Fish Out of Water Page 13

  A polite way to put it. They would be furious that a dirt-dweller was giving advice to the Queen of the Pure. I felt a dark, angry cancer well up in me. Those assholes. I’m gonna-

  Lecanora put a steadying had on my arm, even though we were telepathing. Ransha, no. Look at me. I did as I was told, locking eyes with her beautiful blue-grey ones. They were serious and I knew I was about to be reprimanded. You and I need to work some of these things out. We will not do it if you are rushing about, headstrong and angry. You need to wait. You need to think. You need to be patient.

  Patient? I don’t do patient. But I looked at her eyes again, heavy with sadness and at once hopeful and trusting. Okay, so maybe I could learn.

  So I was working on patient when my antennae started to twitch.

  My head snapped up and I was trying to sniff out whatever it was that was wrong. Because something was definitely wrong. I swept the scene. It all looked good, beautiful even. The crazy glittering diamonds, throwing gleeda light throughout the natural cathedral. Hundreds of creatures, laughing and sensing. Celebrating.

  My eyes flicked to the jagged rip. For a wild moment, it almost seemed to pulse. I looked urgently at Lecanora. Can you tell me about what happened yesterday? The rip?

  She shook her head. I can’t explain. It was something that’s never happened to me before. Somehow, I knew it was going to happen, seconds before. I don’t know how. I had just enough time to get the child before she was too far. But it was hard. Like holding back the tide.

  Huh, holding back the tide. Like The Triad were trying to do. So Lecanora was changing too. Things were happening to her. Like they were to me. I thought about what Mom had said. Evolution. Another Awakening, to begin with the most remarkable.

  And then another penny dropped. So how do Zida and co know about Imogen? If the mind thing was done to everyone?

  Lecanora looked genuinely puzzled. I really do not know.

  I resolved right there that we need to find out. I started to mentally list off tasks.

  One. Question the girls some more.

  Two. Track down Shower Boy again to find out why he was in Dirtwater and what he knew about my blonde watch-keeper. I still didn’t know his name, we didn’t do much talking on the surface, but it wouldn’t be hard to find out down here. There’s no such thing as under the radar in Aegira.

  Three. Talk to Epaste, and maybe the other Triad members as well.

  Norsha, is there anything else I need to know?

  I watched Lecanora thinking carefully, sorting through the pieces of what she knew to assess whether she’d missed anything. Thorough, diligent. I don’t think so, Rania.

  I tried again, going for casual but not sure how I was going to achieve it. Especially when my danger radar had started beeping like an alarm clock. I decided I was going to go scout out that rip. As soon as I had what I needed from Lecanora. Any buzz about the watch-keepers? I mean, they still out there, doing their thing?

  She looked curious, even though I’d avoided saying “any get murdered recently?” Of course. They’re always there, Rania. You know that. Dozens on rotation at any time.

  So she didn’t know about Blondie. And if she didn’t know, good chance no-one did.

  But it’s strange you ask, because Imogen’s best friend is a watch-keeper. Cleedaline. They were inseparable. And one of the theories… before the Triad, was that Imogen had…

  She trailed off, and I was confused. Had what?

  Oh, it’s so silly. I don’t believe it for a moment. I knew Imogen and she was sensible.

  One word that would never be on my tombstone.

  Some people said Imogen and Cleedaline were lovers. And that Imogen might have taken her own life. Out of sadness. Missing Cleedaline after she left Aegira and went to the land.

  Huh. I wasn’t buying, on a number of fronts. Firstly, I’ve mentioned Aegirans don’t go for the grand love story. So a suicide over an affair just does not ring true. Secondly, same-sex relationships are rare, ’cause the whole focus of unions is on the creation of young Aegirans.

  But most of all, the real chill racing along my spine was because I knew now with this sickening certainty that Cleedaline was my Blondie. The girl with my name on her thigh. She’d come looking for me because somehow she knew that her friend had gone missing.

