Murray can’t help but laugh at all the female Mer staring at Victor. New, fresh flesh. A male. She can hear their starved growls.
‘What you got there then, Muz?’ one shouts.
‘Leave off, Verella. Look, he’s wearing Sienna’s tooth pin.’ Her eyes glint. ‘He’s untouchable!’
‘So is she. Look! That’s new. Oooooo! Murray’s wearing Sienna’s pin too! Oh, you fancy now?’
‘Oh, stop being a bunch of little squids!’ another spits back. ‘Poor thing has lost her mate, so let her do her job.’
‘Thanks, Chelsea.’ Murray winks.
Victor quite likes the attention. These females are creatures. He will not be forgetting them anytime soon.
A few little Merbies dot about. Chasing and playing and splashing. Young Mer are rare. They tend not to be salvaged because they remain the age of their salvation and often the hardship of the water is too much for small souls. Besides, the scent of a new child is not always potent enough to call a Mer to salvage, their traits not developed entirely, but occasionally the odd child can be saved. Like these three here. They go to Murray when they see her, holding her tapestry, branching their hands into her fingers. They have questions. Rumours have travelled.
‘Murray, Murray, my mother told me you’ve been to the palace. Have you been to the palace?’
‘No, no, only the gates, like you.’ Murray smiles, ushering them along. ‘Nothing special.’
‘Oh.’ One looks disappointed. ‘But wait, what about the tower? Have you been to the Sabre Tower?’
‘Yes, yes, the tower – did you go there? Are there dragons and monsters and Sienna with the fangy teeth and the claws? Is she a witch?’ another adds, eyes alight, but Murray is quick to blow out their infant flames.
‘Can we do questions later? We have work to do.’
‘Did you say the Sabre Tower? I live in the Sabre Tower!’ Victor grins, ignoring Murray’s suggestion of questions later. He says the words Sabre and Tower as dramatically as he possibly can. Murray throws him a look.
‘OH WOW!’ they say. ‘You LIVE there? What’s it like?’
‘Well …’ Victor crouches to their level, spanning his arms as theatrically as he can. ‘The walls are made of the darkest, rarest stone, with ceilings of pyrite so it twinkles, even in the dead of night. The corridors are winding and dark and you have to be very, very, very brave to go down them.’
The Merbies squeal hysterically. ‘What about the monsters? Will they eat you all up if you’re bad like Aurabel?’
Murray drifts ahead, a lump in her throat. ‘That’s enough.’ She floats away from the group. ‘Come on, Victor. We have work to do.’
Victor feels guilt swim up inside of him. He winks at the little Merbies. ‘No, of course not. And besides, these monsters didn’t eat Aurabel. The monsters at Sabre Tower don’t eat anybody – they are our friends. They would never eat you guys.’
‘Even the big one?’
‘Even the big one. Nevermind cannot escape, anyway. Even if she wanted to eat you up she couldn’t!’
‘Phew,’ one sighs.
‘Unless …’ Victor says in a very deep voice. ‘Sometimes I like to gobble up Merbies … especially if they laugh when they are tickled!’ Victor tickles the Merbies frantically; they shriek and laugh in joy. ‘I’ll see you soon – I’ve got lots of boring work to do.’
The Merbies all exhale a disappointed sigh.
Victor catches up with Murray. ‘How cute are they?’
‘I see you’ve made friends already.’
‘That’s my job,’ Victor says. His tone sounds as though he’s defending himself but he can see Murray seems sad. ‘Don’t cry. You’re not crying, are you? I won’t be able to see a teardrop in the ocean in these current surroundings …’ Victor elbows Murray. ‘Cur-rent surroundings … Actually that’s two jokes in one there, kind of … I’ll just shut up.’ He laughs awkwardly. ‘But if you are going to cry, let it be over my bad jokes.’
Murray manages to let out a smile. Maybe this Victor is OK after all.
The meeting is being held in Tippi Hall. (A fallen aeroplane, I believe. I know these aeroplane things well. They avoid me like the plague but alas, some do end up in my belly.)
