Atlantis Riptide: Lost Daughters of Atlantis Book 1 Read online

  “No problem. I’ll be back in a minute.” Possibly less. I hadn’t told him about my swimming speed. I’d save that for another day.

  I pushed off the floating mattress and swam underwater until I reached the shallows. Getting to my feet, a shadow fell over me.

  “If it isn’t janitor-girl.”

  The brightness of my day dimmed. I peered at the cause of the shadow. Joe from the railing incident towered above. He wore black shorts and the same black hoodie. A bit hot for the beach.

  “Cops questioned me twice about that stupid kid falling into the lagoon.” His hard voice threatened.

  I took a step back in the wet sand. “Oh?”

  A few of Joe’s buddies circled closer like sharks going after fresh meat. Strange green splotches stained their clothes like an unknown disease. Water lapped at their untied shoes but they didn’t seem to care.

  “You put that cop Clayton up to it.” Joe moved his arms from behind his back.

  A gun with a long, narrow barrel pointed at my chest. A tube ran from in front of the trigger to the hand base. I’d never seen a gun like that before. Real or on TV.

  “Wh-what’s that?” An icy shiver slid down my spine. I didn’t want to find out the hard way.

  “Sure glad me and my boys were playing in the canyon above this beach.” He scrunched up his face and growled. “What did you tell Clayton?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything.” I held my hands up, showing Joe I wouldn’t make a fast move.

  Which was a lie, because if I could dive in the ocean without a shot being fired I would. The water barely went to my ankles when the waves rushed in. I needed more water.

  Joe jerked the gun. “Why’d Clayton ask me about balancing on the rail? I didn’t tell him.”

  The gun looked real, lethal. Black metal, with a scope. A bit on the futuristic side with the tube thing, but I knew nothing about weapons.

  My mind scrambled for a way out. Sweat broke out on my upper lip. I glanced at the sky. “Other people might’ve seen you do it. Why blame me?” I had mentioned it, even accused the boy’s fall of being Joe’s fault, but I didn’t deserve to be shot for it.

  “Pearl. What’s going on?” Chase’s words barely reached me above the noise of the surf.

  I glanced back. Chase paddled the air mattress toward shore. My heart tightened at the idea of him coming to my rescue and yet, this was one incident that would be easier to handle alone. If I could only get Joe further in the water.

  “Hey, that’s the manager-guy from the mini golf course. Maybe he’s the snitch.”

  I sucked in a breath. I didn’t want Chase to be blamed for my mistake. “No, I’m sure he didn’t—”

  “Shut up.” Joe stuck the gun against my ribs.

  The barrel jammed into my skin. Yep, real metal. I froze in place not wanting to antagonize him further. Chase and the raft were about thirty yards out and I used my body to block the view of the weapon. I didn’t want him to become alarmed. He had no way to defend himself working his way closer to shore.

  “That orange raft would be a good target,” one of Joe’s friends egged him on. “Better than those sycamore trees behind the beach.”

  So they’d been shooting this gun in the park leading to the beach?

  “I don’t need shooting practice.” Joe sounded offended.

  “Come on. You missed that squirrel earlier.”

  Joe had shot at a squirrel. What other innocent animals had he harassed?

  “Sink that sucker. Sink that sucker.” The other guys joined the cheer.

  My heart revved. I didn’t know what kind of gun it was but Chase could be shot and it would be my fault.

  Joe lifted the scope and straightened his arm. He squinted. The small muscles in his hand tensed. His finger drew back on the trigger.

  “Chase, watch out!” I jerked my left elbow and bumped Joe’s shoulder trying to throw him off balance.

  Pop. Whoosh.

  The shot wasn’t loud as if air whooshed around it, kind of like a nail gun. I screamed anyhow. My eyes glued open like the lids were stuck, waiting to see if Joe still managed to stay on target even with my elbow jab.

  A whitish-round bullet hit the raft and exploded. A blob of green marked the raft.

  My knees buckled with relief. “What kind of gun is that?”

  “Sink that sucker. Sink that sucker.” All the guys cheered again.

