behind his back, rocking on his heels every now and then, Ralph kept turning to keep the merman in sight. Like the ringmaster in a circus, Beth mused. The effect was heightened by the light shining down on him from the porthole above.
Unlike Ralph, the Delano brothers stood in the shadows, well back from the tank. They were watching the merman, too, Beth noticed, as she glanced their way. She studied them, wondering what they thought of the creature they’d helped capture. She certainly couldn’t tell much from their expressions. Ralph had once told her the men were twins, but beyond having the same olive-toned skin and dark hair, the brothers didn’t look much alike.
Small and wiry, Little Dougie Delano’s shrewd expression and quick movements—not to mention his long pointed nose and buck teeth—gave him an unfortunate resemblance to a rat. Standing next to his brother, Big Mike appeared as huge and stolid as a baby elephant. Legs spread, slowly swaying back and forth, he stared at the tank with his mouth agape, dull surprise briefly lighting his fleshy face every time the merman passed.
Around and around the merman kept swimming, without any noticeable decrease in the speed or power he’d displayed from the start. Fifteen more minutes slipped by. Thirty. Beth was just thinking that the merman would swim endlessly, when Ralph gave a shout.
“He’s tiring, boys! Get ready to get to work.”
Unconsciously, Beth stiffened, leaning forward. At first, she thought Ralph was mistaken. The current was still whirling at a fantastic rate, lapping now and again over the side of the tank or up onto the low wooden platform to trickle beneath Ralph’s shoes. But as she strained forward to see, she suddenly realized the water was slowing. The merman, rather than pushing it along, now merely appeared to be floating with the current, the motion of his arms and tail sporadic, and frighteningly weaker.
Even so he was obviously alert enough to avoid the side of the pool where the Delano brothers stood. The brothers were lowering a slatted crate that vaguely resembled some kind of lobster trap into the water. Once they had the box in place, they picked up long, sharp poles and began herding the merman inside.
The merman refused to cooperate. Time after time he’d appear about to enter the crate, only to slip away at the last possible moment. For over an hour the game continued. Big Mike stayed in one place stabbing steadily, if ineffectually at the water, while Little Dougie chased about the perimeter, trying without success to prod the merman in the correct direction.
Obviously exasperated, Ralph had quickly grabbed a pole, too. From the platform, he tried to block their quarry from swimming from one end of the tank to the other, but the merman evaded the poles with seemingly little effort, almost appearing to taunt the men at times with a lazy flick of his tail before he agilely darted away.
Biting her lip, Beth remained resolutely at her vantage point, even though several of the jabs Ralph and Little Dougie directed toward the merman were vicious enough to make her wince. Ralph had told her father he’d be putting the merman in a smaller cage, and she could see he’d need to do so in order to get closer.
But then Ralph threw down his pole. “This is asinine—a complete waste of time,” he snarled, wiping at the sweat on his face with the back of his hand. Even from a distance, Beth could see angry disgust in his expression as he added, “We’re going to have to tranquilize him.”
“No!” Beth cried out, jumping to her feet.
Everyone turned toward the staircase. Even the merman—a still, golden form in the water—glanced at her as she rushed down the stairs.
The Delano brothers and the merman continued to watch her descent, but Ralph turned away to climb down from the platform. When he reached the floor, he glanced at her, then looked over at Big Mike and Little Dougie.
“Take a break,” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the stairs.
Without comment, the men threw down their poles and headed past Beth on their way out. Ignoring them, she hurried on toward Ralph. By the time she reached him, he was crouching next to a wooden trunk by the platform steps.
Beth, already breathless, grew even more so when she saw the dart gun he lifted out. “You can’t!” she said.
He glanced at her, the recent anger on his face replaced with his usual expression of kindly wisdom. “I have to. He refuses to get into the cage.”
“But there’s no way to tell how a tranquilizer will affect him. It might hurt or permanently injure him.”
“I doubt it, but even so that’s a risk I’ll have to take.” Ralph rose to his feet, gun still in hand. He reached into the box again for some darts and stuffed them in his pocket as he reminded her, “I need to tend to that wound.”
“But you said his wound was minor.”
He shrugged. “I realized when I saw it again today that I was wrong. But don’t take my word for it. See for yourself.”
He gestured toward the platform, silently inviting her to climb up. Stung by the mockery in his tone, Beth glanced at his face. His expression was polite, concerned—and just the slightest bit condescending. Her fingers curled into fists. Ralph knew she was afraid of the water—not to mention the merman himself. But what he didn’t know was that no Livingston ever backed down from a challenge.
Squaring her shoulders, she stomped toward the wooden steps. Ignoring Ralph’s surprised expression, she climbed up them, aware that he was following right behind her. When she reached the top, she gingerly walked out a few feet onto the platform, careful to stay in the center of the structure. There she paused, and forced herself to look out over the tank for the merman.
For a few dizzying seconds, she couldn’t even find him. All she could see were the undulating peaks and valleys of the restless water. Then a golden flash broke the surface at the far side of the tank. Like a dolphin, the merman suddenly arced high into the air, droplets of water glittering all around him like a shower of diamonds before he disappeared back beneath the surface.
“He’s never done that before!” Ralph exclaimed in surprise, then frowned. From beneath lowered brows, he slanted a considering glance at the woman by his side.
Beth barely noticed. Startled by the merman’s sudden appearance, she’d only caught a glimpse of the red mark high on his left shoulder before he dived underwater. She kept her eyes on his shadowy form, waiting for him to resurface. When he rose into view again, he was much closer, and this time Beth saw his wound clearly. The sight made her stomach lurch. Obscenely red and raw, the gash looked painful—as if someone had crudely slashed a lightning bolt into the merman’s smooth bronzed skin.
“It’s ghastly,” she said huskily as the merman dived back underwater. Turning to confront Ralph, she demanded, “You didn’t see how bad it was yesterday?”
He shrugged, smiling ruefully. “All right, yes. I did. But I didn’t want to worry your father.”
“So you lied.”
His smile faded, and his wide brow creased in a slight frown. Removing a dart from his pocket, Ralph slipped it into the gun before glancing at her again. His voice was very crisp as he retorted, “No, I simply bent the truth a little.”
Snapping the clip down, he strode to the edge of the platform and peered into the water with a narrowed gaze. His jaw tightened as he saw that the merman had swum to the far side of the tank.
With
