by Starla Night
This was only her second time on the boat, and suppressed memories spilled forth.
Stink of the empty wine bottles. Stinging cuts. Boozy laughter.
Zara took a deep breath.
She was here for Zain. Not her childhood self. Zain.
She forced herself to rise and peer around the corner.
Her parents were standing a few feet apart in the middle of the deck. Her dad steered the big wooden wheel. A half-empty bottle rested in one loose hand.
Her mother faced him, back to Zara. She rested Zain on her hip.
He stared up at his grandmother, silent as usual.
“I found him in a bathtub.” Her mother straightened Zain’s bunny-decorated onesie. “Can you believe it? Zara has the mothering instincts of a barracuda.”
Her father grunted. “She never was too bright.”
“And so plain. Milly’s baby would have been adorable, don’t you think? Look at this child.” She tilted Zain’s unsmiling chin. “He’s better off here with us.”
“Don’t get attached.” Her father swigged from the clear bottle of liquid and coughed. “Sure he’s a merman? The feet look normal.”
“This is our grandson. He has my eyes.”
“You have to transform those feet into fins before we meet the buyer.”
Buyer?
Her parents hadn’t changed. Treating her and Milly like objects. Possessions to be used and discarded. Zara was the “stupid” one and Milly was the “attractive” one, but their value to their parents was the same.
Classic narcissistic disorder.
Thinking that made her calm.
She could handle her parents. They were dangerous narcissists. She was an adult.
Her mother pinched Zain’s bare human feet. “Make these into fins? How do you propose I do that?”
Her father’s eyes narrowed and a nasty smile curved his ugly mouth. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
This stopped now.
Zara stepped out from behind the cabin. “Give me back my son.”
Her parents startled.
In the harsh light of the single working bulb, they both looked older and more worn. Her mother’s cheeks had fallen in, giving her a toothless grimace. Her formerly fit father had puffed up like a microwaved marshmallow.
His mean smile was still the same. “Zara, I didn’t give you permission to board my boat.”
Anxiety sliced into her belly. Fight or flight.
She clenched her hands into fists. “Milly’s already called the police.”
Hopefully.
“So you can report yourself for leaving a baby in the bathtub?” Her father took another swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It was no longer the wine of her childhood; he’d switched over to fifty proof rum. “Stupidity is no defense in court.”
“I’m not stupid!”
Even though she was an adult, a college graduate, and she’d tried to fight warriors in hand-to-hand combat, one word from her father and she was a helpless little girl again.
Zain started crying.
Her mother bounced him. “Hush, Zara. You’re upsetting him.”
Powerlessness threatened her. Of course Zain was upset. They were connected.
Zara’s hands shook as hard as her voice. “Give me back my son!”
Her father made a flubbing noise. “Oh, come on. You’ve barely had him a week. He’s not really yours.”
That wasn’t her fault — but it was truth.
Her parents always knew exactly how to undermine her.
She made fists again. “Yes, he is!”
Her shrill cry made her father wince. He rubbed his head as if he had a hangover. Maybe he did; just because he was drinking with red eyes didn’t mean he wasn’t coming off a worse bender. “Stop your whining. You don’t deserve to have my grandson. He is the world’s most exotic pet.”
Pet?
She stopped shaking. “He’s not a pet. He’s a person.”
“No, he’s a million dollars, starting bid. And you owe us, Zara. You stole our Sea Opal.”
Zara’s odd calm returned. Her anger had awoken and eclipsed her fear.
These were her parents. They were terrible human beings. There was no point in getting upset. Nothing she said would ever pass through their thick fog of self-interest.
In her mother’s arms, Zain quieted as well.
“I owe you nothing,” she said to her parents. “The Sea Opal was never yours to begin with. And neither is my son. Give him back to me now and never come near us again.”
“How dare you!” Her mother hissed at Zara. “He’s ours too. You always were mean. Ungrateful, ugly Zara.”
“Yes, how can you deny your son a relationship with his grandparents?” Her father tickled Zain’s unsmiling cheek. “That’s not fair.”
Zain did not coo like an ordinary baby. He stared unblinking at his grandfather as though he saw under the smile to the real monster.
Her father frowned.
“It’s completely fair.” Zara’s calm persisted. “You’re criminals. Kidnappers, bullies, human traffickers.”
He snorted as if she’d made the funniest claims.
She persisted. “You’re already wanted for skipping out on bail. When the police catch you, you’re going away.”
Her mother flushed hotly. “Because of your lies. Your father didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The truth will come out,” he agreed, dismissing Zara completely as he navigated to open water.
Worry twinged.
How far were they going? What had happened to Elan? Were the police coming at all?
Her frustration resurfaced. “If you’re so innocent, go tell the police!”
“Why should I? We aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Zara, you’ve always been a miserable, stingy girl,” her mother said factually. “Milly was much more agreeable. You’re not wanted, and you never have been.”
The old words hurt. She swallowed the shards in her throat. The calm she’d been feeling twisted into the dangerous edge of panic. Her hands started to shake again.
