I pushed one of the squid’s arms off my waist and kept reading.
The fairy godmothers’ guild has proudly served the Deserving Mortals Community for more than fifty centuries, and each of us strives for excellence in meeting our charges’ magical needs. However, as the ocean depths are out of the realm of forest fairies, I can’t visit you in your new home, despite the fact that you keep sending me messages, like, every two minutes.”
Even though I moved away from the squid, he followed me. His arms fluttered over me like he was trying to brush the water away from my skin. I slapped a tentacle off my shoulder and kept reading.
When you’re ready to discuss your next wish, simply call from the surface and either Clover or I will attend to your request.
Remember, this is your time to make a big splash!
Magic is my business,
Chrysanthemum Everstar
The surface. I needed to go there so Chrissy could fix this mess. But how could I leave the city when I was under guard? My family wasn’t about to let me go off by myself.
I untangled one of the squid’s tentacles from where it was stuck in my hair. The clown fish that had been darting around my anemones were suspiciously absent. I hoped the squid hadn’t eaten them.
PS In case you didn’t know, mermaids of good breeding always tip a postal squid with food.
Well, that probably explained why the squid was still hanging around trying to eat my hairpiece. I swam to my lunch plate which now lay on the floor. The turtle had abandoned it and was hiding underneath my bed. I could see the tips of his green flippers sticking out one side. Coward.
I kept half of the fish slices in one hand and tossed the rest to the squid. Several of his arms shot out, grabbed the slices, and brought them to his beak. While he devoured the fish, another arm slid, snake-like, over my hand to retrieve the food there.
It’s hard to tell where to look while addressing a squid. I focused on his huge black eyes instead of his waving tentacles. “If you want the rest of the fish, you have to do something for me. Do you understand?”
He dropped his tentacles away from my hand, so I figured that was a yes.
“I want to swim out of here without being seen by the merman who’s watching my window. Can I swim beside you so you’re between me and him?”
The squid just stared at me. I don’t know why I expected a response. It was, after all, a squid. I took hold of one of his arms, up near his cone-shaped head. Either he agreed to my terms, or the way I’d grabbed him had spooked him. He shot forward toward my window.
I held on, glad he was an invertebrate. Otherwise we wouldn’t have both fit through the opening. As it was, my back banged against the window edge. I decided to give the squid the benefit of the doubt and assumed that was accidental and not an attempt to scrape me off.
The squid darted away from the castle, letting out a stream of something dark and inky that obscured us from the mermaids below.
He was either helping my cover, or he was completely freaked out that I still hung onto him. “Take me to Chrissy,” I told him. “Take me to the fairy who gave you the letter.”
He shot away from the city, the opposite direction from the way I’d come. Squids have jet propulsion, and he was using it. We rocketed so fast that the water felt like liquid silver streaming across my skin. He was either eager to take me to Chrissy or he was trying to shake me off. It was odd not knowing whether I was with the ocean version of Lassie or whether I was tormenting an innocent postal squid.
The city grew smaller and smaller, disappearing behind us into a blur of blue. Then, perhaps because I still hadn’t let go, the squid swam toward the surface. When we’d nearly reached the top, I put the rest of the food in one of his tentacles and let go of his arm. Without a backward glance, he zoomed away back into deeper water.
“Thanks!” I called after him and pushed the last few yards to the surface.
More clouds had crowded into the sky, rumbling, and restless—ready to storm. On my right side, the endless expanse of the ocean stretched out before me. To my left, I saw the back of a ship. By the looks of it, it was the same one I’d run into earlier.
Jason’s ship. It was heading toward land. The shore beyond the ship spread out in a brown line with the faint shape of trees feathering the shoreline.
Hopefully, Chrissy could hear me now. I called her name several times, waiting while choppy waves sloshed around me, lifting and lowering me. I called her name again. Nothing happened. No sparkles, no glitter. The clouds above let out a warning drizzle, a mist that dissolved into the water.
