The Search for Aveline

by Stephanie Rabig

  "Open your eyes," Marcel said, voice ragged, yet as commanding as a king.

  It would have been impossible to disobey, and Alvar had no intention of denying him anything. In the humid darkness, Marcel's eyes were the silver of mercury, the only light in the room. He could feel himself falling into those eyes, even as his body perched on the edge of oblivion.

  "I give you power over me," Marcel said. His breathless words seemed to echo from a great distance. "No magic cast will bind you. You will see all as it truly is. I give to you as you give to me."

  He could feel the bolt of power striking, grounding itself in his bones, spreading through his veins, just as they came together in a dizzying rush. He turned his cheek to Marcel's damp chest and shivered, certain that it would be days before he would move again, weeks before he could trust his legs to support him.

  The storm outside was beginning to die. The thunder receded to the east. The wind no longer howled and tore at the planking of the hut. The rain remained steady, a rhythmic tattoo against the roof, but it had gentled. Nature's fury had been spent. Very soon now, it would be quiet and peaceful across the beach.

  "What you did," Alvar said finally, surfacing from a lazy drowse. Marcel's fingers paused in their gentle combing through his hair. "That meant something, didn't it? For us, I mean. You did it to show me you truly trust me."

  "I unclouded your eyes," he said, confirming his suspicions. "No fae glamour will ever work on you again."

  "That isn't a gift that's often been given to a human, is it?"

  "No," Marcel agreed. "It's taboo to give a human that sort of power over us. The only reason my people have not been wiped out yet is because we can hide in plain sight with our glamours."

  Alvar managed to push himself up. He could make out the shape of Marcel's face in the darkness, the glitter of his eyes, though there wasn't a shred of light in the room. "What would your people do if they found out you'd done this for me?"

  "Kill me." His voice was so calm. A hand crept up to cover the crescent scar on his cheek and Alvar's heart twisted as if pierced by a knife. He pressed his own hand over Marcel's, the question unspoken. "One of my cousins stole the blacksmith's wife as she was washing in the creek, after her husband made the village protective horseshoes to hang above their doorways and bar us entrance. Feegan was angry because it kept him from playing his spiteful pranks, so he stole the woman to punish her husband. I pitied the girl, who was being tormented through no fault of her own. I set her free and guided her back to the safety of the village. When Feegan learned I was responsible for thwarting him, he put on a glove, took up an iron nail and marked me as one not to be trusted."

  Alvar kissed him fiercely, putting his arms around him in a protective embrace. He held him firmly until he felt the fae relax, the tension elicited by the old memory fading until he was supple once more. "No wonder you wanted to escape," Alvar murmured. "How could you ever be truly comfortable around someone willing to do that to his own family?"

  "Fae do not forgive or forget easily. We have codes, laws, that must be adhered to. For the good of all. And part of that code is to never trust a human. But I trust you."

  "I swear to you, Marcel, that I will never do anything to betray that trust."

  "I know you won't."

  They drifted off to sleep, warm enough in each other's arms that nothing else mattered.

  *~*~*

  The sun rose, as it always did at Nalani Island, in a glorious burst of pink and orange. Harry woke before Kai, crept out of the nook quietly, so as not to disturb Isabelle, stretched comprehensively, and set off along the edge of the beach. Doubtless, there would be some repairs to tend to after last night's squall, and she wanted to make sure nothing unexpected had washed up with the jetsam.

  Junia, Jo, Wil, and Silence were already sitting by the fire, having rigged up the huge stewpot and set it to boil. Wil was laying out biscuit patties on a hot stone. The air smelled delicious and the sky above was serene. They had a beautiful day ahead of them.

  "After breakfast, Jo and I will take stock of the buildings," Harry announced, helping herself to a steaming biscuit. "The morning will be spent on chores and any repairs, but everyone can have the afternoon free..."

  She trailed off, eyes narrowing as the door of a nearby hut swung open and a stranger stepped out, clad only in a loose shirt that fell to his knees. His skin was a pale, golden hue not unlike Hope's, his short hair black and tousled, sticking out at odd angles. He walked towards the fire with a definite bounce to his step and a crooked smile on his pointed face.

