OVERFALLS (The Merworld Water Wars, Book 2) (5 page)

“Damn, I love your mom,” said Troy, as everyone smiled at her guts.

“If that didn’t light old Gibbs’s grill, then the poor man needs a shot of testosterone, stat,” said Manakel.

“Mrs. Valentine, I know you want to protect your daughter, but it’s imperative you keep a low profile right now,” said Doctor Tenly.

“Like hell,” said Mom coolly. “Tell me about this scroll. What will it do?”

“Benji told me all about it,” said Doctor Tenly. “Fascinatingly promising.”

“It’s not a for-sure thing, Mom, but the scroll may possibly prove—

“Hello?” shouted Doctor Tenly.

“Uh, hi,” I said, staring strangely at Doctor Tenly, who was looking at the air all around his head. “Do you want to talk about the scroll? Totally fine if you do.”

“What? When?!”

“When-what-huh?”

“Call.” Doctor Tenly rushed out of the room.

Mom looked at the doorway, pointed, and asked, “Should we be concerned?”

“Nah,” said Treeva. “He just got a call.”

“I didn’t hear a phone,” said Mom.

“It’s not really the type of call that rings a phone, so much as a noggin,” said Treeva, winking, and leaving my mom more than a little befuddled. “Marina, carry on with the scroll talk.”

“Okay, basically, the scroll is our best chance of proving that Katrina and the Zale’s were responsible for Hurricane Katrina. If we can prove that, the water pact—the thing forcing Troy to bring Normals to Zale and keeping Fairhairs under Zale’s rule—will be broken.”

“And a broken water pact means our father, King Tombolo, is free from Zale and can declare the Gulf as Fairhair-controlled waters once more,” said Treeva.

“And that’s when this war you’ve alluded to will start,” said my mom. Treeva and Troy nodded. “What if this scroll doesn’t prove anything? Then what?”

“If the scroll isn’t our blazing trident, er, smoking gun, we’re pretty sure it will at least lead us to the proof we need,” said Troy.

“Where do we start?” asked my mom, folding her arms.

I smiled at her. “Well, I reckon we need to come up with a plan to free Polly. While some of us distract the Zale’s and Ravenflame guards, the rest of us will have to go after the scroll and Polly. Benji should probably head up the scroll group. We should start brainstorming tomorrow. I figure we have until the end of the summer to design a foolproof plan in rescuing Polly and stealing that scroll.”

“Back burner the scroll and try to forget about it,” said Doctor Tenly, standing solemnly in the doorway of the room.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“Because…the Imperia is here.”

Chapter Three

Imperia by Night

Ice cold fear crept around my veins like thousands of slow-moving spiders. The Imperia—a deadly branch of government responsible for outlawing, institutionalizing, and sometimes killing the uniquely gifted—was here in Saxet Shores, Texas.

“Why is the Imperia here?” asked Mom.

Doctor Tenly hesitated to respond. When I saw him shoot me a quick, sad glance before dropping his gaze to his feet, I knew the answer.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” I said.

Doctor Tenly nodded. “Yes. Unless I’m very much mistaken, which isn’t likely, the Banishment Charter issued to us by the Imperia had one very clear, very critical provision: ‘No banished individual or relative, whether hindered with a malfunction or not, shall ever learn of the existence of Merpeople.’”

“They knew?” shouted Mom.

“Your government knows about every single
supposed
mythological creature currently in existence. Area 51 strike a chord?” said Treeva. “In many instances, they have Invisibility Agreements with each species, allowing them to live in peace, so long as they remain hidden. Other times, your government may employ creatures to achieve things, typically at night…things the mere mortal cannot.”

“Now, when it came to us,” said Doctor Tenly, sitting on the edge of his desk, “the politicos on Capitol Hill had a rare flash of brilliance. They saw the end of our war as the perfect opportunity to align with the creatures in control of the sea. And that friendly union leads to unhindered ocean shipping business, military use—”

“Let’s not forget the ever-controversial oil drilling,” said Troy.

Doctor Tenly pointed at Troy and smiled. “Ah, yes, the ever-controversial, yet exceedingly popular debate topic for campaigning bobble heads. Natural disasters still happen, of course. Merfolk can’t interfere too much with Mother Nature—cranky bitch, that one. Still, there are some tragic accidents in your nation’s history that you can find in mer-history books under the heading,
Successfully Morbid Warnings Sent to Humans
. You can see the nice little set up they’ve had with us. Fast-forward a bit, and a new breed of human emerges.”

