Sirens and Scales

by Kellie McAllen

  “How dare you?” she hissed.

  He set his jaw.

  “That’s a fable you tell yourself to justify throwing away the mothers you entrapped and fooled.”

  “I do not—”

  “Your people do. And I’m dumped, alone, all over again. So.” She rose to her feet and paced the small terracotta plot. Grasses shook harshly in the breeze as dark-bottomed clouds tumbled across the formerly spotless blue sky. “There’s no substance in this dream.”

  He crossed his arms. “You once wished to live together.”

  “You once promised to protect me.”

  His eyes flashed, and he tightened his grip on his elbows.

  She didn’t want to hurt him. That wasn’t her desire.

  “I think we’re both aware of reality,” she said. “Your entire race is trying to force us apart.”

  “Not all—”

  “Don’t bring wishful thinking into this.” She held up her hand. “This is cruel. Dangling Zain in front of me knowing he’s going to be ripped away.”

  “No.” Elan crossed the distance between them and tugged her into his arms. Again. “This will not happen.”

  “They’ll come. Your city’s thugs. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “There is much you can do.” He stroked her hair, cupped her cheek. Sincerity burned bright in his eyes. “You have a power, Zara. You can fight back.”

  “It’s the same as before.”

  “It is different,” he insisted. “We are safe, Zara. Warriors will not come onto the land.”

  …they wouldn’t come onto the land?

  Of course they wouldn’t! Coming onto land was a violation of their ancient covenant the same way exposing their existence was a violation. Warriors only visited land once — to collect their sacred brides.

  As long as she kept Zain on the land, he was safe. She was safe. They were all safe.

  “There is more.” Elan stroked her cheek. “Do you remember my former kinsman, Kadir, speaking of the ancient mermaid queens? They died out after the great catastrophe, which is why mermen must approach humans to continue our race. We have discovered brides who remain underwater, as you wished to, can develop an unusual power.”

  Zara ignored him.

  In her dreams, she’d run away with Zain a thousand times. Stolen into Dragao Azul, grabbed Zain, and run. Elan had done the difficult part. Now it was up to her to finish the escape.

  He needed an emergency passport. Once they flew home to California, they could move to a landlocked state, change names and identities, and disappear.

  This was her opportunity.

  She reached into her pocket to check the time and — oh. No cell phone. Her brain really had traveled back to the past. Her cell contract had elapsed while she’d been undersea, and after returning, she’d been too numb to do more than exist.

  She’d borrow Milly’s. Call the American Embassy, find out if Zain could skip Portuguese Border and Immigration because he was her son, book flights.

  As long as he remained near the beach — and everywhere on the Azores was less than a mile from a long stretch of volcanic sand — he’d be at risk.

  Elan gripped her shoulders. “Zara? Are you listening? You drank the elixir and transformed.”

  “Barely.” Today was a weekday so the embassies should have later hours. “I could breathe and see and speak underwater.”

  “You can also make fins.”

  She snapped back to him. “That never happened.”

  “You must try.” He stroked her cheek with his wide, warm thumb. “Fins are the first step in claiming your power. We will go into the ocean to practice.”

  That was crazy talk. She shook her head.

  “Believe.” Elan’s gaze burned into her. “Your destiny is not merely to be a sacred bride. To protect our family, you must embrace your true power. You must become a mermaid queen.”

  5

  Mermaid queen.

  It sounded like another fairy tale. The kind Milly made up when they were kids. Growing up without TV, they’d spent hours imagining what other kids were doing, and created stories to pretend they didn’t miss any entertainment.

  “You have the power to shatter the sharpest dagger and melt the longest trident,” he promised. “No warrior will stand against you.”

  And also, it sounded like more wishful thinking. Which was the most dangerous type of lie.

  She shoved Elan back, tearing free of his arms. “You’re lying.”

  “I do not lie. I have seen this power with my own eyes.”

  “You saw ordinary women get superpowers? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers.

