Calder waited while Mike’s worry warred with Mike’s lust. He studied Calder for long moments. “You sure?”
“I’m grown, Mike. I’ll be okay.”
Mike slipped one hand into his pocket.
Calder caught the sound of paper crinkling. “I’m fine. I’ll take the taxi home and sleep it off. I don’t think you’d be happy spending the rest of your night…” He paused, knowing he had already won. “…sleeping.” He drew out the word.
Mike chuckled. “Yeah, sleeping doesn’t sound that great.”
Calder offered his hand. “I didn’t think so.”
Mike shook Calder’s hand twice and then jogged back toward the bar. Before disappearing inside, he called, “I’ve never smelled anything so good as Vee. She smells like coming home.”
It was an odd thing to say, and Calder contemplated following Mike back into the bar to meet Vee. But the double-honk of the taxi changed his mind.
When Calder settled onto the ripped-up leather back seat, he rolled down the rear window to dilute the smells in the rent-a-ride. Through bloodshot eyes, the cabby peered at Calder in the rearview mirror. His sleazy grin showed missing teeth.
“Need womans, mister?” The accented voice held a smile.
“Yeah,” Calder muttered under his breath.
“I know womans, mister. Real good womans. Bee-you-ti-ful.”
Calder shook his head. He leaned against the door, ducking out of view. The cool breeze helped push away the alcohol-dulled thoughts.
She had been there. He smiled. Real life. In a bar. For me. His smile faded. Or I’m crazy.
That was probably also a viable option. Nobody else had seen her, and everyone else wanted him to hop into bed with the next agreeable woman. No matter how much Mike wanted him to be, or thought he should be, Calder wasn’t wired that way.
“You want womans, mister?” The voice grated in Calder’s ear. The guy must make a buck or two from the local pimp.
“No, no, I don’t, man.” Calder shifted upward in the seat, meeting the dark eyes of the driver. “I’d rather have a tattoo.”
“What?” He sounded disappointed and confused.
Calder punched the back of the driver’s seat. “Take me to the closest tattoo shop.”
“No womans?”
Calder laughed at the look the driver gave him. “No womans, mister. I already found the one I want. Now time to do something stupid.”
Chapter 4
Cathair Uisce
The sharp-faced older woman slammed her hand down on the ornate mother of pearl inlaid desk. Gaire winced.
The Mother Mistress quivered with intensity. “No. I will not have our customs ignored,” the Mother Mistress demanded.
Long white hair reached the older mermaid’s waist, swaying with the force of the movement. Her hand—trimmed in long fingernails painted in ever-changing, swirling sea colors—fanned across the desk. Her torso remained translucent, though, changing to whitish blue scales from her waist down, covering her two legs.
Gaire stood alone, facing the desk, her gingery hair also long, straightened from the sea water, but beginning to curl as it dried in the air beneath the city dome.
Her bright red lips pressed together, her own skin a pale honey shade with blue-green stretching down her legs.
She ducked her head in acquiescence, bending her knees. Agreeing ended the berating sooner. It was a lesson all young mermaids learned.
“Yes, Mother Mistress,” she demurred.
Regret and compassion flashed across the drawn face of the Mother Mistress. Her scowl relented. “I know your love is growing. Calder will soon be here, but you must have patience.”
She took Gaire’s downturned face in her hand and tilted her chin up. Her fingernails grazed Gaire’s jawbone, and Gaire flinched at the unexpected pain.
Mother Mistress leaned down, close enough that each exhale feathered across Gaire’s face. “You are safest here, child.” Studying Gaire a few moments more, she added, “You may go.”
Gaire struggled to keep her mind empty until she exited the throne room. Once away, her thoughts began tumbling through her mind.
Mother Mistress cannot stop me. If Calder needs me, I will go. Venora will not win him. She will not kill him. Once everyone’s in bed, I’ll sneak to the Looking Well. It’s time I check on him.
