by Maira Dawn
Ian continued cooking and watched from the corner of his eye as she became bolder, picking up and examining food and tools he'd set on the counter. A device for shelling crustaceans piqued the girl’s immense curiosity, but it was dangerous when not used properly. When she reached for the item, Ian blocked her and gently pushed her hand away. The contact startled her, and she withdrew back to hovering in the background.
Even though Ian gave her a demonstration on how to use the tool, she stayed away from him. Ian's chest tightened as he glanced at her. Clearly, the woman felt nothing for him yet. He pushed a hand through his hair before washing his hands to start the next dish. "How about a sea vegetable salad?"
That piqued her interest. The woman’s blue eyes brightened. "Sure."
Ian set new items on the counter, and she couldn't resist her curiosity. Soon, she stood right beside him again, and Ian chuckled.
She glanced at Ian. "Does everything I do amuse you?"
"Not everything, but you can be entertaining."
Ian handed her some sea lettuce and asked if she would like to prepare it. She nodded and took it from him, tearing it and adding it to each of their bowls.
Ian studied her, taken by his Jata Ara’s small feminine gestures as she went about her work. Her blond hair spilled down her back, swinging slightly with her movements. Though she still feared him, every so often she would turn her bright eyes toward his face. Ian almost forgot where he was when she did that.
Her beauty captivated Ian from the beginning, but now, talking with her, he could see why she was meant for him. Her personality brought out the better parts of his, as it should be. Ian let his gaze fall. Of course, she may not see it that way.
Glancing up at him, she asked, "Do you want me to cut up the lobster?"
Ian looked from her to the knives and back. There were many reasons not to give her a weapon. One being her overeager stare at the little blade. Ian gave a wry smile. "I think not."
His Jata Ara’s mouth twisted in disappointment before she said, "So, tell me about her."
Ian raised an eyebrow. Her? There was only one her they had talked about. "The little mermaid?" He sighed, wondering at human's fascination with the story. "Not much of your story of the Little Mermaid is true. She was like me. Us. Here." He raised his hand and made a little circle with his knife, indicating his city. "The mermaid part of your story is not true, nor is much of the rest. But she did like to sing. She fell in love with a human and went to live with him on land. But where you see it as romantic, we see it as a cautionary tale."
"Oh," she said a bit deflated. "What do you call you, us, here?" She made the same circular motion with her finger.
"Atlantian. This is Atlantis." Ian's chest swelled with pride at the words.
The woman was silent for a moment before saying, "Atlantis is a myth."
"No, it is not. This is Atlantis." Ian watched her reaction. They had allowed him to tell a few humans their secret while on missions. The responses had always been interesting.
"Like the real Atlantis, the lost mystical city? The one that sunk into the sea?" The woman was first incredulous, then her eyes narrowed.
"Yes, though it is more like built in the sea.”
"But how... how could that be? I mean..." She flopped one of her hands.
"Let us discuss it as we dine," Ian said, somewhat formally as he finished filling the bowls. His Jata Ara could ask all the questions she wanted as long as he was moving food from the plate into his mouth as she did it.
Thirteen
And Your Name Is?
Chapter Thirteen
Sonora took one last glance at the room. A pristine white kitchen, and a treat to explore. If only she weren't here under these circumstances. The repurposed cabinetry fit the left side of the room and looked magnificent. Each end of the wall boasted floor to ceiling cabinets, not so hard for a six-and-a-half-foot man to reach and in between laid a countertop. Real china plates and bowls sat on open shelves above the counter.
The colorful countertop looked crafted from small pieces of tile, but when she ran a finger over the surface, it felt smooth as silk. Ian chopped all over it with what seemed like a very sharp knife, though she wouldn't know because he wouldn't let her touch it. So, the surface was somehow resistant to cut marks.
Ian had pulled all the food out of a huge cold drawer under the countertop and heated dishes in a machine similar in looks and cooking time to a microwave except that heat came from it. Sonora made a note to explore those later.
