“You look sad – sad that Oli’s got a new playmate? She looks disconcertingly like Viola, I have to say. The perfect fucking couple,” he seethes. “That’s why I wasn’t on the boat that day, little Gracie. I couldn’t stand the idea of spending yet another afternoon with them, watching him slobbering all over her. Everyone pretending that they were so well suited when she was too good for Oli, she was always too good for him. She could have taken over the world if she had wanted to. She graduated first in her class, did you know that?”
I did not. Mermaids were not permitted to attend school in the kingdom. A waste of time, my father said. For what need would wives and mothers have of education? We would have our husbands to do our thinking for us.
“And Oli, he just…” Rupert’s jaw tightens. “If he wasn’t a Carlisle then Viola would never have even looked at him. Money and power, that’s the only things you whores seem to care about.” He stares at me as if only just remembering that I’m still there. He crouches down. “Is that why you liked him too?” My heart feels as if it is pumping too much blood into my body; it is ferocious. “So odd,” he says, grabbing my arms and dragging me to standing. “The way we found you on that beach, nearly a year to the day after Oliver washed up there. That’s what happened to his father too. Isn’t that a coincidence? Alexander’s boat was wrecked, and when they found him, he was raving about a girl who saved him. A girl who came from the sea, Oli’s old man said. He named this boat after her, the story goes. The Muireann.” He pushes my hair back and my throat clenches at his touch. I don’t want him anywhere near me. “Utterly mad, of course, and there was a lot of talk. You know how people like to gossip. Eleanor put him in that mental hospital to try and stop it and Oliver never forgave her, Jesus, he wouldn’t stop banging on and on about it, it got boring pretty quickly. What did he expect Eleanor to do? His father was a raving lunatic and she had to make sure Alexander wouldn’t do any damage to himself.” He snorts. “Or to the Carlisle name. She’s canny, is that Eleanor. But there was no keeping Alexander Carlisle locked up.”
I can’t move, my legs lifeless as a statue. I’m trapped here with Rupert, forced to listen. “Poor old Alexander Carlisle went back to the sea and he drowned himself.” Oliver’s father took his own life? Why did he not tell me that? “Giving Eleanor free rein to run the company and Oliver the perfect excuse to act like an asshole for the rest of his life.”
There is a silence and he rubs his hand across his face. “Anyway,” he says. “Enough of that. The past is in the past. It’s just you and me now, isn’t it? Whatever shall we do to pass the time?” His hand trails down my arm, then on to the skirt of my dress, inching it up a little. “Don’t be so coy,” he says. “I’ve seen the way you look at Oliver, like you’re a bitch on heat. There’s no need to pretend that you’re some innocent virgin.” He presses his lips against my ear, sticking the tip of his tongue into it, like Zale used to, and my stomach flips over, pushing vomit up my throat like a promise.
My mouth is open, searching for my voice – please. Please help me. But there is no help coming, and no sound save for Rupert’s heavy breathing. He backs me into the wall, pressing his body against mine until my spine feels like it might crack. Undoing his belt, and a silent sob breaks from me at what is to come. He will finish what Zale started. “You’ll like this,” he says. A hand reaching down, pulling up my skirt, Rupert’s fingers prodding that new place between my legs. No. No. But I cannot speak and worse, I cannot move. I am motionless, petrified; watching this man as he takes my body and does what he wants with it. My words are trapped tight in my throat, frozen, turning my limbs to stone.
Little mermaid.
Rupert is grunting, fumbling. He will take what he wants from me and he will destroy me as he does so.
Be brave, little mermaid.
Brave? I push Rupert off me, and he trips, trousers caught around his ankles. “You tease,” he says. I turn left, right, the frenzy of dread making me clumsy and stupid, running to the end of the boat but there is nowhere for me to escape to – unless I dive into the sea as cleanly as if I was diving into my nightmares.
There will be no protection there. The Sea Witch told me, she warned me. There is no going back.
Little mermaid, we are here.