  But why had she come to me? And how did she know Imogen was gone, if she was land-dwelling? Telepathy only reaches so far. That’s why Aegira sends heralds to the watch-keepers.

  My heart shrivelled inside me. She’d been killed, coming to me. Coming to me for help. Someone knew. Someone was one step ahead of her. And that someone tried to kill me too.

  But why? Maybe in case I knew that she had come?

  Or maybe so no-one else could enlist my help?

  Or some other reason I couldn’t work out for the life of me?

  My head was spinning and I was about to head off to explore why my danger radar kept pinging when a deep voice with a gravelly edge interrupted.

  “Hello, sisters,” it drawled like a well-mannered, roguish serpent, with that hint of an accent I couldn’t quite pin down. “You fled too quickly, Rania. May I join you both?”

  And there he was again.

  The guy I danced with. And danced with the dolphins with.

  And held in my arms in Missy’s dressing room.

  And swam away from at a million nautical miles an hour once the dolphins stopped dancing and I regained my sanity.

  Lecanora was looking at him like he was the devil incarnate, but he didn’t seem to mind. He met both sets of eyes, mine and hers, like a guy used to vilification, and relaxed about it.

  But it was my eyes he couldn’t let go of. Again.

  He was holding onto them like he owned them, and I didn’t want to break the stare either. After a few seconds I realized neither of us had been speaking. Why did I feel, in every pore of my body, like I knew this guy? Even though I still didn’t know his name.

  “So, lovely dance, Carragheen,” Lecanora started, clearing her throat.

  Carragheen, Carragheen. The name was stirring some long-buried memory inside me. My poor brain, so overworked from the high drama of the last couple of days, was whirring and creaking into action. The name meant something to me.

  “Rania, it seems you’ve already met Kraken’s son.”

  Mother of Aegir, surely not.

  I suddenly grabbed hold of the slippery edge of a memory. Carragheen. Son of Kraken and Shighsa. It pained me to admit it, but I could now see the resemblance to his overbearing father. The blonde hair so dark, almost red-gold. His smile with that carnivorous edge. More vampire than mermaid. He was like bad news you can’t help but want to read anyway.

  This was some hot son-of-a-crazy-Priest.

  Carragheen was looking like he wished Lecanora hadn’t mentioned his lineage.

  “Ah, Lecanora,” he shook his head, dismissing her. “I am Shighsa’s son too.”

  I was fascinated. Carragheen was trying to be polite but I could tell it was not his usual thing. He was holding my eyes like he was holding my hand. Intimate, private. Why was he here? He was out of place. A dark force among creatures of light. His discomfort crackled in front of us like an electrical storm at sea. He made Doug look as reliable as the boy next door.

  I was surprised by both the tremor of guilt I feel at the thought of Doug, and by the fact that I suddenly couldn’t remember for the life of me why I had swum away from this guy so fast seven miles up. Because right now he might have looked badder than bad but he also looked good enough to eat.

  “Princess, I understand I owe you a debt of gratitude. And I owe Rania some answers. I was wondering whether the two of you would both like to come by my pool later.”

  I was about to fall all over myself to say hell yes and what debt? when Lecanora spoke first and saved me from breaking all the rules of acting too keen.

  “Thank you, Carragheen, very kind. But we have some things to do.”

  Bef
ore I could squeak a protest, something happened that made it all redundant.

  The sacred place filled with blood.

  At least, the water was suddenly a deep crimson. Like someone threw a switch to turn on some macabre night light. Within seconds, The Eye echoed with screams of scores of freaked-out members of the ocean tribes. And one word pressed into my head from all their brains.

  Bloodtide.

  I remembered Mom’s words, about how Manos made the sea run red with Aegir’s blood.

  Before the seekers could give instructions, the stampede was on. Hundreds of bodies swimming, spinning, sliding, pirouetting. All upwards, to leave The Eye as quickly as possible.

  The fear was infectious. To creatures of the deep, the sight of blood in the water is the universal call-sign of the predator. Like the smell of burning flesh to humans on the land.

