by Sara Ella
Merrick laughed and a weight lifted. She was already her normal self. He needed to get back before Maya was sent home. He’d be there for that. Then together they’d work out a plan to find Mom and start over.
Dad not required.
“Where are you, anyway?” Maya asked, as she had each day since he left. He could hear the noise of some television show in the background.
She’d sense a lie in a second. He exhaled. “Remember that beach town Mom used to take us to as kids?”
“The one where Mom and Dad met?”
“That’s the one.”
“That’s like . . .” He could almost see her doing the math in her head. “Two hours south of here.”
“Do you think this is where she came? Harold said he followed her to a bus station.”
“Harold who?” Amaya asked. “Does he have a purple crayon?”
Her reference to the children’s book reminded Merrick how young she was.
“Funny, but no. He’s Dad’s new chauffeur. Drove me and Mom to the hospital the night—” He cut himself off. “Do you think Mom could have come here?”
“I don’t know.” Maya got quiet. The TV chatter ceased. “Maybe.”
“Don’t worry, Maya. We’ll figure this out. We’ll find Mom. I’m sure she would have taken us with her if Dad hadn’t threatened her.”
“You heard him threaten her?”
He toed the sand with his shoe. “Well, no, but c’mon. Mom wouldn’t leave. Dad probably blamed her for what happened to you.” Why did he feel he needed to defend himself to his little sister?
“Um, I have to go,” she said. “The nurse is here to check my vitals. Don’t be gone too long, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Pinky promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
She hung up first, then Merrick hit End. The conversation left him hollow. Amaya wasn’t defending their father. She knew what kind of man Hiroshi was. They both did.
Merrick took off his shoes and walked down the beach. Trees, a playground, and a few fallen logs cluttered the area. Driftwood used as makeshift benches added to the laid-back feel. The place was mostly abandoned this time of year. His favorite spot would be his for the taking.
It took him longer than it should have to find the old abandoned rowboat he used to play in as a boy. The sun was setting when Merrick climbed inside and sat, picturing the days he and his best friend, Nigel Grimsby, had played pirates. He and Grim hadn’t spoken or seen each other in years. Merrick hadn’t thought much about the guy until now. Did he and his family still spend summers here?
Their mothers had grown up together. Merrick used to call Grim’s mom “Aunt Ashley,” even though they weren’t related. There had also been a woman his mom worked for when she was younger, but Merrick had never met her. What was her name?
Man. The past was getting to him, as if it had been stored right here in this boat, waiting for him to peruse it like an old photo album.
Would Aunt Ashley be able to give him clues about his mom’s past? Or maybe that older woman still lived here. If he could track them down, he might be able to uncover some clues. His dad wasn’t giving anything away, and Merrick had already spent the previous day stalking his mom’s social media. She didn’t have any living relatives that he was aware of, and her city friends were more like convenient acquaintances. None of them knew the real Lyn. Not in the way Merrick did.
He pulled out his great-grandfather’s—Ojii-Chan’s—old harmonica as the sky turned a deep night blue. He messed around with a few chords until he got into his own rhythm. Merrick didn’t care much for jazz or the blues. He preferred to play his own songs, as his great-grandfather had taught him.
He sat that way for a while, playing the instrument Ojii-Chan once said was the most American thing he’d ever owned. An ache grew inside him. Merrick missed his great-grandparents. They were gone before he could learn all he’d wanted to from them. He was only ten the year they died, first Ojii-Chan, then Oba-Chan—his great-grandmother—shortly after. They had been married fifty-one years. They came to the States from Japan together, raising Hiroshi as their own after his mother was killed in a car crash. The man had never known his American father, who left before Hiroshi was born.
The harmonica turned cold between Merrick’s fingers. He paused, took a breath, then out of nowhere, fireworks blew up the sky above him. How could he forget? This place had fireworks for every holiday. He’d only ever seen the ones on Memorial Day and the Fourth of July, but these weren’t much different. New Year’s Eve was three nights ago. Had the festivities been delayed by the storm?
The ocean’s surface came alive. Merrick blinked. Two figures—a girl and a woman—stood waist deep in the water maybe fifteen feet out.
He stood, set one foot outside the beached boat. Where did they come from?
From the corner of his eye, he saw another figure. Merrick turned his head. A man. On the beach. Watching the young woman and the girl.
The girl stared toward Merrick.
The woman sank. Then floated to the surface. Facedown.
Merrick didn’t think, he moved. He got behind the beached boat and tried to push. It budged an inch. Two. This will never work. Of all the times not to know how to swim.
The man walked toward the water now. That look in his eyes . . . It rubbed Merrick the wrong way. Come on, stupid boat. Come on. He dug some sand out from around its sides, then tried again. Finally he gained some momentum and gravity did the rest. He didn’t know if it was the sudden adrenaline or the sand-digging or both. Whatever it was, Merrick found himself seabound with one paddle and no experience in an old boat that might sink.
What have I gotten myself into?
* * *
“Is that everything?” The officer’s hand flew across his notes.
Merrick nodded, then noticed the officer wasn’t looking at him. “Yes.”
