My bewilderment must be written on my face.
She turns her back to me and closes the distance between herself and Clay. “You see, Clay here, he’s not just any measly human. He’s special.” She runs the back of her hand down his frozen cheek and neck. I want to rip her arm off and feed it to a shark.
“I thought maybe you’d figured it out, and that’s why you wanted him so badly. Why you took him from me. But, no. You just looove him.” She makes the word a taunt. “Disgusting.”
“But useful,” her father pipes up, still focusing his efforts on the growing number of symbols emblazoned across the floor.
“Very useful.” She looks back at me. “It’s all about love, you see. She loved him so much, she sacrificed everything for him.”
“Who did?” What is she talking about?
“The bitch who caused all our problems. The Little Mermaid.”
“What in the Seven Seas does she have to do with Clay?” I’m losing my patience. Clay’s floating there, icy and trapped and running out of time.
“Everything. He’s where the story ends.” She whacks Clay on the arm, and he drifts through the water. She moves to his other side and whacks him on the other arm. She keeps this up, treating his body like a bouncing ball, abusing him like it’s a game.
“Stop! What story?”
“Come now,” her father says, putting down his brush and swimming toward us. His puce-colored tail swipes through the water in sharp, deliberate passes. He looks down his nose at me. “You know what story. Even humans know it. A beautiful young sea maiden makes an unimaginable sacrifice for the sake of love.” His voice sounds even more oily in his native Mermese.
“But in the real version, no one sang their way into the sunset to a happily ever after, that’s for sure,” Melusine says, finally ceasing her assault on Clay. “Like a little idiot, the Little Mermaid believed that love would conquer all. So, she struck a deal with the Sea Sorceress when she begged her to permanently banish her tail. If the prince married anyone but the Mermaid, the Mermaid would perish on the first sunrise after the wedding.”
Of course, I know all this. When I don’t say anything, Mr. Havelock picks up the thread.
“The Mermaid—your distant cousin, I believe?—managed to hold the prince’s interest for a time, but then he married another girl. A human princess, as well he should have. You should always stick with your own kind.” He glares at me and then at Clay, as if to make his point. “But the Mermaid had sisters, like you do.”
“Except they were much smarter than yours are.”
“Her sisters cared about her very much,” Mr. Havelock continues, as if his daughter hadn’t interrupted, “and didn’t want to see her throw away her immortality for a lower life form. They went to the Sea Sorceress and pleaded with her to spare their sister. They traded their lovely hair for an enchanted obsidian dagger. The Little Mermaid had a choice: kill her one true love with the dagger and turn back into an immortal Mermaid, or die herself at sunrise. Unable to take the life of the man she loved, the Little Mermaid chose her own death. And so, say the humans, ends the tragic tale.”
“Not!” Melusine interjects.
“Most decidedly not,” her father agrees.
“I know!” I make my impatience evident. Every Mer knows. “She refused and dropped the dagger into the ocean. The dagger unleashed a terrible curse the moment it hit the water. Because she had valued a human’s life above her own immortality, all Mer were stripped of our eternal youth and forced to live human lifespans.” I rattle off. “But what does that have to do with Clay?”
“All that research on his family and you never figured it out?” Melusine shakes her head in mock disappointment. She swims up close to me—too close—and clamps my chin in an iron grip. “Clay is the only direct descendant of that very same prince.”
What?
Everything fades away. The bruising pressure on my chin, the smug look on Melusine’s face, the seaweed holding me prisoner. All I’m aware of are her words and Clay’s unconscious, frozen face.
How is that possible? Clay’s an American. We don’t have royals. If he’s a prince, why isn’t he sitting pretty in Denmark with a crown on his head? Denmark … His family is from Denmark … where the Little Mermaid’s prince was from …
When we were going over our family histories, Clay said he was the last one left on his mother’s side. The side descended from the opera singer, Astrid. The one who was banned from the royal court after a scandalous affair. Could that mean … ?
