Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

For nearly his whole life, Reid had no idea mermaids existed, and now, he couldn't go anywhere without bumping into one. Water, land, it didn't matter, because here he was, down at the docks, looking to buy lobster from one of the local, independent fishermen, and there was Nireed across the pier, slinking between outbuildings, dripping wet in an ill-fitted dress.

He cast a look around, a light rain pelting his rain jacket.

The docks were bustling with afternoon activity—fishermen offloading their catch and getting it ready for market—all too wrapped up in their routine to notice the siren sneaking around. Nireed weaved between stacks of lobster pots and other equipment, pausing occasionally to read a building sign before shaking her head and continuing onward.

What are you up to, Starfish? It looked more like searching than hunting, but there was only one way to be sure.

Abandoning his place in line, Reid tailed after her, fully preparing to talk her out of trouble. He ducked behind a bit of equipment and whisper-yelled, "Nireed, wait up!"

Body tensing, she spun into a crouched position, poised to lunge.

Throwing up his hands, he quickly added, "It's just me."

"Coast Warrior." She relaxed, a smile softening her face. She seemed more pleased to see him than he expected. "What a pleasant surprise."

The last time he saw her, he'd scared her away with his touch. No matter how well intentioned—wetting a drying bit of hair, playfully tapping her nose—he hadn't asked if it was all right, and that wasn't cool. His mother had taught him better than that.

He crouched beside Nireed, their bodies hidden behind a cluster of barrels. This brought them closer together, but she didn't move away, and he hoped that was a good sign.

"About the other night," he began, pretending to be fascinated by a callous on his thumb. Apologies were hard to get right, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. "I made you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry."

"Reid." She tilted his chin, bringing his eyes to hers. Chips of amber glinted back at him, so bold and unflinching. What horrors and wonders those eyes must've seen. What truths. "Look at me when you have something important to say."

Respect. Honesty. That's what she was demanding. No matter their differences, what uncertainties remained between them, he owed her that, and for the simple reason that she was a person. He stared into those eyes, both eerie and beautiful, and said, "I shouldn't have touched you." No matter how much he'd wanted to.

A flush rose to the mermaid's cheeks, but she kept her eyes trained on his. "I wasn't expecting it, but I'm not mad that you did."

"No? You swam away pretty fast."

"That wasn't because I didn't like it." Her fingers slid away, scraping his stubble as they went, before dropping to her side. "I liked it a little too much."

An unexpected thrill curled up his spine at what those words implied. This had nothing to do with the circumstances that brought them together. His voice was a little hoarse when he finally replied, "How much?"

"Enough to hope you'll do it again."

Swallowing thickly, he edged closer, daring to take a drenched lock of hair between his fingers. "Don't know that I need to. The rain's got you soaked."

"A shame that it has." She sighed. "Another time, then." The siren took his hand, pulling him up with her as she stood, their little moment passed. "Come. You might as well help me while you're here."

"Help you with what?"

"Looking."

For what, for whom, she didn't elaborate, and yet, he allowed himself to be towed along, their hands still linked. At every twist and turn, they took care to stay out of sight. Whatever had brought Nireed to the docks, whatever her goal, required secrecy, that much was clear, and he hoped that whatever it was, he'd be able to keep her out of trouble.

Together, they peeked around a corner.

A white warehouse loomed ahead, larger than the ones surrounding it, with Nautic's navy blue logo emblazoned across the side in giant letters. Two eighteen-wheelers with the same branding were parked outside, backed up to loading bays. All was quiet, for now. Nautic's crews were likely still offloading at the docks.

Goddammit. There was no way what came next would be legal. She was hunting for proof and staking out the place didn't seem like her style.

She started for the warehouse, but Reid pulled her back. "What are you doing?"

"Going to have a look inside."

Breaking and entering was more like it. And it was a bad idea, but she probably didn't care much about legality when she thought her people were intentionally being killed, so he tried a different tactic. "What're we going to do if we get caught in there? You're not going to knock them out and eat them, are you?" He was only half joking.

"Too full," she deadpanned, patting her belly. "Already ate today."

