Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

Too tired to swim home, Nireed spent the night in Shorewalker's cove, snugly wedged between two rocks, hugging a ball of seaweed to her chest. Not so snug that she'd get stuck, or be unable to move water past her gills, but secure enough that a current wouldn't carry her away while she slept.

Shorewalker had offered the spare bedroom inside the house, but the sea was familiar.

The swim to Reid's houseboat the next morning was easy, just three inlets to the north, which saw significantly less fishing and shipping traffic than the main Haven Cove harbor. Staying close to the murky seafloor to avoid detection, Nireed dodged the occasional anchor and lobster pot.

Please be home and safe.

If he wasn't, she'd search the town from top to bottom, and if he wasn't there either, she'd return to the docks despite her promise to Lorelei and scour that place down to its last barnacle-encrusted plank.

She couldn't return home without knowing whether she'd doomed him.

As she approached the houseboat, she took care to stay well beneath the surface until she was right up against the stern, using the vessel to shield her from sight. To her relief, she could smell him inside, hear his quiet, even breathing.

He was asleep.

But how to get his attention? Rock the boat? Yell out his name? Sing? The first option would likely scare him, and she'd done that more than enough times. The second two might draw attention from his neighbors, and that was undesirable, especially after the events of yesterday.

She could shift and walk in, but the thought of entering such a small, enclosed space made her shudder. Even her tank had been bigger than this glorified tin can.

Another idea hit her.

Diving to the seafloor, Nireed scooped up a handful of pebbles. One by one, she tossed them at the backdoor. Tink. Tink. Tink. Then listened.

A sharp, sleepy inhale, followed by a groggy, "What?"

She threw a few more pebbles.

An exasperated sigh precipitated creaking bedsprings and approaching footsteps. The door was wrenched open, framing a tired, but alert Coast Warrior on the other side. Reid's hair was mussed, dark auburn curls sticking up at odd angles, and his clothes a bit rumpled, but otherwise seemed fine. "Starfish? What are you doing here?"

"I had to make sure you were okay."

A faint smile graced his lips. "You were worried about me?"

"Yes."

"Oh." His brows ticked up, genuinely surprised, like he hadn't been expecting her to admit it. Sitting down, he dangled his legs over the edge. "Yeah, I'm okay, other than staying up late obsessively checking the news for updates."

"Did they find anything?"

"No. We'll see what the next few days bring, of course, but I'm thinking we got lucky. Helps too that the public seems to have latched onto the idea that it was investigative journalists or environmental activists who broke in. People tend to believe the most plausible explanation, and I don't think a mermaid and a Coast Guard rescue swimmer even qualifies as one."

Shorewalker had been of the same opinion, but it felt better to hear it echoed by him. This put her at ease about his continued safety. "I shouldn't have left you behind last night. That's not what a good podmate does, and you deserve the same courtesy. I didn't even think, just fled."

"It wasn't as bad as you're making it sound. You warned me. I could've followed."

"This is true. But I am the one who brought you into all this, and I never thought it could get you in trouble with other Surface Dwellers. For that I'm sorry."

"It was my decision. I knew what I was risking, and you offered me an out, but I appreciate you acknowledging it all the same."

She dipped her head, accepting this, but promised herself to be more careful about the kind of help she asked from him in the future.

"But thanks for coming to check on me. That was thoughtful."

Nireed pushed off the stern, preparing to dive. Now that she knew Reid was safe, and probably would remain so for the near future, she needed to return home. It wasn't unusual for her to visit Shorewalker for a few days at a time, but with Nautic being a constant threat, Aersila would be worried. "I know I can be vicious. But I'm not heartless."

He watched her, quiet and thoughtful. "No. I don't think you are."

The swim home was a long one. And not just because of the distance. Recent failure and the Coast Warrior's quiet rejection the night before weighed heavily on Nireed's mind.

She wasn't any closer to proving Nautic's murderous designs and, until she did, more and more of her people would die. Though the fault lay entirely with Nautic, it felt more like her own. Because she had an idea. She just hadn't worked up the courage to attempt it. Yet, the longer she dawdled, the more time Nautic had to exact their ruthless slaughter.

