Bluehour (A Watermagic Novel)

by Brighton Hill

  “Not mermen?” I smiled, my eyes widening in playful challenge.

  He returned the smile, but his was wry. “We have other flaws.”

  I traced the outline of his body with my eyes. “What are those?” I asked trying to hide how enraptured I was with him; though I think my attempts were unsuccessful.

  He contemplated for a moment, “That’s for you to find out.” His entrancing voice was facetious, causing stars to flash in my mind when he said that.

  Before I could respond, he continued, “My feelings for you are different than the other girls.” If I wasn’t mistaken, it looked like his cheeks flushed. His voice was laced with underlying intensity that excited me. “Sabine must sense that. She is acting irrationally, taking risks.”

  My heart fluttered at his admittance of feelings toward me. My body felt weak again and I just wanted to stare at his beautiful bronze face, but I restrained myself of the satisfaction. “Aren’t you afraid to get a traffic ticket?” The odds were against him driving at such speeds on the open highway.

  “Sonar detection.” He repressed his amusement as he pointed at his head.

  My face contorted. “What?”

  Chuckling at my expression, he explained, “I emit sound pulses and measure their return after being reflected. The process is as natural as breathing is for a human being.”

  My eyes widened. “So if you can detect an object, how can you tell the variation from a cop car to a regular car?”

  “The police around here only drive so many types of vehicles. I know those variations and I pick up on the radar waves and CB systems. If detection is questionable, I slow and use my eyes.”

  “Not bad.” I laughed, feeling rather shocked. “Where are we going?” I asked, wondering why I waited so long to inquire. But as I thought about it, I knew why. I didn’t care where we were going just as long as I was with him.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “Now that Sabine sees my attachment to you, she will not cease to attack until you are dead. You cannot return to your family until I kill her.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes at the thought of how much my parents would worry about me if I disappeared. They would be heartbroken.

  His voice became soft like a lullaby. “I’m taking you to a hotel down south.” He looked at me with compassion in his ocean blue eyes. “I am sorry, Grace. I should have killed her when I had her weeks ago. Trident law forbids murder between mers in defense of humans. We are required to be loyal to our kind at all costs.”

  “What is the punishment for committing such a crime?” I sat with my hands folded in my lap, trying to hide my emotions.

  “They will tear me to pieces in a public arena.” His face was expressionless as he kept his eyes on the highway. “But I don’t intend to get caught.” Mischief riddled his features.

  My eyes lit up with hope. “How do you plan to do that?”

  “I don’t know.” He laughed.

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not,” he said seriously. “But our school has already defied mer convention in numerous ways and gotten away with it. We are already on watch lists for our choice as land dwellers. Though we don’t break the law, our ways are rebellious.”

  I shifted my position in my seat and turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “We are against killing humans and that is counter to mer nature.” His melodic voice became intense. I sensed he was passionately driven in his beliefs. “That is like sharks refusing to eat flesh. It’s just not their inclination to rise above their innate instincts in pursuit of higher cause. Our decisions are outlandish to mers, radical.” He shook his head. “It is wrong to eat human beings.”

  His sense of purpose impressed me. I loved that he took action on what he believed. So many people were followers, but he had the confidence and determination to rebel against his entire kind. I respected the très beaux now that I knew their intentions were altruistic. “Have you ever killed a person?” I asked somewhat hesitantly. I had a way of asking explosive questions at the worst times.

  He didn’t seem upset though. To my surprise, he appeared detached now like he was lost in thought. “Yes, Grace. Unfortunately, I have. It is extremely difficult for us to control our predatory appetites and I expect I could easily lose control again. It’s almost like telling a human being to never get angry at anything for the rest of his or her life.”

  “Impossible,” I responded in disappointment.

  “That’s my point.” He looked at me straight in the eyes. “I’m not a hero, Grace.” His voice was slow. “My vulnerabilities are immense.”

  “But, you want to do the right things,” I insisted, trying to comfort him.

  “Sometimes,” he whispered with a glint of the wicked in his eyes.

  Chills ran up my spine, but I pushed to get more answers, “What do you mean?” I wanted to know everything about him. Although he didn’t see himself as heroic, I did. He had saved me from death three times. And now, he was risking his life on my behalf.

  His expression was cold now, almost like a blank stare as he watched the highway. “I didn’t try to save the other girls Sabine killed. Maybe I would have had the opportunity raised, but you’re the only one I won’t let die.” His tone was adamant with a hint of anger.

  I shook my head lightly in bewilderment. “Why me? I don’t understand.”

  “You get under my skin.” That was all he said. His tone was matter of fact. But the words were so powerful that I was breathless.

  I was blushing now. My heart beat so rapid I almost feared it might burst out of my chest. I felt entirely flustered and couldn’t, for the life of me, think of any more questions as I sat stiffly in the seat trying to regain my equilibrium.

  He took this lull in the conversation to start drilling me with question after question about me and my boring life. I liked the attention, but felt silly revealing how uninteresting I was.

