Fathom by L. Standage (spanish books to read .TXT) 📕

can do that myself.” I reached for the paper towel. He brushed my hand away and dabbed at the scrape again. Ow. Was he enjoying this?

“There’s some gravel in this one.” He continued to gently brush at the scrape.

“I take it Linnaeus saw you again, Olivia,” said Walter. I nodded, blushing as Calder put band aids on my knees. Stop it, Liv.

“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” said Eamon as he moved toward the kitchen, thumbing through the file. “Let’s just take a look at what he’s up to.”

He laid the file on the kitchen counter. Everyone else gathered around. I rolled my jeans down and followed.

“Why would he have all of this on paper?” I asked. “Wouldn’t a computer file be more secure?”

“Computers can be hacked,” said Uther. He grasped the rabbit’s foot on his belt loop.

“And Linnaeus is old school,” said Eamon. He studied the first page. Everything was out of order from when the papers got scattered in the car. The first page had handwritten notes on it, notes that I’d begun reading in Linnaeus’s office, but didn’t get to finish.

New information: Pacific King called Llyr. Queen Hydria. One son, one daughter.

Heir apparent...Princess Daxia, second and youngest child. Matriarchal society. Females hold the power (??) Fascinating!

Capital City in Pacific South: Zydrunas, location currently unknown.

Cordelia sighed with relief. “At least he doesn’t know where we are. He didn’t see that far into the vessel.”

“How would he know my family’s names?” Seidon asked, looking concerned and protective.

“He would have learned it from the vessel. That information precedes the Prayer,” said Cordelia.

“Linnaeus seems to be surprised she’s the heir to the throne and not you, Your Highness,” said Walter. “You being the male child and the oldest child nonetheless.”

“In our world, the female child is always the heir,” said Seidon. “Everyone knows that. You don’t think Linnaeus has something plotted concerning Daxia does he?”

“Even if he does,” Cordelia said, “she’s safe where she is.”

But Seidon’s face darkened vindictively as we continued through the file. The next page had another photo on it. It was of a man I didn’t know, but whose features were similar to the other merpeople—dewy skin and large eyes.

Name: Ilan

Origin: Pacific, namely North American Reach

Specialty: stealth

Current Status: deceased

At this page, Cordelia sneered.

“Who is he?” asked Walter.

“Ilan. A cohort of Marinus, and a fool. He was killed in the pursuit just after Marinus stole the vessel.”

Eamon turned the page. This one had Marinus’s picture on it. “Earth bound…” said Eamon, pointing to Marinus’s status. “He can never go back.”

“Correct,” said Cordelia. “Stealing a vessel is a serious crime. And in placing it in human hands, Marinus has forfeited his right to return to his proper physical form.”

The next was a black and white photocopy of a piece of paper from a notepad, with a handwritten poem on it. The poem was exact—if not very similar—to the one I had heard come out of the vessel in Linnaeus’s office.

Eamon picked the paper up with his eyebrows knit.

“It’s the Prayer. He has the original somewhere else,” he said. Cordelia snatched the paper away and crumpled it up.

“For this…this…human to have such information is not only insulting, it’s downright blasphemous. Thank Lord Nereus he doesn’t have the vessel anymore.”

“You never explained what the Prayer is,” said Samantha. Cordelia sent her a venomous glower, but Seidon spoke up.

“It’s part of the ceremony for merpeople to take human form. Not something we want in the hands of men like Linnaeus.”

“Or any human,” added Cordelia. “How do you know so much about it, Eamon?”

He held up his hands. “I’ve known about it my whole life, Captain. It comes with the job.”

“Look at this,” I said, picking up the next sheet of paper. It was a trifold invitation for some kind of party printed on luxurious linen paper with shining, embossed lettering. The front fold read, ‘Tu ad cognoscendam veritatem’ over a swirling flourish.

“Tu ad cognoscendam veritatem,” I said, probably butchering the pronunciation.

“What does that mean?” Samantha asked.

“It’s Latin,” said Walter. “Means ‘learn the truth for yourself,’ or ‘you will learn the truth,’ something like that.” Everyone stared at him. “What?” he continued. “I went to university.”

I opened the trifold, where more embossed words were written, and read out loud:

“Doran Q. Linnaeus, Proprietor and Chief Shareholder to Oceana Marine Adventure Theme Parks Inc., cordially invites you to attend a banquet held in honor of one of the greatest and most unprecedented discoveries of our age, the declaration of which will rival the likes of men such as Galileo, Newton, and Darwin.”

I cast a look of horror toward Seidon and Cordelia, who stared at the brochure as if it would explode.

“Who are these men?” asked Cordelia. “Galileo, Newton, and Darwin?”

“Scientists,” said Eamon. “They made important discoveries. World-altering.”

“You don’t think Linnaeus is going to tell people about us?” Seidon asked.

“Who’d believe him, he’s got no proof,” Cordelia said, her voice low and angry.

“What else does it say?” Natasha asked. I looked back at the invitation and read the rest of it aloud.

“Arrive at six-thirty for cocktails, blah-blah-blah…and then, ladies and gentlemen, your worlds will be forever changed by the unveiling of our planet’s greatest secret, and the arrival of a most distinguished guest.”

Heavy silence filled the kitchen. Each pallid face drew into a frown.

“…a ‘most distinguished guest’? But that could mean anything, couldn’t it?” asked Samantha in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “This guy probably hangs out with all kinds of distinguished people who could have made discoveries.”

“Sam…” I said, shaking my head. “The guy owns a crappy theme park. He’s probably put millions of dollars into it. What else could he reveal that would make him filthy rich and famous forever?”

“But even if he does have the audacity to make such a claim,” said Eamon, “Cordelia’s right. The only proof he could use would be a living merperson.”

“He could if he had the vessel,” said Walter. But Uther shook his head.

“The images and sounds that come from a vessel can be