Sleeping with the Fishes (12 page)

In fact, what was his background? Did they have colleges under water?

"What are you grinning about?"

"I cannot help feeling joy that you have chosen my company over his."

"Uh, it's not about that,
Artur
. It's just that the last time I was in the harbor I didn't notice anything was wrong, so this time—"

"Yes, yes." He waved her perfectly logical explanation away. "Whatever your rationale, you will be with me for the rest of the morning, while the biped pushes his papers around and makes numbers."

"Careful, pal.
I was almost pushing papers and making numbers with him."

His smile widened.
"My point.
You are not."

"This isn't a contest, you know."

His smile slipped away and all at once he looked like the predator he was. "Everything is a contest."

"
Hmmph
.
I am going to swim now. Try to resist the urge to take a chomp out of my butt."

"I shall try, but I make no promises."

She grinned; she couldn't help it. "Okay, that came out wrong." She dipped a toe into the water,
then
walked in a couple of feet, enjoying the breeze. She knew she felt chilly to other people, but one of the nice things about being a hybrid was that she didn't feel much cold.
Which made sense, because there were plenty of places in the ocean that were
quite
cold.
It was also the reason Jonas constantly gave her shit when she wore tank tops in November.

"Wasn't it great of Jonas to get my boss out of our way?" she said suddenly. "He really helped us out there."

"You choose your allies well."

"He's not an ally, he's my… you know. Jonas."

"As I said."

"He really took one for the team, taking Dr. Barb out for breakfast. I've worked for the woman for six years, and I've never seen her eat. It must be like taking your speech teacher out for drinks. Weird."

"That is for Jonas to fret about,"
Artur
pointed out, slipping into the water beside her and easing out of sight. In her mind, he finished the thought:
Not you or I
.

"That's the team spirit," she muttered, and ducked under the water. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust—Boston harbor wasn't exactly the clear azure of
Cabo
San Lucas. She kept a wary eye out for large clumps of seaweed—just the feel of the stuff on her skin made her… well, it made her skin crawl!
And when it got in her
hair
… nightmare.

Maybe that's why she considered the sea a living thing, an entity all on its own.
Because so much of it was so alive.
Just swimming through it, she could feel how alive it was. It wasn't just the smell or the taste or the texture… or, rather, it was, but it was all of that and more.

She understood intellectually how the bipeds could use the ocean as a garbage dump, but could never get it emotionally. But then, they used the atmosphere as a garbage dump, too. You just couldn't count on any of them to—

She felt something clammy on her tail and shrieked.
Uh, mentally.
Artur
let go of her and swam up beside her.

What ails you, Little Rika?

How did you get behind me? Oh, forget it.
This.
THIS ails me
. She clawed at her hair.
Yeeesh
!

Our mother, our home?
How can you be more comfortable in a sterile inland pool?

Two words: no seaweed.

Little Rika, you never cease to amaze. Or amuse. Ah!
Nice to have room to breathe again.

Yeah, it's
swell
.

They swam together close to the bottom, avoiding the thousands of boats and ships that had turned the harbor into a saltwater highway.

I do not deny I have often wondered what it would be like to dance in the waves with you.

Was that—? It was! She snatched the clot of seaweed out of her way and threw it as hard as she could which, fifteen feet under water, wasn't very.

Ick
!
Ick
!

I admit
,
this is different from what I imagined.

Shut up. How could you "often wonder" anything? You haven't even been here three days yet.

My father knew his queen at once.

Bully for him. That doesn't have anything to do with me.

It could.

She chose to ignore that absurd statement and they swam in silence for a while. She swam ahead in a quick circle,
then
came back.

I don't smell anything so far. I mean, it's busy, you can tell it's the harbor and not the middle of the Caspian Sea, it's not exactly pure, but I'm not getting anything unusual.

The water here is not as fresh as I would like, but you are correct; neither is it poisoned. It may take us time to find the source. However will we pass the time?

Don't get any nutty ideas, Prince Grabby.

I cannot help it, Little Rika. Seeing you in your true element, your true form, with no interference from arrogant bipeds…

You've got nerve, calling anybody arrogant
. She stopped swimming and he nearly banged into her. They bobbed together for a moment and she told him,
When I have legs, that's my true form, too,
Artur
.
Half 'n half, except not as creamy.
Er
, that could have sounded sexier
.

He put his arms around her and kissed her gently, nothing at all like the bruising, possessive kiss from earlier. Perhaps because he didn't feel he had anything to prove in the water?
Away from Thomas?

She let him. What the hell. She deserved a treat after the stressful week she'd had. And kissing
Artur
, no doubt about
it,
was a treat. She felt positively tiny in his arms, cradled, protected. She had the feeling that he could handle whatever problem came up: a great white, a sarcastic barracuda.

Ah, Rika, my Rika.

Shut up.
More kissing.

He chuckled and obeyed, snuggling her into his embrace. At least he didn't point out that, this way at least, they could chat about current events the entire time they were making out and never miss a smooch.