“That’s why the Imperia had no problem declaring this town a banishment location—rid their world of the freaks and keep the sea safe for business by making Zale a happy camper. Cleanest deal the government ever made, right?” I said.

“Apart from the ethical strikes on their souls from abusing innocent humans and using them as bargaining chips,” said Manakel.

“It’s politics—no such thing as ethics,” said Troy.

“Be a nasty surprise when the political pros bypass meeting their maker and head straight for that sunny, boiling side of the street. Came damn close to that myself,” Manakel mused.

“Camille!” Mr. Gibbs caught my mom as her knees buckled beneath her.

“Think the aged root beer is wearing off,” she said, rubbing her forehead repeatedly. “Look, I know the Imperia is comprised of a bunch of bastards, but they may be the only ones powerful enough to stop Zale. If they knew about the network, those soul snatching stones, the kidnapping of Normals—”

“Absolutely not!” shouted Doctor Tenly. “Four things. First, if the Imperia invades Zale’s kingdom with their fancy little underwater toys to try and disconnect the network, they will end up killing all of those Normals…or worse—inadvertently release their souls for Zale to control. Second, if alerted to the soul snatching stones, I have no doubt the Imperia would confiscate those available and improperly store them, thereby allowing the remaining pieces to work their way to Washington, D.C. Keep in mind, so long as these stones are either underwater or in the possession of a merperson, the missing pieces have a tougher time finding one another or even communicating. The sea itself has a protective shield to these stones, thanks to Poseidon. If, however, they were brought to the mainland, they will easily find each other and puzzle together. Need I speculate on the utter destruction that could ensue? Mortals are no match for Prehendo Animus. Third, this is beyond the kind of hyped-up, paper power lauded by some branch of government, whose true calling is to cause more harm than good.”

“Plus, we just can’t freaking trust them,” I said.

“Well, yes, but that wasn’t my fourth thing. Fourth, and with all due respect, Mrs. Valentine, the Imperia isn’t anywhere near powerful enough to stop Zale. Your daughter, however, is.”

Doctor Tenly and my mom shared a long, silent communication. Once done, Mom looked at me, smiled and nodded, but in an instant, her resigned expression changed to one of ‘Oh Dear God.’

“Ophelia has been passed out this entire time. Poor girl,” she said. “She doesn’t even know about the Imperia being here.”

“Someone should wake her up,” said Meikle, grinning mischievously.

“Oh, let me!” said Doctor Tenly excitedly. “Soap scum!”

“Huh? Where?” Ophelia awoke to face a doubled-over Doctor Tenly.

“Ophelia, the Imperia is here,” he said.

“And down goes Ophelia, out like a boxer on the floor,” said Meikle, smirking.

“Never gets old,” said Doctor Tenly, laughing.

“What was that about his bedside manner, Tree?” I said.

Treeva smiled and nodded. “Maybe there are different definitions of
bedside manner
.”

While most of the room tried hard not to laugh at Ophelia’s expense, despite the seriously contagious nature of Doctor Tenly’s giggle, the doctor himself cleared tears from his eyes, straightened up, and addressed the room as though nothing amusing had happened. “The Imperia has called a mandatory meeting—tonight at the community center, sundown. All land-dwelling merfolk and Normals must attend. Take a nap, and get ready. Trey, Meikle, and Ophelia will stay with Tree in the lagoons for now.” Grabbing the vial of humpback fart Treeva used on my mom and handing it to Trey, he said, “For when you run out of unsanitary clichés to awaken Ophelia.”

“Uh, where’s my bottle?” asked Mom.

Doctor Tenly searched his coat pockets. “I don’t think I have another vial ready.”

Mom shook her head. “Not the humpback fart. The aged root beer. Think I might need that.”

Tossing a fleeting look at his hidden cabinets, Doctor Tenly simply said, “Pretty sure I’m out. Used the last on you, I believe. Need to restock my aged root beer section and, well—”

Mom sashayed to his cabinets, quickly surveyed the shelves, and found a large bottle similar to the one she downed earlier. “This says, ‘Grade A, Aged Root Beer, 10 years.’ Think we’re close?”

“Well…I…”

“Thanks,” she said, tucking the bottle under her arm. Taking Mr. Gibbs by the hand, she said, “Meet you at home, baby girl. Mr. Gibbs and I need to talk.”

