by D. K. Combs
“She can do a lot of things,” he said, the pride entering his voice again.
Mari took another bite, relishing every single juicy drop that she got. “I’m not going to get one, am I? I mean, since I’m not really a mermaid or whatever you guys are called.”
“Truthfully, I don’t know if you will or not.”
God damn, she hoped she didn’t. Or at least, if she did, the thing didn’t have slimy arms that made her feel like someone was rubbing crushed worms over her skin.
Ambrose continued, his voice deep, lilting. “We are called Atlanteans, but the myths of us are more partial to calling us ‘mermaids’.” She heard the disgust and raised a brow.
“But I’m guessing you don’t like that?”
“Not at all. It’s so...weak. Girly. Atlanteans,” he said, chest buffing with pride, “are strong and dominating. People used to shake with fear whenever someone said our name; Octopians were weary of attacking us, and kings of other species would tread with care.”
She stared at him, silent. His thick black hair was flowing around his face, strong jaw set, and eyes gleaming with the remanence of the past. Things were so much more different now, she thought, not knowing if she should tell him. Atlantis was a myth in her world, and very few people believed in mermaids or anything other than humans and animals.
Mari could only imagine what would happen if people knew that mermaids were real. What would her parents do? Accept her, reject her? If her own grown-up daughter came home one day and suddenly told Mari that she was infected with fish juice and had a tail every couple of hours, how would she react?
Her parents’ love was unconditional, always had been. But Mari wasn’t...Mari. She didn’t have a boyfriend, she didn’t have feet—so what did she have now?
“What is wrong?”
Mari snapped back to reality, looking at Ambrose to find him staring at her with concern.
“Uh...nothing is wrong. Just thinking.”
“Of?”
“A fish of few words,” she muttered, before sighing. “What would I do if I wanted to go back to the surface? To teach still. I can’t just disappear,” she said. As they glided above the floor of the ocean, she swore she had seen that exact same bunch of coral before, with the exact same group of clown-fish...but then, everything looked the same.
It was beautiful, entrancing, but it all looked the same. Her eyes weren’t blurry like they had been when she’d been a “mortal,” as Ambrose called it. She could see with even better clarity than before, and every single inch of reef they’d covered had looked so much alike that every other yards she saw a repeat of what she had seen only minutes before.
She and Ambrose didn’t stop their pace just to talk. No, every time she wanted to take a second to breathe—suck down water, whatever—her hunk of merman would force her to keep going. They were in the open and he wanted them out of it.
“Mari,” he said slowly, making a turn like he had some sort of internal navigation. “You can’t go to the surface again...”
“Why, because of my tail?” she asked.
“What do you think would happen to you if your tail grew in front of the humans?” His eyes were hard and his jaw was clenched. Obviously this was not something he wanted to discuss.
“See, there’s the thing. I wouldn’t have to worry about turning into a fish because I would live right by the ocean. There are plenty of beach houses that are only yards away from the ocean. It wouldn’t be a problem,” she said hopefully, her tail starting to vibrate like it had earlier before she shot forward.
She grasped Ambrose’s arm to keep herself attached. His muscle jumped under her palm but she ignored it, holding tighter to him.
“It’s perfect. I can tutor right from the beach and still be safe there. Plus, you could stay with me!”
For the first time in what seemed like hours, Ambrose stopped them. Abruptly. Hard.
“Don’t talk like that, Mari,” he growled. His eyes flashed with a dangerous emotion that she couldn’t explain—didn’t want to explain.
Her head shook. “No, you don’t talk like that! There isn’t any reason why I can’t go back to the surface and carry on with my life. And it would be even better for you, because you’ll be by the water and you’ll have a start at something!”
This could be an amazing start for him—them. She could forget about the fish problem when she was teaching, and he could do whatever he wanted. He could start a life, meet people, get friends. She grinned at him, barely noticing her tail as it vibrated enough to shake her.
“Ambrose, this is perfect for you—”
“Mari. I said don’t. I can’t live on the surface and neither can you, so drop the subject. I’ll find somewhere for us to stay, away from Ceto. When you get used to your tail and know the rules of the sea, I’ll let you go on your own. Until then, keep this impossible thought of living on the land out of your mind.” His snarl was so violent, so loud, that the force had her flinching.
“I...”
He slashed a hand through the water, silencing her. “No. I won’t have it. Keep yourself quiet until we reach F-Inn.”
Ambrose turned around sharply, leaving her to tread there in silence. Ambrose had yelled at her? For wanting to give him a chance at a future? Her lips pressed tightly. Oh yeah. They were going to have to do something about that. Mari wasn’t going to be taking shit from any man—and that included men with tails.
But no matter how angry she was with him, or how much she wanted to rip his spine out through his tail and watch him float like a limp piece of seaweed to the ocean floor, Mari couldn’t get the image of how ungodly beautiful he had been when he’d rounded on her. She hadn’t felt fear, or thought for even a second he would hurt her. Ambrose was not that kind of man, no matter how little she knew him. He had risked his ass to save them, and that was all there was to it—he wouldn’t go back on that by physically hurting her.
