Garrett shut his eyes. This can’t be real…it can’t be!
He reopened them. The offsetting skin tones trickled down his shins like streaking dyed water droplets. His hand shaking, Garrett reached down to touch the odd-colored skin before it vanished.
“Weaver!”
The voice came from the corner door. Tiber High’s vice principal, Ms. Morgan, stood just inside the entryway. Today, as every other, she wore her prim and proper white button-up blouse with a black wool skirt and black leggings, almost like she hoped the old days when school marms ruled would come back into fashion.
Her back half-hunched by age, Ms. Morgan shuffled to Garrett’s side. Her perfume reeked of dead lilies, and Garrett nearly threw up again as she turned one of her lazy grey eyes on him. The other drooped to the left behind her slim, half-ovaled bifocals.
“Weaver,” she said. “You all right?”
“Y-yes,” Garrett said, his voice hoarse. “I th-think so.”
Wincing, Ms. Morgan stooped to inspect him. She tilted her head back to better see through her bottom lenses. “Yes, I think you will be. Wait here. The ambulance is coming.”
“Ambulance? But I don’t need an amb—”
“You’re still a minor, Weaver. We’re not taking any chances. Wait here.”
Ms. Morgan grimaced as she stood. She placed a shaky hand on Garrett’s shoulder to steady herself, then headed to the deep end.
Ambulance? Mom’s not going to like that. And what if they—
Garrett glanced down at his legs. His normal skin tone had returned again, so too had his toes. The tingling sensation had vanished also. He scooted back onto the deck, pulling them from the water, and ran his hands over his shins. Nothing about them seemed unusual.
Wh-what’s happening to me?
“Move, boys,” Ms. Morgan screeched.
Garrett watched her shoo both Bennett and Owens away from Kellen’s body. She did not kneel gracefully, but neither did she fall. She ran her hand over his brow, leaned her ear to his chest. She came away nodding. Arching his head back, she placed one hand over the other and pumped life back into him. After a few thrusts, she coaxed the death sentence from his lungs.
Kellen became a gushing fountain. His head lolled to the side, eyelids fluttered open.
Garrett glared at him. What did you do to me?
LENNY
Lenny recognized the Cape Fur suit Marisa Bourgeois wore from across the room.
None of the other visitors to the Shedd Aquarium did. To them it only looked a coffee-stained hoodie some thuggish girl from the south side of Chi-town wore because she couldn’t afford better.
Lenny knew different. Her scent called his attention. Salt-soaked with more than a hint of slave sweat, the kind of aroma that only came from someone who had served beneath the waves.
Three weeks he and his crew had worked the United States eastern coastline searching Dryback aquariums before moving inland. The New England Aquarium in Boston, the Baltimore National Aquarium, the Georgia Aquarium—Lenny scoured them all and then some. All came up with nothing.
Now would be his moment of triumph.
Lenny locked his focus on her. Whenever Marisa Bourgeois moved, he did.
She first passed a coral-filled tank. The leather-like bag at her side changed color. Brown when first Lenny saw it, and now red in mimic of its new surroundings. Its hue reverted the moment she cleared the tank. Marisa gave no indication she noticed and entered the Waters of The World exhibit where Lenny could not follow without being seen.
Bmmpp. His crystal-stud earrings vibrated. Racer’s squeaky voice filled Lenny’s mind. Hey, Len…Paulo. You should see the girls over here. Wow!
Again, pup, Paulo replied. I only have eyes for Ell-
Lenny reached to his ears. He clutched the crystal studs between his thumb and forefinger. Mute ’em, he thought.
Bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…The earrings continued to vibrate, the voices silenced.
Lenny turned his attention back to the exhibit entry.
He recalled one of his father’s mantras. A catcha watches. Waits to make sure the goin’s safe.
Ahead of him, a group of inner city fourth graders made their way toward the same exhibit Marisa had entered. Lenny hustled to catch up. He joined their ranks and entered unseen. When the students paused at the new area’s sudden low lighting, Lenny pressed ahead. No amount of darkness on land compared to Crayfish Cavern.
