“Nothing, Kate. Not a drop. They’re mer. Anya rescued me in the reef in mermaid form. She made the sharks turn back when I was all but a snack. And she transformed in a cave off the beach. Her tail is beautiful, glorious really. It’s like a sapphire, no, an aquamarine, all green-blue and matches her eyes. And she has scales that are a little darker and in the shape of a starfish near what would be her ankle. She has slits under her ribs where her gills open. They look like old scars, all whitish pink, when she’s in human form.”
I continued on, not bothering to take more than a breath. “She followed the boat for almost a week to see what we were doing near the island. She saw the light take out the boat, and she has tried to help us the entire time. With the boat, with our research. She saved my life. And now she needs us. But I can’t ask you to stay. You don’t know her like I do, and you don’t owe her.”
Lucy caught my eye then, her face pleading for me to stop my rant and allow them to catch up. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let any of them speak before I explained the last bit of information.
“Her tribe is in trouble. There’s a chance that the light could take them out. And while we don’t expect that will happen, we know that it will be visible to the coast of Florida within months. That gives them, us, very little time to figure out what’s happening before humans head out to investigate.
“But beyond the light and the trench,” I finally spat out, “they need help protecting the light. Another tribe thinks they created it to use as a weapon, and I’m guessing they could try to take it. Since we don’t know what it is or what it does, their intrusion could only make things worse. She needs help to learn everything she can. She needs help protecting her island and her tribe. She needs me. I love her and she needs me.”
The last part surprised even me.
Twenty-three: Anya
LUKE STOOD IN the open door, flanked by his team. The look on his face proved he heard Gregorio’s last comment, but he remained undefeated. The crowd in the lab parted, offering him a path to me. He didn’t bother to look around the room. Instead he locked eyes with me and determinedly pushed past Gregorio to get to my side.
He reached me and took my hands.
“What do you need us to do, Anya? How can we help?” he asked.
Looking up into the faces of the team, I asked, “Does that mean you’re staying?” And with my gaze settled on Kate, I added, “All of you?”
She took a breath and answered fluidly, “Yes, Anya. We are staying. I can’t promise how long I’ll be able to stick it out, but we know everything, and we’re going to help.”
“Did you hear that? They know everything,” Gregorio pointed out to the group of mer mumbling.
“Yes, I explained all I know,” Luke replied. “It is only fair that my team, my friends, know who they’re staying here to help and defend. I’m sure you’d expect the same courtesy, Gregorio, if you were asked to help someone. That and probably much more.”
“Fair enough, but let’s get to that then. What else do you expect? I’m sure you aren’t willing to do any of this without some form of compensation,” the mer asked with a bite in his voice.
“In fact, we are,” Lucy interjected. “Maybe you merfolk are a bit more externally motivated than humans. Who knows?”
“We care about the sea, man. That’s all,” Norton added. “And Lucas. And he cares about Anya, so we’re here. Don’t bother trying to shake us.”
Leaning over, Luke kissed my cheek and helped me to my feet.
“If you’ll have us, Anya, we’re here to help.”
I looked to Jinsen, waiting for his opposition. However, he merely nodded slightly, the equivalent of rousing acceptance for my generally restrained uncle.
Then, looking to each of the humans in front of me, seeing their acceptance of and concern for me, I addressed my tribe.
“Everyone, everyone. Please hear what I have to say. The humans, these amazing people here, are willing to stay with us. They are willing to continue their research along with ours, to assist us in understanding what is happening to our ocean, our home, and our lifeline. They’re accepting of our differences, as we should be of theirs, and they have offered to stand alongside us as we prepare to protect ourselves against the Trisanthian tribe.
“Let’s not turn away valuable allies because they aren’t mer. By staying with us, they’re sacrificing. They’re staying far from their families and their own world. How many of you would do the same for strangers?”
A low rumble started as I finished speaking. Mistakenly, I figured it to be voices starting up again. To my surprise, no one had started to protest, however. Yet the sound grew louder. In unison, everyone turned to the lab’s large windows facing the reef. There, in our own bay, light danced on the waves as the sound continuously deepened and intensified.
Luke, first to figure out the danger in the bay, yelled above the roar, “Down! Everyone down!” And then, as the light grew larger and closer together, he found my hand in the crowd just seconds before the metallic crash and explosion shook the lab and sent all of us sprawling.
About the Author
Carrie L. Wells has been writing her whole life. A winner of the Young Author’s award in third grade, she attempted to avoid writing by becoming a biology major. That didn’t work as she had planned and she ended up teaching English in a few places before co-writing two textbooks and moving on to fiction. Originally from New England, she moved to Florida with her family during high school, earned a Bachelor’s degree from the University of Central Florida and later a Master’s degree in English from Hardin-Simmons University. She has worked as a journalist, copy editor, public relations agent, educator, retail clerk, and waitress before they were called servers. She now spends time with her husband, three kids, various animals, and a barrage of students in Florida while teaching English at Eastern Florida State College.
