by Sam Short
He offered the stone to Lillieth. "I want you to hold this stone for me, please — it will tell us whether you speak the truth… or falsehoods."
Lillieth pulled her white dress higher over her shoulders, her wrists chains clanking, and gave Henry an accusatory stare. "Mermaids not tell lies," she said. "Only tell truth. Give me stone — I show you I am good person. I did what I did because I love animals, and yes — I would do it again."
"She did it because she loves animals?" said Timothy. "Well that makes absolutely no sense."
“Crimes often don’t make sense,” said Sergeant Spencer. “Especially crimes committed in passion. People kill for all sorts of reasons, and maybe that’s true for mermaids, too.”
Lillieth turned her attention to the policeman. "Kill? I not kill. Life is special — not to be taken. I protect life!"
Reuben leapt out of the way with a squawk as Lillieth slapped her fin in anger, a scattering of iridescent scales falling onto the bed as her beautiful appendage slammed into the hard wood.
The mermaid held out a hand towards Henry. "Give me stone. I give you truth."
Chapter 21
Henry placed the stone gently on the mermaid’s palm, the jewel beginning to glow the moment it brushed her skin.
Reminding Millie of a sunset, the orb emitted vivid reds and oranges, very different from the way it had responded when she had held it. "It's different," she said. "Why was it a different colour when I used it?"
Because what's in your heart is different," explained Henry. "This stone looks into the very depths of you — your soul, your heart — your integrity. Everybody is different, and the stone translates those personal traits into colour."
Lillieth gazed into the depths of the jewel, her eyes made even more beautiful by the shimmering light. She spoke in a gentle voice. "Please ask the questions. So I can get back to the ocean." She looked at Millie. "I can't be on land any more. With no legs. I can’t grow them — my magic won’t work.”
Millie looked away from the mermaid. Laid out on the bed like a fish on a chopping board, the mermaid’s eyes stoked the fire of guilt which burned hot in her belly. She concentrated on Henry instead, waiting for him to speak.
After clearing his throat, Henry adjusted his cufflinks and stood fully upright. Like a barrister in a court of law, he spoke clearly — with only a hint of an accusatory tone in his voice. "Lillieth," he said, "did you murder Albert Salmon?"
The stone of integrity flickered in Lillieth's hand. "I know not who the person you speak of is," she said, her soft accent complementing the beautiful colours of the orb.
"Did you push a man to his death from the top of the lighthouse?" said Henry.
Lillieth fixed Henry with a fiery gaze. "No," she said, the words leaving her mouth with venom. "I did not push a man to his death. I have never killed. I will never kill."
Before Henry had the chance to give his verdict, Millie already knew Lillieth was innocent of murder. The first time she'd read a thought had been unnerving, but Lillieth’s thoughts were far less upsetting than the sad emotions Jim Grayson had broadcast.
The mermaid’s thoughts were clear and precise. And the one which Millie's powers focused on, translating it into words and images which Millie could understand, screamed her innocence loud and clear.
The stone glowed blue as Lillieth gave her answer, the surface swirling with colour. Henry nodded. He plucked the orb from Lillieth’s hand and slid it into its pouch. "You speak the truth, Lillieth," he said. "I apologise profusely. I hope you can forgive me for treating you in such a manner, but I hope you can also understand that I had no choice." He turned to Timothy. "Unshackle her, please. Lillieth is to be freed at once."
Timothy reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved an old-fashioned key. Bending to unlock the mermaid’s shackles, he faltered at the last moment. "But she admitted to doing something," he said. "She's done something wrong — shouldn't we find out what is?"
"Unlock her," commanded Henry. "Lillieth has proved she is innocent of the crime she was accused of. Her innocence demands her freedom. Should she be accused of another crime, and brought before me, I will use the stone of integrity again. Until she is accused of any further wrongdoing, she is free to go. We will release her and transport her to the ocean. We have treated her badly. I hope she can forgive us."
