by Erin Hayes
The glowing light pulsated brightly once more, surrounding my body in an orb of light, then dissipated into the night’s sky. Moments later, I felt a strange sensation as cool water swished between my legs, touching my body in its most sensitive female parts which, without the protective covering of my tail scales, were exposed. It took me a moment to steady myself in the rocking waves. My hand drifted underwater to my sides. I gently stroked my hands over my body, feeling the bastardization of myself as a mer. Now, I was just like the humans. I stood on two feet, feeling the sand between my toes. Fighting the waves on wobbling knees, I made my way toward the beach.
King Manx moved down the beach to meet me. I stiffened my back. If I had to walk out of this water naked, in front of strangers, destined to wed my enemy, then I would do it with as much dignity as I could. I was Ink, daughter of Dauphin and Coral. I was no fragile mermaid princess. Stone-faced, I scanned the group collected on the beach. Then, I noticed a shimmer in the darkness behind them. Among the thick foliage along the shore, I swore I saw a pair of glowing green eyes. Something or someone was watching from the shadows. For just a moment, I felt a soft vibration. There was an odd feeling like someone had whispered in my ear, touching my cheek in a soothing manner. I could almost hear words on the wind. I tilted my head to listen more closely, but could not make them out. Had Hal really come? There was too much risk in it. My mind must have been playing tricks on me. I peered more closely, but the green eyes had gone.
Feeling encouraged, I tensed my muscles and moved against the waves. I tried ignoring the pain as I walked with soft feet on broken stones and jagged shells. I‘d nearly reached the beach when a loud voice intoned.
“Land and bone; earth and tomb; may the blood of the Great Mother Ocean remain strong,” chanted a very old woman in long robes.
I looked her over. Surely, she’d come with the Gulfs. She was a holy woman, that was evident, but she was not a mermaid. My mother loved to tell me folktales of other aquatic shifters, the cecaelia, in particular, who’d lived among our kind before my ancient relatives’ unfortunate gambit, but there were more creatures out there besides mers and cecaelia. Judging by the swirling snake-like designs trailing down this woman’s arms, I guessed her to be a mamiwata, a serpent shifter. I was beginning to see how naive I really was. Creon would have us believe that the other shifters had all been decimated, but it was a lie. Freshwater mers, naguals, and mamiwata all still lived. Why perpetuate the ruse? What purpose did the lie serve?
“Speak the words,” the mamiwata commanded.
“Sea to stone; water to air; exile reborn; stand among us here,” the Gulfs crooned.
Her long, dark robes trailing along behind her, the mamiwata moved down the beach where the surf faded along the sand. She took a small dagger from her belt, stabbed her hand, and then shook her blood into the water.
“Walk, princess. Child of the ancients. Join your bonded one.”
I scanned the crowd. My Atlantic brothers and sisters looked worried. Some even looked angry. And again, I looked for those green eyes, but there was no one there. A flight of fancy, just romantic nonsense, I must have imagined the eyes, the feeling, in the first place. By now, Hal would have returned to his own people.
I walked forward. The surf lapped around my ankles. The pain was excruciating. Most mermaids cried. It was expected. But not me. I would be the one mermaid in history who did not weep even though my newborn legs felt like they were on fire. I clenched my teeth and moved forward one foot at a time.
The mamiwata called to me, “Come, brave princess.”
I stepped along the shell and flower path. The crowd bowed. I tried to ignore the nagging embarrassment I felt about being naked in front of them. They had all been through this before. They knew what it was like, the pain and shame. I fixed my eyes on Manx who moved forward to meet me. He stood at the end of the path waiting for me, holding the sheer robe in his hands.
As I walked forward, I realized the Gulfs were weighing me, judging me. When I wed Manx, I would rule them too. What kind of princess had the Atlantic tribe sent? Did they all believe I was the mermaid from some prophecy? No doubt they were trying to determine. I fought away the pain, stiffened my back, and reminded myself that the eldest among them had fought in the wars, had shed the blood of my tribe. We were at peace, but that didn’t mean I had to forget.
