Emerge (18 page)

The air between us tightens with tension. I’m about to retort when Clay speaks up.

“Isn’t this octopus cool, Mel?” He lifts a small brown and yellow octopus from the tub in front of us. Clay’s still standing close to me, and the octopus wraps a tentacle around my arm. “Look! He likes Lia.”

“Apparently he’s not the only one,” Melusine says with a pointed look at Clay.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks. The wind picks up, and it’s chilly again. The waves roll more sharply beneath us.

“I think you and I haven’t spent enough alone time together today. Come on, let’s go to the other side of the boat.” She makes her tone sultry and adds, “There’s no one else over there.”

These words are meant just as much to bother me as to tempt Clay. But knowing what I know, instead of making me jealous, they scare me. The second Melusine gets Clay alone, she’ll siren him—I just know it.

Clay must not want to be alone with her, because he gestures to the creature that’s now suction-cupping its way up my arm. “I want to get some pictures of the octopus.”

Melusine glares first at me, then at the eight-tentacled creature. “Oh, please. It’s a common California two-spot. Any idiot would know not to waste time on it. Now come on.”

“Why do you think it’s okay to talk to me like that?”

She must be used to keeping him under her spell, because she’s taken aback by his question and disobedience. She recovers quickly and puts on a baby-faced pout as she sidles up to him.

“I’m sorry, handsome. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Just then, the boat lurches to the left, and a few students around us gasp and grab onto the railings. “I’ve just been feeling so seasick,” Melusine continues, taking advantage of the choppy water. “I think I’d feel better at the other end of the boat, but I don’t want to be alone. Please come with me?” Seasick? Melusine? Yeah, right.

Clay hesitates.

I want to beg him not to go, but I can’t give him any good reason. I shiver, and I’m not sure if it’s from the now-biting cold or my own foreboding.

“I feel so awful,” Melusine says, bringing a hand to her forehead.

“I’ll come with you.” Clay guides her toward the other end of the rocking boat, throwing me an apologetic look over his shoulder.

I’m about to follow them when one of the science teachers steps in front of me, blocking my path. “All marine life must remain in the designated area.”

It takes me a moment to realize she means the octopus now wound around my upper arm and shoulder. I start pulling him off, but he’s stuck fast to my skin and it’s not an easy task. By the time the octopus rests safely back in his tub and the teacher has rushed off to stop another student from trying to bounce a blowfish like a basketball, Melusine and Clay are out of sight.

I head toward the stern, moving as fast as I can. I walk against the salty wind, and it pushes me back, but I fight it. As I move around the other side of the ship’s cabin, Clay’s voice reaches my ears, and I duck back so I won’t be seen. Relief floods me; if he’s using that harsh a tone, she must not have sirened him yet.

“ … and you don’t seem sick now. You just wanted to get me over here and you didn’t care that I was doing something else. Why is it always about what you want?”

“Maybe letting you get this out of your system will do you some good,” Melusine says, sounding bored. I can barely hear her indifferent words over the howling wind.

“I’m serious, Mel. When was the last time we had an actual conversation? Or did something we’re both interested in?”

“You always seem interested.”

“Yeah … ” Clay sounds confused by this, but makes himself keep going. “I guess it’s partly my fault for not saying anything earlier, but everything is so clear this morning. I’m sorry, but this … us … we’re just not working out.”

“Is that what you wanted to get off that chiseled chest of yours?” she asks in a condescending voice. “You won’t feel that way in a minute. You may not love me now, but you will.”

She takes a step closer to him and sings in Mermese.

Clay’s eyes glaze over and his face, so resolute a moment before, goes slack. She’s carving him out, leaving him empty, and I can’t stand it. My insides are on fire. Fury at what she’s doing to him rises up in me, wild and hot.

“Stop!” I cry, stepping out from behind the cabin.

But she doesn’t hear me. She’s lost in her own magic. The frigid air is thick with it. The waves crash against the side of the boat. I don’t know what sound to focus on—her sickening song or my own blood rushing in my ears. I have to stop this. When I open my mouth again, it’s not a scream that comes out.

“Come, come, come to me

Let’s explore eternity.”

The words rise almost unbidden from my throat. Melusine snaps her head around to look at me, and in her moment of distraction, so does Clay.

“Lia?” His voice sounds far away.

Melusine realizes her mistake and sings again, louder. Clay sinks back into a trance, his expression dead. I do the only thing I can think of. I sing, too.

“Come, come, come to me

I want you irrevocably.

Come, come, come to me

And promise that you’ll stay.”

As my volume increases, so does Melusine’s. Our words are whipped up by the sea wind that scrapes against both our faces. The magic of our two songs crackles and clashes, ricocheting off the surrounding waves.

Clay takes a step away from her and a step back. His body sways with the movement of the boat and the push and pull of the conflicting melodies.

I keep singing, hoping against hope something in Clay will recognize his own words and be drawn to them. But Melusine’s voice is stronger.

She looks menacing now, her sapphire eyes cold and sharp, her hands balled into white fists. Her voice is confident and clear as she unleashes her ancient Mermese song, and Clay moves toward her once more. She places a hand right where Clay’s shoulder meets his neck, and her long nails dig into his skin.

Not again. She can’t do this to him again.