Her steps quickened, her slender fingers crept upward to stroke the blue shell hanging between her breasts. A shiver crawled down her spine. What will she do when she finds out I can use the Looking Well?
Crossing beneath the large open-air dome, Gaire felt eyes upon her back. It won’t be long. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it a secret.
She ducked into a cross street as soon as she was able. Far above her, from a window in the castle tower, the white-haired woman watched her cross the reef walkways in their under-water kingdom.
Chapter 5
Calder unlocked his cheap, second-floor apartment door. The sounds seeping through the thin walls brought Gaire to mind. His neighbor-man must have a night of company.
Calder shoved the door closed behind him. Gaire might really be somewhere in the city and a new tattoo on his side meant no good sleep that night. The edges of the bandage pulled at the irritated skin. The ink had been a snap decision on a frustrating night, but he didn’t regret it.
Maybe Gaire would be impressed next time she came around.
He opened his old fridge. The light from the appliance lightbulb splashed across the darkness. Four beer cans stood like sentinels on the top shelf. He chugged one and chunked the can. Then he pulled open a drawer and tsk-tsk-ed over the icy head of lettuce. Taking the black marker from the Velcro spot on the dry erase rectangle, he wrote Need Groceries.
Then he added, Need New Fridge, followed by two exclamation points.
Need MY woman.
He scrawled the words with a wry laugh, underlined it, and added three exclamation points.
Pulling a second beer from the fridge, he crossed to the sliding door. A folding chair rested in the corner of the small balcony. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor, cringing as the skin beneath his large bandage stretched with the movement. The door complained in its track when he shoved against it.
How does she open this so quietly every night?
He cursed, then set his beer on the floor. He lifted the heavy glass panel off the track and slid it open, a rush of cool air skipping across Calder’s shoulders and into the room.
Stepping through, Calder gingerly lowered himself into the folding chair. Mike’s cigarette butts stood upright in a little grove in the sandy soil at the rear of an empty pot. One twig reached up from the center of the pot, long since dead.
The butts remained the remnant from the one- and only-party Mike threw at Calder’s apartment. He chuckled. Had those been out there since last year? A turn in his thoughts brought the end-of-the-night fiasco to his mind…
“Surprise!” twenty-something voices bellowed.
Calder froze as the shock sank in. His hand tightened on the shiny brass knob, the tinkling sound of his keys drowned out by the crowd.
Calder said nothing in the lengthening silence, stepping backward when Mike leaped over the couch.
“Surprise, Lumberjack!” Mike’s voice dropped to an agitated whisper. “Surprise, dammit, and look happy about it!”
Calder heaved a smile to his face and tossed an awkward laugh into the quiet room. Under his breath, he answered, “You know I hate surprises, Mike.” To the room, he said, “Wow! Can’t believe this! I had no idea!”
Calder’s eyes widened, and the group of partygoers absorbed him into the middle of the room.
Four hours later, empty paper plates and cups covered the room. Two guests remained. Mike closed the door behind other departing guests, smiling at the two still-seated ladies. Calder had at least an hour’s worth of clean up before he could crash. He checked his watch. One a.m.
He glan
ced toward the two on the couch. Calder knew neither, but their lingering presence on his cheap furniture bothered him.
Mike winked at the two then turned to Calder. “Well, Cal, I’m off. I hope you had a good party, and you better have a great night. Happy birthday.”
Calder frowned. “Where you going, Mike?”
Mike glared. “Home.”
Calder raised his eyebrows, questioning, nodding his head toward the women.
Mike laughed. “Yep.” He flashed a thumbs up. “Happy birthday. Enjoy.”
Calder studied the ladies now donning suggestive smiles and come-hither looks. He followed Mike through the front door and into the hall. “What do you expect me to do?”
Mike laughed. “Geez, Cal, do I need to draw a map?”
“Mike. You better take them home.” Calder pressed his lips together, biting back more angry words. He didn’t hop in and out of beds like Mike.