Lenny wove silently through the crowd, searching. He found his target in front of the octopus tank. The emanating hazy violet light made her ebony skin shine like a killer whale’s backside. Lenny slunk behind a concrete pillar.
Marisa tilted her head to survey the incoming crowd.
She’s careful. Lenny observed. Watchful.
More students came into the exhibit. They pushed and shoved closer to the tank. “Mommy, I can’t see it!” cried one of the little bleaters.
“There isn’t anything in there!”
“I’m bored!”
“Look closer, sweetie!” a woman said. “It’s camouflaged with the brown rocks.”
Lenny shook his head. How will they eva learn if ya show ’em everything?
Several children banged their fists against the glass. One of them even dragged his snot-filled nose along the length of it. The brat didn’t bother to clean the wavy green trail off either.
The octopus stayed hidden.
Lenny spied an information board, its face littered with detailed octopus habits for anyone interested enough to read them. He crept to the chrome board, careful to keep his distance, never losing sight of her. Tucked behind it, he peered around the edge.
Marisa had filed further down the tank, away from the students.
“Why don’t we all visit the sea otters next door?” A mother said. “I hear they’re pretty fun to watch.”
The suggestion sent the children racing toward their next caged victims. Their guardians trailed behind like a chain gang with years left on their sentences.
Sea rats, lady. Lenny watched them leave. Gnaw ya face off, sea rats.
The air vents above him kicked on with a low thrum. A cool breeze whispered across the tiny hairs on the back of Lenny’s neck. He shivered, fought against the familiar energy rush to keep it in reserve. A catcha watches…waits.
Bmmpp.
With the pack of children gone, the octopus emerged from hiding. Its tentacles sprawled forward, grasped at the rock wall like fingers massaging a scalp as it pulled its balloon-like body out. It promptly sank to the bottom where it morphed its body color to match the surrounding sand.
The change reminded Lenny of Marisa’s bag. That why ya runnin’, girlie? Did ya steal it from a Salt Child?
Lenny touched his ear studs and pictured Chidi’s face in his mind’s eye. Hey, Cheeds. Ya eva seen an Oc-bag before?
Once or twice, she answered. Only in New Pearlaya though. A couple Merrows carried them.
What’d it look like?
Changed colors a few times. Don’t know what—
Lenny muted the conversation upon seeing Marisa reach into her bag. He slid his right hand into his Selkie pocket to let his fingers dance across the hilt of a coral dagger. Don’t do it, girlie. Not here.
Marisa took out a spiraled notebook, then a pen that resembled bone with strange markings on the sides. Lenny recognized it for a seal tooth. Pen in hand, Marisa took notes with an occasional studious glance at the tank.
Bmmpp…bmmpp…
Shrieks of laughter echoed through the wall.
Bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…
Quit talkin’, ya idiots.
Bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp…bmmpp...
Lenny clutched the studs and telepathically opened his thought stream.
Len. Ellie said, her voice panicky. Oscar’s on the move.
Lenny winced at the sudden molestation to his brain. He reopened his eyes.
Marisa Bourgeois had vanished.
Len, said Ellie. Did you hear me?
Lenny saw movement inside the tank—an employee dropping a lidded jar inside.
The octopus sprang from the sand. It wrapped its tentacles around the bottle cap. Without warning, the eight-legged beast worked its limbs back and forth to unscrew the lid.
Lenny heard the stampede before he saw it.
“Ewww!” a girl screamed.
“Mrs. G! Come look at this thing!” the teeny monster closest to him shouted.
“Mooooom! Check it out!”
The gang of children bowled Lenny over.
He fought to stand and caught sight of a black tennis shoe just before it connected with his temple. Lenny collapsed into a ball. The room spun, and he swore Marisa smiled down on him before more children crowded around. He fumbled to his knees.
Escape—escape—Lenny thought to his crew.
“Oh my!” a woman behind him said. “I’m so sorry about that. They get so excited when they’re together. Kids, right?”
