"Welcome back, ladies," Cupid says. "I trust you found the facilities to your liking?"

"Yes, Cupid. All is well in your god-sized bathroom," I say.

"Good to know. And for the record, the bathroom isn't the only thing god-sized around here." Cupid grins and does his lecherous eyebrow wiggle.

Ugh.

"Could've fooled me," Shelly says. "We all saw the naked statue of you out front."

Score! A point for Shelly!

Cupid turns as red as the roses in his garden. Actually, the redder he gets, the paler the roses look, like he's stealing their color. "I was a baby."

"Of course," Shelly says.

Cupid straightens the hem of his toga. "I suppose you're an expert. And, Zeus knows, I do prefer someone with experience."

Shelly's eyes flash, and her fists clench. I better change the subject before we have an all-out brawl. "Much as I hate to interrupt this 'conversation' you and Shelly are having, we have something important to talk to all of you about."

"Fine," Cupid says. "Everyone sit. We'll get to your little problem in just a moment. We're almost done with the party planning."

"This is more important than party planning," I say. I don't think I can focus on celebrating when so many of our friends are at risk.

"Do not question a god, Waverly. Trust me. This party will be one of the most important events in your life."

"But ..."

"Enough. Now, the party." Cupid waves his hand, and a scroll appears—hanging in the air with no one holding it. "Let me see. I will enquire about using that old warehouse as the venue. There will be a costume contest with Gaia, Iridessa, and Crumpet as judges. Gaia will absolutely hate doing it, so all the more reason to pick her." Cupid chuckles and then snorts. "Sorry, that is going to be terribly amusing. And Iridessa will judge even though she has no taste and no sense of humor. And Crumpet loves Halloween, so he must be a judge."

"Er ... Cupid, why would you appoint Iridessa when she has no sense of humor and no taste?" I ask.

"Because I'm already on Iridessa's Bad List, and if she doesn't get to judge, she'll turn me into a frog. Again." Cupid rolls his eyes. "Fairies are always stuck in the past. They have the absolute worst imaginations. Sorry, Lily-Bella, Pickles. You guys aren't like her."

"It's okay, Cupid. I pretty much agree. Archaic spells. Ancient rules," Pickles says.

"Lily-Bella and Fintan will be in charge of decorations. Remember what I said, Lily-Bella."

"No pink." Lily-Bella nods her head.

"Good. And Fintan, remember, lots of pyrotechnics, but let's try not to blow up anything, or anyone, important."

Fintan frowns. "I'll try," he says. "But I can't promise. Sometimes when I'm around, stuff explodes."

"I have the utmost confidence in you, old chap. Now, let's see. Oh, yes. The haunted house. Originally Pierce was going to organize it, as scaring people to death is more in the vampire sphere of expertise, but, well ..." He looks at me. "Sorry, Wave."

"It's okay," I croak, a little lump building in my throat.

"Can you and Pickles be in charge of the haunted house?"

"Sure," I say.

"Yeah," Pickles says, but she looks at me nervously.

"It's okay, Pickles. I've been to the haunted house at the pier a hundred times. We'll figure it out together."

"Cool, Wave."

Cupid's scroll winds up, revealing the next part of the plans. The heading is now 'Food,' and lists the items we discussed before I went to the god-sized bathroom.

"Now, where was I?" Cupid says. "Oh, yes, food. We'll have everything we discussed earlier—raw meatballs, fairy cakes, Chinese, garlic pizza, and blood. Plus, blood-free beverages for the hemophobic."

Cupid looks up from the list. "Thunder is in charge of security."

"If anyone is out of line, my security team and I will tie them to trees." Thunder hits his hand with his fist.

"Sounds like an effective deterrent," says Cupid. "I think we've got a plan."

"Finally! Now, can we talk about what we know about the bay being poisoned by a corporation that is blackmailing Shelly's father, that possibly kidnapped Shelly's mom, and that wants more mermaids at the school for some unknown, but probably sinister, reason?" I say all in one breath.

"What?" says Lily-Bella.

"Blackmail?" says Thunder.

"More mermaids?" says Fintan.

"Guess we're done with this." Cupid waves his hand in the air, and the scroll rolls up like a lizard's tongue and disappears.

