Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
A nother day, another morning waking up sore. Kent’s back ached from sleeping on the uncomfortable hardwood floor with nothing but a thin blanket to cushion him. Allen deserved taking the hammock since he was still recovering from his injury, and there was no way he could ask Seth to trade his own hammock for the floor. At least this was temporary, Kent kept reminding himself. He’ll have his bed at Fareham House to look forward to once back in England.
His father would pay the ransom, yet—what would he think of Kent for forming such a plot? Would he resent him for stealing so much money from his coffers? Take away Kent’s salary, as a means to pay off this ‘debt’ back to the earl? He thought that unlikely, given the situation and the reasoning behind it all. But every doubt that could enter his mind did , as the sloop John Beaut sailed forward, day after day.
How would he meet with Mo again? Could they still meet secretly on the beach, just as they did before? That wouldn’t be as feasible once the weather became colder, as snow would blanket the land and deadly frost bit his nose and fingertips. No, Kent believed, as he had this entire time, they would find a way for Mo to become human. If Mo had legs, he would find a way for them to stay together on land. Kent was sure of it.
But if he hadn’t become human yet already, what else did they need? What was the catalyst for the shift to take place?
Every time he thought on the subject, that same, warm, assuring magical pulse swirled in his chest again. The connection was there. Something was pulling them together.
But still, what would it take?
The three of them shared a small breakfast of crunchy biscuits and salted fish, as they had every day. Once finished, Seth decided to head above deck, leaving Allen and Kent alone in the room, sitting on the floor next to each other.
“I wish I could see Mo,” Kent mused aloud. “I know I say it all the time, but…” He brought his knees up close to his face, and wrapped his arms around his legs. “Oh, I miss him so much.”
“You shall see him again,” said the burly redhead. Allen rubbed his chin, now sporting somewhat of a beard from not shaving. Meanwhile, Kent’s own ‘beard’ was only a mere shadow of light stubble.
They shared a moment of silence as Kent continued to cook his worried thoughts in his head. Silence wasn’t anything that was bothersome, and there was more of it than voices if Seth wasn’t with them. But when Allen spoke again, he brought up something that surprised even Kent?—
“Do you think there’s something about Mo that you don’t know about?”
Kent lifted his head from his knees. “What? I suppose I couldn’t possibly know everything about him, as he would not myself, but… what do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking… and I just can’t shake the feeling I have. Fareham, are you truly sure that Mo is not a siren?”
Kent’s breath hitched, and he swore his heart skipped a beat at the absurd accusation. “Of course, I’m sure of it. You heard him sing yourself; you were there along with all of us.”
“I was, and that’s what makes me wary.” His mouth pressed in a flat line. “Do you remember how when he was singing, you stumbled into his lap? It wasn’t just you who faltered, no, it was everyone nearby. Davies and Walker, too.”
“We were drunk. Of course we would stumble, especially if we all felt the ship sail over a hefty wave. That was all it was, I… I don’t…” He adjusted his position, moving his knees down and crossing his legs, stockings and shoes off at the moment. “What are you trying to say?”
“I didn’t feel any sort of wave. I stood perfectly still, as I watched you and the others stagger. It was… strange.”
Kent sat there, stumped. He didn’t know what to make of any of this. “How could we feel something then, and you not?”
“I’ve thought about this,” said Allen, rubbing his chin again. “Perhaps there was magic in Mo’s voice, and I was unaffected because of the mer-blood in me. I’ve heard that the Siren’s Song only affects humans, and technically, I’m not fully human.”
Everything he said sounded so logical. He really had been thinking of this ever since that night drinking rum on The Sterling Mer , but still, Kent had his doubts. “Mo told me he’s just a regular merman. There has to be another explanation. I still think it could’ve been just a wave, and… perhaps where you were standing you didn’t feel it like we did. Or perhaps we all just had more to drink, I don’t know.”
“I just wanted to bring it to your attention. That… in case I am right in this possibility, Mo may be lying to you.”
Kent’s heart clenched at the thought. He couldn’t help biting his lip, looking down at the floor. “But it still could’ve been anything. I don’t wish to think—think that he’d lie about that.”
“Fareham, even so, hear me with this.” Allen reached over and put a large, reassuring hand on Kent’s knee. He looked up. “You know Mo better than any of us. I know you two are more than simply friends, and I’ve seen you interact. I see the way he looks at you. He’s in love with you. There is no way around lying about that—those eyes speak the truth. You feel the same way for him, yes?”
