Sirens and Scales

by Kellie McAllen

  For the final finishing touch, Abraxia covered me in lacy, pearl-colored henna, so that I almost did look like a flowery, scaled being, and added some kind of snowflake diamond dust to my lashes.

  And when she was done, the lavender aurora had deepened to a rich purple, signifying the ball was about to commence.

  “Wait here while I fancy up, and we’ll go together,” Abraxia offered. I wasn’t about to pass up an escort to the daunting foreign event, so I sat tight and twiddled my ringed thumbs.

  When Abraxia emerged, she had indeed bedazzled her ruby tail into an incredibly flashy, elongated plume that I couldn’t help but envy, all red, orange, and gold hues that billowed in metallic luster and made it look like a pillar of actual flame.

  She was a creative genius.

  “How do you resist swimming around like that all the time?” I wanted to know, gaping.

  “Trust me, it gets cumbersome. You try dragging that train around outside of the ball and see how long you last before stripping naked and shredding it into vengeful bits. I took the liberty of already dividing it into tatters, to give you a head-start.”

  She was probably right. I was slow enough without having to lug extra miles of tangled fabric around, which was the same reason I’d shed my regular clothing so quickly when first immersed in the water, too.

  We crossed the avenue and cut around the palace down the towering, Moroccan blue-tile alleyways, and suddenly I heard music drifting out from around the bend. Abraxia angled up as we rounded the dome, climbing the liquid altitude toward the portal of an open window at the top of the dome.

  Of course, you made your entrance to the Atlantean ball fifty feet off the ground, soaring in like a magnificent bird.

  I didn’t realize my escort hadn’t followed me in until I caught wind of the palpable hush that fell over the guests already in attendance, and found a cavern full of exotic eyes staring at me like a lost minnow who’d found her way into the shark pen. Levitating there above the ballroom, I glanced over my shoulder, finding Abraxia still outside of the portal, grinning at my successful debut. Evidently her handiwork had had the desired effect, doubling my status as the elephant in the tank.

  But at least I was the well-dressed elephant in the room, now, and had a costume to hide behind while they all dissected me with their eyes.

  I waited anxiously for her to join me, but she gave a little shooing motion with her hand to coax me into the heart of the party.

  Into the lion’s den.

  What did she expect me to do, waltz right in and mingle with the horde of gaping mer-divas? Um, no thanks. Maybe I’d just find a perch among the burnished brass rafters.

  But then I saw him. Draped in a crazy chandelier throne that hung near the far wall, lower than the central contraption that twined in the heart of the dome. Codexious, fin bejeweled with flashy chains and gems and elongated with silver billows and plumes like any of the females’. His molten gaze cut through the water, drinking me in. And while the others might stare for scandalized or discriminatory reasons, I’d spent enough time with Coda to know he must be admiring Abraxia’s handiwork.

  In order to distract myself from his rapt attention, I took a moment to survey the ballroom itself, which was another lavish wonder to add to my map of Atlantis. Aside from the assortment of ornate chandeliers clustered throughout the upper elevation, there were the huge swan-like gargoyles bowing over the chamber from a ledge near the ceiling, the massive golden pillars that ringed the gorgeous, geode marble floor, its ultra-glossy surface reflecting the light of glowing jellyfish lampposts and conch-shell torches spaced around the walls. What looked like a glacial ice sculpture of a life-sized shipwreck created a stunning centerpiece for the festivities below, chunks of that pixie-dust lava rock scattered around for good measure.

  Waterdrakes zipped about, snatching colorful Jell-O-like bubbles and drops out of the water, which seemed to be dispensed from a lava-lamp-like spout that served as the figurehead of the glacier ship.

  It was magical. Pretty much the Atlantean circus all over again.

  And yet none of it could deter my gaze from the regent of Atlantis. He was radiant, a ravishing source of pheromones that pleased all my underwater senses. I might go as far as to say it enlightened me as to the presence of a sixth sense, so unaccustomed was I to the smitten feelings tingling throughout my limbs.

  It was like I was hooked up to a champagne IV, and it was delightful.