  To my surprise, I got the impression that he seemed to enjoy learning about me. Why? I have no idea. “I want to know everything about you,” he whispered as he ran his hand over the surface of the steering wheel in a slow, careful manner that made me wish I was the wheel. “What is your favorite flower?”

  “I’ve never thought about it,” I admitted, but then I considered the idea. “Yes, I do like a certain flower.” I smiled softly for a moment. “I love lavender. Is that even a flower?” I giggled at my ignorance. “It’s so beautiful.” I imagined a magnificent field of lavender and looked at him. “What about you? Do you have a favorite?”

  He laughed a hearty chuckle. “I’ve never admitted it to anyone, but I do have one particular sea flower that I adore.”

  My curiosity flared unexpectedly. “What is it?”

  “The white terrestrial is a transparent beauty that opens to many petals and sparkles at the touch.” It seemed like he was visualizing it. “The taste is pleasurable to the mer, lighting up the mind, but the delicate plant is deadly to humans.” He sighed at the thought. A slow smile came to his face.

  “I’m curious…” He ticked his head to the side to observe me which reminded me that he wasn’t entirely human. “What is your favorite food?”

  I shrugged as I watched his interested face. “When I was a kid, I liked pizza, of course, but now I like chocolate soufflé.” It had been some time since I had tasted the delicious desert and I craved it.

  His eyes widened suddenly, a glint of sunlight reflecting off the ocean surface. “Ah, French cuisine.” His voice was teasing though I got the feeling he was remembering something from his past.

  I had never considered the origin, but he was right; I did love French food, especially the deserts. But who doesn’t? “What is your favorite food?” My tone was light, but challenging.

  “You don’t want to know my favorites.” As if humoring himself, a hidden joke seemed to dance on his lips.

  “Of course I do,” I dared him.

  That beautif
ul crooked smile lifted on his gorgeous face. “No you don’t—really.” He weaved past a car and glanced at me. “You’ll see.” His lyrical way of speaking was almost mocking. He sort of blushed which gave me the impression he was embarrassed about his meal preferences.

  I restrained myself from pouting at not receiving the answers I desired. A million ideas rushed through my curious mind and I couldn’t help, but push further. “I meant besides human meat.” I tried to keep a nonchalant tone feigning that it didn’t matter much to me.

  A loud, unexpected “Ha!” released from his throat. “That goes without saying doesn’t it? But, aside from that taboo, there are other pleasures.” His laughter waned and then without any sort of transition, he changed the subject, continuing with his implorations. When I tried to ask him the same questions, he kept trying to put the focus back on me.

  But then as the car sped along, he turned to look at me. “You, Grace. If I could taste you, you would be my favorite food.”

  I gulped, trying to keep my expression calm.

  “Your scent is wondrous. You are different than other humans—the perfume of your skin, your strength. You are irresistible. It has taken me a lot of practice to fight my overwhelming desires for you…”

  “To eat me.” I shuddered.

  I sensed that he was ashamed. “The other humans are all powerless to our songs and hypnosis, but you are able to rise above. I saw that in English class more than once. You did not succumb to our powers. That was never heard of.”

  I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t understand it myself. “You are right. I am affected by you and your friends, even enraptured, but somehow I remain conscious.”

  “Forget about me and what I am craving right now and forever always—I want to know about you.” He had a way of shaking up my world with powerful statements that he conveyed nonchalantly.

  Now I sat there trying to process everything he said, but I didn’t have any time at all.

  With his next question, he knew just what to ask to get to the core of a person and rattle my reality further. “Danny said you want to go to Berkley.” Laurent lifted an eyebrow slyly.

  Oh, boy—here we go. “You asked Danny about me?” That surprised me because when I implored Danny about Laurent, he acted like I was just one in many girls who were interested in him.

  “Yeah, I asked him.” His tone was sarcastic like I should have known. “Why do you want to go there?” Now, he simply sounded curious.

  But I felt uneasy because as I thought about it, I didn’t know how to answer his question. Why do I want to go to Berkley? “I imagined it would be an adventure to live near San Francisco and Berkley is a well respected school,” I finally responded, sounding more like a college brochure than myself.

  His expression was unreadable as he watched the moving traffic ahead. “What do your parents want of you?”

  “They want me to go to Berkley. They say it’s an esteemed college.” His questions were simple enough, but they caused me to ponder my choices in ways that were foreign to me.

  “Why do they want you to go there specifically?” He looked at me directly now. I noticed his intensity caused a temporary crease in his forehead.

  I started to twist my hair with my finger as I thought about it. “They feel like they missed out on good educations and they believe that at a prestigious school, I could find a husband with a promising future.” I laughed uncomfortably for a second. When I said that, it sounded so absurd. I knew they wanted me to marry someone of high social status and position so that I wouldn’t have to struggle financially like they did.

  “Is that what you are hoping for?” He kind of laughed when he asked the question probably because I was here with him rather than at home studying for my SATs.

  “Until now,” I said sarcastically, “I thought I wanted to go to Berkley.” I shook my head. “I still do, but I hadn’t quite thought about why exactly I wanted to go there. It was always just something I planned since childhood. I think my mother put it in my mind.”