Her stomach growled again, and she slapped a hand against it. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
Ian glanced at her as he drizzled a light sauce over the steaming lobster he'd placed in a communal bowl. "I understand. We both need a meal."
He handed Sonora two mugs of ice water and gathered up the dishes himself before walking into the dining room.
Sonora rolled her eyes behind Ian's back. He expected her to follow him like an obedient captive, she supposed. But what else was she supposed to do? She was starving and stuck who knew how far down in this sea. She needed to eat.
Sonora stopped behind Ian as he laid out the bowls of salad and lobster. She scanned his body from his feet to the top of his head. Definitely a tall guy, he seemed even bigger than when in the water. Sonora was on the tall side for a woman at five-foot-seven-inches and he stood a foot taller than that. It intimidated her.
Ian turned and indicated she should set the mugs down while he went back into the kitchen for utensils. The ice clinked against the side of the decorated ceramic cups as she placed one by each of the salad bowls. The plate holding the lobster sat between them. Apparently, they shared.
Once Ian came back, he rushed to pull out a chair for Sonora, standing behind it as he waited for her to sit. Sonora had only been in this situation a few times in her life, and it seemed awkward. She moved to sit and hesitated until Ian gestured for her to continue.
His gentlemanly manners surprised and confused her, given how she got here. Where were those manners out there, in the sea, when he had literally dragged her from home? And she still had no answer as to why he had done that. She glanced out the big picture window as if it would give her answers. Instead, she saw an unfamiliar place, one she could only have dreamed of. How was this possible? A whole town here with beautiful houses and organized walkways, or perhaps swimways? There were people, lots of people, she thought as she noticed many moving through the water, and we never knew this existed?
Ian caught Sonora’s attention when he laid her silverware beside her. A spoon, a little bigger than she would've liked, and a fork. A handle just as long as she had at home but topped with only three prongs like a miniature triton. Sonora almost choked on her amusement as she glanced at Ian. Was it a joke? But the man seemed serious as he moved to his own seat.
Her gaze lingered. Polite, charming, and well, hot. If she'd met Ian somewhere else, in some different way, he was a man she would've wanted to get to know better. But now she couldn't. Sonora couldn't take away the considerably unnerving thought he had brought her here against her will. And the question of what he would do if she tried to make a run for it. No matter how mannerly he was now, he had a lot to answer for. Still, against her own better judgment, she found that while she continued to be on guard, for some reason, she was finding herself less and less afraid of him.
Sonora reminded herself that he'd creeped on her. He hadn't needed to bring her here. He could have been that cute guy who saved her butt and walked into the sunset. But he didn't do that, and he wasn't telling her why. So, she couldn't trust him. He was scary, and that was the way it would stay.
Sonora wiggled herself a little straighter after her internal pep talk. The chair's silky material under her legs, reminded her that she still only wore her swimsuit. Shocked she just noticed, she hunched over and put an arm across her bare belly.
Instantly, Ian asked, "What is wrong?"
Sonora startled at Ian's deep voice. Should she tell
him? But he was her only source of, well, anything. It was him she had to ask, even if it was just for a towel. "I feel… I need some clothes. I hadn't remembered I only had on my swimsuit."
"Oh, yes. I forgot you humans prefer more clothing than we do." Ian stood, utterly comfortable at dinner in his swimming trunks. Was she making too much out of this?
Ian bowed his head to her. "Excuse me for a moment."
Sonora caught herself in a smile. His manners sometimes seemed as antique as the furniture he collected. Was that the way with all Atlantians? The whole place was becoming more and more intriguing to her.
With the aroma of dinner literally in her face, Sonora's stomach almost burned. Was it considered poor manners if she took a quick bite of lobster? As Ian walked to the living room, Sonora peeled a bit away and popped it into her mouth. It deliciously melted away, leaving her uttering a low, "Yum!"
