by Erin Hayes
“What about you?”
Manx shrugged. “Life in the ocean is about survival,” he said, coming close to me. Gently, he put his hands on my waist. “We live in hiding, strive to protect our ways, but we don’t enjoy life much, do we? Humans enjoy life. You should see New Orleans. Many Gulf mers enjoy the erotic pleasures of that city. And Miami is alive with energy, wild, hot energy. It wakes us up, makes us crave pleasure again.”
I pulled back, forcing him to drop his hands. “They are dancing on the bones of their ancestors.”
“Have they sent me such a serious mermaid?” Manx asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “You are a vision of loveliness, and we are alone here. Most mermaids would have melted into my arms by now.”
“I’m not most mermaids.”
Anger flashed across his face. “Clearly. Maybe your heart already lies elsewhere? Tell me about your old friend Roald. What was he to you?”
“A comrade, nothing more. My heart belongs to no one,” I said, but I surprised myself when Hal’s green eyes and the feel of his lips on my hand crossed my mind.
Manx looked closely at me. “You’re wrong,” he said then. “Your heart belongs to me. You don’t know where you are, princess. I’m the only thing that stands between you and danger. Be glad you have me looking after you. It’s about time you realize that I’m all you have.”
In a way, he was right. I was an orphan sold off by my own king. But it had been done for the good of the tribe. I might not have had my parents, but I still had my tribe, and I loved them. I was about to tell Manx just that when he put his hands on my waist again and pulled me close to him. He pressed his face into my hair. “You still smell like the sea,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, Ink. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll love you all my life. You’ll be my bonded one, my beautiful bride, my queen. You looked so beautiful tonight. My tribe liked you. They liked your looks and that smart mouth of yours.”
“Did they?”
“Hmm,” Manx groaned, pulling me close to him. This time, I could feel his erection pressing through his pants. Surprising me, Manx leaned in a planted a kiss on my lips. I could taste the flavors of coconut and alcohol in his mouth.
“Manx,” I protested, “please stop.”
“You’re so beautiful, Ink,” he said, his hands gently stroking my breasts.
I stepped back. “Manx, we are not common mers. Our ceremony…they will want to ensure we are properly bonded, that you are my first. I understand such things are important to the Gulf tribe. We must wait.”
Manx exhaled heavily. “Yes,” he whispered. “You’re right.” I could feel waves of frustration emanating off him, but he tried to compose himself. “Rest tonight, my princess. Dawn will come soon. In the morning, I’ll take you to Club Blue. And tomorrow night, after the ceremony, you will go to the cecaelia.”
“And what, exactly, will she do?”
Manx stroked his hand across my back. “In the bayou, they saw your tribal mark among the smoke and blood. The mamiwata advised our bonding. But the cecaelia knows the meaning of the tribal marks. We’ll soon learn what you are destined to do.”
“They are nothing more than patterns, shapes.”
“No. They are more. They are a vision of the future. If the prophecy is true, then I have the most powerful bride in the deep. What are you going to do with all that power, Ink?”
“Sleep,” I said jokingly, making Manx laugh.
“Then I will leave you to it, though I hate to go. Are you certain we can’t—”
“Good night, Manx.”
He nodded, and then begrudgingly left the room.
After he was gone, I went back out onto the balcony. Hal and the fishing vessel were long gone. I couldn’t sense him anywhere. Why had he come? What had he wanted to say?
The city of Miami was just waking up. I could hear the purr of car engines and boat motors. I looked at the dark waves slapping along the breakers and thought about my tribal. While we Atlantics put little stock in our marks, my mother once told me that they’d named me Ink because when I was born, tribal marks covered my whole body. They faded in the days after my birth, leaving only the mark on my back. Everyone said that as a newborn, I looked as though I’d been born into a cloud of ink. What news would the cecaelia have for an inked princess like me?
