by Amy Bearce
She nodded. “Thank you.”
With worry shadowing their faces, the two merfolk pulled the skeletal remains along with them as they swam away. The rock pool was empty now, but Phoebe was sure she’d never forget the whiteness of bone among the seaweed, like unexpectedly jagged, sharp teeth in the mouth of an animal believed to be docile. The ocean was dangerous, she understood that. But today, she began to realize just how little she knew about those dangers.
hoebe was sure slumber would elude her, but stress forced her to sleep deeper than she had in a long time. Usually, jumbled nightmares plagued her. Tonight, though, dreams dragged Phoebe back in time to the event she couldn’t quite seem to escape, repeating it just as she had lived it then.
She was ten years old.
Huddled in the far corner of Elder Bentwood’s prison. Traded in a business deal like a sack of grain by her own father. The name ‘training room’ was just a euphemism. This was where they broke new employees and impressed upon them the single-handed rule of the boss’s will.
Why did he even want her as an elixir runner? She didn’t have strength or magic. She was just plain Phoebe. But her father was Jack Quinn the infamous dark alchemist, and having power over her meant power over him, or so Bentwood had bragged when he visited.
“So, little girl, ready to run some Flight yet? You ought to be real familiar with how it works, knowing your father. He and I are going to stay real good buddies, now that you’re here. Not that he could love you much, sending you away like he did.”
She shook her head, mouth dry with fear and lack of water. She always knew her father was merciless. He sold dangerous, addictive elixirs like Flight—made from fairy nectar—that made people willing to spend every last coin for one more drop. It was no surprise he’d trade off his own daughter to a coworker. But Phoebe didn’t want to work for Bentwood. Didn’t want to leave her home. Not now, not ever.
“Sierra will come for me,” she squeaked.
And he laughed.
“If your fairy keeper sister was coming, she would have already been back with those missing fairies. The deal is sealed. She gambled. You lost. Better prepare to live the rest of your life as my servant.” He grinned, a grotesque smile that tugged on the red scar line across his cheek.
He was right.
Phoebe buried her face in her hands, barely able to pull her legs tight to her body. At least they had undone the manacles around her hands and feet. It was clear she couldn’t run byherself if she wanted to. One of the men, Donovan was his name, had visited earlier. To persuade her to work peacefully with her new boss, he said. And when she stubbornly refused to cooperate, he smashed a club on her knee, leaving it grossly swollen, maybe even broken.
The pain sent agony flashing through her, screams pouring from her mouth. But nothing could match the fear taking root deep inside her. Fear of pain, yes. But more, fear of being all alone in life. And the worst of all: fear of being powerless. She never, ever wanted to suffer this way again. But she had a horrible awareness that even if she survived and escaped against all odds, she’d never forget these feelings. They were stitching themselves to her heart. The best she could do was make sure it kept on beating.
Phoebe awoke with a gasp, sweat lining her brow. I’m safe, she reminded herself. I’m not that girl anymore.
Returning to sleep took a long time, and so morning found her bleary-eyed and exhausted. This wasn’t the first nightmare where she relived the worst of her time at Bentwood’s, and it wouldn’t be the last, she assumed. It made her even more thankful she’d see her friends in a short while.
Her morning was solitary and quiet. She pushed the nightmare from her mind and set about doing the daily work that a house required. Wash the dishes. Sweep the floor. It helped. A little. But she couldn’t help but think those memories were coming so often because she needed something more exciting in life. Some sort of purpose. Certainly, all this time spent alone didn’t help.
Sierra and her beau Micah frequently traveled throughout the ports to teach about the importance of keeping fairy magic abundant throughout Aluvia. Her best friend and fellow fairy keeper Corbin and his partner Nell often joined them to help persuade the more reluctant of the villagers. Some might not listen to Sierra but would come to see Nell, now famous for her prophecies.
