Making Waves (5 page)

He swam below her, the flick of his tail
keeping him buoyant. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Angel made up her mind. There was one thing
about being a Mer that could get her out of this predicament, if
she had the guts to try.

Not that she had much choice. If she didn’t,
her guts were going to be Harry’s. Or some Human scientist’s.

She swam toward the boat, being careful not
to jostle the line with her tail. Let the Humans think she’d gotten
off the hook. It was part of the plan, anyway.

Now she just needed the time, luck, and
courage—and the ability to breathe air—to make this work.

***

“Do you think I caught a mermaid?” Mike
jumped up and down while Logan reeled in the line. They’d caught
something big, but it seemed to have slipped off.

One more disappointment for his son. Logan
didn’t know how many more the kid could take. Having gone down that
route himself, he didn’t want to find out.

“I don’t know, Mike. Let’s see. You want to
bring it in?” He passed the rod he’d taken when the fish had almost
pulled a happily squealing six-year-old-to-be off the stern.

With clumsy fingers, Mike reeled in the line,
a few slips here and there, all the nervous energy in his tiny body
making him dance on the deck like a prizefighter before a bout.

“If it is a mermaid, can I keep her?”

Who could deny all that unadulterated hope
shining from those eyes? Certainly not Logan, especially when he’d
already dashed the kid’s hopes of Santa and a giant, candy-toting
rodent. “Sure, Mike, if it’s a mermaid you can keep her. But if
it’s anything endangered, we have to throw it back, okay?”

“Okay, Logan.”

Logan
. Well, it was probably too much
to expect a
Dad
just yet. But hopefully, someday.

Logan sat back in the deck chair, watching the
miniature replica of himself diligently wind the line onto the
reel. He’d always wanted kids. Nice, normal kids he could raise in
a nice, normal home, free of pancake makeup, sawdust, trapezes, and
the ever-present caravan.

He swiped a hand across his face. It figured
he’d hook up with a flake, though Krista had seemed normal at the
beginning. She’d been the receptionist at the gym he belonged to,
wore sensible clothes and shoes, kept her hair in a normal
style—and a normal color.

Unlike his family, the traveling circus
performers. He almost laughed. He’d grown up with carnies. Carnies
and conmen. Shysters. No, not all carnies were like that. Just his
particular troupe.

Troupe. They’d never even called themselves a
family. Sure, Goran and Nadia, his “parents,” had taken in the
runaways, and even the runaways’ babies like him, but over the
years, Logan had realized they’d only done so to get workers for
their shows. He’d been one master prestidigitator until he’d
realized “Dad” wasn’t returning the money he’d palmed. Fifteen
years old and he’d had more of a conscience than the adults.

He’d run away then. Run
away
from the
circus. How ironic was that? Gotten himself declared an emancipated
minor and worked his way through school, trusting no one but
himself, vowing he’d have normalcy in his life.

And he had. He’d worked his way up to partner
in an investment firm—life experiences providing as much of that
education as college courses—judicious spending practices, friends,
vacations, retirement accounts… He’d only needed a wife to complete
his vision of the perfect life.

Enter Krista. They’d been on the right track
for a few months, but then she’d broken out the incense and love
beads, talked about joining a commune to practice her performance
art, and he’d been plunged right back into that insane spiral
again.

He’d gotten out cleanly.

Or so he’d thought.

And now here was Michael. Logan was going to
give the kid as much Normal as was in his power.

“I think it got away.” The sad voice came
with a repeat of droopy puppy-dog eyes blinking under the rim of
the baseball hat.

“They do that sometimes, sport.” Not that it
made it any easier. “Here, let’s bring in the hook and we can try
again.”

Mike sniffed. “No. I don’t wanna. Can we get
something to eat?”

Logan hid his smile. Oreos and milk, just the
thing to perk a kid up. He made sure he’d brought enough on board
for their afternoon trip.

“Sure, Mike. Let’s go inside and see what we
have.”

***

Angel drifted beneath the boat, bent at the
waist, trying to get the hook out. It was nasty looking and hurt
like a son-of-a-Mer, but she had to get it out.

If she didn’t pass out from the pain
first.

