Emerge (22 page)

“So they did this experiment where they tested different frequencies of sound. They made them visible with some type of powder and showed that sound creates these beautiful geometric patterns. It’s gotten like, three million views. Pretty awesome.”

“Sound has shape?” I ask.

“Yeah, we just can’t see it. Imagine all the other incredible stuff in the world we must not know about. Maybe we’d be able to see it if we just knew where to look.” He lets his gaze drift out over the ocean view from our table on the restaurant’s balcony. “Did you know humans have explored less than five percent of the ocean? Crazy, right?”

“Actually less than one percent if you include the deep ocean instead of just the ocean floor,” I correct automatically. Then I look up at him. Is it weird I know that?

His smile widens. “Maybe one day I’ll take some scuba lessons. Get out there and explore some of it myself.”

“You’d want to do that?” I’m surprised. “I thought you wanted to write songs and symphonies.”

“I do. Think about all the songs I’d be inspired to write after deep-sea diving.”

It’s comforting to hear Clay talking like himself again.

“Of course, the ocean’s not as beautiful as you are.” Well, almost like himself. Even once the sireny wears off enough that Clay’s personality comes back, that part sticks. I guess being enamored with your siren is too essential to the spell to just fizzle.

My face must fall at his words because he says, “What? I thought girls liked guys to tell them how beautiful they are.” The waitress hears Clay’s words as she sets down our plates and shoots me a dirty, jealous look before disappearing.

“As a general rule we do, but … ”

“But, what? Guys tell you so often that you’re sick of hearing it?” His smile is cheeky.

“Trust me, that’s not it.” The twins—with their bouncing blond curls and their bouncing bikini tops—always have guys fawning all over them, but my love life makes watching a sea slug sound exciting.

“Well, you are. I’ve always thought so.”

Really? Has he really always thought I’m… or is that just the spell talking?

“So, gorgeous, what’ll it be? Beach Breeze?” he asks, gesturing to the California roll topped with sweet shrimp that I always order. “Or Too Hot to Handle?” He opens his chopsticks and points them at the spicy tuna concoction he insisted we try. I love tuna as much as the next Mermaid, but the slices of jalapeno stacked high on top of this one have always scared me off.

“Too Hot,” I say decisively.

Clay raises an eyebrow in challenge as he loads wasabi on top of it. But I’m not backing down. I cross my arms over my chest and try to look like I couldn’t be bothered. What am I getting myself into?

Clay lifts a piece between his chopsticks, dips one corner in soy sauce, then brings it to my lips. I lean over the table, and take a bite.

“What you’ll need to remember to ace your lab,” my A.P. Bio teacher lectures, “is to carefully consider all your observations.”

As we review the carbon cycle for the umpteenth time, I take his advice.

Observation 1: Melusine has left Jake alone.

I’ve seen him approach her in the hall a few times, but she’s ignored him. I’m not sure whether to be grateful she hasn’t sirened him or confused as hell about why she hasn’t. All those hallway make out sessions made me think maybe Melusine wanted Clay as some kind of boy toy arm candy. But if that were true, she’d just siren Jake. What is she hiding? If I can figure that out, maybe I can find a way to help Clay. One that doesn’t involve stripping him of his free will multiple times a day.

Observation 2: Melusine hasn’t so much as talked to Clay since her failed attempt to get him back.

This would make sense if she’d moved on to Jake, but she hasn’t. As far as I can tell (and I’ve been watching closely), she hasn’t moved on to anyone.

Observation 3: She hasn’t talked to me either, but she keeps … watching me.

She’s doing it now. Clay’s not in bio this period, but Melusine is, and I can feel her gaze on me right this minute, heating up the back of my neck. I look over my shoulder, and our eyes meet across the rows of long, black-topped tables. She smiles at me. She’s biding her time. But until when? And for what?

Observation 4: Melusine knows I’m watching her, too.

So, she’s not going to do anything in front of me that might reveal a clue to her plan.

Conclusion: I need reinforcements.

“So, you want me to spy on a seventeen-year-old girl, but you can’t tell me why?”

I hesitate. Then nod.

“And you don’t know what I’m looking for?”

“Something fishy?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ha ha,” Caspian says sarcastically. He swims around me in a slow circle, assessing how serious I am.

We’ve swum out to a cave we discovered as children. When we were little, we dubbed it Star Cave, because starfish of every color—yellow, purple, pink, orange, red—cover the rocky walls like wallpaper. It’s only accessible from underneath, so humans never come here, and it’s well within the Border line so it isn’t off-limits. Under the waves, the limestone is thick with soft lichen.

Once you break the surface, moonlight streams in through a small crevice in the mountainside. It plays off the walls and water, scattering in a million directions, making magic. The ceiling stretches high enough that both of us can sit comfortably on the rocky platform along one side. I can still stand up if I bend a bit, but Caspian, now a towering 6’3”, couldn’t if he wanted to. Luckily, with his tail in place, that isn’t a problem. We could never outgrow this cave—we’ve shared too many memories here. One wall still bears the drawings we scrawled as children, clumsy stick figures of humans on their mysterious legs. We’d wanted so much to be older, more grown up.

