CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Warnings to friends

Sylvie sighed as she watched the crowd outside her window. They were so much easier to see with the trailer gone, and most had set up to try and catch a peek through her windows. Reporters, tourists, little kids, old grandparents and who knew who else seemed to be out there with some form of camera or other trying to snap her picture or gathered just because of the excitement. The agents kept them back past a hundred yards and occasionally police would try to break them up and move them along, but it didn’t seem to do much good. The better-off people and the reporters simply went further back and climbed on top of their vans or trucks and put huge lenses on their cameras; one woman had a lens so large that Sylvie thought she might be taking pictures of her fleas from her post on her car.

Of course, like at any large gathering of people, there were those who had come to try and start trouble in their bored lives. People walked up and down the street waving signs proclaiming the end times had come, others said that she had to be a witch in disguise and should be burned, and here and there person would try to light a sign or flag or t-shirt that had her picture or name on it on fire.

It was madness, insanity. Sylvie couldn’t understand how people could live with themselves destroying other people’s property and demanding someone’s death.

Not that the troublemakers got what they bargained on; many had gotten used to large cities or towns where the law was on their side proclaiming they had a right for free speech no matter their invective. They’d never encountered a town that had suffered the ravages of war and the deaths of friends and family against folk that were the stuff of nightmare and truly feared. Townsfolk tore signs and shirts from stunned hands, doused fire and lighter alike with icy water or Gatorade and walked off, or called the motels and hotel and gave their descriptions so that they were immediately expulsed from their rooms, or evicted from their campsites, or harassed until they left in bitter defeat. Others stood around in the crowd with their rifles, handguns or shotguns clearly visible, waving signs supporting Sylvie and Taryn, talking quietly amongst themselves, or simply standing there. Their presence unnerved the others so much that actual violence was pretty much non-existent in the crowd.

Sylvie let the edge of the blinds fall back down again and turned around in her living room; cushions lay scattered on the floor, the TV blared ceaselessly as commercials and shows became so much blurred static in her memory that she didn’t even notice them anymore. There were dirty dishes from breakfast and dinner and her guns sat gleaming on her cleaning station, polished so many times that they almost sparkled in the light.

I’ve got to get out of here, she thought half-frantically. I’m starting to go crazy like this.

The conversation she’d had with Taryn two weeks ago filled her ears, and she thought once more about asking her dad to go with her up to the lake. She’d even suffer the horse trailer and the bad memories again just for a chance to be released from her prison.

Movement upstairs told her that her parents were finally up (they’d been sleeping in a lot more to compensate for their ceaseless watches at night), and she’d have a chance to put her plan to convince them into action.

With a burst of energy, she hurried through the living room; cleaning, organizing and straightening. She didn’t have time to vacuum, but she did put her cleaning kit away, get the dishes into the dishwasher, and put the cushions away.

By the time her parents came downstairs, all signs of the mess had vanished and she stood next to the kitchen with a smile on her own face.

“Morning!” she said cheerfully.

“Morning.” Her parents grunted, looking worn and exhausted. For a moment, Sylvie could feel a flicker of doubt about her plans; her parents were not in much shape to travel anymore, not that she could stop them from accompanying her, but they might not be willing to go, and so not let her go either.

“How was your night?” Sylvie asked carefully.

“Quiet.” Her mother said wearily, sitting down at the table. She hardly looked like she slept at all.

“What time did you guys go to bed?” Sylvie asked sternly. Hang it all, if her parents wore themselves out acting childish, she’d let them hear it! That’s why they had agents out in the front and back yard for!

“I dunno, six I think?” her father yawned. It was nine now.

“All right, that’s it.” Sylvie said firmly. “You are both going to bed at a decent hour from now on, even if I have to carry you there myself! You guys, that’s why we have agents at our house day in and day out! So you don’t have to stand continuous watch over me.”

There came a chorus of “yes, but…” and “I know sweetie, but we…” and others, but Sylvie wouldn’t have any of it. Irritably she waved them down.

“No. We are done living like we need to expect being attacked every second of every day. The whole state is on alert, and there are more bodyguards outside than there are around a Saudi billionaire.”

“There is always a chance that they might miss something.” Her father said stubbornly, setting his jaw.

“There’s always a chance I can step outside and get hit by an asteroid falling to earth, or beaned on the head by an abnormally large squirrel falling from its tree. I can’t stop going outside just because those dangers exist,” she continued over their snorts and sniggers, grinning a little herself, “and I can’t stop living like I want to just because the boogeyman exists and is out to get me. Pulling the blanket over my head won’t work so I might as well meet him with a smile on my face and fire in my hands.”

