Emerge (34 page)

Now I don’t know how to find him. The salty, sea air fills my lungs, the wind whips through my hair, and the cool waves lap at my toes. I’m about to open my eyes, when I feel … something. Something so quiet I almost miss it. It’s not a strong tug like it was when Clay was under my spell. That felt frantic and mighty, like the call of the ocean itself. This is faint. A very faint drawing feeling. Before, the siren bond felt like if I took control and pulled it, I’d call Clay to me. But this is something different. This feels like I’m the one being pulled, being drawn away. Will it draw me toward Clay? Only one way to find out.

I open my eyes and look up and down the beach. It’s private, like the one behind my house, but Melusine’s neighbors are closer than mine. I don’t see anyone. Still, it’s broad daylight. It’s against Community law for me to transform in the ocean now, for me to risk exposing myself and everyone else.

But Melusine and her father have Clay. Without another thought, I dive into the frothy waves and swim out as far as my human legs can take me. Then, in a flash of golden tail, I dive deeper.

Whoa! My eyes flick everywhere at once. I’ve never been in the ocean during daylight. It’s even more startling in its beauty than our blaringly bright, flower-lined street was when I first got my legs and ventured up from the dim seclusion of the grottos.

The sunlight filters through the water, creating the richest, most brilliant colors I’ve ever seen—turquoises and aquas, chartreuses and viridians, all punctuated by magenta and electric orange. I wish I had the time to enjoy it, to play with the fish that match my set of neon highlighters. But stopping isn’t an option.

I close my eyes to the wonders surrounding me and search again for that faint drawing feeling. It’s stronger now that I’m in the water, but still nowhere near as powerful as it was just yesterday when I was still a siren. The sensation guides me forward by the thinnest of threads, and I follow it. I picture Clay at the other end of this bond, and I swim faster. Rock formations, stalks of seaweed, and brightly colored fish all blur past me as I pick up more speed. My tail beats up and down and I slice through the water. Nothing can stop me.

Until something does. I come to a complete halt at the sight before me. Its blue bioluminescence is fainter in the daylight, but there’s still no mistaking the neatly planted row of bamboo coral. The Border.

How could I have reached it so quickly? I close my eyes, and the bond urges me onward. I gulp in fear, swallowing water that flows back out through my gills. How could she?

Melusine needs to be in the ocean for whatever spell she’s casting, but it never occurred to me that she’d go
past
the Border. I know she grew up in the open ocean, but returning after she’d deserted the land Below to live Above? Going back into the warzone? It could be suicidal. What spell is worth putting herself and her father in that much danger?

I don’t know. But I know what’s worth it to me. Clay. He has to be alive, doesn’t he? I wouldn’t feel the bond otherwise. But how is he still breathing? Will he be alive by the time I reach him? I look again at the Border. Will I be able to stay alive once I swim past the very barrier built to keep me safe?

I peer into the water over my shoulder. I should go back. Surely, I should go to my parents. Bring a search team from the Foundation. I pull my body vertically, wading in indecision. Would they even believe me? I’d have to tell them about the bond, and once I did, they’d see me as a siren—a criminal and a monster—and they wouldn’t trust me. Even if they thought I was telling the truth, they might think Clay was a liability and let him die. I can’t let that happen. I have to go myself.

Caspian’s angry words from the night before replay in my head. I wish we hadn’t fought. If I don’t come back … No. I won’t think about that now. I can’t.

Just as it always does when I’m at the Border, the call of the ocean whispers to me to go deeper. Compels me to explore my true home. I stare out in front of me, beyond the Border, into what seems an endless watery mystery. Into a warzone. Into everything I’ve ever been taught to fear.

“Where you go, I go,” I whisper.

With one more hard flick of my tail, I swim over the Border.

I’m on the other side of the Border. The
other side
. I never thought I’d be here. The water, the fish, the kelp canopy—it all looks the same, but it feels different. It feels forbidden.

For the first few miles, I tell myself that nothing has really changed, that I’m still safe. But deep down I know with every sweep of my arms and swish of my tail, I’m foisting myself farther from that safety. It’s like I can suddenly feel every inch stretching behind me, separating me from home. I grow hyper-aware of the speed I’m traveling, of the sound my fin makes as it pounds through the water, of the brush of fabric against my stomach … I gasp, and my sharp inhale forces a flood of water through my gills. Fabric against my stomach! My shirt! How could I be so stupid? Tides, I’m wearing a human t-shirt. Why didn’t I think to change into a
siluess
? If anyone sees me … Out here, I’m not the sheltered little darling of the Community founders. Out here, I’m in enemy territory with a price on my head because I’m a relative of the old royal family—of the Little Mermaid herself. It doesn’t matter how distant a relative I am, it’s still grounds for public execution if I’m captured.

I fight to even out my breathing. Panic won’t do any good. I pause only long enough to untangle a sharp shard of cockle shell from the kelp. While I swim, I use it to cut off the cap sleeves and the fabric that covers my abdomen. At least the fabric is metallic. Most Mer clothing sparkles or shines with precious gems or pieces of shell, so from far away my ripped shirt will now pass for a
siluess
. But up close, it’ll look like polyester.

I’ll just have to make sure I don’t get close to anyone. With the population so decimated from the curse and the wars, I should be fine as long as I stay away from Mer settlements. Of course, the bond could be leading me straight into the ocean’s most populated village. All I can do is hope that’s not the case.

I’ll have to stay as close to the surface as I can for as long as I can. That’s the best I can do. Avoiding the occasional boat will be a small price to pay for the comfort of sunlight and the diminished risk of encountering other Mer. Having a plan soothes my nerves.

Until another pull from the bond destroys that plan. My insides lurch as the bond urges me downward. I stare at the endlessness of the water stretching below me, and I dive deeper.

