by Shea Berkley
His smile faltered. He took in my form, and then my feet which I kept firmly planted in the surf. He frowned. Hesitated. His hands shook ever-so-slightly before he peered intently into my eyes. “If you won’t come with me, at least let me show you where I live. It lies just beyond the woods in a tiny glen…”
He made to draw me forward and out of the water, but I slipped back, breaking free. “I cannot.”
The water was my life. If I stepped free, I would die.
As I backed away, he followed me, wading into the lake as doubt clouded his eyes. “I don’t understand. I can’t go with you and you can’t come with me. Why?”
I placed my finger against his lips, their silky softness entranced me. I was content to kiss and love the night away. Why was not he? I found that whenever questions came to his lips, it was easier to replace them with kisses. I drew closer until my mouth met his. A song rose from my body that promised his heart’s desire. I wove the magic tune about him until he clutched me to him; his arms wrapped tightly within my silky hair that he admired so much. No more questions for this night, only declarations of love and the promise of a life together. Forever.
I felt as he did. Being near him compared to no other moment. The loneliness that had existed before, which I never understood, vanished. A fervent hope that our time would never end surrounded my heart.
Then the unimaginable happened. I began to change.
My belly swelled. Embarrassed, I stayed far out in the lake, out of his sight, but he not out of mine. As the seasons changed, I listened to my love’s mournful cries. His face grew streaked with tears, a phenomenon as disturbing to witness as it was fascinating. Yet, no matter how desperately he called, I would not come to him. He threatened to swim to me, but even those threats faded with time to be replaced by cold silence. No longer did he look longingly out at the water. A hardness had settled over his features that made me shiver. Winter came in vengeful flurries, and eventually he stopped coming to the edge of the lake, and I stopped visiting the surface. If I were to pass from this life, I did not want him to suffer my anguish. It was best I suffer alone.
The months of my forced solitude grew. Summer had grown ripe and the waters warm when the day came that I thought I would die. I swam into an underwater cavern set deep into the rocks and emerged from the pool of water. The cavern, with its slick walls and wet floors, was the only place where I could stand on my feet in my underwater world. A tall, overhead shaft let in a dim sliver of moonlight, revealing the two halves of the cavern. One side housed a small area just big enough to lie on, while the other side had a larger bit of land where I could sit or pace or do whatever my mood warranted. It was also where I kept my treasure—baubles and bangles and all manner of things that pleased my eye. As I made my way to the smaller shelf, the ray of moonlight caused the mica in the walls to sparkle.
The night had grown thick, and the rocks glittered like tiny stars as I crawled onto the worn rock shelf. The area gently slanted away from the water, its shape deep and long enough to cradle my body. I wrapped my arms around my distended stomach and curled my knees to my chest. I was ready to die. I had lived and loved and protected the lake. My only regret was leaving the lake unguarded. I refused to think of the man. It hurt too much.
As the pains grew, one thought comforted me. I could find no more beautiful place to take my last breath than in this small glittering world.
Instead of death, a miracle happened. A small being emerged from my body. Intense flashes of color swept her pearlized skin, but her bronze-colored hair stayed the same. I had never thought to see something so small that looked like me. Eternal love grew between us with every breath she took, and every sigh I breathed.
I stayed on the rocks for three days, suffering the pains of the air for my newborn daughter. On the fourth day, I knew it was time to take her into the water.
I slipped into the pool, my skin drinking in its nutrients. Turning, I eased my daughter into the water and held her tightly to my side. Her squeal of delight rang within the cavern, and I laughed along with her. We bobbed beneath the surface and quickly out again. Her skin plumped and her energy tripled. Her arms and legs moved as if she would swim away and explore the lake on her own. Visions of us swimming together as I showed her our world caused my heart to take flight. My daughter was a child of the lake, just like me. Without a second thought, I plunged us into the dark waters of the cavern. My pupils dilated, glowing brightly to illuminate the dark waters. I began to make our way out of the cavern when I glanced at her. A sense of alarm pinched at my nerves. My baby began to gurgle, just like her father had all those months ago. Horror struck. She needed air. I raced back into the cavern, and when I crested, her loud crying echoed against the rocks.