Her father shook his head, but said nothing. Her mom seemed too tired to say much, the giggle having taken a lot out of her.

Sylvie viewed them closely for a moment, weighing whether her idea was necessarily the best idea, but shrugged mentally. They would need to be warned, and only they had a chance to pull it off.

“Speaking of things that have to get done, like your sleep,” she continued, they perked their ears and looked at her, “we need to speak with Megan and Cindy.” She finished firmly.

“The mermaids?” they asked in surprise. “Why?” “How could you speak to them? They never come up these days,” “How would you get to the lake?”

“They have to be warned, I’m sure they will come to me, and I’ll go in the horse trailer from Ben.” She ended with a shiver. She hated that damn thing.

Her mother noticed, and frowned quietly to herself. A slight shimmer in the light showed tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes, but she stayed silent.

“The horse trailer, huh?” her father said, looking thoughtful. If he’d noticed the shiver, he’d given no sign.

“Yeah, it’s the only thing that will work.” She said. “And then we’ll take one of the lake boats out to Mermaid Rock. There we can talk to them without being overheard.”

Her father shook his head. “That won’t work.” He said. “The rock is constantly surrounded these days by boaters and folks on shore with cameras, hoping to spot a glimpse. We’ve had such casualties here in town that we haven’t been able to spare anyone to patrol the lake, and it’s getting way out of hand from all accounts.”

He sighed, “No, I just don’t see us being able to talk to them on the lake at all.”

“I’ll speak with the chief.” Sylvie said firmly. “Perhaps he can send some men up to push out the looky-looers so we have a chance of talking to them.”

“How are you going to call to them?” her mother asked, frowning.

“One thing at a time!” Sylvie actually grinned at her, “First I talk to Ben, then we get rid of the people on the lake, and then we figure out how to call up Megan and Cindy.”

Ben proved amendable, so it was several hours later that Sylvie found herself staring at the plain steel wall of an FBI truck, feeling crowded under the watchful eyes of half a dozen agents and her parents, all of them armed to the teeth.

The van jounced and swayed as it made its way down the rough road. Despite her best efforts, Sylvie couldn’t help but occasionally step on someone’s foot in the bumps, hearing them yelp and curse under her effusive apologies.

It felt such a relief when they came to a stop, and she nearly burst from the vehicle. However, Bengal motioned her back and his men quickly leapt from the back of the truck and set themselves in defensive positions around them.

Once they indicated that the area had been secured, Sylvie stepped out of the vehicle with a profound sense of relief. She stretched the kink in her back (she’d been bent nearly double the entire time) and worked to get the cricks out of her neck and shoulders. When the last cracklings died away, she glanced around her and once again, making sure she actually saw what she thought she saw.

The lake had once been home to just a couple of folks that made their living off of fishing on its clean waters, so most of the shore had been left wild and green, with just two campgrounds on the entire lake and the crumbled remnants of a store that had tried to make a living as a bait shop (it was, in fact, this store that had been used by Roland to turn Megan into a mermaid).

Now the muddy and rocky beaches bore deep tire tracks from campers and vehicles that had parked on the once pristine places, the trees bore signs of limb harvesting for campfires and stumps showed where industrious axe cutters or better prepared campers with chainsaws had cut whole trees down to fuel their fires. Trash littered the ground or blew fluttering in the wind to snag on bush or branch as fate had it.

Bengals men had cleared out most of the people in a very short period of time for trespassing and parking illegally, yet Sylvie could see people lining the distant shore where the nearest of the campgrounds stood.

Appalled, she stared dumbstruck at the devastation that had overcome one of the more beautiful places in Red Leaf.

“’Tain’t pretty, ain’t it?” barked a raspy voice from behind them.

Sylvie whirled to see Ben approaching with Bill, the grumpy old fishermen who lived on the lake.

Sylvie opened her mouth to agree, but what came out was, “why didn’t you stop it?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished she could draw them back.

Bill didn’t seem to mind, as he grinned at her. “Wish’d I could, but them lot would’a cleaned an’ gutted me if’n I tried. Couldn’ get the Chief or Sheriff up’n here, bein’ so busy in town. Glad you came out though, sure was a relief to see ‘em drove off like that.” He ended with satisfaction.

Guilt assailed her; she’d been the reason no one could get out to the lake to see it protected.

“Don’ fret abou’ it” Bill advised, seeing her torn look. “Nothin’ you could’a done anyhow. Besides, you’re here now, an’ rarin’ to see your friends, if’n I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes, please.” Sylvie said quietly, feeling as if she should still have been able to do something.