“Just go away,” her mother sneered. “You disgust me. I never want to see you again.”
“I’m not leaving without my son.”
“I think you are.” Her father screwed the cap on the mostly empty rum bottle and hefted it with a new look in his unbalanced eyes. “I told you to get off my ship.”
“And I told you I’m not going anywhere without my son!”
He winced and hefted the liquor bottle by the skinny neck, turning the base into a thick glass bludgeon.
“You’re wrong.” He left the wheel and took hulking steps toward her, bottle raised. “Dead wrong.”
This was the same tone he took moments before he’d tried to strangle her in the sacred island cave.
Fear crashed over her in a breathless wave. Her vision went black.
She turned and stumbled down the junk-filled corridor between the railing and the cabin. Where could she go? Where could she hide? If she ran inside, he could trap her in a room, bludgeon her to unconsciousness, and throw her overboard.
Zara hit the back railing. The white froth of the propeller churned the water.
Her father trapped her. “There’s an easy way and a hard way off this boat, Zara.”
“Not without my son.” She curled her hands around the railing.
“We’ll see about that.”
In the distance, lights flashed and sirens sounded. The police boat! They weren’t so alone after all. Confidence surged in her.
She whirled to face him. “Are you going to hit me in front of the police?”
He followed her gaze. His expression hardened.
“It’s too late.” She glared at him powerfully even though her chest and hands still shook. “They’ll throw the book at you. You’re never getting out of jail. I’ll make sure of that.”
His eyes widened, and he bared his teeth.
Fear
slid through her like a knife.
He thumped the bottle on one palm, the remaining liquid splashing inside the bottle. “I should’ve done this the night your mother brought you home from the hospital.”
Her heart raced.
She backed into the railing and tried to slide away. Her shoulder hit the top of the ladder.
Her father cut her off. Fury changed his face into an unrecognizable mask. He lifted the bottle. He screamed with his crazy. “Die, Zara!”
Elan surged over the railing and smashed into her father.
Her father flew sideways. His rum bottle bounced on the wood.
Elan turned to Zara. Dripping, intent, huge in comparison to her father, and all muscle. “Are you—”
Her father roared to his feet and slammed into Elan.
They fought, struggling for the advantage. Warrior and brawler grappled on the frayed wood. But Elan had the clear advantage. He lifted her father by the thigh and shoulder and threw him into the cabin. Her father hit the edge of the bar and lay in a groaning heap.
Zara raced to the bow.
Her mother saw her and dangled Zain over the railing. “Stop!”
Zara skidded to a stop.
“Tell that monster to let my husband go or else I will drop his son!”
Powerless, helpless, sick darkness pooled in Zara’s stomach. Evil held all the cards. She held none.
But…
Wait. She started to think about this.
Elan was still with her father, but they weren’t making much noise. She thought her dad might already be defeated.
And the fall might hurt Zain. They were high up. He could hit the side of the boat, miss the bulging spray, or belly flop. Once in the water, though, Zain could transform. He knew how to swim.
He knew how to breathe.
“I’ll drop him!” Her mother’s ropey arms shook in the sleeveless tank top.
Zara sucked in a breath and looked her mother square in the crazy eyes. “Go ahead.”
“What?” Her mother curled her lip in fury. “I’m warning you. I’ll do it!”
“So do it.”
“Don’t threaten me!”
Her missing calm returned. Her parents were at the end of their rope. And they were using the last of that rope to affix their own nooses. “I’m not. We’re done here. Give me Zain now or together we’ll wait for the police.”
Her mother frowned.
Zara walked to the control panel and reduced the throttle.
Her mother screamed.
The engine slowed way down. Zara left the rest of the panels and returned to the deck. “Now we just wait for the police to arrive.”
Her mother seethed.
But she was also strangely old. Like her father, who Zara could see down the corridor was on the ground, moaning.
“You were never wanted! Ugly, stupid, weak stain on our lives. You should all just die!”
Zain started crying.
That was it.
Zara’s fury crackled. She stalked to her mother. “Give. Me. Back. My. Son!”
Her mother stared.
She held out her hands. Zain reached for her.
Her mother twisted to hold the baby even farther over the side of the yacht. “You listen to me—”
“No, you give him back right now or I’ll push you both overboard and let the ocean sort you out.”
Her mother frowned. “You’re sick.”
“You forget. Zain and I can both breathe underwater. We’re half mer. He’s immune to drowning.” She glared at her mother with her full force. “How about you?”
“Mer monster.” Her mother released him to Zara’s arms with disgust.
“Whose fault is that?” Zara took her son. “Anyway, if you’re what ‘normal’ looks like, I’m so glad to be a monster.”
Her mother stared at Zara like she didn’t know her.
She didn’t.
Zara had fought her and won.
Zain’s arms tightened around her neck. Zara rocked her baby gently, soaking his onesie against her freezing wet clothes. Blanket, she needed a blanket. But despite the cold, he didn’t let go.
Elan dragged her father down the obstacle course between the corridor and cabin. He dumped her father in a lump beside her mother.
