The Twice Lost (5 page)

***

“It’s
her.
”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to the video? It’s Luce, you mean?” Why did Ben Ellison’s surprise sound so phony? “But, Dorian, it’s hard to see much detail. Are you certain?” His doubt sounded phony, too.

“Yeah I’m
certain.
Why would she do that? She was always worrying, like if humans really knew the mermaids were out there they’d come after them and wipe them out.”

Even Ellison’s silence sounded wrong now. It was taut and strange, and it took him too long to reply. “Well, Dorian, I was hoping
you
would have some insight. Into what she might be trying to accomplish through this.”

“Why would I know anything? You didn’t even know that was Luce.”

“She matches your description.” This time Ellison’s response came too fast rather than too slowly. “Quite well. It did occur to me that she might be . . . your friend.”

“I bet she doesn’t think of me as a friend anymore.” Dorian heard how bitter he sounded.

“You know her very well, though, Dorian.” This time the voice on the phone had an odd touch of gentleness to it. “Of course, there’s something about this video that strikes anyone—anyone with any real knowledge of the situation—immediately.”

“It looks like she’s
hurt.
”

“It does, yes.” A pause. “But that’s not what I meant. She doesn’t sing.”

Dorian had trouble understanding where this was coming from. Of
course
Luce didn’t sing. “Why would she?”

“This is the first, the very first, publicly available evidence for the existence of mermaids. It shows a mermaid clearly stopping and looking back at a group of people. There’s no question that she’s aware of them. And then she goes peacefully on her way. No singing, no enchantment, and nobody winds up drowned.” Ellison almost sounded impatient now.

“So?”

“So if you were attempting to convince people that mermaids are simply beautiful, harmless girls—girls who just happen to have tails—then allowing this video to get out would be a very good move. In terms of public relations.”

“But I’ve told you! Luce doesn’t even
believe
in killing people! She wouldn’t . . .”
She wouldn’t even kill me,
Dorian thought glumly.
Not even when I was pushing her to do it.

“Naturally, though, she’s aware that other mermaids don’t share her ideas about the supreme value of human life.” There was something in Ellison’s voice that confused Dorian. He sounded prickly and on edge. Ellison was usually very steady, calm even when he was insulted.

“Well, sure. But there’s no
way
Luce would have sung to those people! Another mermaid would, maybe, but . . .” He was so agitated, Dorian realized, that he’d completely missed what Ellison was implying. Suddenly he understood. “You think she let them tape her on
purpose?
To convince everyone that mermaids don’t go around killing?”

“I think it’s quite clear that this was a deliberate maneuver, yes. The way she comes to the surface and looks back at the camera . . . There’s no other reasonable explanation.”

“Luce wouldn’t think like that.” Dorian couldn’t imagine that Luce would be so calculating. “She acts kind of crazy sometimes, like she’s stupid brave, but
public relations?
That’s just not what she’s like.” It sounded lame, even to him. But he felt sure. Whatever the explanation was for Luce’s behavior, it wasn’t what Ellison thought.

“People are enthralled. Simply by watching this clip.” Ellison sounded like he was complaining about it.

“I know,” Dorian snapped.

“Infatuated.”

“I
know.
” Was
that
what Steve was? Infatuated?

“And this mermaid . . . Luce . . . she knew that they would be.”

“
No.
No, she didn’t.” Dorian thought about it. “She knew her face was magic, but that just made her uncomfortable. Luce is pretty shy. It wasn’t something she ever
tried
to use.”

Something in Ellison’s silence made it clear that he didn’t believe a word Dorian was saying. “You see, Dorian? You have valuable insights to offer after all.” There was a distinct edge of sarcasm to the words.

“You think I’m full of shit, though.” Dorian was curt.

“I think you’re still trying, in whatever ways you can think of, to protect her. It’s understandable enough, given what we can see of her, but . . .”

