The Mermaid's Curse (California Mermaids Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter Eleven: Oceania

As soon as I hit the water, Amelie’s beautiful dress and the strange undergarments weigh me down in a tangled mess. I tear them off, wriggling out of them just as my legs prickle and merge into a tail, blossoming with scales and fins almost instantly. There is no burning sensation as there was when I morphed into a human. Ula once told me that the shift from mermaid to human is much more difficult and painful than the reverse, since we are leaving our natural element.

I have a fleeting thought that Amelie might be angry with me for destroying her clothing, and I should’ve removed it before I launched myself into the sea, but I just wasn’t thinking straight when Xavier’s lips were pressed against mine.

Xavier likes me! He kissed me, knowing that it would entail coming with me to my world, for my birthday celebration.

And what a kiss it was, my first ever. Ula told me that kisses can be beautiful and sweet when they’re with the right merman, but as slimy as an old codfish with the wrong one. She’s never kissed a human, though.

I’m glad that my first kiss was with a human; it was everything that Ula described and more. Xavier’s lips had felt so right; as his warm, soft mouth had landed on mine, I’d felt almost unable to breathe from the sheer thrill.

I glance at him now, paddling frantically alongside me. Even though I filled him with the enchanted breath of life, giving him the ability to breathe and adjust his body temperature underwater just like a mermaid or merman, it appears that he can’t believe what has happened. His brown eyes are wide with shock, and he clutches my hand as though he’s terrified of letting go.

“It’s okay,” I mouth. “You’re protected. I’ll never let you go.”

Xavier slows his panicky kicks. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, little bubbles floating out of his mouth.

I have always admired the majestic beauty of the deep sea, but everything seems more magnificent with this man at my side. Now that Xavier has relaxed, he and I pause to watch a school of colorful fish, and he kisses me again, this time on the cheek.

Then, we reach the village of Mar. We swim past King Triteus’s grand castle, which is constructed entirely of gold doubloons and gemstones dropped years ago by pirates. The golden gates shut it off from the villagers, and Xavier makes a face when he realizes we can’t go inside.

I lead Xavier through Mar, gesturing to the homes of my friends. By the time we reach my little house on the ocean floor, Xavier’s eyes are nearly popping out of his head from all that he’s seen.

My house is relatively simple; my father used the remnants of a shipwreck to build it, and it’s constructed of wood, bound together with tough, durable seaweed, and studded with golden coins for decoration. Unlike Xavier’s house, where doors close off all the rooms from the outside and from each other, our home has only doorways, one to lead outside and others adjoining the rooms.

Inside the house, there are three sleeping chambers, one for my parents, one for me, and an empty one that used to belong to Ula. In the center of the house is a large living and dining room where my family gathers to chat, relax, and eat meals.

Now, my parents sit at the stone table in the central room. My mother is fidgeting, darting from side to side like a frightened guppy, and my father is frowning.

When Xavier and I appear in the doorway, they stop what they’re doing to stare at us.

“Hello,” I say brightly. “I’ve brought a friend for my birthday celebration. This is Xavier. He was kind enough to give me a tour of the surface world, and I wanted to extend the favor underwater.”

I glance from Xavier, who floats next to me, kicking his legs back and forth nervously, to my parents, whose faces are as angry as a stormy sky.

“Nice to meet you, Xavier,” Mother says. She gestures to the two empty seats and adds, “Please, sit down.”

As Xavier and I slide into our chairs, Mother shoots me a pointed glance. “What a surprise,” she says. “I had no idea that you would be bringing a human to breakfast.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Xavier says, extending his hand. She looks at it with a raised eyebrow for a moment, before she realizes that she is to shake it.

Xavier smiles and holds his hand out to Father next, but Father makes no move to follow the human custom. Xavier’s outstretched hand hangs suspended awkwardly in the water, and Father says, “It is very…interesting to meet you. We’ve never had a human in our house before.”

Xavier flushes bright red and drops his hand to his side, while I chew my lower lip. I really hadn’t been thinking clearly when I’d taken Xavier here. I should’ve known that my parents wouldn’t welcome him with open arms—they’re overprotective after all, especially about mixing with humans.

I lean back in my seat, rolling my shoulders backward and forward to relieve the tension. But it’s no use—I’m definitely in trouble.

Chapter Twelve: Xavier

Oceania and I had such fun during our swim to the bottom of the ocean, frolicking among the colorful fish and admiring the coral and glistening green seaweed. And I couldn’t stop staring at my surroundings as she gave me a tour of her village; the castle of King Triteus, which was entirely made of gold and gemstones, looked like something out of the lost city of Atlantis.

It’s amazing how one’s perspective on life can change so suddenly. Yesterday, I never would’ve imagined that such a trek was possible; it goes against everything science and common sense would tell me. The water was frigid, yet my body temperature somehow regulated after the initial shock of the plunge. And, oddly enough, I had this incredible capacity to breathe and even talk underwater for what seemed like hours.

