Fins Are Forever

by Tera Lynn Childs

  “There has to be a way,” I insist. “I know. You can come to Seaview.”

  Daddy can’t get away often because his duties are pretty much dusk to dawn. But surely he can be gone for just a day. It’s a pretty extreme situation.

  “That is unnecessary. I have another solution.” Daddy turns to another paper in his stack. “An ancient transference of power ritual we located in the royal archives.”

  “Transference of power?” I lean forward in my seat. “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Daddy says, smiling, “that I can temporarily grant you the ability to perform the separation.”

  Huh. I never even knew that kind of thing was possible.

  Daddy gets some of his power from the trident—all the kings and queens of the mer world have them—but a lot of it comes from within him, too. From the power bestowed on him in his ascension ceremony.

  I know that if I were bonded right now and being officially crowned on my eighteenth birthday, I would receive some power of my own. I just never knew it could be a temporary thing, too.

  But if Doe can’t get to Thalassinia and Daddy doesn’t want to get to Doe, then I suppose this is the best choice. Plus, it’ll be cool to experience the kind of power that makes chilling my morning juice seem like a card trick.

  “Okay,” I say, bracing my palms on the desk. “Tell me what to do.”

  Brody and I make it back to Seaview flipper fast, and before I know it I’m standing at the pay phone, waiting for Quince to answer my call. When he doesn’t, I hang up, get my coins back, and then dial Aunt Rachel’s number.

  Before she’s even said hello, I hear the chaos in the background.

  “Lily?” she asks above the shouting and some squawking and what sounds like drumbeats. “Are you back, dear?”

  “What’s going on?” I shout.

  “Just a little— Stop trying to catch the seagull, Dosinia—you’re only frightening the poor thing,” Aunt Rachel yells, sounding exasperated. Then, back into the receiver, she says, “I’ll tell Quince you’re ready.”

  I start to say thanks, but I hear the click when she hangs up before I even open my mouth.

  Joining Brody on the beach, I sink down on the sand and rest my forearms on my knees, mirroring his pose. He seems lost in thought, and soon I am, too. I don’t want to think about the chaos that is obviously happening back home—like I said, Doe causing trouble is never surprising. Instead, I keep thinking about Tellin and what if. Would it really be possible for the mer world and the human world to coexist? Without us getting locked away like dolphins in an aquarium?

  Maybe we haven’t been giving humans enough credit? Maybe it’s just movies that make us think that humans will go a little crazy if they discover we’re more than myth. If only there were a way to find out.

  “I wish I could go back,” Brody says.

  I angle my head so I can see him from the corner of my eye. He is staring out over the ocean with the kind of longing I’ve only ever seen in him when he’s getting ready to dive into the pool. It’s a look that says he’s counting the seconds until he’s home, until he’s in the water again.

  “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” I say quietly. “Doe just does things without thinking.”

  I may not know Brody as well as I used to hope, but I know he will dream about his time underwater for the rest of his life. He comes alive in the water, just like I do, so I can imagine how he felt when he could literally breathe it in.

  I wish I could make him forget the whole thing, to wipe away the memory so he’s not haunted by it, but after giving me the separation powers and explaining the ritual, Daddy warned me against doing a second mindwashing. Twice on the same human can be very dangerous.

  Only as a last resort, he said.

  So, in other words, unless Brody’s about to go on the nightly news.

  Still, I wish I could. For his sake.

  Brody’s lips melt into a wry smile. “I think she knew exactly what she was doing.” He forces a laugh. “And so did I.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—” He shakes his head. “I’m sure this sounds crazy, Lily, but I think she’s the one.”

  “The what?” I choke.

  “I don’t know how to explain it, exactly. When I’m with Doe . . .” He looks me in the eye. “She feels like home.”

  And I can tell he means it.

  If they weren’t separated by half of Seaview or had been bonded longer than a day and a half, I could blame his feelings on the magic, the mystical power that takes two beings and joins them closer than any others. I’d think his mind was muddied by the emotional and physical connection of the bond. But the feeling in his voice, in his eyes, is real.

