Into the Deep (6 page)

Chapter Nine

The currents that once cradled me with welcoming arms have darkened, either from the night sky above or my tortured imagination. My entire body continues to twitch with the aftereffects of the eels’ electric shocks. Vulnerability settles in and I grit through the pain, desperate to reach dry, safe land.

Sea life all over the planet has reacted differently to the changing weather. This could be similar…a reaction causing them to strike out against whatever was closest. To me, it’s flagrant sign I should not be here.

Without another word to Kona, who’s chasing off the stragglers, I break for the shore. My movements are jerky, uncoordinated, but I safely reach the rock I used to lower myself in.

“Zoey!” Kona calls after me.

I pause, grateful that I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him. “Thank you,” I whisper, scanning for a new threat, certain it’s out there.

“I couldn’t let the daughter of my king die.” He retains a vigilant stance and I notice the red welts covering his skin. “But you’re not safe, not anymore. They are servants of the merwitch. If she sent them, she knows who you are. If she didn’t, and it was an accident, she will very soon. They will report to her.”

His statement sends me freefalling into a deep pit of confusion and questions. “What’s a merwitch? How are they her servants? What does she want with me?”

He must detect my distress because he brushes against me gently. I accept his offer of comfort and rest a hand on his back, hoping I can concentrate on his answer. I have no control over my muscles.

“It is hard to say, so much is rumor. Calandra plans to rule all the oceans herself. The Pacific kingdom is a great prize and she’s already killed the royal families in other oceans. She hates humans. Many believe she is causing the storms. The creatures that attacked you were branded.”

I struggle to dislodge some of the murkiness, but I zero in on the underlying meaning. “She wants to hurt me because of Stavros?”

“You don’t know the rules of the mer. You are firstborn and important.”

Panic grows inside me. This is stuff I don’t really need to hear, not anymore. None of it matters because I don’t belong here. Those vile eels showed me that. Forcing myself to accept the lie, I turn to lift out of the water. Witches and firstborns, none of it seems real.

“Don’t let this beat you, Zoey. I’ll be here if you come back, I promise!”

It takes a few tries until I’m able to hoist my heavy tail out of the water and onto the rock. In the second before I change, it strikes me how awkward the limb is out of water.

Taking huge, gulping breaths of air, I pray for calmness and for the bone wracking trembles to cease. Cold, damp rain pounds me as I survey the damage, sending my stump an anguished glare. My skin is red where the eels were attached and the muscles in my extremities scream in agony. The left side of my face throbs where Kona smacked it. Vaguely, I wonder if I’ll have a black eye as I throw on my clothes, searching for the crutches.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I mutter to the empty space.

Kona rises out of the agitated water about midway. Between the storm and the incoming tide, it’s becoming rougher out there. He chatters excitedly at me, but in this form his words are foreign.

“Don’t worry, Kona. I’m fine. Thank you, for what you did. I’ll never forget it. I-I can’t say for sure if I’ll return.”

He doesn’t speak again, but he keeps one of his intelligent eyes on me as I struggle to finish dressing. When I turn to leave, he’s still watching. I wish I could say more, promise I’ll see him again, but my throat is clogged with emotion. Suddenly, I want to be as far from the ocean as I can.

The bus ride home I shiver in my wet clothes, ignoring the curious peeks at the empty, knotted pant leg of my sweats. Between the dying twitches and bedraggled appearance, I probably look like a runaway or a drug addict, especially at this late hour.

I’m angry at myself for believing I could enter that strange, alluring world and there not be any repercussions. If the dolphin hadn’t been there, I would have died. I’ve barely been a mermaid for twenty-four hours. It obviously doesn’t mean I am capable of hopping in the water and it automatically being magical or welcoming.

At this point, I don’t care if I ever step foot in the ocean again. I’ll apply to colleges in the Midwest where I won’t have to worry about crazy myths or have the temptation to turn into a mermaid. I’ll accept that the wonderful body I had in the water is out of reach. I realize it’s extreme and I shouldn’t let one negative experience keep me from the world my father lives in, but fear won’t let go.

My father, that’s what it boils down to. I want to feel closer to him. I wipe a stray tear as my thoughts fall to what Kona said. If it’s true, he is in danger. He may be gone before I ever have a chance to daydream about him. If the merwitch stalking him has the power to affect the weather of an entire planet, what chance does he have? What chance do any of us have?

I return home, but can’t sleep and not because the rain is hammering against the window with renewed ferocity. The image in the mirror disturbs me. My hair is a frizzy mess and the reflection stares back dull with shock. My jaw and left cheek is red, swollen, but luckily it doesn’t reach as high as the eye. My gaze drops to my neck and the irritated skin there.

I owe Kona my life.

The terror from earlier lingers, as well as how it felt until the eels came. The thrill of gliding through the water, my powerful tail propelling me forward, and all the amazing sights and sounds. Maybe one day, far into the future, I will find courage and take a crack at it again. I miss my colorful fins. If only there was someone to help me learn about this new part of me, but I can’t exactly call up my father or grandmother and ask them. They apparently have a fight coming. I’ll only be in the way.

Chapter Ten

School Monday is a blur.

I ache all over from the attack and my red, swollen neck has to be hidden behind a trendy scarf. It’s a full-time job to not wince or cry out in pain. Not to mention, it was my second sleepless night chased by terror filled dreams and my artificial leg feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

I keep the incident with the eels and Kona from Charlotte. For some reason, I consider last night a failed mission, one I won’t share with anyone. Revealing how badly I wanted to dive into the ocean is only going to remind me, tempt me. So I only repeat the fantasy story Mom told.

