Chapter 13 #2
“We must be off now,” Gunnar bowed. “Do you grant us safe passage?”
“Yesss,” the mermaid croaked.
My stomach lurched. Oh no. I covered my mouth with my palm, holding everything in. But the smell, the boat ride, the wave of nausea: it was all too much.
Her head snapped towards me, her patchy strands of hair—no trace of the vibrant red except in the tips floating in the water—whipping around her rubbery shoulders.
“Everything alright with this one heeere?” She swam closer.
A heave pushed its way through me. I nodded, trying to play the game. God, though, her breath was more rancid than rotten meat, the scent seeping through the cracks of my fingers no matter how tight I clutched my face.
“She’s fine, fair one. Just a little seasick,” Freyja purred. But I knew there was a command under all that flattery, a silent one directed at me.
Curiosity flickered in the mermaid’s dark stare before something else—rage, hurt—engulfed it.
She bared her teeth, that brilliant flash of white now yellow and jagged like a piranha’s. “Do you not admire my beautyyy?”
“No—I mean yes,” I started, choking on my words. “You’re stunning, I’m just…” Acid burned my throat. The mermaid that’d been perched on the floating slab was gone. A groove in the ice indicated where she’d slithered off, a small wake rippling against the side.
“You’ll have to forgive my friend.” Freyja effortlessly moved to sit next to me, draping herself across the seat. An artless pose, but a strategic one that blocked me from the mermaid’s glare. “She freezes in the presence of such sovereignty.”
A quiet splash sounded next to the rowboat, this time behind me.
“You knowww, we haven’t collected a tithe from the elves in quite some tiiime,” the creature sang.
“I think one is duuue,” a second voice grated.
Oh God, please don’t say my eyeballs. Sweat lined my brow.
“Very well.” Gunnar’s casual curtness bellowed behind me. “We’ll address it with Her Majesty promptly.”
“Once we arrive at the kingdom.” Freyja waved as if the issue was a bothersome thing she could simply toss away.
“No.” The wood groaned and rocked in the second mermaid’s strong grip.
Freyja stumbled forward, and suddenly there was nothing between me and the first mermaid.
My arms swung out for balance, but my heart dropped to my stomach. Her wide, dilated pupils were unmoving, unblinking. Already fixed on me—as if I were a bullseye, a prize.
Or worse, food.
“You cross our waters as you please. You disrespect our presence. You pay it now.” Her words held no semblance of the flirty singsong. It was deep and longing and full of… hunger.
Freyja’s shoulders stiffened as she straightened herself. Gunnar shifted his weight.
“Alright.” Freyja reached beneath the seat for the tackle box. “How’s a silver dollar? Or a vintage broach? That’d look lovely around your neck. Or maybe a pearl comb? So beautiful with your hair.” Her words were full of compliments but clipped with anger.
The mermaid’s cackle scraped against the wind, as if it didn’t belong in this world. “No. We are not interested in your trinkets. We will take our payment in flesh.”
I blinked. A few times. Flesh? That couldn’t be right.
Gunnar shifted his weight. “We didn’t bring any meat.”
“Sure, you diiid,” the first mermaid gargled.
Oh God. I could see where this was going… I wrapped my arms around my waist, as if that could protect me from the bone-crushing jaws of a cannibalistic mermaid.
“And we haven’t dined on elf in a long, long tiiime.”
Freyja swiftly stood. “That’s because it’s outlawed.”
I glanced at the fists tight at her sides. She flexed her hand, the veins popping back into place—and I stilled. She was missing half her pinky.
“And,” Freyja retorted icily, “we protect you from being slaughtered by the whalers in return. I’d say that’s a very fine deal. No elf, but at least you get to live.”
“Ah!” The first mermaid put her hand over her heart. A mockery of sympathy. “Are we upsetting the queen’s most treasured Eye?”
I tilted my head. The term didn’t ring any bells, but I stashed it away to question them on it later—provided there would be a later.