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The Mermaid’s Den by Ella Malone
Laura and Tom Flynn married after she fell for him hook, line, and sinker — literally. Finding Laura in his fishing net had been a shock for Tom, but one he came to embrace as they quickly fell in love. For fifteen years, they have lived and worked by the sea, and Laura hasn’t thought once of what she left behind when she chose to marry Tom. She doesn’t regret giving up her mermaid form. It wasn’t a sacrifice. It was a good decision, and one she made to survive.
Now, with Tom missing at sea, Laura faces a decision she swore she’d never consider. In order to search for Tom and his crew, she must become a mermaid again and face the demons of the deep that she eagerly dodged when trading in her tail. Or she can stay on land and continue her life, but without Tom.
Does she enjoy her future alone, without the man she loves, or face her fears and her past in the ocean? Either way, nothing will be the same for her again.
Prologue
“If you swim away now, Laura, you’ll never be able to return. Never,” Diana, my queen, emphasized, staring down at me through steely, gray eyes.
I knew this. She wasn’t being dramatic. She was right, and I understood. I knew our laws, and I knew our traditions. But what Diana didn’t understand was my inability to do what she needed of me.
I had a choice, but a problem remained. Each of my options left me alone, far away from what I most desired.
I wanted to remain with my sect, but I refused to be sold into what was essentially slavery. Being the seventh wife of Tritonia’s son, the crowned prince, was not a life for me. While it may offer protection for my tribe during a time of upheaval, trying to supply an endless line of male heirs seemed far worse than leaving the tribe or even the ocean. At least leaving would be a choice I made on my own.
But either way, I would leave my home, my friends, and my
lover. And if I was going to be alone, I’d be alone on land and forget the sea entirely.
One
“Wait, wait,” I called to my new husband. “You’re walking too fast.”
“Too fast?” he said. “Really? Can’t keep up, Mrs. Flynn?” He grabbed me, cradling me in his arms.
The last glass of champagne at our wedding reception had left me hazy, smiling, and tripping on the cobblestone sidewalk. Tom wasn’t in any better shape. He could walk straight, but that last beer tipped him past his usual mellow buzz and pointed him at slap happy.
Laughing at me as I stumbled yet again, he helped me balance, asking, “Why don’t you take off the damn heels?”
“No way. There are fish guts on this sidewalk,” I said, shocked he’d suggest I remove the gorgeous, white, silk shoes.
“But if you leave them on, you’ll be on the sidewalk, too.”
He had a point, but I wasn’t willing to concede. I struggled to take another step, laughing and lunging at his arm. He caught me in a hug, pulling me close, looking into my eyes. He kissed me softly before he spoke.
“You make my life, Laura Flynn.”
Jolted from my memory, I dropped a glass as George Sullivan called to me across the bar, “Hey, Laura, another beer?”
“Dammit,” I said, slicing my finger on the glass’s jagged edge. “Sorry, George. Have it right there.”
Wrapping the small slice with a bandage, I poured the draft and carried it over to George who was looking up at the television in the corner.
“Looks like a real Nor’Easter starting up,” he grumbled in his thick Boston accent. “Wind’s coming in fast.”
After fifteen years in Salisbury, Massachusetts, I could finally understand almost everything the guys said. I’d even adopted a bit of their cropped speech, leaving the r off words here and there.
“Sounds like it. Channel 9’s been talking about it all day.”
And it had. So much so that I was already sick of hearing about the storm and it hadn’t even hit. Granted, living in a fishing community, we spent more time than probably anywhere else in the country thinking about, talking about, and complaining about the weather.
George looked down as I handed him the beer, and asked, “So, Tommy still out?”
“Yeah. I’m not expecting him until tomorrow, maybe later. You know he’ll stay out if the weather’s too much,” I explained. George, a retired fishing boat captain, had known my husband since his childhood and had captained the first boat Tom had worked. He knew Tom to be a cautious and smart captain. And with a storm raging on the coast, if necessary Tom would stay as far away as possible in order to keep his boat, his crew, and his catch safe.
“Stay out in the brine until the sun shines,” George rhymed.
With every rain or snow, I had heard the rhyme cautioning captains to stay at sea during bad weather. Tom chanted the rhyme to me the first time we met. Little did I know it would become a tenant to live by once he captained his own boat.
I smiled at George as he raised his beer in my direction in a silent cheers. His face seemed to soften and the wrinkles in his forehead lessened with his first swallow. But even with the alcohol-related rejuvenation, his face grew more leathery each day. He was a walking example of how difficult life was at sea.
Looking out the window, I saw the sky, dark and gray, hanging there, waiting. It suddenly opened, emptying itself violently. The low rolls of thunder echoed, shaking the building.
The bar door opened and a few young fishermen came in from the cold and wet, shaking it off as they crossed to a table.
I approached the men, drying my hands on the towel tucked through my belt loop.
“Hey, Laura,” the taller of the two called as I approached. He peeled off his jacket. “Damn rain couldn’t wait. I was at the door and bam. Starts pouring. How goes in here?”
“Hey, Paul. I didn’t recognize you all sopping wet. You two look like drowned rats.” I walked back to the bar and grabbed some dry towels. Tossing them to him, I asked, “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll take a Coors on tap and a burger, medium,” he said, running his hands through his shaggy, wet hair.
“Alright, and you, Mack?”
