Gemini

Chapter 7* I'm not a Mermaid.

Chapter 7* I’m not a Mermaid

I wake up in a stinking room.

Literally. The stench of fish is heavy in the air, and the floor beneath the grates are black with grime. Some scales are stuck to the ground.

We were brought here after being knocked out by this middle aged fish-man. He carried a triton and was just swirling water from the waist down, making him look like a really mean, evil genie with a sick sense of humor. He’d knocked us out with the hilt of the triton- by the way, my head still hurt- and must have brought us down her to await further torture.

My hands are shackled to the wall. The handcuffs have blood stains on them, and they cut painfully into my wrists. My backpack is still with me, and so is the teleporter in my pocket. I assume that fish dude- he must be Poseidon- must not have bothered to remove our belongings… The other prospect was terrifying but more likely.

He was going to kill us.

There’s nothing surprising about that, really. Every god we’d met so far wanted to kill us, save for Apollo. One more did not really make that much of a difference. Except that if this particular nutcase actually succeeded, I’d die, and suddenly that didn’t seem too nice, especially after that incident in the underworld.

I sigh, and look across the room to Sam. He’s unconscious, chest rising and falling gently. I try not to focus on the way his features smooth out when he’s incapacitated, making him look vulnerable and young.

“Sam!” I hiss, trying to get him to wake up so we can- possibly- hatch an escape plan. “Sam!”

He stirs, head lolling slightly to the side. “Wha-?”

“Sam!” I hiss again, raising my volume. “Wake up!”

He bolts awake, and cringes as what I suspect to be a killer headache comes on. “Yes?”

Rolling my eyes, I gesture with a jerk of my head to the door. “Escape?”

Frowning, he wrinkles his nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Fish. I think we’re underwater.”

His forehead creases further as his frown deepens. “Well, then how are we going to get out?”

“It seems better than any other alternative,” I retort. “Do you have a better plan?”

I fully expect him to throw some sort of insult at me, or toss around some dry sarcasm. It was how I’d been raised. In my high school, the culture was that you had to act superior and not make a fool out of yourself in order to gain popularity points, or at least not look stupid. I’d been at the very top of that chain. It was only now I realized how shallow I’d been, especially when I heard Sam’s answer.

“No, I don’t. You always come up with great ideas. What do you think?”

Is it just me, or is there something in those brown eyes as he studies me? What is that that flashes across his face- curiosity, impatience, or… longing?”

No. I shove those thoughts out of my head as I consider.

“There are no ways to get out of these cuffs without the keys…” I say. I am still thinking… when the door bursts open, sending in a fresh wave of stinky fish stench, and a middle aged guy- Poseidon- strides in.

I almost swear out loud but decided last minute that it might not be a very good idea.

Poseidon’s lower body is not made of water this time. Instead, he is clad in khakis, with a baggy Hawaiian shirt with flower print. He looks like a harmless old man… at least until you see the malicious intent in his eyes.