Sea of Secrets Anthology

by J E Feldman

  “Poor kid. He looks nervous.” Moira leaned in, her eyes warm and concerned.

  “The lights are probably hot.” Even as he said it, Sean knew that wasn’t the issue.

  A shadow hovered over the comedian’s head, a palpable darkness with a beaked head and outstretched wings.

  Hecklers started jeering even before the young man stammered, “Good evening, I’m Dencan Dulaney. Uh, Duncan. Dunkin Da . . . , Da lay knee.” Stumbling over his own name was only the precursor of a cringeworthy monologue. With each lame joke, the jeers from the audience increased. With each failed wisecrack, the shadow behind him strengthened.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Sean tugged the collar of his shirt.

  She shook her head. “He needs encouragement. That would do the opposite.”

  The guy needed more than that. He needed a new schtick. Or a new career. Or better yet, a new location that wasn’t a cruise boat targeted by the Morrigan.

  Still, there might be a way to help him.

  Sean ran his thumb along the base of his claddagh ring, gathering fine tendrils of power.

  “Stop that. He’s mine.” The sibilant voice was so close to Sean’s ear he flinched.

  He darted a glance toward the sound, although he already knew what he’d see.

  Nothing.

  No one stood near, and no one sat even halfway close enough to have spoken those words to him.

  If he hadn’t seen the sinister slip of paper from the fortune cookie, felt the malevolent power that lay dormant within it, he’d have thought he was imagining things.

  But he wasn’t.

  What could he do? He was barely thirty years old, not an almost-immortal supernatural being. One magic ring does not a magic-wielder make.

  He spread his hands flat on the table, feeling his invisible power threads drop and dissolve as if they floated on his soft sigh of resignation.

  “Clever boy. Much cleverer than your father, may he rest in peace.”

  The kung pao chicken in Sean’s stomach threatened to take wing and fly north. He’d always wondered how his father, endowed with all the magic of royalty, a powerful Selkie in the prime of his strength, had drowned less than a quarter mile from shore.

  Now he knew.

  No wonder his mother, fragile and shrunken in widowhood, had urged him to keep a low profile. To meet Manannan on his tiny island, the one place where his realm jutted into human lands, and to skulk on strands and beaches around the globe on pollution patrol, but never to descend to the glittering underwater cities that were the center of the Kingdom of the Sea.

  Whatever his father had done to draw the wrath of the Morrigan, it had led to the near-destruction of his entire race.

  And now his dream vacation with the most beautiful girl on land and sea was turning into a nightmare.

  Moira rose from her chair, glad she’d opted to wear her glittery, strappy, impossibly high heels. They made her feel taller. Tall enough to be practically invincible. She tottered toward the stage, letting her hips sway with every stride. Basking in the glow of Sean’s admiration this past month had awakened in her an awareness of the power of femininity.

  Gathering that power around her like an invisible cloak, she held out her hand for the microphone. The young comedian practically threw it at her, offloading it as if it were radioactive.

  She spun to face the crowd, flicked her contemptuous gaze from one intoxicated guest to the next. “Give the kid a break. You came on this cruise to enjoy yourselves, relax, and have a good time. We all did. So don’t ruin it for the rest of us.”

  The jeering stopped as abruptly as it had started. Rustles and muffled coughs, throats cleared in embarrassment, and apologetic murmurs were the only noises in the room.

  Wow. She was used to fighting for the attention of entire classes full of high school students, but it had never been so easy to take control of a room before. This new adventure Sean had talked her into taking was turning into a real eye-opener.

  Moira proffered the mic to the comedian, giving him her warmest, most encouraging smile. “Back to you, Duncan. I’m sure you’ve got a great evening planned for us.”

  She settled into her seat, basking in the heady glow of personal satisfaction. “There. Now I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

  “Next ye’ll be singing karaoke with the headliner.” Sean scowled at her, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Excuse me?” She stared at him.

  “Everyone was watchin’ ye.”

  “Except you.” She hissed the words under her breath.

