by Lani Lenore
She channeled everything she had ever felt, holding onto a thread of hope that this would not go how she feared. She thought of the slave she’d been forced to sentence years ago, and she believed that if the same thing were to happen to her, she might have earned it.
“Is that so?” the Mistress asked.
“You give me purpose. You are all I think about,” she lied. She had watched Nathan lie, and sometimes yes, it needed to be done.
The Mistress rose from her throne, swimming closer. The girl tried to keep her gaze on the one she was so devoted to.
“Do you really mean that?” the Mistress purred.
The girl nodded emphatically. “Of course I do.”
The Mistress approached, putting her hands on Innominata’s smooth shoulders. She moved in, setting her mouth against the golden one’s cheek, and the girl feared that there would soon be a punishing hole ripped in the side of her face.
“Don’t cross me with your lies,” the Mistress hissed against her ear. “I am not so easily swayed.”
Innominata feared her failure, wondering what she should say next, or if anything at all. Her worried breath was loud through her gills. She could hear it herself.
“But the truth is that I do think about you, often,” the Mistress said, drawing back. “Do you know I’ve decided that you might be my own? Maybe I birthed you myself. Maybe that’s why your blood sustains me so. I couldn’t stand to lose you.”
The whisper was as harsh as it was seductive, and then the Mistress swam away.
“But there are limits to my kindness. Do not press them.”
Innominata could hardly catch her breath for praise. “Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”
“Take her back,” the Mistress ordered, going to her throne. “Make sure she is locked in this time.”
Chapter Eight
Once, a Dream
1
Knowing it was not smart to venture out, Innominata was willing to let a few days pass before she would seek Nathan again, but it was all she could do to keep herself in place. She needed to see him—was desperate for it—for she felt her longing for him was the only thing that kept her sane. She needed his life to be on the right path because hers was not, and perhaps would not be in her lifetime. She needed him to find happiness. She simply had to know it was possible.
“I see what jou’ve been doing.” The voice was a nagging pull in the golden one’s head as she rested in her cell, discouraged for now, but far from defeated.
“There is a void in me,” the girl claimed, not bothering to keep her voice quiet. “He fills it.”
“Don’t feed me dat rubbish,” Bliss scolded. “Jou know what is important. Jou should be trying to get closer to de Mistress rather dan slipping away.”
Innominata did not want to hear her complaints. She believed she knew what she needed.
“You have power,” she sent. “I want you to give me legs so I can go to him.”
It was daring, she knew. She did not know if Bliss had that kind of power, but she chose to believe it. Being on land was a separate matter. There were new dangers there, but she was willing to risk everything to escape his life—to be with him.
“No.” Bliss was quick to respond, shutting down her dreams.
“I want to be with him and nothing else.”
“Don’t lie to jourself.”
“I will never give up,” Innominata insisted. “I will never stop until I can be with him.”
“Just who are jou rebelling against?” Bliss asked. “De Mistress? Or me?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” the girl sighed forlornly. Her body might have been drained, but her heart was sick.
“I still need jou. Stay where jou are.”
Innominata felt her emotions shredding, and in the midst of that, anger and desperation surfaced.
“Bliss,” she tried in a despairing attempt, “I can’t bear the thought that he will never know I exist. I need to go to him. I belong with him. He’s the only thing that matters to me.”
Bliss was silent a moment and Innominata grew hopeful. Then, a dark whisper.
“I can’t let jou go.”
“But you could—”
“No. Dat is final.”
The girl sighed, relenting. It was a foolish desire, after all—one that could never come to pass. She rested her head back, uncaring. Then Bliss’s voice came again, this time a bit softer.
“Well, perhaps dere is someting I can do,” she said, and Innominata came to attention. “I can let jou be wit him for one night—in a dream. I can let jou both share de same dream and jou can have what jou want, but I warn jou: it is only a dream. He may never remember jou.”
A dream? Those were fleeting, the girl knew, but yet the entire idea that they might be together was a mere dream itself.
“And in exchange, I stay where I belong?” she assumed.
“Jes. Until de end.”
Time was a large price to be given, but time was all she had. She had already given much of it to this cause, and her sentence was long. If she could have a moment of real happiness in exchange, she wanted it.
“You have a deal.”
“Leave it to me, den. Stay where jou are. I’ll deal wit dis.”
Deal with it? Was it so complicated? Innominata could not understand all that Bliss was able to do, and though she felt anxious of the price for her eternity, she tried not to think of the years to come, only the moments she would have with him.
She closed her eyes again, unsure of when the dream would come, but she felt she could sleep forever, waiting.
2
Though the deep sea nymphs—perfect and imperfect alike—worked to keep themselves unseen by humans, there had always been stray eyes who managed to catch them out of the water. Stories of their enchanting beauty and seductive nature had captured the imaginations of poets and artists, who depicted the romantic forms of nymphs with human lovers. They appeared as something erotic to the human eye, naked and unashamed, their wet skin slick and dripping.