The lights and sirens of the police boat blared across the dark night.
Her mother hugged her elbows. “Okay. You got your way. Now, leave us alone.”
Zara leaned against Elan. “We’ll get off when we’re ready.”
“You owe us. For everything. We gave you the ability to breathe underwater.” Her mother cleverly talked herself into a new reality where she was the victim and Zara the aggressor. “If it wasn’t for us, you two never would have met. Your son wouldn’t exist. All we wanted to do was visit with our grandson. Would you deny us even that small happiness?”
“Tell the police,” Zara said flatly, hugging her baby to her chest as the lights grew brighter and the ships pulled up alongside. “Maybe one of them cares.”
Her mother’s mouth flapped. In the face of Zara’s disinterest, her toxicity lost its potency.
The police took possession of the yacht and booked her parents.
Milly met them at the dock, worried stiff and fiercely frightened.
Her mother screamed at her for being ungrateful. She turned bright red. The police stopped that and forced the criminals into the police car. Everyone drove to the central offices to give statements.
It was a very late night.
This time the charges would be extensive. Kidnapping, breaking and entering, assault. And this time, the charges would stick.
Zara would ensure it.
Dawn was just tinting the sky pink when they returned to their house. She curled with her back against Elan in her bed and Zain passed out against her chest.
Her son had reached for her.
The memory of his small arms tightening around her neck kept her awake with happiness. Finally, their rift had healed.
Bullies like her parents used intimidation and fear. She’d felt so sick and powerless when her mother threatened to drop Zain … and then she’d realized there was nothing to fear. Her mother’s threat was empty. Zara had called her mother’s bluff and won.
A new stirring of power moved within her.
If she could win against her parents, she could win against any fears.
Even against the warriors who had forced her to the surface.
“I’m ready,” she told Elan softly in the early dawn. “I want to be unstoppable. Powerful. Teach me.”
He was silent for a long time. But she didn’t think he was asleep.
Had he changed his mind?
A spasm of worry held her tongue. If he had changed her mind after seeing her weakness, then—
“I have faith in you,” he murmured into her hair, reassuring her unasked question. He must have sensed her soul light wavering or something. “I was silent because I was thinking of where to begin.”
“What do you mean?”
“You must practice in the water. But our swim last night was not stealthy.”
Cold dropped into her belly. “You think your warriors are coming?”
“Yes.” His tone was grim. “We must be more careful. Any additional slips will cost Zain’s freedom and end in my death.”
Chapter Eighteen
Elan felt a growing low-level stress, like a buzz just beneath his hearing, slowly driving him crazy.
Zara’s success in defeating her parents caused a tectonic shift in her attitude. She suddenly believed in him and dedicated herself to capturing her power.
She started every morning and ended every night with one hundred foot flexibility exercises, trying to make her stubby human feet unfold into rippling mer fins. She went to a new lagoon on the island every evening. After another frustrating, unproductive meeting with Border and Immigration, she swam for hours. And she made love fiercely, tenderly, insistently every night to “grow her soul lig
ht” so she could capture her power.
And every night, instead of feeling more healed by their closeness, Elan stayed awake afterward with her nestled sleepily against his side and stared at the ceiling.
It almost felt like her preparations made their encounter with the warriors close in. He thought he had resigned himself to it, but the way she talked and moved and trained slammed the truth in his face.
He was terrified.
Her soul was so bright now she lit the darkness with her glow. She ought to have transformed already. What was holding her back?
She was vulnerable.
Elan would not lose her. He twitched with the thought. His fingers dug into her soft bicep like she was already slipping away.
She murmured in her sleep and rolled her shoulder, trying to free herself of his obsessive grip.
He forced himself to release her.
She settled.
His body tensed in waves. He wanted to grip her tighter. Hold like a limpet to a rock. Anchor her here, to this bed, to this hour, where it was safe.
Before it was too late.
The following day, Zara sat at lakeside endlessly flexing her human toes while her hair dried in the sun. Zain played in the muck. Vibrant green water reflected the hilly landscape and gray, cloud-skiffed sky.
“I think Varadouro is walled off.” She switched feet. “The hyper saline pools are separated from the ocean by volcanic cliffs.”
“No going near the ocean,” he growled. “Not until you can make your fins.”
“But maybe salt water triggers my fins.”
“Then pour salt in a bath.”
“I already tried.” She stretched her too-human feet and sighed. “We switched positions. Before, you wanted me to go into the ocean.”
“That was before we recklessly exposed ourselves chasing after Zain.”
Her smile faded. She looked down on her quietly playing son.
In addition to practicing her fins and arguing with Border and Immigration, Zara also listened to harbor reports conveyed by Vaw Vaw’s uncles. Another island had seen mer, perhaps. Early morning sun partially blinded observers’ eyes; the shadows had floated, suspicious, against the waves.
“Would your people attack us on the land?” she asked Elan that night over a dish full of spiced sausages and stewed greens. Zain rested on his mother’s lap carefully eating cooled shreds of spicy pork and mashed vegetables.
