Emerge (14 page)

Caspian’s house is just a short swim through the tunnels. I ring the bell at the underwater entrance, and he ushers me into the grottos. Unlike my family, Caspian’s uses the upstairs mostly for show. Not only are they more traditionalist than my parents, but Caspian’s grandmother can’t go into the house above at all. She’s one of the oldest Mer who’s come on land, and by the time she did, it was too late for her to master her legs. The entire time I’m saying hello to her and his parents, all I can think about is getting Caspian alone so we can talk.

It’s still too light out to go in the ocean, so I suggest we go to the swimming pool and get some sun. Really, I’m just looking for privacy, and Caspian’s bedroom in the grottos—while cool with its stalactites and crystal-imbedded walls—is a cave without the luxury of a door.

“I’m glad you suggested this,” Caspian says several minutes later in his saltwater pool. “I’ve hardly seen you this week.”

“Yeah, I’ve been really busy with my history project.”

“The one on your ancestors? You’re still working on that?”

“It’s worth twenty-five percent of my grade.”

“So, you’re spending a lot of time with that Clay guy, right?”

“I kind of have to,” I answer, trying not to sound defensive. “The project’s made me think about my ancestors and how much I don’t know about them.” I swim in a slow circle around him. “Do you ever think about yours?” I hope that sounded more subtle to him than it did to me.

He raises an eyebrow. “About my ancestors? Honestly, I try to avoid it, with Adrianna and all.” He lowers his voice when he says her name.

“Still, you must get curious about her,” I press. “Don’t you ever ask your parents about her? Or your grandmother?”

“I did a few times when I was little. My grandmother’s so ashamed of the scandal she won’t even say the word ‘siren’ out loud. And I can tell it upsets my parents.”

I hear the words he’s not saying: that it upsets him, too. For years, I’ve avoided the topic of sireny around Caspian to spare his feelings, and I hate what I’m about to do.

“But you know some stuff about her, right? When she was imprisoned, what happened to the man she sirened?”

A grim look settles on Caspian’s face. “He was executed.”

It takes me a second to find my voice. “E-executed? By who?”

“It was after the Mer monarchy fell and the wars started, so I guess whatever faction was ruling at the time. None of them ever stay in power long.”

“Why would they execute an innocent human? Imprisoning Adrianna I can understand—she knew the penalty when she sirened him. But the human was a victim.” My volume rises.

“I guess they couldn’t risk him telling other humans what had happened to him.”

“But nothing like that would be sanctioned today, right? Not up here.” I fight to tamp down my panic. Our community would never execute Clay, would they?

“I’d like to think it couldn’t happen, but Adrianna’s crime was only a century ago.” Caspian’s right; a hundred years is nothing for Mer. Change comes very slowly to a culture as ancient as ours. “Lia, why do you look so worked up? It’s not like any sirens exist anymore. Adrianna’s been the only one in six hundred years.”

“Yeah, but hypothetically, why would they execute a human now? If he started talking about Mermaids, wouldn’t people just think he was nuts?”

“It’s hard to say what he’d remember. Sure, Mermaids would sound crazy, but accusations of brainwashing could be a real threat if the authorities suspected us of being a cult or something. Why do you look so nervous?”

I smooth my brow. “It’s just such a scary thought.”

Caspian raises a hand out of the water and squeezes my shoulder. “You don’t need to worry, Goldfish.” I smile at the pet name he’s used since we were kids. “No one knows any siren songs anymore.”

“What if someone does?” I ask, hearing Melusine’s eerie song in my head.

“Teaching those songs has been illegal for centuries, and all the shell records have been smashed. Let’s just drop it.”

Then how did Melusine learn that song? Was it passed down through her family in secret all these years? Sung to her like a lullaby when she was a baby? I cringe inwardly at the sinister image.

“How do you stop a siren?” I ask, my voice urgent. “I mean, how would you?”

“For tides’ sake, I don’t know!” Caspian snaps. I back up at the force of his anger. He’s never spoken to me like that before. “Why are we talking about this? Sireny is the reason my family went from being respectable Mer nobility to virtual pariahs.”

“Casp, you’re not pariahs. Now that you’re on land, your family has a fresh start.”

“In the eyes of your parents and a few others maybe, but plenty of the Mer here still won’t let us into their homes.” Caspian stops near the pool’s edge. “Do you know what it’s like to tell my six-year-old sister why her new friend’s parents won’t let her come over for a play date?” His blue eyes shine with sadness.

My own sting with unshed tears. How many times have I gone to a birthday party that Caspian wasn’t at? How many times have I heard people whisper when he walked into a room? I hate that my questions have reminded him of his pain. I want to tell him what I saw. I want to explain why I’ve brought up a topic that hurts him. More than that, I’m in too far over my tail, and I need to confide in him.

But involving Caspian would be unforgivably selfish. He’d insist on helping me, even if it meant implicating himself and his family in another siren scandal. That’s the last thing they need. So instead, all I say is, “I’m sorry, Casp. I’m really sorry.”

