by Erin Hayes
“Won’t the humans notice?”
“No,” Manx said, shaking his head. “They’ll believe it is artifice. They love to play with the color of their hair. They even have a hair color, the same as Indigo’s, that they call mermaid. Humans are stupid, cruel and stupid. It’s hard to believe we ever warred with such creatures. We are sharks gliding among manatees.”
I turned from Manx and looked back at my reflection. My skin looked very pale under the bright light. But my eyes were still clear blue.
“Come,” Manx said. Taking my hand, he led me forward.
Even though it was hot outside, the air in the house was incredibly cold. Covered only with the light robe, my skin rose in bumps. The chilly air froze my bare toes. The unnatural light felt over-bright. It hurt my eyes.
We came to a large staircase. “Let me carry you,” Manx said, and then without waiting for my reply, he picked me up. “You’re just getting used to your legs. The stairs are trickier than they look.”
He lifted me gently and carried me up the stairs to the second floor of the mansion. I wanted to resist him, feeling indignant about being carried, but his embrace was comforting. I appreciated his thoughtfulness. Maybe, just maybe, I could become accustomed to him. After all, it wasn’t like I would ever see the nagual again. I would be married to Manx the following night.
Manx pushed open the door to reveal a massive bedroom suite. He set me down slowly onto the marble-tiled floors.
“Pangi?” he called.
“Here,” a singsong voice called back.
It took me a minute to steady myself. The large room was decorated beautifully. There was an enormous white-wood bed draped with gauzy blue fabric. The bed cover, trimmed with sparkling beads, matched in color. On the walls were paintings of the ocean and of mermaids. How handsomely the humans had painted us.
“Oh, my king, my princess, welcome,” Pangi called out once she spotted us.
I remembered her just a little. A pretty mermaid with flowing rose-gold colored hair, she’d gone to exile around the same time as Roald. She and Indigo had been close friends. I remembered Indigo crying at Pangi’s exile ceremony. She’d told me later that Pangi was some distant relative of ours, but the mermaid and I had never traveled in the same circles.
“Pangi, help Ink get ready, and then bring her downstairs.”
“Of course! Oh Lady Ink, wait until you see what your king has done for you. All these human clothes and jewels. You are outfitted like a human princess. Here, I chose this dress for you. Do you like it?” Pangi asked, rushing from Manx and me to the bed from which she picked up a pale pink gown made of soft material.
“Not that one,” Manx said. He crossed the room and opened the double doors to a large closet that was, I realized, stuffed full of clothes. “This,” he said, handing Pangi a short black gown with sparkles that shimmered like our tails.
“Open back. Good idea. Everyone will see her tribal mark.”
“What does that matter?” I asked.
“Well, everyone knows about your tribal. The Gulfs say—”
“Don’t talk her to death. Just her get dressed,” Manx said, shooting her a sharp look. He then turned to me. “I’ll go greet our guests. Are you all right here?”
What was I going to say? “I’m fine. Thank you for everything.”
“Of course, my princess,” he said with a wink, and then left.
“Oh, you’re going to look beautiful in this,” Pangi said, laying the garment down on the bed. “Now, let’s get you out of this robe and dressed. Everyone is waiting to meet you. It’s wild down there, I have to warn you, but you’ll get used to it. Mer ways on land are different,” she said, gently unbelting my robe, pulling it over my shoulders. “Wow, it’s even more impressive now. Come look,” Pangi said, then pulled me to a mirror.
I stood naked before my reflection. The large mark on my back had changed during my transformation. Now it took up my whole back. Its strange design played tricks on the eye. At times, it almost seemed to move.
“What do people say about my tribal mark?” I asked Pangi.
“Well, you know how it is for our tribe. We don’t really pay much attention to our marks other than them indicating we’re drywalkers,” she said, turning to show me the mark on the side of her neck. It was small and shaped a bit like a turtle. “But to the Gulfs,” Pangi continued, “the marks are very important. They tell about your fate, your strengths. The bigger the mark, the more powerful the mer. All the Gulfs know about you. Your mark is rumor, legendary among them. Seems like you’re quite the mystery to them. No wonder they wanted you for Manx. Surely they will send you to see their cecaelia so she can read your mark.”
