Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

"You can't be serious." Nireed's older sister, Aersila, set aside the whalebone dagger she was sharpening to pin her with an eviscerating glare. They were in Aersila's workshop, lined wall to wall with all manner of tools and weaponry, and one of many rooms their pod's foreparents carved out when they'd tunneled into a great underwater sea cliff to build their city. When Aersila wasn't out hunting, or visiting her son Ryn, this was where she spent her time. Creating. "Why would you talk to the strange Surface Dweller?"

Why indeed. Nireed flicked a jar on a nearby shelf, salvaged from a shipwreck, and the motion-sensitive plankton inside that Aersila used to illuminate her space twinkled all around them, alerted by the perceived "threat."

Nireed had identified the Surface Dweller's scent almost immediately. She didn't need to speak to him, but she'd wanted to know what kind of man he was, if he was someone who might help those in need beyond the scope of his job, and the impulse to see if he'd recognize her out of context overtook all good sense. And he hadn't recognized her. Not until she'd flashed her luminescent eyes and the kind of smile even Lorelei found disquieting.

It was wicked, cruel even, toying with him like that, but it had been a test, a self-assurance.

Masking the parts of herself that made her distinctly siren, she'd walked through a crowd of humans, mirroring the way they moved and talked. Claws sheathed, eyes dimmed, teeth and scales retracted, none were the wiser.

Look how well I blend in.

Each of the sea's creatures adapted to their surroundings, evolving over time to optimize their species' survival. And as the tuna's white belly rendered it nearly invisible against the backdrop of the surface's bright light, obscuring it from the predators lurking in the depths below, so too was Nireed, evolving her ability to hide in plain sight.

Blending in meant safety and not going back into that dreaded tank.

"I thought he'd be able to help us."

"I don't see why you'd think that." Folding her arms, Aersila twitched her fins irritably.

"He's a Coast…Warrior." Now was not the time to explain how he'd corrected her. "His duty is to save people from danger."

"Surface Dwellers, maybe. Not us."

If Nireed could convince him they weren't the mindless monsters he imagined, and appeal to his built-in sense of duty, they'd have another valuable Surface-Dweller ally on their side. Time and time again, working with humans, the right humans, at least, greatly benefited the pod.

This was an opportunity.

"He has resources our friends don't. A sky boat for one. And if there's any group of Surface Dwellers that can stop the fishermen hunting us, it's the one he belongs to. That's what Shorewalker said."

"Shorewalker said." Aersila hissed out an angry stream of bubbles. "She's the reason you were in that tank to begin with, but at least she has ties to the ocean and our people. He doesn't."

Going with Lorelei to shore had been Nireed's choice. Staying…not so much. But her friend rectified that situation and repaid the debt tenfold. So why was Aersila so upset? "I'm here. I'm fine."

"This time. But what if he'd taken you instead? You don't know where his allegiances lay."

"I can take care of myself."

"You were gone for over a year!" Aersila slapped her palm down so hard her workbench—solid stone—cracked down the center in a hairline fissure. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You didn't, and it paid off. We're not sick anymore. And you've reunited with your son. That wouldn't have been possible otherwise."

"You're so quick to take risks, diving in with little to no information and hoping for the best. This is no different. You've no reason to trust him. Those fishermen were his own kind, and he was there to save them. He's their ally. Not yours. Not ours."

That's what Aersila thought of her efforts? That she just flitted around the Surface Dwellers, not a single thought in mind, recklessly hoping everything would work out? It was one thing for Aersila to fear for her safety and the possibility that she might disappear and never return—either taken in captivity or outright killed—but another to treat her like a helpless child.

"Give me more credit than that, sister." She signed the words with harsh, cutting motions.

Their kind dove into the deep, dark unknown every single day. How they handled its dangers, especially the ones that surprised them, was the truest test of strength and mettle. But it never kept them from diving in the first place.

"I wish you'd just leave Undine to handle this."

Nireed clenched her teeth, and with a hard slap of her tail, zipped out of Aersila's workshop, and away from her people's underwater cliffside city. There were small clusters of merfolk swimming about, but she was too angry to talk or even attempt pleasantries, and the others gave her a wide berth. Sour moods were easily detected, the scent rippling out through the water in pungent waves. It was as good as a spoken warning.

