Chapter Eighteen
O wen was here. He saw my nonsensical messages and he came. He came so quickly. I saw the phone light up and send me things to look at, but I couldn’t read his messages and I didn’t know what to do with the ringing except cover it with a pillow, willing it to stop.
But he came. Owen knelt before me, rubbing soft circles on my knees. If I shifted at all, he would see the scales on the top of my legs.
Now that he was here, where to begin? How do I say the words, how do I break the illusion of being this girl he seems to care for so deeply? Wretched, awful guilt coated my tongue and throat, clenching around my heart. I was sick with it, and confessing would be the only balm.
I wasn’t ready for Owen to hear the truth from my lips and recoil from me.
“Merrow?”
“There’s something I need to tell you, and I don’t know how to say it,” I said. The tears came. This was going to be goodbye. My eyes burned and I wanted to wipe the tears, but he would see them. He would know that I was crying and that made it even worse. I didn’t deserve the comfort he would offer.
I knew it was goodbye; it was for the best, but the time had come and–
“I’m here,” he said, rubbing circles on my knees. It warmed the skin there and sent chills through the rest of me. Everything in me was so tightly wound, my bones seemed like they might break before I got these words out.
Just say it, blurt it out, and then it will be over , I told myself over and over again. Owen tugged on my hands, pulling them to him and before I could stop him, he saw the little scales that were on the side of my palm.
“Merrow…”
“I’m a mermaid,” I said all at once, the words falling out of my mouth as if they were made of fire, burning their way out just to get out faster.
Owen stared at me for a beat. His fingers brushed against the little scales on my hand, as he inspected them, staring like I wasn’t even real. He touched each one, fingering the edges for the feel of the sharper edges and I fought back a groan. His touch was so gentle, so maddening gentle, that my skin itched again.
“You’re–”
“A mermaid, yes. I know it seems impossible but–”
“You’re a mermaid,” he repeated, rocking back on his heels to gaze up at me. My heart raced. He still held my hands, but he had stopped rubbing slow circles now. He stared, like instead of scales, I’d grown another head. Something monstrous, perhaps even evil–
“You’re a mermaid,” he said again. I waited before I spoke again, because the look on Owen’s face reminded me of the face Lilia would make when she worked through a puzzle. He needed a minute for his mind to catch up to the weight of my words. I needed one too.
“Yes,” I replied. My voice came out in hushed tones, so soft like I was approaching a frightened merling. I thought then of the child caught in the nets, and my heart sank again. There was no right choice here–damn one or damn us all. Why was this the only choice?
“I can’t believe it,” he said, and the words crushed against me like a tidal wave.
“I–” I stopped. What was there to say? That I lied to him? That I lead him on? No, not that. The feelings in my chest were my own; even if the siren song worked on him, it didn’t work on me. The tenderness that washed over me when Owen held my gaze was all my own. I realized then that I had pictured more than a week with Owen. I pictured weeks. Months. So badly I wanted to show him the ocean, so he could see it through my eyes, and he could see just how close his paintings were.
“I think I knew,” he said as I watched his throat bob up and down. He was so gentle, so kind. The smile on his face made some tiny, horrible part of me feel hopeful. Hopeful for what, I wasn’t sure–this would only end in heartbreak.
“You knew?”
“I… hoped? I’ve been dreaming of her, the mermaid in my paintings, for so long. She was so real that I’d wake up and feel drained. Like, I’d left some part of me behind in the water with her, and I’d wake up drowning. Maybe it was you. Maybe I was just dreaming of you,” his words trailed off so quietly that his lips barely moved. My confession came out like fire, and his was sweet, sweet water. The words fell from him like a gentle rain or the bubbling foam on the seashore.
“You’re not afraid of me?” It came out before I could stop it. The tears had started, and now I was the ocean again. There would be no stopping these tears so I let them fall, wiping away droplets.
“Why would I be afraid of you, Merrow?”
My laugh was mirthless, “Oh Owen, only a human with a heart like yours would stand toe to toe with a predator and think you’d have the upper hand. ”
“I’m not afraid of you Merrow, because I don’t think you’re some sea monster. I just see you, the beautiful girl that doesn’t know how to answer a phone.” The smirk tugged at his lips and now I laughed too. I dug the phone out, shaking it at him. I stared at the black rectangle, waiting for it to howl again.
“It makes such awful noises! How do you make it stop?” He laughed then–full and loud, taking up the space he tried to be invisible in.
“Let me show you,” he said with his hand out for me to hand him the phone. Owen tapped his own phone a few times until mine lit up again and I covered my ears. The sound felt piercing, like it was trying to get me to notice it, to touch it.
He tapped my phone and the noise stopped.
“What did you–”
“Green button. The noise means that I’m calling you. I’m trying to talk to you.” He held the phone to his ear and I did the same. “Hello Merrow, I’m glad you’re smiling again.”
The sound came through the phone and I nearly jumped. His voice was in my ear. “I’m glad you are smiling too.” He tapped the phone a few more times and set it on my little clothes box. Dresser , I reminded myself, that’s what they called it.
“Do you have more… scales?”
“Yes, that’s why I left yesterday. I felt them, and I didn’t want you to see them–”
“Will you show me?” The dark parts of his eyes were wide, and the sea green was just a rim of color. Color stained his lips, his cheeks, and I wanted to see how far down his neck it extended. I wanted to touch the smooth planes of his body, and to be seen.
I needed to be seen, and accepted.
So I pulled my dress up high on my legs until my undergarments were nearly visible. Small, lacy things that felt like they were made from the silkiest of water against my skin. Owen sucked in a breath when he saw the small cluster of scales near my hip.
His fingers brushed across the scales, and then he leaned in to press his lips to each one. Breath caught in my throat, sharp and tight and I wanted him to do that again.