The image of his eyes, ocean blue with streaks that looked like lightning flashing through them, was imprinted in her mind. Thick lashes, as black as night, surrounding the depths that burned into her... Damn, but the image made the water around her feel like it was heating up.
She pushed her hair behind her ear, swallowing. Her mother had once said, "If you get tingly when he's mad, tie him to your bed and don't let him go. I did the same to your father, and he's the man of my dreams..."
And staring at Ambrose as he stalked away from her, the akrina buzzing after him, a little voice in the back of her mind told her that her mama was definitely a wise woman.
“There are hotels underwater?” Mari asked, eyes widening as Ambrose forcibly dragged her behind him. She’d begun digging in her fins the second he’d told her to stay quiet and don’t look anyone in the eye.
That was warning enough for her to know that they shouldn’t even be going there.
“We are much like you, if not more advanced,” he said. Ambrose tugged on her arm gently, trying to coax her into moving on her own.
“All the more reason to leave! Don’t make me go in there—things have a tendency to break around me, haven’t you noticed?” Her voice rose to a higher pitch and she couldn’t stop it. She felt the blood drain from her face when a garbled shout came through the rickety door.
“It won’t break, Mari. All of our buildings are reinforced by the sea. Not even an Octopian could bring down this place.”
“Oh, well that’s reassuring,” she muttered, pulling against his hand. The akrina flittered in front of them and she felt the beginning of another hand, a wet one, wrap around her other arm. “Don’t touch me,” she growled.
Ambrose nodded and the sensation left her. “Let’s make a deal,” he said.
“A deal?” She didn’t bother to hide her cynicism. Another shout and then the sound of something thumping was heard and she felt lightheaded. Fights. Bar fights. This was like some underwater version of a rowdy western bar.
The door, from where she was, looked like it wo
uld fall apart any second. It was a dark brown, the edges rounded and with moss crawling over every inch. A small bundle was raised near the bottom and the closer she looked, she saw a line of little slug things crawling out of it.
Oh god.
Her diaphragm did a dance and she almost threw up the peach and mango she’d eaten earlier. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor a couple hundred miles away from this place,” she said, desperation tinging her voice.
Ambrose looked at her with sympathy, shaking his head. “No, we stay here.”
“Those….people. Things. There are things in there that will shred me to bits!”
He frowned at her. “We aren’t dealing with Octopians so your fear is invalid.”
Mari gaped at him. “It doesn’t matter if we are or aren’t! Do you hear the crashing coming from inside there?” Another thump came from inside there, right as the door began to rattle against the moss-covered stone building again.
The place was twice as big as her own house, with two stories and several busted out windows that only had a plank of wood as a sort of guard for privacy. Just like the door, gently flowing moss clung to the side of the building, weird rocky formations also managing to grow and stick to it. Several colonies of fish surrounded the stone building, like an evil sushi fortress barrier.
She swore some of the fish shot her the stink-eye. That only strengthened her resolve to not go into the rough-house place.
Ambrose stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, brows low and face lined with confusion. “I don’t understand why you cannot just do as I say,” he said, contrite.
Mari gaped at him. “I think anyone would have a problem going into a building that houses a constant bar-fight!” Something smashed from the inside and she winced. “You can’t seriously want me to go in there with you.”
“I seriously do,” he said, shaking his head as if clearing any other thought. The confusion drained out of his face, replaced by a disconcerting stern nature that had her backing away from him slowly.
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Yes.”
“No, Ambrose.”
He closed in on her, no matter how strong she kept her voice and no matter how far she backed away. “Sit. Stay. Roll-the-hell-over—“
His hand grabbed her arm with a gentle but firm grip. “Mari, it is not so bad. You’ve survived the transformation, you escaped from a psychotic goddess, and you haven’t chopped me into Octopian Bits like I’m sure you’ve wanted to for the past hour.”
Ambrose smiled, making her stomach do weird things. She swallowed nervously. “Each journey starts with the first step...even if it’s in the wrong direction at least your feet are moving and your brain is thinking. So far, you’ve done an amazing job of holding yourself together. I’m more than positive that you can do this small thing.”
Mari stared at him, then after a moment sighed. “Fine… But only because I’m tired. We do get to sleep here, right? Actually—do we even sleep at all?” If she couldn’t sleep anymore, they’d have a problem. A big, grouchy problem named Mari.
“We still sleep. As a newly-turned Atlantean, it’s actually imperative that you rest. I am so sorry that I had to drag you along without a second of recovery time,” he said, his voice lowering with his remorse, managing to wash over with a dark rush.
At just the small thought of being able to lay her head down and let her legs—tail—take a rest, the fight left her and her shoulders dropped. Yeah, there was only thing she wanted right now.
“Just…sleep. I want to sleep.” There. That sounded comprehensible enough.
Mari let Ambrose lead her to the sodden-looking door and made sure not to look at the demon-spawn fish.
“I’m not sure how this is going to go, but I can’t let you out of my sight…if anything happens, I want you to swim as far away from this place as you can,” Ambrose murmured against her temple, before pulling open the door.
They only got an inch in before the door slammed shut behind them and several eyes snapped to look at who had entered.
