The Fate Of The Muse
Derrolyn Anderson
Copyright © 2011 by Derrolyn Anderson
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions of it. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
PROLOGUE
The sun descended into the sea, and when the truck dropped him off at the familiar sign, his heart leapt. He was finally back. After months of rough travel, evading authorities and relying on the kindness of strangers, he had arrived at his ultimate destination. Night was rapidly falling, and he knew that he’d never find the house in the dark, so he cast about, looking for something to bed down on. He pulled a cardboard box out of a ditch, and searched out a hidden hollow in some brush that would do.
He was close to her now, he could feel it. All the weeks of travel, all of the pain and suffering would be worth it, just to see her face again. He clung to the memory of it, closing his eyes and remembering her sweet smile, the sound of her voice, and the scent of her soft skin. He recalled every little detail about her; the way she moved, the color of her hair, and the way her aqua eyes sparkled when they met his.
He realized he had done wrong, and he vowed that he would prove it to her. He knew what they had planned, and he swore that he would never let them have her again. When she saw him she’d realize that she loved him too– he just knew it– and soon they would be reunited. He was on a mission to find her or die trying; there was simply no other alternative.
They had tried to stop him at the border, but he was far too wily for them. His military training made it easy for him to suffer the depravations of hunger and sleeplessness; he was accustomed to the cold. When he finally made it to a port, his strong back and enormous muscles made it easy for him to find work aboard a cargo ship, and Canada’s largely unguarded borders were no challenge for his survival skills.
Hitching rides had been a little more difficult. His sheer size intimidated most drivers and more than one had pulled away at the last minute when they’d gotten a close-up look at his battle scarred face. But slowly, surely, the trains he jumped on and the trucks that stopped for him brought him closer and closer to his goal. Many friendly people had offered him food and drink along the journey, and when he managed to explain to them in halting English that he was on a quest for love, they had shown him surprising kindness.
He drew a deep breath through his flattened nose, savoring the fresh ocean air. He was so close he could taste it; he knew it wouldn’t be long now. He spread the cardboard on the damp ground and rummaged through his pack, pulling out a bottle of beer and a hunk of bread. He sat with his back to a tree, eating and imagining their reunion with a sigh.
When it was fully dark he climbed into his bedroll, turning his collar up against the foggy night air, and rolling onto his side. He was certain that the powerful urge that gnawed at his soul was there for a reason, for surely the creator would never set him on such a path without a purpose. He settled into the most comfortable position possible, falling asleep contented in the knowledge that it was his destiny to see her again.
Now it was all up to fate.
CHAPTER ONE
PROM
“When we’re married, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed every morning.”
I laughed, “Really? Don’t you think that could get a little messy? I mean, what if I want to eat leftover Chinese or something? With chopsticks…”
I reached over for a nail file, pinning the phone between my ear and shoulder.
He kept talking, “We’ll get a couple of dogs that we can take to the beach every day.”
“Will they go surfing with us?” I asked teasingly.
“They’ll probably want to fetch sticks out of the water,” he replied, “Or footballs.”
“I think our poodles might be too small for that,” I said sternly.
“Not if they’re the big kind,” he laughed, “But I was thinking more, like, golden retrievers…”
It had become a kind of game with us, gently teasing each other about how things would be when we could finally be together. Ethan had been bringing up the future more and more, describing to me our potential lives in detail. Clearly, it was something he’d been thinking about a lot. I couldn’t tell if it was to reassure me, or simply to convince himself that we’d eventually get there.
I wasn’t so sure where we would end up a month ago, when I’d returned from a disastrous spring break vacation to discover yet more unimaginable facts about myself. Ever since I’d learned that my mother was a mermaid, my life kept getting stranger and stranger. I began to have random visions of the future, and found that I had inherited the power to inspire excellence in others. I was, in fact, kind of a reluctant muse.
“There won’t be any puppies in my future if Cruz kills me for not doing my nails,” I said, looking down at my ragged cuticles. I had been chewing them nervously lately, and Cruz was anxious for me to look my very best when I debuted his latest creation.
“I’ll see you tonight,” said Ethan.
I smacked a kiss into the receiver, and heard one in return as I put down the phone.
So Ethan and I ended up attending the senior prom, and I was a little surprised to find myself enjoying it. I smiled warmly up at him, gently squeezing his hand. I was starting to feel lucky again, grateful that the school year was finally coming to the end, and relieved that nothing out of the ordinary had happened in a while. I was happy that we’d made it to this point.
So far, so good.
When my cousin presented me with the prom dress he’d designed and sewn I was touched. He’d poured his heart and soul into making the most amazing dress imaginable, and like so many of his other creations, it was truly a work of art. Cruz saw the dance as his last chance to show everyone at school how talented he really was; he planned to go out in a blaze of glory. I suppose it was his version of closure, an opportunity to put the final period on a traumatic chapter of his life. Like me, Cruz had always considered high school to be a form of slow torture.