Kent gulped, and he nodded, feeling that warm, wonderful, magical pulse in his chest once more. “Yes, I do.” He didn’t realize until after he said it, but there —saying this to Allen was actually the first time he admitted aloud, to any other soul other than to the merman himself, that he truly was in love with Mo. It solidified his feelings even more, giving them weight, holding his heart delicately.
“I believe Mo is honest in what he says, how he cares for you and will protect you at any cost. I don’t wish to cause doubts on that,” said Allen, giving Kent’s knee a gentle squeeze. “It was just something I was thinking, that I felt you should be aware of.”
Kent nodded again, placing his hand atop Allen’s. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath—in, and out. Allen’s suspicions sounded very logical, how perhaps something did happen that night and Mo lied about what caused it. But Kent didn’t wish to dwell on it. After all, during that moment, no one was injured, no blood was shed, and their ship didn’t sink. It was almost as if nothing happened at all. Also, Allen was right—there was nothing but honesty in Kent’s and Mo’s love for one another, and that, in itself, was enough. More than enough… it was everything.
Suddenly, the door to their small room flung open, nearly whacking the wall behind it. Seth stood in the doorway, with the biggest, genuine smile Kent had ever seen on his face.
“Fareham, come quick! The crew had a vote, and Captain Young has granted you access above deck for a moment. My mermaid friend Wenta is here, along with your merman.”
Kent couldn’t believe his ears. “Truly?” He grinned back, the biggest grin he’d had in over a week, hastily reaching and scrambling for his stockings and shoes that were lying nearby on the floor, nearly slipping from his fingers from his frantic movement. “You speak the truth? I really can go above and see Mo?”
“Yes, now hurry!”
Kent’s heart pounded fiercely as he secured his stockings over his knees, fastened the bottoms of his breeches, and buckled his shoes. “Of course! I’ve been waiting—oh! I’ve been waiting to see him for so long. Thank you so much, Seth.” He stood, and decided that he was dressed enough, leaving himself in his shirtsleeves and cravat, his waistcoat and frock coat still on the floor.
“I’ll stay here,” said Allen, still sitting. “I’ll only slow you down. Go see your merman, you lovebird.” He looked up with a smirk.
“Thank you, Allen,” he said, looking down at him.
In a rush of movement, Seth escorted Kent through the forecastle and up the ladder, never leaving much space between them. Kent poked his head above deck and breathed fresh air for the first time since he came aboard and, at that moment, was the overwhelming scent of saltwater the most pleasing thing he’d smelt in his entire life. Seth nudged his leg, hurrying him to keep going, and Kent finally placed his feet on the floorboards of the upper deck. Once fully out, Captain Young made eye contact—he must’ve been waiting for him, standing only a few feet away.
Kent only had mere seconds of freedom before Young forcibly grabbed his wrist.
“The merfolk are waiting over here,” said Young with a rasp, tugging Kent over to the port-side railing. “You have a few minutes to say what you want to say, but that is all. I will hold onto you the entire time, to ensure you don’t do anything stupid.”
He was practically shoved into the railing, Young never taking his firm grasp off Kent’s wrist, when he finally saw the most dazzling sight. He had to blink—the hot sunlight was so bright reflecting against the water—and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his free hand, focusing with his one good eye as best he could on the two figures floating in the blue expanse.
Mo was there. Mo, in the flesh, smiled up at him, looking as handsome as ever. It really was him.
“Mo!” he shouted with excitement. The warm, swirling, magical feeling pulsed even harder, curling around his heart in an embrace. “You’re here! I’m here! Why, oh Lord, I’ve missed you so much!”
“Kent, I’ve missed you too!” Mo called out from below. “You must understand how much it warms my heart to see you again. All I’ve wanted is confirmation with my own eyes that you are safe.”
“We’ve told you as such,” said Young, reaffirming his grip on Kent with an uncomfortable squeeze.
“Though, even someone as great as you can understand the difference in seeing versus believing,” said the mermaid next to Mo, who Kent assumed was Wenta. There was something very peculiar about her appearance, and once he looked closer—it struck him. She had the same orange hair, same freckles, same facial structure as Allen. What the devil?
“Well, yes,” Young barked back at the mermaid. “That is why I am allowing this meeting in the first place. Carry on.” He nudged Kent without a care, digging his hips into the railing. He winced at the force.
