Cursed Tides Read online

  Almost three hundred years later, Ashe knew the answer was, definitely no, non, nyet, never. The path toward obtaining a soul was laden with bait-and-switch tactics.

  Heaven was not worth all that aggravation.

  “I’m not doing it.” Ashe folded her arms across her chest even though the defiant motion was far less satisfying as a translucent spirit. “It’s out of my job scope.”

  “Oh?” Valeria’s single word sounded like a deadly threat.

  Tightness closed around Ashe’s throat before common sense reclaimed her. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “I’m worried you’ll find a way to make me regret the fact that I can’t die.”

  A thin smile touched Valeria’s lips. “Persuasion’s my special gift.”

  Ashe huffed a sigh. “When I was recruited, I was told my job involved flying to warm countries to cool the air and prevent the spread of pestilence. I was supposed to carry the fragrance of flowers to spread health and restoration.” She waved her fingers, fairylike.

  “Those tasks are assigned to novices. You are not, and have never been, a novice.”

  Ashe scowled at Valeria even though she knew it was not Valeria’s fault she had been oversold on the path to soul-hood. She had been younger then and a fool. After a short, disastrous escapade on land and an ill-fated encounter with a human prince, she had to choose between dying and becoming sea foam or joining the Daughters of Air to earn her soul. She had chosen the latter.

  Hindsight was perfect, and always too late.

  Sea foam would have been the better choice.

  Instead of blending into the water cycle and partaking in an endless world tour, she had spent two hundred and ninety-seven years picking up after mankind’s worst excesses and stupidity. As an air sylph, she had herded category five hurricanes out to sea and contained the winds at Chernobyl to prevent radioactive waste from sweeping the globe.

  Cooling the air and pollinating flowers? Hah! If only.

  For the most part, mitigating global catastrophes had kept Ashe from dwelling upon everything she had risked, and everything she had lost. She had thrived as a minion of the air instead of the sea, but the new mission threatened to reopen the gates of her personal hell. And for what? The past was beyond redemption, and she was no longer a naive, gullible mermaid.

  “No,” Ashe repeated.

  “It’s both critical and urgent. I would not entrust it to merely anyone. This human must not die. He has a destiny to fulfill, and he needs both a protector and a guide.”

  “I’m not a babysitter. I have spent two hundred and ninety-seven years serving the Daughters of Air. That’s ninety-nine percent of a soul—”

  Valeria arched an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, souls are all-or-nothing deals.”

  “Exactly!” Ashe snapped. “I’m three years away from earning my soul. The next mission could make it or break it for me, and as far as I can tell from this assignment, breaking it has a massive lead on making it.”

  “Who among the Daughters of Air can command the respect of the merfolk?”

  Ashe arched her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder. “It’s not your lucky day. I don’t see anyone.”

  Valeria’s eyes narrowed.

  “If you think I can get any cooperation out of the merfolk, you’re crazy. They don’t like me.”

  “You were once one of the ocean’s creatures. You were once their princess.”

  “My father is long dead, as are all my half-siblings. The nymphs have attention spans smaller than fleas, and the sirens flaunt all laws. I can’t help you. I don’t even have a tail anymore.”

  “No one’s asking you to physically return to the ocean. After all, protecting humans requires being among humans.”

  “Which is exactly the problem. Do you know who he is?”

  “A freshly minted marine biologist with a passion for saving the oceans.”

  Ashe’s upper lip tugged up into a sneer. “Hah. You know what he is.”

  Valeria shrugged with the graceful ease of utter indifference. “He’s a person—one of eight billion on Earth. No different. No more special.” Their eyes met. “Twelve generations have passed since his ancestor rejected you. That human prince no longer has any power over you.” The challenge in Valeria’s eyes was clear. You are stronger than he is. Or aren’t you?

  Ashe ground her insubstantial teeth. How did Valeria always know exactly which button to push? The dancing lights within her astral form swirled into a frenzy. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  “Splendid. And Ashe…”

  She paused in the process of stepping through a limbo portal.