  We continued to talk about college aspirations and then he asked me more questions about other topics that got me thinking. Something about the way he encouraged me to delve into my past experiences, gave me more than one epiphany into my nature and present choices.

  The more I thought about it, the more I started to question if I really wanted to go to Berkley. As we talked, I began to wonder if Berkley was more of a status symbol than an actual desire. That possibility surprised me. At the base of it all, I started to wonder if I only wanted to please my parents by going to a prestigious school. But, no, it couldn’t be—Berkley was my dream. The new ideas agitated me.

  Nobody said anything for a long time. Instead of thinking about college, I watched the palm trees speed by as we zoomed along the freeway. Aside from the flashing neon lights over the gas stations, California was a beautiful place. I liked the desert contrasts of green and brown. Laurent put a bluesy CD in that soothed my senses. I felt relaxed and surprisingly comfortable now. Something about being with Laurent felt really good.

  “You’re a risk taker,” I murmured to him as I traced the line of his neck with my eyes.

  “And you’re not?” he bemused. “You’re here with a flesh eater.” He frowned. “I warned you to stay away from me, Grace.” His thoughts seemed in turmoil now. “I should have found a way to stop you, but everything within me drew me to you and I felt powerless.” He looked at me with sad eyes.

  “I’m where I want to be,” I whispered as butterflies fluttered in my stomach. The way he gazed into my eyes was otherworldly. I knew I was moving into unknown territory, but as crazy as it seemed, it felt right being with Laurent, more right than anything I had ever felt before.

  “That’s good that you are where you want to be,” He said with a sudden smirk. “Because we are nearly at our destination.” He turned the car off the freeway. The gravel beneath the tires was loud on the ears, mixing with the piano notes from the CD.

  We were in an almost desolate area by the ocean and near a military base of open flatland that seemed to stretch out forever. “Most of the land here is owned by the government, but there is a seaside hotel over there.” He pointed south through a forest of trees. “Are you afraid?” he asked. His tone was serious.

  “No. Why should I be?”

  He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes on the road. “You’re alone out in the middle of nowhere with a killer. Nobody knows where you are.”

  “I’m not scared of you.”

  He didn’t respond, but simply shook his head.

  Now that we were off the freeway, we rolled down our windows and let the sea breeze in. The air was a cool, fresh, and clean. I let my arm out the window to ride the wind.

  The temperature dropped as Laurent drove into the forest. Even though it was daytime, the light was dim in the dense woods giving a sort of twilight feel to the setting. He turned off the main road onto a long narrow dirt path in the direction of the ocean. The music was off now and I could hear the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore.

  Shortly thereafter, he turned out of the forest where I could see a tall log house set back just a bit from the ocean shore. “This doesn’t look like a hotel,” I mumbled as he parked the car.

  “It’s more of a bed and breakfast. The owners live here and they rent out a few rooms on the top floor. It’s the most secluded, safest place I know of.” He undid my seatbelt, but his nostrils flared at the close proximity. “I better go fishing tonight,” he whispered under his breath.

  “Have you been here before?”

  He moved away from me in his seat. “Josette heard about it and made the suggestion. I think she went here with her husband and daughter once. There are Jacuzzi bathtubs in the rooms—very important for mers. We all decided that if I had to take you into hiding, this would be the place to go where Sabine wouldn’t know to look. It’s not even listed in any directories, but just gets its business from word of mouth.”
r />   He walked around to my side of the car and opened the door for me, holding out his hand chivalrously. We headed around to the front, stepping up to the porch on creaking wooden stairs. He opened an old screen door that also creaked and then slammed shut behind us as we walked inside.

  The living room was dark and gloomy. My eyes hadn’t adjusted from the outside light yet, so I couldn’t see anything.

  “Hello, anybody home?” Laurent called out, but nobody answered.

  I bumped into something tall and fury and let out a blood curdling scream.

  “It’s okay,” Laurent said as he pulled me away. “It’s just a stuffed bear.”

  “What the hell?” I complained through rapid breaths.

  “They must be hunters. The room is filled with stuffed forest animals.”

  “It’s so dark in here. How can you see?”

  “The nature of a fish is to see in the dark.” He laughed. How else could we make our way around at the bottom of the ocean?”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. As my eyes were adjusting I started to make out the dark figures in the room. The bear I bumped into was standing up in fighter’s stance on its hind legs.

  Laurent tried the light switch, but it didn’t work. Then he walked over to a desk on the far side of the living room that had a candle set out on it. There was a match box beside it, so he lit it up. The dark room glowed now with yellow light.

  “Oh, my gosh. This house is creepy,” I exclaimed as I surveyed all the threatening looking creatures set throughout.

  He laughed. “Josette didn’t tell me about the dead animals.”

  I laughed too as I stared a mountain lion in the eyes. “How could anyone live like this?” I whispered just in case anyone was listening to us.

  “This family of deer is cute,” he smirked.

  I chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah, dead deer are just my thing.”

  Just then a loud whistle went off and I froze in terror.

  Take Me Away