Catch of a Lifetime (26 page)

   The poor thing was really out of breath. He must have been flying as fast as he could. But the message didn't make sense—

   "Logan? Do you mean Logan? Logan is on his boat?"

   The petrel cocked the feathers over one eye at her. "That's what I said."

   She wasn't going to argue with him. "Why does Ginger want me to know this?"

   "Ginger?" Mariana appeared beside the bird. "Ginger's involved? Gods help us."

   Angel shushed her sister while the petrel took another deep breath. "Ginger said Logan went after Michael and the shark, and she thought you'd want to know."

   Angel held up her hand to stop Mariana's inevitable question. These were
her
Humans, and she was going to be asking the questions. "Shark? What shark?"

   The storm petrel blew out a big, fishy breath. "Gods, woman, empty the water out of your ears. Ginger said that Michael went with a shark—on
a shark
were her exact words—to find you. Who the shark is, is still un known. But when Logan found out, he jumped in his boat to go after them."

   "The kid's with a shark? How in-the-sea did that hap pen?" Mariana could only hold back for so long.

   What was that shark up to? Angel had yet to meet one who had any tender feelings for the Human race—other than as a tender meal.

   And Logan knew? Great.

   And, oh gods, Michael was with a
shark.

   "Logan's going after him?" Mariana continued her in terrogation, and Angel was glad for the help because words were beyond her. "Why does this not sound good?"

   "It's not." Ah, some words weren't beyond her. The fact that Ginger didn't know the shark worried Angel as much as the fact that a shark was involved in the first place. Ginger knew
everyone, and if
she didn't know this guy, that was even more trouble.

   "Where are they?" She had to save Michael. She'd deal with everything else—Logan, her job, The Council—later. In the scheme of things, Michael's life was far more important than Logan's anger. Or her self-flagellation.

   "Heading east was all I got out of Ginger," said the petrel. "Her beak was stuffed with prawns."

   With prawns? Either Ginger had gotten into Logan's kitchen or…

   Or what? Ginger had talked to Logan?

   In the realm of possibilities, that was definitely one, because Angel would bet sand dollars to dor sals that Ginger knew exactly what had happened between her and Logan last night, right down to the humiliating scene on the beach. That bird did like her gossip. But the flamingo wouldn't speak to a Human unless she knew that he knew birds could speak—or that he'd seen a Mer. Angel could only imagine Logan's reaction.

"ARE YOU SURE THIS IS WHERE YOU FOUND HER, KID?" A.C. circled the area again, changing the angle of his head to keep the kid's stubby little legs out of his eyes. The portside eye was more than a little irritated.

   As was he. He didn't have a clue where Angel had gone, and any fish he'd tried to ask had taken one look at him—and his passenger—and had swum the other way. The little tuna-shits.

   If he didn't have this stupid hitchhiker, he'd show them about swimming away from him…

   Instead, he'd come up with another way to find her: let
her
find
him
.

   The one plus to those scaredy-fish swimming from him was that they wouldn't be able to keep their gaping mouths shut. A shark carrying a Human on his back was sure to hit the gossip pools. All he had to do was float tight and wait for her to show.

   The kid slid sideways on his back. "Yep, this is the place, but I don't see her."

   Neither did A.C. But then, he was only working with one good eye.

   He angled that eye downward.
This was where the ki
d had found her? Why? What had she been doing here? There was nothing here. Not a
guyout
, not a mound, not even a pockmark in the earth's crust to take a nap in. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

   The kid slid again, and A.C. felt one of the little digi ted appendages leave his dorsal.

   Probably trying to keep the stupid hat on his head. They'd had to stop four times to retrieve the damn thing, or the kid had started wailing.

   When they'd recovered the hat the last time and the kid calmed down, he'd explained that his mom had given it to him before she'd left him with his dad. A.C. had wanted to tell the kid that he'd leave him too if he kept acting up like that, but he hadn't wanted to add cry ing to the wailing. Besides, he only had to put up with the annoying pup for just a little longer.

   The kid grabbed hold of his fin with the other hand and tried to kick a leg onto his back, succeeding this time in damaging one of A.C.'s gills.

   The Hammer rolled his good eye, then lowered his tail to get the kid back where he belonged. Not for any thought of being nice; more so that he wouldn't end up with a dislocated fin. This Mer better be worth it.

   "Uh, Mr. Shark?" The kid tapped A.C.'s neck.

   Good thing he was sensitive to vibrations, although this kid's squirming was sorely testing his patience. "Yeah?"

   "Why is the water starting to turn in a circle like a potty?"

   A.C. didn't know what a potty was, but circling water—especially here—could only mean one thing.

   Fuck. He wasn't going to stick around to find out if he was right.

   Giving a moment's thought to flinging the kid at the whirlpool to save himself, A.C. came up with a better plan. Escape first, but if he didn't make it, the kid could be used for something more than lunch, like saving his life for real.

   "Hang on, kid." A.C. whipped his tail hard enough to do the quickest one-eighty he'd ever done—only to see every seabird within a twenty-mile radius head straight to shore.

   Nah, he wasn't pinning his hopes on a kid.

   Especially once the reprisal of the wailing started. No way were they going back for the hat. They'd never make it and the kid would be too dead to need the hat— and
not
because of him.

   A.C. whipped his tail harder, but the water began to circle faster.

   He ramped up his speed.

   The water sucked him backward.

   He strained to break free from its pull and had made it a few feet when the water changed direction and a voice he remembered all too well rose from the deep.

   "Well, well, well, A.C. Hammer."

   A.C. wasn't afraid of anything in the sea. Not Great Whites, not Bull Sharks, certainly not Hammerheads, not even Harry.

   But her? She scared the shit out of him.