Oceania really hadn’t been joking about the power of a mermaid’s kiss. But she’d omitted the fact that it would make me fall for her, completely and utterly. As we float through the open front door of her house, I have the sudden and ridiculous hope that her family likes me, because I have a feeling that I will be seeing a lot more of her. I
must
see a whole lot more of her.

Oceania’s house is small and simple, made of wood and seaweed; inside, she leads me into a parlor of sorts. There, a merman and a mermaid, whom I assume are her parents, sit at a stone table topped with a mosaic of shimmering abalone shells.

The table holds a smorgasbord of seafood and seaweed on cracked plates that look like they probably came from a shipwreck, but no one is eating anything.

Oceania introduces me around with false brightness, and her mother shakes my hand. But when I try to do the same with her father, he glares at me. His moonbeam hair and pale sea-glass eyes are a stark contrast to the dark expression on his face; he’s as terrifying as he is beautiful. Both he and his wife appear to be scarcely older than their daughter. Is this how it is among mermaids and mermen? Do they stop aging at 25?

I look to Oceania for cues, but she sinks back into her chair, rolling her shoulders back and forth. She won’t look at me, or at her parents.

Finally, her mother speaks up. “So, Xavier, we were just about to eat Oceania’s favorite birthday breakfast, kelp and tuna. Can I offer you anything from the table?”

I’m torn between the desire to be polite and my overall repulsion at the food in front of us. I’ve certainly never eaten seaweed before, and the fish is entirely raw. I adore fresh-caught fish—when it’s baked, or perhaps fried or broiled. But there’s no way I’m eating this. Mermaids are apparently equipped to eat food like this, but I’m not. I doubt that Oceania’s mermaid powers will protect me from a parasite, or something equally disgusting.

So, I fake a smile and say, “I’m not really hungry, but I will have a small bit of seaweed, thank you.”

Oceania’s mother dishes a generous portion onto a plate for me, and I wince internally. I use an old fork that’s missing a tine to pick up a single strand of the seaweed, and pop it into my mouth, fighting the urge to gag.

A moment later, however, I’m pleasantly surprised to notice that the kelp is quite flavorful, and has a chewy texture. “Why, this is delicious,” I say without even thinking. I look at Oceania. “I can see why this is one of your favorites.”

Oceania smiles at me, and so does her mother. “I must admit,” the mer-mother says, “you have good taste, for a land boy. The kelp is one of our finest delicacies, and I prepared it with a special sea-salt marinade. I’m glad you appreciate it. Most land people wouldn’t.”

How would she know, I wonder. Her husband just said that they’d never had humans in the house before. But I keep the thought to myself, and instead feel thankful for the fact that I have, just possibly, started to win over Oceania’s mother. I hazard a glance at Oceania’s father, and see that he is still glowering at me, his thick blond brows low over his eyes.

Hmmm. The way to Oceania’s mother’s heart is by praising her cooking. But how can I get into her father’s good graces?

Chapter Thirteen: Oceania

The atmosphere during breakfast is stilted and uncomfortable. Xavier eats every last bit of the seaweed that Mother has served him, and tries so hard to keep some conversation going that I actually feel sorry for him. I know that I should be helping him, but I feel myself withdrawing further and further, like a hermit crab hiding in its shell. I hadn’t realized that my parents, especially my father, would be so unwelcoming to Xavier, and I have no idea what to do about it.

At the end of the meal, Xavier rubs his stomach and says, “Well, that was delicious. It was a pleasure sharing a meal with you. But now, I must go. My father is waiting for me on land.”

Father speaks at last, his voice as rumbly and threatening as thunder over the water. “As it should be,” he says.

Xavier swallows hard, and I scowl at Father. I don’t understand why he has to be so rude; Xavier may be a land boy, but he certainly isn’t going to hurt me. His gentle heart has shone through ever since we met.

And I don’t want Xavier to leave yet, for purely selfish reasons. It’s my birthday, after all, and I want to spend as much time with him as possible. So, I tell my parents, “Xavier is a wonderful musician. Perhaps we can play and sing together on the sea harp, before he must go back to land.”

Xavier glances at me, his eyes sparkling. “I’d love that.” He turns toward my parents, and adds, “If it’s all right with you, of course…”

My father nods. “By all means,” he says, his voice as cool as arctic waters. He looks at Xavier dismissively, and I can tell that he’s already underestimating Xavier’s phenomenal talent. Mermen can be that way; many of them, my father included, seem to think that their special powers and immortality render them superior to the land people. My father has always told me that there’s really no reason to mix with humans.

I float over to the sea harp, which sits in the corner of the room, and begin plucking the strings delicately, remembering the strains of Xavier’s
Sonata of the Mermaid
.

