Kingdom of Salt and Sirens

by J. A. Armitage

  “Well, unless you have other plans, you are welcome to stay with me and Dad as long as you like.”

  “Thank you. I’d love that.”

  “What about Seth? Do you think he’ll come back for you?”

  “I don’t know. But I doubt it. If I’m not an angel, I’m not worth much to him anymore.”

  “His loss. I kind of think you’re worth more as a human than an angel anyway.”

  “Maybe. And I’m sorry but I’ll never be able to give that message to your mom. I asked Raguel to try, but I don’t know if he’ll do it.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe she’s watching over me up there. Maybe she already knows.”

  The sun streamed brighter through the window, illuminating the dark corners of the room with the glittery sparkle of hope. Stephen snorted and jostled in his chair until his head fell forward again and back to sleep. Chloe chuckled and I rested my head back on my pillow, watching the rays paint pictures on the ceiling. The tips of my fingers grazed something smooth and soft. I gripped tighter and pulled a perfect white feather out of the mass of hospital blankets. My body relaxed as I brushed my finger along the edges.

  “Maybe. But I think she’ll get the message.”

  Waiting in the Water by Anne Stryker

  Copyright ©️ 2018 Anne Stryker

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  All Rights Reserved. This book is a work of fiction. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the proper written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at annestrykerauthor@gmail.com

  * * *

  Edited by Boriana Spassov

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Drifting

  Asaria shouldn’t have been there. At least not alone. But sometimes she had to break the rules, live on the edge, be the person no one wanted—or believed—she could be. With privacy and her own company, she was special.

  Floating in the Atlantic off the coast of Georgia, far enough out that the waves were mere quiet ripples, she was someone.

  She didn’t know who, and with the sun beating against her tan skin, she didn’t need to know. She could disappear right into that light, become part of it, and drift.

  Soft breaths eased in and out of her lungs while the ebbing tide tugged on her surfboard. It bobbed some six feet away at the end of the leash strapped to her ankle, almost asking her to return home with it. A quick glance toward the shore reminded her just how far she’d drifted and just how dangerous it was to lose sight of that thin strip of cream sand.

  Still, Asaria made no effort to return. Not yet, anyway.

  Maybe she’d never return. Maybe she’d live in the ocean until she grew a tail.

  At the thought, a smile curved her thin lips, and she leaned forward, pulling her surfboard toward her as her feet sank into the clear blue depths. The tepid water wrapped her in its embrace when she leaned against the board deck and settled her chin in the crook of her folded arms.

  Not a soul was in sight. Not in the water or on the private beach. And something about it calmed her to an extent she didn’t want to admit. When had the possibility of human interaction become such a draining idea?

  A stray piece of seaweed brushed her ankle while she stared toward land and debated whether she was hungry enough to return now or not. The slimy plant ran over her toes, so she curled them and kicked to free the persisting strand. Pizza was definitely an effective lure if she ever knew one, but was she ready to give up her calm here?

  Back home every phone notification made her heart jump. It didn’t matter that it was summer and she was a high school receptionist—her mind followed any horrible “what-ifs” it could find, spanning from work to family to friends. Somehow she hadn’t done her job. Somehow she was a disappointment. Somehow she was the butt of another joke—again.

  Asaria hated the sick feeling she got when she left the water. Worse yet, she hated herself for not being strong enough to pull out of it.

  Her first world problems didn’t matter. She had so much when compared to so many others, yet she still fell into the holes she dug for herself.

  She clenched her fist, wry humor twisting her expression. There she went again. Drifting into make-believe issues. It was practically a skill how well she managed to drift both on and off the waves.

  Positive thinking. Pizza.

  With a happy sigh, she unfolded her arms and prepared to mount her board, but she only made it halfway. Something slithered by her leg.

  The sensation shot a chill through her, and her arms locked. What felt like a tentacle grabbed her ankle. It yanked her down. No time to scream, she gulped air before her chin hit the board on her way beneath the water.

  Pain stabbed her skull as she clamped her hands against her chin and peered frantically through her darkening surroundings, eyes quickly adjusting to the saline. Pressure built, and she knew what held her foot continued to drag her deeper, but she couldn’t catch a glimpse.

  Squid? Octopus?

  Her heart slammed against her constricting lungs. She kicked, but the action did nothing. Heat throbbed in her skull, and the lack of air made her body steadily weaken. Panic overcame any rational thoughts—if the situation could be rationalized. Her mind cried for help, but she’d seen herself that no one was near.

  Sand pressed against her back, the dim light of the ocean floor not offering much clarity as she squinted up. The squid hovered above her, a dark shadow against the white surface the sun gleamed through.

  From the cephalopod, a hand reached.

  Then a pale streak crashed into its side. The tentacles trapping her released, and she didn’t have time to ask questions. She kicked for the sky, air. Something held her ankle, so she turned, chest burning, to find her surfboard caught between rock and coral and her leg still chained to it.

  Pain tightened every bit of her body, her air having run out. The world blurred, dizziness climbing. No energy to free the board or her ankle and make it to the surface, then to the shore, she closed her eyes and choked.