I hadn’t wanted to leave the house for much of anything lately, but confronted with Cruz’s big brown eyes and relentless pleading, I’d softened and agreed to go. I simply couldn’t rain on his parade. After all, he had already made the dress.
He’d also crafted beautiful gowns for our friends Megan and Shayla, and had been bugging them about going to the prom for weeks. Shameless in his use of emotional blackmail, Cruz alternately whined and bullied until he finally ground down their resistance. They ultimately rolled their eyes at each other and decided to go as his double dates. After all, they had to admit, how could they complain about getting custom dresses made for them by a soon to be famous fashion designer?
We all stood, listening to a local band butcher some popular music, watching a bunch of overdressed teenagers dancing self-consciously to the beat. I stifled a yawn and leaned against Ethan, disoriented by the bright sparkling flashes reflecting from a mirrored ball. Light swirled and twirled all around the darkened ballroom, reminding me of fractured sunbeams filtering down into the depths of the dark sea. The crowd swayed like waving seaweed, and the only thing missing was a battalion of phosphorescent glowing mermaids.
Cruz the designer had outdone himself as usual, dressing and styling “his girls” down to the tiniest detail. I smoothed my skirt and admired his exquisite craftsmanship. In my opinion, I had on the most beautiful dress there; he’d made me an ethereal ballgown that it could hav
e come right out of a fairy tale. It had a perfectly fitted strapless bodice that sparkled with tiny crystals sprinkled onto the palest lavender chiffon. The skirt was full and long, whispering when I moved with the rustling of crisp taffeta, a dozen or so layers of tulle netting contributing to the skirt’s lavish volume. It made me feel like a princess, but I drew the line at the tiara Cruz wanted, opting instead for a loose Gibson Girl style up-do that suited the romantic dress.
I enjoyed watching Cruz bask in all the attention we were attracting. It was exactly the sort of vindication he had imagined, and he reveled in it. He stood there holding court, Megan and Shayla on his arms, answering questions from the popular girls who wanted to know where our trio of unusually gorgeous dresses came from. I had to smile, knowing that one day they’d all be bragging to their friends about how they’d gone to school with him.
If anyone remembered that just a few short months ago Cruz and Megan were pariahs, with Shayla acting as their main tormenter, it didn’t show. Former mean-girl Shayla hung on Cruz’s every word, laughing with exaggerated gestures at his constant stream of witticisms. His kindness to her had changed her life, and she’d become his biggest fan. She proudly told anyone who would listen how talented he was, and that he was going to be a famous designer one day.
Megan had morphed into a sultry looking club singer, sporting a Marilyn Monroe inspired halter dress that suited her voluptuous figure. Cruz had broken all the rules by dressing a redhead in red, and the effect was stunning. She had even straightened her normally curly hair for the occasion, wearing it pinned back sleekly, exposing the pretty face she used to go to great lengths to hide.
She looked far older and more sophisticated than your typical high school senior, and she also looked irritated. Megan never did like suffering fools, and she was itching for the whole night to be over.
Shayla smiled happily and stood up straight, towering over almost everyone like a goddess among mortals. Cruz had outfitted her lean and lanky figure in a classic white column dress accented with hand-braided gold trim. Her makeup was flawless, her long blonde hair worn down and loose, and I could see many of the other girl’s dates sneaking a few furtive glances over at her. She looked every inch the sophisticated supermodel she would soon become.
Cruz caught my eye, standing in the middle of a crowd, surrounded, and yet somehow still alone. He watched the dancing couples with a wistful expression on his face, and it suddenly occurred to me that despite having all his friends around him, he was lonely. I wished that he had someone special in his life– someone that meant as much to him as Ethan meant to me.
“Look how much you changed Shayla and Megan,” Ethan whispered in my ear. I looked reproachfully at him, wishing he wouldn’t bring up my so-called muse powers.
“Cruz is the one who dressed them up,” I said defensively.
“Look how much you changed Cruz,” he countered, smiling wryly at my protestations.
I had started looking for any possible way to avoid taking credit for anything that my friends achieved. I hated the thought that their success was due in any part to me. The idea that I had somehow nudged them along made me uncomfortable, and I was having difficulty grappling with the ramifications.
Only Aunt Evie and Ethan knew about the strange power I had to enhance people’s innate gifts and talents, and that was one secret I desperately wanted kept from everyone else. As a fellow mermaid-human hybrid, my Aunt Evie was possessed of the same ability. Unlike me, she was a practiced manipulator, and she wielded her power with relish.
Evie couldn’t really describe exactly how it worked, but she said I’d know it when I felt it. She was right about that, for seeing my friends flourish brought me feelings of intense satisfaction that went beyond mere altruism. Apparently, the power was strongest when I really truly wanted someone to succeed, and capriciously affected some people more than others. Most disturbing, it wasn’t always positive, for I was capable of bringing out the worst as well as the best in people.
“C’mon,” Ethan slipped his arm around my waist, “Let’s dance.”