I close my eyes, singing tones with no words, and the music takes on an ebb and flow of its own as Xavier joins in, the silky baritone of his voice blending with my bell-like soprano.

The music is so simple, yet so elegant. I force my eyes open as it surges to a high crescendo, reminiscent of the waves that crashed on the rocks when I surfaced last night for the first time. Xavier’s eyes are closed, but his bronzed skin glistens as if it’s lit from within. My parents stare at us transfixed, as though they’ve fallen under a spell.

As the music gradually fades away, my parents sit there frozen for a moment. Father, oddly enough, is the first to speak.

“Well, daughter,” he says finally. “It seems that you have found your special talent.”

I smile. “That’s what Xavier said. But isn’t it odd that I’ve played the sea harp for years, but we never identified it as such?”

“It is odd,” Mother agrees. “You’ve always sung and played beautifully, but your music is amplified when it combines with Xavier’s spirit and voice.”

Father snorts, shaking his head. “Think about what you’re suggesting, Marella. A special talent becoming evident only when you combine it with that of a human? Why would this even happen? It’s impossible.”

But Mother lays a slender white hand on his arm and says, “Remember the bloodline, the heritage. Perhaps it is undeniable.”

My father’s eyes widen, and I glance from him to my mother, wondering what they know that I don’t.

Chapter Fourteen: Xavier

“W-w-what are you talking about?” Oceania asks. “What bloodline? What heritage?”

Oceania’s parents turn to each other, conferring under their breath. I can’t make out much of what they say, except her father’s heated whisper, “We can’t tell her in front of that land boy,” and Marella’s response, “Delmar! You’re being rude.”

I swallow hard. This scene is just too uncomfortable for words, and besides, I really should be going. Right now, Father is probably drinking his morning coffee and impatiently asking where his lazy lump of a son is, so we can set sail on his fishing boat. I glance at my pocket watch, and realize with dismay that it didn’t survive the long voyage to the bottom of the ocean. It’s full of water, and has stopped ticking.

“Maybe I should just go,” I mumble, but Oceania reaches out for my hand and holds on tightly.

“Please don’t,” she says, her soft, pink lips quivering.

“All right. I’ll stay.” I’m surprised by how much I care about this mermaid, whom I’ve known for a grand total of seven hours. This is a new sensation for me; I’ve never felt so concerned about a girl before.

Finally, Oceania’s parents turn to us. Marella says, “Xavier, can you please leave us?”

“I want him to stay,” Oceania protests, but Delmar just shakes his head.

I push myself up from the table. “Um, it’s okay,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’ll go. I can see that this is a family discussion.”

Marella nods. “Thank you for understanding. We’ll leave you to say your goodbyes.” She and Delmar swim out of the parlor, probably retiring to their room, and Oceania and I finally have some much-needed privacy.

My heart breaks for Oceania when she looks at me hopelessly. I’d never thought that a mermaid’s tears would be visible underwater—in fact, I’d never thought about them much at all. But when she begins to cry, her tears fluoresce a brilliant aquamarine color before they blend in with the deeper blue waters.

“I don’t want you to go, Xavier,” she says softly, running her hands up and down my arms. “I’m so afraid of what my parents will tell me, and I don’t want to face them alone.”

“Don’t be afraid. It’s just a family secret; we all have them. I wish I could stay with you, but we’ll see each other again, and you can tell me all about it.”

“You promise we’ll see each other again?”

“Of course.” I toy with her wet, silky hair, aching to stay with her longer, and dreading our imminent separation.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Oceania says, and then, she kisses me again.

This kiss is not soft and sweet, like our first; it’s full of heat and raw passion. Her lips are assertive and somewhat rough, and again, I feel that tingling sensation in my throat, windpipe, and lungs. The intense kiss leaves me wanting more, but I know there is another purpose as well; she is working her magic once again, fortifying me for the long swim back to the surface. 

Squeezing my hand, she leads me out of the house. Using her powerful tail, she propels us through the village, and up what seems like thousands of feet of total blueness. I kick my legs a little to try and help out, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t need assistance.

Finally, we break the surface, and I gasp in a huge breath of salty air. The clouds have thickened, and a gray layer obscures the sky. The wind has picked up, and the waves are higher now, slamming against the rocks tempestuously. The sudden gloominess of the day fits my mood exactly.

As we draw closer to shore, I hold my breath, feeling my heart pumping faster. How are we ever going to navigate the waves of the Restless Sea? I consider myself a fairly adventurous person, but I can’t stop the visions of Oceania and me crashing against the rocks of Point Joe in a bloody, mangled mess.

Oceania is panting hard as we ride the waves closer and closer to the rocks. “Whatever you do, don’t let go,” she says.

Today truly has been a day for leaps of faith, and it’s still early morning. Gritting my teeth, I nod, and whether it’s right or wrong, I trust this mermaid completely with my life.