  Valeria’s gaze was flinty. “You’ll need your human form for this mission.”

  “But it’s mute and lame!”

  “Perhaps you should have made a better deal with the sea witch.”

  Ashe snarled low in her throat. How long did the consequences of bad decisions last?

  She knew the answer in her heart.

  Sometimes, forever…

  Now, sitting on the deck of her ship, the Veritas, her feet still hurting as if she had walked through fire and danced on sharp-edged rocks, Ashe knew that mistakes did not just last forever. They also pursued her, whatever form she took.

  She could conceal who she was from everyone—except herself.

  The swirl of air told her she was not alone. A few seconds later, Jinn screeched, “Intruder! Intruder!”

  Ashe chuckled, but did not turn to face Varun. The night was hers. The rain, the ocean, the world was hers. For a moment, she contemplated pushing him away with a stiff breeze, but realized it would be too childish, not to mention too hard to explain for someone like Varun who dealt with science, data, and rational explanations.

  He was no different from his great-several times removed-grandfather—a skeptical man so busy searching for facts that he missed the truth in front of his eyes.

  “Captain.” Varun’s voice was made for the sea, a rich and powerful tenor that seemed relaxed in spite of, or perhaps because of, the wildness of nature surrounding him.

  She turned and gestured. Jinn flew to her outstretched arm before hopping onto her shoulder. Her fingers danced her reply. Jinn rolled his eyes on her behalf and spoke for her. “What do you want?”

  “It was exceptional steering back there, through the storm.”

  “I know my ship, and you don’t know your limitations.”

  “How do you even teach a parrot to say the word limitations?”

  Telepathy—words placed directly in your mind, supplemented by an overly helpful parrot.

  “Limitations. Limitations. Limitations,” Jinn squawked, his tone irate. “Dumbass.”

  An overly helpful, foul-mouthed parrot.

  Varun gave Jinn an irritated look before meeting Ashe’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I realize now it was incredibly rude to burst in, uninvited, onto the bridge. I just didn’t know what was going on. More frequent updates wouldn’t have hurt.”

  “What would you have wanted to hear? We’re in the middle of the most vicious storm I’ve seen in my life, and we’re likely to die unless I focus entirely on getting us out of it instead of giving useless updates?”

  Varun grinned ruefully. “Point made.” His gaze flicked to the necklace she wore, then he took a step back. “Just wanted to say I’m sorry, and thank you.”

  Ashe’s fingers stilled, hesitating as her thoughts did, on the expected courtesies. She did not want to say “you’re welcome.” Neither did she want his apology or his thanks.

  She just wanted him to get his research done and fulfill his great destiny—whatever it was. She wanted to be done. So what if there were dead zones in the ocean? Did humans realize that most of the ocean in the twilight and midnight zones were devoid of life? That a mermaid could swim for several leagues and see nothing, not even a stray glimpse of light? Humans. They had an astounding ability to ignore growing crises, and then, in an instant, turn overzealous, their effort
s hurting more than helping. The ocean was the most resilient of the Earth’s ecosystems. It just had to be left alone long enough to save itself.

  It did not need an ambitious marine biologist who was only trying to make a name—a destiny—for himself.

  “Captain?”

  Ashe swung her head around sharply. She must have fixed him with a ferocious glare because his eyes widened in surprise. “Are you all right?” He poked out a finger, almost touching the furrow in her brow. “Looked like you were working yourself up into a huff.”

  A huff? Daughters of Air did not huff. They were far more likely to scream dead-still air into a hurricane.

  “Was it something I said?” he asked.

  More like something you are.

  “Would apologizing help, or should I just move on?” Varun seemed to have no trouble holding a running conversation despite her lack of response.

  She tilted her head and stared at him. If she—or rather Jinn—said nothing, how long would he stay just to talk to her? Or would he, like his illustrious ancestor, hasten on to more stimulating activities? Ashe was not sure she wanted the answers to those questions. Her fingers flicked. Jinn snickered. “Move along. Move along.”

