“So, did you two decide to go traditional, or are you sentencing yourselves to seventy-odd years of monogamy?” Lazuli asks. At the looks on my parents’ faces, she adds, “What? We were all thinking it.”
Leomaris comes to the rescue. “We still haven’t decided. We know it’ll be … a challenge to navigate such uncharted waters.” He stops to laugh at his own lame joke, and my father joins him.
“But,” Emeraldine picks up, “we don’t want to waste precious time that we could be spending together worrying about what problems we might swim into.”
“That’s right,” Leo says. “We can’t solve everything. Some things we’ll just have to figure out as we go along.”
He turns and shares a smile with my sister. She melts in her chair and snuggles her head against his shoulder, bringing his hand up to her lips for a kiss. “Some things are worth the risk.”
You know that moment when you’ve been swimming down deep in dark waters and you break the surface and your hair flips back slick out of your eyes and the sun hits your face for what feels like the very first time? That’s how I feel right now. I look at my sister, and I look at Leo. Ever since they were fourteen, I’ve thought they were this perfect couple, with absolutely nothing working against them. But they’re not. They have to work at it. They have to make tough calls and be honest and communicate even when it means risking pain. They fight for each other. And they do it because they love each other.
If I ever want to be that happy, I have to take a risk, too. If I don’t want to spend the rest of my life curled up in my room, I have to stop mourning something I haven’t even lost yet. And I have to stop telling myself I’m not strong enough to face the possibility of Clay rejecting me without resorting to sireny. Because I’ll never be strong enough if I don’t give myself the chance. I have to fight for Clay—even if it means fighting my own fear.
Maybe he doesn’t feel what I feel. Maybe he never did. But how will I know unless I go to him? I have to go to him.
I make a decision right then and promise myself to stick to it no matter what: I will leave him alone tonight so there’s no doubt the spell has completely worn off. Then, tomorrow morning, I will tell Clay I love him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I don’t remember what time I finally fell asleep. It was all I could do not to summon my legs, jump from my sea sponge bed, and run to Clay. Now that I’ve decided to tell him how I feel, I can’t think of anything else. Does he feel the same? Will he tell me he loves me, and mean it? Will he flat-out reject me?
I spent hours last night reliving each of our conversations and trying to decipher what his real feelings might be. All I managed to do was stoke my own anticipation.
But I stayed put. I forced myself not to go to him. If I want to know his real feelings, it’s crucial that I give the spell time to totally leave his system.
Now, pre-set music drifts down into the grottos to wake us up in lieu of sunshine. Usually, I’m one of the last ones up, especially on a Saturday. But today, as the lights embedded high in the cave walls brighten on their timed dimmer, I’m already swimming out of bed. Is Clay awake yet? What’s he thinking? Is he thinking about me? Does he hate me for running away?
A somber mood plagues our house this morning. In my anxiety over seeing Clay, it takes me a moment to remember why. It’s the anniversary of the curse. It’s harder for my parents than for my sisters and me, but no one brings it up. It’s not something you talk about. Community policy is to resist spending the day in mourning; instead, we’re supposed to carry on with the lives we have. That’s what I intend to do.
When my entire family is awake and upstairs, I tell my parents all my homework is done and Caspian invited me to spend the day in his pool. Fresh pain stabs into me at the thought of Caspian. At the disgust on his face, at the hurt in his eyes, at the determined set of his shoulders as he walked away from me last night. As he left me. Saying his name out loud hurts. But it’s the only way my parents will let me leave the house after catching me with Clay just three days ago. So, I smile big and hope they buy it. They do—hook, line, and sinker.
I put on one of my favorite outfits: A t-shirt that’s just the right combo of clingy and casual, and a short but not too short white canvas miniskirt. I need to look better than I’ve ever looked. This day may be the day Clay tells me he loves me. If he does, I want to look beautiful for him. Tides, just thinking about it makes a whole school of butterfly fish circle in my stomach.
If he does the other thing … if he rejects me … says he doesn’t love me and never did … well, I’m hoping the outfit will help me feel beautiful for me. Maybe it’ll keep me confident enough to stay on this side of a breakdown. Either way, by the time I leave my house, I feel powerful.
