Falling in Deep Collection Box Set

by Pauline Creeden

  Marissa inhaled her first breath from the bailout bottle, hard and deep, and held it as she jerked at the chains for escape. Holding a breath while diving was not the best idea. It led to more recovery breaths, wasting more air. But, with a limited capacity bottle, she had to take the risk. She needed more time.

  A lock fastened the chain tight around her ankles. She hooked her fingers into the links and yanked, but there was no way to slip the chain off. Still falling deeper, dread and panic twisted her insides and knocked her heartbeat loudly inside her ears. Fear overrode every bit of calm, crushing it like a tin can.

  Another breath.

  The anchor hit bottom. Her bare feet followed a moment later, colliding with its metal and the sand below, kicking up a cloud of sediment. She didn’t bother to look around. Her focus was only on the chain, but that didn’t keep her brain from wondering what was around her. The light from the surface was weak, dispersing through the water with only a faint glow. It was some reassurance that there were fewer predators around to smell the blood from the cut on her head. That light and reassurance would be gone soon enough, though. She wouldn’t last to see it go completely dark. She’d either be topside or dead.

  Exhale.

  Inhale.

  Pull.

  Her heartbeat pounded on, a clock counting down to her fate. It screamed for her the words she couldn’t speak. It screamed for the air she couldn’t freely take. Her head grew heavy, fogged. She glanced around. A curious grouper swam close by, watching her like he had a secret. She looked back down at her feet to avoid his stare, wondering if it all was a dream.

  Exhale. Inhale.

  Bubbles tickled her cheeks and she smiled around the regulator, feeling giddy, feeling euphoric. Feeling narced.

  The shelf’s depth and her fast descent had come with another problem: nitrogen narcosis. Raptures of the deep.

  She was narced.

  She felt woozy, drunk, as if she’d sucked down a bottle of laughing gas at the dentist’s office.

  Her father’s words replayed in her head so clearly she could almost picture him beside her. “Be mindful of narcosis. Anticipating the effects helps. If it’s bad and unmanageable, ascending will most certainly help. Sometimes all it takes is five feet.” Unfortunately, the latter wasn’t an option.

  How much time had she lost? Those few precious seconds, breaths …

  With a dazed head, she hooked the chain again. She realized what her mistake had cost her: everything. Her legs kicked her frustration, bucking in the water as panic took over, this time uncontrolled. It was no longer possible to hold her breath. She exhaled and inhaled erratically, unable to stop, lungs aching with an insatiable hunger.

  After a couple more breaths, she knew all hope was gone. There wasn’t enough air, there wasn’t enough time. It was over.

  She released the chains and her hands floated up to her sides, relaxed and easy. The need to struggle dissolved into the water, disappearing just as her father had years before. She hadn’t set foot in the ocean since then. The hiatus wasn’t because of fear; she’d just needed to stay away. Even when college ended, it was just easier. Then when her mom got sick and moved in with her, there was no longer a reason to return.

  Exhale. Inhale, harder.

  She closed her eyes, thinking about her parents. Would she see them again? Would there be some divine dimension where an essence of life remained after death? Her eyes stung with more tears as she let go. Her loss wouldn’t matter. Aside from a few acquaintances and colleagues at the museum, no one would miss her. She had no love without family, only work.

  She opened her eyes again, taking in the beauty of the ocean around her, ready to let go. Light glinted off a few passing fish and pressed dimly against the gulf’s sandy floor. She grinned a little. Sure the cause was horrendous, but she really couldn’t think of a better way to die. An underwater view was far better than one behind a steering wheel or from a hospital bed, Davey Jones’ locker was better than a freshwater grave, and being murdered was at least better than a Darwin Award. She giggled at her foggy thoughts and bubbles escaped her nose. She was grateful, no matter what.

  Exhale. Inhale. Half breath. Empty.

  Marissa pulled the mouthpiece from her lips and released the bottle in front of her, watching it drift away, free. Her eyes caught movement beyond its bright yellow color, a shadow swimming in the distance of the darkening water. It moved just outside of visibility, circling. Her first thought was shark. Maybe it had smelled her blood.

