Pip glanced back at the tender. She had to bring it closer so she could lug the merfolk’s body into it. Yet what if the thing was still alive? What if it dragged itself into the ocean before she returned?

She would have to make sure it was dead. It would be a shame to kill it. But even if it was alive, it wouldn’t be for long, not bleeding out like it was. And if she allowed it to escape, she would never forgive herself. Marty would never forgive her.

Marty.

Did Marty do this to the creature? It seemed too coincidental that the day he went hunting for merfolk, one turned up injured on the beach.

So perhaps he’s safe and sound, after all, she thought. Perhaps he’s captured a merfolk and is waiting for dawn before attempting to transport it back to the Oannes. Perhaps everything is going to be all right…

Pip raised the assault rifle, pressing the backplate snug against her shoulder. She had fired the weapon underwater on several occasions under Marty’s supervision, using small bony fish such as mullets and herrings as target practice. She had never fired it on land, however, and she recalled Marty telling her the cartridges used underwater and on land were different. Nevertheless, she didn’t think it would matter if the magazine was filled with aquatic rather than conventional bullets. She wasn’t sniping from four hundred meters away; she was firing point-blank.

The only real question, she decided, was where to shoot the merfolk? She didn’t want to destroy its brain or other important organs that would shed scientific light on its biology. Perhaps a burst of bullets to the throat would be best…?

“Je suis désolé,” Pip muttered under her breath as she aimed the gun. She was about to squeeze the trigger when ice-cold pain erupted inside her chest. Dumbfounded, she looked down at herself to find a bloody stingray barb protruding from between her breasts. She experienced no pain, only confusion, as she fell to her knees.

The coldness in her chest seemed to encase her entire body, freezing it, so she could no longer move or feel her extremities…and this was likely a good thing. Because the merfolk that had launched the spear through her back was slithering across the sand toward her, mouth agape, jagged teeth bared, black eyes shining with hatred and hunger.

Chapter 45

Chapter 45

MARTY