by Emma Hamm
“Saoirse,” his deep voice broke through her reveries. “Here’s good enough.”
She turned her gaze towards him, and the world bloomed into color. Perhaps she would never understand what it was about him that called to her, but his very existence was a siren call she could not resist. He was color, life, and magic all wrapped in one being who made little sense.
Now, she would dive into the water and risk her life to keep him alive. Nodding, she reached for the hem of her dress, only to pause when he grabbed onto her wrist.
“Just—” he hesitated. “Be careful.”
“I’ll do my best. The ocean is not a very safe place.”
He bit his lip, white teeth worrying at the full flesh. “Come back to me.”
Did he think she was going to leave for good? Saoirse could never leave his side, no matter how much she wanted to return to her home. Life wasn’t worth living without the other half of her soul.
She reached out and pressed her palm to his cheek. “I will always come back to you, mo ghaol. Never fear that.”
My love.
She shouldn’t have said it. Her heart was already on the line when it came to Manus. He owned so much of her that Saoirse worried she would completely disappear. And yet, it was the truth.
Love for him shone so brightly within her chest that he must have seen it. Judging by the stunned expression on his face, she doubted he’d even guessed.
“I should have said it sooner,” she murmured. “Perhaps in a hundred different ways as well. I don’t mean it as a goodbye, I hope you know that.”
He said nothing. Instead, he kept staring at her with that dumbfounded expression that set her teeth on edge.
Saoirse took a deep breath and yanked her dress over her head. The light blue linen drifted through the air and landed in Manus’s lap as light as a feather. She didn’t hesitate. Saoirse dove into the water in a curving arc and created no ripple when she disappeared underneath the waves.
Happiness, so vivid it was almost painful, splashed through her body. It tingled on her skull where her hair lifted up. It effervesced down her spine and lashed her legs together, yet it did not hurt. All she felt was euphoria as scales rippled down into a billowing fluke.
Her tail was powerful and strong. It flexed at the merest whim of her mind and propelled her through the icy ocean. Down and down she went, stretching her arms out so the ocean could stroke more of her body. This was where she belonged. This was where she had been born, and she’d missed it so desperately. She hadn’t realized it was the cause of her unhappiness.
Bright bubbles of laughter exploded from her lips. Home. She was finally home.
At the bottom of the ocean, she paused and looked back up at the surface where a single small boat bobbed in the middle of a vast nothingness.
It was difficult to be a creature of two souls, she mused. They both longed for the freedom of the ocean and the whip of salty air. And they were both bound by chains. His of desire for wealth and comfort, hers for safety and love.
Her thoughts turned dark, her expression wistful. If only there was a way to save them both. As it was, the only thing she could do was bring back fistfuls of gold.
A pit in the bottom of her stomach suggested this wouldn’t help at all. That in the end, all it was going to do was create more trouble.
Money was a dangerous thing for humans. She’d seen them spend it wastefully at the market, haggle over prices, buying things they didn’t need for people who couldn't care less. Yet, they always bought the thing that meant very little.
Her gills flared in a deep inhale. This was the only way, she reminded herself.
She turned and let the current take her where it wanted to go. Sunken ships always found themselves in the same area. The ocean moved the puzzle pieces beneath the waves wherever it wanted them to go.
Jagged stone jutted out of the ocean floor, bracketed by long strands of kelp that nearly reached the surface. There wasn’t as much ocean life here as her home. A few fish wiggled past and brushed against her sides, but there weren’t many whales or dolphins.
A jellyfish touched her head with its long tendrils. The zap of electricity made her giggle and bat the strands away.
“Go on,” she chuckled. “Off with you, I’m not your newest meal!”
If a jellyfish could look put out, this one did. It sullenly floated away.
Saoirse flexed her muscles and sped through the water. She curved her arms in front of her, spinning as she swam. Barrel rolls were always her favorite trick, and the dolphins loved to watch her spin.