As the moon poured down its silvery light and cast sparkling reflections on my baby’s skin, I realized she was not like me.
She was like her father.
The next few months became a daily test for her survival. I found that though she loved the water, her skin would pucker if she stayed in the lake for more than three days. Yet, if she stayed out of the lake for more than a week, her skin would crack and peel, and I had little doubt she would eventually wither into dust. As my daughter grew, the cavern no longer became a haven. Although she longed to swim, she was unable to do so without my help, and leaving a curious child on a thin ledge became problematic. It was only a matter of time before she fell in and drowned when I was forced to leave her to hunt for food.
It was then I learned to capture air. I formed a bubble for her and we explored as much of the lake as we dared. Yet in the back of my mind, I knew something wasn’t right. She needed more than a rocky ledge to call home.
My decision made, I gathered a large bubble of air and we headed for the surface. Her first sight of the sun, of birds and clouds and the expanse of forest was almost as exciting as her first taste of water. It was my first taste of doubt. If the lake gave her life, the sun gave her power. Her strength increased, her eyes sparkled. I knew if we returned to the cavern, she would wilt away. How could I ever care for this child?
One truth formed in my mind. I would suffer anything for her. Determined to solve our dilemma, I found a sheltered cove connected to a small, but deep pool of water which was fed by a gurgling waterfall. A tiny split in the rocks allowed passage between the pool to the lake and was big enough for me to slither through sideways. Water and land so close together and protected…it felt like heaven. I created a patch of thick mist so that I could stay nearby while my daughter was on shore. But I could not sustain the mist for more than a few hours into the morning. The strong summer sun eventually ripped through the trees and rubbed at my magic and caused a deep exhaustion to wash over me. I was forced to dive and circle the pool and cove, popping my head out to make sure my child was still where I had laid her before I dove again. But the agony of being apart weighed heavily on me, and I ended up swelling the mists and huddling in the shallows, slowly turning into a thin, weak shell of my former self.
The solution to my problem was hard won, but clear.
After months of torture, the days of bright sunlight were ending. Time had ripened to the moment I feared, but a moment I must face. The sharp scent of autumn, of wood smoke and rotting leaves filled the air. I slipped a necklace I’d made out of the precious stones I’d found in my pile of treasure around my daughter’s neck.
She squealed and mouthed the polished, colorful rocks. I smiled. “So you won’t forget where you were born,” I said.
We left our shelter and swam to a section of the lakeshore that was very familiar to me. I called upon the mist, heavier and thicker than ever before, and waded close to shore. I had never dared to go inland, and as I watched the water swirl about my ankles, my heart pounded harder and a sense of panic rose. I knew I could never leave the lake. To break from my source of life would be to die.
As I stood staring at the line between land and water, my daughter’s chubby legs kicked against my h
ip where I held her. She was keen to explore this new place. I was not. I held her out in front of me, our faces only inches apart. “Do not stray far. When I call, you must come back.” Slowly, I deposited her on the dry earth. She crawled among the debris along the shore, mouthing rocks and shells and pulling up clumps of grass by the fistful. After awhile, I faced the water and gazed out over its ever-changing face. With a heavy heart, I called out to the man. “I am here. Come to the lake.”
Over a week, I stranded myself in the gentle surf, and every day I grew weaker and weaker, yet not once did the mist fail. It clung close to the lake’s surface and lapped at the shore. Every now and again, I would call out in my singsong voice, enticing the man to come to the waters’ edge.
My daughter crawled hither and fro, but never too far from me. And always, when night fell, she crawled to my waiting arms and curled against my chest and fell asleep. I did not close my eyes. I stared at the rippling mist, hoping desperately the man would come. I was so tired. So weak.