Chapter Eleven
Club Blue, a nightclub housed in a building that Manx described as an Art Deco masterpiece, sat along the strip in South Beach. While I had no interest in the human architecture, the third-floor office where Manx was meeting with two armed mermen had a fabulous view of the ocean just across the street. It was already midday, and the sun was high in the sky. I watched the scantily clad human women, over-muscular men, and sagging elderly humans moving across the beach. They were so excited to be by the ocean. It surprised me. I hadn’t known humans could love the sea as I did, could relish playing among the waves. It perplexed me. Humans were strange creatures. Those I’d ever gotten close to were usually doing something wretched to our world. These people, however, were not unlike us.
I touched the sun-warmed glass. The human children were so joyful, so happy to come to the seaside. They squealed with excitement, running along the surf on chubby little legs, laughing joyfully when the waves broke against them. Who knew humans were capable of such joy?
“Would you like to try coffee?” Pangi asked, pushing a cup of steaming black liquid toward me.
I shook my head. The smell of the liquid nauseated me, but the others seemed to have adapted. Pangi had been toting around a mug of the drink with her since she woke. Even Manx was sipping a cup, careful not to spill any on his crisp, white shirt.
“I’ll find you something else then,” Pangi said then drifted away. She seemed distracted.
My skin itched, and my whole body ached. I felt like I was drying out. In centuries past, mers used to spend more time on land. We interacted more freely among the humans. Now our movements were limited. It was decreed that we were safer under the waves. Maybe we’d done ourselves a disservice. Would it be better if we spent more time on land? I wasn’t so sure how I felt about it anymore.
I sat down at Manx’s desk. He was sitting on a couch across the room from me talking to the armed mermen in low, serious tones.
A moment later, Pangi returned. “Here you go,” she said, setting down the glass of water. “I’m going to go downstairs to the kitchens to bring you and Manx some breakfast.” In the bright sunlight, her hair looked even rosier than it had the night before.
Propping my elbows on the desk, I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes. The sunlight was giving me a headache. When I pulled my hands away, my elbows pushed some papers across Manx desk, causing the glass to wobble. I grabbed it, but not before some water spilled.
I looked up. Manx hadn’t noticed. Something told me he wouldn’t be pleased. I grabbed a napkin from a tray nearby and then started to clean up the water. Papers shifted from a closed folder to reveal a pile of photographs. All of the photos were of Hal. There were pictures of him coming in and out of a pink building, a neon blue sign noted the name of the place: Space Coast Billiards. They’d also taken pictures of him getting onto a motorcycle as well as one fuzzy photograph of him disappearing into a river half transformed. His eyes glimmered strangely in the image. Under the pictures, I spotted some very old documents and a crumbling map of the Indian River Lagoon near Cocoa Beach. Sections of the map had been highlighted. I picked up a black and white photo of a pier that extended out into the ocean. Underneath, the date 1962 had been noted alongside the word Oceanus.
“Find something interesting?” Manx asked, setting his hand on my shoulder. He took the photo from my hand and set it face down on the desk.
“I’m so sorry,” I said as sweetly as I could. “I spilled water on your desk. I was just cleaning it up when I spotted that old photo. Humans are so inventive, building piers just so they can be closer to the sea. Look how they all flock to the ocean,” I said,
motioning toward the humans on the beach outside, moving Manx’s attention away from the photo of Hal. “They don’t even know what lies at the heart of the deep.” I looked up at him and smiled. I could tell by the expression on his face that I had pulled it off.
“Let them stay blind. All the better for us.” Manx kissed the back of my head then turned to reorganize his desk, sliding the photos of Hal back into the folder. He handed me the glass of water. “You must be very thirsty.”
“Thank you.” Why did Manx have photos of Hal? What the hell was going on? “Who were those men?” I asked, casting a glance at the armed mermen who were, their meeting adjourned, leaving.
“My guards. Gulf mermen I trust. They are tracking down our renegade mers. At least half of the suffocators have suddenly gone missing.”
“How do you know they are renegade? What if something terrible has happened to them?”