They went down to Bill’s house and dock, where a fifteen foot boat floated. Sylvie wondered if it would be able to support her weight, and stepped inside gingerly. The boat rocked, and she fought the urge to rear up and bolt from the unsteady surface. She already knew that she didn’t like it one bit, but she forced herself to the exact middle where she folded her legs to lower her center of gravity. Immediately the boat leveled, and she breathed easier.

Her parents got in, and Ben, and Bengal; each of them took a seat along the outside very similar to how it had been in the van, except this open craft gave none of the stifling feelings to Sylvie. Bill hopped in, a little doubtfully it seemed, and Sylvie couldn’t help but be grateful the little craft didn’t sink. Already they’d lost almost their entire freeboard, and remained barely two inches above the water.

With a powerful roar of the engine, Bill maneuvered the craft carefully out onto the lake.

Sylvie marveled at how light and maneuverable it seemed to her, though she overheard Bill muttering to the Chief; “this thing’s wallowing under all this weight, she’s handling like a fat ballerina inna cheap stage.”

Despite the problems, they came to Mermaid Rock with little difficulty. Sylvie could see people lining the shore, hoping to catch a glimpse of Megan and Cindy. Ben shook his head and spoke into his mike; half an hour later deputies and agents began to appear and usher people away. Some resisted, but the agents reminded them that they were trespassing on private property and urged them to move, or arrested them when they didn’t.

It took what seemed forever to Sylvie, but at long last, as the sun started to plunge behind the trees, an agent signaled that the last of the snoopy folk had been driven away.

In that time, Sylvie had been trying to think of a way to let Megan and Cindy know it was her, and that she needed to talk to them. She splashed the water with her hand, she spoke in casual conversation while looking over the water in a vague attempt to have them hear her voice, and Bill even struck the water several times with his gaff in morse code to try and attract them.

Now Sylvie wondered if her parents hadn’t been right about this; perhaps Megan and Cindy were simply too deep for them to hear.

Sighing, she began to think on what else she could do to attract her friends. As the boat bobbed gently she found herself marveling at the beautiful sunset that grew in front of her very eyes. The orange-gold skies filled the world with warm colors while the clouds that drifted slowly became fiery chariots glaring down on the world.

Sylvie watched all this wonder and more, and to her surprise, she began to sing. Not a pop hit tune, or even one of her rock bands she so loved, but a simpler song, more like a lullaby that her mom had played around her cradle then anything she’d ever listen to.

I live a life so carefree
And roving over the sea
That now I am in Dover
And now in Gallipoli

The sea connects us all
It lures us in with siren call
And holds us with a mother’s love
Blue-green dress and white froth dove

But how shall I know to stop
Loving all that I ought
But knowing that the sea
Will always be there for me

With her lullaby finished, Sylvie sighed and turned to tell her parents that she’d given up for the day, when answering voices came wafting over the water; so beautiful and sweet, that Sylvie forgot all just to listen to them.

All is fair that is touched by the sea
Beautiful beyond price,
Is the roving sea,

We live in the waters of the lake
We are alone in the world of men
Yet here still do we partake
Of memory beyond our ken

The Sea! The Sea!
It calls to me, it calls to me,
White shores and brown shores all
Let them call! Let them call!

Until I lay down my harp and crown
And follow the call past the shore
Passing surf and wave that pound
Into the bosom of the sea for
Our rest evermore

There was a great deal more to the song, but Sylvie could not remember past those words no matter how much she tried to remember, the song driving all thought and recall past her and, she suspected, her companions.

Bill stood firm on the wheel and throttle, though a wistful smile came to his lips and tears shimmered unfallen in his eye, Ben and her parents stood as folk entranced, weaving in time with the rise and fall of those silvery voices, and Bengal looked to be a man lost in pleasant fantasy, leaning against the chair and listening.

The song fell silent across the water, and Sylvie heard her parents and Bengal murmur that they would like to have heard more, but Sylvie said nothing and looked over to the rock.

As she expected, Megan and Cindy had perched comfortably on top of its stony head, and waved cheerfully at her as Bill locked the motor into drive and brought the craft as close as he dared.

“We loved your song!” they called when the boat had come within a length of striking, but Bill handled it expertly and it turned neatly and came to a stop not a yard away.

“Thank you!’ Sylvie called back to them. “But it wasn’t anything compared to yours!”

They giggled, knowing full well the power they possessed in their voices.