  The warmup guy handed off the show to the headliner, a sultry brunette wearing a bodycon dress comprised of strategically placed black feathers.

  Moira glanced at Sean. Even more remote than he’d been at dinner. his gaze was locked on the singer with the odd name.

  Treated like the Daughter of a king? She’d settle for having confidence in the ability to carry a tune without a bucket, like the woman on stage. Maybe then Sean would actually unbend enough to unlock the door that connected their two adjoining cabins.

  She scooted her chair a couple inches further away from him. Plunking her elbow on the table, she leaned her cheek onto her fist. Great evening this is shaping up to be. Wonder if I’ll die of boredom before it’s over?

  The stars glimmered, scintillating bright, above the deck. Moonlight turned clouds into opalescent fabric draped across the backdrop of an onyx sky. Seven floors down, the ocean lapped against the giant hull in phosphorescent waves and curled away in a v-shaped wake.

  Moira’s hand nestled in the crook of Sean's elbow, appreciating its steadiness. Up here, the boat’s rocking motion affected her balance more than in the hotel-like interior. “Hard to believe there’s a squall coming. It seems so peaceful.”

  “Like we're alone in the universe.” His voice, pitched low, rumbled in her ear like a bassoon, accompanied by an invisible orchestra composed of ship’s engine-tubas and the soft cymbal sounds of the water all around them.

  Moira tried to capture a lock of hair that kept escaping her casual updo before it fluttered into her mouth. “I've never seen the sky like this. I've always been so close to a city, or at least a major town, that only the brightest stars were visible.”

  “Beauty made invisible.” Sean whistled. “Or at least obscured.”

  “Doesn’t that mean something made it darker? This is more along the lines of washed out. Like a photograph that’s overexposed.” She leaned back, braced against the railing, and craned her neck to get a better look at the sky. “So much beauty above me every night and I never knew it.”

  Sean slid his hand to cup under her chin. “So much beauty in the world.” His lips brushed hers.

  The door from a nearby staircase flew open. A figure darted out.

  “Guess we're not as alone as we thought.” Sean eased away from Moira as the person ran along the deck, navigating the narrow section of passageway between the bridge and the railing, squeezing past deck chairs like a skier threading a slalom course.

  “He looks familiar.” Moira tensed.

  “Isn't that one of the actors from the show?”

  “Duncan! Hey, watch out!”

  Her warning was too late. One of the deck chairs was out of position and caught the young comedian squarely in the knee. He went sprawling with a quiet yelp.

  Sean sprinted toward him, light and sure on his feet in spite of the yaw and pitch of the deck. But inexplicably, he stopped. “Get up, lad. Fight her.”

  Duncan moaned and tugged on one of the plastic deck chairs. It gave him just enough leverage to help him stand. He took a couple tottering steps, edging away from Sean.

  With one hand sliding along the deck railing, the other extended out for balance, Moira rushed to the two men. “Are you okay?”

  “Leave me alone!” The young man grabbed the nearby railing with both hands, his knuckles starkly white in the glow of the deck lamps.

  “Sean, stop him.”


  “Don’t!” The comedian yanked off his formal jacket and kicked off his shoes. One skidded along the deck, like some odd fish trying to flop its way out of the human habitat.

  “What are you doing.? Tell me what’s wrong.” Moira tried to go around Sean, get closer to the desperate guy, but Sean blocked her with a burly arm.

  “Stay away from me!”

  She took a half step back as Sean’s body pressured her for more space. “Let’s go where it’s warm and talk about this.”

  Duncan glowered at them. “Don’t worry about me. I’m nobody.”

  Sean cleared his throat. “Everybody’s somebody.”

  That was the best he could do?”

  Shaking his head, the comedian said, “Not if you’re Pagliacci.”

  Moira gasped. “Wait!”

  Swift as a minnow, Duncan swung his leg over the railing, the satin stripe refracting light as if it were already part of the wavescape. “Tell them I’m sorry. But I’m no good at this. And I don’t want to screw up anyone else’s life.”

  Moira lunged forward as Duncan’s body pitched out into emptiness.