Yet there was Manx, waiting for me, looking so…concerned. Maybe he was different from the Gulfs of old. Maybe I would be able to find some good in the merman to whom I had been traded like a heap of kelp.
The sharp scent of land assailed my nose. I looked back once more at the waves. Isla, Creon, and the rest of the tribe had gone. Only Seaton and Indigo remained to watch my wretched transformation. The surf roared as it broke along the shore. Moonbeams reflected off the fins of a pod of dolphins swimming nearby. I was lost to the sea. I was an exile. But I would not cry.
Taking a deep breath, I turned and made my way down the path to Manx.
“Ink,” he whispered, then carefully helped me put on the robe. I slid my wet arms into the human garb. The material was soft and sheer. I moved to close the robe, but Manx did not let go of the fabric. Standing very close to me, the front of the robe still open, his eyes slid slowly down my body. He stared at my wet, uncovered breasts. My nipples were pert in the chill of the air. His eyes slid further, down my waist, across my hips, between my legs. He took a deep breath and sucked in his bottom lip.
“Thank you,” I said, tugging the fabric.
He did not let go. His eyes drifted back up my body, hovering on my breasts for just a moment before he met my eyes again. “By the old ones of the sea, you are amazing,” he whispered in a voice too low for the others to hear. “So beautiful.”
Annoyed and feeling taken advantage of, I pulled the fabric hard. This time I wrestled it from his grasp. I folded it across my body and belted it.
I then looked back at the water.
Seaton inclined his head to me and then disappeared into the waves.
Indigo was crying. I could see the shimmer of tears on her cheeks. A water-bound merdolphin, she would never have to face exile. There was nothing she could do to help me. She raised her hand in farewell, turned, and sank under the water. A moment later, I saw her dorsal fin reflecting the moonlight. She’d transformed back into her other self and so had I.
I looked up at Manx, who was smiling down at me, his forehead and upper lip moist with sweat. “Welcome to sunny Florida.”
Chapter Six
I sat along the rail of the yacht as it glided across the waves toward Miami.
“Look at the lights,” Manx said as he held my hand. “Aren’t they amazing?”
I stared at the city. It glowed with a prism of color, the man-made lights shimmering on the waves. The tall buildings looked silver against the skyline, drowning the twinkling stars overhead. I gazed at Manx who was staring adoringly at the cityscape. Maybe I was the strange one, but I didn’t find the city attractive in the least. Riding on the boat made my head and stomach lurch, and it was all I could do to calm my newly-transformed stomach.
“Here, Ink. Drink this.”
I looked up to see Roald standing before me, a bottle of a blueish-colored liquid in his hand. “Roald,” I said, half-rising to greet him.
“Easy,” he said, reaching out to steady me. “Your legs won’t be steady for a few days yet.”
Roald had worked with Seaton and me as part of the scouts. Keeping watch for deep-sea mines, new drilling operations, or other signs of trouble, we had kept the tribe safe. On land, Roald had joined the suffocators, the mer equivalent of the human police force. Creon kept the suffocators, his personal army, always in close reach. I’d always assumed it was because he expected the Gulfs to wage war again at any moment. Maybe that was not the case.
Suddenly aware of the fact that Manx’s eyes were on us, I let go of Roald. “Thank you, old friend,” I said, sitting once again. I took the bottle from Roald.
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“We call it aqua vitae,” Roald explained. “It helps us acclimate to the dryness, and it will help with the nausea you must be feeling.”
“How thoughtful, Roald,” Manx said then.
I heard the hard undertone in his voice. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.
“King Manx,” Roald said with a courteous bow. “Princess,” he added, also bowing to me. With a polite smile, Roald left us. Considering Roald was not easily disturbed, it worried me to see him respond to Manx like that. I didn’t think Roald was bothered by anything.
