Everlost (23 page)

“What the—?” Grommet said, dumbfounded.

“I knew it.” Jacob entered the now entirely flooded room.

A wooden trapdoor on the floor flipped open, dislodging a rug and revealing another porthole exit.

“Go,” Jacob said, with a firm point. “Find Sandy. Tell her what’s happened and that we need ink and lots of it, then go to Tatiana’s house. It’s the last one on Percophidae Lane. Tell her to pack her things. I’m coming.”

Grommet’s spine stiffened. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I’m not going without Nicole.”

Jacob blinked at him, speechless.

“I know what you’re going to say, but…”—Grommet clenched his fists on the hilt of his blade. “We hit it off and—” At another siren, Grommet palmed his hair. “I have to go find her!”

Before Jacob could argue, Grommet swam down through Xirene’s private porthole and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jacob stared at the empty porthole, confused. Nicole? The noises in the hall cleared his focus. He needed to get to the dungeon and the fastest way was through the shark-tank. He kicked his tail and returned to the guest room. With his scythe, he busted out the rocks once again. Tatiana’s flowery scent hit his nose. Panicked, he shot a look off across the tank to look for her. Not a shark or Tatiana was in sight.

Quickly, he replaced the bricks and swam below to the backside of the dungeon. In the wall, a huge hole had been knocked clean. Inside, fear surrounded him and through the red haze he looked at the cells.

“Jax?” Jacob whispered, swimming to the first cage. Another siren gripped him, and he hoped Nicole and Grommet were escaping. “Jax, are you in here?”

Grunts and weapons clashing against one another echoed from inside the compound. Feeling along the bars, he moved parallel to the floor. Fleshy bits of something grazed his hand and Jacob pulled away as a severed arm bobbed by in the current.

He knocked it away and pressed his body to the floor, wishing he would have stolen Darrellon’s black robe to better conceal himself, when it hit him. He wore a rebel robe, not that of a Dradux. Were they there to look like rebels?

With his fingers, he inched his body to the doorway for a better look. Through the veil of the blood, he could barely make out a figure. When they turned, he pressed himself to the floor, accidentally knocking his tail against the opened door.

“What’s that?” a male voice asked. “Go check it out.”

The water swished around his head and Jacob held his breath. A barb nicked him in the back and he stifled a groan. Pain seized him like a cramp.

“What the—?” someone above him said.

Jacob lay still and played dead. A laugh mocked him as another painful zap hit him in the side. This time Jacob couldn’t subdue his reaction. He whipped his tail, propelling his body upward. He poised his scythe, challenging his attacker to try stinging him again.

Through the red vapor, Blanchard’s smile came into view. He, too, was dressed in the black robes of a rebel, but Jacob knew he wasn’t one. Blanchard pointed his scythe at Jacob while eyeing his weapon.

“Jacob,” he said evilly. “Alive, I see.”

“I should say the same of you, rebel.”

“Yes, I guess I am.” He quirked his head. “Where’s your girl?”

My girl?
At the irony, Jacob had to laugh. “Far from here, I hope.”

“Or maybe not,” Blanchard cocked his brow as another siren hit the waters, he then nodded, his eyes darting to a place behind Jacob.

Jacob charged, ready to slice open Blanchard’s throat if he didn’t tell him where Tatiana was when heat speared Jacob’s back. He coughed, clutching his chest, and looked down at the red gushing in billowing bursts around shiny metal tinted in green, protruding out of his chest. Laughter filled the water as Chauncey came into view. Then two Chauncey’s danced in a circle following a third, like a figure eight, before everything went to black.

25

: : :

Tricked

Anxious to get Jacob help, Tatiana darted off toward the palace, then she slowed. If the attackers weren’t rebels as Jacob claimed, then who were they? Was the palace under attack, too?

Azor’s scent hit her nose and she halted. He’d been there, moments ago. She scanned the horizon and neighboring houses for him, tempted to at least call out a warning. Why didn’t he come home first after visiting Tahoe?

A group of mermen in black hoods appeared to her left. She ducked down, still sniffing the current. Her cape’s stink, though, quickly covered everyone’s trail. Others had swum by too; their scent thick like oysters. Her heart pounded as she pressed herself against the wall. Though dressed in black, they held scythes, which struck her as odd. A violent weapon, they had only one purpose: to chop off the assailant’s head, and she hadn’t remembered the rebels using them during her father’s ambush.

