by Aspose
Jasmine pulled back and gave her a wobbly grin. “Blame it on your map. You forgot to mention that last curve in the road.” Her smile faded as she glanced at the two men who watched them impassively. She looked back at her friend. “What’s going on, Wiley?”
“It’s…” Wiley broke off and looked at the dark haired man Jasmine didn’t know. He was perched on a desk, his feet crossed at the ankles. Her erstwhile escort stood near him, which was also as far from Jasmine as the room allowed.
“I don’t suppose we could have some privacy?” Wiley asked coldly. The handsome stranger inclined his head, indicating that he had heard her, but he didn’t move. She muttered something under her breath and led Jasmine to the far end of the room, sitting down with her on a couch. Lemming came up and nudged Wiley’s hand, and she absently stroked her while she explained.
“We’re on another world,” she began slowly.
Jasmine glanced at the triple moons visible through the window comprising an entire wall and then back at the door. She nodded slowly in agreement. She’d figured that one out on her own.
Wiley watched her carefully. “I was born here.”
Jasmine’s eyes unfocused for a moment as she pondered that. “It explains a few things. Go on.”
Wiley took a breath. “The guy who brought you here is my cousin, Keilor.”
Jasmine’s eyes darted in surprise to the man, and for the first time she really looked at him, scrutinizing his features. Black, silken hair framed high cheekbones, reminiscent of a Cherokee warrior, and the faint flare of his nostrils reinforced the impression. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes from across the room, but the expression in them of wary distaste was all too clear. She was already far too familiar with the strength of his hands, and the excellent lighting in the room only confirmed that he was in excellent shape.
He raised a dark brow in mocking acknowledgment of the introduction.
“You have my sympathy,” she told her friend.
Wiley smiled slightly. She didn’t even look at the other man, just jerked her head in his direction. “The other guy is called Jayems.” They were both quiet for a moment. Wiley’s hands twisted her skirt. At last she said stiffly, “They won’t let me go home, and they want you to go back right away and forget you ever saw me.”
Jasmine sat back, carefully controlling her anger. Her expression was cold, but a dangerous smile turned up one side of her mouth. “Two words, my friend.” She twitched an eyebrow and switched to Pig Latin. “Avyna, Ealsay, anda eytha anca ovesha ita upa eirtha assa.” Navy SEALS, and they can shove it up their…
Wiley laughed a little, relieved. She understood that Jasmine wasn’t going to just leave her there.
Jasmine smiled slyly, squeezed her hand and stood up. “It’s been real, Wiley, and I’m glad to see that you’re all right.” She turned to the one called Keilor. “I’m ready to go home now.”
Keilor looked back at her with a knowing expression. He turned to Jayems and made a few signs with his hands. Jayems glanced at her assessingly and signed back. Keilor moved towards her. “Why so hasty? You just got here. Perhaps it would be best if you waited to return until morning.” He watched her closely.
Jasmine felt the panic flash like a neon sign across her face and quickly looked down, doing her best to contain it. She swallowed and said as evenly as possible, “I thought you were in a hurry to get rid of me.” She bit the inside of her lip, cursing herself for saying something so revealing, and hastily amended, “Not that I mind staying to talk to a friend or anything, but this place gives me the creeps.”
Jayems straightened from the desk and sauntered towards her until both he and Keilor towered over her. She didn’t dare look at him. “Friends,” he mused. “That’s not what Rihlia called you. Sister of her heart, she said. Closer than blood.” He paused and looked her up and down with too knowing eyes the color of polished bronze. “Odd that such a one would desert her so quickly.” Suddenly he grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Would you be planning trouble, little sister?”
She met his eyes with difficulty, and kept them there through force of will. “Who would believe my story?” she evaded and then mentally winced. Why hadn’t she just lied? She might as well just blurt out that she intended to bring the entire U.S. Army with her if she could find her way back.