This one was bigger than the hook she’d
experienced in the Mer survival course she’d taken in school.
Humans were torturers to use these things. Angel had a whole new
appreciation for the scars she saw on the backs of whales and
dolphins.

She gritted her teeth and wiggled the hook
some more. It slid backwards through her tail. Good—except that
barbed tip was going to hurt.

Being discovered would hurt more.

Gripping the steel with both hands, baring
her teeth and closing her eyes against the pain, Angel maneuvered
the hook backwards.

Gods, it hurt. Blood made the hook slippery,
but she wasn’t going to stop.

“You do know I’m going to eat you if you
don’t get caught, right?” Harry chuckled.

“I still have the hook, Harry. Come near me
and it’ll be you on the end of their line.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. You have to get
it out first. That barb is a killer.” He did the shark
impersonation of crossing arms with his pectoral fins.

Angel wiped her palms against her tail before
grabbing the hook again. She exhaled, then took a deep breath.

A few twists, a lot of blood and more pain
than she thought she could endure… But the hook slid free.

And Harry slid closer.

“Don’t even think about it, Harry.” She
brandished the hook menacingly.

Harry shrugged his dorsal fin. “Fine. I’ll
wait. Once they pull that up, you’re mine.”

Angel looked toward the surface. The sky was
darkening. It wouldn’t have any effect underwater since Harry had
night-vision, as did most sea beings, but abovewater was a whole
other kettle of fish—and Harry was useless abovewater.

That sealed the deal. Abovewater, it was.

-3-

“You’re a mermaid.”

The Human voice whispered across the deck to
where Angel was trying to wedge herself between the side of the
boat and a box. Obviously she hadn’t done a good enough job to hide
herself from the child.

“Yes, I am.” Now what was she going to do?
She looked at the door she’d climbed through from the swim
platform. Closed. She’d have to go over the edge—right into Harry’s
waiting jaws, if she knew the shark.

Unfortunately, she did.

“Cool. Logan said you didn’t exist.” The
little boy came closer, his brown eyes wide with wonder. So
different from the adults who usually screamed. Ah, the innocence
of youth—just as she’d proposed in her thesis.

Better than being proven right, she could use
that innocence right now. “Who’s Logan?”

“My, um… my dad.” The little boy shuffled his
feet and glanced down at them, then adjusted his hat and looked
back at her almost defiantly.

“Well, adults don’t like to think we exist.
Makes them think they aren’t the boss, you know?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “I know. I always
have to do what they tell me.”

“I would, too, if they knew about me. So, can
we keep me a secret?” Maybe it wasn’t fair to do this to a kid, but
when it came to her life or a child’s sense of justice, she was
going with her life.

“Okay, but he’s going to see you when he
comes out. He’s cleaning up the dishes. We had Oreos and milk.”

“Great. That sounds yummy.” Whatever an oreo
was. “Look, there’s a hungry shark waiting for me in the water so I
was wondering if there’s any place for me to hide on this boat?”
She’d checked out the deck as she’d hoisted herself through the
door, hoping for a tarp, but no such luck. Not that it had mattered
with Harry closing in. She’d made the only decision she could under
the circumstances.

She just hoped she wasn’t going to have to
explain those circumstances to her brother.

Actually, she hoped she
did
get the
opportunity to explain them to her brother. She wasn’t exactly full
of options right now.

“I know!” The boy spun around on the deck,
keeping his hat in place with one hand. “Logan showed me a
trap-door here. You can fit.” The kid ran across the deck and
opened the hatch.

With a glance around for this Logan person,
Angel followed the boy, the slick deck making it easy for her to
slide. She looked inside. A tiny amount of seawater sloshed in a
tub that was a little longer than her tail, with just enough room
for her to sit in doubled over. Oh well. Mers who were outrunning
death couldn’t be choosy.

“Are you sure he’s not going to look in
here?”

The little kid slicked a hand over her tail
and she tried to stop a shudder. She’d never had a Human stroke her
tail before. Her sisters-in-law had her brothers to stroke if they
so chose—and considering the way they were popping out kids, there
was quite a bit of stroking going on.

“Nah. He was going to put some fish in it,
but we didn’t catch any. I had something big on my line, but it got
away—hey, was that you?”