He didn’t mention the part about beating that man off the girl when he’d grabbed her.
He also didn’t tell the officer how much her gaze still haunted him. It was clear the woman had been someone close to her. A mother? An aunt? A sister?
“I’ve gotten everything I need. We’ll still need you to fill out your own statement and sign it for our records. Then you can go. Do you have someone who can pick you up?”
Merrick was eighteen, but he lacked transportation and his shallow pockets proved he needed his father to bail him out. Not an option.
“Yeah, I can call someone.”
As he headed to the lobby to finish up his paperwork, Merrick pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He was taking a chance on the old number, but he hit Call anyway, his chest pounding.
After three rings, a voice he hadn’t heard since he was twelve sounded through his speaker. “Grimsby residence, how may we serve you?”
“Hey, Grim. It’s me.”
Merrick didn’t even have to tell his friend who “me” was before he heard a car engine roar to life in the background.
Thirteen
Coral
An eerie silence draped the palace like a funeral garment on a mourning widow. Which was appropriate, of course, as the crown princess’s farewell procession had taken place that very morning.
The guests had long since been ushered away. Now all that remained was family. The palace staff cleared the buffet table, and the musicians packed up to take their leave. It was all too . . . normal. Routine. And far too quiet. Where was the heart in any of it? Where was the soul?
Jordan floated beside Duke in the now-empty grand hall. The same hall that had been used for Coral’s celebration two days prior. Coral lingered at the center of it all. Staring.
How is this real? My oldest sister can’t be gone.
It was as if it had happened to someone else. As if Coral was removed from it all and simply watched these horrific events unfold within the timeline of another’s story. Except . . .
This happened to me. So why
can’t I feel anything?
Jordan hadn’t spoken a word to her since Red Tide came and left. Her last words echoed in Coral’s mind.
“You are nothing to me. Nothing.”
The king avoided her.
Coral was completely and utterly alone.
Still, she couldn’t let go of what she’d witnessed.
My sister had legs. She was mermaid. She was human.
How was it possible? Could the crown princess have found a way to possess a human soul?
“Mermaids do not have souls,” Jordan had said once. “We become as the foam of the sea when we die. And then we are no more.”
Did they really . . . stop existing? Coral couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the idea. If there was a before, a now, there must be an after.
Right?
The human boy. Where had he taken her sister? And why did no one speak of the matter?
“I’m ready to go.” Duke’s irritated tone drew Coral from her musings.
She peered through a slit between her lashes.
Arms crossed and face pinched, Duke resembled a sour-faced guppy more than a merman. “I’ve been here all day. Staying longer won’t make her less dead.”
Anger boiled. How dare he. How dare he. Coral opened her eyes fully and whipped her head left and right, hoping her father had heard the despicable comment. But . . .
Oh.
Right.
The king had been the last to arrive and the first to leave.
Duke opened his mouth to speak again but Jordan eyed him in warning. While the merman made Jordan out to be weak, terrified the cursed Disease would come for her, she showed herself to be quite the opposite.
Jordan approached Coral then. She lifted a hand toward Coral’s shoulder, then pulled back. “Duke will be staying in the palace for a while. Father needs all the support he can get. He hired Duke as second in command.”
Coral’s jaw dropped. Behind her sister, Duke caught her eye. The way he’d held on to her the other night—it wasn’t the end. If given the chance, Duke would take everything.
The thought invited the shadows. A shudder raised her scales. She hadn’t told anyone how Duke had grabbed her twice in one night. Nor had she said a word about the human scaring him off. Would anyone believe her if she did?
Jordan would marry Duke eventually. If Coral said something now, accused him of . . . What? Almost harming her? No. She couldn’t risk that he’d take it out on Jordan when they were alone.
“Now that I’m the oldest, the new crown princess,” Jordan continued, “whomever I marry will be next in line to the throne. Duke will need to begin training as Father’s heir.”
Coral had a wicked wish then. An evil, guilt-inducing wish she at once regretted and longed to be true.
I wish that human had ended Duke for good.
The human. Why couldn’t she get him out of her head?
Because, when all others ignored her, in the end, the human was the one to help, to hear her sister’s cry.
The same inky darkness of nothing that had threatened to take over at Duke’s touch encroached now. Colors blurred together until all became black. Their sounds faded. The music of her constant rainbow died. Not one hue could be distinguished from another.
Coral felt. Nothing.
I am. Nothing.
It was in these nothing moments she believed the Disease had taken over.
And there was nothing under the sea she could do to stop it.
She blinked and blinked and blinked again. Harder. Swifter. A tear never came. Had she imagined them before?
She glanced at Jordan, retreating quietly to Duke’s side.
“Jordan.” Coral swam after her sister and took her hand, ignoring Duke. “What about Red Tide?” The burning under her eyelids returned. She wanted to rub at them but pinned her arms at her sides instead. “Our sister knew it was coming. Almost as if it was her . . .” Coral swallowed. She’d sound crazy but she had to know. “Her choice. As if she invited it.”
A quiet gasp released from Jordan’s lips.
Duke’s upper lip curled.