There were no dolphins here; not yet. She could hear their joyous laughter echoing from some far-off space. They were followed by the melancholy cry of a whale and then sudden silence.
A ship loomed in the distance. Its shape was little more than broken masts and dark shadows, but she remembered it from her first trip here. A great beast lurking in the depths.
Saoirse couldn’t guess how long ago it was laid to rest. Chunks of the sides were missing, stolen by the ocean and sea creatures. A crack ran down the center of the ship, two halves of a whole spilling out the guts of gold and gems.
She had never felt uncomfortable near a wreck before. The ships were dead—a memory rather than a real thing.
This one sang a song she did not like. It wailed through the currents with forgotten screams and anguished cries. The souls of the dying stayed with this creature of wood.
Floating upright, she hesitated in the foggy water. Was there movement in the depths? She couldn’t make out what kind of creature it was but was certain she saw a fin. It didn’t look like any sea creature she had ever seen before.
Chests full of gold waited just outside the ship. They must have tumbled from within when the deck cracked in half. She could swim and grab whatever she could hold.
As much as she was enjoying being herself again, Saoirse didn’t want to linger in this place. It was terrifying and far too dangerous for her liking.
She pressed her hands against her belly and started forward. Slowly, so as not to frighten whatever lingered within the depths.
Nearby, the ancient sails were flapping in the currents. She could use them as some kind of bag to carry all the gold. It would be a long and arduous journey with so much weight, but it would only need to be one trip. Gritting her teeth, she tugged the fabric free from the confines of dirt and muck. Though it was only a small piece, it would do.
Saoirse hesitated. Fear made her stomach clench, nearly doubling her over with pain.
She rushed forward and thrust handfuls of coins to the center of the sail. She would tie it later, but for now, she needed to rush. A sense of urgency pressed down upon her shoulder, digging into the base of her skull.
“A little one has come to visit?” The voice drifted out of the ragged remains of the ship. “A merrow, perhaps?”
Saoirse froze with her hands on the wealth spilling to the sea floor. Her eyes locked on the shadows moving in the ship. Could it be coiled tentacles? There wasn’t a creature with a shape like that, not one that she knew of. Was this some beast even the faeries had forgotten long ago?
Glowing yellow eyes blinked open, then another set, until a horde of yellow eyes stared at her through the writhing darkness. Thick, ropey bodies twisted in a mass. The eels were knotted around each other, clustered so tightly together Saoirse couldn’t tell where one started, and where one began.
“Will you not respond?” The voice asked. “I so love a pretty little merrow’s voice.”
She shivered. “I only speak to those I can see. Who are you?”
“What am I, is your real question. Is it not?”
“Few creatures could exist at such depths. I am curious as to what you might be, but I mean no disrespect.”
“Move, my lovelies.”
The eels undulated in agitation, shifting and snapping their jaws until they parted in the middle like a curtain. Saoirse still couldn’t see through the shadows, but she knew som
ething lurked there. Something stared at her through the black mire.
A pale white hand emerged. It clasped the back of a thick eel and flexed. Sharp bones pushed at the thin skin, standing out in stark relief. The creature pulled itself from its home within the nest of eels, revealing long white hair and an emaciated body which was vaguely human although far too thin to boast of such beginnings.
It crawled over the thick eel bodies, grunting as it slid to the sea floor and pushed up onto its arms.
Saoirse had heard of such creatures, although only in legend. The bean sídhes stayed on land. They wailed a warning to all hunted by death. Their haunting cries could be heard in the early light of morning, or the sudden darkness and despair of night.
They were not meant to drown. They couldn’t die, not really, but they could rot at the bottom of the ocean for all eternity if they were banished there.
Whatever this woman had done must have been a terrible and grievous crime for such a punishment. And surely it was a woman, for her form might be emaciated but Saoirse could see the sagging skin where curves may once have been.
