HARRY SWAM BACK AND FORTH ALONG THE WALKWAY
outside Ceto’s Bahamian Palace, waiting for her guards to announce him. They’d probably shove a mouth guard in his jaw, too. The mother of all sea monsters was ob-sessive about her security.
Like he’d try to take a bite out of her. The gods might have stipulated what she could and couldn’t do with her goddess powers, but some magic was stronger than none, and since he was a mere mortal, he wasn’t about to test her. He didn’t have a death wish.
What he did have was a hyper sense of justice. Sharks had been getting a bad rap ever since that ridiculous Human propaganda thirty-some selinos ago, giving all sharks a bad name, not just the Great Whites. He’d lost a lot of family members over the selinos to the hysteria Humans had created.
The annoyingly ironic thing was that Great Whites were rather bite-happy. Stupid idiots. Couldn’t tell a sea lion from a Human… Now all sharks were paying the price.
Fine, then. Let the Greats make their own argu¬ment with The Council, but Hammerhead attacks on Humans were out of necessity, not stupidity. It wasn’t as if Bipeds were so tasty that they were a sought-after delicacy. Most of them didn’t have enough meat on their bones to make it worthwhile anyway. As for the angst that happened afterward… nah. Not worth the effort.
The Council owed them representation, but Harry had been beating that dead seahorse for selinos with no results. He was done leaving things up to protocol— and to the Fates. Gods knew, those “ladies” were fickle enough to find offense with anything.
No. He wanted this resolved in his lifetime—which was why he was about to propose something to Ceto he thought she’d go for. It never hurt to have a backup plan, and Ceto was his. Even though the bitch had kept him waiting the entire night and he’d missed Angel’s late-night return to the sea that was all the talk around the cooler water, Ceto always got results.
Just like he would when he saw Lou and A.C. and the rest of the clowns who’d let Angel escape. Son-of-a-barracuda…
Thank the gods, Roger had had the good sense to let him know what was happening. It was worth every scrap of chum he could steal from those idiot Bipeds to pay the crane to keep an eye on things on land.
A pair of European man-o’-wars swung the white marble doors of Ceto’s palace inward with their ten-tacles, the rush of water sucking any sea life strolling outside the gates in with him. Not that there was much. Ceto wasn’t what anyone would call a good neighbor.
But Harry went along for the ride. Let Ceto have her power play; he was about to offer her a big enough op-portunity she’d be bowing before him when all was said and done.
“The goddess will see you now,” said a tiger shark. “This way.”
Harry followed him down a long, domed tunnel deco¬rated in abalone and oyster. Chandelier squid mantles,
lit by hatchetfish and strung with pearls, dangled from the ceiling, making the whole place sparkly and girly. Ceto had invested heavily in her palace—taking the I-am-goddess-hear-me-roar thing a bit too seriously, in his opinion.
The tunnel opened into an amphitheater—which it had once been. Ceto floated—of course—on a raised dais made of glass, beneath which the most colorful of the local tropicals swam. Ionic columns held a canopy of sailcloth above her head. Probably stolen from one of her victims—she did love to live up to her Queen of the Bermuda Triangle reputation. Her chair was a sea sponge she’d bewitched into a throne for that very pur-pose. Ceto liked true creature comforts.
“Ah, Harry. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She swept a taloned—that is, manicured—hand before her, indicating the kowtowing area of the orchestra pit in front of her.
When the previous dynasty had ruled Atlantis, this building had been the in place. Full of hedonism and free spirits, it’d been their final corruption. The gods had reclaimed the throne for Poseidon’s heirs and moved Atlantis under Bermuda, giving Ceto, he’d heard, the opportunity to get this place for a song. Literally.
Harry tried to keep the smile off his face. The or-chestra pit. She was really overdoing it. But Harry went along with it. Sometimes playing to her vanity was the best offense.
“Good day, Ceto. You’re looking lovely, as usual.” Her malachite hair squirmed around her head, also as usual, and her twin tails shifted through the full spec-trum of colors. The false image of relaxation didn’t fool Harry for a second.
No one showed up at any of Ceto’s palaces with¬out reason. This wasn’t a swim-by visit and they both knew it.