“A cecaelia? I thought such creatures were long dead.”
“I’ve never seen her. The Gulfs have her stashed away somewhere. They have a lot of secrets like that. They are different from us, Ink. They,” she began, then paused and looked toward the door, “…they are very superstitious. They have their own ways, ways we don’t practice.”
“They don’t worship the Great Mother Ocean as we do?”
Pangi shook her head. “I don’t know. We are not invited to their practices. But I’ve seen things. You saw the mamiwata?”
I nodded.
“Another creature under their protection. They say, in the swamps of Louisiana, the Gulf mers practice very old magic. Strange things are happening here on land, Ink.” She suddenly turned quieter, more serious. Her bubbly persona faded. She met my gaze in the mirror. “Something has happened among the suffocators. They’ve all but disappeared. Please don’t tell Manx I told you. Roald will know more. I just didn’t want you to walk into the situation blind. I don’t know how much Creon and Isla know, but it’s good that Creon chose you. The Gulfs don’t know you, Ink. All they know is you are a princess with an amazing tribal mark. Don’t show them your real self, the strong Ink we know. We know what and who our princess really is, the orphaned daughter of Dauphin and Coral. We know what that means. We’ve all suffered because of the Gulfs. Let them think you’re soft. Be cautious. Keep your eyes open. And above all else, don’t trust anyone.” She painted on a fake smile then said, “Now, let’s get you in that dress. Your king is waiting.”
Chapter Nine
The sound of human music thudded through the walls. It made my ears hurt and my knees shake. Wearing a sparkling dress that made my skin itch, undergarments that heaved up my bosom, and my face adorned with a ridiculous amount of makeup, I looked like a fool. Though Pangi all-but-insisted I wear high heels—apparently human women love to torture their feet—I refused. I could barely walk as it was. I wouldn’t fall flat on my face in front of the Gulfs just to make some sort of impression. And if what Pangi said was true about my reputation among the Gulfs, I wasn’t sure what kind of impression I should be making.
“Ready?” Pangi asked.
I didn’t answer.
She opened the door to a raucous sight. There was a large swimming pool in the center of the covered space. Several mers had shifted back into their aquatic form and were enjoying the water. On the tiled floor all around, people were laughing, drinking, and dancing. Music blared. Bright lights flashed with a rainbow of color that spun all around the room. I could smell smoke, alcohol, and sweat. Most of the mermaids were topless, their breasts covered in some sort of glittery salve, wearing only a bikini bottom and loads of glimmering jewels. Some of the Gulf mers had painted their tribal marks with paint that made it glow under the blue light. The scene was disgusting.
I spotted Manx on the other side of the room. A mermaid with long blonde hair was sitting on his lap, her hand inside his open shirt, her breasts rubbing against him. A second mermaid, a beauty with short red hair, handed him a drink then kissed him sweetly on the cheek. I froze. What the hell? In the back of my head, a low note sounded. I could just hear the sound under the thud of music blasting. Careful, I cautioned myself.
I cast an eye around the room. In a dark corner, I
spotted Roald sitting with two other mermen. He wore a dark, serious expression. It was clear that these mermen were not here to party. Roald lifted a lit cigarette, inhaling deeply. The glowing ember cast shadows across his face. The other mermen were looking at me too. Roald exhaled, smoke circling his face, and then nodded to me.
“The suffocators,” Pangi whispered in my ear.
Despite the fact that the scene in front of me was supposed to be my welcome party, my darling king was too busy squeezing the ass of the pretty blonde on his lap to even notice I’d entered the room. I sucked in a sharp breath and turned, crossing the room to Roald.
“Ink? I need to take you to Manx,” Pangi called.
I ignored her.
Pangi hurried behind me, catching me by the arm. “No, Ink. Manx will be angry. You don’t understand the way of things here.”
