“I’m sorry, Bex,” I whisper.
“I know,” she says. We’re going to be okay. She points to where Riley was just standing.
“That one’s hot. You might have actually found a keeper.”
I laugh. “Don’t get too excited. I’ll screw it up.”
“If you do, I call dibs.”
My father and mother appear on the porch.
“What do we do now?” he asks.
I point to Bex. “Teach this one how to fight.”
“Bitch, please,” Bex says.
Chapter Ten
THE HUNTING GROUNDS
AFTER STOMPING THROUGH HUSK’S MIND, I COULDN’T tell the difference between his troubles and my own. He must have felt my despair just as strongly, the loneliness, the uncertainty of every dangerous day, the terror of falling victim to a shark’s hunger or Minerva’s rage. Managing all that hurt was almost more than I could handle, and I found myself weeping at times.
My Rusalka guards ignored my suffering for the most part. They took me out on my fishing trips and kept their distance. The one I’d stabbed was still angry. The other was bored. They never guessed that I understood every word they said. The lifetime of information I’d gleaned from Husk explained a myriad of mysteries about the Alpha. I had a firm grasp of all of their different dialects and customs. The Rusalka dialect was the most interesting to me, primarily because I hadn’t thought of it as a language before. It burrowed like a worm into my mind, squirming and making paths of understanding until I knew every grunt, groan, and gnash of teeth. Of course, knowing the language and using it were two totally different things, and as crude as the Rusalka tongue sounded, it was deceptively complex. Rusalka used more than their lips and tongues to form words. The water helped with their pronunciation, as well as the bubbles released into the sea. There was some echolocation going on, like dolphins, and the difference between meanings could be extreme, depending on whether the words bounced off sand, rocks, or even fish.
In some ways, it allowed me to feel connected to the guards, even though they spent nearly all of our time together insulting me. I considered speaking to them but worried they might attack me, especially in light of how hostile they could be toward Husk, whom they considered an abomination. They weren’t shy about their disgust, even when he was present. It was just another reason to feel sympathy for him. His was a lonely life.
I was achingly lonely, too, but there was one silver lining to having guards who wanted nothing to do with me. When I was done fishing and had delivered my catch to Minerva, they didn’t seem to care what I did. They didn’t seem to fear that I might try to escape. I was in the middle of nowhere, after all, so they didn’t get in my way when I started making daily trips to the island above.
Every day I rose into the dazzling light and scampered onto the black rocks. The tides had polished an almost perfect square about seven feet across into a smooth, comfortable patch. I spent hours meditating and doing as much yoga as my back would allow. I watched the clouds chase one another across the sky and searched the horizon for boats. It was peaceful there, and the more time I spent on that rock, the better I felt.
I felt close to my mother there. She was an amateur guru who had taught me every pose. I moved into sun salutation, then warrior two, then attempted a handstand. I let out a little cheer when it finally happened. Battling currents to right myself had strengthened me. My balance was incredible. My arms and legs were starting to resemble a Triton’s. I was getting lean like Arcade and Fathom. Mom would have been proud.
But the solitude had a downside. In those quiet hours Fathom came to me. I tried not to think about him, but some days he sat down in the front row of my thoughts and wouldn’t go away. Even when I slept, he came prowling around, popping up in bizarre cameos. His smile waited in ambush around every corner. I felt haunted by his kisses and hands, but when I woke, a blanket of bitterness covered me.
He isn’t coming. He’s not even going to try. He expects me to do this on my own. I closed my eyes tight to squeeze out the angry tears.
There was a splash and a thump, and Husk was standing over me, blocking the sun with his body and turning himself into a black hole with flaming edges. He reached down and jerked me to my feet.
“You will come with me.”
“What’s going on?” I said just before we hit the water. He dragged me toward the city, with the volcano raging nearby. The city’s buildings grew close until we were gliding between them, following the boulevard of bones toward Minerva’s temple. Husk dismissed her guards, then clamped down on me with his cruel strength.