He studied her for a moment and then softly snorted. Releasing her, he told Keilor, “Find her a room down the hall and see that she’s comfortable, would you cousin? And post guards at her door.” His smile was less than pleasant. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to Rihlia’s loyal little sister.”
She stiffened as Keilor’s hand closed around her arm.
Wiley got in his way at once.
He paused to acknowledge her effort. “Cousin.”
Alarmed, Wiley looked around him to rail at Jayems. “What are you doing?”
His eyes narrowed. “Sending her away before I break her neck for lying to me.” He glanced at the wide-eyed Jasmine grudgingly. “Though I suppose she can be forgiven, as she does it out of loyalty to you.”
His gaze glittered at Wiley. “There is a limit to what I will forgive those who try to deceive me.”
“You said she could go home.”
His face hardened. “Keilor.”
Keilor gently moved the resisting Wiley aside and continued toward the door, leaving Jayems to continue his battle in private.
“You be nice to her!” Wiley shouted after Keilor as they entered the gray stone hall.
When the Sea Burned
by
Autumn Dawn
PUBLISHED BY:
Autumn Dawn
When the Sea Burned
Copyright © 2013 by Autumn Dawn
***
When the Sea Burned
One will meld with the sea that seeks to claim her.
Prologue
The boy and his guardian floated by the throne. The mer ambassador was slumped on the dais steps, clutching his wounded side. The captain of the guard and two of his remaining warriors’ tails flicked as the door pounded, battered by the invading army. The boy king, no more than twelve, clutched the heavy trident. It had power but he was afraid it wouldn't be enough. His father had been killed, and he was all that was left of his family. He never wanted to be king, knew he wasn’t enough to protect his people from Olan’s invasion. They needed a miracle, one of the old heroes of legend, but he knew it was hopeless. He didn’t want to die.
The sounds of battle raged, shockwaves displacing the water tainted with blood.
The doors flew open with a surge of water and slammed shut. The surge became a lean man, an elemental with a hard face and a body of living water. The current carried him to a stop before the boy. He studied the boy for a moment, and held out his hand for the Trident, which hummed in anticipation. “I can stop them.”
“I know you,” the boy said in awe. He’d clung to the prophecies until he’d finally given up hope. “You're the king who will come again.”
The stranger nodded. “You're my nephew.”
The boy swallowed. “I can't stop them.”
“That's my job. Will you let me protect you?”
The boy hesitated before handing over the Trident. In the stranger's hand, it flashed and sizzled with power.
“Get behind me,” the new king said, and turned to face the door.
Chapter 1
She was drowning. Water swirled around her as the riptide tossed her gleefully, mocking her struggles as it dragged her out to sea. She needed air but she couldn't find up, and the night-dark ocean refused to release her. No ships were out at this hour, with no one to see her even if she could reach the surface.
Alicia hadn't seen it coming. An hour ago she had been at the Marina explaining the finer points of the yacht to three women who chartered it. The women had been expensively dressed in designer jeans and pricy, impractical shoes, hardly the types to stage a kidnapping. The tall, elegant black woma
n called Providence had waived a small bottle under Alicia's nose that instantly turned her sluggish, even passive. Providence had seated her and smoothed her creamy wool sweater, frowning thoughtfully at Alicia’s hooded sweatshirt as if contemplating fashion advice. The heavy gold disks of her necklace and bracelet winked gently in the fading light.
As they cruised the dark bay, the friendly Polynesian girl, Destiny, placed an ankle bracelet and a pinkie ring on Alicia and anointed Alicia’s head with oil that smelled like water lilies and sea grass. “This is no fun at all,” Destiny complained as she studied her handiwork. “If only the men wouldn’t be so stubborn! We could have a proper ceremony and a party. It would be so much easier on their ladies, too.” She noticed Alicia staring vacantly at her wide pink scarf and stroked it fondly. “Do you like it? It’s alpaca. I picked it up in Peru.”
Fortune snorted as she rummaged in the pockets of her cashmere coat. She might've been Spanish, with velvety cocoa skin and long, kinky reddish hair. “If they had been reasonable, we would never have taken their wedding jewelry in the first place.”
