by Sam Short
Her vision as perfect underwater as it had been on land, Millie studied her surroundings. Moonlight still penetrated to the depth she was at, but the gloom below her had begun to dominate. She remembered what Reuben had said — the oysters she was looking for lived in deep water. Bending almost double, her fin grazing her chest, she performed a graceful tumble-toss, and with a few powerful flicks of her fin, slid from the silvery moonlit water she'd been floating in, and deep down into the inky blues in which even her newly adapted vision struggled to perform properly.
Slicing effortlessly through the water, Millie headed deeper, veering left as a large eye loomed from the shadows, its pupil reflecting the last slivers of moonlight. Surprisingly unnerved by the sudden appearance of the creature, she placed a hand on the animal’s large flank, the basking shark’s skin rough against her fingers as it glided peacefully past her, and was swallowed by shadows.
Her eyes adjusting to the gloom, Millie studied the seabed below her. Not under enough water to blot out sunlight entirely, the sand was home to large beds of kelp, whose tendrils danced in the currents, reaching high above their anchor points among rocks and seashell littered sand.
Swimming through the nearest bed of kelp, the rubbery fronds tickling her fin as she navigated the underwater forest, she found what she’d been searching for. Packed tight together, seemingly growing atop one another, with seaweed covered tips of rocks visible where the shells were less abundant, the oyster bed spread out before her, the oval shells a mix of porcelain white which glowed softly under the dim light, and dark blacks which blended with the shadows.
Her fin grazing the rough surfaces of oyster shells, Millie meandered through the kelp forest, searching for the blue glow which would indicate the presence of the magical pearls she was searching for.
The oyster bed spread for as far as she could see in all directions, and a startled crab reared up and threatened her with large pincers as Millie pushed into a thicker growth of kelp, the thick fronds creating a cold rubbery curtain. As she pushed the seaweed aside, and gave a flick of her fin, a faint blue glow in the distance stood out like a single lit window in a city shrouded in darkness.
Her fin slicing easily through the water, Millie covered the distance quickly, and gazed down at the source of the neon blue glow. Unlike the other oysters, whose shells were clamped tightly shut, the dinner plate sized oyster below her had opened wide, its magical prize proudly displayed, as if on offer to the first person who found it.
Millie swam closer, the blue glow of the pearl so bright it formed a circle of light two metres wide around its oyster. Her fin making gentle movements which held her steady in the tide, Millie reached for the pearl, and plucked it from its bed of vivid white flesh, holding it between a finger and thumb.
As its prize was removed, the oyster slowly closed, becoming just another of the countless shells which covered the seabed.
With the pearl making her finger and thumb tingle with magical energy, Millie gazed at it in wonder. The bright blues shifting and shimmering, the marble-sized pearl reminded her of the crystal balls portrayed in the books of fairy tales she’d loved to read as a child.
Tightening her hand around the jewel of the sea, Millie turned in the water and prepared for the peaceful swim back to shore. No sooner had her hand formed a fist — she knew something was wrong. Very wrong. There was too much magic.
She didn’t know how she knew, but even as cold water flooded her throat, and her fin transformed into kicking legs, she knew that between her own magical powers, the magic contained in the dress, and the paranormal properties of the pearl — there was too much variance in the magic which coursed through, and over, her body.
The weakest of the three magical elements, Lillieth’s dress, had been overcome by more powerful magic, and the spell interwoven with the silk had temporarily collapsed.
Realising that this time there would be no reprieve, Millie closed her eyes as a fresh surge of salt water forced its way into her lungs. She stopped kicking her legs, pictured her mother’s face, and prepared to be taken by the sea.
Chapter 17
Wondering if the clamping fingers which gripped her wrist belonged to the hand of death himself, and whether the sensation of being dragged upwards was her soul leaving her body, Millie kept her eyes closed, her lungs burning as she travelled at speed to whatever afterlife was waiting for her.