Good Lord. "I can't tell if you're joking."

"About being too full?"

"No, about tactically eating someone."

"Too inefficient. Was planning to sing."

"Uh, weird but charming. How's that help us?"

"Our song has compulsion qualities."

"For weak-minded folks, maybe."

She snorted.

There wasn't much research on siren singing. What little was known about it was either conjecture or anecdotal, and while Reid could see there being a kernel of truth to the latter, it was likely exaggerated to suit the myth. And he'd admit that the merfolk's ability to shift from one form to the other seemed more fantastical than biological, but at least metamorphosis had a precedent in nature: caterpillars to butterflies, tadpoles to frogs.

Merfolk just did it at will, and he looked forward to the day when science caught up and could explain that biological process.

"Oh, you're serious. You don't think it works?"

"I believe in the power of suggestion. But outright controlling someone with supernatural abilities? Nah."

A slow smirk crept up her face. "Think you can resist me?"

"Sure, why not?" He shrugged. "Weak minds don't become Aviation Survival Technicians."

Her expression turned feral. "We shall see, Coast Warrior."

He should've known this creature would enjoy a challenge.

Whisking the hood of his rain jacket over his head, Reid grumbled, "Just keep your head down. There's a security camera above the door." Around here, security cameras were often just for show, and sure, sometimes corporate companies cheapened out and cut corners, too, but he didn't like the odds of that being the case.

Nireed swiped strands of hair in front of her face, and it made her look like The Ring girl, which was terrifying, but at least it obscured her features.

With their heads bowed, they approached the warehouse's side entrance. The mermaid beside him appeared perfectly calm, while his stomach knotted with nerves as he watched her test the door handle. It was locked.

"Going to have to break it," she muttered, undeterred.

Stilling her hand, he quickly searched for a key code panel. If there was one, it might mean that busting in would trigger an alarm.

This was such a terrible idea.

Although Reid didn't find a panel, he swiped a hand over his face. He could get into a lot of trouble for this if they got caught. Lose his job. Get slapped with criminal charges. Possibly go to jail. But if Nireed was right about Nautic, the stakes would be even higher for her. If they truly were mermaid-killers, and they realized what she was, this could get her killed.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "If they realize what you are…"

"I know, but I face that danger every day. I need to do this. Are you sure?"

"Not even a little bit."

Her expression softened. "You don't have to come in. I can do this on my own."

The thought of leaving Nireed to face whatever lay ahead alone made him uneasy. He withdrew his hand. "No, where you go, I go."

She pushed down hard on the handle, and a crunching sound followed as she broke its locking mechanism. With a good shove from her shoulder, the door opened. He was no slouch when it came to strength and endurance, but Nireed had him outmatched ten times over.

Peeking in, she murmured, "It's clear," and slipped inside.

Everything about this situation was a gamble. The risks far outweighed any chance of reward, but reminding himself that literal lives were on the line, Reid followed.

It was cool inside the warehouse, intended to keep the inventory fresh. Some of it would be distributed locally, but most would be trucked out to grocery stores and restaurants across New England.

Reid spotted a pair of discarded work gloves sitting on a nearby shelf and donned them. Leaving his fingerprints everywhere would be peak idiocy, especially since all federal employees like him were fingerprinted as a part of their pre-employment background checks. He was an absolute idiot for breaking in to begin with, but hopefully, a smart idiot.

Together, they crept down the rows of shelving units, him one side, her the other, peeking into bins, reading labels, on the hunt for anything that might suggest Nautic was harvesting mermaid parts.

Fish, fish, lobster, fish.

The labeling was all rather straightforward—pollock, bluefish, haddock, tuna, flounder—nothing vague that might be code for "merperson." But he kept looking. Maybe there was something to find in the figurative "fine print."

"Any luck over there?" he asked on the loud end of a whisper.

She shook her head curtly.

Row by row, bin by bin, they searched, carefully combing through Nautic's products. Not even a hint that there might be nefarious underpinnings to the company's business. Disappointment and frustration radiated from the tense set of Nireed's shoulders, far too palpable to be disingenuous. She'd been counting on finding something damning.