“I’m fine, Mo, I’m fine,” he said, quelling the panic that was emerging in his merman’s expression. “I’ve just been sitting in a small room doing practically nothing. Allen is fine and doing well, too.”
Mo’s lips curved up in a smile once again. “That’s good. The coloring of your face is a bit darker, is that…?”
Kent rubbed his cheek with his free hand, feeling the rough stubble underneath. “Oh! I haven’t shaved this entire time. My beard doesn’t grow very fast, though. Never has. So it’s just a little bit.”
The sound of Mo’s laugh made Kent’s heart soar. “You look very handsome. What I wouldn’t give to be able to touch your face right now, and feel it for myself.” Wenta murmured something with a smirk to Mo, which was quiet enough (and likely in mer-tongue) to where Kent didn’t understand, and Mo chuckled back.
“I would like that very much,” said Kent. “It shan’t be long now, I hope, for us to arrive in England.”
“I hope so too.” Mo’s smile was relentless, gazing dearly at Kent.
I see the way he looks at you , Allen’s recent words rang in Kent’s head. Kent could see it too, and there was no mistaking the glimmer that shone in Mo’s ocean-blue eyes. Whether or whether not Mo was a siren played no factor in the love the merman clearly had for Kent; any and all suspicions drifted away as long as he could see that smile. He had proof of their love right here, right now, pulsing a magic force right inside his body.
“Something strange has been happening… Do you feel it too, Mo?” asked Kent, putting his hand flat on his chest.
“What do you mean?” asked Mo.
“As a human, I’ve never had magic within me, but this that I feel cannot be described as anything else. It has to be some sort of magic. And I feel it most when I think of you.”
Mo mimicked the motion, putting his hand on his own chest, pushing his sea crystal necklace out of the way. “Yes, I feel it. It’s a magic unlike any other. Noon confirmed with me that she believes it’s part of that connection we need. And that…” Strangely, Mo looked down, and his smile waned. He paused as he swallowed, then looked back up. “That magic will make the shift occur.”
Why the hesitation? Perhaps Mo was unsure himself, not knowing what else they needed for the shift either, just like Kent. But Wenta also gave Mo a curious look, asking him, “A connection you feel? ‘The shift’? Oh!” She smiled, then clicked something in mer-tongue. Mo nodded to her, and responded back in the same language. Kent realized then that he probably shouldn’t say any more, for he didn’t know how much the pirates knew of shape-shifting magic, or what they would do with that information. Mo and him could discuss it later, when finally back on land.
However, Young was getting restless, and he tugged on Kent’s wrist once more. “Wrap it up, wrap it up. I can’t stand this sentimentality,” he groaned.
Seth walked up next to Kent, leaning over the railing as well and eyeing his captain. “You deal with it perfectly fine from me!”
“Your sort of ‘sentimentality’ is different from what these two fuckers are showing.”
Kent held back a sneer, turning his head away from Young and back to the sea below. Before he could speak, Seth called out to Wenta, “I’m sure you heard from your merman friend there, but we will talk better later. How I’ve missed the feeling of your body against mine! I’ve been hungry for you, dear Wenta. I promise I’ll ravish you exquisitely next time we are near?—”
“Enough!” shouted Young, taking his anger out on Kent’s wrist. He winced from the slight pain. “Like you all said, it won’t be long now until we reach England. Less than a week, perhaps, if the winds favor us. You’ve seen each other, you’ve spoken, that’s enough.”
“One more thing, please. Oh, please!” Kent nearly whined with how desperate he must’ve sounded.
“Enough is enough,” growled Young. He pulled on Kent’s wrist one more time, finally tearing him away from the railing, and dragged him back to the door in the floor that led belowdecks. Kent’s heart pounded, not just from the force, not just from the high of seeing his beloved, but from something else. The magic inside his body clutched at his heart and coiled around it like tentacles. It kept him warm and elated, even as he was urged to climb down the ladder. Seth stayed above, perhaps still talking with Wenta and Mo, and Kent couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t allotted more time. But this separation would be only temporary. They would be together back in England soon enough.
Once back at the door to their small room, Young finally let go of Kent’s wrist and pulled out the key from his coat pocket. He did not say a word as he stopped, and stood for a moment. Those silver eyes bore into Kent with a certain sort of intensity; a peculiar, terrifying hunger that made Kent’s stomach coil and shrivel in fear. Dear God, have I done something wrong?
