by Erin Hayes
The front door was unlocked. Of course, it was. He knew damn well to expect her visit. Tara marched through the dimly lit parlor and opened Azrael’s door without knocking.
Azrael sat behind his desk, calmly laid down the single sheet of paper in his hand, and motioned for her to enter. “Thanks for coming,” he began in his formal conversational tone.
“Stuff it,” she replied ungraciously, folding her arms and leaning against the door frame. “I should be halfway to Atlanta by now instead of in this same old place. What do you want?”
Azrael removed his sunglasses. Humor lit his odd, pink eyes, and the corners of his thin mouth lifted. “Things didn’t work out the way you’d hoped with your Andrew.”
“How do you know everything that happens around here? Wait.” She held up her hands. “The less I know, the better. I just want to get the hell out of town. Can’t you understand that?”
Shadows flickered in his eyes, and he shoved his sunglasses back on. “After forty years of serving the Reaper? You think this is my idea of the dream life?”
“No,” she said softly. “I don’t imagine it is.”
Azrael nodded and swept back a lock of white hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Didn’t mean to get angry. Especially not tonight.”
“What’s so special about tonight?”
“I have good news and bad news. What would you like first?”
Tara pushed away from the door and settled herself in a seat across the desk. “I could use some good news. Let’s start with that.”
“First, read this.” He held up a piece of paper scribbled in crimson metallic ink.
“What’s the Reaper have to say now? I assume this officially dissolves my curse.”
“It does.” Azrael handed her the paper and she skimmed its contents. All collections have been paid in full and conditions to end the curse have been lifted. Effective immediately. “Looks above board to me.”
“Absolutely.”
Tara lifted her gaze from the contract and leveled him with a cool stare. “So, what’s the problem?”
“Look at the date.”
“Son of a bitch. Has he post-dated it or something?” She found the date in the top left corner and frowned. “This was dated last year. I don’t get it.”
“This time last year, you reaped the soul of an immortal.”
“Right. The man who almost killed Andrew during battle.”
“When you collected his soul, didn’t you notice something different about it?”
She frowned. “It was powerful, and I was really tired later. But I had more important matters on my mind.” Like telling Andrew goodbye.
“Here’s where the good news/bad news comes into play. The good news is that an immortal soul is worth a thousand human souls.”
She scrambled to think through the repercussions. “So that bastard knew a year ago the curse was over, and he didn’t let me know?”
“Yes, but—”
“How dare he mess with people’s lives like this?” she fumed, jumping from her chair and pacing the small room. If only she’d known. She could have been with Andrew this past year, and he need never have known about the curse. They would still be together now.
“Tara. Calm down a moment and listen to me. The Reaper didn’t hide this news from you. I did.”
“You?” She grasped the arm of the chair and sank into it. “But—why would you do this to me?” Understanding dawned. “Hold on. I get it. Why tell me the news when I could continue working for you?”
Hurt tears blinded her focus, and the office blurred. She’d come to think of Azrael as a friend. Big mistake. All he cared about was his own freedom.
“I’m sorry. Truly. It was selfish of me, I admit that. Still, I have some good news yet.”
“Spit it out,” she said gruffly.
“Because you went above and beyond the terms of your curse, the Reaper has bestowed you with an unusual bonus.”
“Oh yeah, and what did you get out of this?” she snapped.
“My contract has been paid in full. It became official yesterday.”
“Peachy great for you,” she said bitterly. “Hope you’re happy, at least.”
“As you should be. About that bonus—”
She frowned. “What’s my consolation prize in all this?”
“Immortality.”
Tara blinked. “As in—live forever?”
“Exactly.”
She couldn’t help it. Bitter tears worked their way down her cheeks, and a sob escaped her throat. Unless Andrew loved her, what good was this immortality? It was yet another curse.
“Can I refuse this offer?”
“Refuse immortality?” Azrael asked incredulously. “This is the answer to your dreams.”
“Not without Andrew. He doesn’t want me in his life. Not an hour ago, he told me to forget him.”
“Of course, he did. He doesn’t want to love another woman who will grow old and die on him. You’ll be the exception.”
She considered the possibility, then allowed hope to flicker in her heart. “You really think that’s why he wouldn’t forgive me for not telling him the truth about the curse?”
“Ask him.”
“I will.” As much as she’d been in a hurry to leave town, now she was consumed with the need to return to Andrew. She dug her keys out of her pocket and rushed to the door, but she paused and turned to look at Azrael one last time. The light shone on his alabaster skin, which appeared more lined and haggard than she’d ever noticed.
“What are you going to do now with your freedom?” she asked.
“Maybe I’ll move to Florida and work on my tan.”
She chuckled at his unexpected flash of humor. “I’m serious.”
“Who knows? Perhaps I’ll start an emu farm or move to the Keys and fish all day, every day.”
“I wish you well,” she said softly. With that, Tara hurried out of the quiet building.