  "Morning!" he said to the staring, shocked, silent quintet. He crouched down, flashing a lot of bare skin, and deftly flicked two biscuits from the stone and into his hand. With a wink and a whistle, he stood and walked back the way he came, hooking a foot on the edge of the door to pull it closed behind him.

  "Who in blue blazes was that?" Harry demanded, the first to unthaw. "And why the hell did he look so familiar?"

  "Better question is: why was he wearing Alvar's shirt?" Wil asked.

  Remember

  She couldn't breathe.

  Aveline kept her mouth tightly closed, her body solely focused on the burning in her lungs and the way her vision was going dark; her mind solely focused on the way the stranger's sword had flashed and her little sister had screamed.

  Was Harriet still alive?

  Of course she was. She had to be. Jo was coming to meet her and she'd find Harriet, she'd get her to the doctor—

  Jo.

  She was never going to see Jo again. Either she'd turn into one of these things that the stranger had thrown her to or she would die here, and they would leave her body to rot right along with all the other skeletons she'd seen pinned to the ocean floor. Her family would never know what became of her.

  The creature holding her arms tilted its head, its eyes somehow registering mirth even though they were entirely black. Aveline kicked out again, her foot uselessly striking against the thing's scaly gray skin.

  She couldn't fight. Couldn't get away. All she could do was take a breath, and hope.

  She would change, and escape as soon as she was able. Find her way back to shore, find Harriet and Josephine, let them know she was safe.

  It would be all right.

  Even telling herself this, she couldn't make her mouth open, couldn't consciously decide to take a breath of the water she knew would kill her. Only when her lungs couldn't hold on anymore did she give in. The ocean rushed into her body, and everything went dark.

  *~*~*

  "What should we do? I've never seen one react this way before."

  "I have."

  The women spoke in guttural, wordless noises that Aveline nevertheless understood as words. She tried to focus on the voices, tried to open her eyes, found she couldn't do both. She reached out toward the people she heard, and found her hand enveloped in a rough grip.

  "Don't get too attached," the second voice said. "Last time this happened, the mer was useless. Couldn't talk anymore and could barely even swim. Just had to leave her and let nature have its way."

  "That won't happen," another voice said, and something in it was so familiar that her heart ached at the sound. Forcing her eyes open, Aveline saw a brown-skinned girl who couldn't be real. She wore a deep blue dress (her birthday, she'd saved up all her money and bought it for her for her birthday last year) and her black hair hung dry around her shoulders, though they were deep underwater. "You'll be all right," the girl said. "Just rest."

  Though Aveline knew the other girl had to be imaginary, her presence still made her feel safer somehow, and she closed her eyes.

  *~*~*

  "You are awake, sister?"

  She opened her eyes, waving her tail experimentally. It didn't quite look right. It was a deep, iridescent black, and of course it was supposed to be there, it was her tail, but it still didn't look right.

  Shouldn't there be legs?

  She looked up at her sisters, wh
o looked so different than she did—entirely gray bodies, wider mouths with pointier teeth—and tried desperately to cling to the ideas that seemed to be flitting away as quickly as fish did when they sensed a predator.

  Predator. They were predators. She was...

  She was also a predator?

  They were her sisters. She traveled with them. She was like them.

  "I... yes, I'm awake," she answered. "What happened?"

  "The humans attacked you," one of her sisters said. "We saved you."

  "It isn't true," a new voice said. Aveline quickly looked to the side, her mouth falling open when she saw something that didn't, couldn't exist. Something horribly familiar.

  There was a dark-skinned human floating there, black curls flowing around her face, staring at her solemnly. "It isn't true," she repeated. "Remember?"

  "I... I can't—remember what?"

  "Remember me."

  "Remember us," another voice said, and Aveline watched in disbelief as a skinny, pale girl with white-blonde hair appeared next to the tall young woman. The blonde hair matched the shade she could see floating around her own face... was she old enough to have a daughter? And if the girl was her child, why did she have legs?

