FORTY-ONE
“Betsy’s got the right idea,” Fred began. It was unsettling to have the undivided attention of several vampires and werewolves, but she’d tolerated worse. Once you fought your father to the death, things like unblinking regard weren’t nearly so unsettling. “And there won’t be a better time for our three species to band together. Especially since we’ve always known about werewolves.”
“Beg pardon?” This from Michael Wyndham. “I have to respectfully disagree, Dr. Bimm. Some individuals may know we exist, but in general, most people don’t.”
“Most humans don’t,” she corrected in a tone that was probably annoying or condescending or both. Mindful of her audience, she dialed down her near-constant impatience with people. “The Undersea Folk do. What, did you think in the history of both our species, no werewolf ever crossed paths with a mermaid?”*
From their expressions, Fred guessed it hadn’t occurred to any of them, and continued. “Their—our—habits are different.” She decided to use they instead of we so as to foster the impression of objectivity.
“The Folk can’t hide from the fantastic and frightening; it’s not in their nature. And there are so many astonishing and fantastic things in oceans and lakes and rivers, it’s almost a matter of course for them to embrace the unusual. Things no human has ever seen, even now, when we’ve explored virtually every corner of our planet.
“Once enough of us knew about werewolves, that was that: they all knew. Because it’s not in their nature to talk themselves into thinking it wasn’t true. It’s not in their nature to ignore the unusual. And, with respect to your current situation, avoiding it or trying to change things back is going about it all wrong. I know it’s only been a few years, but the planet hasn’t shaken itself apart because more people now know mermaids are real. How have any of your lives changed as a result of the Folk coming forward?”
Silence was her answer, eventually broken by the man in charge, who let her have the floor out of courtesy, and let her keep it out of interest.
“Perhaps because it may be a matter of territory,” Sinclair began, and Fred nodded at once. Here was a concept she understood, that any of her folk would grasp.
“Of course. Yes. The Undersea Folk control the oceans. Anyone who has ever seen a globe understands that’s three-quarters of the planet. That gives them tremendous leverage. And they’re fantastically wealthy: by maritime law they own all the sunken treasure; any precious jewel or coin or natural resource in the water is ours. Use that; use us.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeannie said bluntly. “I don’t get it.”
That was fine. She was ready for that, and again willed her impatience back. Giving in to her urge to snap, I’m one of the smartest people in the room, I do my homework, I’m right, so just agree so we can put an end to the tedious explanations and get to work, would have a deleterious effect.
“I’m saying the USF have the numbers and the money and the territory, so the nations of the world have to play nice with us. And to their credit, they realized that pretty quickly, which is why this has gone as well (so far) as it has. It may sound cynical, but that meant they couldn’t marginalize us. And they couldn’t pretend we were a hoax—too many people knew the truth. So they had to work with us, and they had to be decent about it. Nobody wants to look like the assholes bullying mermaids.”
“But what would be in it for you, Dr. Bimm?” This from the small brunette, Tina, who had heard every word while never leaving Sinclair’s side.
She thought about her father and his bad choices and how she’d had to kill him to save not only herself, but countless others. “Allies are always good,” she replied simply. “I don’t think there’s a person in this room who would deny it.” Not even Betsy, who was over in the corner giving Marc a piece of her mind—not that she could spare it. Now, now. In her own way, she cares for her people easily as much as I care for mine. If she wants to yell at a doctor about shoes, where’s the harm?
“So rather than be your own separate small nations at the whim of the world, ally with us. I know about werewolves, and since I met Betsy I’ve known vampires were real, but I would never presume to guess how many there are. Less than a million in each case, I would estimate.” She was being generous. She figured the number was quite a bit lower. “That’s the population of Rhode Island.”
“Yes, we are few, comparably speaking,” Sinclair said. “And . . . ?”
“And now the world knows about vampires. My suggestion is, the three of us become the faces of all three newly acknowledged species. A triad.”
“Us versus them?” Wyndham, always a predator, asked.
“Us combined with them.” She turned to Sinclair. “This is your wife’s purpose. It’s mine, too, I think—why I was born. And”—with a nod at an expressionless Michael Wyndham—“my understanding is that Michael fought for his spot at the head of the Pack—to the death, I would guess.” No one said anything, but Jeannie’s gaze shifted to Lara, who blushed and looked down, fingering the hem of her New England Aquarium shirt.
“So here we three sit, so to speak,” Fred continued, “controlling thrones (so to speak) by right of conquest. And maybe destiny is a lie; maybe there’s no such thing and it’s just an astonishing string of coincidences. Either way, we’d be fools to turn our backs on what is an unprecedented opportunity.”
“I think Dr. Bimm makes some excellent points. We can—” Sinclair cut himself off and cocked his head. “I hear gunshots.”