Page 118 of Oceansong
A silence befell them as Bàba stood stock-still like a wooden doll, his eyes still bulging in horror. Standing as if in a trance, until Mia nudged him hard with an elbow and broke him out of it.
When he spoke, his voice quivered in a way Angie hadn’t heard before. “We agree to your demands, Mer-Queen. If you will release a few more fish to us so we can financially survive. And if you let my daughter go.”
Please, Serapha. Say yes. For your people. For your son.
Beside her, Kaden floated like a dead man, blood trailing from the gunshot wound she couldn’t locate. His abdominal area was fogged with thick, serosanguinous fluid.
No, she couldn’t lose him like this. She wouldn’t accept it. Had to come back for him.
Serapha spoke. “I agree. Take her back.” She pushed Angie into the arms of a sentinel, who escorted her to shore. Once she met with sweet, sweet sand, gasping for air, she crawled ashore with her hands over her wounds. Bàba rushed to her and lifted her by the arms until her feet were planted on the ground.
Behind them, the mer retreated into the sea, their forms disappearing one by one. Angie’s throat grew thick, and she fought to stop another waterfall of tears tumbling from her eyes. She couldn’t stop to grieve now, and wanted to be home. The tears could flow then, and she could weep to her heart’s content.
Serapha and two mer sentinels surrounded Kaden, one sentinel cradling his upper body, the other cradling his tail.
They dove back underwater, and he too, disappeared with the rest.
Mia appeared from behind Bàba, her face ghostly white, one hand over her mouth. “Angie? Oh, you’re okay!” She grabbed Angie and hugged her tight, burying her face in her hair. Bàba put an arm around both of them, his body and hands trembling.
Angie licked her dry, chapped lips, cracked from dehydration. “Water. I need water.”
“Here.” Bàba held out a half-drunk bottle of spring water, and Angie swiped it from him, drinking it in one large gulp.
She felt alive. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Why are you here?” Bàba asked Mia, his breath hitching.
“I couldn’t just stay home and hope that you would live. I stayed behind everyone. What if you all died?” Mia’s lower lip quivered. “Like Nick.”
She eyed Nick’s still body, blood still trickling from his mouth, and sank into a cross-legged sitting position beside him.
“Let’s get you home. It’s over.” He put an arm around Angie, holding her close to his side as they walked together. Then he stopped, looking behind him. “Doudou, are you staying?” Again, Bàba rubbed at the stubble on his chin, calling Mia by her childhood nickname,Little bean.
“I want to stay with him a little longer.” And with thickness in her words, she said, “Qing anxí ba,” a wish for him to rest in peace, and hung her head.
Forty-Seven
Kaden may have died tryingto defend his mother and possibly Angie. She might never know, and it killed her.
“Beibei.” Bàba approached Angie, and she turned to face him on the couch, gasping as her wounds contracted. Each time they stung it reminded her of Kaden. The slim hope that he still lived drove her through the past several days, willing her wound to heal as fast as possible. She had to see him again, dead or alive. Her heart clenched that she didn’t have a chance to say goodbye before Nick shot him down.
And Nick. As much as she had hated him, he had died trying to stop the mer from killing her.
Lulu circled around her ankles. The cat had stayed glued to Angie’s side the past several days.
Bàba sat down at the other end of the couch with his tea mug in hand. He offered her a drink, setting it in front of her. He’d always been a quiet man, but he had hardly spoken a word in the past six days. “Yes, Bàba?”
“I’m sorry.”
Angie did a double take, and sat herself upright. She couldn’t remember the last time Bàba apologized for anything. “You’re sorry?”
“For firing you. I understand now. You were trying to help.” He rubbed his face, sniffling. Angie remained silent as she reached for her mug with slow, cautious movements, waiting for him to continue. “I know you’re leaving soon, but you can return to the docks anytime you like. I’ll also have our secretaries write a letter that you completed your hours. I’ll loan you the rest of the money that you need. Take your time returning it.”
Angie’s mouth went dry. She brought the mug to her lips. He’d made her oolong, the floral aromas dancing in her nostrils. “Thank you, Bàba. I appreciate that.”
“Yes, of course. Because if it weren’t for you, this might not have ended as quickly as it did. We thought about it, and striking at their queendom, in their territory and with them outnumbering us, would have been too much for our men and women. The failed ambush on the palace proved that. The mer-queen would never have agreed to negotiate otherwise, I’m sure.” Bàba’s eyebrows pinched together.
“No. She was going to kill everyone with another tsunami.” Angie shuffled her feet on the ground, looking at her toes. “With how many people we have left, it just might have worked.” No matter how she racked her mind, she couldn’t think of why Serapha didn’t throw one final tsunami at them and decimate the rest. Whatever her reason, Angie was grateful that she chose to hold back.