Timothy asked no more questions. He used the key, and with a loud rattling, the iron wrist shackles fell to the floor. Lillieth was free.
Sergeant Spencer stepped forward. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Lillieth? About why you were near the lighthouse, and why we found your hairs tangled in a murdered man’s clothes?” he said, his face open and friendly. “You’re not obliged to answer, but your help would be greatly appreciated.”
Lillieth rubbed one of her wrists, a red shackle mark marring her perfect alabaster skin. She took a few seconds to answer, staring intently at the policeman. “I sense you are different than the others here. I sense no magic in you.”
Sergeant Spencer nodded. “That’s right. I’m a human.”
“Why should I help you?” said Lillieth. “You are with these nasty people who hold me captive. You as bad as them. You are horrible man. I give you no help.”
“He’s not horrible!” snapped Judith, stepping out of the shadows, the anger on her face made less harsh by the soft candle light. “He’s a wonderful man!”
Stretching her fin, Lillieth rolled her eyes. “You jump quickly to his defence. Who are you?”
“I’m his daughter,” said Judith. “He’s my father.”
“Your father?” said Lillieth. “He has no magic. You have magic. I watched you on the beach — making magic red dragon. Every magical being must have magical parent. Your mother is magic?”
Judith’s shoulder’s slumped. “She was magic,” she said, her voice faltering. “She’s dead. My mother is dead.”
The same words Millie had used herself for the past fourteen years, sounded alien coming from another woman so young. She’d known Judith was adopted, but she’d not considered why. Her throat constricting, Millie wiped the building moisture from the corner of her eye.
Another thought crossed her mind. Every magical being must have a magical parent. That’s what Lillieth had said, and nobody had corrected her. What did that mean? Had Millie’s mother been a witch? Or had the father she’d never known been magical?
She swept the thoughts aside. It was Judith’s time to speak, and Millie would listen.
Lillieth’s expression softened as Judith spoke. “So sad,” she said. “A daughter losing a mother and a husband losing a wife. I’m sorry. For you both.”
Judith’s face crumpled. “My father… my father is —”
Sergeant Spencer placed a protective arm around Judith’s shoulders, drawing her close to him. “You don’t have to, Judith. Don’t upset yourself.”
“It’s okay,” said Judith. “Everybody in this room knows apart from Millie and Lillieth. Millie would find out soon enough, and I won’t listen to Lillieth calling you horrible. I won’t have anybody calling you horrible, Dad! The man who saved me, and then gave me a whole new lease of life, is not horrible!”
Lillieth reached for Judith’s hand and guided her onto the bench next to her. “Sit, sad girl. Tell me. Tell me what troubles you so much. I sense great despair in you.”
Judith kept her hand in Lillieth’s. She bowed her head. “My father is dead, too,” she sobbed, tears shining on her cheeks. “My real father —” She paused, and looked at Sergeant Spencer, pride in her eyes. “My first real father.” Her body trembled as she wept. “My mother and father both died. They’re both dead, and I killed them. I killed my parents!”
“An accident,” said Henry, offering Judith his handkerchief. “It was an accident, Judith. You were a young child. Have some compassion for yourself.”
Her eyes conveying a beautiful understanding, Lillieth wiped a tear from Judith’s cheek. “You don’t need to say mo
re, sweet girl. I will answer your father’s questions, and help him. I don’t believe he is horrible. I don’t believe any of you are horrible. I was angry when I used that word — I understand you all thought I had done a terrible thing. I understand you had to keep me captive.”
Wiping her eyes with Henry’s handkerchief, Judith composed herself. “No. I want to. I want to tell you how lovely the man who adopted me is. I want to tell you how proud I am to call him Dad.”
“Then tell us, sweet Judith,” said Lillieth. “Tell us your story.”
"It was nineteen-ninety-two. I was two years old," said Judith. "A lot of people don't remember much from that age, but I remember. I remember everything that happened on that day."