  I know, because I feel the same way about Quince.

  “I—” This is definitely a twist I didn’t expect. “I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, well.” He shrugs. “I didn’t either. Kind of ironic, huh? I spend most of my life acting like a player. I finally find the girl of my dreams and being with her means being in the water forever. Everything is perfect, except it has to end before it’s even begun.”

  “I—” Why can’t I seem to finish a sentence? I’m just so stunned by the sincerity of his emotion. The Brody I’ve known, the one I thought I loved for so long, has never been so serious about a girl. Too bad he fell for my squid-brained cousin. “If there were any other way—”

  “But there is,” he says, turning his body to face me. “You don’t have to perform the separation.”

  “I do.” I don’t want to break his heart, especially when he’s being so open and vulnerable about his feelings, but I have to. “Doe is young and impulsive and doesn’t care about anyone but herself.” I take a steadying breath, knowing this next statement will hurt. “She only kissed you so she’d be left alone with Quince. She thinks she can steal him away from me.”

  Brody pushes to his feet. “You’re wrong.” He dusts the sand off his shorts. “She cares about me, just like I care about her.”

  “Brody,” I begin, not sure how to make him realize the truth about Doe when he’s blinded by his feelings. I probably can’t, so I try another tact. “There are things you don’t know about merkind.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Oh, he will. “You remember how Doe said I’m allergic to chlorine?” When he shrugs, I continue. “Well, it’s more than an allergy. Chlorine is toxic to merfolk. It’s fatal—”

  “I still don’t care.”

  I jump up to meet him face-to-face. I have to make him understand. “You don’t get it,” I almost shout. “Your swimming career would be over.”

  “No, you don’t get it,” he says, shaking his head. “Swimming is just a sport, a means to a college scholarship, at best. Doe is . . .” His face transforms into a sunny grin. “My future.”

  How am I supposed to argue with that? I feel bad for Brody, I really do. He doesn’t win in this situation, either way. I’m trying—in vain—to figure out something to say when I hear the rattle of Quince’s mom’s car approaching.

  “Hurry up,” Quince shouts as the car squeals to a stop up the beach from our spot. “I don’t know how long your aunt can keep Doe and the seagull apart.”

  Brody doesn’t hesitate, just stalks up the beach and climbs into the backseat, slamming the door shut behind him. I’ve barely got the passenger door closed before Quince is peeling out of the parking lot and racing for home. We’re halfway there by the time I get my seat belt clicked into place, and then we’re slamming to a stop at the end of our front walk and Quince is out and running for the door.

  When I follow him inside a few seconds later, I’m greeting with a flurry of feathers, a lot of hissing and squawking, and Aunt Rachel, Dosinia, and Quince’s shouts.

  “Corner it!”

  “It’s heading for the stairs.”

  “Stop her!”

  “Herd it back into the kitchen.”

  Brody and I rush toward the nois
e just in time to see Doe dive for Prithi while Aunt Rachel and Quince wave their arms to keep the wild seagull penned in between the sink and the refrigerator.

  Unfortunately, Doe’s grab misses Prithi, who snakes between Quince’s biker boots and lunges for the bird. The terrified seagull makes a break for the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, which happens to be where Brody and I are standing.

  “Duck!” I shout, pushing Brody aside as I leap for the seagull. It flies right between my hands and, just when I think it’s going to escape, I tighten my grip and feel the weight of its body between my palms.

  “Got it!”

  “Thank heavens,” Aunt Rachel gasps.

  Quince, who turned his attention to Prithi when the gull escaped, says, “And I’ve got the cat.”

  Not that Prithi is pleased to have been caught by a human when there’s a bird and two mermaids in the room. But at least the chaos is contained.

  “Is this a messenger gull?” I ask, tucking the bird close to my body.

  “No,” Aunt Rachel says with a stern look at Doe. “It’s a seagull.”

  “I’m sorry, all right?” Doe says, not sounding sorry in the least. “I didn’t know there were non–messenger seagulls. They don’t exactly hang out in Thalassinia.”