“Yes, it was, actually.” She slid past him
and into the cavity, bracing her weight on her arms as her tail
filled the bottom. Tight, but it would do. “And it really hurt. You
wouldn’t like a big hook in your leg, would you?”

The child blinked and Angel’s conscience
twinged. It wasn’t his fault his race were a bunch of
barbarians.

How laughable it was that she was thinking
this way. She’d become a Humanologist with the intent to study—and
maybe even live harmoniously with—these beings, not avoid them. Now
look at her.

But in all fairness, having a hook slice
through one’s body did tend to change one’s opinion of the
race.

“Are you going to die?” The child’s voice got
very low and kind of garbled, as if seawater had gone down the
wrong pipe.

She smiled up at him, trying to turn her tail
to the side so he wouldn’t see the damage the hook had done. “No,
but I did leave some blood on the deck. Maybe you could wipe it up
so your dad doesn’t see it? And if you have a blanket, that’d be
great, too.” Not that she was cold, but if she couldn’t get off the
boat in Mer form, she’d have to try one of the two others she could
assume—and dolphin wasn’t exactly the best choice.

“I can do that. But I’ll have to sneak the
blanket out later so Logan doesn’t ask why.”

Pretty resourceful kid. And pretty deceptive.
And here she was contributing to the delinquency of a minor.

Well, it couldn’t be helped. Survival came
before honor. And with Harry staking out the boat, she didn’t have
much choice.

“That’s fine. Just don’t let him know I’m
here, okay? Our secret?”

The kid’s eyes lit up as the corners of his
mouth surged upward. “It’s a deal.” He reached out his hand.

Angel shook it. “Thanks, um… What’s your
name?”

“Mike. Michael. Hardington. I’m six. Well,
tomorrow I am.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael. I’m Angel. Angel
Tritone and I’m a lot older than six.”

“Mike? Where are you?” A man’s voice came
from a sliding panel on the bridge.

“Out here,” Michael answered, stepping back
from the compartment and setting the door down easily.

Angel heard him shuffling his feet over the
deck, cleaning up her blood trail.

“Remember, Michael,” Angel said, raising the
lid an inch. “You can’t tell him I’m here.”

“He wouldn’t believe me anyway. Logan doesn’t
believe in mermaids.”

He would if he got a look at her as she was
now. Here’s hoping Michael could keep her secret until she got off
this boat.

“Hey, guess what, Mike?”

Before she shut the lid, Angel got a glimpse
of a tall Human descending the steps. A tall, very good-looking
Human.

Amazing what her mind retained from that
quick glimpse. The last of the sun’s rays, hanging barely above the
horizon, had crossed his face, highlighting chiseled cheekbones and
deep brown eyes just like Michael’s, strong jaw, corded neck and
broad shoulders—

“What?” Michael’s weight
thunked
above
her head. That was one way to ensure Logan wouldn’t find her.

“I think I saw a hammerhead shark from the
bridge. Want to try to catch it?”

Logan’s voice was husky, a bit rough around
the edges as if he’d chewed on coral. She was so used to the
softening effect seawater had on Mer voices that his clear one
swept over her in a way not unlike Michael’s touch—but with
entirely different results. She didn’t shudder this time; she
shivered.

“Nah, that’s okay. Can we go back?” Michael’s
voice weakened and the lid creaked when he removed his weight from
it.

Angel listened to his footsteps heading
toward the steps up to the bridge. Smart boy.

“Back? To shore?” Logan’s voice softened as
he followed Michael.

“Yeah.”

“Mike, we can probably catch something else.
Not everyone brings in what they hook the first time. We have some
time yet before we need to head in.”

That panel slid again. “No, I don’t want to.
I just wanna go home. I wanna see Rocky, and my tummy doesn’t feel
right.”

Logan’s sigh sifted through the lid of
Angel’s hiding spot. She didn’t have to see Logan’s face to know he
was exasperated. Or frustrated. That sigh said it all. Apparently
children’s characteristics were universal no matter the race.

“Okay, sport, we’ll head in. but I’ll tell
you what. We can come out tomorrow to celebrate your birthday.
How’s that sound?”