Where are those voices coming from? Am I going mad, like Oliver’s father? Is my sanity as lost to me as my voice is? Will they find me knee-deep in salt water, knuckle-white, mouthing words I will never be able to hear again?
“Where do you think you’re going?” Rupert says, pulling his trousers up. He is walking towards me, oh, so slowly. He is in no rush. He is standing in front of me now, his lips almost touching mine. He leans in to kiss the bare skin of my throat, ignoring my uncontrollable shaking. “Just relax, Grace.”
Little mermaid. The hissing words are louder now, demanding my attention. They sound … wet. I look over Rupert’s shoulder to find dozens of eyes staring at me from the dead of the water. They emerge, green hair slicked back, mouths open. The Rusalkas. The fallen women with arms outstretched, ready for their prey.
“Woah,” Rupert says as I push him against the side of the boat, kissing him forcefully. “Easy, tiger.” His tongue invades my empty mouth. “So strange,” he mutters. “There’s just nothing there…” I allow my fingers to dip beneath the waistband of his trousers as I had seen Flora do to Oliver earlier, and Rupert relaxes, his grip softening just enough for me to gather my strength. For I am Muirgen, daughter of Muireann of the Green Sea. I am Gaia, of the earth. And no one treats me in such a manner.
“Jesus!” His face gnarling in wide-eyed panic as he falls, his arms flailing for something to grab on to. The cry as he hits the water, hard, his body flinching. He resurfaces in a splashing fury. “You little—”
Then he sees the first Rusalka and his double-take of shock is nearly comical. These are creatures that he has not given credence to since he was a small child on his mother’s lap, listening as she spun stories to help him sleep. Monsters or mermaids? Maybe the Rusalkas are both. And maybe, in the end, they are neither.
Salka by Salka, they rise from the water, surrounding him in a circle, baring pointed teeth.
“Grace. Grace, help me. Get someone,” Rupert begs. “Anyone!” he shouts when I stay where I am. The Rusalkas pull a tighter ring around Rupert, wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders, heads thrown to the skies, music slashing from their throats. A song of betrayal, of broken promises. Jilted brides, and babies torn from wombs and imprisoned girls put to work in institutions, locked away by men who were supposed to be holy, men who told those same girls that they must atone for their sins of lust. (Tell me about your impure actions, my child, they whispered in dark corners, trying not to drool with anticipation. Tell me in great detail about what you have done, and I shall grant you absolution.)
Rupert is weeping as their song turns to a searing shriek, the windows in the yacht shattering and falling in shards of glass around my feet. Blood dribbles down Rupert’s nose and his eyes start to cry tears of blood too. One of the Salkas breaks rank, Rupert’s head between her clawed hands, licking his tears away, red tarred across her mouth. Then he screams no more.
I slump to the ground, shaking, my legs too weak to hold me any longer. What would I have done if the Salkas hadn’t come to my rescue, if they hadn’t smelled a bad man’s rapacious appetite? I was so stupid to come here, to give up everything that I have ever known, ever loved, in an attempt to seduce a human man. A man I didn’t know, a man that I had seen once and decided would be the answer to all of my problems. Perhaps my father was right. I am just a stupid little mermaid.
My hands touch my throat. I will never hear my voice again. I stare at the sky. The light is turning and the moon slipping, calling her lover, the sun, to take her place. I use the rail at the side of the boat to drag myself to standing again and I begin to cry. I have no words in this world above the sea but I will spell out the alphabet with my tears.
A
head in the water (Have the Salkas come back?) then another. And another, another, another. No green manes this time, but clean skulls; hair plucked as finely as the kitchen maids pluck a chicken for yet another one of Eleanor’s interminable parties. I strain to see, waiting until they swim closer and I can see features etched on those pale faces. Eyes so blue and lips so red. And then I realize who these maidens are.
“Muirgen,” one of them says, and I squint at her to figure out that it’s Talia. I had forgotten how homogeneous the mer-folk could appear. My father wants us all to look the same, act the same, think the same; and I just accepted that as natural. Why did I never understand how boring it was? And how stifling? Why did none of us realize that there could be strength in our differences as much as our similarities? “What have you done to yourself?” Talia asks when she sees me, her eyes wide in horror.