Inside, both Murray and Victor, with Sienna’s silver pinned proudly to their chests, speak to locals about the advantages of having Sienna in power. They have both been briefed by Sienna. ‘Play on my weaknesses,’ she advised. ‘Expose my flaws before they can.’
On and on they reassure the Tips that Sienna is ‘just like them’ but it is Victor who has the lines on point: ‘Yes, of course she was standoffish because she was isolated herself, never understood, never valued … a bit like the citizens of Tippi.’
They lap it up: ‘Yes, she does have a temper because she is passionate about the protection and survival of her species, but the decision lies in your hands – who would you rather runs the waters? A shrimp or a shark? I think I know who I would vote for come the election.’
Murray watches Victor with the Tips, so kind and natural. So charming and endearing – he empathises, he laughs when they do, he tells stories and enchants them with his quirks and obscurely slanted nature. He sells Sienna to the Mer of Tippi, not realising that none of them want to buy into Sienna – they want to buy into him.
With the Tips cheering after them, Murray and Victor leave the sunken plane with a smile. It has been a long but successful day.
‘Well, that was impressive.’ Murray beams. ‘You did well.’
‘Oh … I’m sorry … was that a compliment, Murray?’ Victor jokes sarcastically.
‘Don’t push it!’
‘So come on then, which one of these strange objects do you live in then?’
‘Me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You don’t want to see where I live.’
‘Let me be the judge of that,’ Victor pushes.
‘No, really, I don’t want to.’
‘That’s not fair. You know where I live. Come on.’
‘You live in a mansion palace in the Whirl, Victor. It’s hardly the same.’
‘Come on.’
‘I don’t want to. OK?’ Murray shouts and swims ahead.
‘You don’t have to – I’m sorry. I should never have asked,’ says Victor as he reaches her. ‘I’m an idiot.’
Murray doesn’t want to make eye contact. Her heart is yearning, broken still. Eventually she looks up at him. ‘Come, I won’t show you my crate – it’s crap. But I’ll show you something else.’
Aurabel’s slam lies, as always, upturned. It is covered in some trinkets and treasures, tokens that the Tips have left for Aurabel in her memory. Murray jams the door open with the knack only she and Aurabel know and leads Victor inside.
‘Is this Aurabel’s?’
‘Was. Yeah.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Victor is in awe.
They shouldn’t really be in Aurabel’s slam. Tips will talk – they probably already are – but it is the closest she can get. Murray misses her terribly; she is riddled with the disease of loss. Still, nobody has said a word to her; they know what Murray and Aurabel meant to each other. And Murray loves moving about her space. Keeping the deathly shell of it warm. The idea of Aurabel’s slam becoming cold and vacant makes her want to die. So here she comes. Doing things as she would. Breathing the slam alive. Course, nobody has to know that she still sleeps on the back seat of the upturned car, or in the engine, curled up like a grey reel of cotton, clinging on in the desperate hope of not unravelling.
The photographs and images on the walls of things he has never seen fascinate him; Sienna never shows him stuff like this. ‘What are all these things?’
‘Walker things.’
‘Walker things?’
He knows nothing. This innocent soul.
‘I’m sorry I snapped at you.’ Murray apologises. ‘I just think Aurabel should be doing this. Not me. She was the political one. She was
into all this. You should have seen her. She was constantly asking questions, forever speaking for those who couldn’t. She was a force. You would have loved her.’
‘She sounds cool.’
‘She was. She was the coolest thing I ever knew.’
Murray holds her chest. Warms herself with the wrap of her own arms. Victor stands by her, not too close but close enough to feel her buzz; he wants to touch her but he knows he can’t. He knows she looks at him like a child. But he doesn’t feel a child. He feels that he knows more than they think.
‘You know what we’re doing here is making a difference,’ he says firmly, with kindness. ‘Sienna is going to be queen and it is down to us to spread her good word, her need for change. It’s up to us, Murray, for Aurabel. To get the law in order, to get some justice for Aurabel.’