With short, quick flicks of her tail, Nireed ascended to the kelp forest above the city, its towering green stalks standing sentry, swaying gently in the current.

This was where she came to think when she wanted to be alone.

"I wish you'd just leave Undine to handle this."

If she'd stayed any longer, she just might've listened. All her life, she'd looked up to her fiercer, braver older sister, let her take care of them, make all the decisions, shoulder all the worry, and risk her life again and again so that the pod could survive.

But while it was once easier to let Aersila, Undine, and all the older merfolk handle things, those days were done and gone. Not only was Nireed older now, but she'd also grown into full maturity, and it was well past time they treated her like it, especially when she could, and had , made a difference. Hanging back, doing nothing, grated against her instincts to serve and protect their own.

How could her sister not see that? And what right did she have to lecture her on risk-taking?

Aersila was the most daring of them all. She'd solo hunted sharks, and had even taken on a trespassing giant squid, hacking at its tentacles until it decided she was too much trouble and descended further into the deep where it belonged.

And when Nireed had been in captivity for over a year, Aersila scaled a Surface Dweller vessel, the first time their kind had done so in over a century, not since wood and sails had been traded for fuel-powered engines and propellers. The noise they made was horrendous, a constant, discordant grinding that left the ears ringing for days after. Approaching just wasn't worth the agony, and yet, Aersila had endured it for her, to demand Lorelei's mate that they give Nireed back.

But her sister's most daring mission of all left her with scars deeper than skin and scale. When the pod was still brainsick and divided—the mermen controlled by violence—she risked encounter after encounter just to get pregnant, desperately trying to bolster their rapidly dwindling numbers.

Her son Ryn was the result of such efforts. And because of the sickness, and the way it affected the male children, she had to give him up to the mermen to keep the pod safe, all without hope of ever seeing him again.

So, if Aersila thought Nireed's visits to the surface and interactions with a Coast Warrior were too risky, it must be so. She didn't fault Aersila for wanting to keep her safe. Nireed, herself, had felt that way about her sister time and time again, but the difference was she'd believed in her. When someone said they could do something, they had every right to try. That was the merfolk way.

"You're so quick to take risks." Aersila's words echoed back to her. "Leave Undine to handle this."

Nireed slapped her tail with extra force.

Hypocrite. And what did Undine know about the Land Above the Water? Or the Surface Dwellers' customs? Nothing. Nireed could count on one hand the number of times Undine had walked dry sand and stone, and she only spoke with Shorewalker when she had to.

Besides, their leader was needed here to watch over and guide the pod, especially as more and more of their own disappeared in the fishermen's nets. Not to mention, Undine now had a little one that she couldn't be away from for long.

No. There was only one mermaid for this task.

Drifting to the edge where the open ocean and kelp forest met, Nireed stared at the wall of green before her, then at the water above, a blue so deep and dark weaker eyes might call it black.

Nireed may have been trapped in a tank for over a year, but she'd learned a lot in that time, including the Surface Dwellers' language.

They needed her to do this.

And she would do this. It didn't matter what Aersila said. Nireed knew her own mind, her own capabilities, and not even her once-daring sister's reticence could stop her from doing what she knew was right.

It had been only a day since Nireed had last seen Shorewalker, but her reporter friend worked quickly and should have an answer by now about who owned The Merry Mariner , and why they were hunting merfolk.

Nireed swam for shore.

Just under a mile offshore, Reid and his aircrew practiced emergency scenarios. When there wasn't maintenance to do or cases to run, they were training, because in this line of work, in this service, "Semper Paratus" were the words they lived by. Drills after drills after drills until knowing what to do became second nature, so that they could keep on going even when fear and exhaustion took hold.

Overhead, the helicopter hovered, its propeller beating a wide circumference onto the ocean's surface, spraying up water.

Perez's voice crackled over the radio. "Great day for a picnic."

Blue skies, calm water, and not a cloud in sight. The perfect sunny day in coastal Maine. Cold as fuck, though. It might've been summer, but the initial shock of jumping straight into fifty-degree water never went away, no matter how many times he did this.