Phoebe used to travel with Sierra and their friends, part of the important work being done. But Sierra began leaving Phoebe ‘safe at home’ over two years ago, after some dark alchemists attempted to assassinate the team on the road. They failed, of course, but Sierra said she couldn’t stand risking Phoebe’s safety. Later, Sierra asked Phoebe to stay on the beach instead of swimming in the ocean. And this last trip, Sierra said, “Stay in or near the house this week, okay, Phoebe? For me?”
Phoebe scowled but agreed, unable to ignore the stress visible on her big sister’s face. And now this happened.
Sierra and the others would arrive home later tonight, worn out, no doubt. They were one big family, and Phoebe missed their noisy teamwork when they were all gone.
This was one of those times, unfortunately. She set up the beans to cook all day, enough for everyone. She was relieved they’d be home before she had to sleep another night alone. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that skeleton, bits of ligaments and cartilage dangling like old thread. What if the predator wasn’t confined to the sea, like the great reptiles that lived both in water and sand in the east? The thought made her wish even more that she wasn’t alone. Corbin’s parents came by each day to check on her, but of course, today of all days they couldn’t visit because of a complicated healing they had to administer. She reminded herself that Old Sam, their unicorn, guarded the house somewhere out in his nearby forest, but it didn’t help. Her nerves were still stretched raw.
Phoebe paced the floor, heart racing. What had Tristan and Mina found out? If only Phoebe could communicate with the merfolk the way Sierra could share thoughts with her fairy queen. The closeness fairies shared with their keepers was the main reason Phoebe had always wished to be one. She never would be, of course. Unlike Sierra, Phoebe didn’t have a fairy keeper mark. She wasn’t destined for magic. But it would have been nice to share such close contact with her merfolk friends.
Phoebe couldn’t wait any longer. She’d be a bit early to meet Tristan and Mina, but the extra time along the ocean’s edge would only soothe her more. Phoebe banked the fire under the beans then took off. Along the path, she fed Old Sam and gave him a few carrots as an extra treat, enjoying the soft fuzz of the unicorn’s white muzzle. How she loved that animal. Unicorns, fairies, fauns, and merfolk―magical creatures of all kinds made life worth living. She petted his nose, and he left damp whuffles in her hair, bringing a smile to her face. She continued on down the path to the shore.
No fairies gleamed in the trees today. Where Sierra went, Queenie went too, taking all of her wee fairies in a glowing cloud of sparkles on their journeys. Phoebe missed the tiny fairies’ cheerful presence, the constant proof and celebration that magic was real.
While picking her way through the trees, a rabbit dashed across her path, running right across her foot. Startled, she tripped and fell to one knee. A sharp spike of pain shot through her bone. The bad knee. She gasped. Memories roared over, stealing her breath. A club coming down on her knee, crushing it against the dirty floor of the dungeon. She could hear the grating laughter of the guards, feel the sting of the cuts along her back. Worse yet, she remembered the belief that her sister must have died on her perilous journey, for why else hadn’t she come?
It was as if she were living it all over again, especially after her nightmare. Sweat ran down her face. Right there in the familiar path through the woods, she crouched down and rocked, her arms wrapped around her middle as if she were trying to keep from flying apart. Minutes passed while Phoebe’s mind tumbled through fear, unable even to form words through her terror. The panic came on her like that sometimes. She’d learned to suffer through. She didn’t
even tell anyone how often it still happened. It seemed silly. Four whole years had passed. Sierra and everyone else worried enough about Phoebe as it was.
As soon as she could stand, she raced down to the coast. She’d get past this. She always did. Her mer-friends would help her forget.
The sun shimmered high in the sky, reflecting like a beacon in the water. The sea reflected the deep blue of the noon sky. The sea was faithful that way. It always showed what was true. Phoebe knew her mer-friends were still working, but they’d arrive eventually.
Her favorite rock was submerged from the tide now, but she sat as far out as she could. The waves beyond the outcroppings were softer today, leaving the water at her feet almost like glass. She took a deep calming breath and let the waves in the distance lull her as they reached forward and fell back, over and over.