The fact that she was travelling upwards gave her some hope that she’d lived her life relatively sin free. The pressure of the water around her becoming weaker, and a gust of cold wind on her face, Millie spluttered as a voice shouted in her ear.
“Breathe, Millie! Breathe!”
Gasping for breath, and with her legs kicking aimlessly below the surface, Millie clung tightly to the source of the voice, opening her eyes as her body expelled a torrent of seawater in a coughing fountain. “Lillieth?” she managed. “It’s you.”
“Yes,” said Lillieth, her face moving closer to Millie’s, her golden hair glimmering in the moonlight. “Don’t speak. I will make you better.”
Lillieth’s soft lips closed over Millie’s mouth, and a warming glow spread throughout her body as Lillieth blew a gentle breath between her lips. The pain leaving her lungs, and the cold water no longer affecting her, Millie smiled at the mermaid. “What was that?” she said. “Was it magic?”
Lillieth nodded, her face etched with concern. “Yes,” she said, her accent a soft mix of different dialects. “It is mermaid magic. It is the magic which has saved many human sailors over the centuries.” She gazed into Millie’s eyes. “You are lucky. I heard you struggling for air. We mer-people can hear somebody in distress from a long way away. You took a risk, putting on my dress.”
Kicking her legs, Millie clung to Lillieth’s arm, both of them bobbing up and down in the rolling sea. “I know,” said Millie. “I thought I had it all under control. Until I picked that pearl from the shell.” Aware the pearl was in neither of her hands, she gave a sigh. “Which I’ve lost.”
Lillieth smiled, and opened her hand, the small round orb glowing in her palm. “I have your magical pearl,” she said. “I caught it as you dropped it.”
Millie took the pearl from Lillieth, and clenched it tightly in her fist. “Thank you,” she said. “And I’m sorry for using your dress. It was important that I got this pearl, and there was no other way to get it.”
“You could have asked me,” said Lillieth. “I would have brought your pearl to you.”
Millie turned her body so she was facing the shore. “I didn’t know you were back in Spellbinder Bay, Lillieth,” she said, wondering what the two lights in the sand dunes were.
“I have been back for one moon and one sun,” said Lillieth. “My travels across the oceans took me to the same woman who made that very dress you are wearing. I told her of the damage that had been done to it, and she was of great help.”
Lillieth lifted her hand, the large green ring on her index finger reflecting the moonlight. “She made me this ring. It has the same powers as the dress, but as well as giving me legs, it also clothes me as a land person when I wish to come ashore. All I need to do is kiss the ring, and I may leave the sea.” She smiled at Millie. “You have fixed my dress, as you promised. I no longer need it. You may keep it. It is a gift from me to you. You must promise to never wear it if you are planning to harvest magical pearls. That is the only condition.”
Millie clenched her fist tighter around the pearl, the small ball warming her palm. “Thank you, Lillieth,” she said. “I’ll treasure it.”
Dragging Millie alongside her, Lillieth propelled them both towards the shore, water blurring Millie’s vision. “You land people. You have a lot of arguments, don’t you?”
“Pardon?” said Millie, spitting water from her mouth and wondering if the two powerful beams of light illuminating a portion of the sand dunes were being created by torches. “Why do you say that?”
“Before I heard you struggling,” sa
id Lillieth, holding Millie close to her side. “I was listening to the land people fighting in the hills of sand. They are so angry.”
“In the sand dunes?” said Millie, kicking her legs behind her. “What’s happening in the dunes, Lillieth?”
“I do not know,” said Lillieth. “I watched as one of the land people’s metal chariots sped towards the hills of sand — into which it crashed. Then I watched as two men emerged from the chariot, both of them shouting. Then the kind policeman and his daughter emerged from the home in which you dwell, Millie. There was a bright flash of light in the hills of sand, and then more shouting.”
Millie kicked harder, her legs still weak after her ordeal. “Did you hear what was being said?” asked Millie, pleased to feel sand brushing her toes as they neared the beach.
