Fathom (Mermaids of Montana #3) - Elsa Jade Page 0,69

darkness. She struggled through suffocating shadows, like the time she’d been doing her laps at the community pool, where some kids had been playing with a rope toy. Somehow the toy had wrapped around her ankles, its sodden weight dragging her down, and for the longest moment, she’d feared she would drown in the over-chlorinated concrete tub. The surface of the pool had been a broken mirror above her head, too far away for her flailing hands to reach, nothing to hold onto.

She’d almost taken a breath, and then she would’ve drowned for sure. Or would she have? Maybe her vestigial gills would’ve opened up, blooming in the water like an anemone, freaking out those kids worse than her splashing had when she finally struggled free of the surprise bonds and surfaced with an annoyed shout.

Maybe she would’ve known years ago what she was if she’d taken that deep breath.

But honestly, once again panic seemed like the more reasonable response.

Still, she kept her breathing steady and her eyes closed as waited for her disorientation to pass. Though she’d never been kidnapped before, she’d heard enough stories at the hippie shops where she worked and had snarked with Sting often enough to know alien abduction when she’d been abducted by aliens.

Not opening her eyes, she sent out the most tentative ping like Sting had taught her. At first, nothing, but then a hazy image formed on the back of her closed lids, like the lowest resolution old-time photo ever. But it was clear enough that she recognized the interior of a spaceship, the unfamiliar yet somehow universal industrial lines of a working vessel. And most importantly, she was alone. She was still wearing the pajamas she’d donned before meeting her mother in the music room for happy hour, courtesy of Thomas. She still tasted the sex on the beach that she’d ordered—with a wistful sigh—but now the orange juice was a sour tang on the back of her tongue. Though she was cold and aching all over, she wasn’t sure if the ache was from the cold or if the cold was holding back a worse pain.

Her mother… The last glimpse they’d shared, she’d been stuffed under the piano and Lana had been running away.

Once again, running away.

But what other choice did she have? At least the home invaders had followed her, leaving her mother behind and ignored. Cretarni, she knew, although she’d never seen Tritona’s second sentient race in person before. They were sized more like Earthers than Tritonans, maybe not surprising considering they were the terrestrial species while the Tritonans were adapted for their watery existence. But the way they bristled with weaponry and armor, mostly they were like all the worst images she’d ever seen of invaders across the world.

But why had they taken her?

The Tritonesse wanted nothing to do with her, so she was useless as a negotiating point or even a straight-up hostage. She didn’t know any secrets, didn’t have any connections, no power…

Well, she did have that one power.

But the one thing she had was the one thing that had ruined her life on Earth, gotten her kicked off Tritona, and would likely kill her soon. Nobody wanted that.

Now that she was conscious, the chill was too much to ignore, and shivers wracked her. When nothing changed and no one responded, she let herself curl into a ball and then finally sit up to minimize contact with the cold plasteel deck.

She might as well not have opened her eyes since the room was completely lightless. Bastards, keeping her in the dark.

She hazarded another tiny ping. This time the view was clearer. And apparently even spaceships had broom closets? The room was too small to be anything else but storage.

Or maybe a prison cell?

She swallowed hard, grimacing at the nasty linger of alcohol and the dryness of her throat. How long had she been out?

Pushing stiffly to her feet, she shuffled forward, one hand outstretched since she wasn’t quite sure whether she trusted her echolocation. Her fingertips met the wall, and she trailed to one side, seeking the outlined panel she’d seen/heard. Had to be a door, right? Or maybe it was an airlock and she was about to be ejected into space. That would suck.

Literally.

She felt around the seam, probing the minimal crack.

Ugh, considering this was an alien abduction, she wished she hadn’t thought of probing cracks.

Even if she’d had some tool besides her silky pjs—somewhere along the way between the Wavercrest estate and this