  “Doe,” I sigh.

  “I thought maybe Brody had sent me a message,” she argues. Her voice is tight, and I get the feeling she’s on the verge of tears.

  But I know better than to show her sympathy. If there is one thing Doe cannot stand, it’s embarrassment. She tends to process the emotion poorly and turn it against others, in the most cool and calculating ways possible.

  “We understand, dear,” Aunt Rachel says, way more accepting than me, as always. “It will take you a while to adjust to life on land.”

  “Life on land? There is no life on land,” Doe shouts, and we all jerk back at her sudden outburst. Her reactions are usually far more controlled, far more cutting than explosive. “I don’t want to adjust, I don’t want to be on land. I hate being stuck here.”

  I’m stunned into shock.

  Not by her statement, because I know how she feels about land. But Doe is almost always in control, never betrays any true emotions or feelings stronger than mild annoyance. No one has ever gotten this kind of raw reaction from her, not even when Kitt and Nevis cut off all her hair when she was eleven.

  Maybe it’s her land temper. Most merfolk spend at least some time on land, and that teaches them how to control their runaway emotions to some degree. Since her parents died, Doe hasn’t set foot on land for more than a few minutes at a time—and then only to get to the next body of water. When she visited me and Quince on Isla Amorata for our couples-counseling challenge, I was shocked that she stayed on the island for a couple of hours.

  Her hormones must be going crazy after a whole week.

  Her eyes are wide and a little wild. I’ve never her seen her quite so out of control. I have a bad feeling that things are about to go very wrong.

  “I just want to go home,” she screams. “I don’t want to be surrounded by you horrible humans anymore.”

  “Horrible humans?” Brody breaks the silence. “Is that what you really think?”

  To her credit, Doe only blinks once before answering. The control is back in place. Everything about her—her voice, her demeanor, her eyes—is icy cold as she says, “Yes.” She takes a deep breath, and her chest is shaking. “I hate all humans. They’re vile, selfish, dangerous creatures who don’t deserve to live when my parents are dead.” She looks Brody right in the eyes as she says, “I wish Uncle Whelk hadn’t stopped me.”

  After Brody’s beachfront confession, this must feel like a swordfish to the heart. I tried to tell him what Doe is really like, but I can’t take any joy in this particular I-told-you-so.

  The tension between Doe and Brody chills the room. If Doe had her powers, I’d think she’d chilled the moisture in the air. In this case, though, her frigid emotion is enough to do the job.

  I think Aunt Rachel, Quince, and I all sense that this does not involve us, because we all remain frozen and silent.

  I knew Doe hated humans—no one who grew up with her could know otherwise—but not like this. Not enough to wish them harm. That bad feeling I had earlier? Well, it’s back, times a thousand. Because if Doe has this kind of pure hatred inside her, I can only imagine that it has something to do with her exile. Something very, very bad.

  In the end, it’s Brody who poses the question we’ve probably all been thinking. It’s Brody who counters her emotion with flat, emotionless words.

  “Why did you get exiled?” he asks coolly. “What did the king stop you from doing?”

  Doe is like a statue. Arms rigidly at her sides, breathing shallow, back stiff. The only sign that she is alive is her mouth moving as she says, “I stole the king’s trident.”

  I gasp, shaking my head as if I can ward off the statement I sense is coming next. Daddy’s trident is one of the most powerful magical instruments in the seven seas. In the hands of someone full of burning rage and hate . . . Tears sting at my eyes.

  “And I tried to wipe out the East Coast with a tsunami.”

  “Oh, dear,” Aunt Rachel gasps.

  Quince, still clutching Prithi in his arms, says, “Damn.”

  Brody doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t betray any reaction at all, as if Doe had said she tried to send us a rain of hibiscus blossoms. Then again, what kind of reaction should a boy have when he learns that the girl he loves tried to kill him and all of his kind? That’s the kind of situation that pretty much defies reaction.

  Robotically, his movements jerky, he turns to leave.

  “Brody,” Doe cries, her ice cracking.

  But he doesn’t look back.

