by Autumn Dawn
When the Sea Burned
by
Autumn Dawn
PUBLISHED BY:
Autumn Dawn on Smashwords
When the Sea Burned
Copyright © 2013 by Autumn Dawn
www.autumndawnbooks.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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When the Sea Burned
One will meld with the sea that seeks to claim her.
Prologue
The boy and his guardian floated by the throne. The mer ambassador was slumped on the dais steps, clutching his wounded side. The captain of the guard and two of his remaining warriors’ tails flicked as the door pounded, battered by the invading army. The boy king, no more than twelve, clutched the heavy trident. It had power but he was afraid it wouldn't be enough. His father had been killed, and he was all that was left of his family. He never wanted to be king, knew he wasn’t enough to protect his people from Olan’s invasion. They needed a miracle, one of the old heroes of legend, but he knew it was hopeless. He didn’t want to die.
The sounds of battle raged, shockwaves displacing the water tainted with blood.
The doors flew open with a surge of water and slammed shut. The surge became a lean man, an elemental with a hard face and a body of living water. The current carried him to a stop before the boy. He studied the boy for a moment, and held out his hand for the Trident, which hummed in anticipation. “I can stop them.”
“I know you,” the boy said in awe. He’d clung to the prophecies until he’d finally given up hope. “You're the king who will come again.”
The stranger nodded. “You're my nephew.”
The boy swallowed. “I can't stop them.”
“That's my job. Will you let me protect you?”
The boy hesitated before handing over the Trident. In the stranger's hand, it flashed and sizzled with power.
“Get behind me,” the new king said, and turned to face the door.
Chapter 1
She was drowning. Water swirled around her as the riptide tossed her gleefully, mocking her struggles as it dragged her out to sea. She needed air but she couldn't find up, and the night-dark ocean refused to release her. No ships were out at this hour, with no one to see her even if she could reach the surface.
Alicia hadn't seen it coming. An hour ago she had been at the Marina explaining the finer points of the yacht to three women who chartered it. The women had been expensively dressed in designer jeans and pricy, impractical shoes, hardly the types to stage a kidnapping. The tall, elegant black woman called Providence had waived a small bottle under Alicia's nose that instantly turned her sluggish, even passive. Providence had seated her and smoothed her creamy wool sweater, frowning thoughtfully at Alicia’s hooded sweatshirt as if contemplating fashion advice. The heavy gold disks of her necklace and bracelet winked gently in the fading light.
As they cruised the dark bay, the friendly Polynesian girl, Destiny, placed an ankle bracelet and a pinkie ring on Alicia and anointed Alicia’s head with oil that smelled like water lilies and sea grass. “This is no fun at all,” Destiny complained as she studied her handiwork. “If only the men wouldn’t be so stubborn! We could have a proper ceremony and a party. It would be so much easier on their ladies, too.” She noticed Alicia staring vacantly at her wide pink scarf and stroked it fondly. “Do you like it? It’s alpaca. I picked it up in Peru.”
Fortune snorted as she rummaged in the pockets of her cashmere coat. She might've been Spanish, with velvety cocoa skin and long, kinky reddish hair. “If they had been reasonable, we would never have taken their wedding jewelry in the first place.”
Providence stopped the boat. Fortune found a blue silk pouch and took one of Alicia's arms. With Destiny’s help, she heaved Alicia into the sea and dusted her with herbs, murmuring, “Seaberry, lotus and watercress, because you’ll need a little pepper to deal with him.” Louder, she said, “Fortune be with you. Oh, and kick Surge in the shin for me, will you? Tell him I'm tired of his petitions and grouch mail. Obviously, we're not going to let him marry a mermaid.”
Destiny rolled her eyes. “Destiny awaits.” She paused. “She has a point about the kicking.”
“Ladies,” Providence chided. “You’re talking about her future husband.” She waited until the other two subsided and regarded the girl silently, dazedly treading water. “Providence will guide you,” she said softly, and waved her hand.
The sea swallowed her whole. Alicia fought until precious oxygen escaped from her lungs and water flowed in, burning the delicate tissue. It was so dark, so bone-shaking cold as her body dissolved. She screamed in silent agony as salt water filled every cell, bursting into particles that melded with the brine. She was liquid, she was water…she was the sea.
Her consciousness spread impossibly wide, and she made contact with a distant presence. It registered shock and fury before she lost contact.
Alicia slipped away.
Surge realized what had happened as the newly made elemental made contact. He swore as her consciousness faded, raging at the Fates. He knew she was safe enough for the moment, but she would be forced into the sea soon. He needed to prepare.
He hated that a human was being forced on him. He’d spent centuries imprisoned because of them, and the last thing he wanted was a human wife.
He snarled as the current carried him in wide circles, the water elemental equivalent of pacing. He’d send someone to watch her. Much as he’d love to see the human world drown, he didn’t dare risk imprisonment again. He wouldn’t put it past the Fates to damn him for negligence if he didn’t control his “bride”.