Murray shakes with sadness. ‘I know, I know. I just miss her, that’s all. She was my … everything.’
Victor nods in understanding. He knows Murray loved Aurabel with more than affection. She loved Aurabel with a rage.
‘Use this anger, Murray. Use this anger to help Sienna win this election. Then we get to really punish the beasts who did this to your Aurabel. If anybody has your back, it’s Sienna.’
WALKERS
Lorali is still laughing. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t believe you thought nutcrackers were toenail cutters. How big do you think toes are?’
‘I dunno!’
‘You’ve seen pictures though?’
‘Yeah but I didn’t know, did I?’ I laugh too. ‘We don’t get nuts down here. Murray also thought that microwaves were TVs and that the images were played out from models inside.’
Lorali laughs again. ‘I did too! Actually, I still don’t know how TV works – it’s so weird up there. Though, Aurabel, nobody really knows – I bet you that most of them have no idea how the images get on the screen like that.’
‘It’s so futuristic.’
‘I know. They never ask questions. They believe what they are told.’
‘What do they watch on the TV?’
‘The news – like, what’s going on in the world – movies, TV shows, cartoons.’
‘What’s a cartoon?’
‘OK … erm … You know the illustrations in the petrified forest?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Imagine those but not so abstract. Like, to look like us … then some amazing technology makes them move. They become animated. They are fun because it’s playful. Kids love them.’
I love listening to Lorali’s Walker stories. We used to pick Opal’s brains like this but she never lived as a Walker like Lorali has. It’s so interesting. I reach for another packet of strawberry shoelaces, which I just find so funny. Shoelaces? Ha! What IS this stuff? Not only do these Walkers tie their shoelaces with this red stuff, they eat it too! At least I think so. They taste absolutely delicious.
‘They are much better when they aren’t stale. And wet.’
Lorali’s crazy – they are amazing; so sweet and chewy. I’d been avoiding the things like poison until I knew what they were.
‘Anyway … what else?’
‘OK. What else? OK, they watch this TV programme, yeah?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Where the show is basically just humans living inside a house. Live.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, that’s just it. That’s it. Humans watching other humans, being alive.’
‘Do they suffer?’
‘Not really, just exist.’
‘What?’ I crack up. ‘That sounds brilliant!’
‘I know! It is! Flynn hates it but I love it! It’s so interesting, watching them all living and breathing and fighting and laughing.’
‘I bet.’
I watch her look down at her tail. She looks at it with hate. Like she wishes she could chop it off and get the legs back. I look at my tail and how I owe everything to it.
‘What’s Flynn like?’
‘He’s great. So sweet. And kind. Gentle. He does absolutely everything for everybody. He’s smart. He watches all the nature programmes, and reads books. He’s a great cook. You’d love him, I know you would.’ She rubs her eye. ‘Since Iris got sick he’s become even kinder somehow – even more protective, even more understanding, more patient.’ She looks out into the land of machine. We are sitting at the top of the wheel, the sea level and calm. ‘He’s become like a brother to me. You know, when I lost Rory I thought my body would just give up and stop working. That I’d never know how to love again, maybe even like anybody again. Not just that I couldn’t go through the pain of losing again, but also that I wouldn’t know how to do it.’
‘I used to think that too,’ I say. I want to tell Lorali how grateful I am that I met her. How thankful I am that she imploded into my life the way she did. But I can’t find the words. Anyway, I don’t think I even have to; I think she already knows.
Lorali swims away and begins picking roots out of the ground to eat. If it wasn’t for Lorali, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now. I owe her so much. She ain’t how I expected. Dunno – thought she’d be more superficial, being royalty and that. And having the experience of being a Walker for all this time. Joke of it is, she thinks she’s so normal. But rah, no, wow – she’s a marvel. She is a lighthouse to me. Some big shining bright alive thing that keeps me going. And I bet you anything she thinks I am the one keeping her alive. Mad, innit?
JUMPING THE GUN
Sienna watches Victor’s mouth move as he says the words ‘they love you’. They love me, she thinks. They love me. They love me.