The mermaids were often depicted with tails beginning below their gratuitous hips, embracing the human desire for a view of those curvaceous parts. It was not accurate, for their tails began as a smattering of scales on their torsos, and some even higher than that. But the fantasy which made one hot and languid with lust could never be squelched in the human mind. Many sailors fantasized about seeing them on the water—of course without ever knowing that they were truly wishing for death. The creatures in those paintings were based on reality, perhaps, and yet were mere figments of the human imagination, lending hope to the lonely sailors that they might still relish in the thought of a woman’s warm embrace while lost on the sea.
3
Dreams were odd things. It had been a long time since she’d had one of her own. Perhaps the joy of a dream was something her kind could no longer afford, but being with Nathan was the only thing that made sense anymore.
When the Innominata became aware of herself, she was on a beach, the tide rushing over her fins. She was looking out at the waves, but when she looked to seek the rest of her fantasy—him.
Nathan was there, watching the waves. He seemed unaware of her, lost in his own thoughts, wearing a loose-fitting white shirt—dingy. The wind blew through it and she could see a flash of his firm chest. He wore trousers, but no shoes, his feet in the retreating water. She did not have clothes herself, but she was not ashamed to be before him. Her hair was enough of a blanket to cover her up if he was embarrassed by it. She wondered if he would like it, in fact. It always seemed to work on the sailors, so much that they crashed their ships and went to their deaths for the bodies of women.
They sat quietly for a long time, side by side. Nathan almost seemed blank for a while, watching the water, and she wondered if he was really there with her. Were they sharing this dream as Bliss had promised, or was it just another illusion?
“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” she said finally, breaking the silence between
them.
He looked at her skeptically with his dark eyes. Even in this dream, he was cynical. “I don’t think I believe in mermaids.”
“I know you’ve never seen me,” she relented, “but I’ve known about you for a while. I just wanted you to know about me too, Nathan.”
He seemed more aware at the sound of his name. He was just as perfect as the image she kept in her head. Perhaps that was all he was.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I don’t know everything about you, but I want to.”
“There’s not much to say,” he returned. Vague; maybe ashamed. “I’m a man trying to find his way.”
“And what way is that?” she asked.
“My own way,” he answered.
They looked at each other for a while, as the waves rushed upon the shore. She watched his hard expression and wondered why he would look at her like this. Was this the truth inside? He was often carefree, but there was darkness in his heart.
“You’ve changed,” she told him, realizing it. “You’ve changed yourself.”
“From what?” he scoffed. “I never made my own choices until I was by myself, so if that’s the change you mean, then I guess I have. I had to.”
He looked away from her then, back to the retreating waves.
“Did you want to tell me something?” he asked, speaking up again. “Is this some divine intervention?”
“Divine…what?”
“For my sins,” he admitted, looking in her eyes. “Sending some beautiful image to me in a dream in order to make me confess. To come clean to myself and admit what I am.”
Beautiful? He’d said she was. That filled her with joy.
“What do you think you are?” she asked him.
“A monster.”
“You’re not a monster,” she said quickly, touching the side of his face. She could not decide whether or not she felt him. “I have seen monsters, and you are not like them.”
“So if you’re not here to make me confess, then what do you want?”
There were many things that wanted to burst from her chest, and she supposed that if she ever wanted to say those things to him, now was the time.
“I only wanted to be near you, just once,” she said, keeping her hand against his face, wondering if her fingers were numb at the touch of his skin. “I wanted you to know I was here. To tell you that I see the good in you, even if you don’t. Even if you doubt that it’s there: it is.”
She was surprised to see that tears were gathering in his eyes, and soon he could not look at her anymore.
“I just don’t want to feel anything,” he said, quieter, looking back to the horizon.
“Why?” she asked. That was the opposite of what she wanted. She had waited her entire life to feel something.
“Emotion is torture,” he told her. “I don’t want to think about others. I have to live for myself.”
“You’re stronger than that,” she said. “I’ve seen it in you. You always help others—”
“And what has that gotten me?” he asked, cutting her off. “I’m stranded here, with—”
He stopped. They gazed at each other for a while—she, ready to cling to his every word, and he, simply trying to figure her out.
“I wish I could comfort you,” she said finally. “I wish we could be together. If only you knew. If only you felt what I—”
Before she had finished, he had kissed her, his shoulder pressing into hers. The touch of his mouth was almost real. She tried to remember every movement, every taste, but there was nothing to be grasped more than the action itself.
He leaned back and looked at her, aware as she was, perhaps, that this was all a dream. Lucid, but false.
“Are you real?” he asked, looking at her as he questioned. “This feels…”
He did not resist when she put her fingers in his hair at the back of his neck and guided his lips toward hers again. He put his arms around her and kissed her deeply, and she felt happiness like she’d never felt.