"Tell us what you and Pierce found out," Lily-Bella says. "We were all dying to know, but we didn't want to wake you this morning after what happened ..." I bite my lip to hold back tears, and she trails off. "Oh, sorry, Wave. News spread through the cafeteria like wildfire. The whole school knows."

"It's alright, Lily-Bella. Gossip travels just as fast at an underwater school as a land-based one. I know how it works. And you guys don't have to keep apologizing about Pierce just because I found out he wasn't my boyfriend so much as my bodyguard. Now he's gone."

"He got kicked out for protecting me," Lily-Bella says. "I told him not to, but he wouldn't listen."

"Pierce is stubborn like that. No one blames you. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I am the one who asked you to steal the wand," I say. "And now I don't even know where he is."

"Why don't we find out?" Cupid proposes.

"How?"

"We'll scry."

"How does that work?"

"I look into my magic lava lamp and ask it to show me Pierce. It's pretty simple, really."

"So, you can spy on anyone whenever you want?" I ask.

Cupid gets up from the bed. "Gods need something to make their eternal existence entertaining."

"You're kidding, man," says Thunder.

"Don't worry, Thunder. The gods mostly like to watch humans. They're far more entertaining than any other creatures."

Cupid pulls one of the lava lamps off of a shelf and places it on the shag carpet next to the bed. "Come on, everyone. Have a seat."

We sit in a circle around the lamp. Cupid waves his hand again, and the Hawaiian-print curtains close. The room is dark except for the glow of the lamp. Red and gold swirls of wax dance eerily in the oil.

"Show us your secrets, oh lava lamp of luminescent wisdom!"

The colors swirl. They're coalescing into a shape! I can't believe it. Will I really get to see Pierce? The wax in the oil forms itself into a tongue sticking straight out at Cupid. My heart sinks.

"You are the dumbest lava lamp I've ever owned!" Cupid roars. A wind blows through the room. There are little lightning bolts and claps of thunder. "I am a god, so get in line pronto and show me Pierce Knightguard, or suffer my wrath!"

I can't even tell you what the lava lamp does next. All I'll say is that it's a rude human gesture made with a certain finger.

"Enough!" Cupid bellows.

"Maybe you should try being nice to it," Pickles says. "You might've hurt its feelings."

"Whatever," Cupid says. He waves his magic god-hands, and the wind dies down. "Fine. I'll try it for you, Pickles. And for Wave too. I know she's lovesick over Pierce, even if she won't admit it. You can't fool the god of love."

"I only want to see that he's okay, because I feel bad that I got him into trouble." Even as I say this, I know I'm lying.

Cupid purses his lips and shakes his head but doesn't call me out. He puts his face next to the lamp. "Okay, lamp. I'm sorry I lorded over you like that. You are a lovely, talented, and lusciously shaped lamp. Can you please show us Pierce Knightguard? I mean, if you want to."

The wax starts spinning really fast. I guess that worked. Then it slows and coalesces. I see Pierce's image! My heart flutters.

"What's he doing?" Lily-Bella asks.

"It's hard to see," says Thunder.

"What's that?" says Pickles. She's pointing at an alarming image.

"Poseidon's beard! It looks like a giant fish tank. But those aren't fish," I say.

"What are they?" says Pickles. "It's so blurry."

"They're merfolk," Shelly gasps.

I think I'm going to be sick. There are six fuzzy merfolk languishing in what appears to be a huge industrial fish tank. They look very thin, and their hair is a sick pea-green color. My stomach fills with acid. "That's horrible," I say. "What kind of person would do this to another being?"

"One of them could be my mom." Shelly's voice is cracking.

"Oh, Shelly, I'm so sorry," says Pickles. She holds Shelly's hand.

There is a sudden movement in the lamp. It's hard to tell, but I think Pierce looks over his shoulder. He seems startled. Then he disappears from view. Did something scare Pierce? What could frighten a vampire like him?

"Where did he go?" says Thunder.

"I don't know. It's like he vanished," I say.

"Do you know those merfolk?" Pickles asks.

I squint, trying to make out the images. "I can't tell who they are. Can you make the image clearer, Cupid? And can you reset it to find Pierce again?" I say, hopefully.

