Page 85 of Oceansong
Her plan worked. She turned her flashlight off, stuffing it back into her vest pocket. Thank her ancestors.
Until two spears sailed through the water, moving in slow motion, in front of her eyes.
They struck Aqilus through his side and back. His hands flew to where the spearguns wedged into his skin for a split second, before falling limp.
Angie sucked in a sharp breath. Helium and oxygen from her regulator blasted to the back of her throat, and she gagged.
More sentinels emerged, going for the divers with the lights. In the midst of the ensuing madness, two of the divers sneaked their way in and grabbed the mer-king’s corpse, returning to the surface with their prize, leaving her behind.
She caught a glimpse of Kaden and Cyrus and the mer-queen, right before they disappeared again into the darkness. Seeing Kaden was sweet relief, knowing he hadn’t been the captured merman being studied.
Her breaths came out short and shallow, and she forced herself to slow down, or else she would burn through her air.
After her breathing slowed, Angie moved toward the surface. The boat which brought her here was gone. Open sea crowded her, waves churningand punching her face.
A Coast Guard ship sailed toward her, and Angie threw her arms up, waving them in the S.O.S. signal.
It didn’t stop, and brushed past.
Damn it!
Then she remembered what Beau and Emily had said: that the Coast Guard was prioritizing larger ports’ problems.
Is that where this ship was going? Responding to a call from a bigger, clearly more important port?
Cursing in her head, Angie removed her rebreather and replaced it with her snorkel mouthpiece. She unstrapped the neon pink inflatable safety sausage from her BCD, inflating it and letting it hang next to her. She fiddled with her audible signaling device, her last resort in case the loud noise drew the mer’s attention.
The dive boat appeared from the fog and sailed toward her. Her eyes shone as she locked in on the approaching vessel, tension seeping from her body. Fortunately, this wasn’t the boat carrying Aqilus’ speared body. She didn’t know if she could handle seeing him until they reached land.
When they docked, she unburdened herself from her weighted BCD and halfway depleted Heliox tank.
Angie fast-walked to the dressing room, and finding her locker, changed out of the wetsuit, dried herself and donned her work outfit. She bunched her wet hair up into a hat to prevent suspicion that she’d been in the water in case Nick or Bàba saw her, recoiling at the chill piercing her scalp when she piled her hair and secured it with a waterproof, phone cord hair tie.
She returned to see a group of divers stuffing Mer-King Aqilus’ limp body into a fishing net like he was nothing more than their daily catch. Back when they had a daily catch.
The divers, dressed in their wetsuits and booties and holding their fins, congratulated each other, some shaking with glee, musing over his assumed status because of the pearls and undersea treasures he wore. Their spearguns lay in a row, pointed downward near the small pavilion where they geared up. One diver looked over to them with an appraising nod.
“The camo outfits were key, man,” a male diver said, lifting his arm to admire the patterns on his wetsuit. “Never saw us coming.”
“They’ll probably catch on soon. We’ll have to change the colors and patterns for next time,” a female diver chimed in.
Angie strained her neck to get a better glimpse of the female diver, whose back was still turned to her. She knew that voice. Celia? She took part in killing Kaden’s father?
“By the way, good job with getting those two bodyguards. Beat me to it.” She puckered her lips. “I had a clean shot, too.”
“You’ll get them next time.” A different female diver patted her shoulder.
“Yup,” Celia said. “I’ll make Mom proud. She deserved better than to die by their hands.”
Angie’s stomach churned and felt like it was folding into itself.
She took another step back so they wouldn’t spot her eavesdropping, but stayed close enough to hear them.
Angie wanted to see Aqilus, but wasn’t sure she could bear the sight of his speared, lifeless body. Instead, she trained her gaze on Celia, her sandy hair tied into a wet ponytail, and tanned skin glistening under the sunlight. There was a sadness in Celia’s hazel eyes that belied her proud smile, and Angie’s heart dropped for her. As it did in the photos on Eva’s phone, the sunlight created a bright flash off Celia’s nose ring, and her wide smile was identical to the picture. On instinct, Angie moved to comfort her, but the divers surrounded her to secure the net. They walked away, still talking amongst themselves.
Angie shuffled her feet on the concrete. Celia approached, carrying two armfuls of empty spearguns. The young woman looked like she was struggling, so Angie held out a hand. “Need help?”
Celia flashed her a grateful smile and shared the spearguns with her.