  Sean grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her as she buried her face in his shoulder.

  A wail, thin and reedy, floated on the night air. Like a seagull’s plaintive klee, scarcely human. Chilling.

  Moira shoved her fists against Sean’s chest, feeling the heat radiating off him in the cool night air. “Help him! Go after him!”

  Sean’s jaw was granite, his eyes flint as he stared out over the water. “I can’t.”

  “Well, then, I will.” She fought free of Sean’s protective embrace. Balancing on one stiletto, she fussed at the strap of the other until she could slide her foot out. The second shoe came off more easily.

  Sean said something, but a gust of wind tore his words away. Her bobby pins chose that moment to release and her updo turned into a wild shock, whipping around her face and into her stinging eyes.

  Her legs weren’t long enough to do the horseback-rider swing over the railing. She braced herself like a gymnast mounting the uneven bars and balanced her hips on the edge for a long moment.

  Took a deep breath.

  Here goes.

  She stilled her whirling thoughts, concentrated on a picture of a fairy-tale mermaid in her mind’s eye. Disney’s Ariel, with red hair and green scaled tail. The serene Copenhagen statue. Every daydream of every little girl on every beach in the world.

  “Moira, don’t!” Sean’s anguished voice.

  She raised her arms. Steepled her fingertips into a point. Leaned forward and let the wind and air escort her to the waiting waves and water below.

  Sean’s hands fisted as he watched Moira’s body torpedo toward the water. She’d apparently watched enough divers on TV, or her instincts were sound enough, that her form wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t great, either. Her angle was a couple of degrees away from ideal.

  And seventy feet from deck to surface was a long way to fall.

  Breathe, sweetheart. You can do it. Breathe.

  “Two for the price of one.” The Morrigan’s purring voice over his shoulder startled him so much he spun to face her. His clenched fists raised in a defensive posture before he even paused for thought or consideration.

  “Planning to beat me up? A poor, defenseless woman?”

  He took a step back. But he didn’t bring his hands down. She was many things, but defenseless wasn’t one of them.

  A muffled splash. He didn’t dare take his attention from his foe.

  “Ohmygod!” One floor down, a woman screamed. Other passengers must have heard Moira hit the water, too. “Someone fell overboard!”

  The Morrigan placed an elegant, manicured hand on the railing. “You really should blend in. All of the little humans are rushing to see what’s going on. Of course, there isn’t much to see.”

  There wouldn’t be. Moira would transform, of course, but that would happen below the surface. The ship was moving so quickly that its giant bank of lights wouldn’t illuminate the water far enough to shine off her sleek fins or iridescent scales.

  The downside to the cruiseliner’s speed, of course, was that Moira and the hapless young man were already far behind. Whatever a mermaid’s top swimming velocity was, it wouldn’t be nearly fast enough to catch up to the ship again.

  That meant the captain had a decision to make. Turn back and hope for the best? Or keep going? It all depended on whether or not he really believed someone had gone off the deep end, or not.

  Sean turned to the Morrigan. “What do you get out of this, Macha Morrigna?”

  She shrugged a slim shoulder, which glinted pearly white under a filmy shawl. Sequins, meant to sparkle under the brilliant lights onstage, refracted splinters of orange and blue from her feather-covered bodice. “The boy was foolish enough to think he could make lots of money the easy way. It didn’t take much to hook him up with one of the cartels.”

  Sean shuddered. “Drugs? Doesn’t strike me as your cup of tea, Macha. Aren’t you more interested in crooked politics, hack and bash armies, and good old-fashioned pillaging?”

  “Oh, don’t be naive, princeling. The war on drugs is deliciously bloody. And so wonderfully global.” She licked her lips. “I savor every death. Even your little human girlfriend’s.” She turned back to the railing, her dark gaze flicking over the ship’s wake. “I do believe we’re slowing down. Too bad all they’ll find will be two drowned corpses.”

  He grabbed for the support of the cold sleek metal before his knees failed completely. Moira! He leaned over, scanning the whitecapped tips of the tossing waves, stretching his other senses as far as he could, but fear — and the powerful being next to him — limited his strength.