“Will you please talk to me?” I pleaded, trying both my mouth and my mind.
“The prime is ill. You must go to her and provide comfort. She is in a great deal of pain,” he finally explained.
“Pain?”
He led me inside Minerva’s royal home and through a labyrinth of hallways.
“What am I supposed to do for her?” I argued. “I don’t know how to help a sick person, and forget a half-fish, half-human person.”
Husk shook me harshly. “Shut your mouth, fool,” he growled, then looked around to see if anyone was spying on us. “Do you want the others to hear? No one can know she is ill. If they believe the heir is in jeopardy, they may try to kill her.”
“And that’s a bad thing why?”
“There are seventy of my kind left alive. If one of them steps forward to challenge for her title, the others will do the same. They will turn on one another. I cannot risk the handful that remain to a senseless power struggle.”
“You don’t really expect me to be sympathetic, do you?”
He growled in response.
“She needs a doctor,” I continued.
“The Alpha do not have doctors.”
“Which is why there are only seventy of you left,” I mumbled. “In the sane world, when people get sick, they go see a very smart person who knows how to take care of them. I’m not one of those very smart people. I don’t know what to do about her pain. I have never had a baby. I couldn’t even get babysitting jobs in our apartment building because I am irresponsible and undependable. You have picked the wrong person for this job.”
“Part of the bargain—”
“A bargain I never agreed to,” I reminded him.
“All you must do right now is tell her that everything is going to be all right. That will suffice.”
“What if she’s not all right, Husk?”
We moved into a room lit by the volcano’s crimson glow. Everything appeared sinister there, like we’d stumbled upon a devil worshipper’s tomb. It was filled with statues of the dead prime, each looking toward the center of the room. There Minerva hovered, her body convulsing in pain and her tail slashing violently back and forth. She thundered in both agony and anger. The pain must have been intense. Every Alpha I’d ever met refused to acknowledge suffering. Spangler cut Arcade’s hand off when we were locked in Trident, and she treated it like a minor inconvenience. Fathom often came to class covered in fresh cuts and bruises, even broken ribs, and he wouldn’t accept as much as a Band-Aid.
Two Rusalka swam past us, one with a face disfigured by vicious cuts. Blood spiraled out of the wounds like delicate ribbon. His eyes had been raked, and he was probably blind. I wondered what he’d done to cause Minerva to attack him so cruelly, or even if he’d done anything wrong at all. Husk spotted him as well, and I could sense he shared my concern. What I knew of these people was that if one was blinded or maimed in a way that made him or her unable to fight, they were usually killed or tossed into the volcano. Minerva had put the guard’s life in question with just a slash of her nails. It dawned on me that the attack was calculated. She needed to let everyone know she was still dangerous. It was then that I realized just how explosive her illness could be for all of us. If Husk was right and the rest of the Rusalka attacked Minerva, they would certainly turn on each other once she was dead. It could help my escape, but more than likel
y, I’d just get caught up in the killing and die first. No, it was best to try to help Husk keep things calm if I could. I just hoped he didn’t expect me to perform miracles.
I looked over her convulsing body. I didn’t have a single instinct. How was I going to make that lunatic feel better? I didn’t know anything about pregnancies. I didn’t even know how it worked for her. Sirena have a humanlike upper body, but the bottom half is like a giant fish tail. Her round belly shared both parts, so the baby was growing in the middle. It boggled my mind. Her anatomy wasn’t built for giving birth to a human-shaped child. It dawned on me that she might lay eggs, like a real fish. Maybe there wouldn’t be one child inside, but millions, all waiting to be hatched.
He gave me a shove, and I crept inch by inch toward the prime like I was sneaking up on an angry pit bull. When I was close, but still safely out of her reach, I stopped and cleared my throat to let her know I was there.
“This foul thing is attacking me,” she said when she saw me. She clawed at her pregnant belly, threatening to cut her own flesh the way she had her servant’s face, and my back. Did she really think that shouting threats at an unborn child would cause it to obey? I could almost taste her mental illness seeping into the water.
