by Erin Hayes
I stabbed my blade into the net and jerked it. The net resisted. I yanked hard, and soon the metal began to cut. Below me, the massive tuna huddled together. I could taste their fear in the water. Poor beasts. We fed on them too but not in such a barbarous way. With a little luck, I’d have them out of there as well.
As I jerked my knife, I stared at the boat motoring overhead. Seaton was right. Everything about this fishing practice was illegal. The purse-seine fishing method they were using had been outlawed years ago. Disgusting. At least merpeople honored their laws, even when we didn’t like it.
The torn net wagged with the motion of the waves. As I worked, anger welling up in me. If it hadn’t meant having their refuse in my waters, I could just sink their boat and drown them all. It was, after all, instinctual for me to want their death. While our law forbade using siren song, which was nothing more than the tuning of sound resonance, I still felt the ancestral tug in me. I would have loved to purr a sweet song and pull them down into a murky death. I could almost hear the tune in the back of my head, humming from an ancient source. The song of the siren was nearly lost now, its banishment causing it to fade from common use or knowledge. I closed my eyes. With just a few notes, it would all be done.
“Ink?” Seaton called.
I opened my eyes. Careful, Ink. “Good. Almost there.” I glanced back at Indigo. She’d moved the mother dolphin deeper into the water, away from the surface, and had shifted back into mermaid form. Her bluish hair, befitting her name, made a halo around her. She was using merdolphin magic to dazzle the creature, talking in low melodious tones that echoed softly through the water.
Seaton stopped just above me.
“Got it,” I said, then slid my blade upward. The net broke in half, wagging like seaweed in the waves.
Seaton and I swam to Indigo who was guiding the mother dolphin, holding her gently by the flipper. From above, there was a terrible groan, then a screech as the gears on the winch sprang to life. The net wall moved like it was alive, the tentacles of a great sea monster closing in on us.
“We must hurry,” Seaton said.
Moving quickly, we swam through the tear and out of the net, back into the safety of the open ocean.
The gears on the winch lurched. Water pressure pulled the tear, causing the net to rip wide open. The tuna rushed free. I tread for a moment, stopping to watch the sight as Indigo guided the mother dolphin into the dark water below us.
“The pup is coming,” Indigo called from the blackness below.
Above, the bottom of the boat rocked, unsteadied by the broken net. The winch slowly reeled the mesh out of the water. It looked like a dead thing, a man-made monster fished out of the living ocean. As the fishermen moved along the rail of the ship, their images were weirdly distorted against the surface of the water. With all my willpower, I sucked in the death-dealing note that wanted to escape from my lips. The massive swirling tribal mark on my back started to feel prickly and warm. Harnessing myself in, I reminded myself that it was forbidden. I turned and swam into the shadowy deep.
Chapter Two
Indigo and I swam through the narrow cave that led to his Majesty’s grotto. Even before reaching the main chamber, I could hear Creon’s booming voice. Someone or something had made him angry. The two mermen guards at the entrance moved aside and motioned for us to enter. While Creon had no offspring, neither Indigo, daughter of my other—deceased—uncle and his wife Isla, nor I, were ever consulted on tribal matters. Most of the time, I thought Creon wished we’d just go away. We served as a constant reminder that he had no offspring of his own. It was rumored that he had started looking for a new bride, asking among even the most distant of the noble Atlantic blood for a candidate, even though his last three wives had all died giving birth. We mers were becoming less and less healthy each year. The contamination of the seas was shriveling up our fertility. So many little mers were stillborn. It was rumored that the Gulf tribe, our enemy of old, was dying. The recent pollution in the Gulf of Mexico had killed off the old, weak, elderly, and newborn mers of their tribe. Gulf mermaids had lost their unborn babes. Their situation was becoming dire. Some whispered they’d soon have to leave their native waters. But I had learned all these things through rumor, not through royal consultation. Indigo and I were inconsequential to Creon. After all, if he was still dreaming of sons, what good were two mermaid nieces?