Sylvie took the time to study her friends closely and felt a pang of worry; Megan and Cindy were looking thinner than she remembered; their stomachs were flat and toned, but their ribs seemed to be showing when they hadn’t before, and their hair looked more wild and less combed then she remembered. But they weren’t at the point of malnourishment.

“Are you guys all right?” Sylvie blurted, surprised at their condition.

Both girls laughed. “We’re fine,” they told her, “Don’t worry about us! The noisy humans are just scaring the fish and making them a little harder to catch, is all.” Megan said.

Sylvie wondered if there would be anything they could do, and saw the look in Ben’s eye and knew that it wouldn’t be long before a permanent patrol would be established to run off the troublemakers.

“Well, okay, as long as you guys are all right.” She said doubtfully.

“We’re fine, though a little surprised to see you is all.” Cindy told her, looking curiously at the boatload of people. “We don’t usually come out to see anyone, but your song drew us in and we knew it was you.”

“How?” Sylvie asked in surprise. “I don’t usually sing.” Which was certainly true; she might hum or sing a little bit with her iPod, but she never sang on her own before.

“Don’t know.” Megan shrugged. “We just knew it was you; the song carried clearly down to us and we knew it was your voice, though we could scarcely believe it! You’ve got a good voice, Sylvie.”

“Thanks.” Sylvie said, fighting a blush that crept up her cheeks; she’d never been complimented on her singing before.

“So what brings you our way?” Cindy asked, coming to the point again.

“To give you a warning.” Sylvie told them earnestly.

Surprised, they glanced at one another. “Warning of what?” Megan asked. “If it’s to stay away from humans, we do that already on general principle.”

“This is different.” Sylvie insisted. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of Tenebrae Cultor or not,”

“Who?” they asked, confused.

“Sylvie, why don’t you start at the beginning, instead of trying to leap in the middle.” Her mother suggested.

As quickly as she could, Sylvie ran them through the first encounter with the thief, the attack on the mall, the callous use of Sara and her torture to near insanity, and the attack on the police station. When she finished, the mermaids sat as if stunned.

“Wow.” Megan said in hushed tones. “That’s….that’s really something, Sylvie. I’m glad you guys weren’t hurt.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of good people died for it.” Sylvie told her bitterly, “and it’s getting worse. Sara’s on suicide watch now, with her mom in the hospital for the stress and all, and more police and agents in town, it’s looking pretty damn grim.”

She reigned herself in; that wasn’t why she was here, damn it! She needed to get on with the subject at hand and then go back.

“Look, we suspect that they’re just after me, seeking to kill me in some mad ritual or something to release demons on earth or become demons themselves, not really sure which, but if they can’t get to me, then they’re just as likely to try someone else, and you are one of those that they could have a better chance of catching than us; you guys aren’t exactly safe in the lake from them, with the waters not heavily patrolled by the Chief and lots and lots of boaters around.”

“Actually, those boaters might be beneficial,” Cindy said thoughtfully, “Although I wouldn’t have said so a few minutes ago. With their presence on the surface in such numbers, then it’s possible this Tenebrae Cultor won’t try to attack us.”

“They attacked the police station.” Sylvie pointed out.

“True, but that was well planned and executed, and took only a few minutes to accomplish.” Cindy told her. “However, trying to attack us is very different; the lake is vast for one thing, and we are deep underwater, which means special equipment to try and find us in the first place. Second, they would have to clear out the campgrounds, the boaters and those that live on the lake without any of them being able to send a warning to the authorities. If they miss even one, then they won’t have the time necessary to search for us before they came under fire from the Chief.”

“Damn straight.” Ben said in satisfaction as he eyed Cindy. “I always thought you had a good head for police work.”

She blushed a light blue under his praise. Sylvie watched in fascination.

“I suppose you’ve got a point.” She admitted. “But all the same, be careful. These guys aren’t going to be stopped by those odds, and they’re crazy enough to try.”

That sobered the girls up, and they looked grave now as they looked across the dark waters towards the shore, now nearly invisible to them in the dark.

“We’ll be careful.” Megan promised. “And hopefully nothing will happen to us, though it’s you we’re really worried about. Perhaps you can come live near the lake? There could be plenty of room, and if this Ten-e-bray cool-tor show up, we can sing to them and put them to sleep.”

For a moment, an odd gleam filled their eyes, and when they smiled it seemed toothier than Sylvie remembered seeing even a few moments ago.

“I’m not sure if that would work.” She pointed out hastily before Megan and Cindy could speak. “I mean, they actually believe in magic, so they would no doubt be carrying ear muffs or something if they want to come after you.”