With the oyster scent, the scythes and dark hoods, everything clicked and her heart galloped at the realization. Were the Dradux appearing as rebels so Azor would have another infraction to add to their growing list of crimes? “No,” she whispered as fear coursed through her. If they caught her, they surely would want to kill her to make it all the worse.

With a kick of her fin, she high tailed it home. Through the porthole, she surfaced like she’d crossed home plate and phased into legs. Still in a fit of panic, she eyed the couch, tempted to move it over the entrance. But upon scanning the interior, she noted garlic lingering in the air. A tiny blue blanket lay on the couch next to a white oval pillow with decorative bows on the edges. The loveseat had been moved to the other side of the room as well. All things she hadn’t done.

“Hello?” she called feebly. She dropped her cape to look for a weapon to protect herself.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she pulled a knife from the chopping block, noting a bowl of fresh fruit, assorted greens, and pastries she’d only seen served on the fancy tables at the palace lay strewn on the countertop.

“Azor?”

She hadn’t smelled his scent at the entrance, or anyone’s scent when entering her home. Who would come here to find shelter? Move in? Yes, her parents weren’t coming back, but trespassing was unheard of in Natatoria. This was still her family’s house.

“Jacob?”

At the silence, she tiptoed down the hall, looking inside each doorway, blade pointed outward. The blood pulsed heavily down her shaking arms, making the knife wobbly. She wished for the sense of smell in the air, so she could know if she truly were alone.

“I’m armed! Show yourself!”

Again nothing. Not a noise, not a scratch. She spied her room, then her brother’s, finishing at her parents’. Clothing lay on the floor, but no intruder. A relieved breath slipped from her lips, and she lowered the blade.

Her mother’s soft white robe, or at least what was left of it, lay on the floor next to a skirt missing half its ribbons. Had the intruder stolen the fabric to make the pillow?
What nerve!

Tatiana grabbed the items, evidence of the intrusion, and marched to the kitchen for a second investigation of the food. Her heart stopped when she spied her mother’s waterproof bag.

Scattered onto the tabletop were her clothes, books, paints, and her diary opened to the last entry she’d written, in English of course.

Dear Diary,

I hate Azor so much. The way he keeps watching me, like all he wants to do is mate with me. I’m not even a person to him. Just an object. And the fanfare when he arrives. Holy Crawfish. It’s disgusting and the mermaids have no tact. They beg for his attention with their fancy tattoos, revealing tops, and beaded hair, just to be ignored. I bet they’d bare their boobs to him in an instant, if he asked. Rumor has it the servants do that already for him. Makes me want to vomit.

And then it’s “you’re so lucky, Tatchi,” “I wish he’d promise to me,” and “has he asked you?” It’s like I’m already his. Sea serpents. Who would want him? To think of his icky, sticky, vile, licky, fish lips on mine or worse—his hands! UGH! Tahoe! Take me away. I miss Ash so much. The sun. The air. The beach. What I wouldn’t do for a soy latte at Starbucks right now.

Can’t the Festival be over with already? Then in front of Poseidon and everybody, I can finally tell him “NO!” Or wouldn’t it be perfect if he had a garment malfunction on his vest and two perfect circles fell off of his clothes on accident? See how he’d like it if his nipples were exposed for all of Natatoria to see. Wouldn’t that be a sight?

Thank you, Diary. You’re the best!

Tatiana traced her fingers over the words, then closed the book. Here it was in black and white, all her feelings, all her disdain, and yet, after one empty kiss she’d forgotten everything. How could the promise do that to someone? She picked up the book and threw it across the room, angered Azor had had so much control over her. Light reflected a golden gleam off the bracelet mid-throw. With a featherlike touch, her finger grazed the Natatorian symbol. Did it really have poison in it? She tried to slide it from her wrist, but couldn’t; the clasp locked tight. Inside, a soft shushing hit the metal—liquid. Poison.

She gritted her teeth and slumped at the kitchen table, holding her face in her hands. The bracelet proved Azor had masterminded everything. Did he guess she’d figure out he
was
cheating and wanted to ensure she wouldn’t leave? Was the ambush his  final stab at controlling Natatoria? Grinding the rebellion out of existence by framing them? He was going to kill her.