“I can see very clearly,” I replied.
“You’re making a mistake,” Pangi whispered urgently.
Seeing I was making my way to him, Roald stood.
“Ink,” Pangi said desperately then squeezed my arm, “you’ll put Roald at risk!”
I stopped and turned to look at her.
“Now is not the time,” Pangi whispered desperately.
I looked back at Roald who also shook his head no.
What the hell was going on? “Fine, let’s go see my king then.”
I nodded to Roald then headed back toward Manx. Holding my head high, I straightened my back and walked directly toward my king. I could feel my anger emanating from me. The wild mers, dancing around like wanton humans, disgusted me. They wasted the freedom our mothers and fathers had bought with their blood. I was ashamed to see my kind behave in such a manner. This was how the king led his tribe? Clearly, he had no interest in setting a good example. Had I been sold off by a tyrant to a hustler?
The rowdy mers finally recognized me. They stopped dancing, turned down the music, and cleared a path. Manx was one of the last to notice I’d arrived. Still flirting with his whores, it wasn’t until I was standing in front of him that he noticed I’d arrived. The room, however, had stilled. The music played on, but the tribe had turned to watch.
The red-haired mermaid, seeing the storm on my face, moved off and disappeared into the crowd. When Manx finally turned to see me, it was too late for his blonde-haired tart to escape. She was caught with her guilty tits pressed against my so-called fiancé.
“Ink,” Manx called happily. “I’m so glad you could join us.”
“You have something on your shirt,” I said stiffly.
Behind me, several of the mers laughed.
“Go away,” I heard Manx whisper to the mermaid.
I looked her over, expecting to see a condescending smile on her face. Instead what I saw was fear and an apology.
Manx rose and came to stand in front of me. “You look so beautiful,” he said, reaching out to stroke my cheek. I could smell the other woman’s sweat on his fingers. I turned my face away. Manx gripped my arm and leaned into my ear. “Don’t be jealous. I see nothing but you now. They are just toys. Now smile before the Gulfs so they don’t think you’re haughty and arrogant like every other Atlantic mermaid.” He let me go and then turned to the crowd.
“My kin, my tribe of Miami,” Manx called, turning me to face the mers. “My Atlantic princess, soon to be my bride, has come to join us. Gulfs, I am pleased to introduce you to the mermaid who will be your queen. Mers of Miami, show Ink your respect.”
Much to my shock, the assembled mers bowed low before me. Even those in the water nodded their heads in submission. I cast a glance out at the crowd. Roald and the two other suffocators were standing at the back. Roald made eye contact with me, then bowed, the others following his lead.
“You see, my bride,” Manx said in a low voice so only I could hear. “Look at the life I’m giving you. Because of me, they all bow to you. You are a lucky girl, Ink of the Atlantic.”
Astonished, I didn’t know what to say.
Manx smiled. “Now, let’s show her Miami,” Manx screamed, causing all the mers to yell back in excitement. Moments later, the music blared, and I felt the welcoming hands of Miami on me, the other mermaids and mermen hugging me, receiving me.
“Her tribal,” I heard someone whisper aghast. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I swear it moved when she was angry,” the other mer whispered in reply.
I was propelled forward by friendly hands. Manx disappeared in the crowd as champagne began flowing. The already intoxicated mers started drinking even more. People I knew, other Atlantic mers, blessed me. My head felt dizzy, but moments later, I found myself steadied by strong arms. Roald.
Roald pulled me out of the fray. “Ink, you’re in danger.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They’ll come for you soon. I’ll do everything I can. For now, be careful, be smart, and keep your eyes open,” Roald whispered then let me go.
Two excited mermaids from the Gulf tribe took me by the arms, spun me around, and then began talking to me, both of them speaking at once. Struggling out of their grasp, I turned to look for Roald, but he and the other suffocators had gone.
“Lady Ink? Did you hear us?” one of the mermaids asked.
I hadn’t listened to a word they’d been saying. “I’m sorry, what was it?”
“Your tribal…it’s amazing. Do all the Atlantic royals have such detailed marks?”