Megan looked rebellious but Cindy turned thoughtful and grave.

“You’re right of course, Sylvie,” she said at last. “But don’t count us out of the equation just yet; we may have a surprise or two, if we put our heads together and think a little.”

Sylvie smiled a trifle sadly. They were empty words, and she knew it; what could the mermaids do? They were bound to the water by chains stronger than steel, and the odds of being near the water when an attack occurred were astronomically small.

“Thanks for the support.” She said aloud. “But I’ll be fine, what with the small army that follows me wherever I go, they’d be pretty stupid to try and attack me now; they’d lose everyone they have.”

“No, it’s you two I’m really worried about. You just don’t have the same protections that I have in place.”

“But we have the water.” Cindy pointed out. “And we’ve learned to do quite a bit with it, thank you.”

Sylvie frowned. “What are you talking about?” she asked, about the same time that Ben asked the same question.

Cindy grinned. “The Pearl! It’s actually a lot more powerful than we thought, it does more than simply amplify our voices, watch!”

Reaching out with both hands, she dipped under the surface and seemingly pulled from the water a large white pearl. Sylvie recognized it as the one the mermaids had brought down to Rio with them to trap Nightshade’s entire circus on the docks.

Holding the pearl aloft, Megan laid her hands on it as well. Sylvie suppressed the urge to giggle, they looked just like a statue from some cheap curio shop!

Then they began to sing, and Sylvie lost all desire to laugh. The song contained no words that she could hear, unless it was a watery language; one moment they burbled happily like the creek rushing down the mountainside, the next they were the slow, sad rush of ocean waves rolling onto the beach, until their voices became powerful, commanding, like the storms at sea that mariners fear above all others.

In their palms the pearl started to glow, the shine waxing with their song until it reached its brilliant peak, and the sky (which until that point had been clear and fine as an early spring can be) turned dark and cloudy, the weather springing from nowhere. Gales whipped up and bent the trees, and a bone-chilling rain stung their skin with the wind, and the lake’s surface turned to foam and froth.

Bill cursed and struggled against the wheel, managing to keep their boat from being dashed against the rocks only with the skills he’d accumulated over a lifetime of fishing. Bengal turned green and became sick over the side, and her parents gripped the gunnels in fright.

Sylvie, already laying down, simply watched the demonstration of power in awe. Chills crept up her spine as she realized the gifts from Roland were not the one-time uses she had thought they were. A sudden fear seized her.

Taryn’s stone! She took it with her on her trip to the reservation! What if it’s like the pearl?

Sylvie wondered how long it would take to get to shore to call Taryn’s cell (hers didn’t have bars at the lake) and warn her of the danger.

Megan and Cindy’s voices changed, becoming tranquil, a slow-moving river in a sunny valley. At once the storm eased, the clouds breaking apart until the moon shone through once more, all the brighter for the darkness that had overtaken it.

“That was very, very impressive.” Bengal said, shakily as he rose from the side of the boat. “But that’s going to be going to the labs for study. “

“Who’s your friend, Chief?” Cindy asked, her eyes narrowing as they looked harder on Bengal, who straightened unconsciously under their probing gaze.

“Girls, this is Special Agent Bengal of the FBI assigned to the case.” Ben said heavily. “I’m afraid he’s got authority here over you kids now.” He did not sound happy about that.

“Over those of the land, perhaps.” Megan sniffed angrily. “But he will not be able to take our pearl from us!”

“Nope.” Cindy agreed, her gaze sharpening into dislike.

“I’m sorry,” Bengal immediately apologized, holding his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “I’ve handled this-urp!- poorly, but the fact remains-gulp- that what you are holding in your hands is a very dangerous weapon of unknown type that needs further study. It’s the same principle as if you found a dropped warhead from an army plane, the danger it presented—hic—to those who didn’t understand it would be incalculable.”

“Dangerous to you, perhaps, but not to us.” Megan fired back. “We are of the water, and this pearl is also of the water; you land folk would not be able to use this pearl, or tap into its power.”

“You don’t know that for certain.” Bengal replied, regaining some color into his pallid cheeks. “You don’t know anything about this pearl. Just a few minutes ago you smiled at the thought of overpowering a group of people, and seemed to be thinking like the sirens of mythology, delighting in devouring mariners. Couldn’t that be from the pearl? Might it not be affecting your thought process and turning you further and further from yourselves? You may claim to be ‘from the water’, but we all know that you are actually from the land. You’re human at the bottom of this.” He told them kindly but firmly. “This pearl is extremely dangerous, apparently, and should not be used…” he hesitated.