As we swam into the grotto, we were startled to hear an even angrier voice roaring in retort to Creon. Strange. No one dared raise his voice at the king. It piqued my curiosity. Who would have the nerve to put Creon in his place?
“I will not abide this. The accord between us has not been broken since the founding of Oceanus. Your brother swore it would remain so, swore it with his blood. There are rumors among the freshwaters that you plan to—”
“Silence,” Creon shouted. “You will not speak of those…creatures…in my presence. Freshwaters,” Creon spat, “a dead race, just like your own. You exist because I tolerate it. You still live because I permit it!”
Indigo moved toward a ledge at the back of the grotto. When I saw who Creon was speaking to, who had spoken out in anger, I froze. My aunt Isla sat on a dais beside Creon. She wore a distressed expression on her face. She motioned for me to sit, but I couldn’t make myself move. Naguals, human-animal shifters, were rare. When we had warred on both land and sea, they had been our enemy—as had the Gulfs and freshwater mers. The Atlantic mers had given no quarter in their quest for dominance over Florida. I thought we’d killed them all. But there he was, a massive beast of a creature, with a leathery alligator tail in the place of our shimmering fins. His body rippled with muscle, his skin marred with scars. His head was shaved clean, but I could see the shadow of black hair thereon.
“For a king clutching at power, master of a dying kingdom, those are strong words,” the stranger said, his posture stiff and angry. He moved toward Creon. “I know what you are doing,” the nagual seethed.
I was surprised. Creon did not tolerate such disrespect. As for the stranger’s words—your brother swore to it with his blood—there was only one person he could have been talking about. My father. Indigo’s father had been a merdolphin, forever tied to the sea, not a drywalker. My father and mother had both walked the dry earth. It roused my curiosity even further.
“Enough. I will hear no more from you, Hal,” Creon said, and then motioned to his guards. “Take him to the shallows.”
I suppressed a gasp. The shallows, a series of chambers on the ocean floor, were mercilessly cold, dark, deep, and confined. Even for an alligator shifter like the nagual, it would be a harrowing torture. I wasn’t even sure how long he could stay submerged without air. I opened my mouth to contradict Creon but then thought better of it. There was another way.
The guards grabbed the nagual by the arms, but he shook them off.
“You dishonor your brother’s memory,” Hal, as Creon had named him, spat back. I could feel his anger. It polluted the water around us. It was not something you could see. There was just this strange, low vibration, not unlike the echo of a dolphin, emanating from him. I closed my eyes, tilted my head, and listened. I could hear a sharp whine rising from his body. It was growing louder as he became angrier. I had heard such a sound before…inside me.
I opened my eyes and looked around. No one else seemed to hear. The guards surrounding Creon were on alert but not frightened. They should have been. From the feel of him, Hal, the nagual, was ready to kill us all.
“Don’t speak of my brother again,” Creon growled. His eyes flitted toward me then away. “Get this aberration out of my sight.”
This time, the nagual did not fight. Creon’s guards took him by the arms and turned him toward the entrance which, I realized then, I was blocking.
“My Lady,” one of the guards said, alerting me to the need to step aside.
The nagual fixed his gaze on me. I’d expected to see long, yellow teeth, scaly skin, and reptilian eyes, but
what I found instead was something entirely different. He was startlingly handsome, but his expression was stormy. His heavy brows furrowed over dark green eyes, his strong jaw clenched hard. At some point, he must have broken his nose. The crooked bump on the ridge gave his rugged face character. Because he was a drywalker, his skin was tanned by the sun. I held his gaze.
He looked me over, studying my face carefully. I heard a change in the vibration that surrounded him. He seemed…astonished. Whatever he was feeling, it had distracted him from his rage. A small halo of bubbles effervesced from his skin. He gazed so deeply at me that I looked away for a moment…but only for a moment.