  Wasn't Aveline supposed to have legs?

  "Who... who are... I don't know you. I don't know anybody," she said, abruptly feeling close to tears. She couldn't remember any of them, couldn't remember herself. She remembered a man. A human, grabbing hold of her arm. Pain. Screaming for help. Then water. "You saved me."

  "Of course we did," one of the sharkmaids said, swimming closer to wrap her arms around her. "You're one of us. I'm Anahera. Remember?"

  "No," she said. "But I will."

  *~*~*

  Anahera was the leader of their pod. She found new hunting ground, and provided for all of them. On nights when they weren't able to find much to eat, Anahera was the one who went hungry, making sure that all the rest of them went to sleep with full bellies.

  Kalea was Anahera's sister-by-blood. It was rare to find such a thing, Kalea had explained. Most of the time, pups were killed before the age of eight, when they grew old enough to potentially survive on their own. Other mers killed them on sight, simply because they were sharkmaids, hated oceanwide because they were carnivorous. Many confused them with sirens. Sharkmaids were not even given names until they reached their sixth year. It was fortunate to reach adulthood, let alone have a sibling survive alongside you.

  Only one of Kalea's pups was still alive, and she had not quite yet reached the age when she would be given her own name. She was simply known among them all as Pup or Young One.

  Uilani had never spoken a word to her. It wasn't out of cruelty; Uilani never spoke to anyone. She had asked Anahera about it one day, and her expression had darkened before she told her shortly that Uilani had been captured by humans when she was barely older than Pup. They'd managed to rescue her, but she hadn't spoken a single word since. When Aveline sang, Uilani looked at least close to contentment, so she made sure to sing whenever asked.

  Maata had a streak of cruelty, at least when it came to feeding. She would play with whatever animal she'd selected as prey, torturing it before dealing a death blow. It was a frightening thing to see, even more so because Maata was so chipper and sweet otherwise, forever telling jokes and hugging the others and trying to make sure she felt comfortable in the group.

  Chausiku was young and flighty, always darting off alone even though Anahera lectured her every time. Anahera had told Aveline privately that she knew Chausiku wouldn't always be with their pod, that she was too restless to be anything but a loner, but that she wanted to protect her for as long as she could. Lone sharkmaids so often ended up diced into pieces on some cruel fisherman's ship.

  Desta was the oldest of their group, and Aveline knew that she would never have a chance of surviving without their pod. She could still hunt, but barely, and oftentimes Anahera would cripple her prey before letting her finish it off. She was a devoted podmate and a superb storyteller, but Aveline couldn't help but worry how much longer she would be around, even with their help.

  Subira was the most serene person she'd ever known. She never lost patience with the Pup, even when she refused to settle down to sleep or darted amongst them asking the same question over and over again. She knew which seaweeds and other plants could be mixed to make healing potions, and even when Maata was thrown into a wall of coral and got her back sliced up so badly that Aveline had been certain she would die, Subira had remained calm, singing quietly as she applied her salves.

  The only thing Aveline didn't like about their routine was the hunts. She knew, of course, that they had to kill to survive, and no one could say that the fish or seals that they killed didn't die quickly―well, save for Maata's. But the sight of blood in the water always made her squeamish, even as it excited her podmates, and she wondered if she'd always been this way, or if it was something that had only recently developed. Hopefully, if it was a new development, it would be something she could overcome in time. She didn't have Subira's healing talents or Anahera's leadership qualities. They had been kind enough to take her in, to protect her. She wanted to be able to pull her weight.

  But the first chance she got to prove herself, she failed miserably.

  Their pod came upon a great cloud of blood in the water, with chunks of fish already in near to bite-size pieces slowly sinking toward the bottom. Maata and Chausiku and the Pup darted forward, eagerly gulping down the bits of meat, even as Anahera called to them to be careful, that they needed to assess this situation before they ate. But even she swam forward as the scent of blood invaded her nostrils, and Aveline watched as her expression changed, became something feral.

