Grim feigned offense. “Would I lead you on, my friend?”
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” The plan turned to action. “In that case, I’ll need to borrow your car.”
Sixteen
Coral
Something sour and tasting of polluted water burned in Coral’s throat.
The farther they swam from the palace, the more an invisible anchor weighted her. Where she thought she might feel freedom, she only felt more pain.
What would the crown princess think of all this?
Coral had always gone to her oldest sister for answers. Advice. Wisdom. Now a hollowness expanded her chest, and it was all she could do to just keep swimming before that feeling consumed her.
It seemed a century had passed before she and her grandmother reached Last Village—the one situated at their merdom’s easternmost edge. Coral had never ventured here—to the last signs of life before the Abyss. There had never been a need. Where moonlight pierced the depths in scarce columns moments before, darkness now dwelled. Black, ink-drenched ocean stretched as far as she could see. No seabed. No surface. Oblivion. The beginning of the end. A few more miles and they’d be lost. Never able to find their way back.
Coral shifted her focus to the small village nestled before them. Whoever thought to build homes here must have enjoyed solitude. Or shadows. Or privacy.
All of the above.
Shoulders taut and eyes ahead, Coral searched the homes for signs of life. A few windows glowed with the soft light of a captive crystal jellyfish. With her grandmother in the lead, they made their way through the forgotten village. Past dilapidated old homes built from shipwreck remnants. So different from her regal palace accommodations. Some doors appeared to hang on their hinges, the wood planks rotting with wide cracks or holes in between. Helms acted as window coverings. Masts stood as signposts. Rudders played as fences or gates.
The path took some work to navigate. With little light and zero familiarity with this place, Coral would have gotten lost had it not been for her grandmother. When their way turned into a dead end, Coral stopped.
“What now?”
Her grandmother turned, setting Coral’s trunk down in the sand. “My sweet Coral. There is so much to tell you now that you are finally free of your cage.”
My cage? “What do you mean?”
The old merwoman approached her, smoothed her hair back, then cupped Coral’s face between her palms. “Oh, I have waited for this day, my special girl. The day I could reveal the truth of who you are. And who I am.”
Coral couldn’t speak. Or breathe. With the Abyss looming in the background, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what came next. But deep inside she could sense it. She thought of the dark tunnel she swam through to get to her secret place in the rocks. Coral had never feared that darkness.
Light always waits on the other end.
“What is beyond the Abyss, Grandmother?”
The merwoman’s face lit up. Had she been waiting for Coral to ask this very question? “The only way to know that, my darling, is to swim through it. For it is only in darkness that one is forced to seek the light. Many Diseased before you have been offered the chance. Now I will ask you—will you trust me enough to follow me through this darkness?” She offered her hand.
Coral blinked. Swim through the Abyss? How? It was said to be never-ending. They could get lost for an eternity. “Grandmother, we should turn back. What you’re asking me to do . . .” It sounded like a trick. It sounded like—
Coral gasped.
Her grandmother nodded.
Only one in all the ocean was said to be powerful enough to survive the Abyss.
Coral’s pulse throttled.
Her grandmother leaned near. Whispered, “Indeed. Now you will either believe what others have said, or trust me. The choice is yours.” She retrieved Coral’s trunk and floated away until she vanished into the shadows.
The merwoman who helped raise Coral was more than even Father knew. Her grandmother was the Sorceress of the Sea.
If Father were here, he’d forbid Coral from going anywhere near her presence.
Which is precisely why I have to see it through.
With all her courage plus a splash of defiance, the little mermaid followed the Sorceress into the Abyss.
Interstitial
Seventeen
Brooke
After
When the boy’s fs stone, he hoists himself onto the ledge without my help.
For several seconds he stares at me, mouth open. When I ignore him and attempt to retrieve the raft, he assists. Together we draw it up in silence, drag it into the cave at our rear.
I stagger and hold on to the rock wall for support, my body catching up to my mind. The shivers come full and harsh and battering. I’m shaking uncontrollably and ack! Why can’t I stop?
“Hi.” His voice sounds like that of a classic movie star. Cary Grant or Rock Hudson. It’s a recordable voice. One you’d want to narrate audiobooks so you could listen to it all day.
I wish I could cover my ears and drown out the sound.
He shuffles, his flashlight bouncing with each movement.
My vision blurs. I might throw up. Or pass out. I vote for the second. At least then I’d escape this misery.
When he nears, I stiffen and recoil.
But then something that feels like a blanket wraps my shoulders. His hands rub against my arms over the material. I’m chattering and shivering and unable to stop when my body falls against his. He wraps me, then removes his coat and helps me put my arms into the sleeves. It’s damp but warm. Next he’s leading me to the raft and helping me sit, tucking the blanket around my legs like a burrito.
“Th-th-thanks,” I say between chatters.
“I should be the one thanking you.” He stands his flashlight straight up, then riffles through what appears to be an emergency supply kit attached to the raft. “All this high-end survival stuff and not a single cheese pizza in here.”
The joke catches me off guard and I release a clipped laugh.
My vision may not be the best right now, but his satisfied half smile does not escape my notice. I blink and focus. Close the distance between us with my gaze.
There’s something so . . . What’s the word? . . . intriguing about watching a person who doesn’t realize they’re being watched. I consider him across the space. Face pale when he arrived, the color has begun to return to his cheeks. He’s angular, every point of his elbows and bow of his knees revealing a purpose, a destination, a plan.
“Wh-what were you d-doing out th-there?” Curiosity wins against my will.
“It’s complicated.” He exhales and his shoulders quake. When he looks up, eyes locking with mine, I retreat into myself. “What were you doing?”
“Looking for you. Or wasn’t that obvious?”
Lightning flashes over the water, thunder rolling and echoing around the cave. “I h-have t-to g-go.” Even as I speak, the idea sounds absurd.
The boy chuckles, echoing my thoughts. “Neither of us is going anywhere tonight. We’ll have to wait for morning. It’s too dark and the storm’s picking up again. And you are in no condition to move, let alone make the climb back.”