“You should try it,” Manx said, encouraging me. “It will help if you are feeling seasick.”
“Now, there is a misnomer,” I said, and then sipped the liquid. It was some kind of spring water. I could taste the sharp tang of minerals inside. I swallowed slowly, afraid my stomach would revolt, but instead, it made me feel much better.
As I drank, Manx leaned toward my ear. “You’ll find that mers don’t act the same on land as they do in the water. You may have been friends with or trusted others in the ocean, but people have different agendas here on land. Don’t be quick to trust those you knew below the waves, no matter how friendly they seem. There are rumors about your friend.”
“Rumors?” I cast a glance at Roald who was leaning against the opposite rail looking out at the city. Clearly, mers on land lived a very different lifestyle. I glanced at my mersisters who were dressed in bikinis or short dresses. They had embellished their ears in the fashion of the humans, large sparkling diamond and gold earrings adorning them. Mermaids could never resist such beautiful human trinkets. We loved them in spite of ourselves. Such items had lured many a mermaid to their doom. As well, many mers were smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol, vices of humans. Apparently, mers acted differently on land, but what about Roald? I gazed at him. His dark colored shirt fluttered in the breeze. “Roald worked with me. He was a scout and a good and trustworthy merman. What kind of rumors are there about him?”
Manx leaned into my ear. “You know he is a suffocator?”
“Yes.”
“Half the suffocators have gone rebel. The other half, such as your friend, have questionable loyalty.”
I was shocked. I stared back at Roald, who was gazing out at the city. “I cannot believe it. The suffocators are undyingly loyal to Creon. Why?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? Don’t trust him. We may yet have use for your friendship, but don’t put your faith in him. A storm is coming. You must be careful who you put your faith in.”
“Then how do I know if I should trust you?” Though I said it in jest, my mind had cataloged the fact that he had not let go of the robe, that he had stolen a moment for his own pleasure. Perhaps I should have been flattered? I was, after all, intended as his wife. But it hadn’t felt like flattery. It had felt like control.
Manx leaned into my ear. “If there is one person here you can trust, it is me. I would die for you. You will be my wife, rule at my side, and be the mother of my offspring. I will never let anything harm you now that you are mine. I’d give my life for you.”
His passionate words surprised me. I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say.
“No sharp comeback this time?” Manx asked jokingly, then wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. “Drink, dearest mermaid. We’ll have you home soon. It’s windy in Miami tonight, but the weather is still hot. You’ll see, I have everything ready for you.”
Not sure what he meant, I could only smile and sip the aqua vitae. I glanced across the deck of the yacht. This time I caught Roald standing at the side of the mamiwata whose robes and white hair whipped in the breeze. Ronald bent low so the mamiwata could whisper in his ear. He wore a severe expression. When the old woman finished speaking, they both turned and looked at me.
Chapter Seven
“This is South Beach,” Manx explained as the yacht glided along the shore. Humans lingered on the beach: couples walking hand in hand, laughing partiers sitting around a bonfire, children chasing the surf. Being so close to them was strange. They seemed so happy to be on the beach, near the ocean. It puzzled me.
“They call this the art deco district,” Manx explained, gesturing to the shoreline. “The buildings here have unique architecture. Humans can be very creative, like industrious schools of crabs,” Manx said with a laugh.
As the yacht pushed toward land, I saw more people. I caught their scent and could hear their words, their laughter. I don’t know what I expected, but I hadn’t expected them to seem so…normal. There was really nothing menacing about them.
We motored down the coast then turned from the ocean into the bay, passing under bridges and through narrow straits. The ocean disappeared from view, and soon we were cruising down a canal between rows of human dwellings. The sweet scent of the ocean faded. Now all I could smell was the land. The yacht motored toward a secluded stretch where an enormous villa sat along the water. The passengers prepared to debark.
“Welcome home,” Manx told me. “I’ve prepared a suite for you. One of your people, Pangi, has come to assist you. Tonight we will celebrate your exile. All of the mers in Miami have come to meet my future queen. And tomorrow night, we’ll have our bonding ceremony.”