  Varun nodded. “All right. I can take the hint.” He stepped back. His gaze dropped to her bare feet.

  He stiffened, his eyes narrowing.

  She gestured. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I just thought—” He met her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

  Chapter 3

  The captain’s feet had been blistered.

  Not small blisters like the ones Ondine complained of after wearing poor-fitting heels for hours. Red, swelling blisters covered the soles of the captain’s feet. How could she even walk on them?

  No woman could.

  A stray thought came to Varun’s mind, but he flicked it aside. What was wrong with him? He had spent decades scoffing at the old myths his family insisted were true, and now, twice in less than an hour, he had stumbled across things that made him question his vision, if not his sanity.

  The streak of silver riding the waves—he could have sworn it was the flick of a mermaid’s tail.

  Then he had caught a glimpse of the captain’s blistered feet—the mute captain’s blistered feet.

  Hadn’t the Little Mermaid been mute too?

  Perhaps, but he was certain she hadn’t had a rude and insulting parrot.

  Or if she had, that part had been edited out by Hans Christen Andersen.

  Little wonder. Jinn had amazing vocal versatility, but Varun fervently hoped the parrot did not actually understand some of the words it had said. Did it just say “dumbass” or did it really say and mean “dumbass?”

  Varun shook his head sharply. He was a scientist—cynical by nature and skeptical by training. His family had an old story of how his great-great-whatever-grandfather, some twelve generations earlier, had met a mermaid who had given up her tail for legs. For centuries, his family claimed that their story inspired Hans Christen Andersen’s tale of the Little Mermaid. Frankly, he would have settled for a family that stopped behaving like weird distant relations living on the border of fairyland. Who cared what nonexistent mermaids did in their free time when there were an infinite number of challenges and problems to be solved here in the real world?

  Varun scowled. He had spent too much time musing over the oddity of the captain and her parrot. He had to focus on his research. The water samples he had gathered along the way to the Sargasso Sea told a consistent story. The ocean was not what it was. In some parts of the ocean, the oxygen and hydrogen levels were sharply reduced. Sulfur, potassium, and bromide levels were on the rise. Carbon was through the virtual roof. The seawater was a liquid hell in which no fish or plants could live.

  Mere pockets, other scientists said, dismissing him as a rookie with no perspective, or worse, an axe to grind and a name to make for himself.

  They were wrong about him, but only the truth would exonerate him.

  And it was out there, in the inky black water. Stars glittered above, their minuscule light swallowed by the tossing waves.

  He did not know what lay beneath, but deep down there was the problem. Not up here on the ship. Not the parrot. Not the scowling charm of the mute captain. But if there were a pirate-queen—

  Varun reeled in his thoughts. Pausing at the doorway to the crew quarters, he glanced over his shoulder. The captain sat on the rail, looking out over the ocean, but she was no little mermaid, stranded on a rock, looking wistfully at the life she had left behind for the sake of a man. The captain was a flinty-eyed woman who had challenged both the sea and the skies. She had bested the storm. Mermaid. Hah! His imagination had gotten the better of him.

  There were no such things as mermaids.

  That night, he dreamed of lithe, silvery shapes darting through the ocean with the speed of a mako shark and the agile grace of a swordfish. Lean, muscular arms reached out to him, beckoning. Ocean currents tugged through long strands of hair in shades of pearlescent teal, aqua, and silver.

  The captain’s hair was black. Not a mermaid.

  Even whilst dreaming, he shook off the errant thought as he followed the undulating grace of two mermaids into the ocean’s depths. They went deeper than light could reach, the outlines of their sleek forms scarcely visible. Deeper and deeper, darker and darker, until he was alone in blackness so absolute he could not tell which way was up. The water suddenly turned cold, shards of ice forming like daggers. The blades swiveled in the water until their glittering tips all pointed at his chest.

  I’m dreaming.

  Even so, his heart pounded an unsteady rhythm. He kicked away, but water turned as viscous as mud and clung to his limbs. No amount of backward motion seemed to increase the distance between him and the icy daggers.