With a loud gasp, someone emerged into the porthole, startling Tatiana. Her insides jumped and she palmed the knife, holding her breath, afraid who it could be. At the silence. She tiptoed into the hall, her heart rate thundering in her ears.

“Jacob?” Tatiana asked softly.

Tatiana heard another gasp before a splash—the intruder’s retreat.

She ran to the empty porthole and plunged her face underwater. The corner of her cape dangled next to her, masking the intruder’s scent.

“Red tide,” Tatiana cussed, tossing the cape in the corner.

She peered outside through the one-way glass, seeing no one. Should she dare go out? With the Dradux ready to mer-nap her again, she couldn’t chance it. Instead, she pushed the coffee table over the hole, and heaved a heavy rock cabinet on top.

“There,” she said shakily, knowing only a mer with Hulkish strength could lift both off at once. “Try and get me now, lampreys.”

Sitting on the couch with her legs folded up in a ball, she sat with knife in hand and waited.

And then the lost feelings surfaced, the suffocation that haunted her in the compound. The voice that said she’d never measure up. That she didn’t deserve happiness. That even Azor, who’d hounded her affection relentlessly, had cheated on her with Xirene and now sought to kill her. If she survived somehow and Jacob never returned, what was she going to do? She couldn’t believe he wouldn’t come for her. He had to, otherwise she’d be hunted and everlost in Natatoria—forever. And then the tears came.

26

: : :

Edge of Death

“Is this her?” a garbled voice said from the dark.

Jacob turned, or tried to turn, but found his neck refused to obey his wishes, and his eyelids were glued shut.

“No, you idiot—”

Azor.
Jacob knew he was in Hades now, and he couldn’t move to kill the bastard. With each small breath, fire raced deep in his chest, pulling at his lungs. A groan escaped his lips.

“Well, her fin’s the same color,” the goon whined, sounding like Chauncey.

“That was her maid, for Poseidon’s sake. Don’t you know what the Princess looks like?”

Nicole.
Was she alive? Did they have Grommet, too? Was he dead?

“Hey, Captain. This one is still alive,” another voice said.

Jacob focused all his might to open his eyes, unable to.

“Who is it?” Azor asked, his voice closer.

Jacob’s body flopped over as if of its own volition and cool water rushed over his gills.

“Oh, it’s just Jacob,” Chauncey said, his breath reeking of oysters.

Anger pulsed through Jacob and he wanted to reach up and strangle the jackass. What did he think he was? A Dradux now?

 “Heh,” Azor said mockingly. “Look at him. He’s one lucky bastard.”

“I thought I killed him,” Chauncey said. “I’ll finish him off for you.”

Chauncey, you traitor. Wait till I get my hands on you.

“No,” Azor said quickly. “I—I need him. If he hangs on, send him to a healer.”

Jacob willed himself to open his eyes, to fight. Say something at least, but he couldn’t. Death’s grip had its hooks wrapped around his limp fin, waiting for his soul to release. Whatever pinioned his chest wasn’t doing so through his heart. His blood, he imagined, with deep determination to live, healed what tissue it could around the weapon.

Chauncey whined, “Come on, Captain. Are you sure? He did… you know, see T’s naughty bits.”

Azor laughed evilly. “And you could have, too. Played with them if you wanted, but that would have required you to find her first, which you didn’t!” Azor’s voice morphed into an angry bark. “I can’t believe she’s not here!”

Jacob felt something nudge his fin. “Someone must have told him our plan.”

“How? No one knew but us.”

“He had the second floor all sealed up initially, and then Darrellon. Did you see his head?” Chauncey tsked.

“Yeah, well,” Azor grunted, sad almost. “There’s no exit upstairs, so that
one
must have been the decoy so she could get away.”

“But what about Xirene’s room?” someone else asked.

“There’s no outer exit, I said!” Azor sounded more adamant. However, there
was
another exit—Jacob had covered it up with Xirene’s bed once they’d found it.

More fire spread down Jacob’s torso as he worked to flex his fin—something popped in his spine. He groaned.

“Just let me finish him off. He’ll never join us. He’s sympathetic to the Princess. We don’t need him.”