An unexpected desire to offer the vicious mermaid comfort settled over him.

"There's nothing here," she hissed, yanking roughly on her hair roots. Angry tears sprung from her eyes.

The can of premade lobster bisque held in his hands was quickly abandoned on the nearest shelf. "Hey," he soothed, crossing the aisle. He entwined her fingers with his, gently prying them away from her hair. "This place is probably checked regularly by a fisheries inspector. Nautic wouldn't dare keep anything suspicious here." He'd no idea if that was true, but Nireed seemed crushed by the lack of evidence, and he hated seeing her so distraught. "Looking here was a good hunch."

She huffed out a frustrated breath, eyes shining with tears as she gazed up at him. "I need to stop them before more of my people die, and I'd hoped to find something here that proves we're not lying." She gestured limply to the shelving around them. "But nothing I do brings me any closer to securing my people's safety."

For all her strength and confidence on the docks, this Nireed seemed on the verge of a breakdown. It was the most vulnerable Reid had ever seen her. There was no thinking involved, he just tugged her into his chest, arms enfolding her body, comforting, shielding, being a rock to lean on, even if only just for a moment.

This sense of helplessness, of not being enough for the people counting on you, was a feeling he knew all too well. No matter how long he did his job, it would never be easy coming to terms with the fact that he couldn't save everyone. Didn't matter how strong, how fast, how smart a person was, no one was a miracle worker, not even supernatural creatures like Nireed.

He rested his cheek on top of her head, unfazed by the touch of cold, damp hair.

The mermaid had helped slaughter at least eight fishermen, and yet, it was getting harder and harder to distrust her.

"Hey, Carl!" A voice called out. "You see this? Door's busted."

They both froze, clinging to each other for one tense moment, before instinct, or acute dread, finally kicked in. Reid yanked Nireed into a tight, shadowy nook between shelving units, neither daring to breathe as their bodies pressed together.

They had to get out of here. There was another door toward the front of the warehouse, maybe one hundred or so feet away. Should they sneak out? Make a run for it?

Reid was making mental calculations when a second person shouted back. "Someone break in?"

"It sure looks like it. Better call the cops."

The heavy plod of booted feet approaching made them both shrink back, Nireed's claws curling into his jacket, but one look at her face, at the tightness in her jaw, and the ferocity in her eyes, said it was more restraint than fear.

Two grown adults squeezed into a small space, there wasn't a part of him that wasn't touching her, and if it weren't for the utter dread of getting caught, he might've appreciated that more.

"Carl, get your ass back here! We drive forklifts and load freight. Neither of us get paid enough to fuck around with thieves."

Reid whispered against Nireed's ear. "Can you tell how far away he is?"

She nodded faintly. "About one whale length."

If Reid wasn't such a nerd, that information wouldn't have meant anything to him, but he was, and the whale species found in the Gulf of Maine—humpback and right whales, namely—were approximately fifty feet in length. "Same aisle?"

She carefully peered around him, hands laid flat against his chest. "Yes."

"Feel like running? Or singing?" The last option he said as a joke, and she shot him a dirty look.

"Hey! Whoever's in here, if you're thinking of stealing anything, make my day and stick around. Otherwise, get the fuck out!"

" Caaarl , why would you taunt them like that?" Whoever this second Nautic employee was, he was well and truly over Carl's bravado.

Nireed's eyes met Reid's as she leaned into him, reaching for something above his head, bringing them so close he felt her breath tickle his cheek, her mouth mere inches from his.

He swallowed thickly.

A small smirk teased her lips as she leaned back, a can of tuna fish in hand. He was about to joke that now was not the time for a snack, but she'd already whisked out of their hiding place, winding up her arm like a professional baseball player, and hurled the can down the aisle.

A meaty thud, followed by a shocked, "Ow! What the fuck?" was his only indication she'd hit her target.

"Come on." Nireed snatched Reid's hand, and they both ran.