Clawed hands sank into the muck that squished through the skeletal fingers. “Why have you come here?”
“I wish only to share in your wealth, honored maiden.” Saoirse bent at the waist in a bow few merrows could hold.
“My wealth? What use does a merrow have for such a thing?” The bean sídhe pushed herself up onto hands and knees, then stood. She was tall and lithe, perhaps a beauty when she was on land.
“I have a lover, a human who desires to live in comfort.”
“Humans are a waste of space. They drove us from our lands, turned us into little more than animals who feast upon their scraps.”
“He is not like the others,” Saoirse said, twisting her fingers together.
“They’re all the same, child.” The bean sídhe leveled her with a chastising look. “Don’t blind yourself to their flaws.”
“I love him,” Saoirse blurted. “With all that I am.”
“Love? Love is a figment of our imaginations, you know faeries cannot love.”
“I think we can. I think we’ve been told for so long that such a blessing is only for the humans, and we’ve forgotten it’s possible. It’s so strong, I feel it in my fingers.” She held out her hands as if they might glow from the powerful emotion bursting at her seams. “He is everything.”
The bean sídhe tsked. The sound floated in a bubble from her mouth and burst in an echoing call. “I’ve seen faeries like you before. The stories never end well.”
Curiosity dug into the base of Saoirse’s skull. She hesitated, her fingers curling in the gold, and finally murmured, “What happened to them?”
A smile curled across the bean sídhe’s face. It was raw, ragged, and filled with so much hunger that Saoirse flinched back.
“They died,” the faerie replied. “They tied themselves to a human whose life would end someday. You know they only live fifty or so years? A hundred if you’re lucky, but those are rare cases. Humans are fragile creatures. One moment they’re with you, and then?” The bean sídhe snapped her fingers. “Gone, like a candle snuffed by a careless hand.”
“The faeries died?” Saoirse asked. “How is that possible? Surely, they could have returned to their homes, back to where they came from. Did their families shun them?”
“Oh, you’re so sweet.” An eel untangled itself from the others and draped itself across the bean sídhe’s shoulders. “They died of a broken heart, my dear. Faeries love with their entire being, and you said it yourself. He’s part of you now, a light that drives you forward. What did you think would happen when he dies?”
She hadn’t thought about it. Manus always vibrated with life why would death come for him? But it would, someday.
Saoirse felt like a fool. She should have realized he would die, and the repercussions of that. By falling in love with a human, she had cut her own life short.
The bean sídhe let out a shrieking laugh. “You didn’t know? Or you hadn’t thought what that truly entailed? Little merrow, you must be the most foolish of creatures to bind yourself to one with limited time.”
“No,” Saoirse said and shook her head. “I will not regret my decision. I love him, and life without love is meaningless. I would take a short life with him than a long life alone.”
The other faerie spun so her back was turned towards Saoirse. Her spine was straight, long white hair floating around her and crackling with electricity. An eel slid around her arm and stared back at Saoirse with a cold gaze.
“I—” Saoirse cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to offend, maiden.”
“You did.”
“I am frequently careless with my words. I should learn to think before I speak.”
“You should.” The bean sídhe held up a hand, her shoulders oddly stiff and her body unmoving. “Take what you want and go.”
Saoirse tied up the sail and stuffed it to the brim. She hefted the bag over her shoulder, grunting at the weight but not wanting to give the bean sídhe time to change her mind.
“Thank you,” she quietly said.
“You are a cursed faerie,” the bean sídhe replied. “Your human has a soul, you know. I’ve seen them. White, ephemeral things that drift through our world for all eternity. But you?”
Saoirse found herself caught in a gaze as black as the deepest abyss. The bean sídhe glowed, her hair emitting a light that illuminated the ship and all its shadows. Thousands of eels twisted and turned, their sharp teeth gnashing and tails whipping.
The bean sídhe bared her own teeth as pointed as the eels. “You have no soul because you are one of the Fae. When you die, you will turn into sea foam in a final death no one can save you from. Remember that when you return to your warm bed.”