“Princess,” he murmured, inclining his head to me.
“Ink!” Creon stormed. “Move! And what took you so long?”
Once more, the nagual seemed to seethe. I nodded to him then moved aside, watching the guards lead him from the grotto. Once they’d passed the outer chamber, I turned to Creon.
“Why are you sending the nagual to the shallows? Don’t you know what can happen to him there?” I demanded.
Creon’s tail had faded to an angry dark purple color, and the muscles around his left eye twitched spasmodically. Isla shook her head, warning me away from the conversation.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, ignoring my question.
“That was my father he was speaking of, wasn’t it? What oath did my father swear to the nagual? Why are you breaking a promise my father made? And why is that creature so far from land?”
“Silence! These matters are not your business, mermaid. By the fathomless deep, it’s no wonder King Tricus silenced your kind. You will not question me. I’m king here.”
“How convenient,” I murmured. The youngest of the three brothers, Creon’s rise to power was brought about by his siblings’ bad luck. The exact cause of my father’s death was still a mystery. While Creon and Isla contended my father had died “in the war,” that was never a good enough answer for me. Indigo’s father, the middle brother, had supposedly passed away in an accident, tripping a human mine underwater. Creon’s rise to power was conveniently surrounded by accidents.
“Go to the surface. Welcome the yacht that will arrive any moment. Escort the visitors to the grotto,” Creon commanded.
“And who am I welcoming?”
Creon’s face twisted into a strange expression of anger and glee. “Just go,” he ordered, then turned to Indigo. “You will stay here and wait. Don’t leave the grotto again. Enough of this business playing with dolphins, Indigo. Leave it to the lesser of our kind.”
“Lesser of our kind?” Indigo retorted, her voice edgy.
“Insolent girls! I am cursed with my brothers’ impudent daughters. You’re both of Tigonea’s ilk. One would think destroying the mermaid’s holy orders and drying up siren song would be enough,” he said, then looked at me and smiled. “Yet there are other ways to tame willful mermaids. Go, Ink. What are you waiting for?”
Turning, I swam out of the grotto. Rage made my hands shake. My great-great grandfather had done everything he could to punish those involved with Princess Tigonea’s uprising. The temples of the Great Mother Ocean had been destroyed, the Great Mother’s cecaelia acolytes murdered, and siren song outlawed. But if Creon died leaving no heirs, I would become queen. When that day came, things would change. I would bring back the old ways. All Atlantic mers would live wild once more, reconnected to our Great Mother Ocean. I wouldn’t have mers building sky-scrappers in Miami nor investing in the human stock market, as Creon had them doing. Until then, however, I had to follow Creon’s will. Now he had me off welcoming visitors, playing pretty princess with some strangers. No doubt another mer tribe was arriving by boat, but who? Someone from farther in the Atlantic? The Bermudas, perhaps? It hardly mattered. I’d do as he asked…eventually. First, I had a little side trip to make.
Chapter Three
The caves leading to the shallows were dark and showed their disuse. Thick clumps of seaweed and crumbling rocks congested the passages. The water was cold and dark. I had to narrow my gaze to see in the black water. I had only been to the shallows on a few occasions before, more out of curiosity than need. During the wars, the cells had been used frequently but not since. The place echoed with dark memories.
I moved down the dimly illuminated tunnels, startling an eel in my wake. It slithered through the water away from me, disappearing into the darkness. I didn’t know for certain where they’d taken the nagual, but it hardly mattered. For some reason, I could feel him. His vibration buzzed in the water. Sometimes I thought I was the only mermaid alive who still felt the old power so strongly. Others sensed it, the merdolphins using it to work with dolphins, but no one seemed to feel it as powerfully I did. I never understood why the gift was strong in me.
I hid and waited for Creon’s guards to leave. At the bottom of the ocean, it was too cold and uncomfortably deep even for us. My skin faded to pale blue in response to the frigid temperature. Creon’s guards were soft. They soon headed back to warmer water. After all, there was no reason to stay. No one could escape the shallows—unaided, that is.
