Gaire relaxed her tail, settled on the landing pad, forced all the water from her lungs, and drew on the change magic. A cloud of lightning bubbles surrounded her. Each one flickered and flashed. Power poured through her. Her fin split in two, separating into two legs. Her lungs changed from water-breathing to air-breathing and burned with the need to take a breath. Then she dropped to the flat place in the surface of the corral, made smooth by hundreds of years of mer-people shifting from one form to another.
When the bubbles dissipated, Gaire stepped through the gel screen that separated the underwater city from the crush of the ocean. She had to hurry. Her lessons could wait, but Mariella, her teacher, would complain about her absence. Questions meant answers. Answers required lies, and Gaire had no skill for lying.
No one knew that she’d already found her fated mate. That she’d already visited him at least a dozen times. That she couldn’t stay away.
If the Mother Mistress discovered the truth about Gaire’s walks topside, she would be punished and thrown into the dark beneath the mercity.
She hurried over ancient footpaths, toward the gardens that covered the stair-step rock face below the queen’s home. Her instructor waited on a corral bench, surrounded by water blooms.
Mariella, Daughter of Morvoren, Daughter of Arglwyddes, Chief Madam Gardener, had been teaching Gaire to form sea corral into artistic shapes. Gaire’s training didn’t typically go well, but it didn’t go poorly. It gave her something interesting to do in the world she’d grown up in.
Gaire paused at the entrance to the royal garden. She scanned the shelves until her gaze rested on the silvery-haired merwoman. Her gray-green leg-scales glinted in the light. She waved her blue-tipped and tattooed hands over a bed of brightly colored polyps. They bloomed and closed alternately.
Mariella did not change her task. She didn’t speak or turn, and time waved by.
Gaire grew antsy but speaking before being spoken to wasn’t allowed. The gardener had to know she was there. She knew. Time waved by. How much, Gaire wasn’t certain, but she remained, waiting for her lesson.
Finally, Mariella straightened. She didn’t turn. Her hair floated around her. “You’re late for your training.”
“I had…” Gaire winced at the pause. She couldn’t lie to save her life. “I had things to do.” Places to go. Mortals to see.
Mariella pursed her lips, evaluating the younger mermaid. “Indeed.”
The truth danced on the tip of Gaire’s tongue, but she didn’t let it out. Walking topside was forbidden. Fated mates were reserved for those who held some magical skill, but unification wasn’t allowed until the Mother Mistress gave her permission.
Mariella crossed her arms, and her eyes flashed. “Gaire. You’ve been in forbidden places.” She moved closer. “By the sand you’ve trailed behind you, you’ve been astride. Far too prematurely,” she added.
Gaire flinched and cast a look behind her. She couldn’t see any sand, but Mariella had an ability Gaire couldn’t fathom. A moment later, the revelation lodged in her brain. Despite her care in coming and going, she’d been found out. Alarms and warnings would echo throughout the dome any minute.
She shuddered. Penance came next, and she had to see him once more time. She met the older mer’s gaze. “I have to see him. You can’t take him from me now that we’re linked.”
“Oh, Gaire,” Marielle whispered. “You didn’t…” Mariella’s voice trailed away.
Gaire didn’t wait for the censure. She bolted toward the exit. Running as fast as she could, she called to the sea creatures. The charcoal dolphins couldn’t have gone far. The appeared at the edge of the dome, and Gaire dove through the magical barrier and into the frigid water. She took hold of the dorsal fins and glanced back, expecting an army in pursuit.
Yet no one was there. Not even Mariella.
Chapter 3
San Francisco
Calder scrubbed his head, keeping his eyes clothes against the shampoo suds. Gaire waited at the edge of his thoughts, making it nearly impossible to get through anything.
Sandalwood and cinnamon scented the steam wafting through the white tiled bathroom. The blasted woman. Twisting the star shaped knobs, he shut off the shower.