Emotions she couldn’t name rushing through her, Saoirse fled from the cursed shipwreck. The bean sídhe was a cruel creature, lonely and tired after so many years of banishment. Her words were meant to bite and harm.
Unfortunately, they succeeded.
Saoirse felt niggling worms of doubt sinking into her flesh and through her resolve. They punctured holes in the future she had seen for herself until it unraveled like a threadbare sheet.
Death? She’d never even considered it. Fae didn’t worry about dying. They were as good as immortal although they could be killed in war. Merrows had very few natural predators and could live thousands of years. She’d known some that seemed as old as the ocean.
She shuddered. Manus would age, it was what humans did. They grew weaker and tired as death slowly sucked away what little life they had.
In bonding with him, she’d given herself the same fate. She would age, she would grow tired, and she would feel hunger so painful it made her entire body hurt.
The physical toll of carrying the heavy bag of gold sent electric pangs skittering from her abdomen to the top of her skull. Unthinking, she grabbed the nearest fish and tore the soft flesh from its side with her teeth. It stopped struggling immediately, part trauma and part weak thrum of death.
She couldn’t stop eating it, tearing away until the fish was little more than bones. Only then did the reality set it. She’d killed it and lie bled out from between her fingers.
Someday, she would meet another creature who could kill her. Be that a bean sídhe wailing in the night, the Morrighan herself, or a careless human. No matter what it was, someday she would fade.
“No soul?” she whispered into the murk of the ocean.
Did she really not have a soul? She felt very similar to humans, always had, so certainly there was something? She was a faerie capable of love. That had to count for the god the humans prayed to.
Her meal fueled her muscles and helped propel her to the surface. The sail dug into her shoulder, leaving red welts that might take days to heal. Saoirse gritted her teeth and found Manus’s small boat.
It was vaguely where she’d left it, having shifted with the waves and drifted on th
e currents. The outline was as dark as the shadows in the depths, but somehow filled with a life she could see through the wood.
He leaned over the edge, strong hands grasping the rim of the boat as he tried to peer through the water to find her.
All at once, everything was all right. Her fears abated in the wake of love so powerful it burned her lungs and made her gills flare wide.
It was worth it, losing immortality and the inevitable fear of what might come. It was entirely worth it to know he existed and to feel this tingling emotion of love so vibrant and pure.
Air kissed her cheeks as she surfaced, and sunlight danced across her forehead. Saoirse blew out air to seal the gills flat to her neck. She grunted, lifted an arm, and hooked it over the edge of the boat.
“Manus,” she called out. “Come and take this, please.”
“Saoirse?”
His beloved face leaned over the side, staring down at her with an expression she couldn’t name.
“It’s heavy.” She lifted a shoulder to show the makeshift pack. “Take it, I think I got more than enough.”
He hefted the weight up and off her, shoving it into the center of the ship before leaning down for her.
“Come here,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Manus slid his hands underneath her arms and effortlessly pulled her into the boat. His biceps flexed, sunlight bouncing off his caramel colored skin. But it was the warmth she saw in his eyes that made her sigh in happiness.
“Wait,” she said. “Hold me on the edge please.”
“Why?”
“My tail, it needs to slide off and if we’re in the boat, I’m not sure we’ll get it out.” The mucus wasn’t pleasant on the best of days. She couldn’t imagine trying to pick it out of the boards.
“Ah,” he mumbled.
His arms slide underneath hers and he nudged her backward so she could lean against his chest. He rested his chin against her shoulder while they watched the sun rise.
“Manus?” she asked.
“What is it, my pearl?”
“I’m glad I’m here.”
He hadn’t asked her if there was danger under the waves. He must have felt her trembling, seen the raw fear in her gaze, understood she didn’t wish to give the terrors a voice. Instead, he held her safe and quiet against his heart.