The Twice Lost

sounded like there was some kind of debate going on.

“Why are you doing this?” the woman finally called. “You say you don’t want to hurt anyone, but this wave is threatening San Francisco. How can you claim that’s not an act of war?”

Luce thought about that for a moment and decided that her best choice was to be honest. “It is war,” Luce agreed. The microphone swayed in front of her face, dark and somehow disquieting. “The human government has been killing mermaids all over the West Coast. Maybe in other places, too. They attacked us last night with submarines and helicopters, and some of us were machine gunned. We had to do something big to defend ourselves, to make them stop shooting at us . . .” For the first time since she’d faced the camera, Luce remembered the mesh of fine wounds covering her skin. “If we lower the wave now, they’ll kill us all. We don’t have any choice!”

Again there was consternation above her. The cameraperson squirmed, wide blue space crossed by bridges and hills glowing behind him.

He looked stunned by what she’d said. Maybe even appalled. Would other humans feel upset about the mermaids being gunned down too?

“So you aren’t going to send this wave at San Francisco?” the woman yelled. Her hair was so stiff with gel that the wind only made it fidget a little.

“Not on purpose,” Luce explained. “But if they attack us again we probably won’t be able to stop it. We have to keep singing all the time to hold the water up.” She spotted one of the military helicopters hanging far back against milky smears of cloud and nodded at it. “It looks like they already figured that out, right?”

More mermaids had joined Luce in the wave now. Delicate fins brushed Luce’s shoulder as Yuan swept in a high arc above her head.

Now that they weren’t keeping themselves secret anymore, the Twice Lost were obviously enjoying showing off for all the flabbergasted humans. Luce found herself grinning at the idea too: how the amazing beauty and power of the mermaids with her must be affecting their human viewers. Magic had ruptured the surface of their everyday world, and that magic was quick and alive and talking back to them.

The next moment, though, Luce was just as surprised as the humans must be.

“Do you know someone named Andrew Korchak?” the newscaster shouted.

Luce lost her balance in the wave and dropped a dozen feet. A writhing current caught her off-guard and flipped her before she was able to recover herself and swim up to the microphone again.

Her father just wasn’t the kind of person most people knew about. Hearing his name from someone like this overly polished woman—that didn’t make any sense.

“He’s my dad,” Luce finally managed—and then she glanced over at Catarina’s outraged face, suddenly acutely aware that she’d never told Cat the story of how she’d found her father alive. “Is he okay?”

The woman ignored Luce’s question. “Andrew Korchak issued a statement claiming that mermaids drown people. Is he telling the truth?”

Luce reeled in the wave’s core, though this time she somehow kept herself from tumbling. Her father had said that? Her adored father was going out of his way to persuade everyone to hate mermaids, including his own daughter—just when the mermaids most desperately needed his help? The pain in Luce’s chest and head was so wrenching, so physical, that her vision blurred for a moment. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do next: scream out against his betrayal or crumple into heartbroken silence . . .

There’s no reason not to speak of the truth, Nausicaa’s remembered voice murmured in Luce’s mind. And wasn’t that all her father had done? Speak the truth?

But now, Nausicaa? Luce answered in her thoughts. How could he do that to us now?

Speak of the truth, Luce, Nausicaa told her. If you want to save us, speak of the truth.

“General Luce?” the woman bellowed. “Our viewers are waiting for your answer.”

Luce pulled herself straight and looked into the camera. How could she make herself say this?

“It’s true. Most mermaids do drown people.” Luce hesitated then made a wild leap of faith. “If my dad says something, you can believe him. But we don’t kill. The mermaids of the Twice Lost Army all promise never to kill humans except in self-defense. If we can change, that proves other mermaids can change too!”

“So you admit that mermaids are murderers. Why should we believe that you and your followers are any different?”

Luce glowered at the woman. “You can believe it because you’re alive to believe it!” She almost pointed out how easily the Twice Lost could destroy every human within earshot then decided not to say anything about that. The impulse seemed less than diplomatic.

There were tears on her face, Luce noticed. That was all wrong. She shouldn’t let the humans see her crying. Maybe, maybe, they’d think her tears were just droplets from the wave.

Voices buzzed chaotically above her. All she wanted now was to get away: away from the cameras. Away from the thought that her father might hate her. Away from Catarina’s glare, and from the possibility that she’d let her army down by saying too much . . .

“General Luce?” the woman called again. “Obviously emotions are running very high at this . . . this historic moment.”

“We have demands,” Luce snapped. She felt half-sick from grief; the interview was getting to be more than she could bear. “We’re keeping the blockade up until our demands are met. Until then everyone had better keep away from our camps. And”—she felt another stab of inspiration—“if any other mermaids out there hear about this, we could use your help! Join us.”

“What are your demands? General Luce . . .”

Luce looked up at the woman with her rigid hair and shell-shocked expression. At this moment humans seemed pitiful to Luce, but they were also pretty infuriating.

“We have to think about it,” Luce announced. “We’ll send you a letter.”

“But—”

Luce plunged. Her serpentine body flashed through what felt like a rising waterfall.

“Hey!” Imani called brightly into the mike. “I just wanted to say hi to everyone too!”

21 Voices Carry

Secretary of Defense Moreland was standing slack-jawed beside the president, a dozen generals, and half the members of the Strategic Affairs Council. He felt a shiver of icy anticipation as the microphone curved through blue air toward Lucette Korchak’s face. He was sure she would sing. She would kill them all, and his heart felt both frozen and boiling at the prospect.

He told himself that it was too late to do anything about it. Sweat sleeked his palms and his mouth seemed to be crowded with brittle leaves.

His jaw fell even farther when Lucette opened her lips—and started speaking instead of singing. She sounded remarkably sweet, almost innocent, and not nearly as stupid as she should be.

Moreland was blindsided by the force of his disappointment—and for one split second of lucidity he recognized how insane his reaction was. He’d genuinely wanted her to kill everyone.

Then he forgot all about his own madness. There was another mermaid in the wave, a redhead, and Lucette Korchak had said the name Catarina. Another of the singers he’d heard on the recording, then: an irresistible prize, a flame-colored coin minted from fresh desire.

“When I saw that wave standing there I knew it was a game-changer,” President Leopold grumbled. “But if everything this cute little general is saying is true, I think we’re going to need a whole new board.”

* * *