"Too bad we're on duty for the next twenty-four hours." That was when the unit's second aircrew team would relieve them for a few days of liberty.

"Kruetz, where's your imagination? I was gonna lay out a blanket in the breakroom, pop a couple bottles of soda…"

"Do you two want some alone time?" A glance up and Reid saw Hatcher miming stepping off the edge, boot hovering in midair. "Should I leave?"

"You wanna swim back to shore?"

"Whatever the lovebirds need."

"Shut up and get in here." Reid could practically hear the eyeroll in Perez's voice.

Tuning out their banter, he swam to where they'd dropped Oscar the training dummy, now floating helplessly several meters away in an orange Type-5 PFD. Coming up from behind and hooking him under his floppy, plastic arms, Reid kicked back and towed him toward the pickup point.

Once Oscar was loaded into the basket lift, he gave the signal, and Hatcher got the hoist going. Water dripped from the metal basket as it rose, climbing steadily toward the helicopter above.

Even though Perez was joking about the picnic, his stomach rumbled with a vengeance at the thought of food. Swimming always made him ravenous, but there'd be several more drill evolutions to run through before they could call it a day and head back to shore. Several more hours until dinner.

A bright bit of orange caught the corner of his eye, something rippling just along the surface about a hundred feet away.

Had they lost a bit of equipment?

He kicked out with his fins, swimming toward the floating object, following its path through the rolling waves, taking him further and further away from the helicopter.

"Kruetz, where are you going?" Hatcher called.

"There's something in the water."

"Leave it."

But Reid couldn't. Something of theirs or not, it wouldn't do to leave shit around, polluting the ocean. He cut a straight line toward it, propelling himself forward with smooth, efficient strokes, and watched it rise with the swell of a wave, then dip down, disappearing from sight. He waited for the next swell to bring it back into view.

It never did.

Already icy water grew colder, some glacial current making him shiver, and the back of his neck prickled, each of the little hairs standing on end. He scanned the surface, looking for the lost object when something bumped his leg. Shark, seal, harbor porpoise, he couldn't tell, but fear dug in its claws when Perez began shouting over the radio, "Kruetz, abort, abort! There's a…"

Something grabbed onto his ankles with a punishing grip and yanked him under, the rest of the radio transmission lost to garbled static. Water rushed up around him, a pair of glowing amber eyes meeting his, maybe two feet from his face. Jesus, fuck! He lurched away, kicking hard, but the creature had already let him go.

He burst above the waterline, coughing and sputtering.

The mermaid.

She popped to the surface next to him, thrusting something orange and cylindrical against his chest. "I found this," she said brightly, strangely both proud and mischievous. "Thought it might be yours."

He caught it—a water rescue throw bag, something he used all the time when working swift water rescue in Michigan. But this one belonged to the Haven Cove fire department, judging by the emblem printed on its side. It wouldn't have taken much for a current to carry it out here, only a mile from shore.

It wouldn't have taken much for the mermaid to drown him either. "Why the hell did you yank me under like that?"

She cocked her head to the side, blinking slowly. "I had to get your attention."

"You could've drowned me!"

"Could've. But I didn't."

He slapped the water. "Dammit. That's not funny!"

Confusion, then concern pinched her brow. "I'm not laughing. And I wasn't trying to drown you either."

"Then if you wanted my attention, you could've just popped above the surface and waved. You didn't need to grab me."

"I'm sorry." She dipped her head, but more in acquiescence than shame. "That wasn't my intent. I wanted to prove a point."

"And what point was that?" This was her domain, that much was terrifyingly clear. It didn't need to be proved over and over again.

"That if I was a mindless creature driven to murder, you'd be dead twice over. But I've no reason to protect my own from you, do I?" The question was casual, but there was an unmistakable wary pointedness to it that struck him. It sounded a lot like uncertainty. Like he might be the threat in this situation and leaving him alive a risk she might one day come to regret.

That zapped his anger. "Are you…afraid of me?"

"Should I be?" It wasn't mockery he heard, but more of that wariness. She was afraid. Maybe not of him specifically, but of what he could do, and that disarmed him further.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

She nodded once, dimming. "I guess that's fair. You've your own to protect, too."

