by Lani Lenore
But plenty were willing.
After years of disarray, it was the Mistress who had proven herself to be a resilient force. She had promised a return to greatness, and a way that the nymphs would no longer have to sully their bloodline with human seed. Her first order of business had been to take all the imperfects into slavery, to keep them powerless and isolated. If they were kept under control, there would be no worry that they would further dilute their race by reproducing.
This had been the golden one’s life.
After the audience with the Mistress, Innominata had been tossed into a cell beneath the towering fortress with two other imperfects. She did not know them. The slaves were shuffled around often to discourage friendships between them. True to that, Innominata had nothing to say in their direction. She leaned against the bars of her prison beneath the palace, saddened by the display she had seen. She could not stop thinking about what had been done to the imperfect, and in turn, about what that tortured nymph had done. Had it happened as the Mistress had explained it? If it had not been during a feeding, and she’d been caught with a human, was there truly anything wrong with it?
Innominata had never been to a feeding herself, and honestly hoped never to go. She wondered if she would be able to resist her own urge to stop what was happening before her—to humans who looked so much like herself—
She heard a disturbance in the water. Beyond, a light was floating toward her, signaling guards on patrol, and but thought little of it at first, the gentle sway almost hypnotic. It was not uncommon for guards to pass by the cells, though the slaves were often left unattended. She kept her face close to the bars, resting lazily, until the guards drew closer and eventually stopped in front of her door. Then she was startled enough to float away.
The door to her cell was opened, this one that she had been deposited into. She did not know what was happening this time, but if they summoned her, she would follow. She had no other choice but to do as they wanted, or else she would die quickly without trial.
The guards appraised her and her cellmates. Innominata watched with wide eyes, wondering, as behind the guards, a priestess emerged. Suddenly, she knew.
Please don’t choose me. Please don’t. There was a pounding in her head like drumming, but it was dread.
The priestesses of their mother sea were silent, always. Their faces were white masks without expression or movement—slits for eyes, no nose, mouth a smiling line. They wore streamers of seaweed over their veiny bodies, and instead of fish tails, they were gifted eight black tentacles to swim with, crawl with, feed with.
Innominata had never liked the look of them. They were worse than her nymph sisters.
The priestess drifted into the cell, closer to her, and Innominata did not breathe—as if that would aid her at all. She had wondered if the priestesses were blind, and she hoped to pretend she wasn’t there. Finally, the priestess turned, and with only a tiny motion of her head, the guards seized the other two nymphs, leaving the golden one alone.
She watched them depart. They did not protest—their will broken—and once again, she was locked away. The mermaid was not sure how she should feel about this, but in the moment, she was only glad that it hadn’t been her.
Because it was clear that the priestess had summoned them to the Pleasure Chamber.
It seemed to the girl that all her kind did revolved around their sexuality as females of a species. It was by their feminine wiles that they worshipped. Each kill, in manner and in deliberation, was seduction and deceit. And then there was the Pleasure Chamber, which had come only after the fall of their king. She had never been inside there, but she’d heard that there was a creature locked away in that dark space, which could bring about the perfect euphoria—better than any human might. The girl did not know anything about that either, but she was not curious about the chamber. She watched; she paid attention. She remembered that those who were sent to the chamber did not come back.
She had no power in her voice to call out or stop this. There was nothing to do but linger in the darkness by herself as the other two were taken away. She turned, aiming for rest—and saw a pair of silver eyes staring back at her.
The girl almost shrieked, but a hand clamped over her mouth swiftly, and a soothing whisper touched her ears. Before her was the dark nymph from earlier, the imperfect with the silver tail. How had she gotten inside? There had only been two others with her, and they had been taken away.
She said something to Innominata in a human language that she did not understand. The girl shook her head.
“Do jou understand me now?” the silver one asked. She had spoken English, and with the human tongue. That was a skill that only the imperfects had, even though they weren’t supposed to use it.
“Yes,” Innominata said readily, pleased to speak to someone else with this tongue, even if she had appeared so abruptly. Had the girl simply overlooked her? No, she did not think so. Something about this encounter was otherworldly.
“Jou seem upset,” the dark one commented, her tail dancing rhythmically in the water of the confined space. “Did I startle jou?”
“Among other things,” the golden nymph said lowly, keeping herself close to the wall, as if there was any escape.
“Surely jou can’t be surprised by what we saw today,” the dark one chided. “Don’ let it bother jou.”
If the girl could let go of the fact that this one had appeared inside her cell without announcement, then perhaps she might have gotten her mind off the cruel fate of one of her sisters. Neither was the case.
“How can it not?” Innominata asked, turning away. Already, she wanted this conversation to be over. She wished to wait quietly by herself and let the hours of her life slip away from her.
“It’s unfortunate. Would it make jou feel any better if I told jou dat our sister was trying to be like dem? Dat she would have killed dat human herself, but her teeth weren’t sharp enough?”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Maybe it’s true.”
