Tangled Tides (The Sea Monster Memoirs) (2 page)

I
didn't know where I was. When I opened my eyes to a sea of aquamarine, I mentally processed the water surrounding me. I was underwater, yet not drowning. Breathing felt normal. Definitely a dream.

The slab of rock I was lying on jabbed into my back. Two dolphins spun around each other a few feet above me, stirring the water. Strands of my hair, the color of a Yellow Tang fish, floated around my face. Air bubbles drifted past me as I sat up.

Realizing I was naked from the waist up, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down. What the crap? My boobs were still there—not that I had much curvage to brag about—but my skin was covered with shiny drawings of intricate twisting vines and symbols that looked like glowing tattoos. Sleeves of copper leaves crept up my arms, connecting with a maze of artwork that spread across my chest and ended just below my stomach. A golden tail lay stretched out in front of me where my legs should be. I dug my fingers into it, expecting the pain to wake me from my dream, but instead I felt slick scales dig under my nails. I touched my stomach and forearms, but my golden skin, if it was still called skin, no longer felt human—it was too satiny, too slippery. It reminded me of the time my uncle and I petted stingrays at the aquarium.

I bobbed my head back and forth, trying to figure out what my imagination had created. I looked up, down and side-to-side, but the water forced me to move in slow motion. Lack of sunlight indicated I was deep in the ocean, but somehow I could see clearly. Plants in vibrant shades of purple, green and yellow swayed back and forth. Coral in neon hues of pink, orange and blue stretched like crooked fingers, reaching for the fish swimming around them.

A ghostly pale merman with blue-black hair and the same color tail swam toward me. He slithered through the water like a menacing snake, stopping several inches from where I sat.

Do you know where you are?
His words were clear, but his lips didn't move.

Did I just hear his thoughts?
I wondered.

Yes, it's how we communicate.
Again, his mouth stayed closed. His voice was only in my head. That could only happen in dreams.
Do you know where you are?

My yellow hair floated around my face again. I pushed the strands away.
Yes, I'm in a crazy—yet kind of cool—dream.

Dream?

This.
I motioned to everything around us.
Imagining a world underwater where people are part fish.

He blinked a few times, then his pale lips turned upward into an almost-smile.
I assure you, you are not dreaming. This,
he opened his hands to his sides,
is your new home.

Memories of the storm came rushing back to me: pushing the mermaid panel through the house, the stranger in the low-hanging shorts, the feeling of being in a trance, Mr. Mysterious saying he would take me someplace safe.

My hands trembled. My breath came so fast I started to hyperventilate—except I breathed in water, which should have been impossible. I felt lightheaded, like I might float away. The water surrounding me seemed to pulse with every rapid beat of my heart. I gripped the rock under me, trying to cling to something solid—something real.

"No!" I screamed, slamming my hands against the rock. But my yelling came out like muffled meowing, and trying to slam something underwater didn't have nearly the effect it did on land.

My boyfriend had told me horror stories about merfolk. He said they kidnapped humans and stole their memories, then used them as play toys. Over the past week he had been stuck on the topic, warning me to stay away from them. I thought it was his way of making fun of my uncle's obsessive art collection. Merfolk couldn't be real. People didn't live underwater!

I took a few deep breaths, proving without a doubt that I could breathe underwater. It wasn't a dream. This was actually happening. But accepting it as real would be insane. Had I gone insane? Could that be the explanation?

According to Rownan, merfolk were conniving and mean-spirited. The guy floating in front of me looked like he fit that description. Had I really been kidnapped and turned into a monster? If so, I wasn't going down without a fight.

Are you feeling alright?
Creepy Guy asked.

Of course not! I'm a mermaid, and you're the finhole who kidnapped me.

His eyes widened. Maybe he thought he deserved more respect but, like my mother, I've never been good at controlling my temper.

What is a finhole?
he asked.

An asshole, but custom-tailored for you.

He shook his head.
That doesn't even make anatomical sense.

Whatever. Makes sense to me.

A school of orange fish swam by us. It concerned me that I could hear them humming a high pitched tune, but I had a hunch that many bizarre things existed in this world—a world I'd been brought to against my will. I ignored the fish and refocused on Creepy Guy.

Between his nearly-black eyes, corpselike skin and sharply angled chin, he looked like the Sea Devil of Death. I didn't know which emotion had more control over me: fear of being alone with this ghoulish, twice-my-size guy, or shocking disbelief that I was deep in the ocean, with a tail, having conversations through my mind.

Creepy Guy glanced to the east. What the—? How did I know which way was east? In every direction I saw nothing but turquoise water, colorful coral and plants, then more water. Nothing indicated which direction was which, but I felt like I had a built-in compass.

Your guardian will be here momentarily. Until then I suggest we refrain from communicating.
He floated away from me.

I am eighteen. I don't need a guardian.
I packed the thought with plenty of attitude, but he didn't flinch or respond. No way was some gothic-looking freak going to ignore me, or hand me over to some guardian.
Tell me how to get back to my island!