  “Make your fins and embrace your passions. Power will emerge in a shining light.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He dropped silent.

  So, then, no. He hadn’t really seen ordinary women get supernatural powers in a snap.

  She was not special. She did not get magical powers just from wishing it. That did not happen in the real world. Thinking otherwise was a waste of everyone’s time. And believing in wishes risked more than her heart. Elan’s city was full of deadly warriors. Underestimating them could cost lives.

  Milly’s car engine growled around the front of the house.

  He started toward her again. “Zara, believe—”

  “No.” She put both hands over her ears to keep his slippery-sweet wishes out.

  “Come into the ocean. You will feel the truth in the water.”

  “Absolutely no.”

  His aquamarine-flecked gaze burned. “I will convince you.”

  “You’re dreaming. Stay here.” Zara stormed away, into the living room.

  Milly draped the bags over the dining table chairs. “Whew! Here are the clothes. I think I saw everything out back. I mean, everyone.”

  “Sorry. We had an accident right after you left.” Zara unpacked the box of diapers and inspected the shirts for Elan.

  Milly hooked a mammoth bunch of sweet island bananas in the usual spot beside the cupboards and put away her cereal. Then, she folded the bag. So, she’d only bought bananas?

  Zara paused. “Is that dinner?”

  “Crazy story.” Milly filled their hot water kettle and clicked it to boil. “I was standing in the middle of the grocery store aisle, feeling completely lost, and then I ran into Vaw Vaw! She’s cooking for us tonight.”

  Vaw Vaw was the kindly Portuguese grandmother they’d never had. She’d lived next door to their grandfather’s old mansion and had taken care of the girls like her own. Aside from their aunt, Vaw Vaw was the next closest thing to family they had.

  “Milly…” Zara bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was spend a family dinner together with Elan. “You couldn’t refuse?”

  “Well, actually, I tried.” Her smile faded. The kettle hadn’t started, even though the light had turned on, and she smacked it with her open palm until it made a second, more decisive, click and began to boil. “Grateful as I am for her cooking, I knew you probably wanted to spend the first night together alone.”

  Zara stopped. “Alone?”

  Milly looked up at the sharp tone. “You don’t?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Your missing husband and baby emerge from the sea and you don’t want to spend time with them as a family?”

  Oh, she had it all wrong. “Zain’s terrified of me and I barely recognize Elan.”

  “I thought you said he was your soul mate.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Zara gripped the clothing bag tight enough to crumple it. “I’ve grown up since then and I have no interest in him whatsoever.”

  “Zara?” Elan stopped in the doorway, interrupting them. “Ah.”

  His hard physique was deliciously outlined against the now sunny skies. Including the member she’d admired.

  In the past, she used to relish his escalating cries as her perfect warrior lost control and became savage with desire. When he couldn
’t stand it anymore, he would pull her mouth to his and crush her in his kiss.

  Zara squeezed her thighs together. She had no interest.

  Milly gasped at his full frontal nudity and turned her back. “Excuse me. Sorry. I’ll grab my book bag from the car.” She darted out the back door.

  Right. That conversation about her sister’s misunderstanding was not over.

  Elan tilted his head. True curiosity challenged his noble features.

  Zara brought him the clothing bag. “Put these on.”

  “Is your sister alright?”

  “Yes.” At his continued concern, she crossed her arms. “Nudity in front of other humans is disrespectful.”

  His expression changed to regret. He was always so considerate. Like a knight. She’d fallen fast and hard despite her best intentions.

  And that was not happening again.

  He took the clothes bag. “I will take more care in future.”

  “Good.”

  “Please convey a proper apology.”

  “Sure.” They had talked about a million things under the water but a few basics had slipped through the cracks. Zara grabbed the sailor suit she’d set out and pushed past him. “I’ll put on Zain’s diaper.”

  The baby was on his belly kicking air. Worry twinged in her guts.

  She knelt at his side with the thin diaper.

  Zain looked up and studied her with his wide, dark eyes.