Once the guards were gone, I swam to the cave where the nagual was being held. I could sense him inside, but he was moving slowly. The cold water would cause him to brumate, to slow down his body’s systems so he could survive. I hated the thought that he was suffering. “Hal?” I whispered, using the name Creon had called the nagual. I touched the stone door of his cell.
I heard movement on the other side. “My Lady,” he replied weakly.
Using my blade, I pried the bar from the door. I then pushed the winch attached to a pulley which slowly moved the heavy stone door. It made a grating sound as it slid open.
The water inside the cell was pitch black and icy cold. I shivered as the water mixed with the slightly warmer waves surrounding me. I couldn’t see Hal at first, but then he moved out, very slowly, clutching the door of the cell. His massive body drooped. He looked like he was going to pass out.
“Let’s get you out of here,” I whispered. Gently putting his arm over my shoulder and wrapping my other arm around his waist, I guided Hal down the corridor.
“Princess, King Creon will—“
“I don’t give a damn about Creon.”
Hal did not reply, but again I felt a vibration emanating off him. He seemed pleased with my response.
I led Hal through a series of caves, getting him as far away from the grotto as possible. The last thing I needed was for someone to spot us. I was defying Creon, but I didn’t care. Hal said my father had sworn an oath to protect him. I intended to keep that promise, even if Creon did not.
While I was edgy because my exile year would begin in mere hours, my focus turned solely to the nagual pressed against me. I was not the kind of mermaid who liked to get cozy with mermen. I had never been in a relationship, not because I was a princess—Indigo had plenty of romantic dalliances—but because I’d never felt attracted to anyone before. There was something about this nagual that caught my attention. He had startlingly soft skin even though the muscles underneath were hard as stone. He was huge, his body towering over me. I did my best to guide his massive frame though I had to cling to him to do so. I found I didn’t mind having him pressed close to me.
Once we were a distance away from the grotto, I guided Hal toward the surface, closer to the sunlight where the water was warmer. In the distance, I spotted a bloom of jellyfish. They swayed among the waves, their white, blue, and purple colors shimmering in the slants of sunlight. Such gentle looking but deadly creatures, I always found them enchanting. I smiled at them then back at Hal.
“This area is safe as long as you keep your distance from the jellies. Land is that direction,” I said, pointing.
Closer to the surface, Hal started to look better, much more alert. Sunlight streamed down on him. He really was enormous. If he’d wanted, he probably could have crushed my skull, retribution for his imprisonment. But for some reason, I knew I was
safe with him.
“Are you well enough to travel alone from here? I have people I trust. I could bring someone to help,” I said.
“No, thank you. Please tell me if I am mistaken, but you are the daughter of Dauphin?”
“I am. You said you knew my father?”
The nagual nodded. “Your father was a wise man, a man of peace. It seems his daughter follows in his wake.”
I tried not to show how much the compliment affected me. “You said my father swore an oath that you would be protected. I couldn’t let Creon break my father’s word.”
Hal smiled gently. Given his rough ways, it was sweet to see such a soft expression on his face. “Then I am twice honored by your blood, princess.”
“Please, just call me Ink.”
“As you wish,” he said softly.
“Do you have far to travel? The salt water must hurt your skin,” I said and inadvertently reached out to touch his arm.
I was surprised when he gently took my hand. He moved closer to me, looking deeply into my eyes. “I’ll be all right,” he said, then lifted my hand to his lips, “thanks to you. Be cautious, Ink, daughter of Dauphin. There is blood in the water.”
“I’m prescribed to leave the waves this very night,” I said, keenly aware that Hal was still holding my hand.
“Your exile?”
“Yes.”
Hal scowled deeply. “Do not trust Creon. A new war is coming. There are shadows of it everywhere. Trust only what you feel.”