Unable to hold off, Sonora took another forkful of the tasty meal. She eagerly chewed the lobster for a moment, then come to a complete stop, swallowing hard as she watched Ian.
He tapped his cheek then spoke in a musical language that Sonora didn't understand. It was a reminder that English was not his native language. She narrowed her eyes. What was the man doing talking to himself? An idea flashed through her mind.
Ian turned back to the dining room but didn't make it before Sonora jumped from her chair, meeting him on his way back. Pep talk forgotten, her eyes were alight with curiosity. Sonora grabbed Ian's hand and pulled it down, examining it. She put a hand to his face, lightly running her fingers over his cheek and jaw. "What did you do? What did you do there?"
Confusion covered Ian's face as he put his hand over hers. "I did nothing—“
"What," she repeated. Not finding anything on Ian's cheek, Sonora slid her other hand over his, turning it in hers again. "did you do?"
Ian's expression cleared. "Ah, I talked to my father." He laughed.
Sonora shook her head. "Stop laughing at me and explain. Explain how."
Though his gaze continued to dance with amusement, he sobered. "Yes, ma'am. It is an implant, something like, say a... cell phone."
"No, no way!" Sonora's pulse raced in excitement. "I didn't think those were out yet. Just, you know, in the movies."
"I don't know where they are in your world, but in mine, we have had them for a long time. Our technology is far more advanced than humans."
Sonora ignored the look of distaste that came over his face every time he uttered the word humans and concentrated on the technology. "How far advanced?" Comprehension burst and she almost danced on her raised toes. "Is this also how you talk underwater?"
"Yes."
“Does it go from here to land?”
“Not really. If we are very close to the shore perhaps.”
A knock sounded, and Sonora's heels hit the floor. Ian walked toward a door Sonora hadn't noticed before. She followed him. Her curiosity was already at an all-time high. She wanted to see another Atlantian up close. And maybe they would help her.
Ian opened the door to a man that bore a resemblance to him, perhaps an older brother or a cousin. Ian tipped his head toward the man and said, "Jorah, my father."
Sonora's mouth dropped. "Your father?" She turned to Jorah and smiled. "You look as young as your son. It's nice to meet you."
Jorah's manner was stiff. "And your name is?"
Sonora's cheeks pinked, and she glanced at Ian. She'd clearly committed a social blunder. Of course, she might have had a few others, but Ian hadn't told her. "Sonora. It's Sonora, but my nickname is Sunny."
Ian beamed. "Sunny. That is perfect."
Jorah gave Ian a disapproving glance. Then he said in somehow the most polite, and yet, insulting way, "Sonora, excuse me. I must speak to Caspian.”
Not letting Jorah's demeanor stop her, she threw an uneasy look at Ian. "Speaking of your son, I'm here against my will."
Jorah looked from her to Ian and back again. "I believe you are right where you need to be, no matter how any of us feels about it. Now I apologize, but this is urgent." Jorah put his arm around Ian and turned him away from Sonora, leaving her gaping at him. Jorah said a few sentences to Ian in Atlantian, shoved a container into his son's arms and strode away.
What did he mean? She was where she belonged? Sonora watched Jorah march down the hallway. She guessed she should be happy it wasn’t Ian's dear old dad who kidnapped her. Ian was a teddy bear compared to him.
Sonora peered down the corridor. Where did this lead?
Ian’s fingers wrapped around her arm, and Sonora looked up at him. His face seemed like thunder, causing her heart to batter against her ribs. She tried to back away from him. "I'm sorry. I had to try! You know I had to try!"
Ian's voice was gruff, angry. "What?"
Sonora trembled. She was at this man's mercy, there was no doubt about that now. "I'm sorry,” she said. “but I'm not sorry."
Ian's face softened, and he put a hand to her hair. "Sunny, do not worry, it is not you I am angry with." He handed her the box Jorah brought. "Here, my father brought you these clothes from my sisters."
Sonora looked down at the floral-covered box. "Something's wrong. If it's not me, what is it?"
