Mermaid Fins, Winds & Rolling Pins

by Erin Johnson

  I laughed.

  Hank kicked his long legs as he held my hands. He looked up, deep in thought. "It's like… it's like doing something creative. I know you know what that's like, with baking."

  I nodded. "It was kind of my only creative outlet."

  He looked at me curiously. "Really? But you learn so quickly and are so passionate—I bet there're loads of things you're great at."

  I shrugged.

  "You don't play any musical instruments? Or paint? Or play sports?"

  I shook my head and sighed. I popped up to sit on the table beside him. I wrapped my ankles together. "My adoptive family wasn't the most—into hobbies. They like watching football—I never got too into that myself. And as for other things—I was interested, but my adoptive parents always shut it down."

  He bumped my shoulder. "What do you mean?"

  "Well." I sighed. "Pretty much anything I was into, they steered me away from. They're very—how to put it, mellow people. And if I got too excited or enthusiastic, they looked at me like—" I gave a hollow laugh. "Like I was going to light someone's hair on fire. The only thing that stuck was baking—maybe because it was so domestic and my adoptive mom and I could do it together."

  I shook my head, suddenly feeling the need to get out of this small, warm room. "Then again, they never really supported that, either. I'd make muffins, for instance, and by the next morning, they'd all be gone. They always said they were so good, they ate them all, which I thought was strange, but sweet. Then one night, in middle school, I got up from bed to get a glass of water and caught my adoptive mom dumping them all in the trash."

  Hank's brow furrowed. "You always say your adoptive parents were good to you. That you just felt distant from them." He looked up, his face hard. "But what you're describing is terrible."

  I tried to shrug it off.

  Hank inhaled sharply and stilled. "That's exactly what my parents tried when I first showed my powers." He turned to fully face me. "My powers came in outbursts if I got too excited about something, so my parents steered me away from pretty much anything that I showed interest in. Imogen, your—"

  The realization turned my stomach and filled me with a rage that had my hands shaking. I pushed off the table and stood. "My adoptive parents knew!" I stalked toward the far wall. "Oh my God, they knew I had powers." I turned wide-eyed to Hank. "They knew I had powers and they were scared so—so they kept me from—oh my God!"

  I stalked back the other way. "They kept me from doing anything I enjoyed, basically, except for baking." I stopped to shake a finger at Hank. "And that was probably only because my adoptive mom could keep an eye on me and keep me from getting"—I made air quotes—"out of hand." I drove my fingers into my hair and paced again. "Oh my God!"

  I clenched my fists and the fire in the fireplace roared, flames licking out over the mantle. I turned back to Hank. "They worked my whole life to suppress who I truly am. They lied to me, my whole life. No wonder I never felt close to them!"

  My hands trembled as I stood there. My chest heaved and my mind raced. I wanted to punch something or smash something or—or get some answers from my adoptive mom. "I need a telephone!"

  I marched out of the alcove and strode across the mosaic tiled floor. Hank jogged up beside me. "There aren't any on Bijou Mer."

  I stopped dead to face him. "Seriously?"

  He nodded.

  I bit my lip. On the mainland maybe? An idea occurred to me and I straightened. "We have to get to the mainland, to St. Rael. I know a lady there, an innkeeper. She has a phone."

  Hank gulped, but gave me a tight nod. "The tide's rising. We have to hurry."

  27

  Family History

  The second the ferry bumped against the dock on the mainland side, I hopped the low divider, Hank right behind me.

  "Hey! Wait!"

  I ignored the shouts from the human ferryman. I might've listened if it'd been Charlie—Hank had sent a magic telegram ahead and he'd been kind enough to hold the ferry for us. I dashed down the long cobblestone lane, marshy reeds rising up along each side.

  Deep purples and blues stained the sky as the sun dipped out of sight behind the horizon. We burst into the main square of St. Rael—all fifteen or so buildings—and I headed left. I spotted the hanging sign for the Caving Cottage Inn, and Lois sitting on the second-story balcony above it.