He would come. He must.
On the fourth night, winter’s harsh breath blew against the temperate autumn days, causing a heavy frost to cover the ground. I tucked my hair around my daughter, and focused the remnants of my energy on keeping her warm even as my body grew silvery white from the crystalline accumulation.
On the eighth night, the sound of the frozen grass snapping as it was crushed underfoot warned me of his approach.
Sudden silence.
I felt his uncertainty.
“I am here,” I whispered, too exhausted to move. I managed to sliver a section of the mist, making a tunnel to where I stood. I turned my head just enough to see him.
He hesitated when he saw me. Dark circles cupped his eyes. His skin held a sallow hue while his hair hung limp against his shoulders. The months we had been apart had not been kind to either of us.
Two bright splotches flared against his cheeks. “You come now? After all this time?” His breath sounded harsh and cold, completely unlike the sleek tones I’d grown to love.
My blood had grown thick from the cold and my movements sluggish. “I had no choice,” I said, gathering my arms closer to support the cradle they made. I slowly turned and showed him the sleeping baby within the crook.
He stopped his approach and stared at our child. I brushed my hair from her face. “Do you know what this is?”
“Where did you find her?”
“She is our child. I need your help. She cannot live in the lake. To survive, she needs to walk on land.”
Our daughter sighed in her sleep. Her fist clutched at the necklace and her lips tipped into a soft moue. An involuntary flash of her favorite color, a light, creamy orange, swept her small body. The smallest gift from her gave me pure pleasure. Smiling, I struggled to match my skin tone to hers.
“No,” the man shouted and stumbled back, pulling a knife from his belt and waved it threateningly. “What evil is this? Away with you. Away.”
I frowned, confused as he staggered left and right, searching for a break in the mist. I took a stiff step forward. “Please, don’t go. If you loved me at all, you will not go.”
He grew still and turned wild eyes on me. His skin had turned as pale as the moon. I waded further ashore until only the bottoms of my feet felt the pull of the lake. Without my full attention, the mist had weakened drastically and my skin cracked and bled. I kissed my daughter’s brow and placed her at his feet. The strain of creating the mist while keeping her warm finally grew too much; the mist fell away and I collapsed into the water. With the last of my strength, I called forth a powerful surge that enveloped my body and pulled me toward the deeper water.
Just before I let the healing waters overtake me, I saw him glance down at our daughter. Disgust twisted his face. A moment of unease struck me. I held out my hand toward my child, willing myself back to shore, but the lake would not do as I willed. It yanked me beneath the wintry caps.
As the surge pulled me further away, I saw the waves near shore turn a deep red. The crimson tendrils spread wickedly. My mouth opened on a silent scream. A splash disturbed the stain, and when the water settled, my baby’s pale body floated lifelessly above me. My body contracted with horror. I sank further into the depths of the lake where a chill settled in my bones, and as my heart ripped in two, darkness closed in on me.
Never would I be the same. Never.
The man had taught me the meaning of love. Now he taught me how to hate. In the days that followed, he called others to the shore, his voice a frantic cry in the icy air. “A devil creature lives in the lake, an unnatural thing to behold. It takes the form of a beautiful woman. But be warned. She enchants. She deceives. She will rip our souls from us.”
The look of madness on his face revealed the truth to the villagers. He had encountered the creature. His soul had gone. The others muttered their alarm, and he grasped onto the chokehold of fear. “We must catch her,” he cried. “Haul her ashore and kill her.
Panic rippled through the crowd. They built boats and fashioned netting. They skimmed over the water, their faces peering into the depths waiting to spear me like an ill-fated fish.
No one crosses me. I gladly called down vengeance on all who dared enter its waters. With wind, rain and large swells, I capsized boats. I sang sweetly to some, while for others I placed gold coins near the shallows as an enticement into my trap. I exploited their fears, calling forth the scaly beast that lived in the depths or encouraged their deepest desires as I slithered toward them. I took and I took, fathers and sons, the confident and the bold, always hoping this time it was him, this time I would finally find peace, daring my lover to end the killings by showing his face above the waters. But he never left the shore, and my pain never wavered, and the years grew until even the bravest refused to come and find me. Hate, deep and raw, infused my bones. All men were wicked and worthless.