And Reid. Dancing with him had muddied her feelings. This was supposed to be an alliance, and yet, the easy way they moved together made her consider more seriously the possibility she might desire something more from him. Something he seemed to also want but couldn't, or wouldn't, give.

Or maybe this was just the beginning of a mating frenzy, and she was confusing it with real feelings. But at least that problem had the luxury of time to resolve. The other did not.

At home, Nireed found both her sister and Undine waiting for her, grimly serious expressions on their faces. She'd expected the former, but their pod leader being there as well could only mean one thing: an intervention. All her shoreside efforts would be questioned, maybe even stopped. All because her own sister didn't believe she could make a difference.

Her heart sunk to the pit of her stomach.

"Where were you?" Aersila signed. "You were gone for two days."

"I was with Shorewalker. That's nothing new. I regularly see her for days at a time."

Her sister narrowed her eyes. "I smell more than just Shorewalker on you."

Had his scent rubbed off on her that much? "And?"

"And you need to stop seeing that Surface Dweller."

"His name is Reid."

"Fine, this Reid. And Shorewalker too." Such vehemence, such authority in those demands, and she had no right.

Anger flared hotter than the water near a hydrothermal vent. "Why?" She smacked out the word with her hands, tail twitching irritably.

"It's too dangerous, not worth the risk," Undine signed, finally deigning to join the conversation.

"And sending me to shore to be a Surface Dweller experiment was?"

"We were sick, desperate."

"Are we not desperate now?"

"It's not the same. We can rely on our own now." Undine shifted the bundle wrapped around her chest. Her baby was swaddled in a woven seaweed blanket, nursing at their leader's breast, pudgy little hands holding on.

Longing panged low in Nireed's belly, her heart, her arms. The desire to cradle and nuzzle a little one of her own swept over her like a tidal wave. She wanted to be a mother someday and not just because the pod expected her to.

Baby reoriented, Undine continued, "Two more of our own have gone missing. It's not that I don't trust Shorewalker or Cure Creator—I'll always be grateful for what they've done for this pod—but you stray to shore too often, Nireed. It's going to get you captured again or killed."

"That only happened because you asked me to go. And I went willingly to help the pod, so it won't happen again unless I mean it to." Undine didn't need to know that Nireed had doubts at points about her ability to blend in and not get caught.

"If you want to help the pod, boost our numbers." Undine paused to press a kiss to the top of her baby's head. "We can smell the beginnings of mating frenzy on you. Make use of it. Find a mate."

"One of the mermen," Aersila added pointedly. "Not the Surface Dweller."

This was ridiculous. Her scales parted just once, and everyone had an opinion about it. "Who, Aquilus?" Nireed slapped the words out, and Aersila flinched. "Cyrus, who's barely old enough, or the one who's just as overenthusiastic as he is lackluster? I don't see why I need to bother. Our kind have mated with Surface Dwellers plenty in the past."

"Out of necessity." Undine's expression was stern, but motherly, which only made Nireed angrier. Their pod leader had ten years on her, that was it. "Now we can mate with our own. Few options are still options. Your Surface Dweller can give you babies, yes, but he can't be here to help you raise them."

"When the mating frenzy takes hold, you'll be insatiable," Undine continued. "It'll trickle over to the rest of the pod, so you might be able to find a few attached males willing to see you through it. If you'd like, I can help arrange…"

Nireed scoffed. As if that made it any better. They were discussing her life as if she had no choice. Shorewalker had always given her a choice. Cure Creator too. And when that had been taken away from them all, they fought for her.

And Reid? What if she didn't want to mate with him? While she had felt a spark of something, some unexplored potential, she barely even had the time to think about it, much less make any sort of decision. Wanting a baby soon didn't mean right now. It was worth waiting for a connection. For love.

"Why is she here?" Nireed signed to Aersila in sharp, cutting motions. "Are you going to make me mate someone I don't want to? Are you going to chain me here? Because that's what it'll take."

Her sister reared back as if she'd been slapped.

"Of course not, but if you don't mate…"

"What? My tail will fall off? I'll perish from unfulfilled lust?"