He’d surprised me earlier in the evening by knowing all the ballroom steps, and he took me out onto the floor for every slow one, leading us smoothly and expertly.
“Where did you learn to dance?” I asked him, watching as his face clouded over a little.
“I, uhm, well… I had to go to the prom last year.”
I realized that his former girlfriend had made certain that he knew how to dance properly for her senior prom. I smiled to myself; it had taken some doing, but I’d mostly gotten over being jealous of her. He was all mine now.
“Evie made me learn,” I teased him.
Aunt Evie had always stressed the fact that a social education was at least as important as an academic one. She was convinced that the hours I spent in dance and etiquette lessons would pay off someday; visions of me consorting with high society danced in her head. “Think of all the formal occasions in your future!” she’d say breathlessly, “You never know where you’ll end up being invited.”
For most of my life I’d never imagined doing anything other than traveling with my father in remote agricultural areas. Our lifestyle was unlikely to ever require high heels or dancing, and I was comfortable with things as they were. Nevertheless, I always humored Evie, partly because my father was convinced that I needed a feminine influence in my life; but mainly because she was impossible to resist.
Dad was finishing the last few weeks of a crop research project in Afghanistan that I feared wasn’t going as well as he had expected. I couldn’t help but wonder how my life would be if he’d allowed me to accompany him like I’d wanted to in the first place. His decision to send me to stay with Abby and Cruz in Aptos had set a whole chain of events into motion that led to the discovery of my true heritage, answering questions about my mother that had been hidden from me my whole life.
It also led to me being kidnapped by a greedy sociopath, where I was held hostage along with two captured mermaids. Evil and ruthless, Peter had hatched a plot to breed mermaid hybrids and raise them as his own personal muses; using them to manipulate his super-rich clients. He actually thought he could force me into going along with his perverse plans, believing I could be persuaded with threats and bribes. I grimaced in revulsion at the memory.
After I’d escaped him, Peter ended up dead at the hands of his equally vile backers, and I was nervously aware that they were still out there– wealthy and powerful people who knew exactly what I was and where I could be found. For now, it looked as though they were going to leave me alone, and I fervently prayed it would stay that way.
Just the thought of them made me cling onto Ethan tighter. He maneuvered us off the dance floor and into a dark corner, pulling me into his broad chest, “How long before we can get out of here?”
“I’m afraid Cruz has after-plans,” I said.
“We never get to be alone anymore,” he complained, pressing his cheek against mine.
I sighed, “He said he has a surprise for us.”
“Hmm…” he crooned in my ear, “Can’t we just say, thanks– but no thanks?”
I shook my head no, “He went to so much trouble to make me this dress,” I gestured around the room, “And this whole thing is really important to him.”
Ethan smiled in amusement, shaking his head. He still couldn’t get over the fact that going to the prom meant absolutely nothing to me.
I continued on, “I think I owe him my gratitude, and at least one night of my life.”
“I’m grateful for this dress too,” he ran his hands across my bare shoulders and down my back, bending to plant a row of kisses along my collarbone. His warm lips started blazing a trail up my neck that made me shiver.
I turned to meet his face with mine, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks.
He was right, we hadn’t been really alone in ages. Between Ethan working virtually non-stop, and my pregnant Aunt Abby concentrating the full force of her nestin
g instinct on me, we had barely been able to hold hands under the kitchen table lately. Maybe it was just as well.
I was truly head-over-heels in love with him, and I’d marry him tomorrow if I could, but a maddening little shadow of a doubt remained in the back of my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder if my muse powers had somehow manipulated him into making the ultimate commitment without really considering it.
My rational mind realized that we were probably too young to be making such a big decision, but I also knew for certain that I loved him more than life itself. Ethan was stability personified, driven by anxieties I didn’t fully understand to plan and control the future. My own life was threatening to spin out of control at any moment, and I needed him desperately. He’d given me the strength to remain human; if it weren’t for him I’d be deep underwater, swimming in ignorant bliss for all eternity.
I had to wonder; was he truly ready to put up with my bizarre circumstances for the rest of his life? Did it matter if it was what I wanted? I pushed all the niggling doubts out of my mind and brushed his lips with mine softly, slipping my hands around his back to pull him closer as we kissed.
“EXCUSE ME!”
Our heads both turned towards the angry face of the chaperone, a prim English teacher who was clearly taking the job very seriously. I suppose we weren’t making her life any easier; sometimes we had a hard time keeping our hands to ourselves.
“One more time and you’re out of here,” she snapped, turning on her heel.
“Don’t tempt me,” Ethan muttered under his breath as we stepped apart.
“Let’s go see what Cruz is up to.” I took his hand and led him away, ignoring the snickering of the surrounding prom-goers.
“There you are!” Cruz called out as we approached him, “It’s almost time!”
“Time for what?” I smiled, happy to see him so animated.
03 The Fate Of The Muse - Marina's Tales Page 1