Calder peered through the crack. Inside, the ladies glanced from between the two men and then scowled at one another.
Mike groaned from behind him. “You’re kidding me.”
Calder spun around. “No, I don’t do it like that. You know that. I can’t. You’ve lost your mind.”
“I’ve never really seen you with a woman.”
“That’s not true,” Calder argued.
“It’s been a long time, Cal. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just tonight. I met them on the cruise with my parents. They’re…”
Calder crossed his arms and waited while Mike searched for the word.
Mike went on. “They’re… open… to things. It’s your freaking birthday.”
“No, get them out of here. I can’t do that. Even if I wanted to. I won’t treat them like that.”
Mike stepped closer and shoved his finger into Calder’s chest. “You. Are. A. Fool. You know that?”
“Nevertheless,” Calder said.
Mike stomped back into the room. “Well, ladies, looks like you’ll be coming home with me tonight.” They giggled and chattered to one another. “Cal has other plans.” He glared.
Calder thanked the ladies for their time and wished them a good evening.
Mike escorted the ladies out of the apartment building.
Once the trio had gone, Calder leaned over the railing of his tiny balcony. Birds flew under the full moon and over the sea, and he missed what he didn’t have.
That night was the first vision of Gaire inside his bedroom...
Calder grinned. I am insane.
After he finished his beer, he crawled into bed. He left the sliding door open, and he wished absently for a television to push thoughts of Gaire from his mind. Avoiding his side and any pressure on the bandage and the aching skin beneath, he switched off the bedside light to stare into the dark. There had to be a way to find her.
He could file a missing person report. Call the cops and tell them… What exactly?
Hours passed, but he didn’t sleep deeply. He stirred from dozing and rolled to his back, sensing rather than hearing someone in the room. The scent had returned, soft in the air.
“Gaire?”
A laugh lilted from the shadows, followed by a hushed, “Calder.”
He reached. “Come here. You left me earlier.”
She did so without objection. She caressed his forehead, and the smell of her grew heavier. “I had to.”
He lifted his hand, burying it in her hair. The smooth strands slid through his fingers as he bent to kiss her.
Gaire closed the space between them. “Calder. I had to see you again. They’re going to lock me away.”
Calder frowned. “Who would do that to you?”
“Never mind,” she murmured. “Hold me.”
Calder wrapped his arms around Gaire, and her hand slipped behind his head. The feel of her fingers splayed in his hair sent desire curling through him. He could lose himself to her. Like this, she was more real than any other. Like this, he could believe in forever.
When their lips touched, Gaire gasped and pulled away. “Calder, you’re injured.”
“What?”
“Your head. I had not realized…” Her voice trailed away.
Calder’s thoughts stumbled. “What?”
Gaire searched his body, inch by inch, running her hands over every part of him.
He cleared his throat and tried to turn away from her. His body reacted to her ministrations in ways he could scarcely control. “What are you doing?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Examining you, searching for any other injuries you’ve kept from me.”
“Kept form you?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she came to the white bandage taped to his side. “Who did this to you?”
He grinned in the face of her distress, and her scowl deepened. He mumbled, his voice muffled by her paralyzing scent, “I asked someone to do that to me, after I fell… in the bar.”
She fussed with the bandage. “You make no sense. You asked someone to hurt you?”
He reached for her hands, but she moved out his grasp. “No, no, no, Gaire, don’t do that, you don’t understand. You’ll ruin it.”
She ignored Calder’s pleadings. Pain sliced through him as she peeled the dressing away from the broken skin.
He flinched, his breath leaving him in a hiss.
She placed her hands over the wounded skin, gently asking, “What is this marking?”
“I got it to remember you.”
Her eyes widened. “You what?”
“I wanted to have you with me all the time.”
She crouched, eye level with the new tattoo, and blew a cool breath across his skin.