“So soon,” I said, realizing the moment I said it that it was not a sentiment I should have shared aloud.
I saw an annoyed expression cross Manx’s face. “Do you think you’re too good for the king of the Gulfs?”
I cursed myself for my carelessness. “Not at all. I’d hoped for more time to prepare for the ceremony, to choose my gown,” I lied.
Manx laughed. “You mermaids and your love of beautiful things. Pangi selected something for you. It was Creon’s wish that we wed quickly. Your uncle has his own ways,” he said then added in a low tone, “but I have secured a future for my people.” It was Manx’s turn to speak a sentiment better left unspoken.
“A future?”
He frowned then nodded. “In the Atlantic. In safety.”
“Then your people are leaving the Gulf? You’re joining our waters?”
“The humans have poisoned our home. The Gulf is killing us. Your uncle and I have brokered an agreement, and I have negotiated our refuge. Now I just need to take care of my part, clean up some old entanglements for your uncle.”
“What does that mean?” At once, my mind went back to the argument I heard between Hal and Creon.
Manx shook his head. “Don’t let it concern you, lovely mermaid. We’ve arrived, and you have a party to get ready for.” The yacht docked at the most enormous house along the strait. The massive white mansion had tall marble columns. A long reflecting pool sided the walkway that ran from the dock to the mansion. Fountains with flickering rainbow lights illuminated the path. The heady scent of flowers filled the air. I could see flashing lights inside the house and hear the thumping sound of human music. The mers of Miami were celebrating in true human style.
The yacht docked, and the mers debarked and headed toward the mansion, all of them shooting excited glances my way. I debarked the ship and stepped with wobbling legs onto the dock. The Queen Mother waited for us. In the distance, I saw the mamiwata climb into a small fishing boat. Roald gently guided her. Once she was safely aboard, the driver turned on the engine, and the small craft set off back into the night. The mamiwata stood leaning against the rail. I could feel her eyes on me.
Roald, too, gazed back at me. Seeing me surrounded by the royals, he turned and headed toward the mansion. He looked frustrated.
“Welcome to Miami, Ink,” the Queen Mother said to me then turned to Manx. “You’ll make certain sure she is comfortable?”
“Of course. I would hardly leave my bride to linger in a robe.”
She smiled gently at him then turned back to me. “I’ll leave you, for now. My duties in Pensacola call, but I will meet you again very soon.”
I bowed to her. “My Lady.”
She took my hand. “You are my daughter
now, Ink.”
Like hell, I thought, but I smiled nicely at her. “Then…Mother.”
The old mermaid smiled.
Manx bowed to her then took my hand. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
I stared at the mansion. The lights inside were bright and flashing, the music blaring too loud. This was my life now. I was a drywalker exiled to the nightlife of Miami.
Chapter Eight
“I’ll take you around the side,” Manx said, leading me down a path away from the others.
The walkway at the side of the mansion was lined flowers. I bent to breathe in their perfume. Intoxicating. The ocean did have its own beauties. There was nothing more stunning than a bloom of iridescent jellyfish, seaweed-filled the water with an aromatic scent, and I loved the kelp forests, but the simple blossom’s rich fragrance surprised me.
“Gardenia,” Manx said, picking a blossom and stuffing it behind my ear. He brushed a stray hair away from my forehead. “It brings out colors in your hair.”
“Colors?”
Manx grinned. “Come see.”
We entered a side door to the mansion. Inside the entryway was a gold-trimmed mirror. Manx stood me before it. I stared at myself. It was strange to see myself with legs, my shimmering blue tail gone. But my hair…it had always been dark, highlighted by the blue waves. Dry, however, my dark hair was shimmering with highlights of purple and blue, my hair glimmering with a magenta hue. I gazed up at Manx. Under the bright human lights, his dark hair carried a blueish hue as well.