“Was it you then?” the girl asked, casting this one a sharp eye. “Are you the one who told them what she had done?”
“I would never,” the silver-eyed nymph said through clenched teeth.
The girl leaned her head against her hand again. No, none of that had made her feel any better. She suspected that nothing ever would. Would she grow numb with time? That was doubtful. It had already been so long, and each blow was just like the last.
“How old are jou?” the dark one asked, and Innominata was obliged to lift her sea-green eyes once again.
“I’ve always been here,” she said instead.
“But jou speak wit de human tongue. How is dat?”
The girl’s eyes widened as she looked at the silver-eyed mermaid—this one so so slick and clever. She’d not been thinking and she’d allowed herself to be caught.
“Jou are a bit of an escape artist, aren’t jou? Been beyond de palace, seen de world?”
“It’s been a long time,” Innominata admitted. “It was easier before.”
“Do jou dare now?” The dark one reached out, gripped the latch on the door and snapped it off, simple as if she had the strength of a bull shark. With a resounding creak in the hollow prison, the door drifted open. Innominata feared the noise, but the water was silent after that. Had the guards gone? Was it safe?
“Come wit me.”
“But, we’re not supposed to…” The girl felt a fear of the unknown, but her protest was met with a sharp eye.
“No’ting in dis life is given. Jou have to make jour own way.”
The silver-eyed nymph swam free of the cage, slipping through the shadows to remain unseen. The Innominata watched her for a moment, wondering if she would fare any better if the guards came back and she was the only one in an open cell.
Thinking quickly, she slipped out and pushed the door back in place. With any luck, the guards would simply think the cell was left empty, if they passed by at al
l. She was able to feel fairly confident in that. Her captors were not always so smart.
She followed close behind the other, maneuvering with the length of her body in a practiced way. They slipped out from of palace grounds, slithering through the dark weeds like eels, and were eventually far enough away that they could ascend. An old thrill was rolling through Innominata. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to experience excitement or joy.
She swam nearer to the silver-tailed nymph, looking at her as they flipped their fins in perfect rhythm.
“What can I call you in this language?” she asked. “I don’t have a name myself…”
“Bliss,” the dark one said with a pronounced hiss. “Call me Bliss.”
Chapter Three
The Notion of Freedom
1
The deep sea nymphs were not the only species to remain hidden from the eyes of humans. Certainly, the ocean was a dark place full of mysteries that might never be uncovered by unknowing land-dweller eyes, but there were all manner of beings beneath the earth and in the heavens.
In the days of the world’s beginning, when the three brothers were set to rule as gods over the human plane, each had created a people for his own pleasure. They had vowed to keep these races apart from the world of men, but it was the Sea King who broke the promise when he came forward with his children and their cruel tricks on the sea. Enraged, the King of the Air sent down his own children—the winged sirens—to counter the sea nymphs in order to keep the balance.
To this day, they clash.
2
Above the waves, Innominata watched the sun rise for the first time in a long while.
The world was full of so much color here. From the pink and orange of the horizon to the blue of the water, the green of the trees on land, but there was so much more. Below, there was only darkness and gray. She could barely make out the vibrant colors of her fellow captives unless they were in the light, and that was not often.
Above the water, Bliss was more than a sharp glint in her vision. She was dark and smooth and lovely from her head to the end of her fin. Her neck was long, her cheekbones high, her lips full. Black hair was knotted in tendrils to her waist, concealing her body, but not completely. The Innominata did not blush to see the full length of Bliss’s form, however. She thought the other’s curves were lovely. Their human beauty was a secret trophy unto themselves, and even their captor’s recognized it on some ways.
They sat upon a rock that might have been a prime place for a hunt, but they had no such intentions. Innominata took a deep breath, wiping water droplets from her cheek, thinking it was good to fill her human lungs with air again. They had been collapsed for so long that she worried they would no longer function. But of course her captors cared nothing about her health. If she had gone belly up, they would not have batted an eye.
She had not always been so afraid of sneaking away. If she was caught, yes, there was punishment, but the nymphs had been in more disarray before. There was not always someone watching. Even still it was not that way, but she had felt a shift in the tide recently. They were more alert, as was proven by the punishment she had witnessed earlier.
“Are we safe here?” she asked the silver one, looking around in the sky for any sign of a threat.
“Safe enough,” Bliss said. “We can get back to de water quickly if we need to.”
“Do you sneak away often?” Innominata asked her. The breeze was nice. She actually felt a bit relaxed.
“It’s not always possible,” Bliss said. “I used to have more freedom. Like jou said, it’s more difficult now.”
This one seemed older than her—seemed to know more. The Innominata wondered why she had been brought here, if not just to get away, but she suspected it was more than that. She didn’t want to be abrupt, and there were other questions in her curious mind.
“So, Bliss, is it? Why did you choose that?”
“I didn’t chose it. It was given to me by a human.”
This struck the girl’s interest. She perked up immediately. “A human? You’ve been near one—spoken to one?”