“By someone you don’t control?” Megan growled defiantly.

“By inexperienced civilian personnel.” Bengal finished.

“We are not ‘inexperienced’ in this matter.” Cindy said dryly. “To us, the Pearl is ours, as is the Rifle and pistols of Sylvie, and Taryn’s spear. We haven’t paid as high a price for the pearl perhaps,” they looked sympathetically to Sylvie who remained stoic, “But that does not make it any less our own. No, you may believe you have jurisdiction over us, but you have nothing.”

Bengal sighed. “I’ll take your answers back.” He told them, “but that would make you exempt from FBI protection if things took a bad turn.” He warned.

“Noted.” Megan told him

He paused a moment, then added, “That reminds me, Megan, your sister and mother are safe, as is your mother and father, Cindy.”

“Melody?!” Megan asked in surprise

“Mom and dad?” Cindy echoed her.

Everyone looked at Bengal with differing expressions; Cindy and Megan were looking horrified, her parents angry, and Ben expressionless. For her part, Sylvie felt conflicted; she’d come trying to give her friends warning, not turn them over to the FBI!

“What is this, Mister Bengal?” she demanded in a hard voice before anyone else could speak. Heads turned towards her, but she didn’t care as she glared across her back at the calm gaze of Bengal. “Are you threatening my friends through their family?”

“Never.” Bengal told her calmly, “Although I can see how you came to such a conclusion. No, I spoke of them now because I thought Megan and Cindy were about to dive back into the lake, and I wanted to give them the comfort of knowing their families are in the Witness Protection Program.”

He sighed heavily. “Of course, they won’t ever be able to come here to see each other, simply too dangerous right now with Jacob and his goons loose, but at least they know that they are safe.”

“That makes it worse.” Sylvie told him. “Their families are important! You don’t have the right to keep them away from each other!”

Bengal raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that they’d been meeting at all.” He said coolly.

Megan and Cindy looked abashed, and also miserable and sad. They clutched at each other for support, and their tails hung limp beneath them.

“That isn’t important,” Sylvie snapped, though inside she wondered, but that wasn’t important! She knew how hard it’d been to show her parents her own changes! Megan and Cindy had never had the opportunity to contact their families to tell them!

At least, not until Ben…and then they’d been seen in the news…and of course, she herself hadn’t bothered asking if they’d want her to contact their family for them…

She shook off her doubts, her eyes narrowing as her tail began swishing in agitation.

“Look, they might not have had as easy a time to contact their families as we have, they’re in the water all the time, for Chrissake’s!, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t love their families, and hadn’t thought about getting back together with them. Telling them they can’t ever see their families again is just bullshit to try and get them to submit to you!”

“No, it isn’t.” Bengal told her calmly. “You yourself might not realize this yet, but there had been talk of trying to move you to a better secured, more protected location and relocating your family into Witness Protection to keep them safe.”

Sylvie stared, unsure of what she’d just heard.

“Mom, dad?” she whispered. “Gone?” she looked right at them just to make sure that they were still there, and saw them glaring daggers at Bengal.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing here, Agent Bengal, but you’d better stop it now.” Her father’s tone had gone icy hard, but soft. He didn’t shout, he talked normally in volume, yet he dominated the craft all of a sudden.

“Yes, I was aware of that nonsense of moving us into Witness Protection, I’ve ordered others into it myself several times after all, but we both know that holding us would be nearly impossible. You’ve seen my record, and Anne’s, do you honestly believe that you could stop us from being with our daughter?”

Bengal looked unhappy, but nodded. “That was a factor in our decision not to, yes.” He said. “But look at it from our point of view; moving prize witnesses or highly endangered folk into cover at least lets them live a semblance of normal lives while we work to arrest and secure the guilty parties. We can see the cost when we can’t use the WPP at all; look at the number of agents we have assigned here, the number of man hours put in, the special equipment we’ve had to bring, the weapons, the actual combat that’s swirled around these two! We can’t simply move them to a new neighborhood under a different name and expect them to escape detection, they’re to goddamn noticeable. Instead, we’re forced into a guessing game with our enemies as to when they’ll strike next, all the while we can’t afford the agents to hunt them down and they keep getting stronger all the time. They don’t even have to be affiliated with some of the people trying to tear the changed down, but they help. Our people have to deal with all the others, and be ready for Jacob to make his move.”