  “Hello.” Her voice cracked.

  His gaze on her remained steady, dark brown flecked with aquamarine. Their irises had combined colors into Zain’s, just like their names were echoed in his. Combining names had been Elan’s idea. Zain was a mer name, but it also sounded like “Zane,” and could sound normal to humans, too.

  She cleared her throat. “Don’t be alarmed.”

  He wiggled uncertainly.

  She sucked in a deep breath. The problem was her. Her soul light. Meaning, her nerves, her baggage, her issues. She was tied in knots of shame and sadness and memories, and she had to move past it for both their sakes.

  “I’ll be fast,” she promised, more to herself than to him.

  Before she could psych herself out, she grabbed his waist, sheltered his head, and flipped him onto his back.

  He was smaller and slighter than other one-year-old babies, and he wiggled and whimpered his protests on the warm tile.

  His legs felt smooth yet rubbery, skin thick from scales. He had ordinary knees, the usual male baby equipment, an innie belly button, a chubby belly, and skinny arms. Skin above his rubbery toe-foot-ankle scales was ordinary softness like any human baby.

  Her baby.

  Zara’s heart thumped hard.

  Zain’s expression turned frowny.

  She took a deep breath and let it out. Calm.

  Zain calmed as well. It worked! He continued to stare at her.

  A lump formed in her throat. She was touching her son. Her son.

  He began to frown again, his little forehead wrinkling, and she quickly strapped on the diaper as he arched his back and rolled over onto his front again.

  Whew. He was diapered.

  He made the swimming gestures, scooping air uselessly, unbothered by the diaper.

  Zara pulled the blue-and-white sailor onesie over his big head, fluffing up his dark brown hair. He mewled. She pushed through, tugged his arms through the holes, and snapped it under the diaper butt.

  Diapered and dressed. Ready for Vaw Vaw. Zara let out a huge sigh.

  On her other side, Elan pulled on a white T-shirt with another faded dive shop logo and long navy-colored athletic shorts. “You did that with skill.”

  She snorted. “Shocking, right?”

  “No. You are his mother, so some things come naturally.”

  Her heart squeezed. She wanted it to be true. “That’s the maternal instinct I was talking about.”

  “Of course.”

  Elan studied her as intently as Zain had. Seeing through her. Probably sensing her “soul light” or whatever mermen saw in people. Waiting, wanting things from her she couldn’t give.

  Just like before.

  “We are meant to be a family,” he said quietly.

  His intoxicating nearness was dangerous, but his words — those were always the most dangerous of all.

  She stood. “We’ll talk after dinner.”

  “You cannot avoid this.”

  Yes, she could.

  Zara angled away from him. “My ex-neighbor’s cooking.”

  He looked like he had much more to say but he wisely fell silent and gathered up Zain. The car ride across the small island was short. Vaw Vaw’s two-story gray house, made from island stone, had cheery bright red shutters and doors. Under the purple flowering vine-trailed veranda, older adults chatted, sharing drinks and smokes, at the casual blue-washed tables and wooden chairs. A small retaining wall garden overflowed with tomato bushes and fragrant herbs.

  A passel of children raced across the green lawn toward Milly’s car as they got out. They clustered around Milly, asking for the treats — loaves of American-style banana bread — she carried under one arm.

  Elan positioned himself in front of Zara, a powerful shield, and asked quietly over his shoulder. “Is this safe?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “This is not your family?”

  Ah. “These ones are safe.”

  Elan cautiously moved forward, his powerful form filling the consignment store T-shirt and shorts. Zain straightened, alert, in Elan’s arms.

  Elan had always been protective, but his determination to face danger first was more pronounced. In a foreign environment, above the surface, he prioritized her in a way no man ever had.

  She’d liked it before. She liked it now. Too much.

  Shaking off her feelings, Zara deliberately walked in front of Elan and greeted the extended uncles, aunts, brothers, and nephews.

  He tensed behind her.

  Oh, because she was clasping hands, or “touching,” people other than “her husband.”