Her lips twist upward in a victorious smile so frightening it makes me falter. In that second of silence, I grow aware of the ever-constant call of the ocean. The sea whispers all around me, causing a memory of something I read to bubble to the surface of my consciousness:

“Siren songs drew their magic from the call of the sea that all Merfolk hear.”

I focus on the ocean’s call and the sensation of longing it creates within me.

“Come, come, come to me

Let’s explore eternity.

Come, come, come to me

I want you irrevocably.

Come, come, come to me

And promise that you’ll stay.”

I stare into Clay’s empty eyes, begging him to move toward me. His song pulses deep inside me as I sing, and I feed it the fear and need and love I have for him. With all my strength, I push my voice over the thrashing tempest.

Then he’s walking. His feet move across the wooden deck, away from Melusine. She continues to sing, but it’s as if he can no longer hear her. He takes his place beside me.

The waves and wind settle to an eerie calm. I have won.

I turn to Clay and he stares back at me, glassy-eyed.

“Clay?” I ask. But he’s silent, awaiting my command.

I have sirened him.

“This is a field trip, not karaoke night!” one of the science teachers shouts as she stomps her way toward us. Panic seizes me. This woman overheard us! I look at her—her hands on her hips, her beady eyes staring at us … why isn’t she sirened? I guess because Melusine and I directed our songs at Clay. “What are you three doing over here?” she continues, voice sharp. The lecture’s about to start. Now, march.”

She doesn’t feel like a part of my reality. So much has changed in the last few minutes, and this dowdy woman is oblivious to all of it.

The ebb and the flow of ocean magic still thrums through me. But I’m on a boat with an entire junior class of humans and I have to act normal. Clay’s still staring at me dutifully. I have to keep him acting normal, too. So, I walk in the direction of the teacher’s pointed finger, and Clay follows me step for step, all the way across the deck. Surrounded by witnesses, Melusine can do nothing but walk behind us. Her glower scorches my back.

When we stop in the throng of other students, Clay slips his warm, strong hand into mine. A thrill of excitement shoots up my spine. But then I remember: Clay isn’t holding my hand because he wants to, he’s holding my hand because the siren song—my siren song—is forcing him to. Up front, one of the crew members holds up the octopus, and even his googly gaze looks accusatory. What have I done?

On the bus ride back, Clay slides into the same bench seat I do. He still isn’t talking much unless I ask him direct questions. I must’ve asked some variation of, “Are you okay?” at least a hundred times. He just smiles and asks what he can do for me, but his eyes remain empty.

Then, I spot a sea lion on a nearby cliff. “Oh! Look out the window!” I say, trying to start up a normal conversation.

He does. And he doesn’t stop. He stares out the window long after we’ve passed the sea lion and entered the boring city streets. He looks when there’s nothing to see.

A few rows in front of us, Kelsey takes advantage of Clay’s apparent distraction and turns around to face me over the back of her blue nylon seat. She stares pointedly at Clay, then at Melusine (who sits alone on the long bench at the back of the bus), then at me before mouthing, “
OMG
!” She shoots me a huge, congratulatory grin before flipping back around. To Kelsey, this must look like a dream come true. If she only knew …

The short bus ride back to school feels like it stretches on for hours. I let Clay stare blankly out the window so I don’t have to see the vacant look in his eyes. When we finally pull into the school parking lot, I say, “Clay, we’re here.” He doesn’t react. The truth of what I have to do settles on top of me like a heavy weight. “Clay,” I try again, “you can stop looking now.”

He turns his head back toward me, “Oh. Okay.” His voice has more of a spark than it did earlier, but he still sounds out of it.

I swallow. Clay has rested his hand on my thigh. My heart speeds up, and warmth suffuses me at the feel of his solid, confident touch.

Considering that, traditionally, the only time Mer show their legs is right before they … Well, touching someone’s legs is one of the most intimate, titillating gestures you can make. His hand looks so innocent, sitting there on my leg, but I’ve never felt like this before. I doubt I could summon my tail right now if I tried.

I don’t want to move. I don’t want to breathe. I just want to feel the exquisite pressure of Clay’s hand. But when students file past our seat and out of the bus, the moment needs to end. Any second now, I’m going to move Clay’s hand and get up.

A disgusted sigh reaches my ears. Melusine walks up next to us on her way to the exit. She stares at Clay’s hand on my thigh, then pins me with a glare that says, “You’ll pay for this. It isn’t over,” as clearly as if she’d spoken the words.

I can’t waste any more time sitting here like a hormonal idiot. Clay is the victim of powerful magic. Magic I don’t understand. I need to find a way to make this right.

“Clay, we should get up now.” My voice comes out a whisper, but it may as well be the shout of a general. Clay gets up so fast, he almost bangs his head on the ceiling of the bus. With his hand gone, my leg feels cold.

“O-okay, go do whatever you want now,” I say to him once we’re off the bus. He doesn’t move, just stares at me. What am I supposed to do? “Be yourself,” I try. “Please.” My voice breaks with the intensity of my wish, but Clay doesn’t magically snap back to himself. He takes a small step closer to me and looks as lost as ever. If I … sirened him … and I want to free him, why isn’t that enough?

If I can’t end the spell myself, then I have to keep an eye on him until it wears off. It’s gotta wear off sometime like Melusine’s did, doesn’t it? School is over, but Clay’s mom might be home and I can’t risk her seeing him like this, and my house is out of the question. I gaze out across the emptying asphalt desert of the school parking lot. Where am I supposed to take him?