  She twisted her body, trying to keep it in view. It came a little closer and she noticed that the tail fin appeared to be horizontal, not vertical, looking more like a fluke than a fin. Was it mammalian? A lone dolphin? She might not find out, but she couldn’t get frustrated about that. It was time to let go.

  She opened her mouth and released some of her final breath, trying to ignore the growing ache in her chest by allowing the bubbles to tumble up her face like she’d done so many times as a child. Through the curtain of bubbles, she watched the shadow swim closer. The head and torso were human shaped, but the bottom half was … fish-like. Mermaid. She blinked, convinced the narcosis and lack of oxygen were to blame, but when she opened them again, he was right in front of her. Merman. There was no denying what she was seeing, even if it was a hallucination. Either way, her heart and hazy mind soared. This would be her last vision. Chin-length dark hair lifted and spread out around his pale face as his black eyes stared at her. His upper torso was muscular, with lines and grooves in his chest and abs like so many beach-loving guys she’d drooled over on dry land. At his waist, rows of green scales staggered all the way down into a wide tail. Their color was rich, camouflaging with the darkest of algae and seaweed. There was a translucence to them, though not nearly as shiny as she’d always imagined mermaids to be.

  Marissa smiled as thoughts of her father returned. Hallucination or not, she believed he’d seen something, he’d found something. She stared at the merman, watching his enormous pupils study her intently. No matter what, he was real enough to believe, and that thought was okay to die with.

  The merman reached out to her. His fingers grasped some of her long dark hair then moved closer to graze her jaw. The touch, feeling the reality of him, was startling, causing her to jerk backward. He wasn’t a hallucination. The remainder of her breath escaped with the movement. There was no time left. The researcher in her wanted to know more, wanted to question everything, but her time was up. This truth was one she’d never get to explore further, never get to share.

  She scrunched her brows together, wrestling with the pain that demanded her to breathe. The fight was gone quickly. She grinned at him then opened her mouth to inhale the salt water. Her chest heaved as the coldness flooded her lungs. It burned more than she recalled, amplifying as her body rejected the unwelcome intrusion. Her eyes widened and her body shook despite her effort to maintain control and acceptance.

  The merman cupped his hands around her jaw, holding her face steady while his own tipped away and contorted with a conflicted look. His eyes shot back up to hers as she gasped the water like a fish drowning in air. Time slowed, thick and dreamlike. Her heart followed suit, the panicked rhythm fading. Her vision tunneled, blackness curling up around her, death’s final approach. Still, she watched the merman, focused on his black eyes as he closed the distance between their faces and pushed his lips to hers. It shocked her, but she was too gone to fight. There was no energy left to move. With their eyes still locked, his lips shifted, gently coaxing hers wider.

  Water filtered back through her mouth, and slowly she felt air being pushed back in. It stung, like knives slicing through her lungs as they readjusted. She pulled away, coughing, releasing the air as quickly as it had entered. The merman grabbed her face again and again locked his lips to hers, giving her air, giving her breath. It was heavy, not exactly an oxygen mix, not carbon dioxide either. It was enough, though. Enough to give her life, enough to sustain. Even though her
head remained hazy, her vision cleared and her hope for survival returned. She grabbed hold of his shoulders, clutching him with greed, inhaling everything he was giving and wanting more. He broke away a couple of times, letting water pass through his own lips then returning to her to allow her her fill.

  After Marissa’s breaths evened out, steadying, the merman backed away, squinting both eyes as if he were considering something. He lifted his hands from her jaw and neck and held one up to show her his palm. If he was trying to communicate, she didn’t understand. His hand looked normal despite its paleness. She did notice a scar though, a cut running through the heel at his thumb all the way up his arm. Her eyes drifted, following the line, noticing more scars, more lines covering his body. His hand moved closer, stealing her attention, and he laid it across her forehead.

  She watched his eyes close for a moment. When they opened again, they bore into her with an intensity too stern to ignore, yet too enticing to fear.

  Go, a man’s voice said, coarse and deep, inside her mind.