“That’s why we took Cindy’s parents and Megan’s family into protective custody and got them moved across the country. That’s why they’re living under false identities and guarded by US Marshals specialized in dangerous situations. We’ve also made the same arguments with your friend Josh’s mom and relations, but they won’t budge and we’ve no desire to get into a firefight with the same people we’re trying to protect.”

“I don’t know what started your beef with the government, but we’re not the bad guys here, we’re trying to do our job to keep you safe with no thanks and little help.”

He desisted, grumbling a little.

Sylvie stared, feeling a little ashamed of herself. It was true that he’d done nothing but try and help her, and Taryn and Josh, as well as Cindy and Megan, but he’d always done it under their terms. The armored trailer, the secret hospital, the search for Roland and Meyers had all been managed by Bengal to their needs.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “It’s just…well,”

“You don’t trust us.” He smiled. “Can’t say as I blame you, with all the negative publicity the government constantly gets in the media, but we really are trying to help here.”

“Let’s be honest Barry,” Ben said unexpectedly. “You’re doing your damndest to help with the situation here. The rest of them, the senators and your superiors, are simply doing it because its newsworthy-paints them in the best light. They’ll drop us like a hot potato the moment we stop being of interest.”

“With all the attraction you’ve been getting constantly, I don’t see that going to happen anytime soon.” Bengal said dryly, “but you’re right about some of it, but that’s all I can say, and that is off the record as well.” He added.

“Understood.” Ben nodded.

“Well,” Sylvie turned to Megan and Cindy, her eyes meeting theirs. It was her turn to feel abashed now, and the guilt that assailed her came through in her tone. “Sorry about this. I’d actually wanted to come up alone, but for obvious reasons that couldn’t have happened.”

Her parents grunted in agreement.

“Well, the important thing is that you gave us that warning about Meyers and his goons.” Megan assured her. “And you didn’t know about any of the rest of it, that much was obvious. Sorry for scaring you with the pearl as well.”

“No! No! That’s okay, it was really cool!” Sylvie assured her. “That was really amazing, that you can control weather now.”

“A little.” Megan cautioned her. “It’s strongest over water of course, and we can’t affect much onshore very far at all, pretty much just within reach of our voice.”

“Well, it’s still amazing.” Sylvie told her fiercely. The mermaids blushed with pleasure at the compliment.

“Thank you.” Cindy said. “But what are you guys going to do?” she asked looking at her.

“Keep on living.” Sylvie told her stubbornly, setting her jaw. “I’m not going to hide just because I know someone is gunning for me.”

“I figured as much.” Cindy nodded. “Well, be careful anyways.”

She might have been about to say more, but a muzzle flash appeared suddenly in the gloom of the trees and a bullet whined over the lake, passing so close above Megan’s head that her hair fluttered in the breeze.

The mermaids dived off the rock and Bill made to gun the engine, but abruptly the water began to glow around them and the boat began to sink. Bill cried out in fear, twisting the throttle hard and turning the boat sideways, but the action killed the motor with a sudden pop and jerk, leaving them dead in the water.

The boat spun faster and faster in the pool of light, as the water rose like a wall around them. The passengers made to throw themselves overboard, but the boat dropped too quickly, and they clustered around Sylvie as they watched the spectacle wide-eyed.

Further shots were heard just before the waters closed over their head in domed roof as they continued to sink, the rock a dim mountain just visible through the wall of water beside them.

Down to the lakebed they dropped, coming upon old tree stumps and fallen logs that sat rotting in the mud and silt. Before they struck the mud, the bubble they were in stopped nearly a foot above the ooze.

Sylvie stared wide-eyed around her, struggling against the urge to kick her way free and return to the surface. She realized she was trembling and took deep breaths of the cool, damp air to calm herself.

The bubble they were in was not, really, a bubble. Yes, it had air in the hollow center, and most of the walls were curved around them in an arched circle, but the roof above their heads seemed more flattened than a proper circumference should be, as if the bubble had run up against some object and could not reach the surface, and the base of the bubble was flat, full of water right to the hull of the boat, giving it about the same freeboard as it had on the surface. The chamber of air extended about a foot around the boat in all directions of the compass except, of course, for the roof which stood about three feet above Bill’s head from where he stood on the stern of the boat clutching the chrome wheel with white knuckles, and the floor which supported the boat like a new lake surface.

Outside the bubble came Megan and Cindy, singing in concert together and holding the pearl between them, which glowed brilliantly, but the light stopped now about an arm’s length past the bubble. Above Sylvie’s head all was dark like the surface of a cave.

Sylvie wanted to ask questions, but a strong, unreasoning fear took hold of her that, if the mermaids stopped their song, the magic would be released and they would all drown. So, she remained silent and watchful.