  Seeing I was hopelessly stayed to that spot like a deer in the headlights, Abraxia had mercy on me and joined me after all.

  “If you want to blend in, you have to act like you belong,” she murmured teasingly in my ear, “Not linger in the spotlight where each new guest is announced. You’re holding up the line.”

  Horrified, I threw a glance back through the portal, but either Abraxia was speaking figuratively or only referring to herself, because the water was empty outside the entrance.

  “Oh look, there’s Roxo!” Abraxia brought me back around as quickly as she had distracted me.

  Roxo–short for Turoxo, I surmised. Her alleged fiancé swam toward us from a small group loitering between pillars, a forest-green-finned, dark-skinned merman with a mohawk of jet-black hair and emerald eyes. He reminded me of a picture I’d admired once of a young Apache tribesman, when studying the Native Americans of Arizona.

  Abraxia and Roxo twined together in a swirling dance-like motion and kissed as Roxo reached us, and then, only half unwinding, she turned to introduce me.

  “Roxo, this is the amphibian, and my newest friend and customer, Sayler. Sayler, this is my beloved Roxo.”

  The merman nodded. “It is a pleasure. I’d heard the whispers of an amphibian in our midst, and must admit I didn’t know quite what to expect. But you do not look like a fish out of water in any regard. Atlantis becomes you.”

  “Abraxia working her magic, I’m sure,” I gave credit where credit was due, knowing this elaborate get-up distracted from exactly the fish out of water that I really was, among this lot.

  “No doubt it played a part,” Roxo allowed besottedly, and they gazed adoringly into each other’s eyes.

  So mermaids were just as mushy and sappy as humans. Perhaps ‘soppy’ would be the better word.

  Ice broken, I allowed myself to follow my new acquaintances into the ball. There was less staring from the crowd going on–though I still caught glances–and I was able to relax maybe one or two muscles in my little finger.

  Fortunately Abraxia and her mate did not seem much interested in the clique that was ‘all the fair mermaidens vying for the regent’s attention’, and so we mingled with the less catty merfolk haunting the outskirts of the ballroom, the ones who were already ‘taken’ or male or directly related to the regent himself, which was a number of them.

  It wasn’t too long before Codexious dived from his chandelier perch and coasted across the heights of the ballroom, and I watched in fascination as the horde of females churned below, the closest ones rising to dance as close as they could to their prize. Some reached out to brush the trailing bits of his tail with their fingertips and one bold seductress mirrored his body from below, engaging in a rather suggestive form of synchronized swimming, her torso worming like a belly-dancer’s and her pelvis thrusting in tandem with his.

  They were shameless in their pursuit.

  Or mermaids were a promiscuous bunch regardless, and this–and the mating dance I’d witnessed the first time I watched Coda pass through the harem-rioting streets–was just regular courtship.

  After that I couldn’t un-see the provocative undulations of Coda’s torso every time I watched him swimming, and my pulse hammered.

  The music was an offbeat mix of classical and reggae, and soon Coda was pairing off with different partners and engaging in illustrious, flowing dances that swirled around the main chandelier. It was beautiful, like art–painting with their fins.

  I was interested to see how willingly Codexious participated in al
l the mating dance antics, given his indifference when he was just swimming about or his obvious distaste when discussing the mermaids’ love-struck obsession. I would never know he was so unenthused by his prospects, watching him dance, but perhaps it was rude not to engage. Or, he was a bit of a lady’s man and there was a part of him that enjoyed the chase, even though he did not expressly want to marry any of the candidates. He couldn’t deny they were beautiful, beguiling temptresses, just like I couldn’t. Anyone could see it, plain as day. Curvaceous, sinuous bodies; long, flowing hair; glittery, glamorous scales and enhancements…

  I had to hand it to him for not marrying any one of them on the spot. Any lesser man would take one look at the first candidate, stammer a flustered, whole-hearted ‘yes’ without even looking at the rest, and trip all over himself to get her to her coronation and back to his cave.

  He really did care about whose hands the ocean would be entrusted to, really did understand the importance of his duty. A deeper pang of admiration throbbed in my core, seeing that small proof of the regent’s integrity.