  But Carragheen’s face barely moved. He simply grabbed one hand of mine and one of Lecanora’s. Come. We must be far away from here.

  We didn’t argue. As he pulled us behind him like we were feather-light and kicked up towards the mouth of The Eye, I realized he was seriously strong. And fast. We were passing everyone. So I was surprised when he suddenly dropped our hands and barked a command into our brains. Go. I’m right behind you.

  Again, we did as he said, but I couldn’t resist a peek behind, and then I saw why he had stopped. A young Leigon, with the face a cherub but the body of a small elephant, had become separated from its parents, and was swimming pitifully in circles, barking small cries of distress. Carragheen wrapped his arms around its middle and pulled it with him, murmuring as he went.

  He saw me watching. Swim, he commanded.

  Chapter Seven

  Whirling And Silence

  Carragheen’s Pool, Aegira

  “They’re saying it was a biological event.” Carragheen turned back, throwing off the small shells which had rested at his temples as though they disgusted him. He was shirtless and a killer set of abs almost distracted me from the fact that I was so not buying it.

  “All the channels?” Lecanora and Carragheen both frowned at me.

  Ah, that’s right. This is Aegira. Only one channel. Eat your heart out, North Korea.

  “Let me have a go.” I snatched the shells up, accidentally brushing against the hard calluses of his palms. His hands were warm, like on the surface. So strange, for a merman.

  I brought the pads to my temples, where they affixed themselves like blood-seeking barnacles. I focused, deep. Mass telepathy is more personal than TV, because there’s still an element of interpretation, but the risk is small in such a homogenous population. This recording was voiced by a mermaid who looked like Martha Stewart. There was the briefest of visuals of the blood-red Eye, and the screaming, squirming life desperate to escape it. But no sound.

  Pictures of chaos are one thing. But sound connects straight with the heart.

  Anyway, the visual then switched to images of the rest of Aegira, the circles of golden structures looping gracefully around The Eye. It looked as tranquil and perfect as the first time I saw it, over twenty years ago, although the voice-over was telling me the images were captured just an hour ago, immediately after the incident in The Eye. No hint of crimson chaos, just the dark safety of the ocean floor, lit by the warm glow of Aegira.

  I drank it in, even though I’d seen the real thing just moments before, as we swam over.

  Aegira the Beautiful.

  The city looked like something that should grace the roof of the Sistine Chapel. The buildings were built with rolling grace and flourish, to mimic the waves, in honor of the billow maiden queens. There are few sharp angles. Even those buildings that soar so high they seem to strain towards the surface, like The Palace, are still rounded and feminine.

  The voice was bringing home the point made by the footage.

  “While the anomaly was significant within The Eye, none of the red substance infiltrated the city. Scientists undertook immediate testing and confirmed the taint was indeed blood, of unknown origin. However, they have categorically concluded that the event was simply an unhappy coincidence. It seems that a flock of dead sea creatures may have become sucked into the walls of The Eye, where they bled out. The blood entered The Eye through the recent tear.”

  Martha Mermaid’s voice became a little sterner.

  “Aegiran experts are of the view that both the rip and the death of the creatures was the result of ocean warming, attributable to lack of care taken by humans in recent centuries which has resulted in severe mismanagement of the delicate ecosystem of earth and sea.”

  She let up a little and I could tell she was about to boss me around.

  Mermaids are so predictable.

  “Aegiran citizens and friends are asked to stay away from The Eye, which is officially off limits until further notice. The Queen sends her prayers and asks you to be of good cheer.”

  My crapometer started to whine at me. How on earth could any scientist know all that with any certainty, so quickly? I glanced over at the Leigon child, who was napping fretfully on the soft weed of Carragheen’s floor. “You know, you guys could really use a little freedom of the press.”

  Carragheen laughed darkly, but Rania looked confused again.

  “A sectarian press assumes different interests. In Aegira, we are all one mind.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her, and pulled her far out of Carragheen’s hearing range. “Really? You sure about that? Even The Triad? Even whoever took Imogen?”