  She tried to speak to him out of the side of her mouth. “It’s okay to touch other people on the surface.”

  He replied through clenched teeth. “I know.”

  But he made no move to return their tentative greetings.

  Feeling his tension, Vaw Vaw’s relatives fell silent.

  She understood.

  They were normally very friendly, but had never seen a merman before, and didn’t want to get the first all-important greeting wrong. How should she explain that she was the one causing his tension?

  “Relax,” she ordered him.

  His aquamarine eyes fell into deeper stress lines. In his culture, a mer could only touch his own bride. Any male that accidentally touched another’s bride, even to save her life, risked losing limbs or exile. Watching Zara touch these men clearly twisted his feelings, and he refused to touch any females himself. He would relax this taboo the same time Zara happily dove into the ocean, which was currently looking to be never.

  Vaw Vaw burst from inside the house, diminutive arms wide and white smile wider. “Zara! And your husband and baby.”

  Her accent was only lightly tinged; her English was excellent from working her teen and early adult years at the American base on Terceira. Despite her age, her dark hair was only threaded with gray and thick old-lady glasses rested on her stub nose, held on by a pink beaded lanyard.

  Behind Zara, Elan held his breath and braced.

  Vaw Vaw smooshed Zara against Elan, hugging them at the same time. For being such a small woman, she packed a powerful hug. “Welcome! Welcome to my home, my new friends.”

  Elan trembled. The urge to explode was barely held back by his will.

  Zara worked one hand free and rubbed Elan’s bicep. They were safe. He was fine. It was okay.

  By degrees, the trembles stopped. He finally did as she asked and relaxed.

  A wave of protectiveness swept across her heart. She felt broken, but Elan was th
e one who couldn’t handle a gentle grandmother’s hug. He had been broken from long ago. His culture had broken him.

  He needed to be fixed.

  Vaw Vaw pulled back. Wrinkles swallowed her face and arthritis bent her knuckles, but her grip was still firm and her kindness unparalleled. She craned her neck over Zara to see Zain. “This is your baby!”

  Elan held Zain tighter.

  “Yes.” Zara tugged on Elan’s elbow to lower Zain to Vaw Vaw’s level. “Here he is.”

  Elan obeyed reluctantly. Vaw Vaw moved in close. Elan stiffened to granite.

  Zara rested one hand on his bicep and stroked his shoulders. “You can hold him if you want.”

  Elan made a noise of protest.

  Zara made a calming, shushing noise. Against his will, it seemed, Elan relaxed.

  “Of course I want.” Vaw Vaw cooed and poked Zain with a little finger. “Look at you, beautiful young man. What a beautiful young man. What a baby.”

  Zain began to smile.

  Elan’s jaw dropped.

  But it wasn’t so miraculous. Not really. Vaw Vaw had saved Zara as a tiny child. They weren’t related, but Vaw Vaw had always welcomed Zara and Milly into her home, and after they’d returned as adults, she’d stopped by their house often with a tureen of stew or freshly baked bread. Of course, with the instincts of children and animals, Zain could tell Vaw Vaw was safe.

  Vaw Vaw laughed to see his smile and held out her arms to lift him. “May I? Excuse me, Papa, may I hold your beautiful young man?”

  Elan hesitated.

  Zara rested her hand more firmly around his bicep. “It really is okay.”

  He looked at her.

  “I trust her more than I trust myself.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Have more faith.”

  Yes, she knew that she had to control her soul light.

  Zara nudged him impatiently. “Go ahead.”

  With her endorsement, Elan released Zain. Vaw Vaw swung the baby to her chest, and he made a pleased gurgling noise.

  Elan tensed to take back their son at an instant’s notice. But there was no distress.

  As a grandmother of thirty and growing, Vaw Vaw was a master at bouncing Zain, touching his fins, complimenting his handsomeness, and speaking in the calm sing-song of unconditional love. His smile only grew wider and happier the longer he was in her arms.