Deep Betrayal (Lies Beneath #2) (29 page)

“She also had a brother named Dóiteán, which means ‘blaze.’ They were fire and water, and they hated each other. One day they got in a terrible fight and Maighdean Mara ran far away. She came west and found the cave behind Copper Falls.”

Calder took my hand, fumbling with my fingers.

“Back in the day, my grandfather always told me that Maighdean Mara was the ancestor of … the others.”

“The others?” I asked.

“The others. Those creatures who are part woman, part animal.” He discreetly stole another glance at my pendant and caught my eye for just a second before looking away. “Excuse me, but shouldn’t you know all this already?”

“I heard these legends go back to the Great Flood,” I said, ignoring his question. “As in Noah’s ark.”

“What I’ve told you is ancient legend. But she has been seen as recently as the late eighteen hundreds. After World War I, there was even a paper written, analyzing the scientific evidence and suggesting Maighdean Mara was still living, deep within the lake.” Dr. Coyote smiled and pulled another book off the shelf. “It’s all in here. You read it.”

“Some boys from Cornucopia suggested she was a monster,” I said.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no. She’s a great benefactor.”

“But that could change, right?” I asked. “If people stopped paying attention to her, she could, like, retaliate?”

My question seemed to make Dr. Coyote uncomfortable. He frowned at his desk and closed the book without answering.

“Dr. Coyote,” Calder said, “if someone were to look for her, where would you recommend he go?”

Dr. Coyote flipped open the second book to a page with a nautical chart of the lake. “Here,” he said, marking a spot between Isle Royale and Thunder Bay with his finger. He wrote down the coordinates on a piece of scrap paper, slid them to Calder and said, “That would be
my
first stop.”

Dr. Coyote narrowed his eyes. “If you do go looking …” He got up and opened a drawer, pulling out a linen bag that
bulged at its seams. He untied the string and dumped a pile of Indian Head pennies on the table, many tinged green with patina. They rang out as they knocked together. “My grandfather gave me this bag when I graduated from dental school. They were
his
father’s before that. He said to give some of them to Maighdean Mara every year to thank her for my good fortune.”

“And did you?” I asked.

“I was young. I was embarrassed by an old man’s foolishness.” He scooped the pennies back into the bag and handed it to me. “When you get there, give her these for me. They’re long overdue.”

“We couldn’t take those. You should offer them yourself,” I said.

“I’m sixty-three years old, and I’ve lived here my whole life.” He pressed the bag of copper coins into my palm and folded my fingers around it. “If I haven’t got myself up there by now, I never will. I leave this in your capable hands.”

He lightly brushed one finger against my pendant, then looked me directly in the eye so I’d know it wasn’t an accident. He said, “I’m sure she has no interest in me now that I’m an old man, but if you think of it, say hi to Nadia for me.”

W
hen we got back into the car, I pulled the map out of the glove compartment and started to plot our route. Calder kept his eyes straight ahead and left the car in park. “It’ll take us six hours to drive to Thunder Bay, and that’s just one way,” he said.

I looked at the legend and walked my fingers down the interstate. “Twelve hours? Plus who knows how long it will take us to find her. My mom’s never going to let me be gone that long.”

“Have you tried calling for your dad again?”

I folded up the map deliberately, taking my time to line up the creases before I answered. “No. Have you?”

“I’ve tried, but he’s not responding. I thought maybe you might have had better luck.”

“We don’t need his help,” I said.

“He’s not the bad guy,” said Calder, leaning toward me. “He’s just a little lost right now.” He pressed his head to mine. “Three searchers are better than two, particularly when one can’t swim very fast.”

I gave him a little head butt and he sat back, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, fine. I get it. You don’t want his help.”

“How far a swim is it to Isle Royale?” I asked.

“Just because driving would take too long doesn’t mean we’re swimming. It’s over a hundred nautical miles. That’s too far for you.”

“I can handle it,” I said.

“No.”

I pushed harder. “Our little boat can’t make it that far. It’s too small to cross that much open water. Swimming is our only option.”

Calder shrugged and adjusted the rearview mirror. “No problem. I’ll get us a bigger boat. There’s plenty to choose from in the marina.”