Chrissy had said the ocean was out of her realm. Maybe it was hard to get here. I might have better luck if I went in closer to shore. Besides, I had nothing else to do. I sunk back into the ocean and swam in that direction.
I wasn’t worried about the ship seeing me. I was far enough underwater that even if the men looked down at the waves, they wouldn’t spot me. I meant to swim by without pausing. As I neared the boat, though, I heard Jason’s voice.
Mermaids must have good hearing. His words were clear even under the water. “All of you, get away from me! I don’t know who you are, but you won’t get away with kidnapping me like this!”
Apparently his day hadn’t gotten any better.
“Sire,” one of the sailors called. “Come down from there. You’ll fall.”
I stopped swimming and listened.
“Police everywhere will be searching for me,” Jason insisted. “I’m platinum in every major country and some you’ve never even heard of—I’m a hit in Botswana.”
“No need to hit anyone’s Botswana,” a nervous sailor replied. “We’re only trying to serve you.”
“Serve me with what?” Jason demanded. “If you’ve got a subpoena, show it to me.”
I drifted upward, making sure to keep behind the boat. Thick raindrops pocked the surface of the water, churning what little they could of the ocean.
“Sire, we be decent men. We ain’t got no diseases, nor subpoenas neither.”
A general murmur of agreement went up from the rest of the men. “Mind your footing, Your Highness. The ship ain’t steady.”
“Don’t come any closer!” Jason shouted. “I know how to use this!”
What was Jason doing? I lifted my head out of the water to see. The wind shivered across the waves, prodding them higher. I spotted Jason easily enough. He stood on the ship’s railing, clutching the end of a rope in one hand and a sword in the other. Rain spattered into him, dampening his hair so it stuck, cap-like, to his head. The way he held the sword made me doubt he knew how to use it.
The sailors formed a distant semi-circle around him, out of the sword’s reach. A man holding a cup and saucer took a tentative step toward him. “Sire, come down from there and ‘ave a nice cup of tea.” Another step. “You can get out of the rain and sit in your cabin where it’s nice and cozy-like.”
I let out a sigh. Hopefully when Chrissy fixed this, she could make Jason think this had all been a dream.
I was about to sink back into the water and continue my swim to shore, when Jason slipped. The railing was drenched, and as he took a step, his boot went out from under him. He let out a yell, struggled to regain his balance, and dropped the sword. It clattered against the rail then fell, spinning on its way to the ocean. A moment later, Jason lost the fight for balance and tumbled backward, off the ship.
At first, I thought he would be okay. He had a hold of the rope and it was tethered on deck. Certainly part of his brain was screaming: Don’t let go of the rope!
He should have listened to that part. Instead he made a grab for the railing. The wet, slippery railing. As he fell, his pathway took him directly into a protruding cannon.
I suppose if Jason’s specialty was gymnastics instead of singing, he might have been able to right himself and stick an impressive landing on the cannon. Not only did he not right himself, he managed to hit his head on the cannon before plunging into the wate
r.
If he lost consciousness, he’d drown.
I dove after him, worried about his injury and frustrated the fairy tale was playing out even though I didn’t want it to. The Little Mermaid saved the prince from drowning, and here I was speeding to save Jason from that fate.
He sunk downward through the water, unmoving. A twisting trail of blood ran ribbon-like from the gash in his head.
Above me, the sailors let out panicked cries. “Your Highness! Your Highness!”
“Do you see him?”
“Lower the longboat and we’ll go after him.”
“Nay, dive in and retrieve him or our necks will be in the noose.”
“Who can swim?”
No one answered.
Really? Sailors who couldn’t swim? And no one had seen a problem with that fact when they commissioned the crew?
I pushed through the water until I reached Jason. Wrapping my arms around his chest in a hug, I swam upward. The metal buttons on his coat dug into my skin. I hardly felt them.