“You’ve caused so much trouble,” Arianna says. “Father is furious. He and Zale have been planning—” She looks over her shoulder as if expecting our father to be there, like all of us do. “But he’s right, of course,” she says. “The Sea King is always right. For he is wise and good. We are fortunate to be living in the time of the Sea King.”
My sisters are thinner, the bones pronounced in their faces. They’re nervous, speaking quickly and yet choosing their words with a deliberation that is unusual. I look past them, searching for the other face that I want to see before I die. “Grandmother is not here,” Sophia says, understanding instantly. “She would have felt obliged to tell Father, and there’s no telling what he might do if he heard we went to the Sea Witch.”
You went to the Sea Witch? I shake my head. I cannot believe my sisters would do such a thing.
“Our father would be right to be angry,” Cosima says. “What would he think if he knew we had left the Shadowlands looking as we do? His daughters, ugly.”
They’re not ugly, exactly, but they do look rather strange. Huge eyes in pale faces, veins skimming blue over fine boned skulls. Why have you done this to yourselves? I touch my own head, then point at theirs in question.
“Oh, Muirgen,” Sophia says. “It’s true what Ceto said. You have sacrificed your voice.” Her own quakes, as if she’s holding back tears. “How could you do such a thing?”
“Forget her voice,” Talia says, trying to peer over the side of the boat. “I want to see these human legs that you so desired.” I wave her off, humiliated at the thought of my sisters seeing my ruined feet. “I cannot understand the fascination myself, when our tails are beautiful.”
“She was in love,” Cosima says, her eyes downcast. She says it oh so quietly, as if she has come to a new understanding. That love is painful, love is someone harrowing out your chest and throwing your heart away as if it is of no value. I know, I want to tell her. I know why you did it. I know that you sent me to Ceto because you wanted me out of the way.
“Yes, she was,” Sophia says. “Love can make you foolish.”
“And what do you know of love, sister? You’re not even betrothed,” Talia says to Sophia. “Not like…” She looks at Cosima and she falters. “Not like Nia and Marlin,” Talia rushes on. “They’re perfect for one another.”
Nia’s weak smile, wobbling when Talia isn’t looking. I remember those two girls on the boat, their obvious delight in one another. I wish I had my voice. You are not unnatural, I would tell her. Love is never unnatural, no matter whom you decide to give it to.
“Oh, Muirgen,” Talia continues. “It has been such a mess these four weeks since you left us.”
“A complete disaster,” Arianna says.
“Yes,” Talia says, frowning at Arianna. “There were many rumours at the beginning. Father was furious with Grandmother, he said that she had neglected her duties, he said…” She wavers, unable to repeat the words that the Sea King chose to berate our grandmother with. Grandmother is in trouble because of me. “He had the right to be angry, of course.”
“Yes,” my sisters chorus and I cringe. Was I like this too, when I lived in the kingdom? “Praise the Sea King.”
“Father initially thought that you had been kidnapped by the Salkas,” Talia tells me. “Zale left with a band of warriors, capturing the first greenhead they could find and strapping her to the dining table in the palace with rinds of seaweed.” I can picture it, a group of men surrounding the struggling Salka.
“She was livid,” Arianna says. “But she confessed in the end, told us that you had…”
“That you had gone to the Sea Witch voluntarily,” Talia says, her forehead creasing, as if my reasons for doing so remain incomprehensible to her.
I remember the night I left, the utter despair driving me forward to the Shadowlands, any destiny preferable to the one awaiting me in the kingdom. Even death. Talia would never understand.
“And you asked her to give you two human stumps to walk upon the earth with.” Talia takes an unsteady breath. “Father was so angry,” she whispers.
“Sisters,” Nia says, one hand over her eyes as she faces the horizon. “We do not have much time left. There is perhaps fifty minutes before the sun has fully risen.”