“Let’s not add to our troubles, okay? Maybe the Pettits would lend us their Sun Sport.”

“Which one of us is better equipped to ask for it?” asked Calder, chuckling low under his breath.

“Let me try the traditional way,” I said. “I’ll ask politely. They might say yes.”

He wrapped his arm around my neck and pulled me close. “Gotta love your optimism. Just let me know when you get the no, and I’ll pick us up something nice.”

* * *

In the end, I was right. Jack might have fallen into hysterics when I told him why we needed the boat, but he handed me the keys anyway, saying “You’re delusional. We both know who’s behind it all. Quit being so gullible.”

I ignored Jack and prepared for our trip, packing food and putting on the best fate-tempting outfit I could find: a Jimi Hendrix Isle of Wight Festival T-shirt, dated August 1970. If this was going to be our last hurrah, so be it.

Calder didn’t seem as fatalistic. I wondered if he planned on leaving me alone in the boat while he searched. If he did, he was a slow learner.

Calder checked the gas tank and filled an extra can. He spread maps on the captain’s stand. “I’ve never gone that far north above the surface,” he explained. “I need to get my bearings.”

“How long will it take to get there?”

“About three hours if we really power it.”

“That’s still so long.” I lifted the seats and pulled out the white vinyl cushions, uncovering Jack’s cinder-block anchor, and his dad’s scuba suit. Calder started the engine, and I leapt off the boat to untie the dock lines. As Calder backed from the slip, I walked the boat back, holding the line just as I’d seen Gabby do, and jumped onto the side rail as it pulled away.

“Very good,” Calder said. “I’m impressed.”

Once we cleared the no wake zone, Calder pushed the throttle forward and headed north, toward Basswood. The closer we got, the more the muscles in Calder’s jaw flexed and jumped.

“What’s wrong?” I finally asked over the drone of the engine. “You know Maris isn’t there. They’re probably still camping on Oak.”

“Just bad memories,” he said.

“Tell me.”

He looked over at me with a frown, sighed, and cut the engine. The momentum of our wake caught up with us and the boat bobbed several times before the water settled.

“This is where they trapped me. This is where I was when I heard you agree to jump.”

“Oh.” I should have known by the look on his face not to ask. I got up and reached for the key to restart the engine. We didn’t have to talk about this. It was better that he kept his mind clear. We had other things to worry about than the past. But he caught my hand.

“This is where I was when I saw you, through Tallulah’s mind, at the top of the cliff, and realized I could never make it back in time.”

“You did make it back.”

“Not in time to save you.” He bowed his head and scowled at the floor of the boat.

“That’s not the way I remember it.”

“You were barely conscious, Lily. How would you remember anything?” He seemed mad now, and I sat down on the seat.

“Okay. I’ll bite. What’s this really about?” I asked. “You should be focused on other things right now.”

“I wanted to be a hero, but I couldn’t do it.”

“I didn’t want to be saved,” I reminded him. “
I
was trying to do the saving. If you had interfered, they’d still be after my dad.”

Neither of us spoke for a while, and the waves sloshed rhythmically against the hull.

“I’ll never understand you, Lily. No ordinary girl would have done what you did.”

“I’ve never claimed to be ordinary.”

“Right,” he said, drawing out the word. “You’re a Half.”

“What do you think that means, exactly? That’s what Pavati called us, too.”

“Pavati?”

I forgot I hadn’t mentioned her little visit. I kept going. “Aren’t we
all
half? Except for you, of course, but Maris, Pavati, Dad—they all had human fathers and mermaid mothers. They’re Halfs, too. If Pavati was to have a baby—”

“Don’t make me laugh, but, yeah, I see what you’re saying. The thing is, you’re the reverse. You have a merman father and human mother.”

“And that makes a difference?”

“Apparently, it makes a very fortunate difference. It’s what’s keeping you from busting out with a tail.”

“I don’t see that as a good thing. If I could swim faster …”

Calder started up the boat again, drowning me out, and followed the Bayfield Peninsula around to Raspberry Island, cutting north between it and York. The farther north we traveled, the more my muscles tightened with trepidation. Calder must have been nervous, too, because he barely spoke over the next few hours, except to shout out meaningless comments about the islands, or the depth of the water, or finally the Rock of Ages lighthouse off Isle Royale.