‘Oh, Victor, you’ve done so well.’ She reaches for the bottle of chilled walrus milk. ‘Shall we have one to celebrate?’
‘I think we better.’ Victor giggles as he tilts his glass at an angle. The sticky thick whiteness fills his glass as their eyes meet. ‘Queen,’ he adds.
‘I wonder if I’ll ever get used to that word.’ She sips the heady liquid cloud. It burns her throat and chases her nerves away, gives her the guts to inch a little closer to the young, handsome thing. His long arms and crowing neck. His dimples. His hands. Strong. Would it be wrong to –
‘Murray’s great, isn’t she?’ Victor fractures the moment with the splutter of Murray. Great, not HER again. That is all I need.
‘For a poor Tip,’ Sienna spits. ‘She has issues though. She has a screw loose.’
Victor doesn’t react. He doesn’t agree with Sienna but he knows better than to protest. Sienna likes hearing only her own thoughts. Anything else is a nuisance. And it is rare to get her in a good mood. Victor sniffs the milk before slurping; it tastes cold and creamy, rushing with the smack of tingles feeding up and down him in shoots.
‘Let’s talk about you.’ Sienna’s fangs glint. ‘My boy. My salvage.’
‘OK …’
‘You’re going to resolve on the same day as Kai.’
‘Who is Kai?’
‘The king’s boy.’
‘King for now, you mean,’ he says, knowing she likes this sort of joke.
‘Well – yes.’ She giggles. ‘Zar’s boy. They are hoping for it to be a joyful occasion – a celebration, a coming together.’
‘That’s fine.’ Victor looks into his glass. ‘I’ve never met Kai.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. Zar keeps him locked away in the palace. I mean, you can understand, after losing a daughter and all.’ Sienna gulps her drink, her neck swallowing, the white cream on her lips. ‘Are you happy? Do you want to be resolved?’ Her finger circles the rim of the glass.
‘Of course. It would be a great honour to be accepted. To be complete.’ Victor inches away in his seat; he can feel Sienna dwarfing him. He says the words she wants to hear. ‘To be yours. Officially.’
My ocean can almost hear Sienna’s voice crack. ‘You will never be mine.’ She looks at him. ‘When you are resolved you will be free. Liberated. Completely – to swim … to explore … to tessellate.’
Victor looks nervous. He’s heard this word knocking about in conversation but never learnt its true meaning.
‘Do you know what that word means, Victor? Tessellate?’ She spreads the word out long and strong like a back rub.
Victor shrugs. Shakes his head. He gulps his walrus milk. It goes straight to his head. Red chest. Red cheeks. Big pupils. Spilling. HOT. HOT. BLOOD. HOT. Sienna tops up his glass.
‘I’m sure you can imagine …’
‘I –’ Victor starts before Sienna pushes the glass of liquor up to Victor’s lips with her hand, holding the bottom of the glass with the scoop of her hand, like she is feeding a baby with a bottle. Whilst Victor drinks Sienna corners him again, thrusting her tight body into his.
‘It was just an idea, of course … but I’ve been thinking … I don’t want you to embarrass yourself when the time comes. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To get some experience before you meet somebody new …’
Victor feels the heat of Sienna arresting him. She takes a clawed hand and begins forking her fingers over his skull like a rake. ‘Soon I’ll be queen; I’ll be very busy. You can have anybody you want. You will be a prince.’
Victor, lost for words, looks down, drinking for something to do, but only getting lighter with each sip.
‘Don’t you want to learn?’ her split serpent tongue rattles.
And then Sienna leans forward, eyes closed, hands rough. She pounces on Victor, breathing deep. Her tongue weaselling down his throat. Her scales trying to lock into his, trying to fuse and merge them together. The moment so fast. And intense. But he can’t. He doesn’t want to.
‘I’m sorry.’ He wriggles out from beneath her snatching vice. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry,’ he pants, his hair a mess. And Sienna flushes violet. Immediately, collecting herself up, undoing every action she just did, reversing her feelings of attraction towards him and replacing them with venom.
Aurabel Page 14
