Read Online Vicious Deep by Zoraida Cordova - Free Book Online Page A

on!
    Dad’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “I’d always wake up with a bottle of funny-shaped glass seashells or broken pieces of jewelry on my deck—”
    Doesn’t sound much different from the stuff she still collects in those trunks in their bedroom. “Let me guess. Mom would have her trusty but endearingly clumsy seagull friend deliver them to you? Am I right?”
    Dad snorts, but Mom doesn’t appreciate my humor. She folds her arms and sniffs. “Absolutely not. Seagulls are vile, nasty things. And back then I could control the water.”
    â€œYou can’t anymore?”
    She shakes her head. “I showed myself to David. I didn’t usually do that sort of thing—”
    â€œâ€”that’s what all the mermaids say,” he winks.
    â€œâ€”I didn’t! My sisters were the ones always revealing themselves to humans. It was fine if they wanted to take humans as mates—for a short while—but they were careless. They always let them drown , and then Father would be furious at me because he always put me in charge to watch over them.
    â€œOn this last trip, when it was time to leave, I didn’t want to go. I begged my father. He granted our wish to be together. He stripped my tail. Then I had you.”
    â€œThat’s the SparkNotes version, right?”
    â€œYes,” she says, “it’s a long story.”
    â€œWhat’re you, like, a hundred? You’ve got plenty of time to tell it. Plus, it’s not like I’m going anywhere, unless we toss me back into the Atlantic.”
    They’re both about to protest, their fingers pointing up at my face, all don’t-you-talk-to-us-like-that. But the faucet comes on by itself again. Water sloshes everywhere. There’s a soft light coming from the faucet in the bathtub. Dad keeps twisting the handles to turn it off, but that doesn’t work. There’s a loud popping sound, followed by a tiny fish that flows right into the tub. “I hope this isn’t a regular thing, because the downstairs neighbors are going to complain.”
    The water trembles. Something bumps and pushes against my tail. The water glows so brightly that I have to look away. There’s a second splash, and the wind gets knocked out of me by a knee. My tail, with a mind of its own, knocks everything in its reach onto the floor. I try to pull myself as upright as I can. When I look again, he’s taken full form. He’s landed completely on top of me. He pushes himself up by holding the sides of the tub, as though he’s afraid his legs will give out.
    He takes in my mom, standing with the bottom of her dress soaking up the water, and Dad, looking more amused than should be allowed for someone sitting on the toilet. Naked guy notices he’s naked and uses his hand to cover his junk. He tosses his hair back. The dark, wet curls stick to his neck and around a face that is familiar, but I just can’t place it. Not that I want to. I want him to get out of my bathtub and put some clothes on. Instead the guy turns to me and bows —stands with his back straight in the world’s best attempt to look poised, stoic even.
    â€œWell,” he says, clearing his throat, “this is awkward.”

Sorry,” the naked guy standing in the bathtub says, “so sorry.”
    There’s a trace of not so much an accent but an over-enunciating of words. He looks down at the deflating bubble bath and thankfully sits immediately. He turns around and turns the faucet off. It stays off.
    His hair is the same length as mine, right to the base of our ears and messy in curls like we spend too much time at the beach. There’s this sculpture in the Greek section at the Met that Layla dragged me to a few weeks ago that looks just like him. He doesn’t look fazed, but his violet eyes gape at me. He sort of bows.
    â€œI have a fishtail, and that’s not half as weird as this right