"I doubt it. It's a cut-rate, loser lamp I got from a bazaar in San Francisco." The image swirls back into the finger gesture and then goes dark. Cupid throws it against the wall. The glass shatters and the oily liquid inside explodes everywhere, including on my borrowed pink outfit. Cupid waves his hand, and the mess disappears. "I've wanted to do that for a long time. Now, where were we?"

Pickles scoots over and hugs me. "It's okay, Wave. Maybe Pierce will rescue them."

"But he disappeared. Maybe whoever is doing this is more powerful than a vampire?"

"Look, Wave," Cupid says. "Sometimes, the lamp is wrong. It really is, or was, the worst scrying lamp I've ever had."

I sit up straight and focus on the problem. "Okay, guys, we need to plan our next move. I didn't get a good look at the guy blackmailing Shelly's dad, but I'm sure the DOT Corporation is behind this. They're dumping toxic waste into the bay and imprisoning merfolk. The strange man I heard on the yacht wants more merfolk at the school, but apparently the merfolk royal family has hired a spy to monitor him."

A tear streams down Shelly's cheek. Luckily, the tears don't have the same potency when the merperson is out of the water.

Something is niggling at my brain. Why are they keeping those merfolk in a tank of water? Something about mermaid tears is important. I'm sure of it. Why? Because I have almost supernatural powers of induction. Or deduction. Or whatever. I always get those confused. But I am a good detective. Our tears are powerful. That has to be it.

"Don't worry, Shelly," Pickles says. "We'll get your mom back home safe."

Shelly nods.

"The yacht is picking up more toxic waste tonight," I say. "It's being transported by truck. All we have to do is follow the truck after it has made the delivery, and hopefully, it will lead us to the source."

"How will you follow it?" says Fintan.

"I have an idea. I'm supposed to go to dinner with dad on the yacht tonight." Shelly snaps her fingers. "We could ..."

Shelly is interrupted by a thundering voice. "Cupid?"

"Who's that?" Fintan says.

Cupid's bow and arrow appear out of the ether. "Oh, Hades ladies. It's Uncle Apollo."

"Where are you, you scoundrel? I shall send you to Hades for punishment, you worm of a god!" Apollo bellows.

"You guys better get out of here," Cupid says. "I'll hold him off." He waves his hand. The ceiling of his room disappears, and Apollo's chariot hovers above us. "Don't worry. The alicorns pretty much can fly without guidance. Most of the time, anyway. I'll probably be with Uncle Hades for a while. But he'll tire of torturing me. Eventually. See you soon."

We climb in, and in moments we're careening through the air. As we zoom into the fairy grove back on campus, a pair of white seagulls scatter, squawking and flapping in annoyance.

It's eight o'clock. My dad and Headmaster Crumpet never returned from their meeting. Even though I still want to speak to Dad about what I learned on the yacht last night, I decide it's probably for the best that I didn't get to. There is no way he would let me do something as stupidly dangerous as what I'm about to do. Parents never want their fingerlings to do anything risky.

Here's Shelly's plan: Shelly and I—together, as a team with one goal (so for sure nothing will go wrong, and she isn't tricking me and luring me to my demise)—will go to the yacht tonight, discover who's behind all this, rescue the trapped merfolk, and hopefully stop the culprits from polluting the bay.

How will we do this? Well, first, we have to get past Iridessa's 'you are all in prison here at West Marin Heights' spell. Luckily, the permission slips we had for Olympus are still valid. They work for a full-24-hour period. So yay! Thanks, Dad. Then, all we have to do is get to the yacht and hide in some empty barrels. Workers will arrive to drop off the new toxic waste shipment and pick up the empties. But of course, they won't really be empty, because Shelly and I will hide inside. The workers will unwittingly load us onto the truck, and we'll be on our way to the evil lair where the mers are being held.

Okay, so once we're at the evil lair, we don't have the most solid plan, but with two powerful, smart, stealthy mermaids, how could we possibly fail? If anyone can sneak around and find the captive mers and figure out what's going on, it's us.

So, step one: Shelly and I climb into a little metal boat anchored at the dock. It rocks as we step in, and my feet slip on the slick bench. I manage to sit, but the aluminum seat is cold and wet. Why am I wearing a skirt and no shoes or underwear? Oh, right, standard mermaid safety. We're traveling over water. Although, I have my waterproof pack containing underwear, pants, shoes, and socks, so I can change into more appropriate sneaking-around clothes.