  She jerked her head away from his hand and a burst of air escaped her clamped lips. He grabbed her easily again, resituating his hand.

  Be back. It was his voice. In her head. Her mind was still foggy, narced. Thoughts blended and images continued to blur.

  He dropped his hand before she could process what was happening and locked his lips to hers once more, giving her a new breath. His body spun away just as quickly, swirling a current around her and leaving her lost.

  No, don’t go, she thought, thrusting her hands out, frantically snatching the empty water in front of her as hysteria returned. Why would he leave her? Why save her only to let her drown again?

  True terror, however, didn’t have enough time to settle. Within a few seconds, he returned. One hand clutched a metal harpoon so easily it looked like an extension of his arm. He glanced at her and pointed the tip toward the anchor and chain. She nodded, understanding his intent. He wasn’t abandoning her after all. She had no reason to completely trust him. Did mermaids really save people? Most of the folklore and fiction painted them as enemies of men, captivating sailors and luring them to their deaths, but he was doing the opposite: saving her, freeing her. It was an automatic reason to trust someone, human or not.

  She looked down at the chains suspending her above the ocean floor, watching the merman break the lock as easily as if it were a daily occurrence. Maybe it was. His body shifted, tail cutting through the water, returning him to her eye level as the chains fell from her ankles. She smiled and kicked her feet gloriously, ascending several feet. He allowed her to celebrate a few seconds then followed to give her another breath. As his mouth sealed to hers, she closed her eyes and reached up to his face, tenderly exploring his jaw, down his neck. It felt as intimate as a kiss this time. She almost wanted it to be, needing some way to thank him. Her fingers trailed over several long slits in the side of his neck. Gills?

  The merman pulled away, not lingering after he finished the breath.

  Marissa looked at him briefly and kicked her legs some more, pushing her up another foot. This, she supposed, was how she would have to ascend. Standard speed was 30 feet per minute, with a possible safety stop along the way. Slow and steady prevents decompression sickness. The merman had to understand that, especially if he’d saved others. The trip would take several minutes. She looked up toward the surface, relieved that she’d be there again soon. Daylight was almost completely gone, but she had hope there’d be enough left to find her rental boat.

  Hands slipped under her jaw, startling her a bit in her continued dreamy trance. Instead of pressing his lips to hers again, however, the merman simply stared into her eyes for a long moment with his lips turned down and a furrow in his brow.

  With how upset he looked, Marissa wondered if he was sad to see her go. She wasn’t sure how to react to that, so she patted his shoulder gently. He moved his hand to her forehead and she tried to prepare herself for what was coming. He was going to communicate telepathically again. Just the thought of it seemed absurd, but then again the thought of merpeople had seemed absurd to her fifteen minutes earlier. Could all merpeople do the same? She had a million questions swimming in her hazy head, but she doubted any would get answered.

  Sorry. Can’t, his deep voice traveled into her thoughts, slow and sorrowful.

  Can’t? She tipped her head curiously, unsure what he meant.

  He dropped his hand and locked his lips to hers another time, filling her lungs. After he finished, his body drifted to a lower position and he tugged her hand down toward him, beckoning her.

  A chill ran through her, digging into her bones. He wasn’t taking her to the surface. She shook her head violently and pointed up toward the glow above them.

  His fingers dug into the sides of her hand and tugged again with a shake of his own head, hair fanning out like a halo.

  Marissa now knew he was no savior, no angel. He wouldn’t let her go. She yanked her arm, ripping her hand from his grasp and kicking as hard as she could. She’d die either way, but certainly this way would be on her own terms.

  Her legs hadn’t even kicked five feet when his arms wrapped around her from behind, crushing her hope with the most delicate of grips. He shifted lithely around to face her, keeping hold, but she wouldn’t give up without a fight. She pushed against his solid chest. His arms didn’t budge. Frustrated, she pushed harder and harder, then clenched her fists and pounded them against him, grunting, forcing angry bubbles through her gritted lips.

