Take me to the Deepest Blue
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

She was the one to pull away first. Being in Nick’s embrace like this made her feel as though she had betrayed her own kind. There were no specific rules forbidding Changed Ones from situations like these, but she hadn’t yet made up her mind. Her heart throbbed at the thought of leaving him indefinitely; still, she needed time to rethink all of this.

“I have to go back.” She ran her fingers through Nick’s damp hair, his soft curls now straight and wet. If only she could bring him underwater with her. She ached for them to co-exist in a world without her having to give up anything—an ideal world, to be sure.

“Yeah.”

His eyes had lost the luster so tangible only seconds before. He must be disappointed at her decision. She wanted to say something—anything—to reassure him. But there was not much she could think of that would do, so she kissed him again— briefly this time.

“I’m not sure how long before I can come back,” she said, the last few words are almost inaudible. Nick was not a merman, but she felt he could read her mind better than anyone she knew underwater.

“That’s fine. I’ll be here.” He nodded at her and smiled, his voice confident.

Seeing him like this made her heart swell. Right now, at this very moment, Nick was so different from when they had met when she first surfaced. Or the lifeless Nick she had rescued from the shipwreck. He was so full of spark, and it made her feel like he was a strong current propelling her toward where she needed to go.

When Narya returned to her ocean grid, she remained as discreet as possible. She avoided the merpeople she knew and, when asked about her transitions, gave only short, curt answers that painted an uneventful life above water.

There were also a few brief encounters with the Elders from her grid.

“How sure are you that we only have nine transitions?” she questioned more than once.

Most shrugged off her question, while some took on curious and defensive looks. She grew bolder each time she asked the question, her voice firmer, and her stare a confident one. After ten days underwater, a young merman, not much older than she was, approached her. He projected an unspoken authority, eyeing her with an air of superiority. He must surely have been sent by the Elders.

“You should stop asking questions here.”.

“But I—”

The merman dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

“You should ask elsewhere.” His cold gaze lingered before it flickered upwards. Was he hinting at something? Up, as in on land? Who would she seek for help? And then Jane’s face—that icy look and her authoritative air—came to mind.

The merman remained motionless, his thoughts quiet. But a small grin escaped him when he read her mind. He swam away after successfully having relayed his message.

Tossing on her seagrass bed, she barely got any sleep. As exhausted as she was, her mind kept replaying the recurring scenes of the narrow escape from Pete’s lab, and the last words she had exchanged with Nick. But it was time to go now—she pushed herself up with her arms, swishing her tail as she prepared to surface for what may or may not be the last time.

Earlier today, she had been able to sneak into a meeting of a group of merpeople anxiously preparing for their transitions, and she found out about several landing points. She needed to go back but couldn’t do so without any clothes. She reckoned that the possibility of her running into any more benevolent strangers were slim.

And now, as she swam behind the two mermaids that were going to surface on the beach where Nick first found her, she had to keep a safe distance until they were close to shore. Knowing what lies ahead for them, she wished them well—all the luck that they would need to get through the first days. Unfortunately for them, however, they were not off to a good start, mainly due to what she was about to do. As they neared the shore, she quickened her pace, and sped past them, as she hurried to their destination.

She emerged from the water first and marveled at how the air rejuvenated her insides as she breathed. Near the landing-point rocks, she saw a pile of neatly folded clothes along with a large beach towel. Her transition took less than five seconds, and she barely felt the pain on her legs other than a faint tingling sensation. Now familiar with the use of her human legs, she hurried toward the clothes, fearing the other mermaids were not far behind her. She finished changing and spotted a woman with her back to her.

She had almost run past her when the woman turned around.

“Narya!”

Alicia was dressed in a black jumper, her face shielded by a large-brimmed, black sun hat. She was obviously trying to appear discreet, but her odd outfit succeeding only in doing the opposite.

“Oh, hi! I . . . have to borrow this.” Smiling guiltily, Narya pointed to the clothes she now wore. “You should go and get more clothes. There are two more transitions behind me somewhere. I’ll see you later!”

She quickened her pace before Alicia could say anything else, kicking the sand as she ran.

“This is it. The end of our careers as marine biologists as we know it,” Louise said. “Oh, shit. We didn’t even start yet, did we?” She grinned at Nick, who looked equally exhausted.

For the past two weeks, they had rushed through their final thesis paper—a sudden deadline that Pete had decided to surprise them with upon their return to the Bahamas. Despite his notorious reputation, he was considered a fair grader, and she sincerely hoped he would not let their personal clashes affect his assessment of their hard work.

“Yep, here it goes.” Nick knelt and took the two envelops representing their sweat and blood for the past two years on the island and slid them through the crack under Pete’s door.

Louise patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. “Well, it wasn’t all for nothing,” she said. If Pete failed them, she had plenty of alternatives planned anyway. One of them involved trashing his boat and vandalizing his beloved Mercedes Benz.

“Let’s get out of here,” Nick replied, signaling for her to follow him.