  A few seconds later the sound of the screen door clanging shut echoes through the house. Quince catches my attention across the kitchen and lifts his brows in question.

  I open my mouth, wanting to say something, but no words come out. In the end I just shake my head. This is beyond my comprehension. I knew Doe was a brat and that she hated humans, but I never would have guessed that she was this malicious. To think of all the lives . . .

  The tears spill from my eyes, and I can’t bring myself to imagine the devastation.

  “Let me take the gull,” Aunt Rachel says, her voice shaking with carefully contained emotion as she crosses to me. I hand over the bird, and Aunt Rachel disappears into the living room, presumably to send the gull out the front door.

  Also, I’m sure, to get as far from Doe as possible.

  Several long moments pass before I recover my ability to speak.

  “Do you know,” I begin, “what kind of destruction you might have caused?”

  I picture all the humans who might have been swept away in the tsunami. Quince, Shannen, Brody, and Aunt Rachel, and countless others. Tellin and I and other merfolk living on land might have survived, but only if we avoided the debris wall that would plow over the land like a bulldozer. I never knew she held that much hate in her heart.

  Doe shrugs, recovering her unaffected attitude, as if it’s no big deal. A facade. I’m not a violent girl, but I’ve never wanted to slap anyone more.

  “Uncle Whelk would never have let that happen,” she replies. Only the quiver of her lower lip betrays her awareness of the situation. The gravity of what she almost did. “He stopped the wave before it got half a mile from Thalassinia.”

  “And that makes it okay?” I demand, crossing to her and standing toe to toe. “What if he hadn’t been able to stop it? What if—”

  I can’t finish the thought. It’s too terrible.

  “He did,” Doe spits. “I don’t see what the big deal—”

  “You don’t see?”

  If Quince hadn’t dropped Prithi and thrown himself between me and my cousin at just that moment, I think I might have strangled her.

  “Lily,” he says, sounding all calm and not nearly as homicidal as I feel
. Doesn’t he know that he and his mom would have been counted among the victims? “This isn’t going to solve the problem.”

  “It might,” I snarl.

  “No.” He cups my chin and makes me look him in the eyes. “You know it won’t. Your father sent her to you because he thinks you can help her get past this. He wants you to heal her. It’s your duty.”

  I slump. Duty. The one word that can change everything. All the anger and terror and fire ebb away, because I know Quince is right. Yelling at Doe is not the solution. There’s enough hate in the room already.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper so only Quince can hear. “How do I fix her?”

  I can’t change the past. I can’t go back in time and stop the deep-sea fishing boat that caught her parents in a dragnet, shredding their fins and trapping them until a great white came along. The kingdom was in mourning for months. Clearly, Doe blames the entire human race, and all that pain and resentment has been boiling inside her for years.

  How can I make her forgive humankind? And realize that not all of them show such disregard for life?

  “It will take time,” he says. “She needs to learn to like and, eventually, love humans. It will take only one.” He glances over my shoulder, toward the living room. “Maybe Aunt Rachel.”

  An image flashes in my mind, of Brody sitting next to me on the beach, telling me he thought Doe was his future. “Maybe not Aunt Rachel.”

  Sure, Brody is furious at Doe right now. So am I. So are we all, I think. But the kind of feelings he confessed don’t just disappear because of one incident, especially one that happened before they even met. From her reaction when Brody walked out, I don’t think Doe is as indifferent to him as she’d like us to believe. There is strong emotion there on her part, too.

  Brody will come back around. Eventually. And maybe his feelings, his love, will transform Doe.

  It’s the only way I can imagine.

  I nod at Quince, silently telling him that my fury has worn off and he doesn’t need to protect Doe anymore. He steps aside and I walk up to her.

  “I don’t know if I will ever forgive you for what you did,” I say quietly, “but I’ll try. And I’ll also try to teach you that most humans are kind, well-meaning, and willing to help others in need. If they had known your parents were trapped at the bottom of the ocean,” I say, not stopping when she jerks back at the mention of her parents, “they would have done whatever it took to save them.”