As Judith spoke, Millie sensed her thoughts, but couldn't — or wouldn't, focus on them. It seemed discourteous to peer into other people's minds, and Millie was glad that it seemed possible to tune out if she needed to.
"I didn't know I was a witch,” Judith continued. “My mother or father never told me. I didn't find out until I came to Spellbinder Bay and met Henry — he told me everything. He told me that my mum had not been a particularly powerful witch, and had preferred to live in the so-called normal world — rather than a town like this one."
"She didn't find out she was a witch until later in life," said Henry. "A little like Millie. She decided she didn't want to give up the life she’d built to live among the paranormal community. There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with that at all."
Judith stared into the candlelight. "I wish she had decided to live in a town like this. Perhaps being surrounded by magic would have strengthened her own magic, and then maybe she could have saved herself and my father." She turned her gaze to Sergeant Spencer. "You know I love living with you, Dad. You know I love you dearly, but two lives were lost so we could be together. If I could turn back time, I would, but my life would never be the same without you in it."
Sergeant Spencer approached his daughter, and put a big hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to excuse yourself," he said. "I told you before, Judith. I know you love me, and I love you. Of course we treat each other like father and daughter now, but I understand that you wish to some degree we'd never met — because the way we met was unfortunate."
"What I did, accident or no accident," said Judith, "was unfortunate. Meeting you was not unfortunate. I'll never think of it as unfortunate."
"What did happen?" asked Lillieth, Judith's hand still in hers. "What terrible event brought you two together?"
Judith let out a long breath, as if mustering the courage to speak. She looked at the floor. “It was a cold night," she said. "There was ice on the roads, I remember slipping on the pavement before I got into the car. We'd been to pick out a Christmas tree. Mum liked real ones, but Dad didn't like the needles falling on the floor. He wanted a fake tree." She smiled. "Mum always got her way, though."
"It was the coldest winter we'd had for a decade," interjected Sergeant Spencer. "The accident wasn't all your fault, Judith. If there hadn't been ice on the road, your father might have been able to control the skid."
"Perhaps," said Judith, with a shake of her head. "But we'll never know. All I know is that I wanted ice cream, and Mum and Dad wouldn't let me have any. They said I'd had enough treats for the day. That's when I lost my temper. I lost my temper like a spoilt two-year-old. I acted like a brat."
"You lost your temper like a normal two-year-old," said Sergeant Spencer. "You weren't a brat."
"I could see Mum’s laughing face in the rear-view mirror," said Judith. "It made me angrier. I struggled to get out of my car seat, but the straps held me in place. That's when it happened."
“What happened?" asked Lillieth.
"The first time I found out I had magic," said Judith. "That's what happened, and with terrible consequences. The more I struggled to get out of my car seat, and the more I shouted, the angrier I became. As I got angrier, I remember a fierce heat in my chest. I didn't know what it was, and it frightened me. When my arms began to tingle, I really got scared, and as the fear grew, my magic was released. It was a simple spell — a two-year-old's spell. It was just a flash of colourful light which filled the car."
"The innocent magic of a child," said Henry.
"The spell might have been innocent, but the consequences weren't," said Judith. "Dad shouted something, and I remember Mum turning in her seat to look at me, and that was the last time I saw her face. The light must've blinded Dad, and he lost control of the car. It happened quickly. We hit a tree and the car crumpled, flipping onto its roof. I shouted for Mum and Dad, but they didn't answer me. Then I saw it… and I smelled it. Smoke and flames."
Judith bowed her head as she sobbed, and Sergeant Spencer wiped a tear from his eye. "Don't upset yourself any more, Judith," he said.
Her body wracked with sobs, Judith relented. "You tell the rest of the story, Dad," she said.
His shoulders slumping, Sergeant Spencer sighed. "I was a young police constable," he said. "I was on my way home from work. It was a dark night, and I saw the glow from the fire even before I rounded the sharp bend in the road. The car was on its roof, in a ditch, where it had landed after bouncing off the tree. The flames had filled the front of the car, and were spreading quickly. I had to act."