Ian practically spat out the word. "Humans." This time there was more than distaste, this time there was hatred.
Fourteen
That Rage
Chapter Fourteen
"Atlantians." The dark-haired man hissed the word, hatred lacing his voice. He slammed his office phone against its cradle, producing the unsatisfactory sound of plastic smacking plastic. His men were on the trail of another one, but he had slipped away, literally, into the sea the day before. The dark-haired man ordered his goons to watch and see if the Atlantian resurfaced, but so far the creature hadn’t ventured from the water.
The man drummed his fingers on the desk pad as he looked around his pristine office. Ever since he was a boy, he had been neat. In fact, if you asked his mother, she would say he straightened the delivery room the minute he was born. Whether a natural personality trait or compulsive behavior, he didn't know or care. The dark-haired man only knew that he felt truly at rest when his world was in order.
Orderliness helped him in his work and made him what he was. The dark-haired man was not only a scientist but also analyzed the results of his data. He decided which experiment would be done on which Atlantian, watched the creatures squirm as they were performed, and determined when each abomination was no longer of any use to him. A light gleamed in the dark-haired man's eyes as he remembered the last specimen he'd pushed off the cliff. He took joy in it all.
His orderly mind required a clean, almost spare look, so his office contained only two colors. Black and white. The interior decorator tried, quite insistently, to get him to add a third color for what she called pop, but the dark-haired man held his ground. The decorator left very displeased, but he felt quite satisfied with the completed room.
His gaze caught on a canvas that hung on the wall directly across from his desk. White background, black city. He squinted at it for a moment before getting up and walking to it. He tapped the bottom corner, moving the frame the tiniest fraction of an inch. Most people wouldn't have noticed the difference, but he did. He nodded and sat back down behind his large, black desk.
He needed another specimen. With so much left to do, he didn't enjoy having downtime. Perhaps some refrigerated samples could be used in the tests run today, but that would only last so long. The dark-haired man rose and headed out to the hallway, waving happily to the other employees in the area. One had to keep up appearances.
This part of the building held the work the others expected, the work he would show to the public. His black and white office, as well as the dark-haired man's public lab area, was here. His second research area, completely separate and hidden from passersby, was where his real work took place.
Turning toward the restroom area, the familiar floor to ceiling dark blue cartoon whale fl
oated on the back wall. He once again congratulated himself on his inventiveness. In the darkest blue shade, a door hid in plain sight. The dark-haired man turned the handle and stepped into what would seem to any snoop to be only a broom closet. He pushed on the rear wall, causing the panel to move.
That door led to an old abandoned area. Most other employees thought it no longer used and cut off from the rest of the building, but he had created a way in.
The man took the dimly lit hallway marked 'Labs' and passed dark, dusty offices until he found the room he was looking for. He turned and flipped the light switch, going straight to the refrigerator and pulling out the samples on work today.
Every day he squeezed in some time here. He had one goal in mind, the betterment of humankind. As much as the dark-haired man hated it, those abominations were healthier than humans. They were stronger, had fewer physical defects, and lived longer. If he could find some way to use what they had to help humans, maybe what he went through would be worth it.
His thoughts drifted back to the first time he had sworn the sea creatures would suffer for what they did. Just a boy, he sat at the funeral of his parents sobbing. The story of their death swirled through the adults standing over him. A freak accident by a crazed man, but he knew better. He'd been there.
The man had plowed through their house. He had been tall and abnormally strong, but the thing most remarkable was his rage. It burned so hot it destroyed everyone around him. That rage and the tattoo running over his arm were seared in the boy's memory. He'd come for the boy's father, tracking him from the sea. The tattooed man bellowed his father's name as he raced at him and whispered it as his father lay dying.
The boy's mother, in her fear and grief, picked up a kitchen knife and came at the tattooed man. Still drinking in the sight of the broken body he had created, he tossed his arm. The boy's mother flew across the room. There was a crack and her neck twisted as she hit the wall.