And deeper.

And deeper.

I’ve never been this deep. The expanse of ocean on my side of the Border doesn’t go down this far. The water here is murkier, rich with minerals, and it takes my eyes time to adjust.

My vision sharpens just in time for me to dart out of the way. A pack of four sea horses glides in my direction, and my mouth gapes open as I gaze at the colorful, stately creatures. These aren’t the itty-bitty things I’ve held in my hands. Each of these is as big as a, well, as a horse.

They’re all so dazzlingly beautiful, it almost hurts to look at them. These are the creatures my ancestors rode across the ocean for generations. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve dreamt of seeing one, but they only live down deep. Undiscovered by humans. The stuff of legend.

One changes from light pink to deep purple as he swims in front of a towering purple rock. His companion dips its bright yellow head in my direction, inviting me to follow. Oh, how I wish I could. How I wish I could pet them and ride them into safer waters. Instead, I let the majestic animals continue past me, and I push myself forward with my fin. I glance back over my shoulder and watch them grow small with distance. Once they’re out of sight, loneliness settles over me, seeps into me.

Eventually, all traces of sunlight disappear. The water grows colder. Colder than I’ve ever felt. My skin is smoother than a human’s for added water resistance, but it’s also much thicker. So, while I’m aware of the cold, it doesn’t bother me. But if Clay’s down here and somehow still alive, he must be freezing.

The deeper I go, the more the water pushes against my arms and tail. I cycle through different strokes to keep my muscles from tiring, but at the speed I’m compelling myself to travel, it’s a losing battle.

Then I’m forced to slow down as the waters in front of me darken further, and a shiver spiders its way up my spine. For miles on either side of me, and rising so high over my head I can’t see where it stops, a forest of dense black coral blocks my path, swaying menacingly in the current. I gulp, my head snapping from side to side, searching for any way around, any way over, any way but through. The scared little girl part of me—the part I’ve been fighting since I crossed the Border, no, since I saw Clay’s empty room—that part wants to cry as another fateful yank at my center from the bond pulls me forward, dragging me straight into the thick, sharp blackness.

I grit my teeth and swim ahead, letting that blackness swallow me. Once I’m inside, I can see next to nothing. Even with my enhanced eyesight, I only make out vague shapes of what’s right in front of me. Skeletal stalks of spiny coral wind upward from the ocean floor, pressing in on me from all sides, grabbing at me like crooked, bony fingers. I have to make my way forward—there’s no other option—so I stretch my arms in front of me, feeling my way blindly as I twist my body this way and that, weaving through the stony, treacherous spikes.

Ah!
Pain sears my skin as a jagged spine of coral scrapes along my forearm.
Don’t be bleeding. Please, don’t be bleeding.
One open wound, one drop of blood, and I’ll attract every shark from miles around. Since Mer blood smells like whale or seal blood to sharks, it whets their appetites even more than human blood does. If I’m bleeding and I ever make it out of this forest, I won’t survive long enough to stop Melusine. I jerk my arm close to my body, squinting at the red welt there. I suck on it but don’t taste the telltale copper of blood.
Just a scratch.
My whole body sags in relief, sending my tail colliding into more of the knife-like coral spokes. I shrink in on myself before any can pierce my scales, not daring to twitch another muscle.

What am I going to do? The outlines of the coral skeletons that trap me appear more sinister than ever. Monstrous.

Any move I make will risk injury, blood I can’t dare spill. But I can’t just stay here paralyzed forever.

Do it for Clay. Get to Clay.

I repeat the words to myself as I reach my arms back out, give my tail the smallest of flutters, and inch my way onward. In the silence, a quiet but constant crunching meets my ears, alerting me to the hundreds of sea creatures that lurk in this forest, feeding on whatever they’ve managed to sink their teeth into today. I’m surrounded.

Now that I’ve focused on it, the sound magnifies, making me that much more desperate to escape. With strokes even slower and more calculated than before, I weave my way over and under, beneath and between. When blessed blue peeks through the black up ahead, I want to weep with joy. It’s the first sign I might actually make it out of this hellish darkness. I arch my back and extend my tail all the way as I writhe through a tight gap in the coral toward that promise of blue openness. I’m going to make it, I’m—

I suck water through my teeth as I’m yanked backward. A glance down at my fin makes me want to curse; it’s caught between two of the spiny, black branches. Wincing, I twist around to examine it, and my hip jostles another large stalk.

A pair of glowing, yellow eyes pierce the darkness.

They blink open right behind me and send my heartbeat skittering. Images of a medieval sea serpent or a giant squid that could squeeze the life from me plague my imagination. I twitch my tail back and forth, frantic to get free. Those yellow eyes inch closer to me, and all of a sudden, I’m panting, nearly hyperventilating as my gills flap faster and faster. It takes all my willpower not to just rip my fin free. I tell myself those glowing, terrifying eyes belong to something harmless, a manta ray maybe or a large crab, and force myself with all my might to believe it. Without making any sudden movements, and being careful to only touch the coral where it isn’t sharp, I pull back one of the branches at the same time that I curl the now-bruised left point of my tail inward.

It works! With my tail free, I glance back at those eyes, growing ever closer. Belonging to I-don’t-want-to-know-what. A resounding
snap!
makes me jump, heart clanking against my ribs now. Teeth? Could it be massive, snapping teeth?

I’m halfway through the gap; if I can just make it out … My body undulates through the barbed branches that jut out at every angle. With one last powerful thrust of my tail, I propel myself forward.

A loud thrashing and grinding behind me tell me whatever was following me is stuck in the sharp coral barbs.

Free at last from the forest’s clutches, I surge forward without looking back, emerging into the freedom of open ocean. I’m about to let the relief wash over me when I look down at the most devastating sight I’ve ever seen.