by Erin Hayes
I lifted the glass to my mouth. The effervescence tickled my nose. I smelled the sharp scent of grapes. I pretended to drink while Manx turned away. I set the drink down.
Manx leaned over, licked one of the morsels off the girl’s stomach, and then nodded to his man. “After we’re done. Let me see if I can tempt my bride. Will you eat, my mermaid?” he asked me.
I looked at the woman. Her eyes were closed. Her long, dark hair fanned out all around her. “I…” I began, then shook my head. “I don’t want to mess up my dress,” I lied. Disgust and rage racked me, and from somewhere deep inside me, I started to hear a low, hollow sound. The rage began rippling upward. My back tingled, and I heard a tune echoing through my mind. It was all I could do to cage the sound.
“Have it your way then,” Manx said with a laugh then lifted a cut piece of tuna from between the girl’s legs, popping it into his mouth. “The sooner we complete the ceremony, the better. Let’s get this done so we can go meet the cecaelia then go back home for some real fun,” Manx said then took me by the arm, leading me onto the dance floor. He motioned for someone to turn off the music then bowed to a man standing near the back of the room. I had not seen him at first. The merman blended into the shadows. When Manx motioned to him, he came forward. The man had long, dark dreadlocks that trailed down his back. He was wearing a black robe adorned with bones, shells, and feathers.
“What is this?” I whispered to Manx.
“My priest,” Manx replied. “He will perform our ceremony.”
I cast Pangi a worried glance, but her face was blank. She would not meet my eyes. I then glimpsed around the room. Most of the mers assembled were Gulfs. I recognized only a few Atlantic faces in the room, very few. I hadn’t expected Creon to be there, but perhaps Seaton or Roald? Maybe one of my old companions? Instead, I saw Atlantic mers who I hardly remembered. Where were my people?
“Princess,” the Gulf priest said, bowing to me.
“What is your name, merman?”
“I am called Legba.”
I eyed the man carefully. He had that air about him that those close to the spirit world often carried. I exhaled deeply, uttering the lowest of hums from the back of my throat, and tried to feel the vibration around him. It was chaotic and dark. Before he noticed, I pulled my energy back.
“We are ready,” Manx said then turned to me. “Just follow my lead,” he added, taking my hands. Manx and I stood face-to-face while the assembled mers watched on. Legba stood before Manx and me.
From inside his robes, Legba pulled out a turtle shell rattle. He shook it, silencing the crowd. The sound filled the air with a strange vibration that set me on edge. “Let Mother Night make her watch, and the old ones bless this pair,” Legba called. “Who bears witness? Who will attest to this bonding?” he asked.
“We will,” the Gulfs called.
“Manx of the slow waters, name your bonded one,” Legba said.
“I name Ink of the Atlantic.”
“Ink of the fathomless deep, name your bonded one,” Legba commanded me.
Everything inside me rebelled. This was not what I wanted. I imagined my father and mother watching this fiasco from the spirit world, abhorred at what they were seeing. Was this right? Was this really happening? I didn’t want this. For a second, the memory of Hal with the sunlight shining down on him flickered through my mind. It didn’t matter. Nothing I wanted mattered. I had to do this for my tribe. “Manx,” I whispered.
“The princess calls her king,” Legba confirmed. The man motioned for someone to bring forward a table upon which he set an abalone shell.
“Tell it to the rivers, lakes, and oceans,” Legba said then reached for Manx’s hand which he gave over willingly. Legba pulled a knife from his belt and cut a line down Manx’s palm. He turned the king’s hand so the blood dripped into the shell.
Legba reached for my hand. Sensing my nervousness, he nodded kindly at me. “Tell it to the streams, the waves, and the sea,” he said then cut me quickly.
I harnessed in my body’s reaction. My blood dripped into the shell.
“Old enemies, your blood is now mixed, your blood is now one,” Legba said, lifting the shell which contained our intermixed blood. “The past is dead. With blood comes new life. Ink and Manx, now you are one. Bonded. King and queen. Turn and face your court,” Legba said, motioning to the mers assembled behind us.
“My queen,” Manx said, reaching for my good hand.