  “Paintball gun.” Joe raised the gun and pointed. “My friends and I like to go paintballing.”

  At least the gun didn’t shoot bullets. “If you shoot paintballs all the time you don’t need to shoot at Chase.”

  “Wimp.” Joe’s cruel laugh scratched down my spine.

  I jumped forward and pushed Joe harder this time. His fight was with me, not Chase.

  Joe swatted at me. “Get her.” He commanded his buddies.

  The three of them surrounded me, grabbing my arms and waist. Chase stroked harder now, trying to reach the beach faster, to come to my rescue. I kicked and squirmed trying to escape while Joe’s friends laughed.

  Joe pulled the trigger again.

  The pop sounded louder this time. More ominous.

  The paintball hit Chase in the head. A green splotch appeared on his temple.

  Chase’s eyes rolled back into his head. Then he slipped off the raft.

  Chapter Nine

  Seriously Stingy Sitch

  Chase sunk under the waves.

  A loud rushing filled my head with all sorts of awful scenarios. My heart stopped, then thumped wildly. The friction from my heart caused a static charge to shoot through me, spurring me into action.

  Without thought to Joe and his stupid paintball gun, I jerked out of the other guy’s arms, ran through the shallow surf, and dove under the surface. The salt hit my face like annoying gnats, which was unusual, but right now, everything bothered me.

  I’d heard stories about how dangerous paint gun pellets could be, how they shouldn’t be toys at all, how idiots like Joe should never possess one.

  I swam as fast as non-humanly possible and reached Chase as his body hit the sandy bottom. His eyelids were closed and his mouth open. His body lifeless.

  I placed my hand over his chest and felt his heart beating in a slow rhythm. He wasn’t dead, just unconscious. The pellet must’ve hit a vulnerable spot on his head.

  Relief swelled like the waves. I grabbed him beneath the shoulders and dragged him back to the air mattress. I draped him on his side over the orange plastic, and then cleared his air passages.

  He choked up water and then sucked down air. Gasping, he breathed on his own. I ran my hands over his forehead where the green paint marked the spot and felt a large, red bump.

  Chase winced and he blinked several times. He was conscious but his gaze appeared cloudy and unfocused.

  I scanned the beach. We were still thirty yards out. Joe and his buddies stood on shore watching. The gun was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hidden behind his back. I didn’t want to find out if they meant to cause further trouble.

  Chase moaned. Goosebumps appeared on his exposed arms. I had to get him out of the water and going through Joe and his goons would only take more time.

  “Can you hang on a bit longer?” Literally, because he hung over the air mattress.

  “I can swim on my own.” His voice sounded weak, shaky. His eyelids closed again and my worry ratcheted up.

  “No. Let me tug you back to shore.”

  Making sure he was balanced, I gripped the plastic edge of the air mattress and swam further out to sea. With my speed I could round the edge of the cove and land on the next beach in minutes. I wouldn’t need to fight Joe and on dry land I could assess Chase’s damage.

  At the end of the cove, the waves intensified ripping at the raft in my hand. Waves tumbled over my head and smashed onto the rocks near the cliffs. Ocean spray made the top of the raft slick. We were at the furthest point, rounding the tip before entering the nex
t cove.

  I loosened my grip and then gathered more plastic in my fist, but didn’t slow my pace. The raft scrunched up with the waves and the weight increased. The air mattress was flat, lifeless. All the air had leaked out and I could no longer use it to hold Chase.

  Breath whistled out of my lungs. I could handle this. He was breathing, kind of alert. I had super strength. No problem.

  “I’m going to hold you like a lifeguard.” I turned on my back and positioned Chase above me keeping his head high above water. His skin rubbed against mine and I shivered. He was ice cold.

  “I like when you hold me close.” His words slurred together.

  Either that pellet hit him extra hard or the cold water was affecting his speech.

  A high-pitched screeching filled the air. A sea otter circled us, ducking in and out of the waves. I wondered if it was the same sea otter with the green paint.

  Green paint.