An hour passed, but still her friends did not arrive. She sang a song, an upbeat tune, thinking maybe it would draw at least one of them or perhaps the happy little seawees again, but no one came.
Disappointment nipped at her. Tristan and Mina would be harvesting clams today, as they did all summer, but surely the elders would have already seen the skeleton, provided an answer. Phoebe needed to make sure her friends were all right, after a night full of worry.
Sighing, she turned to leave the half-submerged rocky jetty, but froze at the sight of two men leaving the edge of the woods, a mere hundred footlengths away. She recognized one of them immediately: Donovan. She’d never forget the face of the man who had delivered her to Bentwood when her father traded her off. Donovan was also the one who had nearly broken her knee when she tried to resist. Fear burst through her, leaving her nearly breathless in shock. She wanted to curl into a ball and shake, but her feet wouldn’t move.
“Hello there, missy. Remember me, then, eh?” Donovan leered at her as he advanced slowly across the rocky shoreline. Three big boulders stood between Phoebe and the men.
Phoebe’s breath returned with a vengeance, and she started hyperventilating. That face had haunted a thousand nightmares in the last four years.
The second man was unknown to her, but his squinty eyes roamed across her, as if studying a pig for purchase.
Move. You’ve got to move! Phoebe shrieked to her frozen body. She gulped and staggered the several steps along the rocks to reach the shore, realizing she’d never escape running, not with wobbly knees like over-cooked custard. Their eyes followed her as they stood wide-legged on the path, pushing on each other’s shoulders as if sharing the grandest joke. She stepped farther away from the slippery rocks, and sand squished beneath her toes when she reached the shallows.
The men stepped casually toward her, not even bothering with weapons. They obviously thought she’d be easy to take. After all, she had been once. She took a step backward, and frothy surf kissed her feet.
“Ah now, lass, don’t be like that. We’re just here to talk, you know? Maybe a nice chat with you before we visit your sister about sharing some fairy nectar. Just a spot, now, won’t hurt the wee critters too much. Some folks still got a fierce need for Flight, you understand. She just won’t listen to reason, not even with the dragons running amok in the mountains because of her meddling. Maybe you could help… convince her,” Donovan said.
Tamping down her fear, Phoebe didn’t reply but instead scanned the horizon, the forest, the ocean. She’d known someone else had taken over Bentwood’s dark alchemy business after his death. Though they lost most of his stronghold in Port Iona, there was always someone wanting a little lift after a bad day, or a way to get rid of an enemy without notice. But nothing had ever reached the popularity―or profit―of Flight, made from now-forbidden fairy nectar.
She took another step back. Cold seawater swirled around her ankles. Jagged pebbles pierced the lining of her cloth slippers. She hadn’t worn her boots today, of all days. Trying to run in these would hurt, but any pain would be preferable to what those men could do to her. But where to run?
Help! She silently screamed. They had her cornered. They had split up, ensuring that no matter which way she ran, one of them would get her.
“Might as well come easy, then, right?” the other man crooned. “We don’t want to hurt you more than we’ve got to.”
The words jolted Phoebe to action like spurs to a horse. They had her path to the forest cut off. That left just one option, one they’d never consider.
She turned and ran into the surf, wading straight out to sea. Cold water sloshed up over her shins, past her thighs. Her pants and the edge of her tunic clung to her legs as she pushed farther into the water. She glanced over her shoulder to see if they were following, but they were laughing, arms crossed over their chests.
Keep laughing, Phoebe thought to herself. Her friends would hopefully be here soon. She only had to wait long enough for them to come and take her to safety. Waist-deep, she reached the edge of the sandbar and swam headlong into the deeper water beyond the rock outcroppings, feet no longer touching the bottom. Tristan and Mina had taught her excellent swimming skills.
Phoebe moved smoothly through the small waves. She tossed another glance over her shoulder.