There was shouting behind them. He glanced back only once—one of the men, Carl presumably, clutched his head, a dented tuna can at his feet, while his coworker tried to get a look at the injury.

"Assholes!" one of them yelled.

They burst out of the warehouse's front door. It didn't seem like they were being pursued, but neither of them stopped running until they'd left the docks and reached the edge of Haven Cove's town proper. About a mile by his estimation.

He stopped first, and Nireed, who had fallen behind the farther they ran, collided into his back with a winded "oof." He didn't think he'd stopped abruptly, but with the desperate way she clung to his jacket, using him for balance, maybe she didn't know how to stop on her own. Like a toddler, she just launched herself from one point to the next, relying on objects at rest to break her inertia.

Letting him go, Nireed bent over her knees, wheezing, then gradually straightened as she sucked in air, folding her arms above her head. The fact that she knew such a breathing technique meant she'd done this before, but not often enough that this getaway wouldn't leave her out of breath. Still, he was impressed. He'd gotten the distinct impression that walking and running were things this mermaid had only recently learned how to do.

"You run good," he blurted, groaning internally. Regressing into caveman vocabulary was quickly becoming a bad habit around Nireed.

She flashed him a brief, cheeky smile as she continued to gulp down air. For a moment, he quietly observed, absorbing the details. Rosy cheeks. Wet dress. Heaving chest.

No bra…

Startled, he tore his eyes away, pretending the cracked sidewalk at his feet had suddenly become extremely interesting. It wasn't subtle, but if Nireed noticed, she mercifully didn't comment.

Rain pelted his jacket, droplets rolling down the water-repellant fabric. He considered offering it to Nireed, but while this was crappy weather by human standards, he had a hunch she preferred it.

A hurt sounding "now what?" broke the silence, and he couldn't avoid looking at her anymore.

Standing there in the rain, soaking wet from head to toe, Nireed looked so forlorn, the weight of today's failure sinking in and weighing heavy on her shoulders. More like a kicked puppy than a terrifying, flesh-eating mermaid, and Reid just wasn't going to abide that. "Let's get a drink," he said, waving for her to follow. "Come on, Starfish."

He led the way toward Main Street, wondering if the mermaid would like the taste of beer.

Nireed followed the Coast Warrior down a mostly empty street. A few Surface Dwellers were milling about, some wearing water-repellant clothing like Reid, others holding a bizarre, half-dome shaped contraption above their heads.

With every step, the sandals on her feet made an annoying squelching sound. More than one Surface Dweller who passed them by openly stared at her, some mix of surprise and judgment in their expressions, which she didn't like. It gave her the distinct impression that she wasn't blending in very well, but the rain felt nice, so she held her head high and glared at anyone who stared too long.

Reid chuckled lightly. "You look like an angry, disheveled cat."

She'd seen pictures of the creatures, including ones where they'd been given unwanted baths, their tiny bodies tensed in quiet rage as they stared at the camera with yellow, unamused eyes. Apparently, many of her mannerisms reminded Lorelei of them, and if Reid thought so, too, it must be true.

"They keep staring." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Do you think they know what I am?"

His gaze fell on her, soft and thoughtful. "Nah. I don't think that's why they're staring."

"Why, then?"

A blush pinkened his cheeks. Whatever it was, he seemed reluctant to say it.

"Reid, just say it."

"You've noticed that humans hide their bodies behind clothing," he began, cutting sharply to the left, then opening the door to a public Surface Dweller establishment.

"Yes," she affirmed, following him inside. "Am I not also?"

There were seating arrangements lining the wall to the left, a wall of bottled liquids to the right. Reid led them to a table near the front, sliding into a chair, away from a small group of Surface Dwellers who were singing and playing instruments. Given how loud they were, she appreciated the distance.

When she slid into the chair opposite him, he leaned forward, keeping his volume discreet as he said, "The way that dress is clinging to you…" He paused, rolling his lips. "Well, it's almost like you're not wearing clothes at all."

Looking down at herself, she noted how the wet cloth stuck to her skin, the shape of her breasts and nipples visible. A quick survey of the room revealed that this was not the case with any of the Surface Dwellers. "Does that bother you?"