The legend of the lake took firm root. I heard whispers from shore, fearful, terrified whispers. “Death will come to any who dare enter those waters.”
The years grew silent. My heart turned to stone. All had listened and believed.
All except one.
.
12
Man’s time is not mine. He is a moment on the earth while I have always been. When the waters were mine alone, and I was secure that no man would ever hunt in them again, I abandoned my vigilance of the surface. But I was not pleased. I retreated into my cavern; the ache of betrayal still stung.
I gathered the remnant bones of my daughter, and tucked them into a small niche where I could seek them out, touch them and forever speak to her. Barely surviving, barely caring what happened beyond my home, I fell deeper into hate–the hollow, bony shell of my last victim chained forever to the wall as a souvenir of my fury. So wrapped up in my misery, I did not notice when a fisherman dared to collect the bounties of my lake. He fished at will and learned his craft well. When the slap of the net and the cry of the fish finally found me, I was enraged. Who would dare such a feat after all this time?
Did he believe the curse would not find him? I vowed to do to him what I’d done so many times before. I never expected to get caught in his nets. In my weakened state, I could not fight my way free. When our eyes met, I saw a man much like the man I’d known all those years ago–a handsome man, strong and confident. I hated him on sight. When I gained my freedom, I attacked. Yet my lure of song did not work on this man. I knew he was tempted. How could he resist my call? An impasse settled over us.
I listened to the flow of his mind and found there the impending birth of his child. His only regret was that he might never see his family again.
My gaze sharpened on the fisherman. I had found my own net and I would entwine it around this man, choking the life from him, for if I could not destroy the father now, I would destroy him through his child. I offered up a bargain so clever, he would agree.
He did…and he repaid me with deceit.
Man had not changed. He was as evil
and cunning as ever.
How had I failed to lure this man? I tumbled the question in my head for many years, and only one answer remained. Magic. I felt it that day. It rolled off the man, searing my mind and weakening my strength.
But I had magic of my own. Deep magic. Dark magic. And time rested on my side. I would collect on our bargain and finish the deed I started long ago. I had no choice. We had set a price for his freedom, and I could not rest until it was paid. So, I watched. Waited. And I grew stronger with each passing day.
In the beginning, I trolled the shore, weaving in and out through the thickly bladed reeds as I waited for the babe, but my vigil came to naught. They withheld him from me.
I was not dissuaded. I had developed longstanding patience. As the babe grew into a boy, I let the wind carry a magical message only he could hear. “Find the pool.”
Early in the mornings, as the mist rolled along the surface of the lake, I called to him, and he followed, with bow and arrow, he dove into the forest surrounding the lake. It was only a matter of time before he found the pool. When he did, he cast it longing glances, but still never dared the waters. My frustration grew, and I retreated to the depths. I languished there in a black mood, causing the rift in my soul to widen beyond repair.
But then the boy turned into a youth–a handsome, strapping lad–and his daring took hold. He braved the waters of the pool. I knew the moment he entered, but as luck would have it, he left before I could conjure a mist. So I returned to my cavern and formulated a plan.
I went on the prowl, keeping him in my sights by using a shell and fish blood to scry on his every move. All else fell dormant as I anticipated the moment he would draw near. A few times I came close to taking him, but it was not to be. Until now.
His time was nigh. I felt it in my bones.
As the dark blood swirled within the hollow of the mollusk shell, I saw the son draw near. The conditions were ideal. The moon was high and the mist hovered over the lake awaiting my command. With a confidence I hadn’t felt in a very long time, I tossed the shell away and abandoned the cavern. I called the mist to shore, and as I rode the waves into the secluded cove, his lingering wish found me.