They laid there for a while together on the gritless sand, kissing, touching, his hands leaving trails of sensation against her skin that were little more than a fancy. She had thought about him so long and often that she knew what her desire was. She was in love with him, wanted him, and if he would just have her in return…
The dream had shifted. She realized then that she no longer had the tail of a fish, but human legs below her waist—as if his kiss had transformed her. She thought it was strange, but he did not even seem to notice the change. He was already looking in her eyes like she had always wished he would, engrossed only in her.
“Do you have to go?” he asked, pressing his forehead against hers.
She gripped the sleeve of his shirt in her fist. “Not now,” she said.
“I think I might like to stay here with you,” he breathed, closing his eyes a moment. She dared not close hers, for fear she would lose him, but his words made her heart soar.
She touched his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breath, his heart. He stared at her, seeming confused for a moment, but he was not too far baffled. He sensed her want. He knew what to do. Nathan put his hands on her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt the warmth spreading through her body as the fire of her lust was kindled.
“Do you want this?” he asked, his breath almost real.
“Yes,” she returned, trying to keep her eyes open, unwilling to let go.
He leaned her against the sand. Her hands found his back, tracing muscle, his body a rock between them. He parted her legs and pressed against her, and she knew that she wanted this—and him—more than a breath. More than life.
They became the lovers on the beach that she had watched with Bliss, the sighs, the ecstasy. She could not stop thinking of how deep he was inside of her—how they were one. Her heart was hammering so harshly that she thought she might die from it.
She tried to feel the sensation, the movement, but it was far away. It was little more than a stirring of arousal, and she wondered how she might remember it if it was not real. She wanted to cry, thinking about it. He was a ghost on top of her. Even so, she could not stop looking at his face, never wanting this to end. But as with all things, it did. She did not feel a thing.
For the last few moments that they remained in the dream, she was able to lay beside him. He looked back at her, and she couldn’t help feeling that he was completely aware of what had happened between them—what was still happening with their eyes and hearts.
“Who are you?” he asked, only afterward.
She smiled sadly at him, running fingers through his hair.
“Someone you will never know. But I hope you will not forget me.”
He didn’t say anything to that, puzzled. She kissed his mouth once more, closing her eyes, and when she opened them, he was gone. She was awake. Immediately, she wanted him back, but she accepted what had been. It had been brief, and it was over, but she would never forget.
Chapter Nine
Purge of Pleasure
1
Innominata did as Bliss wanted. She was obedient for the longest time in a while, and did not stray. She held onto the memory of the dream she’d been given, even as it faded more and more as days passed. She stayed at the Mistress’s side, offered up blood without complaint, and gave herself up to being a slave. But in her mind was still the fantasy.
Those moments with him—to have him be aware of her—were now the only hints of freedom she had left. Her time was not her own. The world around her remained the same, the Mistress as greedy as ever.
And in the midst of it one day, finally, she heard Bliss’s voice in her head.
“Someting is going to happen. No matter what, stay where dey put jou. Keep out of de way and dey won’t be able to blame jou.”
“What’s going to happen?” Innominata asked, snapping to attention and out of her numb existence. “What are you going to do?”
“Knowing dat might endang
er jou. Just do as I say.”
That wasn’t good enough. All this time given and she would have no part?
“You wanted my help,” she insisted. “Let me help.”
“No’ting will suit jou but to make trouble for jourself, hm? Dat is always de way.”
“It is always your way to keep me in the dark,” the girl accused. “At least let me know what all this time has bought me.”
Bliss was quiet, and Innominata feared that she had gone away. She had demanded too much, and Bliss had found it easier just to ignore the girl. That seemed accurate.
When she heard Bliss’s voice again, she was surprised.
“If jou want to help, we need to meet. I’ll come to jou.”
“Can I trust that?” she asked, and there was another long pause between them. She would not forget that way it struck her.
“Jes,” Bliss said finally. “Always trust me.”
2
Innominata was in her cell when Bliss came to her. It was the first time they had been face to face in thirteen years, but neither looked as though a day had passed. Life, however, seemed to have worn the golden one down much more than Bliss.
“I’m here, like I promised,” Bliss said, materializing in her cell as she had once been so keen to do. Bliss herself looked almost like a monster, the way the dark outline of her hair moved about, coupled with her silver eyes made her look like a giant squid, set to ensnare. The girl was not moved.
“Tell me,” Innominata insisted, refusing to waste time.
“I am going away,” Bliss said emotionlessly, and the girl’s eyes widened with shock.
“You cannot leave,” she protested. “You cannot go and leave me here!”
She was emotionally stirred, but the other was calm as the peaceful waters, without sentiments of friendship or loyalty—as she had always said.
“I’m going to do someting before I go, and I don’t want jou to be involved,” Bliss said, her tone quite reasonable. Generous. It was not good enough for Innominata.
“I want to know.”
Bliss sighed as if this was all a burden, but she must have known by now that the girl would demand the truth.