Providence stopped the boat. Fortune found a blue silk pouch and took one of Alicia's arms. With Destiny’s help, she heaved Alicia into the sea and dusted her with herbs, murmuring, “Seaberry, lotus and watercress, because you’ll need a little pepper to deal with him.” Louder, she said, “Fortune be with you. Oh, and kick Surge in the shin for me, will you? Tell him I'm tired of his petitions and grouch mail. Obviously, we're not going to let him marry a mermaid.”
Destiny rolled her eyes. “Destiny awaits.” She paused. “She has a point about the kicking.”
“Ladies,” Providence chided. “You’re talking about her future husband.” She waited until the other two subsided and regarded the girl silently, dazedly treading water. “Providence will guide you,” she said softly, and waved her hand.
The sea swallowed her whole. Alicia fought until precious oxygen escaped from her lungs and water flowed in, burning the delicate tissue. It was so dark, so bone-shaking cold as her body dissolved. She screamed in silent agony as salt water filled every cell, bursting into particles that melded with the brine. She was liquid, she was water…she was the sea.
Her consciousness spread impossibly wide, and she made contact with a distant presence. It registered shock and fury before she lost contact.
Alicia slipped away.
Surge realized what had happened as the newly made elemental made contact. He swore as her consciousness faded, raging at the Fates. He knew she was safe enough for the moment, but she would be forced into the sea soon. He needed to prepare.
He hated that a human was being forced on him. He’d spent centuries imprisoned because of them, and the last thing he wanted was a human wife.
He snarled as the current carried him in wide circles, the water elemental equivalent of pacing. He’d send someone to watch her. Much as he’d love to see the human world drown, he didn’t dare risk imprisonment again. He wouldn’t put it past the Fates to damn him for negligence if he didn’t control his “bride”.
He’d need somewhere to stash her, and the less water she had access to until she learned control, the better. Besides, a former human would probably go mad if she had to instantly adapt to living underwater. To her, it would feel like drowning.
He carefully didn’t think about what she had to go through to become like him. He was struggling with his rage as it was, and sympathy wasn’t welcome.
Snarling at the nearest guard, he gave him instructions and began to drain the palace.
Alicia stared at the ceiling until she recognized her surroundings. There was enough light spilling in from the harbor lights to recognize the bedroom on the yacht. She was on the floor, and apparently not dead.
She stood woozily, realizing she was wet and naked; her hair, normally bobbed and brown, hung to her waist in blue-green hanks. Her formerly short, unadorned nails had become perfectly manicured ovals; strong as talons and gleaming like opals in the half light.
“What did they do to me?” she muttered, snatching the quilt from the bed. Why had she woken beside the bed and not on it? Nothing made sense.
She flipped on the lights and flinched at the image in the mirrored closet doors. The hair was as bad as she’d thought, but her eyes were bizarre: a shimmering blue like the play of light on a clear stream. Her eyes had been brown, and the change was a shock.
She needed to go home. Wobbling to the door, she made her way to the dock. The wood was rough and cold under her bare feet, and the harbor seemed deserted. The lights were still on in the office and the door was unlocked, thank God. Nothing seemed out of place, and her purse and keys were where she left them.
She realized later that she was in shock, and that was one reason why she didn’t call the police. It was all she could do to lock up and head for her car.
Monsters were real, and they were out to get her.
Behind her, a pillar of water rose and solidified on the pier, taking the shape of a man. He studied her grimly, following silent as mist, an elemental on a mission.
She didn’t notice her stalker until she’d reached her car and fumbled the keys. Her hands were shaking and her frantic efforts weren’t helping. She started when she saw him and made a desperate sound of denial. No more, not tonight.
“What is your name?” the man demanded. He stopped a car length away, too close for comfort.