Dorian felt even more annoyed. It sounded like Ellison thought he’d only loved Luce for her beauty and gracefulness, that he’d simply been out of his mind, addled by enchantment like all the idiots who were sitting in front of their computers now, gaping slack-jawed at that clip.
It wasn’t like that with us,
Dorian wanted to say.
I actually knew her. It’s different.
“I’m just telling you what she’s like. You don’t know anything about her.”

“I know what I can see.” Ellison gave a strained laugh. “Dorian . . .”

“Yeah?”

“How could you stand it?”

She didn’t do it for public relations,
Dorian thought.
She did it for me!
But he didn’t think he could say that to anyone.

By now, he was sure, Zoe must be staring at the same video. She’d see Luce rise, and turn, and look into her eyes.

4

The brilliant sun, the stunned human faces, the camera’s black glass eye were all fixed on her. Luce’s first impression was that everything in the world was staring straight at her; she cringed, anxiety prickling through her aching body. Swimming hurt so much that she’d surfaced to get a grip on the pain before pushing herself onward again. Then she’d stopped where she was for a second, struck motionless by a sudden insane hope. If she talked to these people on the dock, then could they somehow get a message to her father? At least let him know she was alive?

She didn’t even know where her father was now, though. And starting a conversation with strange humans would only lead to problems. The sunlight on the water was so bright that Luce’s outstretched arms appeared to be sleeved in fire. She shook her body and dived, forcing herself to move faster in spite of the pain.

They’d definitely been pointing that camera at her. Maybe she should feel guilty about that; it was an outrageous violation of the secrecy the mermaids guarded so carefully. But if the government already wanted them dead, well, maybe it was time
everyone
knew. The humans should know that mermaids were their own daughters, the girls they’d driven away.

Maybe
that
was what she should have done when she’d seen them filming her.

Explain.

Tell them the whole story.

Luce kept wearily on. After a while she remembered to sing again, disguising her voice so that it sounded almost like wind. Calling. She couldn’t go quickly at all, and she needed to rise to the surface for air much more frequently than she normally would. The day passed without her covering nearly as much distance as she thought she should have. She found a secluded beach, slept a few hours and ate a little. She didn’t want to risk passing out while she was swimming again. Then she forged on just as dawn was breaking.

Luce felt different than she had for the past few weeks, suddenly awake and aware, her pain sharply defined. The world stared back into her eyes. The coast was wilder again, and Luce began to search for caves, singing her alarm-call all the while. It looked like promising territory.

She was skimming twenty yards below the surface through a green zone thick with seaweed when she saw tiny diving shapes, still very far ahead of her, their arms stretching out as they swam. Luce wanted to hurry to greet them, but the bruises on her stomach throbbed with every flick of her tail. If only she were well, she could have been with them in moments instead of drifting sluggishly forward like this. It looked like they were ducking into a cave, one after the other. Their bodies showed jet black against the gold-green dawn shining down behind them.

A cloud passed, and the water dimmed. The figures only looked blacker than before. Luce paused where she was and watched as a mermaid eddied in place for a moment. Her tail looked too short, Luce thought. Then as Luce watched the tail spread wide, split in two, bent in a way that was much too angular, and kicked what she’d thought were fins . . . The diver vanished. Luce tried to stay calm. Most human divers were harmless, weren’t they?

At that moment mermaid song began to blast and warble through the water, strongly audible even from behind rocky walls. It didn’t begin slowly and seductively. Instead it was harsh, brittle, and panicked, coming from several throats at once. Luce felt the shock of that terrified song racing through her and lashed her tail, trying to reach them. There must be a dozen soldiers in their cave, maybe more, all armed with those guns that shot silver blades. She’d have to do her best to fight, any way she could; she’d send the water crashing against them, batter them unconscious before they could
kill
. . .

But before she’d gone a dozen yards the songs had turned into screams. Half a dozen screams, more, loud at first then fading toward silence like a loud chord struck on a piano and left to decay.

Then there were only two voices Luce could pick out. Then one. And she was still so far away, still fighting the seizing muscles of her tail, still straining as her heart smacked at her ribs.