He combed his hair and his beard, then dressed in khaki shorts. He splashed his favorite spicy cologne across his shirt before he slipped into his favorite board shoes. Anticipating the distraction the evening might provide, Calder smiled. Rolling the gray sleeves up to his elbows, he studied himself in the full-length mirror. Calder strolled out of the bathroom to open the door a crack, and he started tossing things in semi-organized piles. At least it would look like he tried to keep the place clean.
Mike’s cheerful whistle trilled in the stairwell. He appeared a moment later and strolled inside without stopping to knock. “I’ll never understand why your walls are so bare. You could fill them up with the artwork you keep.”
“You know which one I’d put—”
Mike groaned. “Except that one. Sell that one.”
“Back to that, are we?” Calder’s voice held a hint of warning.
Mike plopped down on the black futon and pulled a throw pillow onto his lap. “Maybe she’s your mom.”
Flashes of the most recent late-night rendezvous crossed Calder’s mind. “I don’t think so.”
Mike lifted his hands. “Fine. I’ll let it go for now. You’re going out, and that’s progress, right?” He stood and then tugged at his partially unbuttoned shirt. “Come on, Paul Bunyan.”
Calder bared his teeth at the lumberjack reference then pushed the ethereal beauty from his mind. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
As the evening progressed, Calder and Mike made their way down the beach front, visiting all Mike’s favorite haunts. Women with brightly painted fingers lounged in bikinis, stirring drinks, reminding Calder of Gaire. Even when they looked nothing like her.
At the third bar, Calder sat on a barstool and ordered another whiskey, drinking to dull the edges of his desire. He made small talk with the woman sitting nearby. Warmth crept up from his toes, and his conversation dwindled to monosyllable words, soon followed by long stretches of silence. The woman finally gave up on him, moving on to a baby-faced man in uniform.
After three drinks, Calder succeeded in clearing rational thought from his head, but it made the gnawing want more blatant, more feral. Plodding across the floor, he tripped on an outstretched foot and mumbled an apology before sliding into the safety of a dimly lit booth.
White sand littered the floor and footsteps made a scraping sound that mimicked the surf, pulling dreams and memories of dreams into Calder’s mind. He needed a reprieve.
Mike disappeared to woo an inviting mahogany-haired vixen who had been sending him smiles and winks since they entered the beachfront pub. Calder snorted into his empty snifter when they moved to their own booth and snuggled up on the same bench. Mike’s hand slipped below the table and onto the woman’s lap.
At least Mike was getting somewhere. Calder had Gaire too much on his mind to do anything else but agonize over what he couldn’t have.
He waved the waitress over, a busy young woman in jean shorts and a tiny blush top.
Calder tossed a crumpled ten onto her tray. “Another. Keep the change,” he gruffed.
The waitress smiled. Her happiness glared in the face of Calder’s dark and broody mood. She was too pink, too giggly, and too peppy.
“Sure thing, hon,” she chirped.
In short order, she returned in a cloud of over-powering vanilla fragrance. Two shot glasses on her tray. Both filled with an amber liquid. “Here, hon, here’s the one you ordered and one from that pretty lady in the corner.”
Calder craned his head around the waitress’ hips, wobbling slightly. “Where?” His thoughts slurred slowly into one another.
She giggled. “Over there – real looker, strawberry blonde hair. She’s been watching you since you came in.”
He raised the glass toward the darkened corn
er in a gesture of thanks.
The waitress took one step forward, nudging him with her elbow. “If you don’t go thank her in person, I’ll take her home with me, big guy.”
He grunted, and the waitress went on her way.
Calder lumbered to his feet, pausing just long enough to toss back the two whiskey shots. His feet were heavy at the end of his stiff legs. He leaned on chairs and tables situated around the room as he made his way across the floor. He shuffled toward the shadowed corner.
Pub lights shined in his glassy eyes. His vision didn’t clear until he was nearly on top of the table he now leaned heavily upon. His eyes adjusted as she slanted toward him. A moonbeam face surrounded by red-blonde hair swam in front of his eyes.
In a velvety voice, bright red lips formed the words, “Hello, Calder.”
The room tilted and only one thought came forward.
Gaire.