She sounded so resigned, he'd the odd desire to reassure her. They weren't enemies per se, but they weren't allies either. And yet, some weird, disturbing part of him missed her smile now that it was gone—wicked thing though it was—and he missed, too, the mischief illuminating her eyes.

"You think I'm a monster," she continued, holding his gaze captive. "And I am. But not without reason."

"I don't want to be your enemy." The words just spilled out of him. No thought, no consideration, just plain, unvarnished truth, even though it didn't make a lick of sense. He should still be pissed at her for yanking him under, but when a small, half smile lifted the corner of her lips, all he felt was relief.

"Then don't be."

The radio crackled. "Kruetz, you good down there?" It was Perez.

"Yes, fine. Just give me a minute."

"Make it a quick one."

"Kruetz," the mermaid repeated. "Is that your name?"

He shook his head. "That's my family name. My name's Reid."

Her smile grew, some of that mischievousness returned, along with a healthy dose of amusement, and it was damnably infectious. It wrestled a smile out of him too.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't hold out on me now. My name means something ridiculous in mermaid, doesn't it?"

"Not at all." Her smile softened, almost warm. "My name's Nireed."

Well, I'll be… He was just a couple letters off from sharing a name with a mythological creature. "That's pretty," he trailed, and immediately wanted to punch himself. There was no way of paying that kind of compliment without sounding conceited or trite. "I mean, it's…"

Prettier than mine? For fuck's sake, he was hopeless.

With a playful flick of her tail, she splashed water at his face. "See you around, Reid ." And then she was gone, disappearing beneath the waves.

He kicked his legs faster, half expecting her to yank him under again, but she didn't. It was just him out here now.

A barrage of teasing awaited him inside the helicopter.

"Get her number while you were down there?" He could practically hear the smirk in Perez's voice.

"What? No."

"She was totally flirting with you."

"Shut up. No, she wasn't."

"Oh yes, she was."

"You're delusional."

Perez snickered, adding an evil lilt at the end, but otherwise let it drop.

They were halfway back to shore when Hatcher clasped his shoulder. "You good, man?"

Unlike their pilot, the dropmaster looked shaken. Gray even. "Yeah, just freezing my balls off."

"When she yanked you under, I thought we'd lost you. Just like those fishermen."

And he had, too, for one heart-stopping second. "She was messing with me. Didn't mean anything by it." He wasn't sure if he was defending her to reassure Hatcher or to soften the man's view of mermaids. "We're not a threat to her."

"What do you mean?" Hatcher's pale, blond brows furrowed. "‘We' this crew? Or ‘we' the Coast Guard?"

"Both."

"Kruetz's new friend just wants Nautic's fishermen to stop killing her family."

"She's not my…"

Hatcher's cheeks flamed red. "She could've killed him!"

One hundred percent true, but she didn't. "It's all right," Reid said, trying to reassure Hatcher. "She didn't hurt me."

"It's not all right! Eight people were killed by mermaids this week, and you easily could've been the ninth. How are y'all so calm about that?"

Reid lifted his hands for the dropmaster to see, both trembling, and not from cold. "Do I look all right to you?"

Hatcher buried his face in his hands, groaning. "Perez, you freaking out too?"

"Nope," she said a little too cheerfully, emphasizing the ‘p' with a pop. "I'm great."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Forgive me if I'm more suspicious of a corporate fishing company than I am of the woman who lives in the sea."

"Yeah, well, the corporate company hasn't killed anybody," Hatcher shot back. "And the people they hire are just doing their jobs."

"You so sure about that? Kruetz's mermaid says they have killed people. Her people."

"If they're just following orders…"

This needed gentle correcting. "Following orders doesn't excuse someone of wrongdoing."

"That," Perez agreed.

Slumping in his seat with an aggravated sigh, Hatcher stared at the cabin ceiling. "We saw people die. But fuck me for being concerned, I guess." He drummed his fingers in an erratic, impatient rhythm along his knee. "Let's, for argument's sake, say I believe mermaid's telling the truth. That doesn't mean I trust her with my life." He pinned Reid with a hard look. "Or yours."