Manx raised an eyebrow. He wore an expression that told me he hadn’t expected me to ask questions. “We’ve had reports. Some of them have been spotted…well, where they should not be. Our people need stronger leadership, leadership we—you and I—must bring. We need to change our ways, come out of the sea, and recapture our power on land. No more hiding under the deep. It’s time for the sharks to come out of the water.” Manx was staring off in the distance, a worrisome glimmer in his eyes. He then took hold of my arms and looked into my eyes, his eyes bulging wide as he stared at me with such intensity it made me nervous. “You’ll help me. The mamiwata said you have great power. Whatever it is, you will use your power to help me. We will rule over the humans, and more…so much more.”
“Manx? Ink? I have breakfast,” Pangi called with a singsong as she entered the room carrying a large tray. “Scottish salmon, Ink. You’ll actually like it, I hope.”
Manx let me go. I realized then that he’d been squeezing my arms so tightly that they’d started to bruise.
Shaking off the strange zeal that had taken over him, Manx crossed the room to meet Pangi. “Looks beautiful,” he said, examining the tray. “Come eat, my mermaid. The clock is ticking, and you have a big day.” Pangi set the tray down on the table and Manx dropped himself into a seat.
I looked at his desk to see one photo of Hal lying forgotten on the desktop. The photo had been taken at night. He was standing outside Space Coast Billiards. He was smoking a cigarette, the red flame illuminating his handsome face. I picked up the photograph and stuffed it into my pocket. I then plastered on a fake smile and went to eat breakfast with my fiancé, a man whose wild eyes and words worried me to the depth of my soul.
Chapter Twelve
In the Atlantic, a bonding ceremony takes place in the king’s grotto. His Majesty says a few words of blessing on to the couple, they exchange the symbolic marriage shells, and the bonding is complete. In my great-great-grandfather’s day, however, the acolytes of the Great Mother Ocean presided over the holy affair. After King Tricus had decimated the temples in his fit of rage, the ceremony had gone from being a spiritual one to a matter of state. The bonding ceremony that was waiting for me, however, was nothing of either sort.
About midday, Manx had loaded Pangi and me, and four Gulf mermen guards, into his Cadillac SUV and sent me back to the villa to change for the event. The bonding ceremony would be held at Club Blue. I would become a bonded mermaid and queen of the Gulfs while standing on two legs. This was not how I’d ever envisioned such a special day. But, then again, nothing about my bonding was as I wished. When I imagined who I would wed, I’d never imagined someone like Manx. I’d never really romanticized much over who my bonded partner would be, but when I did, I’d always seen myself with someone more like Hal.
I lifted the nagual’s photograph and stared at it once more, my eyes taking in every line on his face. Looking at him was making me feel even more trapped. Creon had sold me into this arrangement to advance his own power. His niece would rule the Gulfs. The Gulfs would owe Creon for the refuge he was offering and would owe me their allegiance. Creon would have the Gulfs in his hands. I had become a puppet. Now Manx would try to shake the truth from me, using the cecaelia to discover my gift. And then what? Would he have me use siren song against humans? On the freshwater mers? On the naguals? I stroked my hand across the photo, touching Hal’s face. Mere hours after my heart was awoken by someone I had no hope of ever loving, they’d traded me off.
“How does it fit?” Pangi called. “Don’t you love it? The color reminded me of your tail.”
I stared into the mirror. Pangi had selected me a sequin, aquamarine-colored gown for my bonding ceremony. She’d already neatly braided my dark hair, curling the dark streaks of blue and magenta, pinning my locks at the back with a sand dollar adornment.
“It looks…great,” I said. I did look striking, but it hardly mattered.
For a minute, Pangi was quiet. “Ink, I know you are nervous, but we need to get going.”
I looked down at Hal’s picture again, folded it, then slid it into my sequin bag. Sighing, I rose and opened the door.
“Wow,” Pangi said. “You look beautiful!”
Despite my own frustrations, I didn’t want Pangi to feel bad. She had selected a nice gown. “Thank you. It was a lovely choice.”
The lovely mermaid, who was dressed in a rose-colored gown that matched the hue of her hair, smiled. “Let’s go.”