“Coral . . .” Jordan sighed. “That is nonsense and extremely childish. Red Tide is a result of the Disease.”
“What if the Disease doesn’t have to end with Red Tide? What if there is a way to overcome it? What if—”
“Don’t be absurd,” Jordan said. “Red Tide wins. Every time.” Her glare said everything her words did not. Coral’s sister saw her as the little mermaid. It didn’t matter that she was sixteen now. Jordan wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Duke said, poking an invisible knife into Coral’s insecurities. “Do you need someone to tuck you in?”
“No. I do not.” Coral’s voice quavered. Her eyes stung. She couldn’t let them see her inner defeat.
She turned to address Jordan. “Shall we swim to our chambers together?” Coral eyed Duke. If he was staying, she would not make herself vulnerable.
Jordan shook her head. “Father has given me our sister’s private suite. I am the oldest unmarried daughter now, after all. The suite is in a completely separate wing. It wouldn’t make sense for us to swim together.”
Her sister had no idea how much this newfound information sank Coral’s heart. Not only with the sense of abandonment, but part of Coral also wished to have the private suite herself. She and her oldest sister had been close. She didn’t want Jordan messing with her things before Coral had a chance to go through them.
“I have inherited her belongings as well,” Jordan added. “I will, however, be so gracious as to allow you to keep her pearls in your possession.” She eyed Coral’s wrist.
“Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty.”
If Jordan detected the sarcasm in her sister’s tone, she didn’t show it. “Think nothing of it. Good night.”
Coral hesitated, but she would not beg for an escort. Not in front of Duke. Her fear would only encourage him. “Good night.”
Duke was nothing more than a sardine in merman’s clothing. A coward. And he would not make her afraid in her own home.
Coral’s lashes descended to her cheeks. She bowed her head and exited the hall. When she was out of sight, she swam as fast as she could to her now-private bedchamber. Maybe she could ask for a personal guard at her door. That wasn’t too grand a request, was it?
Down the long corridors she swam. Through the many arches and around the bends of halls. The eyes of her ancestors followed her, watching from their painted portraits. Some were old, with dull eyes void of life. Others were depicted in their youth, captured in candid action. Twirling at a ball. Rising to the surface.
Most portrayed mermen or maids she’d never met in her lifetime. The awareness was a fin slap to her face.
Few renderings existed of their family all together. Hardly any at all.
No portrait of her parents on their wedding day. There was a single painting of the king, of course, all majestic on his throne.
Then there was one of the crown princess, Jordan, and Coral. She was a baby in this one. The oldest held Coral in her arms while Jordan sat poised and separate, inches away from them as if she were sitting for an individual portrait. Even then, Coral’s sunny strands looked out of place next to Jordan’s silver hair and their oldest sister’s night-sky locks.
When she reached her chambers, muffled voices floated from inside. Coral floated closer to the ajar door and pressed her back against the wall.
“She can stay with me,” her grandmother said.
“I don’t care where she goes,” the king snapped. “She defied me. Shamed me in front of my own people. She has betrayed her family. She has betrayed us all.”
Coral covered her heart with one hand. The unexpected pain that rose at her father’s harsh words cut deeply. Though they were not close, and never had been, this final rejection crushed her. Would he have no compassion in the wake of his oldest daughter’s death?
T
he argument ceased and Coral retreated into the shadows, keeping as close to the wall as possible so the king wouldn’t see her when he passed. She watched him go and said a silent good-bye to the merman who didn’t want her.
She was . . . alone.
When she was certain he would not return, Coral took a breath and entered her chamber. Her grandmother floated here and there, gathering Coral’s things. The old merwoman did not look up when Coral entered. “It’s better this way,” she said, as if she knew her granddaughter had heard the previous exchange.
Relief and longing filled her heart at once. Coral loved her grandmother. The merwoman understood her more than anyone. But to leave this way? Rejected, unwanted, and full of unanswered questions? It didn’t seem right.
She wanted an explanation. Why had Red Tide turned her sister human? What about becoming as the foam of the sea? Coral could still feel the crimson water surrounding her. Thick like blood and smelling of something acrid. There had been no foam. Only death and the vision of her sister drifting away.
“Now then,” her grandmother said, snapping Coral’s trunk closed and tugging it behind her. “We’d best be on our way, dear. It will be dark soon.”
Without another word, her grandmother exited the empty bedchamber.
Coral examined the space, allowing it to sink in that she might never see the place again. She focused on Jordan’s pallet, then looked toward the sand-length mirror they had shared. Coral glanced at her own pallet then. The shawl she had worn the night with the crown princess at the surface rested across her pillow. She retrieved it, then swam through the arched doorframe.
Resolve hardened with each stroke of her tail.
She wouldn’t look back.
Her family had failed her. Only her grandmother and the human had bothered to care. Once they were safely out of earshot of the palace, hopefully her grandmother would have the answers Coral sought.
And if not?
Then I’ll have to find that human again.
Fourteen
Brooke
After
Thunder booms and lightning flashes, as if snapping a photo of the grave end scene. I sit on the shore with my back to a fallen log, hugging my knees to my chest, allowing myself the time I need to say good-bye.
