Page 1 of Call of the Fathoms

One

Alexia

“Alexia! Thank goodness you’re here. I am certain I am about to die.”

Even though she knew Original Harlow would not expire any point soon, Alexia still moved into the room with more purpose. She’d been seeking out new towels in Tau since her Original was certain that her own were not the same softness as before. She couldn’t guess what might have happened in the time between when she left and when she had returned.

Still, it was her job to ensure that Harlow lived the most comfortable and safe life possible. So she set the bundle of towels down on the nearest surface and strode into Harlow’s bedroom.

The room was elaborate in an understated way. Many of the Originals clung to old grandeur that made their rooms almost stuffy to be in. They preferred gilded edges, carved figures poured in molten gold, and paintings that had been saved for hundreds of years. But not Harlow. She loved to live in thenew ages of their world. So instead of hiding that she lived underneath the sea, Harlow luxuriated in it.

Every surface of this room glistened. The floor was mother-of-pearl, crushed and inlaid into the tile. The furniture was dusted with iridescence, each arm and leg gleaming in the chandelier light from overhead. Crystal cylinders hung from the ceiling, sending dancing rainbows throughout the room whenever the light was on.

Three of the walls were entirely glass. Harlow had spent a good amount of money making sure that every single wall was strong enough to hold the sea at bay, while also giving her a view of the sea beyond. Of course, there was another glass wall about forty feet farther away, just to make sure no undine got ideas to come close to one of the Originals.

In the space between her glass wall and the second, fish and flora flourish. Coral and tiny schools of fish gave pops of color to the otherwise desolate space. But at one point, there had been a dolphin trapped in there. Harlow liked to make it do tricks until it had died.

That memory still made Alexia feel strange.

“What is the matter?” she asked, walking toward Harlow, where she stood near the glass.

Harlow was a stunning woman, always had been, and would continue to be. The Originals were ancient, and Harlow was one of the oldest, although only by a few years. She looked very much to be a stunning fifty-year-old woman. Though her hair was still a warm, golden brown, her skin was still pristine and her spine straight and strong. She was lean, with the slightest of curves in her hips. But beyond her physical presence, she had a way of looking into a person’s soul with a glare so severe it had leveled lesser men.

Now, she stood with the shoulder of her dress drooped down to her elbow, displaying unblemished, lightly tanned skin. Shespent hours a week in a tanning bed, making sure she still looked like she lived Above, and then hours fixing that sun damage through other means.

“See this?” Harlow said, pointing at a faint red patch on the highest peak of her shoulder. “Look at it.”

She looked. Alexia had to do whatever Harlow said, even if it felt a little foolish to be looking at a slightly flakey patch of red skin. “Yes?”

“It’s a rash. A rash! One of the reborns must have slipped through the security checks on their genetics.” Harlow scoffed. “To think this would happen to me and not one of the others.”

Well, it was unlikely that the scientist in charge of Harlow’s reborns would make any mistake like that. However, if that was what Harlow wanted to think, then that’s what she was allowed to think.

Carefully, Alexia shifted Harlow’s dress over her shoulder again. “Come. Let’s get you tucked into bed. A rest will make you feel better.”

Harlow sighed. “I forget that having you around instantly eases me. You are a wonderful companion, Alexia.”

It was a lie. Alexia was a good guard, and that was all she had been created for. She towered over Harlow’s diminutive form, but then again, Alexia towered over everyone if they weren’t like her. At six foot seven, Alexia was a massive woman created for power and strength. She would put her body in between anything that attacked Harlow and had many times. Harlow was still very much alive, and thus, she was damn good at her job.

Guiding the Original over to her massive bed that was the color of sea foam and filled with so many pillows, it was hard to imagine how she slept at all. She helped Harlow into the bed. “Would you like me to brush your hair before you sleep?”

“Oh, would you? You know you’re the only one with a touch delicate enough to do so. The others always pull at the strands and I only have so many.”

Some part of Alexia stirred at that. She went to the nightstand, pulling out the brush that was also inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and stared down at her own reflection in it.

What had Harlow said? Years ago? When Alexia was finally ready to serve her, the first thing the Original had said at the sight of her was, “Damn, you’re a big brute.”

There was some part of her that believed those words still. Her dark hair was pulled back severely from her face, tight against her skull and making her eyes appear slanted like a fox. She wore no makeup, not like the Originals, but her dark slashes of brows needed no addition to make them obvious. The permanent scowl on her face was intimidating to most, and then there was her height, of course. Bunches of muscles made her neck seem even thicker than it already was, and her shoulders even broader. As Harlow had once said, she was a brute of a woman.

But then again, she’d been made like this. It was hard to look away from her own reflection sometimes. She caught her own gaze and was sucked into it as thoughts that didn’t feel like her own suddenly jumbled in her mind.

She hadn’t been born. She’d been created in a test tube. Genetically engineered to be the person they wanted her to be. There were still thoughts in her mind, memories of a time when she had been growing. Blips of a history when she had been just a child, learning how to be strong, how to fight, how to not cry. All the things they told her she had to learn, but no one else did. Some part of her had resented that, then. But now, she could hardly feel a thing.

“Alexia!” Harlow’s tone was sharp now. “You were going to brush my hair.”

Of course she was.

Alexia ripped her gaze away from her own reflection and turned her attention back to Harlow. She walked over to the bed and knelt beside it, her knees already aching on the hard floor but easy enough to ignore. How many times had she done this? Kneeling while Harlow sat, brushing through the long strands of her Original’s luxurious brown hair. There were threads of gold in it, a fact that Alexia had commented on multiple times.

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