  “You can’t feel them, can you? They’re dying. Poor, pathetic humans.”

  True, he couldn’t reach them. But maybe she was bluffing, too. “Leave them be!”

  “Or what? Don’t tell me you have a death wish, too.” She licked her lips. “You still can join them, princeling. Perhaps you should. Go ahead. Jump. Unless you’d rather go back to your king and tell him how miserably you failed to keep whatever promise you made to him.” She twirled a raven lock of hair between her fingers. “What was it, anyway? Did she trample some sea turtle’s nest, and he sent you to fetch her for judgment? Maybe she drank from a straw at her local Starbucks? Drained oil into a sewer when she thought no one was watching?”

  Clarity came to Sean. Slowly, with dawning incredulity, he turned and looked - really looked — at the ancient witch.

  Her porcelain features blurred. Traces of crowsfeet lurked around her dark eyes and fine silver edged her stylish messy-bun chignon. The immaculate manicure shifted and her fingers warped into arthritic claws, her nails thick and yellowed underneath the layers of glossy polish.

  No wonder she was here, on board this ship in the middle of Manannan’s realm, the ocean.

  She was running out of places on land. Only a century after Gavrilo Princip fired a pistol and started a World War, Europe was practically a borderless, unified continent with a single currency and a stable economy. The last, secretive Asian dictator met with the brash American President—twice. Even the ISIS militants were down to their last hideyhole.

  This practically-immortal creature who thrived on discord and war was losing her battle for the hearts of mankind. And blood-born power, once so abundant she’d been revered as a goddess, was draining from her faster than the world could generate more.

  Sean braced himself on the balls of his feet, reaching through the layers of decking, past the steel and wood spine of the ship. He connected with the pulsing tidal water far beneath, the wellspring of his strength. “You’re not starting a war here, Old Lady Crow. Not here. Not today. Not on my watch.”

  A sneer on her face, her eyes narrowed, she reached out her talon-ended fingers to him. He sidestepped and she overreached herself, catching her balance on the railing just in time.

  Before she could turn, he c
aptured her wrist in his right hand, and tugged it until it was trapped against her back just above her waist.

  She gave a little cry, a mew of displeasure.

  He intercepted her other arm and bent it backward as well.

  Although she tried to lurch forward, to pull away from him, she succeeded only in pulling her torso away from her shoulder joint. A hiss escaped her.

  He was large boned enough, strong enough, that he could span both her wrists in one hand, restraining her as securely as if he had her in handcuffs. His other arm snaked around to her front and cupped her mouth. “Hush, woman. You’ve caused more than enough harm for the day.”

  Two white-uniformed crewmen arrived, as sturdy and broad-shouldered as linebackers.

  “What’s going on, sir?” The older of the two planted his hands on his hips, a stern frown on his face. The younger held a walkie-talkie, whose outdated technology and limited reach worked perfectly for a ship this size in the middle of the sea.

  “Gentlemen, good timing. This woman has been smuggling drugs. I believe you’ll find she planted some for misdirection, and she pushed an unfortunate young man overboard—” he jerked his head toward the stern “—trying to implicate him in her scheme.”

  “Apprehending her now, sir.” Young Crewman barked into the radio while Older Crewman produced a ziptie from a pouch on his belt.

  “You can’t do this!” The Morrigan jutted her chin out.

  “Sure, I can, and I have, milady.” Sean doffed an imaginary cap and bowed. “Ye’ll have plenty o’ time to think of new ways to make mankind miserable. But you’ll be leaving my Moira out of your little traps from now on.”

  “We’ll see about that!” Her obsidian eyes met his as Crewmen 1 and 2 tugged her toward the nearest stairwell.

  Sean took a deep shuddering breath. Whether her threat had any teeth to it, and would come back to bite him later, he had no idea.

  If there was any surveillance tape available, she’d be released in a heartbeat, of course. And those grainy images would undoubtedly show Moira’s involvement—and his own deer-in-the-headlights moment.