Walking clumsily in a pair of sparkly silver heels, which Pangi said were “not that high,” I followed her out of the house to the waiting SUV. I couldn’t help but notice that Manx’s guards seemed to be on alert. Their weapons were drawn.
“Is there a problem?” I asked the merman guard who opened the door for me.
“No, My queen. We're just cautious.”
My queen? “Why?”
The merman shifted uncomfortably. Not answering me, he helped me into the vehicle and shut the door behind me.
I cast a glance at Pangi who was chewing on her fingernail and looking out the window. “Do you know why they are on alert?” I whispered to her.
She shrugged and shook her head, but the expression on her face betrayed her. Something was afoot, and Pangi knew, or at least suspected, what.
The vehicle pulled out of the driveway and headed across town to South Beach. I wondered then about Roald and the suffocators. What, exactly, was happening? Roald had said they would come for me soon. Who were they? The only one who seemed, thus far, intent on having me was Manx. But his reasons for that were clear. He’d bought his people a home and through me, he thought he’d bought himself a weapon. But I also remembered the expression on Hal’s face the night before. What had he wanted to say? Why had he come?
I sighed deeply and slumped back in my seat. The SUV moved down the busy streets, the glowing orange lamp lights illuminating the inside of the vehicle. The tall, silver-hued skyscrapers rose overhead. It was another hot night, the air sticky and humid. When we finally reached South Beach, the place was alive with people. The neon lights on the buildings illuminated the streets where smartly dressed men and women headed off to clubs and restaurants. The city street was alive with opalescent color and thumping music.
We parked in the reserved spot for Club Blue. Manx’s guards opened the door to the SUV and helped Pangi and me out. The club, usually open to humans, had a sign out front stating the place was closed for a private event. I felt the eyes of a group of human men on Pangi and me as we made our way inside. Flicking my eyes toward them for just a moment, I could see they were staring at us. It was a strange feeling. I knew that human males couldn’t resist our mermaid charms. They were instinctually drawn to our beauty, but I never imagined I would cast that much allure.
The armed mermen opened the door and ushered us inside. Therein, I found many of the same revelers I’d seen the previous night. This time, however, everyone was dressed in their finest. The assembled group of mermen and mermaids looked stunning. Gold, diamonds, gems, and sparkling gowns twinkled under the Club’s lights. Once again, they wer
e drinking and dancing, the music blaring loudly. They let out a loud cheer when I entered.
Was this how I would wed? Was this the scene of my bonding ceremony? I cringed at the thought of it. Not two hundred years ago such ceremonies had been conducted in the most sacred places in the ocean, calling the spirit of the Great Mother Ocean to bless the bonding. Would I be bound under the glare of strobe lights?
Manx crossed the room and joined us. “My beautiful queen,” he said, kissing my hand. “You are a vision. Come. We will dine before the ceremony begins. They have a feast laid out for us…literally,” he said with a laugh. “Have you ever heard of nyotaimori?”
Puzzled, I shook my head.
“You’ll love it,” he replied then led me by the hand to an alcove where dinner waited. “Pour the champagne,” Manx called to a mermaid attendant then motioned toward the dining table. “Your feast, my bonded one.”
I was shocked when I looked at the table to see a human woman lying there, her breasts fully exposed, her body covered with cuts of raw fish and sushi. “Is this a joke?” I asked.
Manx laughed out loud. It was then that I realized that he was already intoxicated, if not under the influence of other illicit substances. Clearly, he too enjoyed the pursuit of human pleasures. From the look of his wild eyes and erratic movements, he was flying. He leaned over the woman and inhaled deeply. “I smell the sea. Just like back home,” he said.
“Is she…” I didn’t know what. She looked like she could be dead.
“Stoned out of her mind,” one of the mermen guards said then as he gently trailed his finger around the girl’s nipple. “Pretty though. Can I have dessert?” the guard asked Manx with a laugh.
A beautiful Gulf mermaid returned carrying a tray of champagne glasses. “My queen,” she said, handing a glass to me.
She curtsied politely to Manx, handed him a glass, and then left.
“Drink,” Manx encouraged me.