“Long after the Little Mermaid’s prince had become king, an ancestor of Clay’s fell in love with the prince’s grandson. She had the grandson’s baby in secret, then disappeared.”
Astrid. It was Astrid. She moved to America to escape her shame and start a new life.
My thoughts whirl, and I have to concentrate on Mr. Havelock’s words. “My family has tried to track down the descendants of that baby for over a century. We nearly lost hope. And then help came from the most unlikely source. The humans.”
He moves toward Clay’s immobile body. “I despise humans, and I loathed every minute I spent among them each time I snuck up to land over the years to continue the search, the way my father and grandfather taught me. Humans multiply and pollute. Their sonar kills our whale and dolphin hunting companions, their thirst for oil and nuclear energy poisons our seas, their exploratory missions force us into hiding. Yes, human technology has devastated our home in many ways. But it has also made information easier to access than ever before. And this information led me to finding the one person I thought was lost forever.” He pats Clay’s head like he’s a prized racehorse. “Ancestry websites, immigration documents from over a century ago, birth records—all right there at my fingertips once I taught myself to use human machinery. Yes, I have known this boy’s identity for over a year now. Just enough time to finish preparing Melusine—to have her perfect her English and leg control—so I could bring her on land to perform her part.”
“The Little Mermaid should have killed her prince two hundred years ago. If she had, we never would have been cursed,” Melusine says, releasing my chin at last. “Killing Clay tonight will solve our problems. Killing Clay will free us all.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I can’t let her do it. I test my bonds again, pressing against them as subtly as I can. Pain shoots up my bent tail. The restraints don’t budge. I have to keep her talking, keep them talking, until I can figure out what to do.
“Why tonight?” I ask. “You’ve had plenty of time alone with Clay. If you wanted to kill him, why didn’t you do it while you were still dating, or as soon as you knew I was on to you?”
“What day is it?” Melusine spaces out each word like I’m an idiot.
Oh! I am an idiot. “The two hundredth anniversary.”
The water muffles Melusine’s applause.
“The curse can only be changed every one hundred years, at sunrise.” Mr. Havelock explains. “My family would have changed it on the one hundredth anniversary, but they had found no descendant. That’s why tonight’s so important, Miss Nautilus. Why the approaching sunrise is so crucial.” In the green glow of the jellyfish, his face looks even more angular, even more intimidating. “I’m glad you’re here to celebrate with us.”
“Yeah, Lia, wanna party? Maybe when we wake Clay up, he can sing for us. If he’s still breathing.” Melusine laughs again, sending bubbles skittering around our heads.
I need to distract her. To get her out of my face and give myself time to think. “If you didn’t need Clay until tonight, why did you bother sirening him? Did you just want to mess with him?”
“I’ll leave you girls to your gossip,” Mr. Havelock interrupts. “I need to retrieve the artifact.” With no further explanation, he swims across the large room and disappears through an archway into the darkness beyond.
“Alone at last,” Melusine says, swimming around me in a slow circle
before stopping in front of my face again. “To answer your question, I might hate humans, but playing with them sure can be fun.” She winks lasciviously at me. If we weren’t in the water, I’d spit in her face. Instead, all I can do is clench and unclench my hands behind my back, causing painful, needling tingles. My hands have long-since gone numb. So much for taking her down while we’re alone.
“But no,” she continues, “I sirened Clay for a reason. Like I told you before, this story’s all about love.”
“You love Clay?” I ask in disbelief.
“Don’t be gross,” she shoots back. “I could never love a lower life form.” She waves a hand, dismissing the idea. I bristle. My parents would never have allowed me or my sisters to refer to humans as lower life forms. They’re not. And they’re certainly not any lower than the despicable Mermaid in front of me who keeps talking as if she hasn’t just insulted an entire species. “The crux of the curse is love. The Little Mermaid loved the prince, and he broke her heart. She didn’t just die for him. She died heartbroken. Understand? We don’t just need Clay to die. We need him to die heartbroken. We need someone he loves to break his heart.”