“It was a while ago,” Bliss said as if to brush her off. “But it gave me someting else to tink of myself as.”
The Innominata thought it would be nice to have a name given by a human. It was a romantic notion, and one that she wondered if she might attain someday, but that was not a topic for conversation.
“Why did you bring me here? she asked. A seagull swooped overheard, crying out. She was startled, shielding her head, but this bird was nothing to fear. “Why did you break me out of the cell?”
“I thought perhaps dere was someting rebellious in jou, golden. I saw de way jou looked at me before we were taken to de throne. And den when jou asked me if I was de one who told our captors about our sister—I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“Dat we have someting in common.” Bliss’s eyes had changed, fierce and staring into hers like daggers. “Dat we would never betray our sisters for de sake of d’ose others. Dere is hatred in jou for dem, if only just a small bit.”
“Does it matter?” Innominata asked. “We are two small nymphs. What good will it do? We can’t change things.”
“Not tinking like dat,” Bliss scolded her.
This intrigued Innominata. She brushed back her tangled hair, drying beneath the sun.
“You have a way?”
“Not yet, but I will. I’ve been working on it for a long time. It will take much, but I am patient.”
Innominata wondered over this—wondered even what her next question should be. There was something very different about Bliss. She was not beaten down like the others. She was proud and snide in her airs—unrepentant. The girl would have loved to have that.
“I remember what it was like before captivity,” Bliss began, “before everyting we did had to do with survival. Dere was enjoyment in tings—freedom. Exploration, even discoveries about de humans. I have spent many days watching dem, learning from dem without having to come close if I did not choose. Life was more about being in our own environment and making it what we wanted for ourselves.”
Innominata knew little of this. She’d heard a few stories of better times, though her captors mostly spoke of days when the Sea King reigned, how humans had respect for the sea then and even sacrificed their own kind to the god. The Mistress wanted that again, she knew. The soverign wanted to bring back a king who would rule with the wickedness she had in her own heart.
“Dere could be joy in life again,” Bliss went on, “but de Mistress will not stop tinking about de humans. For her, it is all about dem—gaining power over dem, banishing dem from de waters. It does not have to be so. But she has to be removed. Dat is what I want.”
Innominata listened to her words. The ideas were spoken truth, but they seemed like fantasy. It was one thing to want something. The question was: how?
“And you believe this can happen?”
“It will,” Bliss assured her. “It’s a matter of time.”
The golden one wondered. She lowered her eyes, thinking deeply on these things. This one was so different, and if she meant to ask, she needed to do it now.
“How did you get into the cell with me? You weren’t there before.”
“I have ways,” Bliss said, seeming pleased with her observation. “I have powers beyond our kind—beyond what jou know.”
“Like what?” There was a childish ring to her question, but it was genuine. She was not, however, surprised by the patronizing reply.
Bliss smiled, straight bone-white teeth gleaming. “Let me worry about dat. I brought jou here so dat we could speak. I know jou can help me. I also know dat de Mistress has been calling for jou more often recently. She likes jou. Jou can help me, and jou don’t have to do a ting except agree.”
It was true. The golden one knew that the Mistress had taken a liking to her, but she couldn’t see how that mattered much. When she was in the Mistress’s presence, it was no
t as if she could take this other with her. And if Bliss was implying that she was close enough to harm the ruler in some way, that simply seemed impossible.
“What would I be agreeing to?” Innominata wanted to know.
“Just tink about what jou’re willing to do,” Bliss replied vaguely. “If it’s worth anyting to jou at all, we’ll talk again, but for now, we should return. Jou can let me know how much more jou need to see before jou make a choice.”
3
They were silent the entire way back. Innominata was stuck on the last words Bliss had said to her: let me know how much more you need to see. She had seen much already, far too much, had been through some of it herself. But could she put her trust in this one she had just met? What could they do to stand against any of it? Two imperfect nymphs against an army of warriors?
They returned to the cell, and it seemed as silent as they’d left it, but as Innominata was drifting before the door, she had another thought. She looked toward the throne room above, and all seemed quiet there. She could see no guards circling, and an idea came to her. It was a strong one—something she could do to help.
Before Bliss turned away, Innominata grabbed her wrist with a grip as tight as she could manage.
“Help me,” she said firmly.
The dark one had a look of confusion in her eyes. Was she lost? She would know soon enough.
“Help me, and maybe I’ll help you,” Innominata bargained. She was afraid of all this—of course she was—but she meant to be brave now. Once she believed that her eyes had sent the message for her, she began to swim upward. “Follow me.”
“Wait,” Bliss said, halting her, gripping her fin to stop her in the water.
Innominata awaited the reprimand that was sure to come. She had been too bold in her actions, and also in her belief that Bliss was willing to do anything at all. The silvery one swam up to meet her, putting hands on her shoulders, and closed her eyes to mutter a little prayer. Innominata did not know what was happening, but she allowed it, and soon she was cloaked with an illusion that made her disappear before her own eyes.