   The water spun him around. There, in the middle of the vortex, with four obscenely pulsing tail flukes fan ning out, floated his worst nightmare: the Denizen of the Deep and the mother of all sea monsters.

   Ceto.

   He
would
get Michael back. There was no other option.

   The shadow of a seabird passed over the front of his boat. A seagull.

   Hmm…

   Well, why the hell not? If there were such things as mermaids and talking flamingos, why not talking seagulls? What did he have to lose?

   Logan leaned out from beneath the hardtop and hol lered, "Hey! You! Up there!"

   The bird didn't hear him. Or didn't understand him.

   "Hey! Bird! Down here!"

   A couple of boaters looked at him funny, but Logan didn't care. He wanted his son back, and if the gull could help, he'd ask. He didn't care how abnormal he sounded.

   The gull swooped out of the sky and onto the wind shield, wings still spread as it waddled up to the top and peered over, its pale eyes staring at him, beak clamped shut.

   "Can you help me?"

   The sea gull cocked its head sideways but didn't answer.

   "You
can
understand me, right? You don't speak Spanish or anything, do you?"

   The bird cocked its head the other way but still didn't say anything.

   Logan felt like an idiot. "Great. I
am
losing my mind. I'm asking a bird for help." He shook his head and ex haled. Now what?

   "That'll be
avian
to you, bub." The bird's yellow beak got a little too close to his nose, and Logan pulled back—and smiled.

   "You
can
talk."

   The bird nodded. "Yes. And how you knew that is going to be a topic of discussion at our annual symposium."

   "Look, Mr. Avian. I don't have ti—"

   "Actually, it's Mr. Gull. Taylor Gull."

   "Okay. Fine. Look, I need your help."

   "You need a lot more than my help. Try getting some manners." The gull hopped over and landed on the con sole, one webbed foot covering the compass. "So, what do you want and how did you know I speak?"

   Logan didn't care for the gull's attitude but needed his help too badly to tell him to stick a clam in it. The bird—
avian
—would probably love to do it anyway.

   He made one more turn, then they were heading for open water. "I met a mermaid named Angel and—"

   "Ah, Angel!" The gull seemed to smile—could they do that?

   Probably. They were able to do a lot humans knew nothing about. What was one more anomaly when they could think and speak?

   "How is she? Did she get that Coalition job she wanted so badly?" The gull clapped his wingtips over the top of his back—another anomaly. "Ah, but of course she did if she's letting you see her. How won derful. It's about time you Humans learned that you're not the only fishers in the sea. Mers were here long before your kind got a clue about the wheel. Beautiful creatures, Mers. And they don't eat
avians
either, though I do applaud your fellow citizens for not going after seagulls." Taylor resettled his wings and did a three-step tap dance off the compass. "So, what is it you need besides manners?"

   Logan gritted his teeth and checked their heading. Ginger had said they were going east. He adjusted the wheel accordingly. "A shark kidnapped my son and I need to find them."

   "A shark kidnapped your kid? Buddy, are you listening to yourself? Sharks aren't kidnappers. They're killers."

   Logan couldn't even comment. A
killer
. As if he didn't know.

   "So. You met Angel? I bet that's a story, huh? I mean, it's not as if you can just toss a line over and hope to catch one." Taylor brushed his beak under his wing.

   "Actually, that's how my son found her."

   One eye opened beneath the wing. "No shit?" He pulled his head out. "Wow. Talk about bad luck. So that's why she's talking to you, eh? What? Did you hold her captive? Try to sell her to science? I swear, you Humans would put the gods on display if you had your way. It's a wonder they let you inhabit the planet."

   "Look, can we examine the theology of
avians
later? My son's missing, and I'm hoping you can point me in the direction of wherever the shark"—and his son—"went."

   "Oh, is that all?"

   Taylor flipped his head onto his back, then righted it. Logan had never paid much attention to that move before he knew birds could talk, but now… it was really annoying when you were trying to hold a conversation.

   "So, can you?" Logan ground out the words, trying really hard not to lose it. Everything—his composure, his patience…

   His sanity was already gone.

   "Well, since you're a friend of Angel's, I'll see what I can do. Hang on."

   With one flap, the bird soared skyward and, in another example of what-the-hell-had-happened-to-the-world, the bird put his wing over his eyes, shielding them, yet still managed to remain aloft.

   Friend of Angel's? Logan thought about correcting him but decided against it. It was her fault this was hap pening in the first place—

   But, actually, it wasn't. It was Michael's, if Ginger was to be believed. And who knew if a flamingo would lie? Certainly not him, and he'd thought he'd seen ev erything during his days with the troupe. Showed what he knew. The ironic thing was, those days now seemed normal compared to this.

   Suddenly, in another what-the-hell-is-happening mo ment, hundreds of sea birds came barreling toward land, squawking and cawing in a massive cloud of wings and near-collisions. Taylor got lost in the throng as they flew over the
Mir-a-Mar.

   Then the gull dropped below the horde, his black tipped wings flapping insanely to keep himself horizon tal as he coasted around the back of the boat, landing on the seat behind Logan.

   "Whew! That was close."

   "What the hell's happening?"

   "Something big. I couldn't get a straight answer out of any of them, but something is going on out there, just an hour or two up ahead. I'm betting that's where your shark and your son are. If you want to save him, you're going to want to turn 'er up full throttle."

   Logan did.

   And prayed he wouldn't be too late.

Angel never swam so fast in her life, not even when try ing to outswim Harry.

   Okay, maybe equal to when she'd been trying to outswim Harry for
her
life. But now that she was swim ming for Michael's, even Mariana hadn't been able to keep up with her. She'd left her sister trying to catch her breath somewhere near Spanish Cay.