  . . .

  Lips. Gentle lips caressed hers beneath the waves, filling her with air and somehow pulling any water that had entered her mouth out. Her eyes snapped open to a blurry underwater world, and she jolted back, but firm arms held her body in place against a man’s chest, keeping the airflow present.

  Had she managed to miss a squid-battling warrior nearby when she’d scanned her surroundings?

  Somehow the man slipped her ankle free of the leash without separating his mouth from hers, then he propelled them both toward the surface.

  Darting, her eyes caught the barest glimpse of the squid’s retreat, only she swore she saw the torso of a man before a black cloud obscured her vision anew.

  2

  Dream

  Heat coated Asaria’s cheeks—and, in fact, her whole head—as her and her rescuer broke through the surface of the water. She shoved his chest as soon as coolness ran over her face, and he pulled back to let her gulp air on her own. Coughing, her mind a whirl, she tried to thank him, but everything hurt, and her eyes had yet to readjust. Everything appeared bubbled through her squinted vision.

  “Easy,” the man murmured, his soft word heavily-accented and definitely not by a southern twang. In fact, she’d never heard such an accent before.

  At last managing to clear her eyes, she looked at her savior, then went still.

  Bone-white skin covered his bare chest, scales running over his face and shining in the sun. Dark blue hair fell just below where ears should have been, too unnatural a color for a human if the scales on his cheeks hadn’t already tipped her off.

  Shock overtook her, and she shoved away, still coughing.

  He let her slip from his arms.

 
“What are you?” she asked, eyes widening when he held his hands before his chest where she could see them. His splayed fingers revealed webs, and she couldn’t pull her gaze away from the thin membrane.

  He glanced at his own webbed hands and pursed his lips. The skin folded, separating his fingers like a human’s, before he motioned and pointed down. “I’m . . . uh . . . I’m going to get your buoy. One moment.”

  The creature disappeared, rising again moments later with her board. His pale blue eyes considered her from beneath white lashes, and a tremble ran over her skin.

  “What are you?” she asked again, attempting to keep her wobbling voice strong. “What was that other creature?” She blinked, and the silhouette of a human torso connected to a squid’s body played behind her eyelids.

  Clinging to her surfboard, she watched her savior and tried not to pull away. Whatever he was, he had saved her life. But now he seemed unfocused, staring at her, and though she tried to remain calm, her breaths steadily grew short. What was going on? Was she going insane?

  He blinked once, then replied, “Yuval.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Yuval.” He wet his lips, though she couldn’t begin to understand why he’d need to with the ocean around them. Turning, he glanced at the empty beach. “If you get on your buoy, I’ll take you to shore. It would be safer to talk there.”

  Swallowing, she stared at the fish man and forced a deep breath. She couldn’t argue; it felt like her head was swimming, so maybe dry land would help her process. Yuval steadied her board, a white hand brushing her waist to help her on, then pulling away, as though he thought better of it. She settled herself atop the board, gripping the edges till her knuckles went white.

  His eyes searched her face a long moment before he snatched the leash. “Hold tight.”

  She was.

  After he dove, she drew her legs out of the water and knelt on the board. Her heart thundered as they picked up speed. Wind whipped through her short, pink hair, and she chewed her lip. Daring to straighten on her knees, she balanced with her arms at her sides, so the air could wash over her and provide a moment of clarity, like when she surfed. That’s when all her problems fell away. On the water. In the breeze.

  All too soon, she slowed, and the familiar feeling of her board’s fins touching sand brought her to a stop. She opened her eyes, lowered her arms, and looked up at Yuval.

  He was staring at her again. Maybe he’d never seen a human before?

  She definitely hadn’t seen a . . . him . . . before. Now that he was out of the water, and she could see clearly, he truly wasn’t human, though his stature remained similar. Toned white flesh covered his bare chest and arms, too pale for anyone except maybe an albino to come close to. Dark, skin-tight shorts provided him modesty, but the shade of his legs rivaled the deep blue of his hair. Was he two-toned?

  She stared, panic rising and lowering like a tide with each inhale and exhale. She had almost died. This creature had saved her. Was it rude to consider him a creature? Was he a real merman? Her eyes ran over his legs—not tail. A mer-something?

  Yuval extended a hand, the webs between his fingers collapsing to allow them to separate.

  Asaria looked at it, took in a shaking breath, then slipped her fingers against his cool skin. He pulled her up off her board and on to the sand. His touch lingered, so she pulled away first and clutched her hand against her chest. She looked at the ocean, felt the water wrap around her, choke her, and gripped her hand tighter.

  “It’s quiet,” he said. “The beach. I thought there would be more people.”

  Asaria pulled her attention from her thoughts—likely for the best—and glanced at the vacant shore, letting her gaze travel up the rocky incline that led to her family’s beach house. “It’s private property.” With those words, her gaze dropped. “What just happened?”

  “I kissed you.”