Harry settled himself in the pit as best he could while still managing to writhe enough to keep water moving over his gills. It was the one thing he hated about being a shark. Other fish could remain still, but sharks, for whatever reason, weren’t granted swim bladders. If he stopped moving, he’d drown. Rumor had it that some ancestor had annoyed a god so severely that the god had forced this on the shark’s descendants. Probably a Great White.
“Ah, Harry, such a charmer.” Ceto motioned for one of her Serving Nautiluses to offer him a snack.
Harry didn’t have as much luck keeping the smile off his face this time. The cephalopod acted as if Harry was going to take a bite of him. A little too self-important was that Nautilus. They were even worse tasting than Bipeds.
Harry shook his head, and the Nautilus left as fast as his gaseous escape mechanism—very appropriate term in Harry’s opinion—would allow.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Ceto, but I’m here on an urgent matter.”
“Oh?” The sea monster leaned forward, her shell-fillers almost spilling out of the Human top she wore.
He didn’t get the fascination she had with their cloth-ing. It tasted awful, was a pain in the tail to pick out of his teeth, and ruined the presentation as far as he was concerned. Still, whatever floated her boat.
Harry quickly explained his complaint with The Council, knowing he had a kindred spirit in Ceto, then
mentioned Angel’s escape and how she’d ended up on land. And the fact that she was now back in the sea.
“So where do I come in?” Ceto motioned for her personal Nautilus and took a handful of mussels off the platter he offered, crunching them one at a time. “I’m not setting a fin on land.” She fluttered all four of the fins in question.
“That wasn’t my plan. I want to capture her.”
“So why involve me? Just go bite the twit.” She snatched up a handful of prawns.
“How’s Joey doing?” Joey had been the Human re-ward the gods had given Ceto during that whole Reel fiasco. Harry waited for her answer—and her reaction. Joey, he knew, could be a sore subject.
Ceto dropped the prawn that was halfway to her mouth. “Oh, gods, don’t get me started.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t shut up. He’s either complaining about the accommodations, barking about his rights—as if he has any—or screaming in pleasure. And, frankly, the screaming is getting on my nerves the most. The man is a selfish hog. Sure, he gets to enjoy it, but me? Pleh. The guy wouldn’t find the Mariana Trench if I dropped him in it, let alone anything else. Some prize he turned out to be.”
TMI, but the info fit with his plan. “So how would you like another one?”
“Another Joey?” Ceto’s mouth twisted in disgust. “No thank you.”
“Not Joey. Another Human.”
Ceto raised one of her eyebrows, took a mussel off the platter, and ran it over her lips. “Go on.” She cracked the shells between her teeth.
“Here’s what I’ve got. I want to capture Angel and stash her here. Ransom her.”
Ceto spit the shells at him. One hit him in the star-board eye. Great.
“Sorry, Harry, but I’ve done my time with The Council. They’re still annoyed with me over my last infraction, in case you’ve forgotten. I highly doubt they’d be willing to give me another Human if I abduct one of their princesses.”
“No, no. You misunderstand me, Ceto. I’ll do the abducting. You’ll just be loaning out your palace for a while as a holding cell. There’s not much else in the ocean that will hold her. And you don’t even have to be here. You could leave today, then I can bring her here, lock her up, and no one will be the wiser. Once my demands have been met, I’ll release her.”
“So where does the other Human come into play?” “Angel is interested in one.”
Ceto cackled like the witch she could be. “You’re kidding.”
He swung his head from side to side. “Looks like Fisher won’t end up with any full-blooded grandchil-dren at this rate.”
“Three out of five of his spawn are hooked on Humans. Ah, the delicious irony.” Ceto popped another mussel in her maw.
“Right. So, Angel’s interested in a Human. And he has a son.”
“A child?” Ceto sucked in enough water Harry thought she might choke.
There was nothing Ceto wanted more in this world than a child. Human, Mer, monster… the race didn’t matter to her since the gods had forbidden her to procreate.
“Yeah. Angel was singing to the Human and you know what that means. He’s under her spell. So we’ll grab her, and he and his kid will be right behind. You can have them in return for the use of your palace.”
“And I can keep the child. Turn him even…” Ceto picked up a shrimp and studied him, waving the crusta-cean under her nose. “It could work…”
Oh, yeah. Ceto had taken the bait. He had her on board now.
Angel wasn’t going to get away. This time, The Council would have to give in to his demands.
Or else.