A sharp intake of air was all Calder could manage. The cooling sensation tingled across the broken skin, then condensed to a bright light in his head. A blast of cold wind exploded down over the bed, and Gaire’s hands glowed blue.
Tightness creeped into his chest, and he trembled. “What are you doing?” he gasped.
She lifted her hands. “Healing you.”
As quickly as it had come, the wind and light died.
Calder winced as her fingertips dragged across the tattoo, but no pain followed. Gaire traced the face of the woman on his side. Bright green eyes glowed above the red lips that smiled on his side. Reddish sunshine hair lifted in a watery cloud around the topless mermaid, her fin drawn in blues and greens. Her name was shaped from the sea plants beneath her.
She straightened and brushed her hand across his forehead. “It’s beautiful.”
Again, he expected pain, but he felt none. Inexplicably, she’d healed all his wounds He stroked her cheek, and she pressed her lips to his.
If he had any proof at all Gaire wasn’t entirely human, this was it.
The next morning, Calder woke on the futon.
Gaire had disappeared as she normally did, and the empty bed kept him awake until he abandoned the mattress for the fold-down. Alone in the Spartan apartment, he squinted into the Saturday morning sun shining directly into his eyes. He groped the coffee table, looking for his cell.
Mike had texted his thanks for letting him go with the woman. Twice. He must have had an amazing night out on the town.
Calder sat up, surprised by his limber body and clear mind. He stood, expecting a dizzy spell. None came. Whatever Gaire had done to him banished it all.
He shook his head and let out a low whistle. His girlfriend had magic of some kind or another. How ‘bout that. Her comings and goings made more sense now.
One of these nights, he was going to find a way to get her to stay. When she did… Flashes of pale hands across his skin flooded back to his mind, and he shivered. The nighttime visits weren’t enough. They hadn’t been for a long time.
Calder stepped into the bathroom to study his tattoo in the daylight. The colors were vivid, the skin restored.
He lifted his hand to where the gash should be on his forehead. It didn’t hurt at all. Not even a bruise remained. He stepped back, eyeing himself in the long mirr
or at the end of the bedroom area. No blood, no gash, no wound.
He grinned. His mermaid girlfriend had fricking magic. How cool was that? Thank you, Gaire.
Mike wouldn’t be up for hours. He considered the brunette woman from the bar. In fact, Calder might not see Mike for days. If Mike got wrapped up in a women, he forgot Calder existed.
Maybe he could get some work done. He needed to grab food then spend the day in his workshop while he mulled on to find a mermaid in San Francisco. He had a show coming up.
Calder strolled down the street, enjoying the temperate morning. Birds sang, and, in his joyful mood, he noticed all sorts of happy things. He slipped into the deli, ordered a Rueben, two pickles, and freshly home-made salt & vinegar potato chips. The mom always gave him extra when the pop wasn’t around. He strolled out with enough for two meals. The air rang with the hearty laugh from the ample deli woman following his semi-risqué humor.
Moisture from a heavy dew clung to the padlock on the art studio door. Whistling a peppy tune, he slid the key into the lock. The sliding metal door creaked to the right. Once inside, he pulled the door closed behind him. Dozens of tiny prickles ran up the back of Calder’s neck. His trilling melody dwindled to nothing. The painting of the woman leaned against the wall rather than where he’d left it.
The smile on the woman’s face had changed, and waves of apprehension pricked across Calder’s skin. His pulse quickened. Every sensation intensified. He stood still as a statue, trying to identify the source of his unease. He cautiously followed the interior perimeter of the building, searching for some clue.
Finding nothing disturbed, he turned to his canvas. On his easel, leaned against his current painting-in-progress, rested a bright red, rectangular bottle. Inside the glass, a small envelope waited. Calder had been scratched across the front, emblazoned in still-wet-looking black ink. He carefully lifted the delicate decanter, peering in. When he inhaled, coconuts, jasmine, and saltwater filled his mind…
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