"Well, no…"

"Then what, Aersila? What will happen? I'll hurt my wrist taking care of myself for a few weeks? My frenzy will spread to you, and you'll finally work up the courage to tangle tails with Aquilus?"

"It makes you rash, stupidly fearless." Aersila slammed her hands together, harshly punctuating each word. But her face had crumpled, anguish and defeat etched into every line. Nireed didn't need to see the tears to know they were there. "You'll go against your instincts and take risks you shouldn't. You'll make mistakes."

Tender feelings for her sister displaced the anger. While Aersila had been wrong to bring Undine into a private, personal matter, it had come from a deep well of hurts. Of experience she did not want Nireed to repeat.

The motions of Nireed's hands softened as she signed, "Do you regret yours?"

"Not Ryn, but yes, sometimes." Aersila's body slumped. "Don't follow in my wake, Nireed. Be smarter than me."

Taking her sister's face in her hands, Nireed pressed their foreheads together for a long moment. Aersila stilled, waiting. This quiet acquiescence meant she'd listen to what Nireed had to say next.

Nireed pulled back to sign, "I have been following my instincts. Haven't gone against them once. Believe I'm capable. Believe in me , sister."

"But a Surface Dweller, Nireed? He's so far away. If you have a baby together…"

Frustration leeched in. "I haven't decided if I even want to try, much less with him."

"Just let me finish." Her sister's gaze was pleading. "It needs to be said."

Whatever her sister needed to say, even if it pissed her off, she'd hear it out this once, and then no more. The conversation about what Nireed did with her body, and who she did or didn't give her tail to, ended after that.

"He's so far away. If you want to be with him, raise your children together, he can't come to you. You'd have to go to him, away from the city, away from the pod, away from me. You'd be a Shallows Dweller. Your babies too. And you might be clever enough to avoid detection, to skirt a fisherman's net, but what about them? What will you do if they take your children?"

Understanding harpooned through her. Here, she'd been thinking short-term, but Aersila had her eye on the horizon.

Undine, who'd gone quiet throughout the exchange, held her baby closer.

They were good points, every one of them, but they didn't have the effect her sister intended. What Aersila saw as reasons to divert course, Nireed saw as a need to steer steady.

She would make these waters safer. For Aersila, for Ryn, for the baby in Undine's arms, and for all the babies she'd one day hold in hers.

And Reid was going to help her.

Before she could say as much, a wave of panic flooded the water, erratic topaz light filling the space as Melusina darted into her and her sister's shared abode.

"What is it?" Undine straightened.

"Celia's missing." Melusina looked sick. "Delphine and Zavier have already gone out to look for her."

Dread trickled its glacial current down Nireed's spine, and the collective spike of emotion in the water meant she wasn't alone.

Celia was only a year old, but siren children were born able to swim on their own. Look away for just a moment, and they've darted off, getting their fins in things they shouldn't. That Undine swaddled hers to her breast for nursing was more about motherly connection than need.

"Gather the others." Each one of Undine's movements held fierce command, her electric blue luminescence blinking steadily, and Nireed admired her assuredness and strength. This was why she was their leader, even though many of their elders had thought her too young. Undine did not falter in the face of adversity. "Whatever it takes, we'll find her."

The pod took to the open water as one, their chorus of desperate, searching song flowing on the currents, pleading to the Twenty-Armed Goddess for intercession, pleading to Celia to follow the sound of their song. To come back to them. To safety.

A weak, but unalarmed note answered.

Through a game of call and response, Nireed and the others found Celia, spotted her at a distance, close to the surface, happily twirling around in the water, giggles bubbling from her mouth. Oblivious to the danger rapidly closing in.

By natural law, there should be safety in numbers. But how had Nireed forgotten? There was no such thing when a net hundreds of feet wide and deep could swallow entire pods whole. But for now, they were on the outside looking in. Watching in horror as the unthinkable happened.

Their song died.

They only saw the net because it was already cinching, pulling everything inside it closer and closer together. Everything including Celia, who'd swum unknowingly right into its snare.

Delphine let out a heart wrenching screech as she raced toward the net. Toward the rapidly shrinking opening at its bottom. Toward her baby.

"Delphine!" Nireed screamed.

But the ocean swallowed her name.