The Vicious Deep

I follow his stare at the speckles of stars. Suddenly I wonder, "Aren't you guys supposed to, like, sparkle or something?" And immediately wish I hadn't. Frederik stands up so quickly that he doesn't disturb the sand. He grabs the front of my shirt and growls--his eyes are black as the night sky along the horizon, and red veins fray against the white of his eyes. His sharp canines are exposed. "I.Don't.Sparkle." He lets go of me and becomes regular bored Frederik again, no fangs, no bloodshot eyes. Just a dude sitting on the beach at night.

Maybe his shifting isn't just physical. Maybe it applies to his feelings too, because I don't see how he can walk around eating candy at Luna Park as we take my English teacher practically hostage.

Some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm. —Willa Cather

Don't listen to him," Thalia interjects. "Our court is more civilized than whatever happens on land." "Tell that to the guy stuck to the ship with electric tape." Kurt points a finger at Marty. "I don't know who you are. I assume you're part of the peace treaty, but I will not have you besmirch the king on our own land." "Whoa, easy. I kid. I joke. I make funnies.

How rude of me. This is Roaan Recklit." We shake hands. Good grip, good grip. "Sorry," he says, releasing my hand. "I forget my own strength.

What do you call a thirteen-year-old mermaid?” I shake my head and Layla shrugs. “What?” “A merteenie!” He slaps his knee and wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye.

She licks her lips, and then there is darkness.