  She'd gathered her wiry gray hair into a messy bun on top of her head and had a glass of white wine in a frosty glass in her hand. As we approached, the big white dog at her feet lifted its shaggy head and gave a gentle, "Woof!"

  Lois looked our way. When she spotted me, her eyes narrowed. "Well. Look who it is." Her Scottish brogue did nothing to soften her angry tone.

  Hank shot me a worried look and I gulped. I lifted a hand to shoulder height. "Hey, Lois. You remember me?"

  She scoffed and went back to watching the sunset. "I remember you gave me quite the scare when you didn't return to your lodgings—despite my repeated warnings not to stay on that cursed island past sundown." She glanced over and her eyes locked onto Hank. "Psh. He's probably one of them, ain't he?" A gust of wind rustled the tendrils of curly hair that framed her face. "Well." She cleared her throat. "What do ya want then?"

  "I—uh, I need to use your phone."

  She crossed her arms. "What for?"

  "I need to call my adop—my mom."

  She rolled her dark eyes and swallowed the rest of her wine in one gulp. "Well—that's a good excuse, anyway. I'll be down."

  Hank glanced over his shoulder towards Bijou Mer, the tide fully risen now. He lifted a long finger. "We also need a couple of rooms for the night."

  I jumped. How had I not thought of that? I turned to Hank. "We can't—magic back somehow?"

  Lois's eyes widened. "Did you say magic?"

  I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. "What? Of course not. Ha. Psh, magic."

  I turned back to Hank, but he shook his head. He leaned closer and dropped his voice. His breath on my neck gave me goose bumps. "No. The ferry won't take us—the water's enchanted to prevent it."

  "Couldn't we swim back—as mermaids?"

  He grinned. "We could. But they have guards posted watching this shore. We'd be accosted and shown to the palace to explain our unauthorized trip to the mermaid kingdom, and then we'd probably get roped into a night with Winnie and—"

  I held up a hand and grinned. "Say no more. As fun as that was, I've apparently turned into an old lady and cannot handle another night out at the club."

  Hank sighed. "I'm so glad you said that. Me, neither. I didn't want you to think I was a crusty old crustacean."

  I giggled. "A what?"

  "Are you two done?" Lois stood, hands on hips, glaring down at us. "Do you need rooms or not?"

  Hank and I glanced at each other, then at Lois and nodded.

  "Fine. But mine are all booked except for the attic room."

  Nerves turned in my stomach. One room? Only? I risked a glance at Hank. He remained still, though his eyes grew large. He nodded at Lois. "Thank you—we'll take it. Do you have a cot or—"

  "There's a couch in there you can sleep on, though I don' know why you wouldn't want to sleep next to a beautiful young thing like her." She turned without another word and went into the crooked old inn with her dog on her heels. It wasn’t like I was opposed to sharing a room with him; it's just that we hadn't talked about it before and everything was so new. Hank and I stood in awkward silence until she opened the front door for us and waved us in. We followed her through the empty lobby, past the dining room, and through a tall door into the kitchen.

  "Phone's there on the wall—keep it short, I ain't made of money."

  She left Hank and me alone. He had to duck, the ceiling hung so low—even lower with the big wood beams that spanned the length of it. Pans and flowerpots dangled from the beams, and a wooden island occupied the center of the room. I dialed my home number on the red phone mounted to the wall, and Hank pus
hed a wooden stool over for me to sit on. I smiled. "Thanks."

  He thumbed toward the dining room. "Do you want privacy? I can—"

  I shook my head and held a hand over the receiver. "Will you stay?"

  He grinned. "Of course." He pulled a stool up beside me.

  I waited for one ring—two—three—and then, CLICK.

  "Hello. Banks residence."

  My mouth went dry. I licked my lips. "Hey. It's me—Imogen."

  "Oh! Imogen." My adoptive mom's voice quieted as she called to my adoptive dad. I could picture him on the couch in front of the TV, the newspaper in his hands. "Rob, it's Imogen." Her voice came louder again. "Your father says hello. How are you, dear? Are you still in—uh, Europe, was it? Your email was so cryptic."