I placed my hand in his. My knees felt weak. Following Manx’s lead, I bowed before the crowd which erupted in cheer. I looked at Manx, who leaned in and kissed me. When he pulled back, he whispered, “my bride.” The finality of the situation settled in on me. I was now Manx’s bonded one, queen of the Gulfs, and that night, I would have to give myself to him. At the thought of it, it was all I could do to keep myself from sounding a note to kill every living creature in the room.
Chapter Thirteen
The evening air was perfumed with flowers and the scent of wet earth. We wove down a narrow dirt road through the Everglades on our way to meet the cecaelia. Outside, the frogs, crickets, and birds created a fantastic chorus of noise. I stuck my hand out the window to feel the warm air. The humidity made my skin feel dewy. I looked up at the stars. They looked much the same over land as they did at sea. The wetlands around me shimmered silver in the moonlight. Florida was such a wet place. It was no wonder our kind had once felt comfortable to come and go as we pleased between land and sea. Florida was little more than a mottled mess of islands.
After more than an hour’s drive, we pulled into the parking lot of a dilapidated tavern. The sign overhead, in twinkling neon lights, read The Drunken Mermaid. An illuminated mermaid, her nipples illuminated by red lightbulbs that flashed on and off, was poised above the door. A sign read Live Mermaid Shows.
“What is a live mermaid show?” I asked as we crossed the parking lot.
The mermen guards laughed.
“You’ll see,” Manx told me with a grin.
I raised an eyebrow at Pangi, but she seemed distracted. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just…I got a little car sick. How about you? Are you okay? What a night, right?”
I nodded. What could I say? I was now Manx’s bonded one, queen of the Gulfs. It was done. What a night indeed.
One of the guards pushed open the door to the tavern. Two guards stayed outside, their weapons drawn, while two others entered the tavern with us. Taking my hand, which Pangi had dutifully bandaged after the bonding ceremony, Manx led me inside.
The place had a slightly rancid smell, not unlike the scent of Club Blue. The tavern was very dark. The bar was lined with a dozen glassy-eyed men. Some of them stared absently into their drinks while others sat looking at the large glass wall behind the bar. It was an enormous aquarium. Inside, a girl dressed in a red halter top and a plastic mermaid tail swam to thudding rock music. Holding her breath, she spun and shimmied, her dark hair making a halo around her. This, apparently, was the live mermaid show.
The “mermaid” signaled to the bartender who went down the line collecting dollars in a basket. After he’d made a haul, he showed it to the girl who winked at the men, blew them a kiss, and then pulled off her top. She pressed her breasts against the glass. The men, at least those who weren’t lost in the haze of alcohol, cheered with delight.
“Gross,” Pangi muttered under her breath.
Manx led us to the back. In the corner of the tavern, half hidden in darkness, I saw a woman sitting alone at a table. She was smoking a cigarette and watching us carefully as we crossed the room. She had long white hair. Her skin was dark, her lips red. She nodded to Manx then motioned for me to come forward.
“Go ahead, Ink,” Manx said then turned to Pangi. “Let’s get a drink.” Leaving the guards standing post not too far from me, Manx went to the aquarium wall and tapped on the glass. The “mermaid” swam to him, did an underwater flip, and then blew him a kiss. He laughed loudly and shoo
k his head in amusement. He motioned to Pangi to follow him.
“Come, Ink,” the cecaelia called. “You don’t need to be afraid.”
I was getting tired of people telling me what I should and shouldn’t fear. I crossed the room and came to stand before her. “My Lady,” I said respectfully, inclining my head toward her.
She laughed, nodded her head to me, and then motioned for me to sit beside her. “I like your manners,” she said then added, “but I expected no less from the daughter of Dauphin and Coral. Your parents had none of the ingrained snobberies Creon feels toward my kind. It was they who sought to protect the last of us. Did you know that?”
I shook my head then took a seat beside her.
The cecaelia gazed at Manx. “The Gulfs find me useful, but I only tell them what they want to hear. Otherwise, they’d have no patience with me either. They like for me to read their marks, tell them their fate. They’re believers. Now you are their queen. But what about you, my dear? Do you believe your destiny lies in your tribal mark?”