“No,” said Lillieth. “They are too far away. And I do not like anger. We people of the sea try to keep our emotions under control. I did not try to listen to them. It made me sad.”
The water now shallow enough, Millie clambered to her feet, her wet hair stuck to her face and the dress cold on her skin. “Thank you, Lillieth,” she said, stepping from the sea as the mermaid watched her from the surf. “You saved my life. I won’t forget that. Will you come ashore with me?”
Lillieth shook her head, her wet golden hair framing the gentle features of her face. “No. Being ashore still makes me nervous. I will gain courage and join you on shore in the future.”
Millie span to face the sand dunes as a shout carried on the wind. Lillieth was right. The voice sounded angry. “I have to go!” she said, scanning the beach for the pile of clothes she’d left behind.
“Farewell, Millie,” came the soft reply.
Hearing the powerful slap of a fin in the surf behind her, Millie knew the mermaid was gone. Spotting her clothes fifty metres to her left, she ran as quickly as her sore legs would allow, stripping the wet dress from her body and slipping the pearl of wisdom into the pocket of her shorts as she hurriedly got dressed.
Another shout carrying towards her from the dunes, Millie hurried towards her cottage, realising that the beams of light in the dunes were the headlights of a vehicle. The metal chariot which Lillieth had said she’d seen.
The box shape of the vehicle breaking the skyline, she recognised it as the campervan which she’d witnessed the alien hunters leave in. They must have come back, and judging by another angry yell which reached her on the breeze, Millie surmised they weren’t happy.
Moving with as much speed as her legs would allow, Millie struggled through the soft sand at the top of the beach as she neared the edge of the dunes, slowing her approach as yet more voices penetrated the night.
Two voices — or was it three, carried on the wind, and the twin beams of light emitted by the campervan’s headlights flickered briefly as people moved across their path. Millie stood still as she heard another shout. A female voice, and it sounded panicked. Judith.
Peering into the shadows, Millie gave a shout. “What’s happening?” she yelled.
Her answer came in the form of a man’s shout. No. Not a shout. A scream. A scream which sent icy chills along her spine.
Then a familiar voice, urgent. “He’s heading in your direction, Millie!” shouted Sergeant Spencer. “Run, Millie! He’s dangerous!”
Who was coming? Who was dangerous? Millie gazed into the long shadows created by the sand dunes, certain she had seen movement. Quick movement. Movement which suggested that somebody was coming toward her with speed.
She took a step backwards, her legs still unsteady beneath her, and let out a short scream of shock as the shadows appeared to part like curtains, and a man lunged at her from the darkness, a gurgling shout beginning to form on his snarling lips as he sped at Millie.
“Watch out, Millie!” came Sergeant Spencer’s voice from the darkness. “He’s possessed by a demon! He’s strong!”
Millie recognised the lumbering man as Peter Simmons — or Mister Incognito, as she’d become accustomed to referring to him as. His face a mask of anger — made more hideous by the moonlight which glinted in his eyes, the wild man emitted a blood-curdling scream, his appearance a world away from the gentle demeanour he’d displayed over the last few days.
Attempting to step out of his way, her legs stiff, Millie faltered, stumbling as Peter Simmons threw himself at her, his eyes wide and his teeth bared. Putting a hand out to cushion her fall, Millie rolled to the side, a second too late to avoid the bone-crunching collision of the possessed man’s attack.
Winded, and with Peter’s hands clawing at her face and neck, Millie could do little to help herself as she gasped for breath, aware of a shouting voice carrying on the wind. “Millie!” yelled Sergeant Spencer. “Are you okay? I’m coming!”
Scrambling in the sand, her legs kicking at empty air, Millie put a hand on Peter’s face as he straddled her midriff and found her neck with both of his hands, tightening his grip as Millie searched for his eyes with her fingers, struggling to breathe as Peter strangled her.
Her panic rising, Millie moved her attack from Peter’s face, to his hands, digging her nails deep into his flesh, her attempts to inflict pain having no effect on her deranged attacker. She concentrated on the space behind her breastbone, searching within herself for her magic, knowing she needed to be calmer if she was to access it, but acutely aware that she could barely breathe.