  Just a dream.

  Blood rushed through the veins in his head, making them pulse and throb. His heart thumped so loudly it seemed to vibrate the water around him. Only then did he become aware of something else moving in the darkness, flashes of silver in the inky black water.

  From the depths, they emerged, sleek as sharks and graceful as dolphins. Silver-scaled tails glowed iridescent with inner radiance; the perfection of classical sculptures stamped on their faces. Their long hair, streaks of green, blue, and deep purple, swayed in the underwater currents.

  They stared at him with the expressionless gaze of professional hunters, yet did not move until something—someone—else approached from behind them.

  Her hair was no longer dark, but blended sapphire and emerald hues like waves in motion. A necklace with an iridescent black pendant shaped like a fish scale hung around her neck. Recognition jolted through him; it was the flinty-eyed, perpetually irritated captain of the Veritas. Ashe?

  If she had a mermaid’s tail, it was lost in the darkness behind her.

  Their eyes met. She recognized him; that much was obvious in the upturn of her smirk.

  A wave of her hand unleashed the mermaids. They rushed toward him, upper lip lifted, revealing sharp, gleaming incisors.

  But their spray of icy daggers was even faster—

  Varun jerked awake. The dim orange night light in his cabin filled his vision, flooding him with relief. He pressed the sweaty palms of his hands against the tangled sheets. Just a dream…and a fanciful one at that. Mermaids. He scoffed. He had obviously had too much rich food and wine at dinner. He’d have to cut back. After all, they were only hours from the Sargasso Sea where his research would begin in earnest. He needed a clear head. He needed rest.

  His heart still thudded though, its beat erratic, as he lay back down on his bed. The captain—why was he dreaming of her?

  Varun awoke with a start, blinking hard against the sunlight pouring through the porthole to pool on the wooden floor of the cabin. Cursing under his breath, he scrambled out of his cabin. The distinctive calm blue waters, lined with trailing brown Sargassum seaweed, welcomed him to the Sargasso Sea. Henry Jackson
stood by the ship’s bow. The first mate glanced over his shoulder and grinned at Varun. “Right on time. Not even the storm could throw the captain off schedule.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me? Did we just arrive?”

  “About two hours ago. Captain said there was no rush. We’ll be here for a bit to make some repairs.”

  “Something broken?”

  “A couple of things got tossed about in the storm. The most critical damage is the kitchen freezer. Unless you want to be eating food out of a can for the rest of your trip, fixing the freezer is taking priority over the water damage on the engines. We’ll be sitting cozy for a bit while the captain works through her priorities.” Jackson’s voice did not contain even a hint of sarcasm. Food was a huge deal on the Veritas. The first mate studied the sky and then the sea. “You going down there?”

  “That’s why we’re here, right?” Varun squinted against the glare of the sunlight.

  Jackson frowned. “Alone? What about your assistant?”

  Varun stared at him, perplexed, before realization dawned. “You mean Ondine?” He chuckled. “She’s my girlfriend, not my assistant. Her father’s paying for the charter of this ship.”

  “Really? Haven’t seen her since we left port three days ago. Figured she was shy or seasick.” Jackson shook his head. “I think it’s bad luck having a woman on a ship.”

  A century after women’s lib? “Your captain is a woman.”

  “That’s different.

  “How long has she been captain here?”

  “On this ship? The Veritas doesn’t have a regular crew. Like most of us, she was contracted specifically for this charter. She’s been in the business for a while though. Got a reputation for a fair and steady hand. A man could almost forget she’s a woman.”

  “Don’t let her or Jinn hear you say that.”

  Jackson laughed. “Just feed the parrot a handful of pistachios. The feathered fiend loves those nuts.”

  “Doesn’t it hold her back—the captain, I mean—being mute?”

  “Do you see it holding her back? She got us through that storm, didn’t she?” Jackson’s expression turned thoughtful. “That was a bad one—worst I’ve seen in many years—but she stared it down, almost as if she expected it.”