Her frankness caught me off guard. “I don’t know.”
“Well, let’s see this legendary mark of yours. Your mother once told me that you were born with marks all over your body, but they faded after a time.”
“That’s why they named me Ink.”
“Indeed it is. She asked me what it meant. I told her that it meant you were special.”
“And were you just telling her what she wanted to hear?”
The cecaelia laughed. “I like your wit as well, princess.” With gentle hands, the cecaelia helped me turn in my seat. She moved the hair away from my back and uttered a low “hum” as her finger traced the marks on my back. It sent a shiver down my spine.
“How did you learn to read tribal marks?” I asked her.
“In your grotto, princess, very long ago. My kind lives much longer than yours, you know. I was there during Princess Tigonea’s uprising. We lived among you in those days, when mers sang the song of the siren. After Tigonea’s ruse, we were thrust out of the grotto, my kind and so many others. The Atlantic king’s scouts hunted us to the edge of extinction. But not just us, all creatures who were not Atlantic mers, including the naguals.”
I could hear the bait in her voice. I wasn’t biting. “Why did they try to eliminate you?”
“We sought to help the princess. There is a prophecy, you know, about an Atlantic princess who will rise in power. We backed Tigonea because we thought she was the one,” the cecaelia said then let go of my hair and leaned back. “But she wasn’t. You know, you have her eyes.”
I smiled at her. Cecaelias had a reputation as tricksters, and I knew she was toying with me. In a way, it was fun to tangle with her, but I had a serious question for the seer. “And what do you see now?”
The cecaelia leaned in closely. “Oh, you’d like me be honest, would you? I can respect that. The lies from all of those around you must batter against you like waves. Mermen are playing games,” she said then lifted her drink and tipped it toward Manx who was flirting with the “mermaid” who was now sitting on a barstool wrapped in a towel. “Your king wants what is not his. But his heart is in the right place, on that matter at least.”
“Oceanus? The Indian River Lagoon?”
The cecaelia lifted her cigarette, inhaled, and then nodded. “His people need a home. It is unfortunate, however, that Oceanus is already inhabited.”
“By the freshwater mers.”
“What is left of them. Of course, that’s nothing a little genocide can’t solve. In that matter, your king’s heart is…misplaced.”
“What can I do?”
“Oh, my dear,” she said, then took another sip of her drink, “if only it was so simple.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”
“Your father swore to protect Oceanus’ residents. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“And how do you know that?” It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at me.
She had me. I smirked at her. I don’t know how she knew, but she knew.
“Honor your father’s promise…any way you can. It will not be easy. Not now. Not after tonight. But you must protect the innocent. You will, won’t you?”
“I will try.”
“No,” the cecaelia said as she rose. “No. You must. Any way you can. Let your heart guide you.”
Her words puzzled me. I was about to question her further when I heard a strange sound coming from the parking lot. Beyond belief, it was the sound of gunfire.
“Now it begins. Our hope lies in you,” the cecaelia said.
I turned to look back at Manx. A moment later, a group of men I recognized, suffocators who worked for Creon, entered, their guns blazing. With a quick blast, they took out the drunken humans. I heard a sharp wail as the pretty faux mermaid took a gunshot to the stomach. She crumpled to the floor, red blood pooling around her. Manx pulled a gun from his belt as one of the suffocators took aim at him. He shot the man between the eyes.
“Ink! Get down,” he called to me. He and his guards shot back, a firefight consuming the place.
I turned back in time to see the cecaelia morph into her half-octopus form. With her eight sticky black legs, she climbed up the side of the mermaid tank then lowered herself into the aquarium. She motioned toward the back door then disappeared down, out of sight.
“Pangi,” I called to the mermaid who was huddling under the table nearby as the two groups of mermen shot at one another. “This way!”
Pangi looked terrified, but finally, she came with me, moving as best she could in high heels. She skidded over the shards of glass then headed with me toward the back door. I pushed the door open.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Manx?” she asked.
“Let’s get to the SUV,” I replied, but the moment we turned the corner toward the parking lot, I saw what looked like a war zone. Manx’s guards had taken position behind a car and were shooting at a group of suffocators. Several bodies, both human and mer, lay in the parking lot.