  Distracted by the winsome regent, I drifted away from Abraxia’s group, and tuned in suddenly to the feminine murmurs pattering on the opposite side of the pillar I haunted.

  “Did you see how closely we twined? Wait ’till you see him that close-up. His eyes are gorgeous.”

  “Everyone’s seen his eyes, Alistairia. I touched the scar on his chest. They say he got it wrestling a beast-shark in the Deep.”

  The first girl groaned. “I would have loved to see that. Can you imagine? How savage and glorious he must have looked, tearing the beasts of the Deep fin-from-fin.”

  “If you are so lucky that he ends up choosing you, you must see about encouraging him to take a harem, and getting me into that circle. I’m so inking in love.”

  Well, it wasn’t hard to guess who these two were talking about, though I was a little curious as to that bit about wrestling beasts in the Deep. What did they mean by that? Rumors because of what his father had died doing, perhaps? Simply a heroic way to explain his scars?

  And–were harems common in the mer-world? Aside from narrowing down one candidate that was suitable as his first wife and queen, would Coda be eager to tack on casual extras?

  I frowned at the possibility. Maybe there was more to the lady’s-man thing. He may not be impressed with his candidates as queenly figures or soul mates, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy adding lovely ladies to his repertoire for other reasons.

  I wasn’t sure which bothered me more–the comment about the harem or the possibility of conquests in the Deep explaining his scars. But for some reason it was the latter that held my attention as the gossiping mermaids wandered off for refreshments, and I was left to speculate about his gnarly silver defects on my own. I tried to think of something else that might result in such damage, but sharks seemed the most likely scenario, and after the mermaids’ comments I couldn’t get the idea of some giant ‘beast shark’ out of my head.

  Nor could I stop wondering how smooth those scars would be to the touch.

  Suddenly I realized I’d been absently treading water like an antisocial loner for a good five minutes, and I shook myself from the visions and fantasies and turned to rejoin Abraxia’s group.

  As I rounded the pillar, I came face-to-face–or rather face-to-chest–with a tall, gaudy merman.

  “Oh–excuse me–” I started, and then my gaze came up and locked with the molten eyes of the scarred regent himself. “Coda,” I greeted, sounding pinched.

  “Lady Stargazer.” His gaze slid like mercury down my legs as he voiced the term, taking in the flourishes of pearl henna and other embellishments that graced my form. “As usual, Abraxia does not disappoint. Quite a transformation.”

  “Yes,” I breathed, a little too gushingly. Somewhere between wanting to return the compliment, wanting to thank him for the gift of seeing me properly gowned for the event, and wanting to be anywhere other than confronted by the man I’d just envisioned in a provocative manner, I balked and said nothing else, like a lame lamey-pants. But who could blame me? I’d been shamelessly dwelling on a specific aspect of his body, and what it would feel like to touch it, for an absent-minded blur of minutes.

  “Enjoying yourself, I hope?” Codexious inquired.

  “Oh, yes. It’s magnificent.” You’re magnificent.

  “Well, I saw you over here, all alone, and I thought–perhaps that lonesome wallflower would care to dance, seeing as you aim to experience our culture.”

  “Oh, well I…don’t even know how to dance back in my world, much less how to flourish about like you do here. I lack the…flippers to keep up.”

  He heard me out, patient and unassuming, but in the end was having none of it. “I don’t know what these flippers are that you speak of, but you need nothing to keep up. You must only ride my current.”

  Oh. Was it that easy? He provided the current, and I just…allowed myself to be whisked about like-so? The way he said it, he made it sound like I’d be some malleable puppet on an invisible string, and he the deft puppet master, but all I could see when imagining how it would play out was my hair in my face and my limbs flailing as I was jerked to and fro like a rag doll.

  Needless to say I had my doubts. But I couldn’t say no to the regent of Atlantis. At least, I didn’t suppose it was custom to, or particularly advantageous to do so.

  “Very well, then. It would seem I have no excuse.”

  “None whatsoever, I’m afraid. Except refusing simply because you do not wish to dance with me. That, I would allow. But I do hope that is not the case.”