  The same color shot at Chase. Joe must’ve been the culprit who hurt the sea otter, too.

  The little guy next to me screeched again.

  “Out of my way. This time I’m trying to get to shore.” I put my hand by Chase’s nose and mouth. Hot breath blew on my hand. “Not far now Chase. How ya doing?”

  “’kay.” He sounded weaker.

  A second sea otter joined the first. The pair swam in circles so fast it made me dizzy. If they were warning me, I wished they could tell me what was wrong.

  Sudden, painful stinging on my leg alerted me to more trouble. I slapped at the pain but didn’t feel anything on my calf. Another stinging pain hit my thigh. I rubbed the spot where tiny bumps formed on my skin.

  I studied the water and noticed whitish-clear tentacles surrounding us. Lots of them, possibly hundreds.

  Jellyfish.

  I didn’t know if any deadly jellies lived in the Pacific Ocean. Of course, Chase had mentioned strange occurrences, so who knew what was normal. In my life nothing. I’d finally shared a large piece of myself with someone who accepted me and then, because of me, he gets injured.

  The stinging sensation spread across my skin. I had no way to protect myself or Chase. He’d be a floating feast for the jellies.

  The sea otters screeched, clamoring for my attention again. They swam together and…kissed? They were kissing or breathing into each other’s mouths. Kind of like CPR, but otters didn’t know how to do CPR. Then, they both dove deep under the surface.

  They wanted me to go deeper in the water to escape the jellies. But Chase couldn’t breathe underwater like me. He’d die if I took him under.

  The otters resurfaced. Their tiny heads nodded up and down. They came close and kissed again.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. The cold air hit the back of my throat and I coughed. Impossible. The sea otters couldn’t know about me, couldn’t know what my breath could do. Brandon had been too young to realize, but there had been one other.

  My mind went back to a different place, a different emergency.

  About six months before I’d run away, Alonso, the circus’s general handyman had been fixing a leak in the largest pool. An older man with a bald head and a long, grizzly beard, he’d been one of the few people who’d been nice to me, who spoke to me like I was a regular kid.

  I’d been hiding at the bottom of the pool, my escape when I wanted to think or be left alone by the circus owners, when I heard a large splash. Alonso fell into the pool, hitting bottom. His arms and legs thrashed. He didn’t know how to swim, but the pool wasn’t that deep and all he needed to do was stand up and he’d be fine.

  I glided over to help. It was then I noticed his long beard caught in the cracked plaster of the pool bottom. He was stuck.

  Alonso yanked on his beard trying to free himself, but nothing worked. I tugged on his legs but he didn’t budge. His entire body was completely submerged. I let go and swam to the surface for help.

  No one was around. No tools lay about that I could borrow. If I ran for assistance, it would be too late.

  I’m still not sure what made me do what I did. Instinct? A need to help a kindly old man? But I dove back into the pool and squirmed in front of Alonso between him and the wall of the pool. He was unconscious and didn’t have much time. I placed my mouth over his and blew into him. It wasn’t a kiss, more like blowing up a balloon. Like CPR, without the resuscitation part.

  One breath was all it took. Alonso opened his eyes wide. Real wide. Fear flashed. His mouth opened but he didn’t choke. He could breathe underwater. Like me.

  He held up his hands to ward me off. Like I was going to hurt him. He tried to shrink away from me. The expression of terror on his face made me swim away. This time when I reached the surface, the knife thrower was setting up to practice.

  “Help! Alonso is stuck under water.”

  The knife thrower grabbed one of his knives and dove into the pool. He sliced off Alonso’s beard and dragged him to the surface.

  Everyone said it was a miracle Alonso didn’t drown. The knife thrower was hailed a hero. Alonso never mentioned what had transpired between us.

  That night, I saw him get in the pool when he thought no one was around. He went underwater and emerged seconds later with a disgusted look on his face. “Dios. I can’t do it.”

  I guessed he couldn’t breathe underwater anymore.

  From that day forward, whenever Alonso and I passed each other, he’d cross himself and mutter, like he was saying a prayer. He treated me like I had the plague or was the devil. He never spoke to me again.