The day Caspian showed me his legs for the first time, he took me out here to our cave and brought a towel with him. Of course, by the time we got here it was soaked, and I kept asking him about it, but he wouldn’t say a word. He hoisted himself up onto the ledge, tied the towel around his waist, and squeezed his eyes shut. His silver scales—so much like my gold ones—transformed into two well-formed legs.

I’d looked on in awe, but even though his legs were so fascinating to me (so much thicker and more masculine with their light dusting of hair than my older sisters’ legs), I’d known I mustn’t touch them. I still haven’t.

My mind flashes to when Clay and I were sitting on the school bus, his hand on my thigh. I can still feel it resting there. But I can’t let either memory distract me now. The stakes are too high.

“Look, Caspian. I know I’m being vague. I can’t tell you much because I don’t want to put you in any danger.” That’s partly true. I want to protect Caspian. If any of this ever gets out, I won’t have Caspian’s family’s reputation more tarnished by sireny than it already is. But there’s another reason I can’t tell him that Melusine’s a siren. If I did, I’d have to tell him I’m one, too.

And he’d never speak to me again.

Maybe that sounds melodramatic, but it’s true. To Caspian, I’d seem no better than Adrianna, who condemned his whole family line to ridicule. And maybe I’m not. If what I’m doing got out, wouldn’t my family fall just as far? Maybe even farther, since we’re supposed to be the upright, moral figureheads of the Foundation. Of the whole land-dwelling Mer Community. I picture my parents and my sisters disgraced because of my actions. Little Amy, her face stained with the tears of rejection—shunned because of me.

But I can’t undo what I’ve done and I can’t stop doing it. Not until I find another way out. That means it’s even more important that I figure out what Melusine is plotting as soon as possible. Then I can stop her, release Clay, and put all of this behind me. Hopefully, Caspian will never have to know the whole story. And he’ll never have to hate me.

“All I can tell you,” I continue, “is that Melusine has access to ancient Mer magic and she’ll use it to hurt someone if we don’t stop her.”

“Do you know who?”

“A human named Clay. Maybe others, too.”

“Isn’t he her boyfriend?”

“Not anymore.”

“Look, Goldfish, I’m always here to help you, but I barely know these people. I know you go to school with them and all, but what does this even have to do with you?”

“I’m responsible for Clay. He’s … ” What? My friend? My soul mate? My victim? “My boyfriend.” Well, what else am I supposed to say?

He opens his mouth then closes it again. Then he opens it and says, “Oh.” He leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.”

“It’s sort of a new development.”

“Lia, I’m not judging, but … a human? I know the twins mess around with them, but actually dating one? If your parents found out they’d—”

“Murder me? Yeah, I’m aware. That’s why they can’t know.” I level my gaze at him. His eyes, shockingly blue even in the dim light, narrow for a fraction of a second. Then he nods once. He won’t tell them.

“Are you being safe?” he asks.

“Caspian! Clay and I are so not there yet.” He raises one eyebrow at me. “Oh! You mean with my tail … Yeah, my control’s good, and I’m being really careful. He has no idea I’m a Mermaid.”

I thought this would appease Caspian, but he still looks like he sucked on something sour and is trying to hide it.

“He won’t find out about Merfolk from me,” I say. “But if you don’t help me, he very well may find out from Melusine. I’ve been thinking, it’s common knowledge that her family has been
udell
for generations. Maybe she and her father aren’t as pro-Emergence as they claim. Maybe they’re secretly
udell
, too. Maybe they came up here because they’re plotting something.”

“I don’t judge people by their family’s reputations.”

I rest my hand on his tan forearm. “I’m not, believe me. But she’s done something … awful. Worse than awful.”

“But you won’t tell me what?”

“I can’t. Only that if we don’t stop her, she might do something worse. Something that would put all of us at risk.”

“It’s that serious?” he asks, his voice back to its usual measured tones.

“I think so, yes.”

“And you can’t tell the Foundation?”

I shake my head.

“If I started investigating her, I’d have to meet up with you a couple times a week to fill you in.” He pushes his wet, dirty blond hair back from his forehead. “Your new boyfriend wouldn’t mind that?”

“No boyfriend could ever stop me from spending time with you, Casp.” I look up at him, my eyes imploring. “Please? I really need you on this one.”

Caspian’s quiet for a long time. To a stranger, he might look like he’s stopped listening, like he’s tuning out the world. But I know better than to disturb him. Caspian always gets like this before he makes a decision—quiet, reflective. That’s why when he makes a choice, I can trust it’s the right one. Finally, he says, “Got a plan?”

“Dinner’s delicious, Mr. Nautilus,” Caspian says, adding another swordfish steak to his plate.

“Well, Em helped tonight,” my father says smiling.