After a few awkward laps around the pool, we bring the conversation around to lighter topics, like the recent dance at Caspian’s school and all his lame excuses for deciding to go without a date.

The whole time, I’m thinking about the horrible, empty look in Clay’s eyes. If Caspian doesn’t know anything else about sirens and I can’t ask my parents, there’s only one place that might have the information I need.

“Dad,” I ask Monday morning over breakfast, “can I start working after school at the Foundation?”

My dad coughs on a bite of his sturgeon scramble, but recovers quickly. “Of course you can.”

My mother covers it up better, but the slight angling of her head tells me she, too, is surprised. “What brought this on?”

“I’m a junior now, so I figure it’s time I take more of an interest in our Community.” My parents look skeptical. “Plus, I’ve been spending kind of a lot on shoes lately.” Understanding dawns on their faces.

“Aurelia, you know we’re more than happy to help you girls assimilate in any way we can,” my mother says, “and shopping is pretty much a requirement for assimilation in this neighborhood.” As she sprinkles pink sea salt onto her plate, a new designer watch sparkles on her wrist.

“Yeah, and I’m super grateful, but I still feel like I should contribute,” I say. Across the table, the twins gawk at me like I’ve grown tentacles, but Em smiles approvingly. Amy is too busy sneaking Barnacle pieces of sturgeon under the table to listen.

“That’s very responsible of you,” my dad says. “How about helping me in the P.R. department?”

That won’t get me anywhere near where I need to be. “Actually, I was thinking I could help with the Information Input Initiative.”

“You want to spend all your time listening to dusty old shells?” Lazuli says, shock evident in her voice.

Luckily, I prepared myself for a question like this. “Someone has to do it, and I’m good with computers.” My parents and most other Mer raised Below are hopeless when it comes to technology. My offer will be too tempting for my parents to refuse.

“When would you like to start?” my mother asks.

“How’s today?”

“Lia, you look a little green.”

“Huh?” I haven’t been listening to Kelsey. Melusine and Clay stand at the end of the hall. One of her hands rests on his t-shirt clad chest, the other grips his bicep possessively. That’s what she’s turned him into. Her possession.

“Are you sick?” Kelsey’s voice buzzes from a million miles away.

Melusine leans up to kiss him. Hunger gleams in his eyes, and it reminds me what he said about something coming over him when they kissed. Whatever he’s feeling right now, she’s forced it on him. This stunning seventeen-year-old girl with her glossy black locks and striking figure is a monster.

“Kelsey, can you go get Mel to talk to you?”

Kelsey looks over her shoulder in realization. “Lia, you really shouldn’t be watching their smooch fests. It just upsets you. Why don’t we head out to the courtyard?”

“Go talk to Mel,” I beg. “Please?” It’s stupid, but I have to separate them, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

Kelsey studies my face, then marches up to them. She taps Melusine on the shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt this entirely appropriate use of a public hallway,” Kelsey says, “but I need to ask you a question about biology.”

Melusine tears her mouth from Clay’s only long enough to say, “We’re not in the same biology class.”

“I know, but I’m organizing the field trip, and I have questions for everyone. Urgent questions.” With that, Kelsey pulls a surprised Melusine away from Clay by the arm and leads her farther down the hall. “Do you suffer from seasickness?”

Clay just stands there, staring blankly after Melusine, until she calls behind her in a sultry voice, “Go talk to your friends as long as you want, baby. I’ll see you later.”

He snaps into action, his eyes roaming the hallway, presumably looking for his friends. They land on me, and he walks over.

“Hey, how’s it going?” His voice is the robotic one I’ve heard him use before, but now the lifelessness makes sense.

“You have lip gloss on your face,” I say. His mouth is smeared with it.

When he just stands there, I pull some polka dot tissues from my bag. “Here,” I offer. Clay doesn’t move to take them. “May I?” I ask.

I brush a tissue gently across his mouth, wiping away the remnants of her lecherous kisses.

His hand covers mine, and he looks down at me, clearly trying to regain focus. He then takes the tissues from me and finishes the job himself. “Thanks,” he says.

I take a step back. “I can’t come over to work on the project today,” I say. “I have some other research to do.”

“Another project?” he asks in a voice still not his own.

“A big one.”

I usually swim through the underwater entrance to the Foundation. Today, though, I’m coming straight from school, so I enter the towering office building through the doors of blue-green glass meant for human visitors. I walk past a gleaming, white alabaster sculpture of a dolphin on my way to the reception desk. A giant aquarium comprises the entire wall behind the desk, and my eyes linger on a basketball-sized, turquoise discus fish as it swims from the left side of the tank to the right before disappearing into a clump of java moss.

“Aurelia? Your father mentioned you were coming.” I turn my attention to one of the two receptionists, who I recognize from a few of my parents’ parties. I’m used to seeing her in a bright yellow tail and traditional
siluess
, so the sight of her in a well-tailored suit disconcerts me. In her current outfit, the only hint she’s Mer is that she wears her copper hair long and flowing, as does the other receptionist.