"No." He sat back, drumming his fingers along the tabletop. "If they don't like what they see, they should look away."

That made her smirk. "What's not to like?"

He just rolled his eyes. "You're a shameless flirt, you know that?"

"I don't know what ‘flirt' means, but I am shameless."

The Coast Warrior snorted.

A strange Surface Dweller abruptly approached their table. "What can I get you?" she asked cheerfully, hands perched confidently on her hips.

Nireed reared back. What was happening? Why was this woman talking to them? Should they run? Fight?

Beneath the table, Reid's hand settled over her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he turned to address the person. He didn't falter for a second and asked for something called an "An Acadia Lager."

Taking a deep breath, Nireed attempted to match his easygoing posture.

"And for you?" The woman turned her smile on her. This one met her eye and in a way that denoted respect.

Nireed inclined her head. "The same, please."

"You got it." And then she was gone, off to fetch whatever Acadia Lagers were.

"Smooth," Reid commented, studying her thoughtfully. "For a second there, I thought the claws were going to come out, but you handled that quite well."

"What just happened?"

"She works here as a server. It's her job to come ask what we want. She gets paid to bring visitors food and drinks."

"Oh." Nireed watched with fascination as the woman approached other tables, repeating the gesture. "I see."

"I take it merfolk don't have bars and restaurants?" When she quirked an eyebrow, he rephrased the unfamiliar words for her, "Public eating and drinking establishments."

Nodding her understanding, she replied, "Not like this. We hunt together and feast together, but nothing so"—she waved a hand—"I don't know the word."

"Formal?" he offered.

"Maybe? There's no ‘serving.' Everyone just dives in."

The next time the Surface Dweller server approached their table, Nireed didn't flinch.

"Here you go," the woman said, sliding two tall glasses of amber liquid onto the table, one in front of each of them. Both were topped with sea foam. After a polite thank you from Reid, the woman replied, "Sure thing. Just let me know if you need anything else."

When Reid picked up the glass and took a sip, Nireed followed suit, curious about this Surface Dweller delicacy. As the frothy, bitter liquid hit her tongue, confusion turned to utter disgust, and she spit it right back into the cup, Surface Dweller manners be damned.

Such betrayal.

That was not sea foam.

"Don't like it?" Reid's mouth twisted with barely contained laughter.

How could a people who created something as delicious as potted meat also make and regularly imbibe this atrocity? She pushed the glass away, cringing. "That is vile."

"You know the word ‘vile' but not ‘flirt'?"

She shrugged. "I pick things up as I go."

Reid continued drinking his beverage perfectly content, much to her bafflement. "How do you know our language so well?"

The tank flashed across her mind, but she batted away the memory. While she'd learned a lot by listening to the Surface Dweller scientists beyond the glass, fueled by survival and need, that wasn't the whole of it. And certainly not the piece that deserved the most credit. "A friend taught me. She's like you but also like me. A Shorewalker."

"A Shorewalker," he repeated. "So half-human, half-merperson?"

"Half isn't quite right. There's Surface Dweller in my blood too. It's more that she lives on shore while the rest of us live in the sea. That, and she was raised human."

"How often do Surface Dwellers and merfolk get it on together? Is that a regular thing?"

While the phrasing was weird, she understood the implication. "My foreparents sometimes mated with Surface Dwellers. It's what gives us our ability to shift between forms. Our deep-sea ancestors can't do it."

Curiosity flickered in Reid's eyes. "Have you ever seen one? Do they still exist?"

"I haven't. None of us have in recent memory. But we think they're still out there somewhere, deeper than even we dare to go."

This bit of information seemed to disturb him.

"Reid?"

"Yeah, Starfish?"

Her cheeks warmed. That endearment falling from his lips was so soft and sweet. "Even if we had seen them, I'd never let one near you. The night we met, some of my kin couldn't tell the difference between you and the fishermen. And the fisherman who pushed you under…" Nireed was so used to saying exactly what she meant, but for once, she just couldn't bring herself to admit to Reid that she'd killed that man. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

Surprise rolled off his scent as her meaning sunk in. "You're the one who pulled him off me?"