  A couple of months ago I'd emailed my family to let them know I was leaving for France—hadn't given them a ton of details though. I'd felt bad about it at the time, but I was too angry to care at this point.

  "France. Listen, I have to ask you something."

  "Oh my. This sounds serious. Let me get my glasses."

  I rolled my eyes. Why would she need glasses for a phone conversation? But—urg, whatever.

  "Okay. Ready."

  Now that it came to saying it out loud, I hesitated. "Did you—have you—" I sighed, and Hank gave me an encouraging nod. I took a breath and started over. "I have magical powers—I'm a witch. I just found this out."

  Silence met me on the other end.

  "Did you know?" My stomach clenched tight as I waited for her response.

  "Oh dear. So you found out, hm?"

  I froze, the world whirling around me.

  "Breathe." Hank took my free hand.

  I looked up and inhaled, realizing at that moment that I'd been holding my breath. So many emotions crashed around inside me—betrayal, hurt, curiosity, anger—a lot of anger.

  "Yeah, I found out! Why did you keep that from me? How could you, Mom? If that is your real name!"

  "Oh, keep your voice down, dear. And you know it's not, it's just what you and your sister call me. You know my name's Nancy. Anyway… I—well, the lady who sold you to us—"

  I pressed my eyes shut. "Let me stop you there. The lady who sold me to you? You bought me? Like—oh, I'll take a couple oranges, and a loaf of bread, and hey—why don't you throw in a human child?"

  "Calm down. Not for very much, honey."

  I opened my eyes and mouth wide at Hank. He shook his head and mouthed, "Wow."

  "How is that supposed to make me feel better? Gee, glad you got a discount."

  "I just meant, it was more of a donation—she looked like she had fallen on hard times. Do you want to know what I was going to say or not?"

  I gritted my teeth together. "Fine."

  "She said that you had special powers and to keep you from using them, for your own safety."

  "What? Why? Why would she say that?"

  "I'm not sure, dear. We didn't think much of it at the time, just thought she was a kooky old gypsy."

  "A gypsy? You bought me from a gypsy?" This just kept getting better.

  "Anyway, as you got older though, we realized she'd been telling the truth."

  I gasped for air. "You've seen me do magic? As a kid?"

  "It started when you were still a baby. It'd come out when you got excited about something, or as you got older, when you did something creative. The old lady had said it was for your safety, and we wanted you to be safe, so we just… tried to limit stimulation."

  "Oh my God! You kept me from being creative or happy or enthusiastic? My whole life?" I clenched the phone, hard. "No wonder I've had trouble accessing my magic." I shook my head. "What else did she say, the old woman? What did she look like? Did she say what happened to my parents? Or where I'm from?"

  My adoptive mom clicked her tongue. "Now let me think just a minute. This was a long time ago." Her voice grew quieter. "Rob—remember that old gypsy we bought Imogen from? Do you remember her saying anything?" A pause followed. "I told her about the powers thing—anything else?"

  Hank squeezed my hand and I was grateful that he sat beside me. I didn't think I could face this conversation alone.

  "Oh, that's right. It's not very good, I'm afraid."

  The knot in my stomach tightened. Hank scooted closer. "Tell me."

  "Well, she said that your family had died."

  My stomach sank.

  "In some kind of attack—on, what was it? Rob, do you remember? It was something like Creature Hill or Monster Mound or…."

  I froze. "Monsters Rise?"

  "That's it! How'd you know? She said that Monsters Rise is where you're from."

  28

  A Quiet Night

  After I hung up the phone, I sat very still for a long time. Hank sat beside me, an arm around my shoulders and his other hand holding mine. I felt numb. And speechless. And grateful that Hank wasn't asking me any questions or trying to tell me that it was all right.

  Of course it was—I had Hank beside me. But the implications made my head spin. My family was dead—I'd always hoped to meet them, and that hope had grown more real once I'd discovered Bijou Mer and the magical kingdoms.

  They'd seemed more real—like I might run into my parents around any corner. But now I knew that I never would—and that was devastating. Not only that, but what was Horace's connection to Monsters Rise?