“Hundred bucks says that bottle is empty and Mr. Gibbs gets lucky by the time she gets home,” said Manakel.

After saying goodbye to everyone and sharing feelings of dread about the meeting later that evening, Troy and I headed home; my eyes began closing almost the second he started the truck. Two turns of the wheel later, and my head plopped against Troy’s shoulder—I was out for one hundred counts.

*****

Nearly sundown, Imperia time
. Troy must have carried me inside, tucked me in bed, and set an alarm because some freaking loud beeping sound was drilling nails into my once blissfully sleeping brain. I yanked the sheet over my head and flailed my arm across the nightstand, trying to find the alarm. My temper quickly flared with each successive beep; finally my fist located the annoying thing. CRACK! SNAP! When I heard the once perky beeping sound sort of gurgle and die, I slowly lifted the sheet and found my alarm smashed to bits.

“Now ya decide to kick in when nobody’s around to see, eh Savior skills?”

With my head feeling slightly detached from my body, I dragged my groggy-ass-self out of bed and shuffled into the hallway. I wasn’t two inches out of my bedroom when I heard a deep groan and saw Mom emerge from her room; the teased parts of her usually perfect blond hair stuck straight up on one side, and her half-closed eyes were bloodshot and sporting some serious mascara shadows.

“Hung over on aged root beer given to me by a merman,” she said, clinging to the doorjamb.

“Savior powers made an appearance post-nap and smashed my alarm,” I said.

Mom nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “Just another day in the Valentine house. When do we have to be at the community center?”

“All Doctor Tenly said was sundown. Troy probably set my alarm for about an hour in advance, knowing it would take us at least that long to de-zombie ourselves.”

“Gonna take a lot longer than that, but at least he was pretty generous, for a guy. If he had gone with the man’s version of what constitutes enough time to get ready, I might have sent him to sleep with the sharks.” She looked at me and cocked her head. “Any water-related joke will never be the same again. Bathroom dibs?”

“Go for it. I need soda and barbeque chips before I can function,” I said, heading for the kitchen. “Mom? Are you sure you’re okay after everything you heard?”

“No, not really, but I will be.”

“How did things go with Mr. Gibbs after you left? You two all right? I really like him, Mom, and he so obviously adores you.”

“We’re okay. It was quite the conversation, though. I should have been more alert this whole time, more aware. I’ll never again walk around with my eyes wide shut.” She smiled a small, sad grin. “You know, in April, Fletcher and I were just sitting by the sea, watching the waves and holding hands. It was the first time we said we loved each other, and this amazing thing happened…”

“What happened?”

“I can’t even describe it. Out of nowhere, a huge gust of wind carrying thousands of sparkling lights circled all around the beach where we were sitting. I thought it might have been a group of lightning bugs or something. Given all I know now, maybe it was a pack of pixies. Whatever it was, it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, especially coming at such a special moment between us.” Mom gazed at the wall and ran a hand across her stomach.

Swallowing hard, I asked the one question I didn’t really want to know the answer to. “Do you really think you could be pregnant?”

Clutching her stomach, she simply said, “I’m not sure, Marina.” She stared at her belly for a moment before taking a deep breath. “We should get going. Don’t want to be late for this meeting.” With that, she effectively put an end to the topic of her maybe-pregnancy, headed into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Pregnant. My mom could be pregnant with…something. Life to her must feel like a rogue wave has toppled her steady, but tiny boat. Between today’s information overload, constant worrying about me, a possible creature pregnancy, and the Imperia awaiting us, she should be curled up in a ball in the corner of an insane asylum. Oh, wait, that would be my reaction—not my mom…never my mom.

Thirty minutes later, Mom and I staggered to the car; after ten minutes of the comic strip that was my caffeine-deprived mother trying to back the car out of the driveway, we headed for the community center.

The community center parking lot was so packed that we had to park up the street a bit. Cutting it too close for comfort, Mom and I booked it for the building; poor mom was the one suppressing gags this time. Just inside the doors, Mrs. Waterberry was anxiously handing out pamphlets and directing the stragglers.

“Hiya Mrs. Waterberry. Ready for the fun?” I said, taking the strangely colorful
Breaching the Banishment Charter: from Jail to Death & Beyond
pamphlet from her. “They put smiley faces on this thing.”