“Tell me how you’re feeling.” I used the Sirena dialect I’d hijacked from Husk’s brain, taking a chance it wouldn’t enrage her. She didn’t seem to notice.
“There is a stabbing pain in my belly,” she growled. “No doubt the heir is extending his blades.”
The heir was, like his father, Triton. His race of people had weapons that grew inside their arms, sharp and dangerous. If the baby let them pop out while in the womb, he could kill his mother.
“How long have you felt this pain?” I nudged a little closer, hoping it wasn’t a mistake.
“This beast has been fighting me for five days,” she said. “I swear he will be born with a trident.”
I looked to Husk, hoping he understood what my eyes were saying. Sharp pains for five days didn’t sound good. She’s losing the baby, I thought, doing my best to shoot it into Husk’s mind. I didn’t like fooling around with his thoughts, but this was something he needed to understand, and I was terrified to say it in front of her.
“Are you tired? Do you feel weak?” I asked.
She roared at me and her fingernails flew out, nearly stripping the skin off my face. I fell back, horrified and desperate to save myself. Husk helped me right myself, but my heart was beating so fast I could barely hear my own thoughts.
“The prime is never weak!”
“Your Majesty, I believe the girl is asking you if you feel anything unusual, only she is doing it in her ignorant and human way,” Husk said, moving between us. “Please, be patient. She is a topsider, after all. Respect is not part of her society. Your strength is beyond question, but the growth of an heir can be a taxing process for a mother, even one as strong as you. Remember the story of Zeir, the mother who birthed a hundred warriors.”
“Yes, yes, she opened her womb and her babies marched out and off to war. When her children returned after conquering foreign lands, they found their mother had died of exhaustion. I know the story,” Minerva said bitterly.
“Has there been any bleeding?” I asked.
“Yes,” she growled, but it turned into a wince when another wave of agony rolled over her.
“How long?”
“Five days. Is the heir in peril?” Minerva demanded, and for the first time, I saw something close to concern in her face. Maybe it was self-motivated. Perhaps she realized her future could come to an end, or maybe under the meanness and mental illness was a mother who worried for her baby. It was just a flicker, but I suddenly couldn’t be callous to her.
“The baby will be fine,” I lied.
“Of course, he will be,” Husk asserted. His tone made her fears sound ridiculous. It was almost patronizing, but it seemed to calm her. He turned to me abruptly, his eyes worried and frightened, but he still played along, waving at me like I was some kind of flying pest. “Tell Our Majesty that pain is to be expected when giving birth to a great warrior.”
“He’s going to be fierce,” I said, but I couldn’t look her in the eyes.
Minerva studied me, peering closely as if my lies were scribbled on my face.
“His blood runs hot,” she said, proudly. She caressed the same belly she had just tried to slice open. “Stay put, little one. Your empire will be here when you arrive.”
She winced against a new jolt of pain.
“Your Majesty, I have an unorthodox idea,” Husk said. “And I mean no disrespect, but if the child is already full of fight, perhaps it would be best to calm him if we can. Would you permit me to retrieve something that will ease his passions?”
Minerva’s face flared just as quickly as it calmed itself. She lunged at Husk with her hands curled into claws, but the pain forced her to give up her attack.
“Your Majesty, I am not suggesting you are so weak as to need assistance, but the heir does not know his own strength and limitations. His lust for conquering is clear, but he puts you in jeopardy. If he kills you, the empire could lose him as well. Naturally, he will most likely live, but then he will lack his mother’s wisdom, and if you are not here, he will be placed in the counsel of Rusalka,” Husk continued. “My people will be forced to steer his future.”
Minerva contemplated Husk, and her angry face twisted into disgust. It was ridiculous how simple it was to change her opinions. Husk was a master manipulator. He should have been the prime, not Minerva.