  Carragheen looked at me curiously. Surely he couldn’t have heard? He looked watchful. “Did you hear what the people were saying, as we passed over?”

  “Yes,” Lecanora conceded. “Manos.”

  “It’s probably just people getting spooked,” I assured her. “Don’t forget Aegir threw that veil of secrecy over Aegira, so no-one who wished it harm could find it. Not even Manos.”

  “That assumes, of course,” Carragheen drawled. “That no-one shows him the way.”

  Interesting idea. “You think he has help?”

  “I don’t believe in fairy tales.” Carragheen’s dark eyes were still hooded. “In my experience there are enough bad things in real life.” He pulled up short in front of me, standing too close, making too much eye contact, and picked up my arm, where the plasticy ugliness of my angry red scar was like some crazy bracelet. He ran his fingers over it. “I guess you know that too.”

  I snatched my arm away. Normally I don’t like to be touched there but for some reason when he did it, I liked it too much. His touch was like some kind of balm.

  He looked into me. “Does it hurt?”

  “You know, where I come from, you offer a girl a drink before starting the foreplay.”

  Carragheen found a place deep inside my head to plant a single, illicit thought: If you think that’s foreplay, you’ve been dating the wrong fish.

  I had to fight to ensure my face didn’t reveal the deep, hot burn the comment set off somewhere below my stomach. “Okay, so yeah, it hurts. But not as much as the nightmares.”

  Oh God, I am so bad at small talk.

  “What do your dreams tell you of this?” He swept his arms in a wide arc.

  “Fishing for compliments?” I knew he was referring to Aegira, and all that was happening, but I went for flattery because I didn’t know what to say. “Great place.”

  The Princess snorted beside me. At least, it would have been a snort if she weren’t so delicate. And beautiful. And a princess.

  We stood silently on the sandy floor, and for the first time since fleeing here, I took in Carragheen’s home. It was a low-roofed structure which looked as though it had been a storehouse for food in another life. It was decked out like a beautiful, mysterious reef, with seating made from enormous shells and the tangled fingers of mammoth pieces of driftwood. Huge, electronic, wave-screens cycled through pictures of all the species of the ocean, while hidden technology created an ever-renewing roof of bubbles, like a mesmerizing sky.


  Every now and then one of the bubbles made it down, to settle on my nose or hair before exploding softly. The size and speed of the bubbles seemed to vary with the music. Large bubbles overlapped and popped slowly, like child’s playthings in time with the dark background mix. It was leesatra music – a kind of harp that messes with the vibrations of the water to make deep groans and sighs that sound like the love songs of sea mammals. Whale song meets the blues. I knew I needed to get on and ask Carragheen about Dirtwater, and Blondie, now that the immediate danger of the blood in the Eye seemed to have passed.

  But I was just too curious. “What is this place? Is this really where you live?” It seemed so grand for someone’s house, even in Aegira, where these things matter.

  “Yes, I do. But it’s also where people come to prepare for The Pool.”

  Uh oh. Sounded kinda kinky. Knew he was too good to be true. Okay, so what was it? Swinging? Weirder? Darker? I tried to be cool. “Ah, yes, you mentioned that, back at the wedding. What is it?”

  He looked right into me.

  Oh, Ran help me, don’t look at me like that. I don’t know you, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Don’t look at me like we’re accomplices.

  Lecanora snorted again and looked put out. She planted words deep into my brain. Rania, listen. Carragheen is Kraken’s shame. He is… intemperate. Some even say… Even telepathing she lowered her voice. …warm-blooded. He should have been a priest. It was expected. But he became a farmer. A farmer! A Gadulan boy whose perfect voice had shaken the very foundations of Aegira. The son of the High Priest. And that is just the beginning-

  “Princess.” Carragheen said, slow and endlessly patient. “What are you afraid of?”

  A third snort, this time accompanied by words. “It is a place to rouse people,” she hissed. “To make them stirred up, and afraid.”

  “No.” His tone was sharp. “It’s neither of those things. It is simply a place to feel.”