Andrew’s cabin was aglow, a beacon of comfort in the wild darkness. She’d take that as a positive sign.
Tara parked in the driveway and was halfway up the porch steps when a sudden thought halted her walk. What if Andrew didn’t believe that she was immortal? She’d given him precious little reason to trust anything she said.
The door opened, and Andrew’s tall body was framed in dark silhouette. He was bare-chested, and his long, dark hair was loose about his shoulders. “Why are you here?” he said, starting toward her, but stopped abruptly a few feet away. “What the hell—it can’t be!”
“Are you really that surprised to see me?”
Andrew crossed the distance between them and grasped her shoulders beneath his strong hands. “You’ve passed over. How can this be?”
“Passed over?” This wasn’t the reaction she’d envisioned.
“Who did this to you?” he demanded. “Are you hurt?” He guided her to the porch light, and his brown eyes scanned her body.
“I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“You’re immortal. I can’t believe it! Tell me what happened. How did your mortal life end? Is it that damn motorcycle? Always concerned you’d wreck on it one day.”
So much for worrying he’d believe her. “How did you know?”
He ran one hand down the side of her face and tenderly cupped her chin. “We can always sense one another. Hard to explain, but you’ll see. So how did you pass over to this new life?”
“There was no violent end. As it turns out, when I reaped the soul of that immortal that almost killed you last year, the curse was lifted, and I was granted my heart’s desire.”
“Immortality? That can be its own kind of hell. All you love eventually dies and leaves you one day.”
“Is that why you sent me away? Because you didn’t want to love again?”
The light of sudden understanding in his eyes left her breathless. He still loved her. She wasn’t too late. The last year’s work hadn’t been for nothing.
She r
ested her hands on his chest and gave him a tender smile. “You’re stuck with me now. Forever. Unless the prospect of spending eternity with me scares the hell out of you.”
Andrew crushed her against him and held tight. “You just try another disappearing act,” he said with an unsteady laugh. “I’ll never let you go.”
Her teal eyes glowed with happiness and resolve. Well-done, child. Her mother’s voice whispered deep inside her soul. Be happy.
“I’ll never leave you again. Ever,” she promised.
The End
Read more in the Appalachian Magic Series: Book One: Charmed and Dangerous, Book Two: Changeling, and Book Three: Charmed by the Salem Witch.
Book One: https://goo.gl/FsJAgL
Book Two: https://goo.gl/MHW3so
Book Three: https://goo.gl/hkxPCc
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About the Author
Debbie Herbert, A USA Today best-selling author for the Wicked Legends box set, and a 2017 2017 RITA® Finalist for Paranormal Romance in the national contest sponsored by the Romance Writers of America®, writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She is traditionally published through Harlequin, as well as Indie published. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team (Roll Tide!). Debbie enjoys recumbent bicycling and jet skiing with her husband. She has two grown sons and the oldest has autism. Characters with autism frequently land in her works, even when she doesn't plan on it!
Read More from Debbie Herbert
https://www.amazon.com/Debbie-Herbert/e/B00F96OXUI (Where there’s a listing of all her Harlequin Nocturne titles which includes the Dark Seas Series featuring mermaids in a bayou, and the Bayou Magic series featuring Native American lore, werewolves, hoodoo and fairies!) If BookBub is more your jam, follow here: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/debbie-herbert
Or visit her website at http://www.debbieherbert.com “Where love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment.” Connect with her on Facebook too at https://www.facebook.com/Debbie-Herbert-Author-151793451695632.
Ink
A Dark Waters Mermaid Tale
Melanie Karsak
Ink: A Dark Waters Mermaid Tale © 2015 Melanie Karsak
All rights reserved. All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Ink: A Dark Waters Mermaid Tale
A mermaid princess destined to wed a handsome king…
It sounds like a fairy tale, but the reality is far murkier.
Ink, Princess of the Florida Atlantic mers, is slated to wed the ancient enemy of her tribe, the King of the Gulfs. After years of war that led to countless mer deaths, as well as the genocide of aquatic shapeshifters and the freshwater mers of Florida, Ink’s marriage will bring lasting peace.
Or so it seems.
Mere hours before she’s supposed to leave the ocean for her customary year as a drywalker, Ink meets Hal, an alligator shifter who warns her that a storm is brewing. There is malicious intent behind Ink’s marriage—and worse, meeting Hal has also caused a storm to rage in Ink’s heart. Nevertheless, loyal to her tribe, Ink will put aside her feelings and journey to Miami to marry the decadent King Manx.
Ink soon learns that her only hope of surviving the crushing force swelling around her is to tap into a power deep inside—a forbidden power that might destroy them all.
Chapter One
The first bomb exploded with a flash of white oxygen bubbles. A sharp, piercing sound followed. I felt like my skull would burst. Even though the pain threatened to deafen me, I suppressed my scream. Biting my lip, I tasted blood, and my shimmering blue tail curled. I squinted hard, covering my ears with my hands. My whole body shook, and I knew it wasn’t over yet. Five more bombs dropped into the water. The dolphins near the fishing vessel whistled in agony and then became silent.