“Oh pleeease,” the second mermaid crooned. “You know she was a daddy’s girlll.”
Was?
Freyja’s corduroy jacket flew off, her hands now making quick work of her shoes. My breath sputtered. She’d used those manicured fingers, the ones tugging off her wool socks, to threaten me with her magic earlier.
Why wasn’t she using it now?
A cluster of scar tissue gleamed along her bicep where the skin drew back, hollowed out like a bite mark. Goosebumps tickled my arms, my pulse ringing in my ears as she continued to strip, down to nothing but a camisole and leggings.
She was about to jump in. When she was teetering on what could have been no more than two inches of railing, Gunnar grabbed her by the waist.
The mermaids pointed and laughed.
Freyja thrashed against him.
I glanced at my backpack, still tucked beneath the first row of seats. If I could reach that, I could snag the dwarven dagger I’d packed. But the boat swung wildly, like a wooden pendulum. I was stuck. It was going to tip.
Water whirlpooled around us, slamming against the rudder, crashing over the bow, each hit to the hull moving in time with the mermaids as they circled the boat like frenzied sharks.
Warmth splintered off my chest, tingling down my arms. My Source.
The elves weren’t calling on their powers, but maybe I could call on mine.
I unfurled my fingers. The boat pitched sideways, the edge skimming the water.
I swallowed a sharp gasp of air as my hands shot out to the sides, my elbows locking to keep me from going overboard.
A small, rectangular object slid across the wet planks. The tacklebox.
I lunged for it, not really sure what I’d find, or even really what I was looking for.
The top compartment snapped open, salt-crusted treasures spilling out. A ballerina figurine with a moldy tulle skirt. A rusty spoon, a silver brush, a locket with a broken hinge, dozens of bobby pins. Nothing but worn-out trinkets and trash.
Honey-beige skin and darting eyes danced in a reflection at the bottom of the box, so panicked I almost didn’t recognize them as my own.
A tiny handheld mirror. I grasped the thin handle, my face pinched in the splotchy glass.
Intricate swirls threaded the metal, pressing into my clammy palm.
A shadow stirred behind me—a flash of smoky green.
I spun to catch what’d sped by in the reflection, but it was too late. The mermaid was clambering over the side, the wood splintering beneath her claws in preview of what she wanted to do to my flesh.
The mirror slipped from my grip, shattering on the floor.
A wave of hot, fishy stench clogged my throat.
She was singing, screaming. Whatever noise she was making, her breath was just as vicious as before; I was choking on the odor, writhing at the sound. It curdled my senses, drowning everything else out, the uncanny version of a siren’s call.
Fingers digging into my ears, I gritted my teeth, twisting to find the elves.
Slick, membranous hands wrapped around my ankle, knocking me down onto the deck. With my free foot, I kicked until my dirty sole stamped her nose and she withdrew with a hiss.
I thrust my foot out harder. A growl rent the air.
Nostrils flared, and the seal-bodied huntress hurled her upper body forward with no other motive than to crush and kill.
“River!” Gunnar, pinned beneath the blubber of the other bloodthirsty merfolk, slid the mirror my way. My fingers wrapped around the gilded handle. “Hold it up!”
Wielding the frame like a knife, I thrust it forward.
The mermaid stopped midair, coiling in on herself—her wail so unbearably loud it could have broken the glass if it hadn’t already been in shards. I covered my ears, nearly dropping the mirror, the earsplitting shriek carving its way into my bones.
Springing to his feet, Gunnar darted over to me, his hand wrapping around mine.
Together, we shoved the antique forward until the mermaid slunk over the edge and disappeared into the lagoon. Unclasping our fingers, Gunnar tossed it to Freyja.
She caught it in one hand and thrust it in front of her, forcing the convulsing, wailing being back into the water—hanging over the side until the cries faded to gargles.
Then there was nothing… nothing but our heavy, haunted breaths in the silence.
“You know what they say,” Freyja deadpanned, considering her perfect reflection in the remnants of the mirror. “Flattery gets you everywhere.”