She realized they were actually bobbing upside down, but was too giddy from the kissing to care much. She felt the vibrations as one of the party yachts sped by above them, doubtless dragging more drunken tourists through the shit and—

No, she meant dragging them through the shitty harbor—shit! What was wrong with her?

Artur
abruptly stopped kissing her.
Do you smell that
?

Smell it, of course I can smell it
! She tried to spit. It didn't work.
I can taste it. Oh my God, I'm tasting shit
!

Artur
grabbed her arm and flexed his tail, and they rocketed away from that particular spot. Despite his speed, despite his quick action, for a long, awful moment Fred was sure she was going to vomit. She struggled with the urge, thinking she must not, must not,
must
not
barf in front of royalty. Not to mention, she hadn't barfed since the time she got drunk on Pepsi (a case) and vermouth (four bottles), and that had been over ten years ago. She had no plans to break her non-vomit streak.

And it was better now. She could still faintly smell it, but suspected it was more imagination than fact. The way you could still smell dog shit once you've stepped in it, no matter how often you scrubbed your shoes.

Artur
had gotten them away from the stream, or the bad spot, or whatever you wanted to call it, and he had done it with speedy efficiency… she wouldn't have been able to swim that fast with a
speargun
in her ear.

Thanks,
Artur
. That was pretty bad for a second.

I, too, had momentary discomfort.

Oh, thought Fred. Is that what they call it?

I can't ever come swimming here again… I'll always think
I'm smelling
shit even if I'm not. We
gotta
fix this.

Artur
nodded. He didn't try to touch her, which she figured showed as well as anything how grossed out he was, too.
Thus my father's concern when he heard the news. I, too, feel the morning has been tainted
.

That was shit. I don't mean toxins. I don't mean poisons
. She was swimming for the shore as quickly as she could,
Artur
keeping pace with no trouble.
I mean shit. Somebody's
gonna
pay. And I don't mean EPA fines, either. I mean pay through the NOSE
.

I quite agree,
Little
Rika… and it is a pleasant change to see your anger directed at a head other than my own.

It was shallow enough for her to stand, and she did, her legs as always forming without conscious thought. She shook her wet hair and managed to smile at him as he emerged beside her. "Some romantic swim, huh?"

He spat.
"As I said.
Not quite what I had envisioned."

Thomas nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to his lab was thrown open and Fred, the mermaid of his dreams, snarled, "Some tin prick is throwing his shit into the harbor."

He turned away from the slides and microscope. Fred was splendidly drippy, her green hair plastered to her head, her T-shirt almost transparent in a couple of interesting places, her feet bare and pink and comely. She carried her shoes in one hand. The pretentious lug from the Black Sea,
Artur
, was looming behind her like a mugger, carrying his own shoes.

Where does he get clothing
? Thomas wondered.

"Are you paying attention?" she demanded.

"Yeah, Fred, I know. It's why I'm here, remember?"

Fred stomped toward him. He wasn't sure weather to back up or try for a kiss. Since her hands were both in fists, he decided to compromise and stay where he was. He could hold his own in a fight, but he imagined Fred could rip him in half without much trouble.

And that redheaded bum,
Artur
, would be happy to help.

"You're not listening," she said, jabbing a bony finger at his chest. "Somebody is dumping his
shit
in the harbor.
Literal
shit."

"Oh, great," he groaned. "That's really nice. How lovely. Right: into the harbor. Did you get a
noseful
?"

Her lips made an odd twisting motion, like she wanted to spit but was stopping herself. "I got a
mouthful
, feels like. It still feels like."

"All right.
Well. I'm sorry to hear that, but it's actually helpful."

"How could you not know, with all your papers, what it was?"
Artur
demanded.

Thomas gave the lug a look. "It's a big ocean,
Artur
. And shit, for want of a better term, is all natural. It can be mixed up with a few things, I'm sorry to say." He took a breath and turned back to Fred. "Anyway, thanks for telling me this. I'm sorry you had to get a
snotful
, but at least it narrows down—"

"I figured. That's why we came to tell you."

"I was just over at City Hall and got copies of all building permits granted to anyone in a three square mile radius—" He gestured at the new pile of paper. "That, coupled with the fact that none of the Undersea Folk noticed the, uh, shit until recently, and
you
didn't notice, and the fact that it's, you know,
shit
, makes me think it's a new building."

"Duh."
Fred, his darling, looked annoyed she hadn't thought of it herself. "It's a hotel."

"Why do you think this?" the big red lug asked.

"New building by the harbor?
That amount of shit? It's a new hotel. They probably played fast and loose with the city council and now there's a pipe in the wrong place, dumping the crap of tourists into our harbor."

"
A hotel like
the building in which Thomas and I reside? A place strangers call home for a short period of time?"

"Yeah.
And every room has a bathroom. And all that water—and what it takes away—has to go somewhere. It should go to a treatment plant first.
Unless someone cut corners."

"Contrary to what they taught us in
Finding
Nemo
, all pipes do not lead to the ocean.
Unless you design them that way."