"You were a hero," said Henry.
"Anybody would have done what I did," said Sergeant Spencer, brushing off Henry's compliment. "We had no mobile phones back then, so I couldn't call for help, and even if I could have — there was no time to wait. I saw movement in the back of the car — a small arm banging at the window. The fire was hot, but somehow I managed to get the door open. Then I saw her, hanging upside down in her car seat — surrounded by…" He paused. "Surrounded by what I soon learned was magic, but at the time, thought was a miracle."
"I'll never forget seeing your face when you opened the door, Dad," said Judith.
"And I'll never forget your face," said Sergeant Spencer. "It haunted me for a long time."
Lillieth's fin swayed as she spoke. "And you took her on as your daughter? The little girl you rescued from fire."
"She had no other family," said Sergeant Spencer. "There was nobody else to look after her."
Millie had considered her own story sad, but as Judith’s story unfolded, she realised with guilt which she understood was misplaced, that far worse could have happened to her. And her mother.
"Mum’s parents were dead," said Judith, "and she was an only child. Dad's family had never cared about him — they certainly didn't care about what happened to me."
"I'd seen what happened to a lot of the children who ended up in the care system," said Sergeant Spencer. "And I didn't want that happening to Judith. It took a while, and a lot of legal arguments, but eventually I was granted permission to adopt her. I never mentioned the… force field I'd seen protecting Judith from the fire, to the courts, they would have thought I was mad. I never mentioned it to Judith, either — I didn't want to scare her. Then Henry showed up, and everything changed."
Henry cleared his throat. "If I may?" he asked.
"Of course," said Judith. "It's your story too."
"Please do," said Sergeant Spencer. "It makes me sad to speak about it."
“Thank you,” said Henry, his eyes heavy with sadness. "I'm in tune with the magical energies which criss-cross the planet," he began. "It's my job to be aware of magic being used where it shouldn't be. I can't be everywhere, but when I sensed that a young child had cast a spell which had invoked... unfortunate consequences, I had to become involved.
“I watched from afar, at first — wondering if I should intervene. When Sergeant Spencer adopted young Judith, I hoped that Judith's magic would settle down, and she would be able to live her life in the non-paranormal world until she found her own way to us — if she ever did, of course. That wasn't to be, though. Judith had been through a traumatic experience — her magic responded as such."
"Things began happening," expl
ained Sergeant Spencer. "Things I couldn't explain. Windows smashing for no reason, a tree in the garden being ripped out by the roots — things that scared me, and things that I knew deep down Judith was responsible for."
"I couldn't allow Judith to remain in the non-paranormal world," said Henry. "She needed guidance. Her magic was becoming a danger to herself, and other people. So I approached Sergeant Spencer, and gave him a choice."
"What choice do you speak of?" asked Lillieth.
"I explained to him who I was, and who... what Judith was — a witch," said Henry. "Sergeant Spencer was remarkably open to such a possibility."
"Of course I was," said Sergeant Spencer. "I'd seen things. What you told me made more sense than anything I could have imagined myself."
"The choice was simple," continued Henry. "And necessary. After explaining everything about the paranormal world, I gave Sergeant Spencer the choice of either accompanying Judith to Spellbinder Bay, where he could continue living as her father, or allowing me to use magic to completely wipe his memory of everything that happened, and his memories of Judith. It may sound harsh, but I couldn’t risk allowing any human — even such a fine citizen as Sergeant Spencer, to have knowledge of the magical world if they weren’t a part of it."
"I didn't need to think about it," said Sergeant Spencer, smiling at Judith. "We moved here together, almost immediately. When she was three.”
"And going against centuries of tradition," said Henry. "I used magic to allow Sergeant Spencer to see through the concealment spell which enveloped our little town. The good sergeant kept his job in the police force — although the police force stays out of his business, thanks to the concealment magic, whilst continuing to pay him a wage.”