singing mouths.
“Sir?” The undersecretary was looking at Moreland with such an odd, concerned expression that it verged on insolence. “I was
“Of course,” Moreland snapped.
Anais’s caretaker—why could he never remember that pasty young man’s name? Was it Freddy, or maybe Charlie?—peered out of an open door down the hallway. His face shone with pale pink hatred as he gazed at Moreland. His mouth hung open over his sharply receding chin.
“Sir? Shall we proceed?”
Moreland began walking automatically, almost brushing against that glowering face as he passed. “What about human activity?” Moreland asked. He knew that asking questions was expected of him, but in this case he also felt an ache of genuine interest. Human rebelliousness would be instigated by that Dorian Hurst boy; it would justify his steadily mounting fury at Anais.
“Human activity?”
“Those self-hating children calling themselves Twice Lost Humans. Any more trouble from them?”
“Yes, sir. There are large demonstrations going on in several cities at the moment. Most without permits. And there was an attempt to build a barricade across Route Sixty-six.”
Unbelievable foolishness. Clearly there was a need for drastic action. General Luce’s movement couldn’t be allowed to disrupt naval traffic in any more cities, and she certainly couldn’t go on attracting human followers seduced by her phony pacifism, her pretended naive desire to protect the oceans.
The public needed to hate mermaids as much, as implacably, as he did. As for the way to make that happen, well . . .
It was unfair and outrageous that all the real effort, all the imagination and initiative, fell to him. But it looked like he’d just have to take matters into his own hands.
30 The Net
“Hey, Luce?” Imani had swum up beside her just after Luce’s shift ended. They were floating together in the low waves halfway between the bridge and the crowd onshore. Luce was watching Eileen, who’d swum over to scan the faces in the crowd; she seemed to spend half her time there, swimming back and forth for hours. Obviously Eileen was searching for someone in particular, and Luce wondered who it was. And there was Yuan, leaning on the shore and talking with her new human friend Gigi again . . .
“Hey, Imani,” Luce murmured. “Everything okay?” In the days since the murder, they’d fallen back into the same steady routine of singing and sleep. Nothing had really changed, except for occasional reports that mermaids in other cities had joined the Twice Lost and renounced killing and raised waves of their own. Nausicaa was doing incredible work, that was clear, and everyone was feeling optimistic. Their friends onshore told them about increasing numbers of humans protesting on the mermaids’ behalf too. Almost everyone in the Twice Lost Army seemed convinced that the eagerly-awaited negotiations would start very soon, now that their movement was spreading and now that more and more humans seemed to be on their side. But as the days went by without a response from the human government, Luce only grew more anxious.
She could understand why so many of her followers were hoping for an easy victory. But this almost seemed
“It’s about Catarina,” Imani began, and Luce groaned inwardly. “She’s completely stopped showing up for her shifts, Luce. And some of the other mermaids over at the Mare Island camp say she’s been getting really angry for no reason and saying horrible things, like that Nausicaa persuaded you to betray everything mermaids stand for. I know she got jealous of Nausicaa, but still . . .”
Luce bit her lip. “Why does Catarina have to go and make
Imani looked at her for a long moment, her eyes deep and searching. “But Luce . . . you’re still her
Luce considered that. Delicate wands of mist stroked over the water, and by the shore it glowed mirror smooth and brilliantly silver. Gigi and Yuan were laughing hard about something, and the sight of their closeness brought tears into Luce’s eyes. Even if Catarina’s constant moodiness sometimes became exhausting, Luce did still love her. Maybe she
“I think she’s depressed, Luce. She thinks she’s losing you.” Imani’s voice was even softer than usual. “You should go talk to her.”
Luce sighed. The Twice Lost Army had swelled with the addition of refugees and drifters attracted by their fame, and a large mermaid encampment had sprung up under the wharves of the abandoned naval shipyards at Mare Island far in the north bay. The last thing Luce felt like doing was swimming that far, especially when it might mean another argument. But Imani was right: if Luce cared about Catarina’s feelings, she should do something to show it. “Okay. I’ll go. Imani . . .”
Imani only smiled silently, the silver water lapping around her dark shoulders.
“Thank you for . . . for reminding me to do the right thing. You always do.”
Luce knew more or less where to find the Mare Island camp, but she hadn’t actually been there before. When she surfaced fifty yards from its shore she was bewildered by the sweep and confusion of the island’s waterfront: rusty cranes painted mustard and navy and dusty green crisscrossed the sky, a row of collapsing barracks stood deep in swaying yellow grass, and graffiti mottled the scaling white warehouses with names densely layered in ruby and silver scrawl. Bridges arched everywhere behind the island, their iron beams a complicated geometric lace against the mist covering the hills. Swallows dipped overhead. It was as lonely in its way as the distant coast of Alaska had been. In that whole decrepit expanse she didn’t see a single human being.
But somewhere under the water, Mare Island wasn’t deserted at all. Luce dived again, skimming along the jagged piers that rambled out into the bay. She could hear voices licking through the water but so bent and trembling that it was hard to tell quite where they were coming from. She was swimming away from the tangle of cranes and desolate buildings, out to where a broad dark pier glowered just above the water’s surface. A charred, half-fallen shed leaned at its end, and as Luce approached it girls’ voices seemed to drift closer to her.
“General Luce! You came to see us!” It was the tan-skinned mermaid who’d sung beside Luce through the night after that shocking murder. “Um, do you remember me?”
“Of course I remember you. I was so sad that night, and hearing you sing—it helped keep me going.” Luce hesitated. “But I don’t know your name?”
“Thanks. I’m Elva.” She suddenly sounded shy. “Did you swim up here for a reason?”
“I have to find Catarina,” Luce said softly.
Elva’s expression darkened as she pointed into the deep shadows under the pier. “She’s back there, all the way at the shore. Look, if she gives you a hard time . . .”
Luce tried to smile, but her insides were tense with dread. “It’ll be okay.” She dived, dipping and weaving her way through a forest of swaying fins. There were even more mermaids here than in the encampment near Hunter’s Point. The low dark space was densely webbed with nets and hammocks. Mermaids curled half- submerged, dreaming or whispering.
Luce found her former queen slumped on her side on the gritty pebble shore. The pier formed a ceiling less than a foot above their heads, its rotting beams glittering with condensation and grubby with soot. Catarina’s arm stretched up the beach, her pale hand emerging from her pooling red-gold hair; she turned her head just enough to glance sullenly at Luce, then buried her face in the fiery tangles again. Luce reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. “Hey, Cat?”