"Yes."

"Did you kill him too?"

Goddess, she didn't want to answer, but she'd previously promised him nothing but honesty. "I think you already know," she said quietly.

A grim expression fell over his features. "Yeah, I guess I did. I wish you hadn't done that. The way he climbed on top of me—it happens during rescues all the time. It's nothing malicious. Just a scared man trying to keep his head above water. I've had a lot of training getting out of those situations. He didn't need to die."

"I didn't know. I truly thought he was drowning you." Not that it would've made a difference. They were hunting the hunters that night, and Nireed would never regret protecting and feeding her people, but that was probably more truth than the Coast Warrior could handle.

"I believe you." He downed his drink. When he was done, a tired expression had fallen over his features. "Thank you for being honest with me."

She wanted to say more. Something to heal the rift this topic had ripped open. Something to bring laughing, smiling Reid back, but she didn't know how to take away the sting of her honesty. Surface Dwellers were so hard to understand sometimes, asking for things they didn't truly want, but maybe there was such a thing as too much honesty and revealing this had been a mistake.

And maybe Reid was reacting more calmly than she deserved.

Turning her attention to the room around them, Nireed studied the other Surface Dwellers sharing the space. As time wore on, a few got up from their chairs to sway their arms and bodies in front of the music-makers, some in time to the beat, some not.

She observed them closely. The touching, the tension in the not touching, the meaningful eye contact, the sensual bump and grind of bodies. Happiness. Bliss. Aroused energy. It radiated from them all.

"What are they doing?"

Reid looked over his shoulder, then back at her, some of the light returning to his eyes. "Dancing."

"What's dancing? Is it a mating ritual?"

He sputtered, spraying his drink across the table. "Jesus, Starfish. You always just say the first thing that pops into your head?" Grabbing small square sheets from a box on the table, he began wiping up the mess.

"Are you always so easily embarrassed?"

"You got me there." Balling up the soaked sheets, Reid shoved them to the side. "I guess I hadn't ever thought of it that way, but yeah, sometimes it's like that."

"Bolder than I expected from your clothes-loving kin."

Amusement sparkled in his eyes. Any evidence of the dismal conversation they'd had was gone without a trace. "It's also just for fun. Wanna try?"

A funny floating sensation seized her stomach, but rather than alarm her, it made her smile. "Show me."

He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet.

Out on what Reid called "the dance floor," he placed her arms around his neck. Excitement and nerves knotted her stomach in equal measure. "Just relax." His hands fell to her hips, warm and reassuring. "Move to the music."

As he began to sway, he guided her hips in time to him and to the music pulsing in her ears, fluid like seagrass in a gentle ocean current. There was a pattern to it, a beat, and she gave herself to the push and pull, luxuriating in the weight of Reid's hands. No thinking, just moving.

Moving because it felt good, not because purpose or survival dictated it.

When her hips brushed his, a delicious thrill raced up her spine. It was a familiar sensation in an unfamiliar body, and for once Nireed was grateful for the discretion her Surface Dweller form granted. In siren form, her scales would have surely parted.

"Am I doing this right?" She sounded a little breathless, even to her own ears.

Reid's eyes darkened, rich brown swallowed by black. "Yeah." There was a harsh quality to his voice, and like his eyes, it was penetrating and all-consuming. Every nerve ending in her body alighted to that sound and silently begged for more. "You're good at this."

Delighted in the praise, she leaned in close, mouth at his ear. "If I sang right now, do you think you could resist me?"

So many senses fired off at once. His breath hitched, and his heart raced. Beneath her hands, warm skin heated, and something tantalizing spiked in his scent. Something that edged dangerously close to arousal.

Their hips brushed again, and this time, it felt less like an accident. Dancing was a language of itself, and Nireed liked how Reid's body was speaking to her.

"No, Starfish," he admitted quietly. "And I don't think I'd want to."

And yet, with a gentle push, he put a modicum of space between them, the meaning of their dance changing as inches became an ocean.