  Loneliness settled in my chest. Alonso had been kind, but after breathing into him he’d been cold and distant.

  Another jelly stung my arm. I plucked it off, still struggling against the waves.

  The jellies multiplied around us. We were swimming in a sea of jellyfish. They were so thick I barely saw the surface of the water. My body tensed. At this rate, we’d both be a mass of swollen flesh when we reached the shore. And who knew if infection would set in.

  Chase had three jellies stuck to his chest alone. I swatted at them and tried to swim faster. My heart raced with the need to beat this jelly attack and my skin tingled from the stings.

  “Chase, are you feeling any stinging?”

  He didn’t respond. Maybe he was too cold to feel the sting.

  Turning him around to face me, I examined his handsome face. His now pale skin made his wavy brown hair seem darker. His lips had a bluish tint from the cold Pacific. If he didn’t die from the jelly stings, he’d die from hypothermia.

  I didn’t have a choice. I had to do something. If Chase freaked out like Alonso and never spoke to me again, I’d deal with it. Right now I had to save both our lives.

  Swallowing the fist-sized lump in my throat, I placed my mouth over his and blew my warm breath into him. Blew my special breath into his lungs and his veins. Blew my magical breath to save his life.

  Holding him around the waist, I let our bodies sink into the water. Once his head was covered, I put my hand to his chest. His heart still beat. His lungs moved in and out. I relaxed with the rhythm of his chest moving up and down.

  Chase could now breathe underwater.

  At least temporarily.

  I dragged him down to the sandy bottom where there were no jellies. Similar to my nightmare, only this time I was the one dragging a person underwater. I didn’t know how long my breath would last so to be sure, I placed my mouth against his again and blew.

  As our lips touched, his body stiffened. I stared into his blue orbs, bright and clear. Chase was alert.

  And his expression reminded me of Alonso’s.

  I gritted my teeth, waiting for his reaction. The beating of my heart went on a holding pattern. Would Chase fear me?

  “No.”

  Chase’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Yet I could hear him. Or at least understand him.

  “Did you understand my question?”

  Just like the otter.

  This was impossible. I’d never spoken
to anyone underwater before. Then again, I’d never been with anyone underwater before for any length of time.

  He reached for his throat. An expression of horror froze on his face realizing what was going on. “What’s happening to me? What am I doing underwater, breathing, like you?”

  “I can explain.” I tasted bitterness in my mouth and it spread through my veins. Would Chase keep his distance? Would he cross himself every time he saw me at the Boardwalk?

  He wiggled against my hold and I let go. My heart squeezed with the imprint of his fingers. I might’ve just let him go for good.

  His gaze darted about. “How did you do this?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It was the only way to escape.”

  “What’re we doing down here? At the bottom of the frickin’ ocean?”

  Somehow, I heard panic in his thoughts. Which confused me even more. I understood him, but his lips weren’t moving. We were talking, but we weren’t. And not only did I understand him, but I heard his tone of voice.

  “Calm down.”

  “You want me to calm down? I’m who-knows-how-deep under the Pacific Ocean without scuba gear or a submarine. What the heck happened?” His entire body thrashed.

  “You were hit by a paintgun pellet and lost consciousness. I had to get you away from Joe, and then the raft sank, and the jelly fish attacked—”

  “Oh my God, am I hearing your thoughts?” His face grew even paler.

  “Yes, you—”

  “Did you turn me into a…a you?” He’d picked his words carefully.

  Or not so carefully. Each word ripped like shark’s teeth. My chest squeezed tighter, trying to suffocate or insulate my heart. “Temporarily, I think.”

  “How temporary?”

  “That’s why I breathed into you again. I don’t know how long it lasts.” I turned away from him before he fled. He was still my responsibility. I’d gotten him into this situation and I planned to get him out. “We should head back to the beach before the jellyfish find us.”

  As the otters predicted, the jellies weren’t near the bottom of the ocean.

  His fingers touched my bare shoulder. “I’m weirded-out.”