Just north of the lighthouse, Calder slowed the boat and quieted the motor. He picked up our earlier conversation.

“I’ve been thinking, Lily, that it is a very
good
thing, you
being a Half. If you were a full-on mermaid, think what that would mean. That would mean the whole package. The whole enchilada. You’d be miserable. I’d be right back where I started. We’d both be hunting the lake for kayakers.”

“I can’t speak for you, but I doubt
I’d
be miserable. As long as we were together, we’d still be happy.”

“I’d like to think so, but the truth is we have no way of knowing. This is going to sound harsh, but based on everything I’ve been taught, you and Sophie shouldn’t exist. Remember I told you mermen aren’t supposed to reproduce? That’s why Maris was so skittish around you on Oak Island. You were wondering about that, weren’t you? She doesn’t know what to make of merman offspring. She thinks you’re a freak of nature or something.”

“That’s a bit ironic, don’t you think?”

“To you, maybe.”

I laced my fingers through his. “Do you think I’m a freak of nature?”

“Absolutely. Just my type.”

Your type
, I thought.
Is that the best you can do?
“Remember when you busted me for eavesdropping?”

“Vividly.”

“I heard my dad ask you … about how you felt about me?”
I should be thoroughly flogged. Why am I doing this? Just shut up, Lily. Shut up before it’s too late
. “I never heard your answer.”

Calder turned the key and cut the engine. The silence was startling.

“You know how I feel about you,” he said. I couldn’t help but notice the strange tightness in his eyes. “I’ve made no secret about it.”

“You need me,” I said.

“Yes.”

“People
need
lots of things.”

The corners of his mouth flinched upward, but if it was supposed to be a smile it was barely perceptible. “What do you want me to say, Lily?”

Say that you love me. Before I do. Say it out loud
. “It doesn’t matter what I want you to say. It matters what you want to say.”

“This isn’t exactly the right moment,” he said.

“We’re about to go looking for a potentially killer water spirit. There might not be any other moments.”

I didn’t see where he pulled it from, but Calder rolled the dagger handle around in his palm. “Your dad wanted to know my intentions. But what I want doesn’t matter in the end.”

“The end of what?”

“Summer.” Calder motored our boat slowly across the water now. It barely felt like we were moving. “When fall comes—assuming we’re both still alive—I’ll need to look for warmer waters. It’ll be time for you to start college.”

“I don’t need college if I’m going to be a poet. All I need is inspiration.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little naive?”

“Wherever you go when summer’s over, I’m going with you,” I said, my voice raising an octave.

“You are?” Then his face fell. “I can’t have you do that.”

“Why? Would I cramp your style in the Bahamas?”

He scowled at me. “This isn’t a joke.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not. I love you, Calder. And I want to hear you say you love me, too.”

“It’s just a word, Lily.”

“So you’re telling me you can’t say it.”

He shifted his shoulders and fidgeted nervously with the nautical charts, folding them messily and storing them away. “I’ve said it. Once, when you were asleep. Just to see how it sounded.

“Thing is, Lily, I never thought love was possible. Not for me. Not for my kind. Then you came along and changed that. I
have
allowed myself to love you—” He broke off and looked at me, his eyes full of pain. Then he sighed in exasperation. At me? At himself?

“Please understand,” he said. “It feels too dangerous. When I look back on my life, I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I can’t lose you, too.

“Not saying the word out loud … not admitting it to the universe, maybe it’s stupid, but this is my way of keeping you safe.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but—”

“I can’t think about this now, Lily. We’re here. This is the spot Dr. Coyote marked. It’s time to go in.”

His words caught me unprepared, and I looked around nervously. Dr. Coyote’s approximation of Maighdean Mara’s whereabouts seemed more likely to be accurate than the Cornucopia boys’, but did that also mean she wasn’t the monster they thought she was?

Dr. Coyote had called her a benefactor. I didn’t like the idea of attacking something that had taken such care of human beings. But then again, if she had turned on us, if she was now a killer … Once more, I hoped the dagger was sufficiently sharp.