Lenny shoved the children out of his way and made for the exit. The room continued to spin like he had drunk too much grog. He leaned against the wall for balance, stumbled into the lone way into and out of the exhibit. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the brighter light and cursed himself for a fool when he saw the layout.
The lone entry point should have bottlenecked Marisa. But now, in the Shedd’s central area, Lenny saw at least seven hallways she could have escaped through. Visitors crisscrossed in front of him toward other exhibits. None resembled his target.
Which way did she go? His mind raced. Which way? Which way!
Len…Len…Ellie called out. Can you hear me?
Lenny silenced her from his thought stream. He felt a tap on the shoulder and turned. An eight-year-old peeked at him from behind a woman’s legs. Lenny assumed the runt belonged to her. Both had the same horsey face and green eyes. He took special notice of the apple-shaped sticker slapped over the woman’s blouse. She had written Mrs. G in a stylish, cursive hand and even drawn a smiley face just below her name.
Lenny turned his attention back to Marisa’s pinwheel of escape routes. Is she blendin’ with the crowd, or did she leave the grounds?
Mrs. G coughed.
Lenny thought it sounded somewhere between clearing her throat and sneezing only she hadn’t decided which. Fake. Again, he ignored her as he tried to recall every lesson his father ever taught him. She cornered herself…
Pop would neva do that…he’d want two exits…want to see anyone chasin’ him.
Lenny took out his map. His eyes searched for an area Drybacks might congregate. How many…what they looked like…he’d wanna blend—
Mrs. G dug her finger into Lenny’s collarbone. “Excuse me!”
“What?” he snarled.
“I’m sorry to bother you—” Mrs. G said politely, though her tone suggested otherwise. “My daughter, Jamie, has something she’d like to say to you. We’d like to consider this a teaching moment.”
Jamie burrowed her face into her mother’s waist.
Lenny frowned at the kid.
“Go on, pumpkin.” Mrs. G nudged her daughter.
“I’m sorry my—my friends and I knocked you over,” Jamie said. “It was an accident.”
“Very good, dear!” Mrs. G patted her daughter on the head like she might a puppy. She turned her sights on Lenny. “Don’t you have something to say back to Jamie?”
Lenny stared at the kid. He knew the type having grown up around Oscar. Anything this terror wanted, she would get. Didn’t matter what it might be. Piece of candy, leafy sea dragon mount, this brat could have it all.
Declan would have no doubt asked Mrs. G to step away from her child. Let the two adults have a teaching moment of their own.
Lenny couldn’t. “Heya, kid.”
“Hi,” Jamie said. “Are you an elf that helps Santa?”
I’ll show ya Santa’s elf. Lenny pulled at the neckline of his hoodie. “Listen, I got something to tell ya. It’s true I might know a couple elves. And guess what? I got something to tell ’em this year about a little girl named Jamie.”
“And what might that be?” Mrs. G asked cheerily.
Prolly imaginin’ her plans to share this during family dinnertime in her safe, cushy life.
“Santa keeps a list, right?” Lenny asked.
Jamie hopped several times in place. “A list of who’s been naughty or nice!”
“Yeah, well, ya been a little brat this year, pumpkin.” Lenny patted Jamie on the head. “And ya name’s goin’ on the naughty list…right next to mine.”
The little girl’s tears came like a heavy rain, and Lenny the young man ready to dance in it.
Mrs. G grabbed her daughter’s hand and led the little girl away.
Lenny chuckled. “Bet she don’t ask Santa ‘bout no elves this year.”
Then he blew Mrs. G a kiss. She had almost made him forget Marisa Bourgeois might have left the building.
CHIDI
Chidi Etienne knew Lenny did her a kindness by assigning her to the cafeteria. She didn’t know it would trigger memories she worked so hard to suppress. It wasn’t the group of eight-year-old girls, laughing at a nearby table that made her question if she had ever been so innocent. Chidi recalled she had been, long ago.
The man in his fifties seated behind the girls had been the one to bring the memories screaming back. The one watching Chidi, undressing her with his eyes the past fifteen minutes. He reminded her too much of Henry.
