The Twice Lost

sliding over her eyes. “People have been talking about it. I’m not accusing you, General Luce . . .”

Luce stared up at the humans lining the shore, bewildered and heartsick. Their skin was damp with fog, hazy with the faded afternoon light. No matter how she struggled to put a stop to the killing it seemed that there was always death, and more death, and maybe in some obscure way it was her fault . . .

“General Luce,” Helene Vogel asked, gently but steadily, “did you kill that woman? Or order her killed?”

Luce shook her head miserably. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I’m so sorry if . . . if she died because of . . .”

Helene nodded. “Then don’t allow anyone to manipulate you into feeling responsible, general.”

Yuan’s arm was tight around Luce’s shoulders, silently urging her to be strong, and meanwhile the voices from the interview kept beating into her mind. She needed to focus on what they were saying, no matter how she felt.

“So—I know you’ve stated before that there’s no possibility of agreeing to the Twice Lost Army’s demands— is it correct that General Luce’s letter doesn’t change the White House’s position on that?” The newscaster’s voice pounded on like a drum.

“I’ve said it before and if necessary I’ll say it again,” Moreland droned. “We do not negotiate with mermaids!”

That made Luce jerk back in shock. “But—why shouldn’t they negotiate with us! It just means talking to us. Like we count.”

“And as for resolving the blockade of San Francisco Bay?” the newscaster pursued. “You’ve appealed for patience, and of course there’s been a real outpouring of support from the business community so far. But—”

“All options are still on the table,” Moreland snapped. “Naval traffic will be redirected to alternative ports until such time as we’re ready to move on this.”

Luce bit her lip and leaned toward Imani’s shoulder. Her eyes squeezed shut with the effort to hold back tears. Beyond the darkness of her closed eyes the newscaster nattered on, thanking Moreland for taking the time to talk to their viewers. Why were mermaids the only ones who were considered unworthy of meeting in conversation? If the humans wouldn’t even talk to them, it was hard to imagine what else the mermaids could do.

There were a few commercials for cars and alarming-sounding medicines. How much longer could she ask the Twice Lost to go on this way if there was no hope of negotiations at all? A blurt of shrill music announced a return to the news program.

“Well, we’ve all been wondering about the crowds who can’t seem to tear themselves away from the Golden Gate Bridge,” the newscaster’s voice suddenly thudded on. “It’s certainly hard to understand why some people in the Bay Area are expressing support for the mermaids.”

“That’s San Francisco for you!” a man’s voice smirked.

The female newscaster gave a dull laugh. “That’s certainly one explanation, Tim. But now we’re getting reports that even in Chicago—far away from the crazy Bay Area—there’s a demonstration happening right now. A crowd estimated at around five thousand people is marching in support of the Twice Lost Army. To you, Constance.”

Luce looked up again—and what she saw was even more intolerable than Moreland’s bland, cold face had been. The screen showed a large procession of people carrying signs. And right there, unmistakably, at the very front of it—

“Oh my God!” Cala squealed. “That is just so sweet of them!”

Two teenage boys were leading the march. A large banner stretched between them was emblazoned with the words All Life Came from the Sea. A wild wind stirred the tarnished bronze-blond hair of the boy on the left, and his expression was grim and determined even as his dark-haired friend grinned absurdly.

But even worse than that—

“Oh, I love that boy!” Cala called giddily. “Do you see what his shirt says? That is just the sweetest, most adorable thing—”

Yuan wasn’t looking at the screen anymore. She’d suddenly craned forward to stare into Luce’s face. Luce wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“He’s got no right to call himself that!” Luce snarled. “Cala, it’s not sweet at all! It’s like he’s stealing our name!”

The bronze-haired boy wore a black T-shirt, and printed on it in huge white block letters were the words—

“Twice Lost Human? Luce, he’s totally being nice! He’s just saying he’s, like, on our side. And he’s cute.”

TWICE LOST HUMAN. How could he dare—after everything he’d done—how could he possibly have the gall to call himself that?

“Cala,” Yuan said coolly, strongly. “Cut it out.”

“I just don’t think he means it like stealing our name! He—”

“Don’t you get it?” Yuan’s tone was oddly matter-of-fact. “That’s Luce’s boyfriend. She doesn’t need to hear you going on about how sweet he is!” Luce reeled in the squeezing crowd of mermaids, spinning toward Yuan in outrage. Yuan only raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t he, Luce? That’s Dorian.”

All Luce wanted was to dive away and disappear. Eyes, both mermaid and human, came at her from all sides, curious and demanding, as if they wouldn’t be satisfied until all of Luce’s private suffering was dissected in front of them. She felt stripped and prodded; coarse fingers seemed to go fumbling through the chambers of her heart. Luce choked wordlessly, her tail lashing against the tails around her, wild with the urge to escape.

But Imani’s arms were around her and so were Yuan’s, and she was still their general—and their friend. She couldn’t just run away from them. Not anymore. She inhaled hard, forcing her tail to slow.

“Luce?” Yuan said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just—”

“He was my boyfriend,” Luce announced flatly. “He betrayed me. For a human girl.” She couldn’t believe that she’d actually spoken those words aloud.

“And you let him live?” Cala asked, wide-eyed—then looked self-consciously at the humans watching them.

“No,” Luce snapped. After all the horrible things Moreland had said and then the shocking appearance of Dorian, her emotions still seethed inside her, threatening to sweep her away. “I made him live. He wanted to die.”

“Either way,” Yuan said sardonically, nodding at the screen, “it sure looks like he wants you back! Why do you think he’s doing this?”

The news show cut away from the protestors. Now the two newscasters were talking about a movie star who had just been arrested for drunk driving.

The sudden disappearance of the marchers hurt Luce more than she would have believed possible. Could Yuan be right? Luce gaped at the screen, where Dorian’s absence seemed to form a cataract of emptiness. And far too many people were still watching her.

“Let’s get to work,” Luce said. Her voice sounded dead. “It has to be almost six by now.”

For once, her followers ignored her. “But if they won’t even negotiate with us—I mean, what’s the point of trying so hard?” someone muttered behind her.

Most of the humans waiting by the bridge were friendly, but Luce knew there had to be spies mixed in with them. “We’ll talk about—about our options later. But we’re not giving up that easily!” Luce braced herself to say something she didn’t entirely believe. “That Moreland guy was bluffing, anyway. Couldn’t you tell?”

Still no one moved. “Luce?” Cala whispered nearby. “Do you still love him? Dorian?”

Before Luce could get upset by the question she was distracted by a commotion some distance to their left. A young, strikingly handsome man in a beige trench coat was fighting his way toward the water on that side,