We broke the surface, and I held his head out of the waves, ignoring the wind that pushed ocean spray into our faces. Jason’s eyes were closed. He made no attempt to open them, didn’t move at all. Blood trickled down his forehead, mixing with the water running from his hair. I put my cheek against his mouth to see if he was breathing. He wasn’t.
Fear made my chest feel tight. I wouldn’t let myself consider the possibility that he was dead—that my wish had killed him. In the fairy tale, the Little Mermaid saved the prince and brought him to the shore. That’s all this was. The next part in the story. Only why wasn’t he breathing?
“There he is!” one of the men on the ship shouted. “Look, a mermaid has him!”
In junior high I’d taken a CPR class for babysitting certification. I tried to remember everything I’d learned, to think logically. Jason had probably breathed in water. How could I get it out? Was it possible to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while floating in the ocean? With the hope that the Heimlich maneuver might help clear his lungs, I unbuttoned his wool coat, and pushed the front open.
I moved behind him, wound my arms so my fists connected under his ribs, and made quick upward thrusts. The motion jerked us about, bobbing us up and down. Jason’s arms flailed and his head flopped from one side to the next.
Several sailors let out alarmed cries. They crowded together at the side of the boat, gawking at us. “What’s she doing?” one asked.
“You down there!” another shouted. “Leave him be! You’ve got no cause to beat on a defenseless man.”
The best dressed of the men—most likely the captain—simply shook his head. “Our prince is being roughed up by a mermaid. This is not our nation’s proudest moment.”
Someone else shouted, “You can take her, Sire! C’mon! Give her the old heave ho!”
I was too busy Heimliching Jason to respond to any of them. I thought he had expelled some water but I couldn’t be sure. I leaned backward, let him lie against me, and slid one hand over his chest to check for the rise and fall of breathing. I didn’t find it.
A voice in my mind kept repeating Chrissy’s warning. Wishes are permanent, and their consequences are real and lasting. Real and lasting. This was real and lasting. How long could Jason go without oxygen before he died?
To administer CPR I needed to do thirty chest compressions and then two rescue breaths. I’d only practiced with the dummy on the ground. I couldn’t use the floor’s resistance here. I would have to improvise. I moved my hands so they covered his heart and pressed thirty times, hard and fast at a speed of a hundred compressions a minute.
Next I twisted around so he faced upward. His face was smooth, expressionless, and achingly familiar. This was Jason Prescott. Famous. Beautiful. And dying.
In all the scenarios where I’d imagined pressing my lips to Jason’s, I’d never envisioned doing it in front of a ship full of sailors while I tried frantically to save his life.
I tilted his head back, plugged his nose so the air didn’t escape, then blew a breath into his mouth. His lips were cold and tasted like the sea.
Several men onboard let out shocked exclamations. “What in the—now she’s doing something unnatural to him!”
“She’s trying to suck his soul out through his mouth!”
“Aye, mermaids have no souls, so they go about stealing them.”
“Nay, she’s having her way with him. Mermen are unsightly creatures, which is why mermaids can’t resist a bonnie sailor. Drawn to us like bees to a flower.”
The men quietly considered this for a moment. “Weren’t we going to lower the longboat?” a sailor asked. “I volunteer to man it.”
As if. This bee wasn’t interested in any of those grimy, unwashed flowers.
In my arms, Jason stiffened, jerked upward, and coughed water all over me. It trickled down my chin and neck. Pretty much the most unromantic end to a kiss possible.
Jason’s eyes fluttered open and then fell shut again. He sunk into the water, and I had to tighten my grip around him so he didn’t go under. He was breathing now but still wasn’t conscious. The lump on his head had grown to the size of a golf ball and blood still leaked down his cheek. He needed help.
I could stay around and wait for the sailors to lower the longboat. They would take Jason back on board and get him warm and dry. But I doubted they were the best people to treat an injured man, and besides, I didn’t like the net a couple of the men were holding. They seemed to be judging my distance from the boat, getting ready to toss the thing at me.