He’d need somewhere to stash her, and the less water she had access to until she learned control, the better. Besides, a former human would probably go mad if she had to instantly adapt to living underwater. To her, it would feel like drowning.
He carefully didn’t think about what she had to go through to become like him. He was struggling with his rage as it was, and sympathy wasn’t welcome.
Snarling at the nearest guard, he gave him instructions and began to drain the palace.
Alicia stared at the ceiling until she recognized her surroundings. There was enough light spilling in from the harbor lights to recognize the bedroom on the yacht. She was on the floor, and apparently not dead.
She stood woozily, realizing she was wet and naked; her hair, normally bobbed and brown, hung to her waist in blue-green hanks. Her formerly short, unadorned nails had become perfectly manicured ovals; strong as talons and gleaming like opals in the half light.
“What did they do to me?” she muttered, snatching the quilt from the bed. Why had she woken beside the bed and not on it? Nothing made sense.
She flipped on the lights and flinched at the image in the mirrored closet doors. The hair was as bad as she’d thought, but her eyes were bizarre: a shimmering blue like the play of light on a clear stream. Her eyes had been brown, and the change was a shock.
She needed to go home. Wobbling to the door, sh
e made her way to the dock. The wood was rough and cold under her bare feet, and the harbor seemed deserted. The lights were still on in the office and the door was unlocked, thank God. Nothing seemed out of place, and her purse and keys were where she left them.
She realized later that she was in shock, and that was one reason why she didn’t call the police. It was all she could do to lock up and head for her car.
Monsters were real, and they were out to get her.
Behind her, a pillar of water rose and solidified on the pier, taking the shape of a man. He studied her grimly, following silent as mist, an elemental on a mission.
She didn’t notice her stalker until she’d reached her car and fumbled the keys. Her hands were shaking and her frantic efforts weren’t helping. She started when she saw him and made a desperate sound of denial. No more, not tonight.
“What is your name?” the man demanded. He stopped a car length away, too close for comfort.
Alicia was too scared to look at him. She dropped the keys and snatched them, her nails dragging on the concrete. “Go away!” She rammed a key into the lock and it got stuck halfway; it was wrong one. Sparks flew as she ripped it out, stripping the key. She glanced frantically at the stranger and froze as he melted. Faster than she could blink, the water flowed between her and the car and solidified.
Alicia jumped back with a terrified cry. “What are you? Leave me alone!”
He made no move to touch her. “Tell me your name.”
“Alicia,” she spat, tucking the keys between her fingers in sharp spokes. If he tried to hurt her, he was going to get scratched. This close, she could see he had black hair and light colored eyes, though she couldn't tell exactly what color under the streetlight. He was a little over average height, but contained a leashed power that made her feel dwarfed.
“Alicia,” he said, testing her name. “There is danger in the sea. Stay away until you’re ready to come to me. I don’t have time to run back and forth babysitting you.”
She could hardly believe he was warning her. After everything she'd been through, the last thing she wanted was to return. “Newsflash,” she snapped. “You're standing in front of my car.”
“Don't come back until you’re ready to stay,” he said sternly. “I don’t have time to run after you.” He touched her door lock, opening the formerly locked door. He dissolved into mist.
Alicia dove into her car and instinctively hit the locks, though it was obvious it wouldn’t stop him. Her tires squealed as she peeled out of the lot, missing a concrete pylon by a hair’s breath. Was he the one who sent the women to drown her? What could be worse than that? What had she done to deserve it?
She woke the next morning in her apartment feeling parched. She’d combed her hair last night after a ritual cleansing shower and confined it in a tail, thinking blearily about dying it. It had been a rich, glossy blue-green, but this morning it was as dry and brittle as dried kelp. Her skin itched, and lotion didn’t help. An entire pot of coffee and glasses of water barely quenched her thirst.
She didn’t understand how she could be dehydrated, but maybe the dip in the sea had done more harm than she realized. As soon as she thought about it, she craved salt water.
Groaning, she sank into a kitchen chair and ran a hand through her dry hair. All morning she’d yearned for something, a craving she didn’t want to acknowledge. Those witches, or whatever they were, had done more than drown her. They’d changed her, and now she longed for the sea like an addict craved gin. She wanted to swill it, swim in it, and it hurt.
She paced. Her skin felt too tight, and her bones ached. The last thing she wanted was to go back to the scene of her attempted murder. She had Epsom salts; maybe that would be enough. Seizing the idea, she hurried to the bathroom and dumped half a bag in the tub.
It helped. It didn't feel quite right, the balance of salt and water seemed off; perhaps some kind of mineral was needed. Closing her eyes, she tried to think what to do. She didn't dare go to the doctor and be treated like a freak. Same with the police; they would think she was on crack. She wasn't possessed, so priests were out, and as far as she knew the X-Men were fictional. Maybe there were mermaids after all, but it's not like they were the Yellow Pages. She felt her body settle heavily on the fiberglass and opened her eyes with a frown. They widened as she realized her body had absorbed the salt water, leaving a bone dry tub. With that much water in her system her skin should have looked plump, even bloated, but it was only slightly less withered than when she got in.