Chidi sneered at him so he would realize she saw him. Not that it would matter. Men like that didn’t care, she knew.
She continued her search for Marisa Bourgeois. A married couple and their six-year-old with a stroller here, a pair of boys chasing each other there; Chidi dismissed them all for ordinary. She gave none a second thought until she saw the mousey man.
Seated alone, a tray of untouched fried chicken tenders in front of him, the man’s beady eyes searched the room behind thin, wire-rimmed glasses. At his feet, a green canvas backpack lay propped against his chair. A grey hood with two cutout eyeholes peeked from the nearly zipped side. A Common Seal outfit, if Chidi judged the make correctly. And she had.
Chidi’s brow furrowed. Another runner? How did he take off his suit?
“Ya dead, Cheeds,” a familiar voice—one with a Boston accent—whispered and pressed something hard into her lower back.
“You shouldn’t sneak up so close on someone unless you plan on killing them,” Chidi said. She spun and caught her would-be assailant by the wrist.
Today, her newest captain had chosen to squeeze his chubby legs into black skinny jeans, a task made harder given the bottom of his Selkie suit also had to fit. He had tucked a checkered shirt of black and green into them. A stocking cap covered his auburn hair, despite the least bit of chill outside. She recalled his claim dressing in such a way helped him blend with Chicago’s punk crowd.
Chidi could see no sense to his logic. The black hood with white circles draped down his back, gave him away to anyone Salted. “Hi, Lenny. Looks like I caught you.”
Lenny wrenched away and rubbed his left wrist—the one bearing the crayfish brand with the initials A.C. seared into his skin. He pulled his sleeves down when he caught her staring at it. “Dolans don’t get caught, sweetheart. We don’t run.”
Good thing.
“Nice shirt,” he said to her. “Ya don’t stand out at all wearin’ that ova ya suit. Real discreet.”
Chidi glanced down at the off-white T-shirt she bought in the gift shop earlier that morning. It read I my Shedd Aquarium! across the chest with a picture of a Galápagos sea lion underneath it. “Do you really like it?�
�
“Whattaya think?”
Chidi smirked. “Je mélange mieux que vous.”
“Hey!” Lenny pointed at her. “No speakin’ other languages around me! I don’t like not knowin’ what’s bein’ said. How many ya speak anyhow, Cheeds?”
In truth, she had lost count. Not that she would say if she did remember. One never knew how the slightest bit of information might be recalled and used against her some later day.
Chidi shrugged innocently and resumed her watch of the mousey man.
His eyes searched the room constantly, yet he rarely turned his head. Instead, his foot quivered and tapped the chair’s metal leg quickly, almost like transmitting the nervous energy into Morse code. When he wiped his forehead, she saw his sleeve come away with wet stains.
Chidi looked away before he saw her. She counted to five, then resumed her observation of him. She took note that his gaze frequented the unoccupied vending area. It had a few light panels out and a NO ENTRY sign posted. Elsewise, nothing about the room seemed remotely interesting.
Why does he keep looking over there? An escape route perhaps?
“I didn’t lose her, Elle!” Lenny hissed loudly.
Chidi turned back around.
Lenny paced back and forth. His face varied between shades of red and purple.
Others in the cafeteria took notice. Several teens in the crowd even had their phones out to film the angry little man.
Uh, Lenny, she thought to him. Might want to go thoughts on. Kind of drawing a crowd.
Lenny took his stocking cap off and threw it. “Dolans don’t lose runnas, Elle! We find ’em, bag ’em, and tag ’em! Now I dunno how they did things back in Mexico or whateva country ya came from, but keep ya eyes open. She’s still here!”
Hey, Lenny, Chidi said. Check out this guy I found. I think he might be a runner.
Lenny immediately stopped his rant as if Chidi uttered magic words. He stood on his tiptoes to see to whom she referred. Cursing, he grasped the metal bars used to form the fast food lines. Grunting, he hoisted himself up for a better view.
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