“You’re too pretty for a merman like that,” was what Young finally said. “Why should you leave yourself exclusive to him , when plenty of much finer men are here right in front of you?”
Kent couldn’t help but clench his teeth. What the hell? Was Young trying to woo him? The thought disgusted him, especially by the sight of the pirate’s crooked smile, shadowed in that gnarly black beard. “Because I love Mo,” Kent retorted. “No one else fills my heart in the way he does. I wouldn’t dare be with anyone else.”
“What does love have anything to do with it?” He narrowed his gaze, fire sparking behind his eyes, before he shook his head, apparently dismissing the whole thought. “Whatever. In you go.” And he opened the lock, shoving Kent back into the room with Allen.
“So you wish to become human?” asked Wenta once they were back underwater.
“Yes, absolutely. I love that man aboard, Kent, and wish to be with him on land. Not only that, I’ve always felt some sort of pull toward humanity my entire life,” replied Mo, searching around for Noon. It didn’t take long to find her, as she swam slow and steady; the whale never strayed too far from the ship. “Do you know anything about the process, of becoming human?” he asked Wenta.
“Actually, yes,” she clicked, and Mo’s heart thudded at those words. “In fact, I already have some human blood in me, though I’ve yet to shift into a human form myself. But I’m positive I’m nearly there, and I’ve learnt a lot about it from my grandmother, bless her heart.”
“Human blood?” The coincidences with Allen were starting to sound too much like mere coincidences. “Does that mean you are a half-breed?”
Wenta pursed her lips. “Not quite. My father was a half-breed and wed a full-blooded mermaid, therefore leaving me with only a quarter human blood. Which, apparently, is not enough human blood to let me shift freely between human and merfolk forms. The magic has a delicate balance, I suppose. If I wish to become human, I must form a connection with humanity, just like a full-blooded mer would have to.”
All this information was coming at him so fast, it made his head spin at just how quickly it was being filled. He waved a hand in front of himself. “Wait—wait. So your father was a half-breed, and could shift between human and merfolk forms easily? But if one has little or no human blood, like me and you, they cannot do that, and must tap into other magic?”
“Precisely. Yes, you got it!” Wenta smiled and nodded.
“This is new information to me, too,” said Noon. “I had known merfolk and humans could breed together, but I did not know the intricacies of how that would affect their ability to shift into human or merfolk form.”
They all swam easily along together in the blue expanse, never letting the sloop John Beaut out of their sight above. The sun was warm overhead, casting gold rays through the water, occasionally disturbed by shadows as schools of fish swam by. “I’m still curious about your family,” said Mo. “Do you have any siblings?” He realized it was a tangent, but he just needed to know.
“None that I know of.” She rubbed her chin. “I was the only youngling of my mother and father.”
But perhaps, Allen and Wenta share a father, yet had different mothers? “If you remember me saying, there’s another friendly human man on board with Kent, whose name is Thomas Allen. I ask you this because… Allen had told me before he has mer-blood, and bears a striking resemblance to you. It’s uncanny.”
“Oh, truly?” Her brows shot up. “I know of no one by that name, and it might just be a coincidence. Unless… there’s a secret sibling I’m unaware of, to which, could be possible. My father never spoke much of the time before he met my mother, and it always left me wondering.”
“I wonder too, then. We didn’t see Allen when we went above the surface; he must’ve been belowdecks. But I’m sure if you saw him, you would understand why I’m so curious.”
“Yes, yes. It is possible my father coupled with someone else before Mother… though unfortunately, I cannot ask him anymore.”
“Is he…?”
She nodded grimly. “Father was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was brutally attacked by sharks when I was young. Mother died of illness soon after. I ended up being primarily raised by my grandmother, and… well, it was rather recently that she had passed on, too.”
Sharks were serious predators, and Mo knew that all too well with what happened with his own parents, witnessing the bloody mess first-hand. Even though what his own father did with his mother’s body was quite different, he could still empathize. “I’m sorry for your losses.”
“I am fine now.” She smiled. “But thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He grinned back. “Though, if I may go back to the original topic, about becoming human…”
“Ah, yes. What do you know about it? You said before you feel a certain kind of magic connecting yourself to your beloved. That should be what you need.”