Alicia was too scared to look at him. She dropped the keys and snatched them, her nails dragging on the concrete. “Go away!” She rammed a key into the lock and it got stuck halfway; it was wrong one. Sparks flew as she ripped it out, stripping the key. She glanced frantically at the stranger and froze as he melted. Faster than she could blink, the water flowed between her and the car and solidified.
Alicia jumped back with a terrified cry. “What are you? Leave me alone!”
He made no move to touch her. “Tell me your name.”
“Alicia,” she spat, tucking the keys between her fingers in sharp spokes. If he tried to hurt her, he was going to get scratched. This close, she could see he had black hair and light colored eyes, though she couldn't tell exactly what color under the streetlight. He was a little over average height, but contained a leashed power that made her feel dwarfed.
“Alicia,” he said, testing her name. “There is danger in the sea. Stay away until you’re ready to come to me. I don’t have time to run back and forth babysitting you.”
She could hardly believe he was warning her. After everything she'd been through, the last thing she wanted was to return. “Newsflash,” she snapped. “You're standing in front of my car.”
“Don't come back until you’re ready to stay,” he said sternly. “I don’t have time to run after you.” He touched her door lock, opening the formerly locked door. He dissolved into mist.
Alicia dove into her car and instinctively hit the locks, though it was obvious it wouldn’t stop him. Her tires squealed as she peeled out of the lot, missing a concrete pylon by a hair’s breath. Was he the one who sent the women to drown her? What could be worse than that? What had she done to deserve it?
She woke the next morning in her apartment feeling parched. She’d combed her hair last night after a ritual cleansing shower and confined it in a tail, thinking blearily about dying it. It had been a rich, glossy blue-green, but this morning it was as dry and brittle as dried kelp. Her skin itched, and lotion didn’t help. An entire pot of coffee and glasses of water barely quenched her thirst.
She didn’t understand how she could be dehydrated, but maybe the dip in the sea had done more harm than she realized. As soon as she thought about it, she craved salt water.
Groaning, she sank into a kitchen chair and ran a hand through her dry hair. All morning she’d yearned for something, a craving she didn’t want to acknowledge. Those witches, or whatever they were, had done more than drown her. They’d changed her, and now she longed for the sea like an addict craved gin. She wanted to swill it, sw
im in it, and it hurt.
She paced. Her skin felt too tight, and her bones ached. The last thing she wanted was to go back to the scene of her attempted murder. She had Epsom salts; maybe that would be enough. Seizing the idea, she hurried to the bathroom and dumped half a bag in the tub.
It helped. It didn't feel quite right, the balance of salt and water seemed off; perhaps some kind of mineral was needed. Closing her eyes, she tried to think what to do. She didn't dare go to the doctor and be treated like a freak. Same with the police; they would think she was on crack. She wasn't possessed, so priests were out, and as far as she knew the X-Men were fictional. Maybe there were mermaids after all, but it's not like they were the Yellow Pages. She felt her body settle heavily on the fiberglass and opened her eyes with a frown. They widened as she realized her body had absorbed the salt water, leaving a bone dry tub. With that much water in her system her skin should have looked plump, even bloated, but it was only slightly less withered than when she got in.
She frantically turned on the tap and added the rest of the salt to the water, but she knew in her heart it wouldn’t be enough. She was going to have to return to the sea.
She stood on the rocky shore and stared longingly at the ocean. Her lips were cracked and her eyes red and sore. She could hardly stand her dehydrated body, but fear held her back. Was withering to dry bones worse than drowning? Could the monster do worse to her than that?
Movement caught her eye and she saw a man heading toward her. Her heart crawled up her throat as she edged away, only to see another man on her left. Her car was too far away and she didn't trust her body to get there in time, not in its current condition. Seeing no choice, she hurried over the rocks to the ocean.
The men changed course to follow her. They seemed confident of their ability to catch her, for they didn't hurry. Dark-haired, of medium height, they radiated menace. Strangely, their clothes were wet and ragged, and both were barefoot. They didn't seem like homeless men, but she wasn't going to stop and question them. Taking a deep breath, she ignored her thundering heart and ran into the surf.