  Lois stomped into the kitchen with her dog, her face scrunched up. She opened her mouth to speak, but looked between me and Hank and then closed it again. She moved wordlessly to the sink, filled up a kettle, and a few minutes later handed me a cup of steaming herbal tea.

  "I put honey in it, so hopefully you like it. If not, tough titties."

  I nodded my thanks and took a sip. The warm, earthy tea grounded me a little, and I turned to Hank. "Have you heard of this—attack?"

  He shook his head. "No. But we'll keep looking till we learn everything we can."

  I leaned into him. "Thank you."

  He kissed my head and spoke against it. "Are you okay?"

  I sighed. "No. And yes. I will be. It's just a lot to take in."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'll heat up some leftover stew." Lois held the door open and gestured for us to head into the dining room. "You like stew? If not, there's nothing else to eat around here, so you'll have to suck it up."

  After a delicious dinner I felt more like myself. Hank and I did the dishes, and Lois said good night and tromped upstairs. We'd heard and seen no one else, and I began to wonder if her other rooms were really full. Not that I was about to complain about sharing one with Hank though.

  I led the way up the stairs to the room I'd slept in my first night in France. The stairs wound in a tight spiral and ended in a tiny landing, only big enough for one of us to stand on. I used the big iron key Lois had given us to unlock the door, and stepped inside. Hank ducked through the low doorway behind me.

  I grinned as I looked around at the small room with its iron bed frame and wardrobe in the corner. I moved to the dormer windows and pushed them open. A breeze swept in and rustled my red locks. Hank came and stood behind me. He wrapped his arms around me, and looked over my shoulder at the dark sea that stretched before us to Bijou Mer, an island of lights nestled between the black sea and the black sky. W

  hite lights glowed below the surface of the water. The first time I'd seen them, I'd wondered what they could be. Now I knew that those lights and the eerie, beautiful singing that drifted in the open window came from the mermaids.

  "I've never seen Bijou Mer like this before." Hank sighed. "It's beautiful."

  We stayed at the window for a while, until I opened my mouth wide in a yawn.

  "You're tired." Hank kissed the top of my head. "I'll make up my couch bed. Can I borrow a pillow?"

  I grinned and tossed him one. "You look ridiculously tall in here."

  "What?" He spread his arms wide and turned in a circle. "I can actually stand upright—it's pe
rfect."

  I chuckled. "Yeah, if you stand directly below the peaked roof."

  He waved a hand. "Naw. Look, it'll be great." He set the pillow down and rolled onto his back on the couch. The entire lower half of his legs, from his knees down, hung over the armrest on the other side.

  I climbed into the bed and waved him over, laughing. "You look miserable. Come on. I won't bite." Unless you want me to. "Your back will be killing you tomorrow if you sleep there."

  "No way. Honestly, I can't even feel my feet anymore—I'm sure my back will go numb soon, too."

  He grinned, and I chucked another pillow at him. "Get over here."

  He caught the pillow and hugged it to him. He grew serious. "Are you sure that's okay?"

  I nodded.

  Hank brought the pillows back and crawled into bed with me. We lay on our sides, looking at each other, the sea breeze still drifting through the open window. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm sorry for how things went with your adoptive mom tonight."

  I nodded.

  He gave me a tentative grin. "But to be honest, I'm glad we got stranded over here. There's nowhere I'd rather be, than here, with you."

  My whole body flushed with warm tingles and I leaned closer to him. He met me with a kiss, somehow passionate and tender and hungry all at once. His big hand twined through my hair, and I slid my hand up his back.

  ZZZ—zzzZZZ—hngGGnnhh—ZZZ.

  We stopped, our lips still touching. Hank broke into a grin as the incredibly loud snore drifted up to our room again. He laughed and pressed his forehead to mine.

  "One of the other guests?" he whispered.

  I snickered through my nose. "I don't think she actually has any other guests."

  He shook his head, his forehead still against mine. "Me neither."

  He took his hand from my cheek and snapped his fingers. The noise ceased instantly. "Sound dampening spell," he explained.

  Magic for the win! I pulled back to look at him. "But—isn't magic illegal in human lands without a special permit?"