The half-moon is hidden in dark clouds, and a bat flies over our heads. Is it wrong that the bat makes me think of Pierce? Everything reminds me of him—the smell of strawberries, the feel of the wind on my neck, the redwoods, the beach, the wisps of a fairy love song coming from the grove up the hill. I push down my emotions. I have to stay focused.

Shelly fires up the motor. It is so loud, I'm afraid someone will come down and stop us from leaving. I wanted us to swim to the yacht, but Shelly can't go in the water. I still don't know why it affects her so much more than me.

"I want you to know I appreciate what you're doing, Waverly," Shelly yells over the roar of the engine. The wind is blowing my hair, but at least it is in a ponytail.

"It's okay, Shelly," I yell back. "I have to stop these people, and I appreciate your help."

She looks away and frowns. What does this mean? I'm getting a horrible feeling about this venture. It's probably nothing, though. Shelly and I want the same thing right now—to stop the DOT Corporation.

"We'll find your mom, Shelly," I say, not only to reassure her, but also to remind her that we share a goal.

In a few minutes, we arrive next to the yacht. Shelly cuts the engine, and she deftly ties the boat to the yacht. We climb up the ladder onto the deck.

"Shhh," Shelly says. "Everyone should be getting ready for dinner, so we should be able to get to the hold without being seen. The pickup is at ten. Follow me."

We walk as quietly as we can down a flight of metal stairs similar to those that led to the engine room, though we're in the aft of the ship this time. We come to a massive metal door that has a combination lock. I hear voices not far away. "Do you know the combination?" I telepathically ask Shelly.

"Of course," she says back. "What teenager doesn't know how to sneak into the forbidden places in her own home?"

"You're right. Sorry I asked. But, um, someone's coming, so a little faster."

"If you'd stop talking to me, I could concentrate."

The footsteps get closer; my heart rate accelerates. Finally, Shelly gets the door open. We slip inside a dark room and close the door as softly as we can. The footsteps stop directly outside.

"Gurges, I told you no one was here," says Chum. "How much rum did you drink?"

"Half a bottle, but I'm sure I heard something."

"You smell like a sailor."

"I am a sailor," Gurges says, letting out an enormous belch. "What time's the pickup?"

"We still have an hour. Come on. The boss'll be expecting his grub."

"I think it's disgusting that he eats grubs."

"What do you want?" Chum says. "He's a fish."

They both snort with laughter. Finally, they walk away, and I remember to breathe again. This is when I realize the room reeks like a beached whale left in the sun for months. Urgh!

"Nice smell," I hiss.

"It's horrible. I know. But this is where they keep the barrels." She switches on the light. The room is not as big as I thought it would be. About the size of our cabin, and there are half a dozen metal barrels on a pallet.

"These are the empty barrels. The ones that leaked and have to go back for repair." She opens a lid. "Okay, get in."

"Okay," I say, hiding behind a barrel to change into my pants, socks, and shoes.

"Quickly. Someone could come at any time."

"Okay, but how will you close the lid of your barrel by yourself?"

"I'm not going."

I grab her wrist. "What? I thought we were doing this together!"

"I have to go have dinner with my dad. If I don't, he'll be furious. And suspicious."

"I have to go alone?" I really want to kill Shelly right now. "I trusted you."

"You'll be fine, Waverly. You can do anything."

"Wait, how will I get back to school afterward?"

"I'll take care of it," she says. "Come on. Get in."

I climb into the barrel and sit on the bottom with my knees pulled against my chest. I have to do this. I have to save the bay and the trapped merfolk, even if I have to do it alone. "How will I breathe?"

"It's probably not airtight. It has a leak, remember?"

"Probably?" Shelly closes the lid, and it's pitch black inside. "Shelly! Wait." My voice is tinny in the small space.

I hear the door close. I'm alone. In a barrel with residues of toxic waste. Getting ready to be transported in a truck to an unknown location to face kidnappers and polluters by myself.

"Waverly Marie Fishwater," I say to myself. "You've bested great white sharks, vampires, and malicious mermaids. What are a few evil humans?"