I forgot to tell Kurt and Thalia to leave out the part about Nieve, because it’s just going to freak Mom out. So, of course, Thalia blurts it out. “Aunt Maia, what do you know of the sea witch Nieve?”

  My mom’s fork grinds against the plate. “My father imprisoned her. She’s in the caves.”

  Thalia bites her lip. I guess every family has the crazy relative no one wants to talk about. In our case, we have a crazy shark-mouthed sea witch who likes to kill her family. “She’s been attacking Tristan.”

  “What?”

  “But only through my dreams,” I add. Sure, that makes it better.

  Dad looks confused. “Who is she?”

  “A wretched woman with the powers of the greats. We’ve never been able to prove it, but she killed my mother. I know she did.” Mom’s fist is white around her fork as she holds it. Her turquoise eyes catch me with a fury I’ve never seen come out of her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “How long have you been seeing her?”

  “Since the day of the storm. I hadn’t changed yet, so how was I supposed to know I wasn’t just going crazy after having survived something like that?

  “Did she hurt you?”

  “She definitely had the opportunity, but it felt more like she was playing with me.”

  Mom shakes her head silently. “She was rather good at trying to make others insane.” Mom pushes her plate away. “She’d delve into your mind and make you see things that weren’t real. You’d be defenseless if she could get her hands on you.”

  “Wait. He gave me a dagger.” I run out to the living room and unzip my bag. The black sphere in the center of the handle swirls slowly, like it’s in a time of its own.

  Dad chuckles. “It’s no lightsaber, but it’ll do the trick. Let’s hope you don’t have to use it too soon.”

  “It’s curious,” Mom says. “Nieve has been in the caves so long that entire generations don’t know of her. How does she know of Tristan?”

  “There’s a traitor on the island,” Kurt says. “The guards are spread out, and more are being called. Maybe she’s not only after Tristan.”

  “She always wanted my father’s throne.”

  “In which case, none of the champions are safe.”

  I draw Nieve’s likeness on a napkin with black marker, a crude shark mermaid. I secure it on the map off the coast of Coney. “If the next full moon is on June 26, I have seventeen days as of right now. A little more than a forknight, or whatever it’s called. If I were a sea oracle, where would I be?”

  I wish I had a sound track of crickets playing in the background, because that’s what this silence sounds like—crickets. Dad pressing the pages of the Brooklyn Star flat on the table, Mom fuming in my direction with her arms crossed over her chest, and Kurt and Thalia eating as much syrup as we have stored in the pantry. Right, my champion team.

  “Oh!” Mom gets up. “When I was girl, my sister Alcyone and I used to play around one of the oracle’s caves. She was a mean, nasty old thing. One time—” She looks about the room. “You don’t need to know about that part. Another time, our cousin Lucillia dared us to take something from the oracle. She’s the youngest of the ten sisters and was born without the sight. She has minor magics and can read corny shells, but that’s about it.

  “But she has a wonderful collection of the rarest pearls and jewels. There was one that was my favorite. It was a pretty, slightly pink pearl from the Arctic. They only form there, and only when two clams get stuck together and—you know. I’d notice it every time my mother sent us to deliver news or food—because it’s always good to be on friendly terms with an oracle, no matter what her level of power is.”

  “So you stole it?” Dad’s smile is from ear to ear.

  “Do you think she noticed?” Thalia asks.

  “It was one of her favorites.” Mom shrugs. “I’m sure of it. She wouldn’t know it was me, because there was no way she would’ve been able to see it happening.”

  My stomach twists. A pretty pink pearl. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

  “But how do you find her?” Dad asks.

  Mom puts her finger on her lip. “The last I remember, she was off the Canary Islands. But that was five h—” Mom notices my dad’s cheesy smile at the fact that she’s about to reveal how old she is. “A long time ago.”

  Kurt stands in front of the map, hands on his green cargo shorts. I don’t know what he sees. I see a bunch of places I’ve never been to. That’s the thing about growing up in Brooklyn. Everyone is from everywhere in the world, so it always feels like you’ve already been there. Angelo and his big Italian family, Layla and her Greek and Ecuadorian parents, Jerry and his Puerto Rican parents. Bertie and his crazy Jamaican grandmother who likes to chase us off their front porch with a broom and call us batti boys.

  Kurt points to the water near Florida. “There’s an oracle here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I do.” His reply doesn’t come out snooty, but there’s more than he’s saying. Knowing Kurt, he’s not going to give anything away. Keepers of the deep. Right. More secrets. “I mean, I’ve been there.”

  “How long would it take to swim down there?” Dad asks my mom. “I mean, it’s a little over eight hundred miles on land, but then if you consider—” He stares ahead, mumbling, which he does when he’s solving my math problems. “Maybe seven days without stopping.”

  “You’re forgetting the channels,” Kurt says.

  “You lost me at channels,” I go.

  “When you get deep enough, there are currents that break through the water and form paths that run all over the earth.” Mom walks around the table and points to New York. “If I remember correctly, there’s a channel south of Staten Is
land that leads to the Great Coral Caves. Is that where the oracle is, Kurt?”

  “She’s there. It’s only been a few years.”

  “A few human years or a few mermaid years?”

  He sighs, exasperated. “A few human years. Thirty, maybe. She should still be there. If we find the sightless oracle and give her your pearl as a gift, especially if she coveted it as you said—”

  “Let me go get it,” Mom says.

  Oh god. I should tell her. No time like the present. “Mom?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Was the pearl strung on a thin silver necklace?”

  “Yes, it was in my treasure ch—”

  “Well—”

  “Please, please tell me you gave it to Layla,” she pleads.

  The knot in my stomach is tighter. “Actually, I gave it to Maddy.”

  “Tristan!” She reaches out her hands as if she could wring my neck, which she should.

  “I didn’t think it was important. You have so much stuff in there, and remember when I was trying to get Cindy Rodriguez to go out with me and you let me pick something out so I could give it to her for Valentine’s Day? And the tiara for Maddy’s Sweet Sixteen?”

  She grunts and balls her hands into fists. Dad flips the pages of his newspaper, his way of telling me, Don’t look at me, son. This is your mess. Fix it.

  Kurt shrugs. “So get it back from her.”

  Even Thalia laughs at the suggestion. “From what I’ve gathered from the girls at your school and her general disdain toward you, you’ll be lucky if she hasn’t already burned it, sold it, or simply thrown it out.”

  I shake my head. “She doesn’t throw things out. She’s super sentimental. She keeps everything that means something to her.”

  “That girl is going to need counseling because of you!” Mom starts throwing dishes into the sink. They fall so hard that I cringe, waiting for one of them to break.

  “I’ll get it back.” I guess we really are going to school today. “Don’t worry.” But even as I say it, I’m not sure I can convince myself.

  Dad honks twice as he pulls away, leaving Kurt, Thalia, and me staring at the steps that lead up to the school entrance guarded by clashing angels.