“They’re beautiful. They’re the same color I saw in my dreams, but they sparkle more?” He rocked back, his hands retreating from my legs, so he could look up at me. Oh Neptune below, he was beautiful. Why hadn’t anyone ever told me that humans could be so lovely? He had little freckles all over his face, so faint that they only lit up when his cheeks grew warm. Like now. I wanted to kiss every freckle on his body, learning the map of stars etched on him.
“They look dull to me. Maybe it’s because the light in the air looks different than in the water. The landwalkers don’t seem to look for sparkle,” I said, letting the words flow from me more naturally.
“Landwalkers? Is that what you called us when you lived in the water?”
“Yes, or land dwellers, and we are ocean dwellers.”
“Tell me everything about the ocean,” he said and his voice was so dreamy.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” I said honestly. Now was the time for honesty. I told him one truth, with the other still heavy on my heart.
“Tell me your real name. Is it Merrow?” Owen got up to join me on the bed, our knees touching, our shoulders touching. This tentative, innocent question was a dance: do I know who you are? Was what he really wanted to ask me.
“Yes, my name is Merrow of the White Tides. That’s my tribe, we all bear the same surname. We travel through the seas between the seasons, seeking warmer waters, weaving our songs and stories through the waves.”
“And they’re here? In the ocean? ”
“Yes, my people will be here a while longer, but I can’t stay on land for long.”
“Can you breathe?” he asked, feathering the lightest of touches over my wrist to look at the scales again. His fingers stayed at my pulse, feeling the thrum of it as he watched my chest rise and fall, rise and fall.
“Of course I can, but I only have a few more days on land before I have to return.”
“What brought you to the land?” And there it was, the question I couldn’t dodge. I promised myself to be honest, to let him hear the truth from my own mouth before it swallowed us both whole.
“There is one more thing I need to tell you,” and this time when I spoke, the words did not fall out of me like they were molten. This time they felt like rocks, tearing through my throat and getting caught on tongue, raking through my mouth.
Owen sat quietly, waiting. He started to reach for me but stopped, giving me the space to speak without him interrupting. The truth built up in my chest until the words were flowing like the tides.
“My people… the magic that keeps us as merfolk instead of just sea creatures is fading. All of our magic is fading.” Owen leaned in, hanging on every word.
“You have magic? In the ocean?”
“Our songs. Siren songs. Do you know the myths about them? I was told that the humans still knew about us, but they didn’t know that their stories weren’t just fables but histories.”
“Yeah, they sing and then people fall in love with them–”
Maybe I wouldn’t need to say the rest. Understanding snapped into focus on his face, and now I waited. He’d give me space, so I’d do the same.
Quietly, silently, so soft, the words were barely real, he said, “Did you use the siren song on me? ”
“No.” And I was so relieved, so proud that that was the truth. The few notes that I had hummed wouldn’t be enough for it to take hold, and wrap around his heart. I saw how much it affected him, and I wouldn’t do it again.
“But in my dreams–”
I pulled his hands to my chest, kissing the knuckles. “That wasn’t me, Owen. The dreams were your own. I’d never even seen your face until the ritual started.”
“What ritual?” His voice cracked but he didn’t move away from me. Our legs were pressed together and the heat from his body felt like an invitation. I wanted to be in his arms, I realized then, wanted him to hold me tight and keep the rest of the truth from ever coming out.
“When a mermaid turns twenty-five, she must go to the land and bring a human to the waters. We,” I stumbled here, dread coating every part of me, “We need a human because their souls and hearts and blood fuel our magic. Back in the olden days, it was so much easier to bring a human to the waters, but now, well, it’s been ages since we’ve found a human. It’s much harder to find one that has a heart pure enough to sustain us. Quality over quantity is needed these days.”
“So you came here to–” he swallowed, and then stopped.
“I came to the human world above the seas for you, Owen Harper, with your heart made of solid gold. I came for you to fall in love with me, so I could bring you to your death.”
“But what if I was already in love with you before you came here?” He hung his head, sandy blond hair covering his eyes so I couldn’t look at him. The tips of his fingers turned white as he dug them into his hair. The shuddering breath that came with it broke my heart again. I moved so quickly, so urgently, until I was the one on my knees in front of him. I leaned into him, forcing our eyes to connect. His sun kissed skin was overheated, so I pressed my lips to the inside of his knee, watching him shiver.
“That was a magic all your own,” I said.
The truth was out now, hanging over us like a death knell. Owen flopped back on my bed, and sighed. “What do we do now?”
“Now, I have to find a way for me to save your life instead of taking it. Because I can’t, and I won’t.”
“But what about your tribe? Your family? ” He put so much emphasis on the word family . Another reminder that Owen, save for a few other humans, was completely alone in this world. Another reason he was chosen.
“There has to be another way. I need to get back to the water, to see if I can find a way.”
“How long?” he asked.
“Four more days.” He dragged a hand across his face, and I was still on the floor, kneeling.
“Then we make the most of it, and when the time comes, I’ll follow you.”
“Owen, no. I won’t let you–”
“It’s my life, Merrow.”
“No!” I shouted, and he startled. “This is not the way, it can’t be!” I was still shouting and he bolted up to hug me. His warmth and his scent–ocean spray and sunlight and a subtle, soft mint–soothed the storm in me, but I wasn’t going to let this comfort dull my resolve.
“Let me help. You said our myths were your histories. So, let’s go to the library. Let’s see if we can find something.”
“I–” He tilted my chin up and kissed me. It was more urgent than before, like he felt the sands of time flowing away from us now, knowing that these moments would soon be gone.
“Come on, we’ll do this together. ”
“Together,” I repeated, and something warm and safe bubbled in my chest. Something like… love.