Megan gestured for them to follow, and Bill, releasing his clutch, stooped forward and brought up two paddles.

“I don’t want to start the engine, case the fumes kill us.” He explained, keeping his eyes straight on the bottom of the boat, as if he didn’t look outside of his boat he wouldn’t see his worst nightmare.

The others didn’t say a word either, as if being in the bubble made them automatically seek to conserve their air in case it ran out. Instead, taking the paddles Bill offered, Ben and her father (Bengal had reached for the paddle, but her father had grabbed it first) dipped the blades gingerly into the water, looking hard at the surface as if the tension might break after being pierced.

Everyone sighed in relief after the bubble remained whole, and together the two men rowed the boat after the mermaids who drifted ahead of them, still singing.

Sylvie had the strangest feeling in the world, sitting in the boat as they passed steadily over the expanse of empty mud, fallen trunks, bits of debris from the surface, and lots and lots of junk tires, old cans, and other human debris tidied into neat piles that would loom suddenly ahead in the gloom, pass by them on either side, and vanish again into the murk as if they’d never been.

A huge shadow appeared, a little to one side. As they neared it became more distinct until a section of the stern became visible. No name existed underneath the thick slime and mud that had accumulated on it, but Sylvie could tell that it had to have been a nice craft in its time.
The sad and lonely ship was left dark and alone once more as they continued past, and Sylvie felt a trifle melancholy, as if she’d left a tomb.

The angle of the lakebed changed, beginning to shallow again, and Cindy ceased singing, leaving Megan with the pearl as she swam powerfully into the darkness, zooming away as if on rocket motors.

There came quiet murmurings from the others, but Sylvie remained silent; there wasn’t anything she could ask of Megan anyway, who appeared to be singing her heart out to maintain the bubble, and didn’t look a trifle smaller now anyway? The space in front of the prow and behind the stern seemed less…

Cindy came back and nodded to Megan, then stuck her head through the bubble about halfway up, so they had to look up to talk to her.

“There’s no one on this shore that I can see.” She told them. “Except for two agents near Bill’s house and dock. Just to be safe, we’re going to drop you off some distance from the dock, and we’ll sing to put everyone else to sleep, in case they’re Jacob’s goons pretending to be agents.”

“Is one of them smaller than the other, a woman about Anne’s height but with a scar over one eye? Brown hair, if you can see it underneath her helmet, sharp nose?”

“Yes.” Cindy said in surprise, “though I couldn’t see the hair.”

“That’s Jazalyn, Agent Jazalyn Cooper, I should say. Don’t worry, we still hold this shore.”

Cindy looked at Ben who nodded reassuringly to her, and Cindy shrugged. Pulling her head free of the bubble she spoke some words to Megan and put her hands on the pearl, joining her song again.

The bubble expanded a little once more and the started going back up to the surface. In moments, it seemed, the top of the bubble vanished and cool lake air swept in from the top.

Slowly the craft rose from the lake and bobbed gently on the smooth surface waters, as if nothing magical or extraordinary had happened just a short time ago.

Bill started to motor and waved to the mermaids cheerfully, as Sylvie shouted her good-bye and the others gave well-wishes and other things.

Cindy and Megan waved goodbye to them all and turned back to the lake and were gone.

“Well, that was certainly an adventure.” Bengal remarked.

Sylvie laughed. “If you start hanging with any of us changed folk,” she told him, “you’d best start getting used to it.”

He grinned and laughed a little.

The boat pulled up to the dock and Bengal’s agents hurried to secure the lines and form a cordon around them as everyone tried to hurry Sylvie up the dock to the van.

“What happened out there?” Bengal asked.

“A kid with a rifle took a shot at you guys before you disappeared. The agents got him quick, but then after you vanished everything went to shit fast. They’re on the radio trying to get divers into the water, and a few agents have already tried free diving where they saw you go down in that strange light. They thought that freak storm might have damaged your boat and you sank.”

“Well, go ahead and call them off.” He told her. “I’ll debrief all of them when we return to town. Thank the agents for their efforts. Now what about that sniper, what do we have on him so far?”

The doors to the van swung open and Sylvie reluctantly climbed in, followed by the others.
Bengal moved to ride up front with Jazalyn, and their conversation was cut off, but not before Sylvie could hear,

“He isn’t marked like Tenebrae Cultor, or even claims affiliation with…”

So, now I’ve got new enemies to worry about. Sylvie frowned, pondering as the van lurched into motion and drove slowly away from the lake with its escort.