by Sarah Porter
No, Luce thought. It couldn't be true. The mermaids could defend themselves. If anyone attacked them they would sing. Their enemies would all drown...
Get out of here, Luce told herself. Get out get out get out. She couldn't move, couldn't scream.
They’ll come back! Lucette, go!
The red water turned and whipped past her, the fouled tunnel streaked, then opened. Gray shapes approached: sharks, drawn by the stench. Luce lashed her tail, racing, the soursweet taste of blood still glutting her mouth. She gulped in mouthful after mouthful of salt water and spat it out again, trying to cleanse herself. It didn't help, though; nothing helped, nothing could ever help. She was in the wild open sea near the cliffs, but the sea was corrupted, slimy with death. She ruptured up through the waves and inhaled, staring frantically around at the endless night...
It’s starting, Luce thought, but she barely understood the words. It’s starting, it’s starting...
Something black and fast. On the water's surface, not below it. Luce didn't even hear it coming until it was almost on top of her, until the helmeted men on board were shouting, hefting huge black guns—until a pointed silver blade whizzed past, nicking her shoulder. A line of blood appeared. More filth for the water.
Without thinking about what she was doing, Luce screamed to the sea. It answered her, rising into what might have almost seemed to be a natural rogue wave sixty feet tall if it didn't leap straight for the black boat. It came at the men, furious and purposeful, and Luce could hear their small tinny screams drowned out by her own enormous voice, shriek and song at once. The boat was thrown high above her so fast that she could barely follow it, rolling upside down as it slammed into the cliffs. Its hull crunched like a mussel shell, and kicking men dropped into the suddenly outracing swirl. There were rocks in the water; they might survive...
"Why should she care? All of them were murderers. The mermaids lay slaughtered, and these men were responsible.
No. She was. The guilt was hers. She had known in her heart that this moment was coming. If she'd only listened to Dana, to Nausicaa, only led the tribe away in time, instead of letting herself be fooled by some human's thoughtless words...
It’s starting, Luce told herself again. She was swimming underwater so quickly that all she could feel was speed. This time she understood what that meant. The war. It’s starting. We’ll have to fight...
How could they fight, though, when the humans had found a way to block the power of their songs? Those helmets...
Everything was broken; everything was destroyed. But she couldn't collapse, couldn't allow herself to give in and die. South. Go south; warn Sedna. Warn everyone...
She had to find Nausicaa.
Acknowledgments
I am indebted to the following authors, whose wonderful books taught me a great deal and also informed Waking Storms at many points: Sylvia A. Earle's The World Is Blue provided me with an invaluable overview of ecological problems affecting the oceans. The Climate Crisis by David Archer and Stefan Rahmstorf was also helpful in this regard. Because I've never seen pack ice or nilas myself, my descriptions were largely based on what I learned from Barry H. Lopez's magnificent Arctic Dreams. Nausicaa’s references to whaling, especially to hunting blue whales with exploding harpoons, were drawn from Philip Hoare's The Whale. Alaska Geographic’s book The Bering Sea offered background information on declining seal populations in the region and the consequent behavior of orcas deprived of their usual prey. An excerpt from Dick Russell's The Eye of the Whale, published in the New York Times, inspired the description of the gray whales' migration. Any factual errors or whimsical deviations from accepted reality are entirely my responsibility, not theirs.
Gratitude is also due to everyone at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, especially to the Best Editor Ever, Julie Tibbott; to the Best Agent Ever, Kent D. Wolf; and as always to the Awesomest Husband of All Time, Todd Polenberg.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
1. Each to Each
2. The Voice on the Cliff
3. The Paper Boat
4. The Diver
5. The Rowboat
6. A Glass of Water
7. The Queen
8. The Jacket
9. Little Ditties
10. The Beckoning Wind
11. Nausicaa
12. Enough
13. The Grays
14. Darkness
15. Prisoners
16. Departures
17. Ice
18. The Lost Island
19. Voices Remembered
20. Something Real
21. Forgetting
22. Being Human
23. Breaking Voices
24. Strange Queens
25. Till Human Voices Wake Us
Acknowledgments