Two rows of pearl white teeth caught her bottom lip, and a smile danced about her mouth. He trembled as her pale hand moved slowly through the air, and then hovered a moment over Calder’s large hand gripping the table. His knuckles turned white. It was impossible. Had he imbibed so much that he lost his hold on reality?
“You’re here. How are you here?” The words slipped out, and his breath caught in his throat.
“Mermaids often stroll among mortals,” she whispered. “Especially for a mate promised by fate.”
His whole body strained toward the touch he had been craving. “Fated mates?” Anything to keep her talking. Everything to keep her there.
“Mmmhmmm,” she sighed. Then she nodded, and her hair brushed his hand.
Don’t do this to me, don’t. Don’t push me over the edge.
Her unpolished finger traced a line across the back of his hand. “Hello, sweetie.”
He took a shuddering breath.
Sighing, she stroked the paint flecks around his fingernails. She pulled her porcelain hand back into her lap, hidden beneath the table between them.
Calder couldn’t move, and his clamoring thoughts blurred to one long Aaaaaaaah. The exhale after a thirst-quenching drink. He braced his knees. Desire pulled at him and his pulse throbbed in his eardrums.
The scent of coconuts and jasmine filled his nose. More real, stronger than any time before. Old memories stirred…
Two young men pedaled hard through the city streets, laughing. “Well, Cal, which girl did you like?”
Calder shrugged. “I don’t think I care, Mike. I like them all.” But he stopped pedaling to frown. With a screech of brakes on metal and rubber on concrete, the bicycle stopped abruptly in the middle of a restaurant delivery driveway.
Mike tossed his head, halting on the other side. “What’s the matter, Cal?”
Calder’s scowl deepened. “Dunno. Smelled something…” He looked toward the ocean. “Familiar.”
The apparition refracted, and Calder’s grip on the table loosened. He reached for Gaire, but his unsteady legs bent at the knees. He slipped ungracefully to the floor.
Someone laughed.
Someone else accused him of being drunk.
That much was true.
Through the blackened, fuzzy thoughts, a feminine voice stirred the air near his ear. “I cannot stay, beloved. She is here; she must not find me. I may have led her to you. You are in danger. Go home as quickly as you can. Meet me there.”
Part of him cheered. Maybe he wasn’t losing his mind. Not all the way. Not yet.
But the other side of him railed at the unfairness.
No, no, no, Gaire. Don’t leave.
No words made it past his lips.
The blackness receded, chased by the sting of a slap on his face.
Mike called Calder’s name from far away. Light shined across his eyelids, it darkened, and then shined again. Smaller, softer hands blotted his face with towels.
Calder opened his eyes, and a bright red marred a white cloth as it moved away from his face. The room spun, and he let his eyes slip closed once more. He must have hit his head on the way down.
When Calder’s lids peeled fully away from already gritty eyes, the fixture above the table was swung wildly. He rolled over to his knees, ignoring the protests of Mike, the waitress, and other bar patrons.
He squinted into the room. “Where did she…?”
The waitress kneeled beside him. Calder leaned away from the heavily perfumed woman. The smell turned his stomach.
Mike pulled Calder to his feet. “Still can’t hold your liquor,” Mike said. “Maybe shouldn’t have come out drinking.”
“This was your idea.”
“Touché.”
Calder nodded to the waitress, and she wedged her body against him.
“There you go, big guy,” she soothed. The warmth from Mike’s hands fell away.
Calder stared into her gray eyes. “Where did that woman go – the woman that bought my drink?” He mouthed the words so Mike couldn’t hear over the resuming noise in the bar.
She tilted her head. “She was gone by the time we got over here to pick you up. Shame you ran her off, though.” She laughed, patting Calder’s chest before picking up her tray.
Calder reached out, pulling the waitress back to him. “Did she…”
“Did she what, big guy?”
It was a stupid thing to utter aloud, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Gaire was something otherworldly… something fishy. He swallowed, then pushed ahead, ignoring the sudden dryness in his throat.
“Did she have legs?” he blurted out.
She scowled. “Are you okay? Maybe I should call an ambulance? You must have hit your head harder than I thought. What else would she have? Fins?” When he did not smile or laugh, her mirth drained away. “You sure you’re okay?”