  The merman took the hits for several moments then snatched her wrists to halt her. The softness of his face—his kind black eyes, tipped corners of his relaxed lips—was gone. Everything tensed, and Marissa could almost feel the mood shift in the water between them. In less than a second, his arms were around her again, caging her body in his, leaving barely enough room for her to hold a breath.

  Despite attempts to duck her head away, he sealed his lips to hers one last time then spun their bodies around and swam farther south, away from the shelf, diving toward the slope.

  Deep water.

  Three

  Water pressed against Marissa, rushing past so quickly she had no way to fight. The physical restraint wasn’t the only reason, though. The haze inside her head had gotten worse, and she was unsure why. It could have been the new depth or the lack of air. Despite the merman breathing for her at regular intervals, the air wasn’t exactly satisfying. The gills she’d felt on his neck probably filtered air the way a fish’s would, but the mix of gases inside the ocean were already different than the atmosphere, and even more so at depth.

  She clenched her teeth, trying to concentrate, to remember more diving facts. It had been so long since she’d been in the water, so long since she’d even thought about the technical elements. The merman’s hands readjusted around her waist, snapping her thoughts back to the real dilemma. With her head tucked into him, she opened her eyes, looking up toward her trailing feet, watching the light above fade. She supposed none of the technicalities mattered anymore anyway. It was too late.

  The merman’s tail kept a steady pace, strong graceful movements propelling them deeper. Marissa wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to hold onto the hate, her mind and body were too sedated, as if she’d popped an Ambien and was fighting sleep. Her arms and legs were heavy, and it wasn’t just from the pressure of their bodies cutting through the water. Everything was sluggish.

  With one hand still around her body, the merman moved the other up to her face, positioning her for another breath while his body continued to rocket them through the water. His lips covered hers like all the other times, firm and mechanical, necessary, but she still had no idea why. He hadn’t wanted to return her to her life, yet he’d saved her nonetheless. There had to be a reason, and she probably should have been more afraid of what that reason could be, but she was too tired.

  The water no longer pressed, it soothed, lulling her into a dream sta
te. There was no more pressure in her ears, no more coldness on her skin, no more hunger for air. Her thoughts drifted, fading into nothingness.

  ***

  Marissa’s eyes tumbled behind closed lids, dreaming of the water she’d used to love. She was with her father, leaving Pensacola, heading out for a fun dive on his day off. His crystal blue eyes twinkled with the early sun’s reflection as he asked her what direction she wanted to go, and when she answered, he scratched his neatly trimmed beard then smiled big enough to make the sun jealous. It was one of many days they’d spent exploring the gulf together. He had passed to her his love for the sea, sharing his findings, teaching her anything she had wanted to know. Every dive had been a learning experience, but with him, they never felt like lessons.

  She stirred, feeling the weight of reality crash back into her as it did every morning. It was the single moment where sleepy dreams disappeared and memories flooded into consciousness. Her dad was gone. Her mom was gone. She was alone.

  The smell of salt lingered in her nose as she inhaled the cool, heavy air. Air. A million more thoughts rushed in. There was no chance it had all been a dream. Darci had tried to kill her, but a merman had saved her … Even thinking it seemed crazy. Maybe that part had been a dream. Maybe the narcosis had made her hallucinate. Maybe she’d been rescued after all.

  Her eyes popped open, anxious to take in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the wide ceiling curving down. Cavernous. Wet and porous. A few stalactites protruded from above, their shadows deep. She realized then that there was light in the cave, but not sunlight. It projected a greenish tint into the air. Marissa shifted her body, feeling the rough weave of a blanket draped over her and a pillow with the same texture tucked under her head. Instead of sitting up to look around, she tilted her face, afraid of alerting anyone who might be close by. The wall across from her was comprised of green stones exactly like the one she’d found in her father’s house, the one Darci had stolen. She gasped. There were thousands of them, or perhaps they were all connected in one formation. Their swirls were the light source, climbing the wall like magical wisps of smoke, illuminating the entire area with a radiant glow. At the base of the wall, the stones submerged into a pool roughly the size of a car. Their light shined even brighter from below the water. She thought about her dad’s pendant; salt water had triggered its light.