Fathom (Mermaids of Montana #3) - Elsa Jade Page 0,25
she enjoying the rush as much as he did?
Kicking up his effort just a notch, he rocketed them through the depths. She did finally make a noise, a little squeal of shock, as they reached the rocky entrance of the aqueducts and he zoomed them through. He slowed again, more for her comfort than his own need since his echolocation gave him a clear view of the tunnel ahead even beyond what his bioluminescence and eyes could distinguish.
She was a good passenger, tucking herself close where the rock walls narrowed, instinctively angling her body to make them more hydrodynamic together. He’d carried trained, hardened, Tritonyri warriors into battle a few times, and none of them had fitted themselves to him so perfectly. But the little nul’ah-wys was no fighter. She’d made it clear she feared and hated those hints of violence.
Despite the warmth he kept around them, a thin, cool needle of cold arrowed through his heart. She’d fled his world, wanted nothing to do with him. She was only with him now because he’d lied to her and threatened to expose his alien self to her world.
She would be so angry when he overpowered her and took her away again against her will.
For once, the thought of bloodshed did not excite him, not even the part of him modified from the most savage predators in Tritona’s deeps.
When they came to a widened chamber, he propelled them up out of the water onto a rocky ledge. The bubble of air was big enough for them both to stand upright, and he released her immediately.
But she clung to him for another moment before finally taking a step back to spit the gill into her palm. “That was great!” She gazed up at him, her eyes bright with his reflected skinshine. “Like the best amusement park water ride ever.”
He grunted. “Earth has such things?”
“Just because Earthers can’t breathe under water doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate a dunking every once in a while.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “Although we haven’t been the best stewards of our oceans, I’m afraid.”
“It’s hard to care for a thing that you don’t understand.”
She shook her head, and the locks of her soaking hair began to curl around her shoulders once again, indomitable. “Maybe you’re right, but…I think we can love a mystery too. Not everything has to be spelled out in black and white.”
That wasn’t what he’d been told. The Tritonesse had made it very clear that he was a monster and the Tritonyri were heroes. His only purpose had been serving as the blackness they needed to fight their war against the Cretarni.
With those battles won, what was he now?
“Catch your breath,” he said. “Then we’ll continue on.”
She angled her face farther up, studying the cavern ceilings where eons of dripping water and mineralization had made fanciful shapes of liquid stone. “Before the symptoms of the Wavercrest syndrome got me, I paid the bills by charting astrology for people trying to figure out which way to go in their lives.”
“Steer around suns. Don’t get too close to black holes. Bring more plankton and pie than you think you’ll need for the journey so you don’t get hungry and end up eating something you shouldn’t.”
“I…” She squinted at him, as if his skinshine wasn’t quite bright enough. “Okay, yeah, that’s probably better advice than anything I ever gave.” She let out a little laugh that didn’t move her breasts or crinkle her eyes. “To be honest, even though I made a living off astrology, I wouldn’t have believed back then how much the stars were going to matter to me.”
“If you didn’t believe in stars, how did you chart them?”
“Astrology isn’t the same as astronomy. A lot of people think the kind of places I worked only sold drugs and delusions and distractions—crystals with metaphysical properties, cards and coins and tea cups for divination, bumper stickers to bring on the revolution.”
He tilted his head. “Bumper stickers? Should Tritona have used these during the war?”
“Er, no. Probably vinyl doesn’t stick as well to spaceship and submarines.” She shrugged, her e-suit creaking softly. “But what do I know? Nothing really clicked in my life until Marisol contacted me about Wavercrest syndrome and I found out that I’m descended from extraterrestrials. Now it all makes sense.” Her wry laugh was even creakier than the tight fabric of her suit. “Pretty sad when alien abduction only makes your life better.”
“You went to Tritona voluntarily,” he reminded her. “You weren’t abducted.”