Instantly, everything stopped.
Every.
Single.
Thing.
Mari backed into Ambrose, barely stilling her gasp. About twenty or so men were standing around a table, playing some sort of game that had a small diamond involved.
It wasn’t the diamond that had her gasping, though.
Each man was a rougher, scarier version of Ambrose. They all had ink up their arms, they all had scars on their faces and bare chests, and they were all staring at them as if a ghost had walked in.
But of course, that changed within a second. Her heart thundered in her chest at the look of pure hate in their eyes...or was that death? It looked like death. Really painful death.
“Ambrose?” she whispered, hiding behind him.
“Don’t say anything.” His voice was barely audible to her.
The water shifted around them and her head snapped behind her. A hulking man with a fin—was that a shark fin?—sticking out of his back was shutting the door completely…blocking them from leaving.
Oh great. Just freaking great.
Mari was more than positive that they were going to die.
The big, bad, ugly guys were going to kill Ambrose and then tear her apart and she would never be able to strangle Ray with her bare hands
“Is this who I think it is?” one of the men growled. He had one eye and a scar that dragged down the side of his face. Almost all of the left side of his body was tattooed. His tail was black as night, completely opposite of hers and Ambrose’s.
“It can’t be,” another one muttered. She couldn’t see who had spoken, but as she looked around the room, she took a small moment to take in their surroundings. Just like the outside of the building, moss was gathering in the far corners of the room. The lighting—however the hell they managed to get it was beyond her—was dim and the room had a hazy look to it, like there was a smoker in the group. Except, smoking wasn’t possible underwater and to bring electricity into the equation…Her head hurt from trying to work it out.
Several feet away from them was the group of men, soggy wooden tables lined the wall with rusted steel chairs circling them. To the left of the main entrance was the traditional bar set-up. A high-top wrap-around counter with a lonely, thin bartender was there, several clear bottles of…something…in them sitting in front of him. Her face twisted with disgust as she struggled to identify whatever was in them. Some had green goo, others had black goo, and others had brown goo. Mari tore her eyes away from the nasty bottles and looked at the men again.
“He looks a little older…more ugly than before.”
Mari was so close to Ambrose that she could feel every reaction he had. So when his shoulders bunched up, tensing like an arrow ready to fly, she grabbed his fisted hand and tried to soothe him into calming down—until she realized what the ugly asshole—tailhole?—had said.
She frowned. “You aren’t ugly,” she whispered fiercely, poking his elbow. “Don’t listen to them.”
“I’m not,” he replied back softly. She tried to peer around his shoulder to get a look at his face, but he faced forward, not breaking his concentration.
“Are you sure—“
“Oh, and look at what we have here.” The same man who was missing an eye leered over her protector’s shoulder.
Mari tensed, her hand instantly wrapping around Ambrose’s arm, taking comfort in the bulging muscle that flexed under her palm. Hunky fish men weren’t such a bad thing, she told herself. Except if one was faced with twenty of them.
Now, that was a problem. Her heart rate kicked up another notch as the silence stretched on. Ambrose didn’t move from his spot in front of her, even though the eyeless man had made it clear that he wanted all the attention on her—she was hiding like a scared tuna from a fishing net behind Ambrose.
“A woman?” a foreign voice asked, sounding a little dumb. When he spoke, the vowels droo
ped, like he could barely talk. She peeked through Ambrose’s elbow, seeing who had spoken, and the whole scene in front of her.
Instantly, her heart tried to climb its way up her throat. Okay. So this really wasn’t good.
All of the mermen that she could see had out some sort of weapon. From a small dagger, to a full-blown spear, to some sort of arrow thing… and every single one was pointed at them.
“Ambrose,” she whispered, pressing flush against his back as the guy behind her moved in a little closer, enough that his tail brushed against her elbow. “I don’t want to die yet…”
“Will you look at that! She speaks!” The room burst into laughter—it sent a chill down her back. “So the Exiled One brings us a boon for staying here, is that it? A dumb little chit who foolishly followed you and has enough brain to form words.”
Luckily, the attention was focused on Ambrose. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was only getting angrier—his back was as rigid as a rock and the arm under her hand was unmoving.
“I have brought you something, but not the woman.” His voice was as steady as she’d ever heard it before, with a hint of something more, something…dangerous. She closed her eyes, wishing that they could be anywhere other than there. In a warm bed, with popcorn and a movie, grading papers and laughing at the students who had obviously cheated their way through the homework and tests… That was where she wanted to be.
Instead, she was there, in some sort of run down fish hotel. About to die. Lovely.
“Well now, that’s just too bad,” one of the men sneered, slinking his way up to Ambrose, daring to get close enough to peer behind him, at Mari.
Her stomach heaved. He was missing half an arm, the skin stretching over the broken off bone like thin paper. The guy was twice the size of Ambrose, and that was saying something.
“We won’t accept nuthin’ but the girl,” he said, a perverted gleam entering his eyes as they trailed over her scale-covered breasts and hips, then finally her tail—right before it left just as quickly. His face drained of color and he stumbled away from them.