“Muirgen,” Sophia says, and tears prick my eyes at the sound of my own name. I did not think I would hear it again before I died. “The five of us went to the Sea Witch and we begged for her help. She has granted mercy on us.” She gives a haunted smile and dread creeps over me. What did the Sea Witch do to them? “Granted mercy on you, I mean,” Sophia finishes.
“We had to give her our hair, though,” Cosima mutters.
“I don’t know why you’re the one complaining,” Talia says. “It was your idea to go to the Sea Witch in the first place. You said that she was the only one who could help us, that no one else would know how to save Muirgen.” Cosima meets my gaze shamefacedly, and I feel as if she is trying to tell me something. An explanation of sorts. An apology. An image of the two of us as small children, hand in hand, flashes in my mind; sparkling with a beautiful intensity. I look away, allowing it to shatter. Too much has happened now. There is too much to forgive and I am afraid I do not know where to begin.
“So, yes, we went to the Sea Witch,” Talia continues. “What an expedition! I don’t know how you went alone. It was very brave of you.” She looks at me with something akin to admiration, an expression I am unused to seeing on my sisters’ faces. “But Ceto wasn’t as terrifying as we thought,” she says, the rest of my sisters nodding in agreement. “It seemed like she wanted to help us, actually. We had to sacrifice our hair, of course. But she granted us this in return.” She lifts her hand out of the water, her fingers grasped tightly around the hilt of a dagger, steel glittering in the growing morning light. It is the same weapon that I saw in the Sea Witch’s cabin, the one she used to stir the magic potion with. “This is going to save you.”
How?
“You must go to this man,” Sophia tells me, as if reading my mind. “Immediately.”
And what should I do when I find him?
I am so tired.
“Muirgen. Muirgen, listen to me. When you find him…” Sophia says, demanding my attention. “Gaia, you have to…”
“You must take the blade,” Arianna says with relish. She is our father’s daughter, that one; she’s always enjoyed a story with gore. “And rip the human’s chest apart with it, using the tip of the blade to spear his beating heart. The blood that spills must drip on to those human feet of yours, and your scales will reappear, and then your tail. Like magic.”
“Like magic,” Talia repeats.
I picture myself doing as they have suggested, Oliver’s eyes opening when the blade pierces his flesh, screaming for mercy. I take a step back from them, a hand over my mouth in case I am sick.
“This is the only way, Muirgen,” Talia says.
“She will not be able to do it,” Cosima says as I stare down at them in shock.
“You must,” Sophia says urgently. “Muirgen, you must. This isn’t about you any longer. Zale is gathering t
he troops, placing spears in the hand of every mer-man; child and grandfather alike. You…” Something crosses her face that I cannot decipher, but which leaves me chilled. “You don’t understand what things have been like for us since you left.”
“Zale is only doing what he thinks is necessary,” Cosima says, but her usual defiance has been markedly dampened. “We are bonded now, Zale and I,” she says to me, a quiver in her voice. What will Zale do to you when he sees your bald skull? She is thin and pale, like the others, but there is a light sprinkling of bruises down her arms. Nothing too conspicuous. Nothing that would draw attention. But I see it. And I know. Oh, Cosima.
“Forty-five minutes…” Nia says, still counting the seconds in the sky.
Talia swims closer to the boat, her hand holding the blade out towards me. I cannot do this. You cannot expect me to commit such a deed.
“Muirgen,” Sophia says again when I bend over, hands pushed into my stomach as if I’m trying to prevent my body from falling apart. “Muirgen. We cannot return without you. Father has, he has…”
“Father has been very angry,” Cosima says. They stare up at me, their eyes flat. And I wonder what the Sea King has done to them. Cosima grabs the blade from Talia and reaches as high as she can. “You must do this, Gaia.”
“Forty-four minutes,” Nia says.
I take the blade. The handle is made of onyx, encrusted with ink-black jewels which resemble octopus eyes. It would be easy to tear someone apart with this, follow the route of their spine. The weight of it in my hands is shocking, somehow; the power it suggests. I like it, I am surprised to find. I want more of it.