By the time I reach Clay’s house, I’m back to terrified. But I push myself forward. Step by step, I make my legs carry me up his walkway to his front door. His doorbell has never sounded so loud, so resonant.
But he doesn’t answer. His car’s in the driveway, so I know he’s home. I ring again. And wait.
And ring. And wait. He must still be sleeping. I fidget with my t-shirt. Should I risk waking him up? I pull my cellphone out of its waterproof case and call his number. The blaring rocker beat of Clay’s ringtone blasts into the street from his open window. His phone plays note after note, but he doesn’t answer. When I call two more times, he still doesn’t answer.
Disquiet replaces my giddiness. Clay never goes anywhere without that phone. He’s probably just in the shower. Yeah. Or he hates me and isn’t taking my calls. Maybe it’s a sign I should save myself the heartbreak and just go home.
But something feels wrong. I’m like a fish that just smelled danger.
I go around to the side gate. It’s unlocked, as usual. The backdoor is also unlocked—that’s unusual.
“Clay?” I call as I enter, trying not to sound nervous.
When there’s no answer, I head to the bottom of the stairs. “Clay?” I say again, louder.
I go up the stairs, my anxiety escalating with every step.
Then I’m standing at his bedroom door. I listen for running water from the bathroom beyond. Nothing. “Clay? It’s Lia. I just want to talk for a minute.”
The door isn’t fully closed. I push against it, and it opens with a creak. And reveals a scene from a nightmare.
My heart plummets to my stomach. Ritualistic symbols line the walls in a translucent, sickly blue ink. They’re the ones Caspian found in Mr. Havelock’s office. The ones he scribbled on his hand to show me. The ones that were so old, even Casp couldn’t translate them. Melusine and her father have been here—in Clay’s room.
The biggest symbol glares down at me from the wall above Clay’s bed. Then my eyes shift to the bed itself.
“NO!”
I’m barely aware of my own scream. All my attention fixates on the sight before me. The bed sheets hang off the bed, as if someone dragged a body across them. As if someone dragged Clay’s body across them. Whatever happened here, it was violent.
Staining the sheets are several drops of blood. I fight to swallow down my terror.
They’ve taken him. They’ve taken Clay.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I bang on the Havelocks’ front door. I pound my fists against it to no avail. I can’t get around to the back, and their underwater entrance is sure to be even more heavily fortified. I glance up and down the quiet, tree-lined street. No dog walkers. No children playing hopscotch. Not a person in sight. Good.
I pick up a rock that lies among the California poppies and hurl it through the window. I wrap my sweater around my arm and reach in through the shards of glass to unlock the door. Moments later, I’m standing in the Havelocks’ dark entryway.
I venture deeper into the house than I have before. An eerie stillness permeates the place. I check all the most likely hiding spots for an entrance to the grottos and find it in a back closet off the kitche
n.
Down, down, down, I go, winding ever closer to the underwater caverns below. Are Melusine and her father down here? Did they not hear me up above? I keep my footsteps as light as I can. If they have Clay down here, maybe I can still catch them off guard.
The grottos in my house are welcoming. We keep them lit all the time except when we’re sleeping, and our twinkle lights reflect off the iridescent walls to give the place a warm glow. These grottos couldn’t be more different. The farther down I go from the sunlit kitchen above, the darker it gets. By the time I reach the antechamber, it’s as pitch dark as you’d expect an underground cave to be. I can still see just fine, but in the darkness, the moisture clinging to the walls makes the whole place feel dank and cold.
When I reach the antechamber, the water shines inky black. I leave my shoes at the edge and hike my skirt up over one shoulder like a beauty queen’s sash across my chest. I transform so quickly, I barely feel it. The black ripples swallow up my golden tail.
I move as fast as I dare through the large grottos meant for public rooms. Unease eats away at my insides as condensation drips off the walls and echoes through the cavernous darkness, dwarfing me. I don’t hear anyone. They must have Clay in the private grottos in back. I shiver at the thought of him down here. He won’t be able to see a thing, and for him, it will be much, much colder. I swim faster.