  How very gentlemanly of him. Though it could have been his ulterior motive all along, I couldn’t help but warm up to him even more. There was little that was more attractive than a man allowing a woman her choice, by default.

  “I will not refuse,” I informed him of my decision, and a warm smile curved his lips, an aqua crescent-moon shimmer in the moody ballroom light.

  Turning, he offered a bent arm, and as I wrapped my fingers around his hard, roping bicep, he whisked me away from the sidelines and up to the chandelier dance ‘floor’.

  When we glided to a stop at some invisible coordinates that served as the proper starting point, Codexious skidded to a halt in such a way that I spun away from his side, and suddenly I was facing him, perfectly poised. If it was any indication of how the rest of the dance would go, I didn’t have much to worry about.

  True to Coda’s word, I didn’t have to move a muscle. When the song began he swirled past me, the current twisting me in his wake. He proved a masterful puppeteer indeed as, whirling and twirling, his motions caught me up in a flux of intricate synchrony. I was his fluid shadow, his just-off-beat echo. Now and then he ushered my movements with the brushing curve of his tail, propelled me gently with his fingers briefly haloing my waist.

  Because of my half-breed limitations, I was the partner that he touched. Based on the bragging right of one ‘Alistairia behind the pillar’, she had claimed the prize of touching him, but none had received the opposite honor.

  The opposite, more meaningful honor.

  Of course, I was only receiving it because of said handicap, but I felt the jealousy oozing through the water from the onlookers, nevertheless. The seething intent of two hundred mermaids drilled into me, and for a moment I thought the water around me might boil.

  Or was that from my own pulse, my body running feverishly hot? I couldn’t deny Coda had an effect on me, and within the intimate confines of the dance and surrendering to his direction, I was dizzy and giddy and enchanted.

  I couldn’t say how long it was that we danced and spun and twirled around that glittering chandelier–in one sense it felt like all night, but when it was over it ended entirely too soon. Whatever the equivalent to ‘breathless’ was underwater, that’s how I was left, and Coda stared at me from under his iridescent lashes and quirked that warm half-smile. I was thankful I wasn’t standing on solid gr
ound, because I was pretty sure I had gone weak at the knees. Thank goodness for underwater weightlessness. My knees could turn to jelly, and no one would know it.

  My long, multi-divided train billowed out behind and all around me, like a giant, angelic web, and I thought I had never felt so ethereal in all my life, floating there like a glorious angel.

  I might have stared starstruck at Coda all night if not for a new song blaring to life and a parade of manta rays filing into the ballroom, platters of Atlantean delicacies strapped to their backs. With a little effort I shook myself from the spell that had settled around me, and with more effort the onlookers did the same. I realized I’d just made history: the two-legged surface dweller who danced among the mermaids. I couldn’t blame anyone for staring, for not knowing what to make of me.

  I was grateful the manta ray buffet chose then to enter, what proved to be a string of exotic desserts distracting the guests from the exhibition that had placed me in the spotlight.

  I blinked my snow-studded lashes, breaking the electric link between my gaze and Coda’s. I wished I had some snow, to cool my temperature. I would slip away and powder my face with it most vigorously as my patented new way of ‘freshening up’.

  The regent and I drifted apart as the ballroom flooded with rays and the accompanying sugar craze, and then I lost him completely to the feeding frenzy.

  I tried a dessert–a frothy meringue, foam-filled éclair of sorts–and then I decided to rest my overstimulated nerves and heartstrings and escape the festivities, slipping out through the dome portal to cool my fever in the quiet waters without.

  It was sappy–soppy–but I felt like Cinderella fleeing the ball before the spell could unravel, leaving a glass slipper behind, hoping in some far-fetched fairytale version of reality that the prince would come after me.

  It was like I’d already feared; I was hopelessly caught up in the fantasy down here, everything ripe with magic and allure, and it was skewing my hopes and dreams and expectations.

  If I left a glass slipper, he would know exactly who it belonged to, because I was the only fair maiden with inking feet, and I really was walking on glass if I thought it was okay to tread so closely to the troubled regent and his queen-seeking enterprises.