Yeah, this sort of treatment was probably why mermaids didn’t like humans.
The shore wasn’t far away. In the story, the Little Mermaid took the prince there—a fact that made me not want to do the same. It felt like I didn’t have any choice, like the outcome of the story would engulf me no matter what I did. And I didn’t know if I was in the happy version of the story.
Jason was hurt, though, and it was my fault. My wish had done this. I needed to take him to safety. With one arm hooked around his chest, I swam toward the shore.
Chapter 6
The men called after me, shouting and threatening to catch and fillet me if I didn’t return the prince forthwith. I didn’t turn around.
A mermaid’s strength comes from her tail, so it wasn’t hard to swim while holding onto Jason. I pushed across the surface, carefully keeping his head above water. The rain continued to come down and the wind had picked up, frosting the waves with white foam.
The closer I got to land, the worse the idea of bringing Jason here seemed. How could I drag an unconscious guy onto the beach? I didn’t have legs. And as soon as I didn’t have the water to help support Jason’s weight, I wouldn’t be able to carry him.
I swam toward the shore anyway in hopes someone would be around.
A building came into sight—perhaps a lighthouse. No, it was too short for that. Someone’s home, maybe? I headed toward it.
There was a natural break in the shoreline there, a curve of the land that created a cove. As soon the waves entered it, they lost their fury and settled into as lapping, tired peace.
As I swam into the cove, I realized the building was actually a gazebo set on the edge of the shore. Its closest side spread across the water acting as a dock. Jason wouldn’t have walls to protect him against the wind, but at least the roof would keep off the rain.
Hoisting Jason up onto the floor proved tricky. I didn’t have the strength in my arms to lift him out of the water, and I accidentally banged his head against the stone floor trying. He let out a low moan.
“Sorry,” I told him.
He didn’t answer back.
The answer to this problem, I realized, was my tailfin. I’d been lifting Jason like a human would when I had an awesome, mythical tailfin at my disposal. If dolphins could leap out of the water several feet into the air, I could too.
Still holding onto Jason, I swam away from the gazebo, then sped back toward it.
Dolphins make leaping look easy. You see them in nature movies gracefully arcing out of the ocean. Playfully. Happily. Dolphins, it turns out, are liars.
My arc out of the water looked like I was being shot haphazardly from a cannon. I skidded into the middle of the gazebo—farther than I’d intended. Unfortunately, I also landed on top of Jason, something that made him let out another groan.
I slid off him and turned him face up. My movements were strained now that we were on land. It felt like I was dragging around a hundred-pound sack on a pair of useless legs.
Jason lay on the floor, pale and barely conscious. His lips looked more purple than red, and blood still oozed from the wound on his head. He needed a bandage. The only thing I could use was the sash around his waist. It wasn’t clean, but the pressure might stop the bleeding. I pulled it off and tied it over the cut.
His eyes flickered open and he coughed.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
His head turned at the sound of my voice. He stared at me blankly. Without recognition, without surprise—I wasn’t sure he even saw me.
“Say something,” I prodded.
“I’ll fight every one of you,” Jason slurred. “You better get my manager.” He shut his eyes again and went still. I ran my hand across his cheek, hoping it would elicit a response. It didn’t. He showed no other signs of reviving.
I couldn’t leave him like this—wet, shivering, and likely to get hypothermia.
A path led from the gazebo into the trees. I scanned the fluttering leaves for signs of a traveler, for anybody. Shadows grew and shrank with the branch movement, but no one stepped forward. “Chrissy!” I called. “Where are you?”
I didn’t get an answer except for another low moan from Jason. I pulled myself closer to him, and draped my arm across his chest, covering his legs with my tailfin so my body heat could warm him.
It was risky to stay on land. People here thought mermaids were dangerous. When someone finally showed up, what would they do when they saw me lying half on top of their wounded prince? Every moment I stayed out of the sea I was vulnerable and exposed.
My Fairly Dangerous Godmother Page 6