A hallway leads me even deeper under the house. The entrance to the next cave is much smaller—a bedroom probably or an office. I plaster myself against the wall outside so if someone’s inside, they won’t easily spot me. Then I peek my head around. No one. I do the same thing at the next room. And the next.
I’ve checked every grotto; Melusine and her father aren’t here. But they may have hidden Clay somewhere.
The blood I saw on Clay’s bed sheets scares me. Maybe they left him somewhere, and he’s hurt and needs a doctor. Maybe he’s d—no, I won’t think it.
Forget stealthy.
“Clay?” I call. “Clay?”
I check every inch of the grotto, every possible hiding place. He’s nowhere.
Back upstairs, my wet lower half drips onto the polished wood floors. I search every room here, too. Every closet, every bureau, under every bed. I even venture into the crawl space attic, but it’s empty. Clay isn’t in this house.
Where, then? Where would they take him? Think. What do I know? They took him from his room sometime last night or this morning. They painted creepy ancient symbols on his walls. Why? The only reason to use ancient Mermese aside from scholarship is dark magic.
They’re using Clay for some kind of spell. But what spell and why Clay? Are they afraid I’ll charge them with poisoning him? Are they planning to kill him to get rid of the evidence? That makes no sense—Melusine knows I still have other witnesses and a sample of the poison.
They’ve had him for what must be hours. Whatever they’re doing to him, they’ve probably already started. I have to find him fast.
What would they need for a spell? I’m not trained in magics—especially dangerous, illegal magics. But I’ve read about them in my sireny research. For some magic, you need ingredients, usually some kind of dried sea plants or body parts of sea creatures (yuck), but it’s different for every spell. What you always need is power. For small things like making medicines, the power comes from the ingredients and from the Mer doing the mixing. But for big spells, you’d need a bigger power source. For an ancient spell so powerful it requires long-forgotten Mermese symbols, you’d probably need the biggest power source.
You’d need the ocean.
My body erupts in goose bumps. They’ve taken Clay out to sea.
Like all Community-owned houses, the Havelocks’ is beachfront. Yanking my skirt back down from where I hiked it up across my chest earlier, I run out their backdoor. After the dark interior, the sunlight blinds me. How can the sun be this bright when Clay is hurt and in danger? I don’t wait for my eyes to adjust before running toward the waves.
Blue vastness. Water stretching as far as my eyes can see. It’s always seemed so beautiful, so infinite. Now, it’s terrifying. Clay is out in that blue somewhere, and I have no idea where. If I’d gone to him earlier, this may have never happened. If I’d kept him sirened, I could use the bond now to find him. Without it, what chance do I have?
I used the bond so many nights when I didn’t even need to—to watch him read or sleep. To feel the cozy, reassuring warmth of his contentment. Now I need it, and it’s gone.
Or is it? In all that research I did, there was never an account of what happened to a mortal after he was released from sireny. I guess all victims were murdered or forgotten by their sirens. No siren has ever loved her mortal. Until now. Until me. I love Clay. And I’ll try anything. Standing by the ocean, my toes nestled in the damp sand, I close my eyes and reach out with my mind to find Clay, as I have so many times before. I expect to feel the call of the ocean assaulting my senses. I expect to have to push past it like I always do. But it doesn’t come. All that raw power is gone. It must have left me when my last siren song wore off.
Now I don’t know how to find him. The salty, sea air fills my lungs, the wind whips through my hair, and the cool waves lap at my toes. I’m about to open my eyes, when I feel … something. Something so quiet I almost miss it. It’s not a strong tug like it was when Clay was under my spell. That felt frantic and mighty, like the call of the ocean itself. This is faint. A very faint drawing feeling. Before, the siren bond felt like if I took control and pulled it, I’d call Clay to me. But this is something different. This feels like I’m the one being pulled, being drawn away. Will it draw me toward Clay? Only one way to find out.
