tote, found her cell phone, and turned it on. Twenty missed calls in five minutes, plus a plethora of unread messages.
Oh, dear.
Dannika dialed MerMatch directly.
“MerMatch, this is Hazel.” The calm, organized voice of her assistant sounded efficient and helpful.
“Hi, Hazel. I’m sorry I missed your—”
“Oh. My. God. Dannika! Are you okay? Where were you? I called you a hundred times.”
“I know, I saw. What was the—”
“I thought those anti-mer Sons of Hercules got you. Found out your location and, I don’t know, sniped or bombed you.”
It was so sad that only a short time after the warriors had dared to reveal their existence to the modern world, a human terrorist organization had popped up to drive them back into the ocean.
“I was perfectly safe,” Dannika said.
But Hazel continued her litany of fears. “Or, worse, that Ciran showed up and finally bossed you back to Atlantis.”
Dannika laughed awkwardly in front of a shrub that smelled heavenly like all-spice. “Is being in charge really so bad?”
“Yes!”
“Hazel, you’re doing fabulous.”
“No, no, no. I am surviving. The water is up to my neck.”
“Hazel.”
“I can’t talk to important people, like you do, and make them see that we are the good guys. When are you coming back?”
“The final group arrived last night. We’ll finish filming today, and then I’ll go over the women’s profiles and see where they can meet.”
“And then you’ll be back?”
“Yes, more or less.”
“Thank. God. I cannot survive without you.”
“Hazel, you give me too much credit. You run the whole office even when I’m there. I stride in, pick up your files, and stride out. You’re capable of more than you think.”
Hazel laughed hysterically, which was her way of disagreeing.
Dannika could just picture her assistant combing nail-bitten fingers through her adorable chestnut brown hair, draining any drops from her third hazelnut latte, and polishing her cell phone screen on the lapel of her splotched cream suit. She only got manicures when Dannika made her, but it was an excellent way to feel nice and it rescued her cuticles.
“But why are you really calling?” Dannika asked.
“Oh. Yes.” Hazel sucked in a huge breath and released it. “Starr sent over more audio files of the Sons of Hercules planning an anti-mer attack. She tried processing them with different voice software to get rid of the distortion. I forwarded the file. I don’t know if it’ll make any difference, but maybe you’ll be able to recognize the leader now.”
“I’ll review it. Anything else?”
“Oh, yes. Your friend called about the dinner party tonight. He has big news.”
Her heart lifted again. “Yes?”
“He didn’t tell me. He said he’ll call back.”
“I’ll keep my phone close. Thank you so much, Hazel.”
“God, I hope you convince the senator to let mermen onto US soil again. Then you can meet the warriors where God intended: Right here in New York.”
Dannika chuckled and hung up.
The Sons of Hercules had bombed, shot, poisoned, kidnapped, and committed biological warfare against the warriors. Some attacks had succeeded, and others had failed. But their most vivid success had been in lobbying. For an organization that had started out radicalizing isolated, socially maladapted young men on college campuses, they’d grown into a lobbying machine that had driven fear into the hearts of politicians. The US had recently become the first nation to close its borders to new merman applicants.
Which meant that only a few warriors—Ciran, Lotar, and the others who’d already surfaced and claimed their mates—could enter the country. New warriors such as Gailen and Tial could not.
Not that the government could police a hundred thousand miles of shoreline. But it meant that Dannika would not invite all of her single warriors to a big speed dating event in Central Park, either.
Bermuda was just two hours by plane from Boston, a little farther from New York. But the fishhook-shaped cluster of islands, fifteen miles in length and only three miles wide, were a British Territory. They didn’t care what the US did or didn’t allow.
Of course, Dannika didn’t want to test their goodwill. The Sons of Hercules had attacked across the globe.
But so long as they were still willing, what better location to meet with mermen than in paradise?
The diverse islands enjoyed milder tropical weather because it was so far north of the Caribbean. Yesterday, she’d had to stop filming due to howling winds, thunderous rain, and screaming birds. Such storms, along with the treacherous coral ringing the islands, had once given Bermuda the nickname of the “Devil’s Isle.” But more days were like today. Balmy wind