Lewis McIntyre tore his eyes off the window to answer, “Same here. Really coming down now. Bet a ton of boats are stuck today.”
“I’m sure. Nothing we aren’t use to, right guys?” I asked with a smile and what I hoped was a relaxed demeanor.
As often as I watched the rain come down and realized Tom and the boat would remain at sea, anxiety seemed to build with each rain drop. I flipped my hair over my shoulder and put on my happy face, vowing to fake it until the weather changed for the better.
The day wore on. I doled out draft after draft, my body weight in burgers, a few cups of chowder here and there, and plenty of chit chat.
The news droned on about the rain, showing large green radar bands moving southwest across the screen.
“This is Scott Nelson, reporting for Boston’s Channel 9. It looks like the weather won’t be letting up any time soon, folks. Logan has delays at this point, and we’ll be looking at that in just a bit. So get your galoshes ready, and consider building that ark. We’ll be here all night watching the storms for you, so keep it tuned to Channel 9 for the most accurate up-to-the-minute forecasts.”
I put off calling Tom’s cell phone until this point, knowing I’d only be able to reach him if he were close to the coast. But, as I watched the last piece of day disappear, I figured I’d check now, just in case.
I picked up the bar’s cordless handset and dialed the number I knew by heart. I listened to the four rings before hearing Tom’s voice say, “Sorry, can’t answer my phone. Laura, leave a message. Everybody else, piss off.” He thought he was pretty clever for that outgoing message and despite my protests, he kept it.
“You sound really mean, Tom,” I’d reasoned. “Maybe you don’t want to tick off your buyers when they call.”
“Laura, my buyers are all guys like me. They’ll laugh and leave a message or they’ll laugh and call back later. Besides, why shouldn’t I tell it like it is?” he asked me. “I don’t wanna hear from anybody but you.”
Other guys were afraid of saying “I love you” or admitting to caring about their wives, but not Tom. He was open and friendly, and he let everyone know he was mine and mine alone.
For our first anniversary he had my name tattooed on his left arm, explaining, “The first year is paper, but the guy was out, so I let him use my arm instead.”
He was a wonderful man and an even better husband, and in moments like this, as it was dark and cold, I missed him.
As the rain continued, patrons came in looking for a warm, dry place that wasn’t home. After years running The Mermaid’s Den, I realized that people only came here when home wasn’t as welcoming as the bar. They didn’t rush here after work if they had what they wanted at home. But I was happy to have a clean place for folks to meet, grab some good food, and have a drink on nights like this. Sitting home alone was depressing even without the rain. With a storm like this, you needed people around you and good laugh. And as long as everyone was laughing, the night, despite the storm, would go smoothly. It’s when laughs turned to hurt feelings and thrown punches that problems started.
The attitude in the bar stayed friendly through the end of my shift. Despite that, by the time nine o’clock rolled around, I was ready to head upstairs to a hot bath and a cup of tea. I still hadn’t heard from Tom. I hadn’t expected to, but if I was honest with myself, there was nothing I hoped for more. Just knowing he was safe and outside the storm bands would ease my mind. No such luck though, and I was left to assume.
While living above the bar wasn’t always a blessing, not running to my car and fussing with the lock in the rain was a bonus. Instead, I said my goodbye to Clyde and Tracey, the two employees closing up that night, and turned to head upstairs.
“Turning in, Laura?” Larry, a regular and c
aptain of the boat Dead-line, asked as I finished my shift inventory.
“Yes, sir. The rain makes the day so much longer.” I looked past Larry, to the window. I could see, in the light from the street lamp, the fat raindrops as they hit the roof of my car.
“Try being out in it all day. I wish I’d just stayed at sea really. Hell of a fight to get to dock, and we came in early.”
“When did you tie up?” I asked.
“About 2 or so. But it took more than an hour to off load. That’s the real bitch. I almost fell into the drink three or four times docks were so slick. My damn greenhorn fell on his ass laughing at me.”
“That’ll teach him, Lare,” I laughed. The thought of Larry taking a dive was too much for me. He was a big man, so the image of a redwood falling came to mind. I could easily hear his men yelling, “Timber” in my head. “Was he hurt?”
“Nah, just his pride. And that cocky little ass could do with being taken down a peg.”
“I’m sure. But don’t be too rough on him. Don’t you remember what you guys were like when you were green?”
“Nothing like these kids, Laura. I swear. They can’t find the stern of the damn boat.”
I laid my hand on his arm in sympathy. “Tom says the same thing. But you’ll learn ‘em. They can only get better, right?”
“Jesus, I hope so.” His eyes softened as he changed subjects. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Get yourself upstairs and don’t go worrying about Tom. You know he’ll be just fine.”
“Your mouth to God’s ears, Larry,” I said and gave Tom’s best friend, and the best man at our wedding, a hug.
My extended family surrounded me every night in The Den, with its rich mahogany bar and framed photographs of the town’s fishing crews and boats, past and present. There were a few pictures of our dog, Murdock, one each of the local police and fire crews, and one of the girls’ softball team we sponsored. It was a nice bar, and looking at it that night, I decided it was more than nice. It was perfect.
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