I shook my head. “No. We’re not all drywalkers. My parents…I don’t really remember their marks.”
“Oh, she needs to see the cecaelia soon. We’ll tell Manx to take her straight away.”
“No wonder they wanted her. I’d bet she’s the one in the prophecy.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just look at her. She’s gorgeous. And she is a princess.”
“We’re just so pleased to meet you,” they gushed in unison.
I scanned the crowd once more. Curious faces peered at me, but I didn’t see Roald anywhere. What had he meant? Who was coming for me? Frustrated, I sighed heavily. More than being exiled from the ocean, I was beginning to feel like I’d been exiled from reason. Hal was right, there was blood in the water. But I was still too blind to see.
Chapter Ten
I lay in bed staring up at the canopy overhead. Someone had strung twinkling blue lights through the gauzy fabric. I’d opened the windows, dying to get the fake chill out of the air. Hot wind blew in through the open casement, ruffling the curtains. The noise downstairs had finally abated. The reveling mers had left. I was grateful. I’d stayed downstairs pretending to enjoy myself for as long as I could. Finally, it seemed, Manx had cued in on my discomfort and asked Pangi to take me back upstairs.
“You look drained,” he said. “The first day can be exhausting. Too many hands and too many people. Why don’t you rest?”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully. The day had been more overwhelming than he knew. I desperately needed to escape to somewhere quiet.
“I’ll check in on you later. Tonight didn’t go as I had hoped. There was miscommunication between us. Is it all right if I come by, wake you?”
“You’re assuming I’ll be able to sleep.”
“I’ll get these carousers out of my…our…house and see you soon.” He’d smiled sweetly at me, making me wonder for what felt like the tenth time that night who he actually was. Was he the regal king who’d appeared in our grotto, the caring fiancé who’d carried me upstairs, or the sharp-tongued letch from the party? I wasn’t sure and didn’t like the uncertainty.
Sighing deeply, I got out of bed and went out to the balcony. It was that strange time of night when the moon had already passed most of the evening sky. It was not yet daylight, but the night’s sky had lost its depth. The balcony looked out on the canal. A sleek yacht motored down the waterway. I looked at the human passengers sitting on the deck. They were an old, white-haired couple wearing matching red, white, and blue jackets. They sipped drinks fr
om stainless steel mugs and laughed as they headed out to sea. They looked sweet. I had assumed that humans would be my biggest problem on land. Maybe not.
A second, smaller fishing boat passed by. It had a canopy covering the deck. Its metal rigging clacked against the deck poles. The boat moved slowly as it passed the villa. The waves in its wake were illuminated orange by the light of the nearby street lamps. The light cast long shadows across the rickety old vessel. The boat slowed to a near stop. A man stood in the shadow of the canopy. I could make out his silhouette. But more than that, I could make out the shimmering green color of his eyes. I stood frozen, my hands gripping the balcony rail.
The man stepped forward into the light. His face was shadowed by his hood. He dropped his hood back to reveal his face.
“Hal?” I whispered.
He motioned as if to speak to me but then stopped short, pulled his hood back on, and stepped back into the shadows.
Behind me, the door opened. “Ink?” Manx called.
The boat picked up speed and motored away from the mansion. But I could still see the glimmer of Hal’s green eyes. What in the world was he doing here?
“Ink? Where are you?” Manx called.
I watched the boat motor out of sight, slipping down the dark canal.
“Ink?”
“Here,” I called then stepped back inside.
Manx laughed. I could smell the sharp scent of alcohol on him. “I thought maybe you’d swum home. It was quite the sight downstairs, wasn’t it?”
Immature. Asinine. Disrespectful. I couldn’t figure out which word to use to describe what I had seen. “Yes, it was,” I said simply.
“Humans are wonderfully hedonistic. They have so many pleasures, amusements we are not provided. Mers are naturally drawn to the sensual. Human food, alcohol, drugs, even sex…they are all delicious indulgences. On land, some mers struggle to control themselves. Others choose not to.”