She lets her words sink in, then continues, “That’s why Daddy needed my help. He explained everything to me before we surfaced. Before we came to live in your stifling little Community. He told me that I needed to make Clay love me and keep him in love with me until the anniversary, so I could break his heart.
“I thought it would be easy. Laughing at the right jokes, a few well-timed hair flips. How hard could it be to get a human boy to fall for someone like me? I mean, look at me.”
I do, despite myself. I can’t deny she’s beautiful. Stunning even. I don’t know which are more arresting, her dazzling, piercing eyes or her impossibly high cheekbones. Her diamond-studded siluess draws attention to her full, feminine chest. The water makes her ebony hair fan out in long, curling tendrils around her head. In the dim light, her coral-colored tail blends into her creamy skin, making her appear almost naked and decidedly sexual.
“But he didn’t fall in love with me. He dated me, held me. But no matter what I did, he didn’t love me.”
I remember what Clay said. That love didn’t matter. That it hadn’t kept his parents together. It was almost like he didn’t want to fall in love. Maybe he went out with Melusine at first because he didn’t love her. Because he thought she was safe.
Boy was he wrong.
“Then Daddy and I remembered that in some other ancient spells, the siren bond had worked as a substitute for real love. It was a risk, but time was running out. So I sirened Clay.
“He obeyed me. Lusted after me.” She smiles, knowing the words bother me. I’m jealous, even now. I’ve only ever kissed him once. A stolen kiss.
“He clung to my every command,” she continues. “It wasn’t real love, but I hoped it was enough to satisfy the ritual. Then you came along and took him from me. At first, I panicked. I knew I had to go to any lengths I could to get him back before the anniversary.”
“So you poisoned him.” Rage boils in my veins at the memory of Clay’s painful seizures.
“When you came to me afterwards, when I saw how shaken you were, I realized you really loved him. And since you felt so strongly for Clay, there was a higher chance that under your siren spell, he’d experience real love. And after all, as long as a Mermaid breaks his heart on the anniversary of the curse, it doesn’t matter which Mermaid. So, I let you have him, and then I brought him here.” She crosses her arms over her chest, a look of victory on her deceptively delicate face. “I knew you’d take the bait.”
Her meaning seeps into my every pore. I’m going to be sick again. “So, if I hadn’t come … ”
“Then we couldn’t perform the ritual. Killing Clay would be useless if you weren’t here to break his heart first.”
“I won’t do it. I WON’T DO IT!” No matter what they do to me, if it’s in my power to keep Clay safe, I will. Or I’ll die trying.
It’s that last part that terrifies me.
“Oh yes you will, my dear.” Mr. Havelock’s voice is hard as he swims regally back into the room carrying a silver box the length of my forearm. “If you refuse to see reason, we have ways of making you do our bidding.”
“They won’t work,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “Even the ritual won’t work. Killing Clay won’t break the curse. It can’t be broken. All the experts have agreed on that for two centuries.”
“And that’s why we don’t intend to break it,” Mr. Havelock says. “Just … twist it. We don’t know how to break the curse, but we can mollify the magic—lessen its effects—by giving it Clay’s life.” His words are informed, but cold. Detached. “Clay’s life will replace the life of the prince, which should have been taken long ago. Clay’s death will appease the curse for one hundred years.”
I don’t want this to be true, but I don’t know what to say against it. So, I poke at the glaring hole in their logic. “And what happens then? Clay’s an only child. If you kill him tonight, he won’t have any descendants in a hundred years. We’ll be right back where we are now.”
“That’s the beauty of this ritual, Miss Nautilus.” He strokes the silver box as he speaks. “Once we kill Clay, any human life will do. We kill one human every hundred years in this same ritual and all Mer enjoy immortality.”
“That’s why you don’t want to mess with us,” Melusine adds. “As long as our family has the secret to the ritual, all Mer will recognize our power.”