Pain searing through her throat, and Peter’s weight crushing her chest, Millie wondered for the third time that night if she was about to die. Her heartbeat thudding in her ears, and Peter’s enraged scream adding to her fear, she dug her nails deeper into the backs of his hands, silently urging Sergeant Spencer to hurry, aware that time was passing more slowly than it seemed to be, and knowing that she couldn’t rely on help reaching her before she lost consciousness.
Her neck muscles straining, Millie closed her eyes, ignoring the pain and the rabid scream of the man who was attempting to kill her. Hearing those words in her mind, Millie’s rage rose. Nobody was going to kill her. Not like this. She would not die in the sand — with the ingredient she needed to cast the spell which might enable her to speak to her mother in her pocket. Not today. Not on any day.
“I’m coming!” yelled Sergeant Spencer, his voice closer, but not near enough.
Her throat burning, Millie searched for the ball of magic within her, willing it to appear. Forcing it to blossom. Dragging it forcefully into her chest, where it simmered, gaining strength as she concentrated on being calm.
She opened her eyes, anger boiling in her veins, the burning ball behind her ribs urging her to release it, like an attack dog straining at a leash. As her vision blurred, and dizziness threatened to render her helpless, Millie released her magic, not knowing what form it would take, but aware that the spell she’d cast would be vengeful.
The beach vibrated beneath Millie’s back, as if an earthquake was in progress, and she released her grip on Peter’s hands as sand erupted around her in a violent explosion which rattled through her body. Peter’s hands relaxed on her throat, and his scream ended abruptly as a thick tentacle, formed from sand, snaked across his body and wrapped itself around his throat.
No longer concerned with strangling Millie, Peter clawed at the tentacle, his eyes bulging and his breathing ragged. His body tensed, and he wriggled from side to side as another tentacle joined the first, wrapping Peter in strong loops of sand which dragged him from on top of Millie and pinned him to the beach. Staring at the night sky, Peter kicked at more tendrils which grew from the sand, forming writhing coils which slid over the man’s body and held him still.
Millie got to her feet, her hands on her throat as she gasped for air, spitting sand from her mouth. Her legs trembling, she concentrated on the spell she’d cast, willing whatever monster she’d created to spare Peter’s life. The tentacles of sand responded quickly to her commands, loosening their grasp on Peter, allowing him to breathe, but holding him captive. Millie gazed down at the man, h
er throat sore as she spoke. “Don’t worry, Peter,” she said. “I know you didn’t do this to me. I’ll get the demon out of you, I promise.”
Millie looked up as Sergeant Spencer approached, limping as he hurried towards her. “Are you alright?” he said, ignoring the monster Millie’s magic had created, and placing a hand on each of her shoulders, staring at her with concern. “What did he do to you?”
“I’ll be okay,” said Millie. “I’m just a little bruised. It’s nothing that a magic potion won’t be able to help.”
Sergeant Spencer nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here quicker. The demon — Peter, I mean, took us by surprise. Judith’s hurt and —”
“Judith?” said Millie. “What did he do to her? Is she okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” said Sergeant Spencer. “She’s had the wind knocked out of her. She didn’t have time to use magic. It all happened so fast.” He glanced at the struggling man, imprisoned by sand. “It seems you managed to use your magic.”
With little time to spare. “Yes,” said Millie. “I’m not sure how long the spell will hold, though.”
Sergeant Spencer slipped his handcuffs from his belt. “These will hold him. He doesn’t have superhuman strength, he’s just very, very angry. I’ll get him cuffed, and we’ll lock him in the cottage. I’ll get in touch with Henry. He’ll know what to do with him.”
Millie nodded, her throat aching. “What happened?” she said. “Why does Mister Incognito have a demon inside him?”
Sergeant Spencer crouched beside Peter. “Let’s get him safely locked away in your cottage, and then we’ll discuss what happened.”