The men were yelling. “Come back, stupid girl!”
“No point in drowning, now is there?” hollered Donovan. He pulled his hat off and twisted it in his hand.
Phoebe smirked and turned back to the ocean. She would do anything―anything―to not go back with those men. She’d die first, but she didn’t plan on dying today.
She treaded water for a moment, despite knowing that it was a quick way to get tired. When the men began wading into the water, she yelped and kept swimming. She’d have to lose them. Obviously, they’d follow her. Maybe even think long enough for one of them to go grab a rowboat from port while the other kept her pinned here. She had to get away now.
Phoebe held her breath, hoped for the best, and dove deep. She swam as far down as she could, eyes open despite the sting, looking for her friends.
Come to me! She mentally begged them. Come save me! They always seemed to know when she wanted them. She prayed for today to be the same.
With her mer-friends, she could stay under the water all day. But if they didn’t show up, she’d run out of air or energy sooner or later. Probably sooner.
With the sun high in the sky, she was surprised at how quickly the sunlight faded as she descended. Murky green swirls of water swooshed by, along with schools of vibrant fish and an occasional jelly. She steered clear of their dangling stinging tentacles. Hopefully no sharks would be nearby.
Her lungs were too tight. She needed oxygen. She kicked toward the surface, bubbles slipping out of her mouth.
Then something grabbed her ankle and pulled her down. Down, deeper into the dark waters.
hoebe’s leg felt as if it were sheathed in ice. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the creature below her. It was at least twice her size. It had a long pointed black tail, more snakelike than fish, but its face was that of a beautiful woman, marble-statue-perfect. Glowing red eyes stared out from the center of that stunning beauty like twin flames. This was no mermaid.
Then the thing snarled, and large, sharp teeth pointed out in all directions. Phoebe screamed, her mouth full of water, and frantically kicked her legs, but the thing had an iron grip on her right ankle. Its hand covered half her lower leg.
Phoebe plowed her arms through the water over and over again, but the dull light overhead dwindled. She would die soon. Her lungs would pull in the salty water, and it would sink her to the sandy floor now coming into view. She had no hope that this growling, angry creature had any interest in helping her breathe.
Tristan! Her mind called out. Panic beat at her like a moth against a lantern. Things were getting fuzzy now. Her mind felt lighter than a fluff of dandelion. The unyielding pressure made her ankle burn, then tingle into numbness. Her arms stilled. She fought to keep holding her breath. Her hair swirled around her as if alive, the only part of her left with any movement.
Her eyelids drifted shut, and an image appeared in her mind: a stirring shadow of some giant beast that glowed a sullen red. She somehow knew it was asleep, this terrifying thing. But it was rumbling, it was moving, it was waking… The vision faded, and just before things went completely black, a bright light flashed, visible even through her closed eyes. She barely managed to crack an eyelid. Cool blue light shimmered in the water around her like a sapphire in the sun, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.
So pretty. Like sparkling jewels…
As she drifted into unconsciousness, a ragged voice called to her.
“Phoebe, stay with me,” it begged.
Phoebe was perplexed by the pain she heard in the voice but was too far gone to look. It was a deep voice, a familiar voice that made her want to smile, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate. She was a heavy anchor, stuck on the bottom of the ocean.
Something shook her, and a stubborn spark of life made her take a deep breath, before she remembered she was under the water.
Her eyes flew open when the cold water swirled inside her without harm, filling her body with energy. She gasped, grabbing at her ankle, but it was freed. No terrifying monster glared below her. Instead, Tristan held her in his arms. They had risen from the depths, the water now full of light all around them.
“Breathe,” he urged, gazing at her face, black eyes tracking every inch of her, as if looking for wounds. “Have you lost your senses? Why did you come this far out to sea alone?”
“Something grabbed me!” she said, dazed.
“A mer?”
“Th-Th-This wasn’t a mer,” Phoebe stuttered.