I open my eyes and look up and down the beach. It’s private, like the one behind my house, but Melusine’s neighbors are closer than mine. I don’t see anyone. Still, it’s broad daylight. It’s against Community law for me to transform in the ocean now, for me to risk exposing myself and everyone else.
But Melusine and her father have Clay. Without another thought, I dive into the frothy waves and swim out as far as my human legs can take me. Then, in a flash of golden tail, I dive deeper.
Whoa! My eyes flick everywhere at once. I’ve never been in the ocean during daylight. It’s even more startling in its beauty than our blaringly bright, flower-lined street was when I first got my legs and ventured up from the dim seclusion of the grottos.
The sunlight filters through the water, creating the richest, most brilliant colors I’ve ever seen—turquoises and aquas, chartreuses and viridians, all punctuated by magenta and electric orange. I wish I had the time to enjoy it, to play with the fish that match my set of neon highlighters. But stopping isn’t an option.
I close my eyes to the wonders surrounding me and search again for that faint drawing feeling. It’s stronger now that I’m in the water, but still nowhere near as powerful as it was just yesterday when I was still a siren. The sensation guides me forward by the thinnest of threads, and I follow it. I picture Clay at the other end of this bond, and I swim faster. Rock formations, stalks of seaweed, and brightly colored fish all blur past me as I pick up more speed. My tail beats up and down and I slice through the water. Nothing can stop me.
Until something does. I come to a complete halt at the sight before me. Its blue bioluminescence is fainter in the daylight, but there’s still no mistaking the neatly planted row of bamboo coral. The Border.
How could I have reached it so quickly? I close my eyes, and the bond urges me onward. I gulp in fear, swallowing water that flows back out through my gills. How could she?
Melusine needs to be in the ocean for whatever spell she’s casting, but it never occurred to me that she’d go past the Border. I know she grew up in the open ocean, but returning after she’d deserted the land Below to live Above? Going back into the warzone? It could be suicidal. What spell is worth putting herself and her father in that much danger?
I don’t know. But I k
now what’s worth it to me. Clay. He has to be alive, doesn’t he? I wouldn’t feel the bond otherwise. But how is he still breathing? Will he be alive by the time I reach him? I look again at the Border. Will I be able to stay alive once I swim past the very barrier built to keep me safe?
I peer into the water over my shoulder. I should go back. Surely, I should go to my parents. Bring a search team from the Foundation. I pull my body vertically, wading in indecision. Would they even believe me? I’d have to tell them about the bond, and once I did, they’d see me as a siren—a criminal and a monster—and they wouldn’t trust me. Even if they thought I was telling the truth, they might think Clay was a liability and let him die. I can’t let that happen. I have to go myself.
Caspian’s angry words from the night before replay in my head. I wish we hadn’t fought. If I don’t come back … No. I won’t think about that now. I can’t.
Just as it always does when I’m at the Border, the call of the ocean whispers to me to go deeper. Compels me to explore my true home. I stare out in front of me, beyond the Border, into what seems an endless watery mystery. Into a warzone. Into everything I’ve ever been taught to fear.
“Where you go, I go,” I whisper.
With one more hard flick of my tail, I swim over the Border.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m on the other side of the Border. The other side. I never thought I’d be here. The water, the fish, the kelp canopy—it all looks the same, but it feels different. It feels forbidden.
For the first few miles, I tell myself that nothing has really changed, that I’m still safe. But deep down I know with every sweep of my arms and swish of my tail, I’m foisting myself farther from that safety. It’s like I can suddenly feel every inch stretching behind me, separating me from home. I grow hyper-aware of the speed I’m traveling, of the sound my fin makes as it pounds through the water, of the brush of fabric against my stomach … I gasp, and my sharp inhale forces a flood of water through my gills. Fabric against my stomach! My shirt! How could I be so stupid? Tides, I’m wearing a human t-shirt. Why didn’t I think to change into a siluess? If anyone sees me … Out here, I’m not the sheltered little darling of the Community founders. Out here, I’m in enemy territory with a price on my head because I’m a relative of the old royal family—of the Little Mermaid herself. It doesn’t matter how distant a relative I am, it’s still grounds for public execution if I’m captured.
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