She frantically turned on the tap and added the rest of the salt to the water, but she knew in her heart it wouldn’t be enough. She was going to have to return to the sea.
She stood on the rocky shore and stared longingly at the ocean. Her lips were cracked and her eyes red and sore. She could hardly stand her dehydrated body, but fear held her back. Was withering to dry bones worse than drowning? Could the monster do worse to her than that?
Movement caught her eye and she saw a man heading toward her. Her heart crawled up her throat as she edged away, only to see another man on her left. Her car was too far away and she didn't trust her body to get there in time, not in its current condition. Seeing no choice, she hurried over the rocks to the ocean.
The men changed course to follow her. They seemed confident of their ability to catch her, for they didn't hurry. Dark-haired, of medium height, they radiated menace. Strangely, their clothes were wet and ragged, and both were barefoot. They didn't seem like homeless men, but she wasn't going to stop and question them. Taking a deep breath, she ignored her thundering heart and ran into the surf.
The sea welcomed her like a lover, surging into her dry tissues, filling her with strength and energy. The saltwater soothed her eyes, eased the brittle ache in her bones. Her skin absorbed it thirstily and her body relaxed, finally at peace.
Well, as peaceful as she could be with strangers pursuing her.
Panic fueled her strength as she dived under the waves, amazed at how well she could see and how supple her body felt. She'd never felt this strong, this whole. She felt like she could swim for miles without tiring, and suddenly felt confident that she could escape the pursuers.
Then she felt suction. Terror swamped her as she flashed back to the night before. The water man had found her, and he was going to tear her apart. She would drown, and this time she would die, because who could survive that twice?
She was sucked into a jar with a loud pop and the lid slammed closed and latched like an old-fashioned canning jar. She caught the flash of a tail as something swam by, then a merman stopped to give her a cursory glance. “Got her,” he said with satisfaction, his short emerald hair waving in the current. He wore a harness bristling with knives and pockets, and wide wristlets with metal darts. There was a dart gun holstered on his back, and he wore a metal collar sporting an octopus medallion. His scales were dark green, and he had gills at his throat.
A flurry of bubbles heralded the arrival of the men who’d chased her, now sporting gray and blue tails. They tossed a net over her jar as the leader detached a cable that anchored the jar to the sea bottom.
Alicia pressed against the glass as they towed her out to sea. It had happened so fast, it took her a minute to realize her panicked gasps were drawing in water. She took a moment to deal with that, feeling her throat for nonexistent gills. How was she breathing? She began hyperventilating, trying to suppress the panic.
The leader smirked at her. “Surge won’t be pleased to hear we have her.”
Alicia calmed enough to wonder who Surge was, but her heart still raced. She needed to escape.
“What if he doesn’t want her, Olan? He knew where she was and didn’t claim her,” one of the mer pointed out.
Olan slid a look her way. “Then I’ll give her to you and the others. He may not want her, but it will hurt his pride to have his bride used as my officers’ private whore.”
“We should take photos, sir, and post it on the mer net for
maximum devastation. A sex tape with her apparent cooperation would capitalize on the scandal.”
At first Alicia was devastated at the threat of gang rape and public shame. How could they callously discuss the logistics of hurting her as if she were nothing? Slowly, rage built, grew into a pressure behind her eyes. It crawled under her skin, demanding an outlet, so she gave it one. She pushed.
The jar exploded. Razor sharp shrapnel a quarter inch thick sliced through the water, taking one man in the armpit, past the ribs and into his lung. His friend cried out and clutched his tail. Several glass pieces were imbedded in it and scaled skin flapped open. Blood stained the churning water, and Alicia was glad. She welcomed the chaos; like the fury, it fed her power.
Such power! It surged, and she spun it like a child’s toy, revolving joyfully. The water spun with her, forming a whirlpool that grew like the legendary Charybdis. Like the ancient Greek sailors, the mermen wore looks of horror as the sea bottom tore away, drawn into the watery hurricane.
“Kill her!” Olan shouted. Blood flowed like smoke around him, but his hand was steady as he aimed the dart gun.
Alicia laughed and pushed, beyond fear as the whirlpool grew to monstrous proportions, exploding above the surface in a mile high geyser. She shouted, thrilled as the sea gleefully responded. She would create a tsunami! She would claim so much land for the sea, her name would be legend. Olan was swept away as the local fish were caught in her mad whirl. It was the best drug ever invented. She would have so much fun!
A jarring impact ripped her from the eye, clamping around her waist with steel arms. Alicia gasped as her power was siphoned and the sea calmed. The stranger adjusted his grip, effortlessly subduing her.