That final screaming voice was harsh and furious, and it wouldn’t stop. Luce was getting closer now, curtains of seaweed brushing around her torso. They must have their weapons trained on that screaming mermaid, Luce thought in confusion. Why hadn’t they already shot her? Were they
torturing
her?

Luce hovered at the mouth of the cave, sick with dread. The rock bent and she couldn’t see what was going on; she huddled back into the seaweed. She was so outnumbered. If she was going to rescue the girl in there she needed to have some kind of plan; anything would be better than a crazed dash into the center of a massacre!

“You better shut
up
now! Goddamned tail. You think you can just swish your fins at us and we’ll melt? That crap doesn’t
work
on us. We know too much about you. We know what you
do.
” It was a man’s voice, buzzing and distorted by some kind of electrical mouthpiece.

The mermaid screamed again, and Luce heard a smack.

“Shut up and answer our questions like a good tail, and
maybe
we’ll let you swim out of here, okay? But we can’t hear you. You’ll have to write with this. Know how to write?”

The scream had faded to a rhythmic wheeze. At least, Luce thought, they probably weren’t hurting her now, but they’d be ready to shoot her at any second. If Luce rushed in to rescue her she’d probably only guarantee the girl’s death. If she did nothing, though . . .

“I . . . Look, I
can
write, okay? Just stop . . .”

Luce could taste the seeping blood. She could see red corruption staining the water in long slow curls.

“Stupid tail. Remember we can’t
hear
you. Look. We’re looking for one of you in particular.
This
one. You know this one? She was heading this way.”

What was the man
talking
about? One in particular? Why? Luce froze, her bewilderment darkening into dread.

“A . . . What? A
photo?
But that looks like . . .” the mermaid began. Her voice was piercing, startled.

Another
smack.
“What did I tell you about writing?”

There were a few seconds of near silence: just a faint moaning and the surge of the sea around Luce’s ears.

“You haven’t seen her? You
sure
about that? She’s called Luce. The one we’re looking for. You know Luce?”

There was another silence, this time broken by a few rough sobs. Luce had the feeling the girl had noticed the face of a murdered friend among the dead.

Had the mermaids in that cave died because these men were hunting for
her?
But why would they care about her at all? She’d thrown their boat into a cliff when those soldiers fired at her back in Alaska, of course, but . . .

How did they know her name?

“What do you mean, you’ve only heard about her? She got away from us up north, killed a few of our guys, and now she’s causing us
more
trouble. We’re not too happy about that, all right? If you help us find her . . .”

Another silence. Luce’s dread thickened, knotted like slimy ropes. Was there any chance they’d let the girl go? It didn’t seem likely. Luce started to slide into the bloody water oozing from the cave. She turned a corner and saw a crowd of black legs on a stone floor. Men stood chest-deep in crimson water.

She had one advantage, Luce realized. Only one. The same protective helmets that blocked out the mermaids’ songs . . .

“Is that a fact? You won’t help us catch
Queen
Luce? Well, then . . .”

Luce’s song was already rising, calling the water. The soldiers couldn’t hear it, of course. They didn’t notice anything as the first note soared up around them. But a few seconds later they
could
feel their legs suddenly yanked out from under them by currents like twisting snakes. Luce’s song split into several violent notes all curling in different directions, and soldiers in slick rubber suits shot through the black air, waving in space, and bashed into the walls. Coils of blood-bright water chased them, gripped them, threw them again. Their bodies collided with the corpses of the mermaids they’d killed, already back in human form. Most of the soldiers had dropped their guns, but a few still held on. Luce couldn’t stop singing then, not while they might still shoot, and in desperation she hurled her voice up the scale.

Even as they swung, shouting through the cave’s darkness, one of them had seen her. His gun was up, and he was trying to aim. Luce focused on the water gripping him until he was buffeted face-first again the ceiling. The heavy gun finally flung free, whipping into a girl’s severed arm before it tumbled down into the water.

The
living
mermaid had to be here somewhere, spinning through this chaos of crimson water and electric screams and black thrashing limbs . . .