He nodded. “Yes, and Noon here told me what she knows, about how that connection to humanity will grant merfolk legs.” He petted Noon’s side, just behind her eye. “Do you feel that same magic with Seth?”
“I do, in fact.” Wenta’s whole face lit up with glee as she spoke of him. “While I wouldn’t say I’m ‘in love’ with him like you and your human are, it is still a form of love, one where I care for him deeply. Like how one cares for their friends.”
“I can understand that. To want to live among humanity doesn’t require… romantic love.”
“Precisely.”
“Though, what is the catalyst for the shift to occur? Do you know?”
Wenta took a deep breath, her gills fluttering as she inhaled, and sighed out a stream of bubbles. “It’s not caused by something mechanical, like giving a human a kiss. It’s not something you can just think either—you cannot simply will your tail to split into legs. At least not the first time you shift. No, acquiring human legs requires a great change in your core. And it’s something that all merfolk are capable of—healers, sirens, whoever. I know this to be true. Something deep within your soul shifts, devoting yourself to the human realm. Not only that, the human or humans you choose to align yourself with have to accept your offering within themselves, too. Wholly, completely, and truthfully.”
Mo looked down and clutched his hands on the strap of his carry-bag over his shoulder, letting out a sigh of his own. His suspicions were right—if it weren’t for the fact he’d lied, likely he would already have become human. But that just meant all he had to do was tell Kent the truth, right? How could he, what would he say? How would Kent feel, knowing Mo had murdered so many humans? Despite the majority he killed being pirates, how many of them even deserved to die? How much of it was simply for satisfying his monstrous drive, the need to kill and see the blood?
But it didn’t have to be that way anymore.
He clutched the strap of his carry-bag tighter.
Over these last few months, Mo had desperately tried learning more about his Song, refusing it, rejecting it, controlling it. His connection with Kent helped him see that he could.
The Song did not control him , he controlled the Song.
Though, he didn’t wish to admit this all to Wenta. He’d only just met her yesterday, after all. So, he asked her a question instead, “How do you know all this, even if you haven’t experienced the shift yourself yet?”
“My grandmother told me, as she was a full-blooded mermaid, and was able to become human herself. My grandfather was her human lover,” she said. Ah yes, she did mention her grandmother.
“And she was able to change between forms freely, shifting from human to merfolk and back?”
“Yes.” Wenta nodded. “Once a mer gains the ability to, they can go back and forth. It was after my parents had passed that she’d first showed me the transformation… and I’ve been in awe ever since. I wanted for humanity too, to live out the adventures she had in her youth, to explore the world in a way no mer could otherwise. Living in the sea just isn’t enough for me; I need more . To see more, to do more, to live more.”
Mo smiled, a warmth spreading through his chest. “I think you and I are very similar in that aspect.”
She grinned back. “I suppose so, if we both wish to become human.”
“Though you haven’t yet, even with a connection to Seth?”
Wenta sucked in her lips, gnawing at the bottom one, her smile disappearing. “No. But I believe I’m close. I feel that power in my heart, the one that pulses when I think of him. He is the only human I’ve found that I care for this much—the only other being I’ve ever felt this strongly for. Though, I think the issue is… I haven’t discussed this much with him. I don’t wish to burden him with my desires. He’s so carefree, so easygoing—I don’t wish for him to think he needs to attach himself exclusively to me in order for the shift to happen.”
“But the shift doesn’t have to be because of romantic love, right? I’m trying to understand…”
“You are correct, Mo,” said Noon with her low, booming voice. “Wenta, it is valid for you to feel that way, but do not worry yourself. Friendships come in many forms. You can still live freely, adventure separately if you wish, and remain close in your heart. If you are already feeling the magic, then Seth must feel the pull, too. When you are able to, you should talk to him.”
Wenta spun to face the whale, bubbles fluttering around from her violet fins. “You think so?” she asked, and Noon hummed. “Thank you for the encouragement. Yes, that should be fine. And Mo, what of you?”
“What of me?” He widened his eyes and pouted his lips.
“After everything I’ve told you, do you believe you’re just as close to the shift?”
At that, he thought of Kent, and the magic clutched and pulsed in his chest. Warm, comforting, inviting. “Yes, I believe I am. I still have things to discuss with Kent, like you do Seth, but…” He gulped. “Our love is true. I will get there.”
Wenta reached over to him, patting his shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze. “I know you will.”