“Wow, I can’t believe your mom hooked up with a mermaid,” she says in wonder as we sit under a tree during lunch. “If I hadn’t actually seen you change, I’d suggest she was crazy. And she was out there searching for him when you had your accident. No wonder she’s so guilty and protective.”

My friend treats me the same, which is a relief. I knew I could count on her and it puts some of my fears to rest. But I’ve changed. All day the lights have been too bright, the sounds too harsh. I can’t help comparing it to the place I’ll never return. This dry existence doesn’t fit anymore. I’m a stranger to it.

I sip my iced tea before answering Charlotte, staying on topic. “I’ve always wondered why she doesn’t date. Now I know. I just wish she wouldn’t have kept it from me.”

“She was protecting you.” She pats my foot. “Besides, it’s not a simple thing to blurt out.”

“Logically, I understand that, but it’s a little different than informing me my dad is a movie star or a senator. It’s about me not being fully human anymore. It’s a big deal.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

I study her with a scowl. “What do you mean?

“Will you be a mermaid on the weekends? Don’t you want to experience this part of you?”

“I decided to check out colleges in Kansas and Colorado,” I joke half-heartedly.

“That’s the cowardly way out,” she states.

“Until you’ve spent time in my shoes, you can’t judge.” I bite out, annoyed at her cavalier attitude.

“I’m not trying to be mean. All I’m saying is you can’t walk away from this without each piece of the puzzle. What if your dad’s out there? Don’t you want to meet him?” She bit her lip. “You’re beautiful, exactly as you are, Zoey, but seeing you in that form stunned me. That is who you are supposed to be. I’m sure of it.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “It terrifies me.”

“You should at least do some research. If you know more, it might solve the problem and convince you to change again.”

The genuine concern lighting up her expression causes me to hesitate. I want it. I hate the idea of turning my back completely on the ocean, even after what happened. It’s my heritage. But when I imagine being a mermaid, anxiety squeezes me by the throat, same as that eel did. It’s a deeper fear than I had in just being afraid of the water and sharks.

I can’t answer her because I’m not sure which response will pop out, so I steer away from that landmine.

“I’m glad you aren’t treating me like a science experiment.”

She grins, flashing a dimple. “You’re my best friend, Zo. That hasn’t changed. The fact I think your secret is cool reflects more on my state of mind than yours. I’m happy you’re still here. High school would not be the same without you.”

A laugh escapes. “Likewise. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

As I say it, though, I realize it isn’t a hundred percent honest.

I survive the day, barely. When I get home a headache is blossoming. My brain won’t shut off and it’s exhausting. On top of that, my body hurts. It yearns to change. I’m not certain how I know, but it’s there, this incessant desire to throw myself in the ocean.

When Mom and I aren’t ignoring each other, she tells me how frightened she was the past few years. The more she explains, the more I understand what she did, but the hurt doesn’t fade. Finding out about my dad, and this other part of me, could be the best way to move past her betrayal.

By Wednesday, I’m itching to go again. Avoiding the whole mermaid issue is driving me insane, morphing me into a crazy girl. If I can’t get in the water, then most of my problems are solved. On the other hand, if I
can
summon up the courage to venture in, I’ll be able to stop with the what-ifs. At the very least I have to say goodbye—to the ocean, to Kona, to that existence I could have had.

With yet another lie to Mom, I shout I’ll be studying at Charlotte’s as I run out the door. I hate not being honest with her, but she’ll only stop me.

Again, I choose Mission Park and pick my way to the same rock I used last time. Tonight, the rain isn’t coming down in sheets. It’s more of a mist. I stand at the very edge of the rock and stare out at the water. An entire strange world stretches out in front of me, hugging each horizon and calling to me with a song of hope, of discovery.

A slow burn begins in my gut, spreading out to my limbs. My body wants this, desires it. It’s been telling me all week, yelling at me. But the same body is shaking like a leaf, afraid of what waits for me in the murky depths.

Defeated, I sink down to the rigid stone, a safe distance from the churning waves, and tuck my good leg under me. I ignore the yearning and make an effort to quell the fear. I should probably give it time and wait to recover from the horrible incident.

I hug my chest, catching no signs of the dolphin. The temperature isn’t freezing, but I’m soaked. It’s odd how one form of water can be so miserable and the other so welcoming. Bringing my crutches would have tipped Mom off that something was up, so I am resigned to the fact I’ll be wet and unable to fit my prosthetic to the stump later, either from the rain or an excursion into the sea.

My gaze is focused on the dark horizon, out there somewhere beyond what I can see, but I hear my name on the breeze.

“Zoey.”

Sitting forward, I scan the waves in front of me. Off to my right, a head bobs in the water, white hair fanning out around her. A mermaid. Her orange and yellow tail glows below the surface. She’s beautiful. Smooth, unlined scales, pebbled and textured in a rich gold color accent her skin, which is a little darker than mine. It’s impossible to guess her age.

A smile lifts her bow-shaped lips. “Hello, Zoey.”

I’m too shocked to answer. My mouth opens and closes, not letting any sound out. This can’t be the witch, not this gorgeous creature. I manage to clear my throat and squeak, “Who are you?”

Her lips stretch wider. “I’m Galina. Your grandmother.”