Still no reply. I swam over to him, reaching up to poke his shoulder, but a rush of water churned around us and the current pushed me backward. When the bubbles cleared, a second merguy floated eye-to-eye with him.

The newcomer had blue hair that almost matched the water around us. His repulsive tail and fins were a shade lighter and iridescent. He looked colorful compared to the other guy. I swam forward and floated beside them, but neither turned to look at me.

Symbols, scrolls and designs similar to mine covered their opalescent skin in shades of silver, black and blue. I blinked several times, trying to figure out if the artwork was shimmering or if the water created the illusion. Regardless, they looked like freaks. And I had become a freak too. My uncle could never see me like this.

My uncle. Dear God, what would I tell him? What would Uncle Lloyd think when he got home and found me missing? He'd spaz out! How long had I been under water? Hours? Days? Weeks? Stress was the last thing he needed in his condition. I had to find a way home.

Looking up, I watched the indigo merman swim away. His dark tail and hair snaked up and down as he faded into the distance. The other monster stared at me. He was the guy from the house—Treygan.

Hello, Yara.
His eyes matched his Smurf-blue hair.

I crossed my arms over my plant-motif chest. Why had I trusted some stranger who appeared out of nowhere? Just because he was helpful and attractive? How stupid could I be? I felt like crying, if it was even possible to cry under water.

This guy—or whatever he was—wasn't worthy of my tears. I steeled myself and met his gaze again.
You did this to me. I trusted you, invited you into my uncle's home, and you put me in some kind of trance and kidnapped me.

His head slowly turned from side-to-side. I couldn't tell if it was on purpose, or because of the water. Everything around me seemed to be in constant motion.

I didn't kidnap you. I saved you.

I slapped him. I couldn't stop myself. But slapping didn't work any better than slamming. I only brushed my hand against his cheek. He looked amused. Frustrated, I turned my back to him.

That was supposed to be a slap across your face!
I mentally shouted.
How dare you bring me here? I didn't agree to this. I have loved ones who need me. They'll be worried. You can't just take someone from their home and—

His hand touched my shoulder.

I spun around to face him.
Don't touch me.

He squinted, but didn't look away.
I wanted to make sure you were alright.

Are you deaf? I just told you, I hate you for bringing me here. You had no right to do this to me.

Something about his chest caught my attention. Had his tattoos moved and changed color? I stared at them, expecting to see it again, but he waved his fingers in front of my eyes, breaking my focus.

I can't hear your thoughts if I can't see your eyes. If you thought something while your back was turned to me, then yes, I was deaf to it.

Oh. I didn't realize—
I shut my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts without having them overheard by my new worst enemy. He saved me from the hurricane? I would have rather drowned, or suffered a fatal head wound from flying debris—anything but being taken from my home and turned into a fish.

My boyfriend hadn't been kidding. The evil mermonsters he warned me about were real. Why hadn't I listened to him?

Where was Rownan? Was he okay? Had the hurricane hit his town? We were supposed to go on vacation together to celebrate my birthday, but now he'd be disgusted by me. My eyes flew open.
I need to find my boyfriend.

Your boyfriend? I didn't know you had a boyfriend.

You don't know anything about me!

He spun halfway around, then faced me again.
This boyfriend of yours, what is his name?

None of your business.

His hands balled into fists.
How do you expect me to help you find him if I don't know his name?

If I tell you, do you promise to take me back to Eden's Hammock? He's probably there, worried to death.

I promise to take you home.

Deal. His name is Rownan.

The chest thing happened again, and this time I got a good look at it. The skin around his tattoos changed from pearly white to dark silver.
Has this Rownan claimed the title of your boyfriend?

My heart fluttered. We had fought over this issue.
He doesn't like labels.

Of course he doesn't,
Treygan scoffed.

You don't know him. Keep your snobby remarks to yourself.

Does he have spiky brown hair and a beard that matches it?

I lifted my chin.
He has a goatee, not a beard.

Does he wear a long, white coat?

I looked away. Rownan's coat. I had never seen him without it, and never seen anything—or anyone—more gorgeous. He had such a cool style. It was one of the million attractive things about him.
Yes. How do you know him?

Treygan's entire chest turned metallic gray and the tribal rope around his stone anchor tattoo definitely moved.
Rownan is a lying, cunning cheat—who happens to be my half-brother.

Y
ara repeated the words, "
He's lying,
" in various tones: certain, doubtful, questioning and back to certain. The sooner she mastered our form of communication, the better off we would both be.

Merfolk do not lie,
I countered calmly.

Ha! That's a lie to cover up all your other lies! Merfolk are known for their evil tricks.

Delmar thought he had drained her of any sea creature knowledge. However, it seemed she remembered being educated—or
mis
educated—about our kind.

Unraveling the intricate knots of Rownan's lies would take a while, so I made myself comfortable on a nearby boulder. When I looked up, Yara was rambling.

No way is that guy related to Rownan. No freakin' way. He really needs a haircut. How is he sitting underwater? This stupid way of life makes no sense—