  Aveline was the only one to see the silver of the fishhook.

  She screamed a warning and swam forward, trying to pull the others out of there, but a great squall of pain overpowered her cries and she turned to see Kalea, clawing uselessly at her face, her cheek torn through by a curved, barbed hook. Aveline darted for her side, as did Subira, but before either of them could reach her, she was pulled upward by a great unseen force, screaming as the metal tore further through her cheek.

  "No!" Aveline cried, swimming as hard as she could, even as Subira turned to get the others out of the way, to make sure no one else was captured. She grabbed hold of Kalea's hand and thought for a brief, wonderful second that she might be able to do it, that she could pull Kalea free. Her cheek would be torn to pieces and she would have trouble eating for a time, but Subira could help her heal and they could slice her food into small pieces; she'd be all right—

  But the strength on the other end of the line was too much for her, just too much, and she found herself pulled upward as surely as Kalea was, and both of them broke the surface.

  There were three men standing in the vessel, pulling Kalea up, shouting in glee at the sight of her pained, bloody face. They yanked her into the boat, one of them tearing the fishhook out of her cheek. She opened her ruined mouth in a snarl, tried to bite them, but a fourth man lifted a rock and bashed in her head with it. Aveline cried out at the sound of the wet crack, and the men turned to her. Their smiles were horrifying things and she dove, screaming for help. Subira had gotten Anahera and the Pup out of the cloud of blood, and was swimming back in to rescue the others. Aveline swam to their leader, pointing to the surface.

  "It's your sister, they trapped her, she's—"

  She didn't have time to finish the sentence before Anahera tore past her. Aveline followed, almost shouted that it was too late, that there were four men and she would just end up getting herself killed, too, but of course there was no point to that, Anahera wouldn't listen—

  Of course she wouldn't. That was her sister.

  A memory forced its way into her mind—pale, blonde hair and bloody arm, a frightened furious cry—and then was gone just as fast, leaving Aveline shaken. She shook her head to clear it and then took off after Anahera, who had reached t
he surface. One of the men in the boat had grabbed an enormous spear, and was just taking aim with it when Aveline grabbed hold around Anahera's waist, dragging her back under the water. The spear cut through the ocean just to the left of them, and Anahera struggled out of her grip.

  "Stop!" Aveline cried. "The others; we have to get the others. We can't fight them alone!"

  Anahera stared at her, barely seeing her, and Aveline had trouble believing there had ever been a time when she'd believed those black eyes incapable of showing emotion. She wanted to pull her into a hug, wanted to console her, but now wasn't the time. Kalea might be gone, but that didn't mean they had to let those brutes keep her body.

  Finally, Anahera nodded once and swam back to where Subira had gathered the others. "They have Kalea," she said simply, and as one, all of the other sharkmaids rose from the ocean floor, following Anahera and Aveline toward the humans' ship.

  They were headed toward the safety of a larger vessel, but Aveline and the others intercepted them just as they reached it. All of them hit the side of the boat at once, upending it.

  Once the humans were in the water, they were easy prey. Anahera thrust her head forward, tearing out one man's throat with her teeth. Chausiku grabbed one of the men's legs as he tried to climb on top of the overturned boat.

  Blood enveloped them again, and Pup nearly bit down on Aveline's arm in her frenzy. Aveline had to tap her sharply on the nose to bring her back to her senses, and she clung to her tail briefly as an apology, and then swam to one of the sailors' bodies.

  "Kalea!" Anahera yelled.

  Aveline looked around. Her body should be floating there, should be—

  There were only three sailors. She had counted four in that boat.

  They hadn't gotten there in time. One of the murderers had gotten back onto the ship, and had taken Kalea's body with him.

  Anahera let out out a shriek of rage and ripped into one of the already-dead sailors so viciously that Aveline would normally have been terrified. As was, she stared up at the enormous shadow of the ship, knowing they could do nothing to save Kalea's body from whatever indignities were coming, and sobbed.