Mike’s hand came down to rest on Calder’s shoulder, steadying him once more. “Maybe the ambulance is a good idea.” Mike echoed the waitress, and Calder noted the worry in Mike’s voice.
“No. No. I’m okay. Call me a car.”
Mike crossed his arms. “You’re a car.”
Calder swore then swayed slightly. “I’m serious, Mike. I’m ready to go home.”
Mike’s grip on Calder’s arm tightened. You sure?”
Calder attempted a grateful smile. “Yeah.”
Mike turned to the waitress and handed her two one-hundred-dollar bills. The waitress pranced away with her tray, once again behind the counter, processing waiting customers’ tabs.
Mike guided Calder into a nearby chair, pushing him into the seat. “Give me a minute. I need to check on Venora.”
“Sure.”
“You wait right here.”
Mike’s hair turned darker, then lighter, darker then lighter as he strolled from pool of light to pool of light in the dimly lit bar. As he spoke into the ear of a woman Calder didn’t recognize, the brunette smiled. Then she frowned toward Calder.
In the end, she nodded up at Mike, and then placed her purse on a chair next to her so she could dig through it. She pulled out a scrap of paper, a pen, wrote something, and tucked it into Mike’s pocket. Her hand lingered longer than needed and she pulled Mike toward her. After she whispered into his ear, Mike peered down at her and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up at awkward, blond angles over his surprised eyebrows. Mike glanced back at Calder.
Calder lifted his right hand to wave at his friend. He didn’t know what the woman whispered, but he could guess. The throbbing in his head increased. The wound was so sore already. The next day would be awful.
His fingertips found stickiness and he explored the painful area on his forehead. Bits of dried blood flaked away to land on the table in front of him.
Calder swept his arm across the table to send the mess to the sandy floor. The outing had been a bad idea. Gaire swam across his thoughts.
He had come to forget, but she was already there. He wasn’t going to wait on Mike any longer.
Calder pulled himself to his feet and trudged toward
the exit. He slipped out, letting the bar’s screen door slam behind him. The slap rang across the quiet beach. Footprints of the day’s visitors lingered as the only evidence of visitors.
He stepped over a beach towel, folded into the sand and nearly hidden. A blue plastic shovel lay nearby. A mom had come to the beach, probably. He imagined himself as a dark-haired boy running across the sand.
Had his mother liked the beach? The ocean? Why had she left him behind?
The bar door slammed again. “Calder?” Mike called. “Taxi’s on its way.”
Calder didn’t turn around, still staring across the moonlit coastline. “Yeah.”
“Let’s go home.”
Calder turned from the water. When Mike reached him, he playfully punched the smaller man’s shoulder. “Bet you didn’t figure on this sorta evening.”
Mike laughed. “No, no, I didn’t think you’d start tossing back whiskey, fall, knock your head, and split your skull open.”
Calder leaned on the metal railing surrounding the building. “No.” His hand brushed across his forehead, and he winced at the pain. He continued, “You’ve always been good to me. Like with the bike all those years ago.”
Mike shrugged and discomfort in tinted Mike’s expression. “Don’t get mushy about that again. It was just a bike to me. I’d gotten two that year. And it’s not like we adopted you or anything.”
“But you know it wasn’t just a bike to me, Mike. I’m not sure I’d have made it through those years without that bit of hope. But I do have a question…” Calder paused, searching for a way to ask the question without sounding delusional. “Did you see a woman at the table where I fell?”
Mike folded his arms across his chest. “You hit your head pretty hard…” His voice trailed off. “I figured you were on your way to the bathroom.”
Calder exhaled. “No.”
Mike put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, you saw a pretty woman. I didn’t see her. Though, that’s not the way it normally works with us.”
Calder grimaced. “No, I guess not.” A yellow taxi pulled into the sandy parking lot. “Listen,” he put his hands into his pockets. “Thanks. My head’s clearing, and the whiskey’s wearing off a bit. You stay here.” He gestured toward his injury. “It’s really just a scratch. I’ll be back to work in the morning.”
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