“That cannot happen. Retrieve your medicine and take your human with you, Husk. I can’t bear to look at her grotesque face another moment,” she said. Her hand flipped dismissively, and Husk nodded. He grabbed me roughly and dragged me back through the halls and out into the boulevard. All of the Rusalka were there, some hovering above, watching and waiting.
One growled at him, and Husk barked back, swimming up into his face and pounding on his chest. They wanted to know if Minerva was sick. They could hear her cries and knew something was wrong, but Husk denied it. He told them the heir was healthy and strong and that when he was born, he would hear about how his people crouched around his mother’s door, waiting for a chance to kill her. He told them they were parasites, eating off the bottoms of whales, surviving on filth and feces. The Rusalka watched him for a moment, then without a word, they swam away, back to whatever lives they led.
Once we were alone, Husk continued pulling me along until we were out of the city and headed toward the place where I fished.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I demanded.
“Minerva has lost the baby,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“It just happened. Death seeps from her skin,” he said.
“Then it’s too late? What are you going to do?”
“She doesn’t know, yet,” he said. “And it allows us a little more time.”
“More time for what?”
“Your escape,” he said.
“What?”
“The empire dies today. The others will turn on one another to seize power. You should flee. There is no need for you to die. I will distract my people as long as I can. Go to the edge of the fishing grounds. I have left tools for you that will give you a chance at survival.”
He reached over and touched the top of my scalp, and images flashed in my head. He had prepared for this day. Despite his seeming lack of empathy, he wanted me to escape the chaos before it rolled over me. What he planned for me was insane, but it was the only chance he could give.
“They’ll kill you, too,” I said. Minerva’s begrudging respect for him was the only thing that kept the others from killing him. Now they would have nothing standing in their way.
“They may try. Now, go,” he shouted.
“Husk—”
“GO!”
I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t thank him. I just swam, as hard and fast as I could. I looked out on
that strange world and realized it was the last time I would ever see it. It was my prison, but I had witnessed beauty there. When the yellow light from above blended with the red of the volcano, everything became an orange cream soda. Silver fish danced from left to right, and turtles as big as dogs dipped and dived inside their tangerine shells. I’d played with curious manatees, who reminded me of Selkies, and pods of dolphins, who never got tired of games of hide-and-seek. There were brief moments when my despair slipped away, and I felt like some kind of underwater Disney princess who, at any moment, might break into song with a backing chorus of dancing stingrays. But, I reminded myself, even a well-decorated cage was still a cage.
Husk’s visions steered me to a tiny cave, and soon it came into view. I searched it frantically and found a spear buried in the sand. There were shells and jagged rocks as well, but I left them behind. I wanted to stay light, keep a hand free in case I needed it. The spear was the weapon I knew the best anyway. Buried beneath it was a woven bag, something Husk made from seaweed. It was full of pieces of dead fish he had collected over several days. When I lifted it, bones and skin and guts dripped out, along with blood and fat. It seemed like an odd thing to help me escape, but I instinctively understood its purpose.
I pulled myself out of the cave with the spear and bag, only to find two familiar faces. My Rusalka guards were waiting. They demanded to know what I was doing. They thumped chests and bared their fangs and threatened with talons. And then, everything stopped, and both of their eyes landed on my bag of fish. Their tiny slit noses smelled the disgusting scent, but how could they not? The contents were so foul I realized they could probably be smelled miles away. And they realized it too.
I swung the chum bag as hard as I could before they could react. Its contents slammed into their chests. Fish and blood exploded everywhere, coating them in bones and gore. The rest drifted into the water, spreading out like a fan, farther and farther, seeping into the current.
“Charchar,” I said.
They took off toward the city, but they didn’t get far before a great white appeared. It was joined by another, then another, then another—all cruising silently through the water until there were so many they blotted out the light streaming from above. The first strike took a Rusalka’s arm clean off. A second shark went for a leg. Black blood gushed in every direction. It was fresh and would attract even more sharks. It was time to get the hell out of there.