Page 36 of Away in a Tentacle Lair
We turn as Millie comes to an abrupt halt, panting at our sides.
“Miss Winkle from the post office just called. She said some people came from the marine centre talking about the mermaid.”
“Mermaid?” Nicholas questions.
“They have a display take in the main area where they pay people to pretend to be mermaids,” I explain.
“Sounds… interesting?” Nicholas puzzles.
“She only called us because they said it was a merman, and he hadn't needed to breathe the whole time they were queuing to buy a toy in the gift shop.”
“And she thought any young man who didn't breathe would be Kai?”
“Yes.” Millie nods keenly.
“Well, we can't just wander In there and check.” Nicholas turns to me. “Would you be interested in a little recon?”
If he wants me to go to the research centre and find my man, he doesn't need to ask twice.
“Sure. I won't stop until he's back in my arms.”
I don't know how easy that will be. I know access to the mermaid tank is via the floor above, which is strictly staff only.
“You're not doing this alone.” Nicholas rests a hand on my forearm. “You just need to confirm he is there, and we'll do the rest.”
“No. You may think you're big mafia whatever, but I know my way around, and I know how to open the back doors. I'll confirm he's there, and then I'll get you all in.”
“Glad to have you in the family.”
Chapter twenty-six
Kai
There is no way out of the tank, but that is only the start of my problems. The marine centre is open to the public, and I am the main attraction. I have spent most of the morning trying to attract people’s attention and pushing my breathing limits. I need these people leaving here with doubts about how real I am. If the word gets out that there’s a real mermaid in the tank, my family will work out where I am.
The worst part of this ordeal is that I’m actually enjoying myself.
I keep telling myself I shouldn’t, and then the next little girl plasters her face against the glass, and I move closer to interact with her.
This little girl has a teddy in her arms, and she is talking, but I can’t hear her. All I can do is wave and then spin around the tank. She starts running around the tank, her hand touching the glass, so I swim with her, my hand against the glass near hers. She is going to remember this experience for a long time.
Her family join her, pinning her excitement to the spot. We interact until the family decides it is time to see the rest of the animals trapped here.
With a flick of my makeshift fin, I dart to the other side, waving and blowing kisses. They're eating it up, and I am thrilled. I play peek-a-boo with a toddler who giggles so hard he nearly topples backwards, only to be caught by his dad. Moments like these remind me of my dad and all the times I left the water to be with him. I should have stuck with him more than I did, but I loved the water so much that it made my time with him mean more. I appreciated Dad whenever he turned away from his task to give me his undivided attention.
I’ve stopped timing my breaths; I just swim to the centre and sit on a little ledge beside the oxygen pipe. The bubbles trickle out constantly, but when I put my mouth over the nozzle, I can inhale as much oxygen as I need.
Then I’m back to amusing myself until the next visitors come to pay me some attention.
A group of men a few years older than me come closer, huddling against the tank. When I swim closer, one of them points at me and then his watch. He’s asking how long I can hold my breath. I give them a cheeky grin and then hold up my index finger, telling them to wait. I head to the pipe to renew my breath before returning and pointing at the watch. I’m surprised when they take deep breaths, and we all wait, holding our breath together.
It’s barely any time before the first man gasps for breath. The others look like they are struggling, but I feel fine. I could do this all day.
I mean, I have been doing this all day, but I’ll only stop when my family comes to rescue me. I know they are gathered around, coming up with a plan; I just need to be patient. If they go with blowing the pumps as a distraction, they need Leo to show themin, and they need the visitors to leave. So, I will happily fill my day with these encounters and wait for the centre to close.
I must keep faith that my rescue will come before the moon replaces the sun in the sky. My octopus body may not need an air pipe to survive, but my skin needs salt water to survive. A night in this tank could kill me.
The final man starts spluttering, drawing me back to the moment, and I laugh at their attempts. When I point at his watch, the man indicates three minutes. We sit here until five minutes before the men get bored and wander off.
