Page 12 of Ensnaring the Siren

That’s what Aersila thought of her efforts? That she just flitted around the Surface Dwellers, not a single thought in mind, recklessly hoping everything would work out? It was one thing for Aersila to fear for her safety and the possibility that she might disappear and never return—either taken in captivity or outright killed—but another to treat her like a helpless child.

“Give me more credit than that, sister.” She signed the words with harsh, cutting motions.

Their kind dove into the deep, dark unknown every single day. How they handled its dangers, especially the ones that surprised them, was the truest test of strength and mettle. But it never kept them from diving in the first place.

“I wish you’d just leave Undine to handle this.”

Nireed clenched her teeth, and with a hard slap of her tail, zipped out of Aersila’s workshop, and away from her people’s underwater cliffside city. There were small clusters of merfolk swimming about, but she was too angry to talk or even attempt pleasantries, and the others gave her a wide berth. Sour moods were easily detected, the scent rippling out through the water in pungent waves. It was as good as a spoken warning.

With short, quick flicks of her tail, Nireed ascended to the kelp forest above the city, its towering green stalks standing sentry, swaying gently in the current.

This was where she came to think when she wanted to be alone.

“I wish you’d just leave Undine to handle this.”

If she’d stayed any longer, she just might’ve listened. All her life, she’d looked up to her fiercer, braver older sister, let her take care of them, make all the decisions, shoulder all the worry, and risk her life again and again so that the pod could survive.

But while it was once easier to let Aersila, Undine, and all the older merfolk handle things, those days were done and gone. Not only was Nireed older now, but she’d also grown into full maturity, and it was well past time they treated her like it, especially when she could, and had, made a difference. Hanging back, doing nothing, grated against her instincts to serve and protect their own.

How could her sister not see that? And what right did she have to lecture her on risk-taking?

Aersila was the most daring of them all. She’d solo hunted sharks, and had even taken on a trespassing giant squid, hacking at its tentacles until it decided she was too much trouble and descended further into the deep where it belonged.

And when Nireed had been in captivity for over a year, Aersila scaled a Surface Dweller vessel, the first time their kind had done so in over a century, not since wood and sails had been traded for fuel-powered engines and propellers. The noise they made was horrendous, a constant, discordant grinding that left the ears ringing for days after. Approaching just wasn’t worth the agony, and yet, Aersila had endured it for her, to demand Lorelei’s mate that they give Nireed back.

But her sister’s most daring mission of all left her with scars deeper than skin and scale. When the pod was still brainsick and divided—the mermen controlled by violence—she risked encounter after encounter just to get pregnant, desperately trying to bolster their rapidly dwindling numbers.

Her son Ryn was the result of such efforts. And because of the sickness, and the way it affected the male children, she had to give him up to the mermen to keep the pod safe, all without hope of ever seeing him again.

So, if Aersila thought Nireed’s visits to the surface and interactions with a Coast Warrior were too risky, it must be so. She didn’t fault Aersila for wanting to keep her safe. Nireed, herself, had felt that way about her sister time and time again, but the difference was she’d believed in her. When someone said they could do something, they had every right to try. That was the merfolk way.

“You’re so quick to take risks.” Aersila’s words echoed back to her. “Leave Undine to handle this.”

Nireed slapped her tail with extra force.

Hypocrite. And what did Undine know about the Land Above the Water? Or the Surface Dwellers’ customs? Nothing. Nireed could count on one hand the number of times Undine had walked dry sand and stone, and she only spoke with Shorewalker when she had to.

Besides, their leader was needed here to watch over and guide the pod, especially as more and more of their own disappeared in the fishermen’s nets. Not to mention, Undine now had a little one that she couldn’t be away from for long.

No. There was only one mermaid for this task.

Drifting to the edge where the open ocean and kelp forest met, Nireed stared at the wall of green before her, then at the water above, a blue so deep and dark weaker eyes might call it black.

Nireed may have been trapped in a tank for over a year, but she’d learned a lot in that time, including the Surface Dwellers’ language.

They needed her to do this.

And she would do this. It didn’t matter what Aersila said. Nireed knew her own mind, her own capabilities, and not even her once-daring sister’s reticence could stop her from doing what she knew was right.

It had been only a day since Nireed had last seen Shorewalker, but her reporter friend worked quickly and should have an answer by now about who owned The Merry Mariner, and why they were hunting merfolk.

Nireed swam for shore.

Just under a mile offshore, Reid and his aircrew practiced emergency scenarios. When there wasn’t maintenance to do or cases to run, they were training, because in this line of work, in this service, “Semper Paratus” were the words they lived by. Drills after drills after drills until knowing what to do became second nature, so that they could keep on going even when fear and exhaustion took hold.

Overhead, the helicopter hovered, its propeller beating a wide circumference onto the ocean’s surface, spraying up water.

Perez’s voice crackled over the radio. “Great day for a picnic.”

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