It was strange not having Narya around, and whenever her name did come up, an awkward silence would swiftly follow. Louise wanted to talk about it—she excelled at confrontation—but Nick had made it clear he wasn’t up for it. Every time, without fail, he would respond to her probing with silent, deadly glares. So they left it at that. The Narya Problem remained untouched and unresolved. The fact that she was a mermaid she was a mermaid was simply ignored, shelved into the deepest drawer they could replace in their awestruck minds.

They walked to the nearest bar, and Louise hopped onto a stool at the counter, while Nick settled into the seat next to her. This would be her first drink of the day, and definitely not the last.

“I’ll take a mojito. And make that double shot,” she said breezily.

“It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, Lou.”

“Exactly, the night . . . well, the afternoon—is young, my friend.”

“Well, Lou, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Me neither.”

Nick was her anchor. It unsettled her to see him so lost, and it made her sick to know that she had been instrumental in Narya’s disappearance.

As if on cue, the big screen above the bar lit up, and a perfume commercial featuring Ken Lauer began.

Louise was almost salivating before Nick stood up, his face unreadable.

“I just remembered that I had something . . . I’ll see you around.”

She knew exactly what she was going to do as she entered the familiar building. She walked past Alicia’s desk before she could be stopped and entered the office without knocking. Her visit was likely already expected.

Jane sat in her chair, facing the ocean view from her office window. Her face was hidden, but her stiff body language indicated she sensed Narya’s presence.

“Ah, Narya.”

“I have three transitions left,” Narya said.

Jane swiveled around in her chair. She sat upright with her legs crossed tightly against each other. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she was dressed in a somber grey suit, exactly as how Narya remembered her when they first met.

“Is that so?” She began to shuffle papers around on her meticulously clean desk, appearing to look distracted and busy.

“But I think that I have more,” Narya spoke slowly, her mind anchored unto a conspiracy theory brought to light by Keames. “In fact, I don’t think there’s actually a limit.”

Jane’s hand paused as she reached for her pen.

“No limit?”

Narya tilted her chin and leveled her gaze with the former Elder of her grid, something she wouldn’t have dared do underwater a few weeks ago. But they were both in foreign territory with a different set of rules.

“Yes, I think it’s all made up.”

“I see. And, who do you suppose—made this up?” Jane leaned on her elbows, her fingers interlocked like she was preparing to pray.

“I can only suppose the ones who want to keep us away from here.”

Jane shook her head slightly and her eyes rested on Narya. A look of resolution crossed her face.

“Everyone has a choice, you know that.”

“Yes, but most make that choice based on fear. Fear of not being able to go back.” Narya’s thoughts drifted to Alicia and all the others who had returned underwater having been convinced they had neared their final transition. Few merpeople had the courage to remain changed permanently.

“Then it’s up to everyone to take that risk—that leap of faith.” Jane got up from her seat and she paced leisurely around the room.

“Not everyone has the courage to test it out.” She picked up a framed photograph and dusted it with the corner of her sleeve. “The limit . . . well, to be frank, I don’t think any one knows for sure how many make up the limit. Perhaps there isn’t one.”

Narya inhaled deeply. Was she finally on the right track? Was Jane admitting to the fact that the transitions are in place to keep the merpeople away from land? From exploring the half humanness that they all possessed and instinctively craved?

“If there’s no limit, then why did the Elders come up with a number?”

“That was the case in the past. But now, as you’ve evidently found out—that number has changed. We have changed—evolved . . . somehow.” She let out a small sigh, as though this were a trivial subject she had spent too much time explaining.

“Possibly because everything around us is changing. The climate, the reefs, the ocean itself—you know this. The limit is there simply to . . . simplify things.” She narrowed her eyes and nodded, as if to convince herself.

“That’s all? There’s no better explanation other than things are changing?”

It was not the answer she had hoped for. She wanted to hear that the transitions would be unlimited. That she wouldn’t have to choose. That, somehow, she would have an easy way out. She didn’t expect vagueness from Jane, who usually aimed to be meticulously certain about everything.

“I’m afraid not. So it remains a mystery. As with most precious things, don’t you think?” Jane’s shoulders relaxed. She returned to her chair and laid her head back.

“Tell me, what would you choose?” She folded her hands and looked at Narya, anticipating an answer, appearing genuinely interested in what she would say.

“I haven’t decided,” Narya replied. “But I will, soon.” She ached to see Nick again, but to stay here, so close to her home grid and unable to return underwater for fear of her transitions ending—that would be torment. And she may not be able to bear it.

“And after all this time, you’ve decided to stay here? For good?” she asked the former Elder.

“Well . . .” Jane looked at her as though this was the silliest question she had ever heard. “Who else would ensure the smooth transitions of the Explorers up here? Alicia?”

She cleared her throat and Narya knew this was as much as Jane would divulge.

“I see,” she muttered softly. Everything remained uncertain. She was still swimming in murky waters; there was no clarity for her, nor for anyone else.

“I will give you one piece of advice, though,” Jane said without raising her eyes from the document she was reading. “Steer clear of marine biologists.”

Narya couldn’t help but smile and leave Jane’s counsel unanswered. This was one recommendation she was unwilling to heed.