“You mean they’ll have no alternative if they want to live. That’s tyranny,” I say. The residue from whatever they used to drug me has left a sour taste in my mouth.
“That’s how to ensure a dynasty.” Mr. Havelock’s voice loses its objectivity. A mad spark lights his eyes. “Our family will rule for all time. Stretching through the generations. That’s been the plan for nearly two hundred years. When the curse first took effect, no Mer were spared. Even the Sea Sorceress herself, who was quite old, began to wither. When she was on her deathbed, she told her nursemaid—my ancestor—all about the curse. And she told her where to find this.”
With careful fingers, he undoes the latch on the box and opens the lid. I have to pitch myself forward in my bonds to see inside, yanking painfully on both my arms and tail. There, resting on a cushion of the finest seasilk, lies a dagger with a black blade.
It can’t be.
“The very same obsidian dagger that cursed us all those years ago. Beautiful, isn’t it?” He lifts it out of the box by its ruby-encrusted, iron hilt. The sharpened point of the long, spiny blade glints in the green light. Beautiful? I’d go with horrifying. Even from a foot away, I can feel its power. Dark and metallic, like spilled blood.
“Just as our family has passed down the knowledge of the siren song for generations, we have also passed down this dagger in secret, as we bided our time. As we searched for the descendant we needed. Tonight, we will unify all Mer under our reign.”
“And you’ll help us,” Melusine says.
“Like hell I will.”
Mr. Havelock moves behind me. I try to crane my neck around to keep him in my sights, but it’s impossible. Then Melusine places her hands on my shoulders. “Allow me.”
She spins my body around in its seaweed bindings. Mr. Havelock has seated himself on a gigantic chair fashioned from igneous rock. It’s imposing and studded with hundreds of aquamarine gemstones, the symbol of royalty. This once-stately hall with its archways and mosaic was the throne room.
And Mr. Havelock looks too comfortable on the throne.
When Melusine approaches him, he hands her the dagger, and she accepts it with a bow of her head.
“Reason with her,” he tells his daughter.
She swims back to me, and I keep my eyes glued to the dagger’s obsidian blade the whole way.
Now she’s right in front of me. Will she cut me? Stab me?
Holding
the hilt, she rests the blade innocently against the palm of her other hand.
“Lia, remember when I told you we didn’t have to be enemies? It’s still true. I’m not the bad guy here.”
“You sirened Clay,” I spat.
“So did you. You had a good reason; you wanted to save him.” She looks straight into my eyes with what looks like sincerity. “I had a good reason; I wanted to save everyone.”
“You want to kill humans. And not just Clay. You want to kill a human—take an innocent life—every century. Forever.” How could anyone do that? All those lives … all the people she plans to murder, each with a family …
“Grow up, Lia. There are always sacrifices.” Then the tension in her expression smoothes out. “You know, I think we’ve gone about this the wrong way.”
She turns me so I’m no longer facing her father, but I’m not facing Clay either. It’s just her and me.
“We can be on the same side.” The palm of her hand presses against the bare skin of my upper arm. She still grips the dagger in the other. “You’ve grown up in the human world, and it’s skewed your priorities. But this is your heritage. You’re Mer, Lia. You have a responsibility to your own kind. Tonight, we can save our entire species from death. We can give them back the immortality they deserve for just one human life every hundred years. It’s a small price to pay. The humans are lower than us. They die anyway.”
I don’t want to hear this. I angle my torso back, away from her, but it pulls on my bonds and I writhe in pain. She leans even closer, her face inches from mine. “Their lives flicker out like the fire they rely on for survival. But ours shouldn’t. Ours are meant to be so much more.
“Don’t you want that for yourself, Lia? For your family?” she asks. “They’ll die. If you don’t help me tonight, your whole family will die. Your sisters, your parents.” Her cherry lips form vile words I don’t want to acknowledge. I shake my head.
“Yes, they will. Your parents have only forty or fifty years left—and that’s if they’re lucky. You care about protecting people. Don’t you want to protect them?”
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