I rocked in the water, the ripple of shockwaves rolling past me. Every muscle in my body tensed. When the pain softened, I opened my eyes to see the bottom of the commercial fishing vessel gliding through the water, the prop on slow. Bobbing on the waves, the dolphins floated immobilized. Below the dolphins, tuna huddled, ripe for the picking.
Of course, they weren’t all dolphins. Several of the dolphins were, in fact, merdolphins. I scanned the water for my cousin Indigo. King Creon had ordered me to bring her back at once. Something was happening at the grotto. There had been a flurry of preparation, but I didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if the king shared his plans with me. Why would he? I was an annoyance to him, a constant reminder of his deceased brother who’d ruled before—and better than—him, a brother whose death had bought Creon the throne.
“Ink?” Seaton called. “Are you all right?”
I glanced over at him. The gruff old merman stiffened his back, his dark purple tail uncurling. Small clouds of blood trailed from his ears.
I nodded. “You?”
“They are using seal bombs,” he snapped. “Illegally.”
“When did humans ever pay attention to their own laws?” I turned to the others, the small band of scouts who’d come with me. It was times like this that I missed Roald who’d left the ocean for his exile year. He would have had something smart to say to cut the mood. But Roald was not there, and the rest of us were far too serious to make jokes. “Everyone else okay?”
“We’ll be fine,” Achates, a hulking merman with dark hair and a ruby-red tail, assured me. He squeezed his blades and glared angrily at the boat overhead. There was no one we hated more than the fishermen…well, except the oilmen. It was no wonder the mermaids of old hypnotized and drowned humans for fun. Of course, that was before my great-great-grandfather King Tricus outlawed siren song. His daughter, Princess Tigonea, had tried to use siren song against her father in an attempt to usurp power. We mermaids still suffered for her failed regicide.
I scanned the water. The bubbles caused by the blasts faded into halos at the surface. Some of the dolphins and the merdolphins started to recover. We needed to get to them.
The tuna clustered under the dolphins. Atlantic tuna were easy to find if you knew where to look. If you hunted dolphins, you found tuna. The fishermen began dropping their purse-shaped net. It drifted downward like a dark haze.
“Let’s go,” I called, gripping my blades.
We swam quickly toward the pod, careful to stay far enough below the surface to remain unseen. By sonar, we’d just look like another pod of dolphins. Humans knew nothing about the deep. As long as we were cautious, they’d never see us.
As we drew closer, I noticed that some of the older dolphins had been killed. They floated like plastic bottles on the surface, their white bellies facing the sun. Others kicked and tried to recover from the deafening blast, swimming away in confusion. The dolphins’ blood clouded the water, filling my nostrils. This was nothing short of murder.
“Indigo,” I called, careful not to sound too loudly. Hearing me, several of the merdolphins turned and swam our direction. I could see from their awkward movements that many of them were injured. Indigo, whom I finally spotted among the dolphin pod, had shapeshifted into dolphin form. Preoccupied wit
h one of the mother dolphins, she had not heard me.
“Can you get them home?” I asked Achates, referring to the injured mers, several of whom had started to shift back to their natural mermaid or merman form.
“Yes, My Lady,” he said as he and two of the other scouts led the wounded mers away.
Overhead, the boat motored in a wide circle: halfway done. Soon they would close the net, and we’d be trapped inside. We needed to work fast.
I motioned to Seaton, and then we shot through the water. “Indigo,” I called.
She turned and whistled at me in panic. Once we got close, I could see the problem. The mother dolphin had started to calf and wouldn’t be moved.
“Ill-omened,” Seaton grumbled. “Nothing can be done here, Lady Indigo. You have to go. They are dropping the net.”
Indigo shook her head, and then stared at me, making direct eye contact. Against my better judgment, I knew what had to be done.
“We have to cut the net,” I told Seaton.
“Dangerous work,” the merman said and grinned. “Best get to it.”
“In the meantime, try to convince her,” I told Indigo, and then Seaton and I set off. I grabbed the net, feeling the rough, human-made object in my hands. It didn’t matter how many times drywalkers—mers who could shift into human form, mers like me—told me that humans were kind. All I saw was the death and filth and destruction they wrought. They were little more than barbarian apes. Land brought death. Just ask my mother. Who knew where her corpse lay rotting in the dirt? But that death had not been caused by humans. The Gulf tribe had killed my mother. She’d been a casualty of our war. I barely remembered her anymore, just the shadowy memories of her red hair, her dainty drywalker tribal mark, and the way she sang with a low cadence. How unlike her I was with my massive swirling drywalker tribal covering my back. While our marks were different, we were the same lot in life. Now it was my turn to walk on terra firma. My exile year had arrived. That night I would begin my drywalk. I shuddered at the thought and then turned back to my task. It didn’t do me any good to think about it now. Moonrise would be here soon enough.