  Asaria’s face flushed, and her shoulders jolted back as she met the man’s gaze. His lips parted, revealing sharp teeth, and she faltered back a step. His eyes went as wide as hers, but no color graced his scaled cheeks. Could it? Was his blood red like a human’s? His skin was so porcelain, yet neither red nor blue veins were apparent.

  “I didn’t mean to say that aloud.” His words fell from his lips, so rushed she almost didn’t understand them beneath his accent. Flustered, he shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “I . . .”

  Seconds passed without more, so she gripped her arm and glanced at the water again. The squid who had nearly killed her flashed through her mind, so she blew out a long breath and stuttered, “W-will you be all right out of the ocean?”

  His attention shot to her. “Uh . . . yeah.” He lifted his head to display thin cuts on his neck—gills? “These close in air, then I breathe through my nose.”

  A few more seconds passed, his gaze trailing her face, her lips, her hair. His brows bent, then he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been so close to a human before. Are you okay?”

  She took a deep breath and peered out at the sun-streaked waves. A light breeze brushed her damp skin as she combed her fingers back through her hair. “I think . . . I’m okay.” And she was, wasn’t she? All things considered. She’d known the ocean was vast, and she had believed so much more hid in it, but actually seeing it up close . . .

  “I’m sorry I didn’t reach him before he got to you.” Yuval’s light eyes and awe-filled gaze stiffened as he turned to face the ocean. “He’s an escaped prisoner named Wyre, and he was sentenced to death this evening, but he fled before the execution. I believe he knew I had gotten close, so he used whatever he could as a distraction.” Yuval folded his arms, tapping a finger against his bicep. “Effectively.”

  Asaria paled and took another deep breath, holding it before letting it out slowly. “You mean a convict on death row nearly drowned me?” And it was her fault he got away? The thought digested bitterly, and she tensed, waiting for condemnation. It didn’t come.

  “I promise it doesn’t happen often.” Yuval’s eyes found her again, and she stared into them; the soft blue seemed to go deeper than it let on, like an ocean lived in his gaze, and for some reason, the tension in her body eased.

  “You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  She had so many questions. Was he a merman? Were there mermaids? Where was he from? For humans not to have found his people, they had to live deep down on the ocean floor. What did they use for light? How did they survive the pressure? But all she could manage was, “Better than I think I should be.”

  Concern rippled through his gaze as his lips pursed. “Does the world feel a little hazy, almost like it’s not really there or this is a dream?”

  Her head bobbed. And she hadn’t completely eliminated the idea that this could be a dream. Or a nightmare. Everything still swam. Maybe she had a concussion from hitting her surfboard when Wyre dragged her under?

  Was it possible to be too tired for a panic attack?

  “You’re in a bit of shock.” The tiniest smile pulled on one corner of his lips.

  She countered, “You seem to have just come out of shock.”

  “Oh, I did.” He scanned the sand and crouched at the edge of the waves to pick up a shell. “It’s not every day I meet a human with pink hair, or any human for that matter.”

  “Where are you from?” The question spilled from her lips before she could think it through. If his kind had a habit of telling humans they just met where they were from, she would know about people like him by now. Everyone would.

  “Ocea.”

  The word meant nothing to her, so perhaps that’s why he was so quick to respond. She restrained herself from asking where “Ocea” was as she watched him turn the shell over in the water, washing it clean. “What are you doing?” She rubbed her fingers, the repetitive action helping her stay grounded.

  “Until I have the situation back under control, it’s best you stay out of the water; however . . .” The shell
in his palm floated, ribbons of liquid dancing around it, electric blue, and she froze, fixated. When everything settled, a necklace lay across his palm, the shell a vibrant pink in the center of his hand. He stood suddenly, and she stepped back. “May I?” he asked.

  Her eyes flicked between the necklace and his face twice before she managed something like a stilted nod. Her heart thundered. Merfolk, squid prisoners, glowing water. If this wasn’t a dream and she wasn’t insane, this was happening. Really happening. And she wanted to know everything.

  He closed in, raising his arms to link the clasp around her neck. “Until things are under control, you can call me using this. Tap twice, then say my name. If you see anything strange, let me know, and I’ll come right away to take care of it.”

  “How did you do that?” Eyes trapped on his, darting between both, her fingers traced the ridges of the scallop shell above her one piece bathing suit.

  His expression gentled. “A little magic.”

  Her heart thumped, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of how close he was or magic or the thought of an entire ocean world yet to be discovered. “That’s incredible,” she breathed.

  He smiled, and his eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “Maybe I’ll show you Ocea someday, Asaria.”

  Her eyes widened, the spell broken, and she stepped back, gripping the necklace. “I never told you my name.”

  He nodded at her board in the sand. “Just a guess. I have to get back now in case Wyre returned in my absence, but I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

  She watched him walk back into the waves and disappear beneath a crash before the breath she held left her lungs. Glancing at her board, she let her hand drop from the necklace, then she crouched to pick the “buoy” up. Her name stretched across the underbelly in sprawling font, and she blinked at the letters, the memory of her name in Yuval’s accent repeating in her mind.