“There,” I heard one of the suffocators yell. “There she is!” The merman, whom I’d seen several times at Creon’s side, raised his gun and fired at Pangi and me.
Moving quickly, I pulled Pangi behind a truck. The door to the bar clapped open followed by more gunshots. I peered through the car window to see Manx and his guards taking aim at the suffocators. Two of Manx’s mermen already lay dead, the suffocators dropping in equal numbers. I scanned the group for Roald. He wasn’t there nor were the two suffocators I’d seen with him at my welcome party. But I did recognize Creon’s men.
“Those are the king’s mermen! He must have sent them after Manx…after me!”
Pangi, who had a cut on her forehead, sat shaking and clutching her bag. She didn’t say a word.
“We need to find a way out of here. I think we can make it to the SUV. Come on,” I said. Grabbing her hand, I started weaving among the vehicles.
I scanned the parking lot and was shocked to see that all of Manx’s guards had been killed. Manx was trapped in the foyer of the bar. Creon’s suffocators fared no better. From what I could tell, there was only one still standing. The parking lot was littered with bodies. Pangi and I had just reached the SUV when I saw Manx step out to shoot the last of Creon’s men. The merman fell to the ground.
“Ink,” he called. “My queen!” He turned and rushed toward Pangi and me. I moved to meet him, crossing the parking lot toward him.
“Manx, are you hurt?” I called.
He shook his head. He had a sharp cut down the side of his face, but otherwise, he looked okay. “We need to get out of here—” he started to say when I heard a gunshot…from behind me.
Seconds later, blood blossomed across Manx’s chest. It stained his white shirt. He froze.
In disbelief, I turned and looked behind me to see Pangi holding a gun.
Manx dropped to the ground. He still wore a shocked expression, but the light in his gre
en-blue eyes had already started to go dim. I kneeled beside him and collected him into my arms. He shuddered hard, blood erupting from between his lips, and reached out for me. “Creon,” he whispered, then those striking eyes went dim.
“Manx?” I whispered.
“I told you not to trust anyone,” Pangi said.
The king of the Gulfs was gone. He had died in my arms. I stared at Pangi. “Why?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Because there can only be one ruler in Florida, and it’s not that piece of shit,” she said, motioning to Manx. “That’s for my grandfather, you blood-thirsty Gulf,” she spat at the dead merman. “I’m sure you understand. You saw what he was. The Gulfs decimated my family too. But…I’m sorry, Ink. It’s nothing personal, but it can’t be you either. You’re queen of the Gulfs now. And, well, I can’t let that happen, not if I’m going to be Creon’s queen,” she said then lifted her weapon once more and aimed at me.
“No, Pangi! Wait,” I called, but then I heard the loud echo of a gunshot. There was a strange moment, seemingly suspended in time, as I waited for the killing blow that ultimately didn’t come. On the contrary, Pangi staggered forward, looking surprised, a bullet hole between her eyes. A moment later, she dropped to her knees, blood trickling from her wound. She tumbled over in the dirt.
A wave of comforting vibration cascaded over me. I turned and looked behind me. Slipping his weapon back into its holster, Hal stepped out of the shadows. His green eyes glimmered in the moonlight. Without a word, he beckoned to me. Without hesitation, I followed.
Chapter Fourteen
I sat wiping blood off my arms as we drove away from the Everglades, Miami, and the incomprehensible, bloody scene. Hal stayed quiet as I stared out the window and tried to process what had happened. This had all been orchestrated by Creon. He’d bonded me to Manx, making me the queen of the Gulfs, as a play for power. The Gulf and Atlantics were now locked in bonds and blood. Creon would frame our deaths on the renegade suffocators. He’d set it up so easily, playing the Gulfs’ weaknesses. Now he would step in to protect them. Manx had no brothers. The Gulfs’ line was dead. Creon had gambled big, hoping to win it all, but he had not anticipated the interference of Hal. I was supposed to be dead. Creon’s poor sweet mermaid niece, murdered by renegade suffocators. It would have been a terrible tragedy.