A Mermaid's Cry

Chapter 57-A Haunting Memory

I do not let my gaze wander from the stranger, not even for a moment as he leads me along amidst the other dancing couples. The air around me growing uncomfortably warm, the close proximity of bodies, the brush of cloth against my dress, the narrow brushes with extravagant masks, and the touch of the stranger's gloved hand in the center of my back, only adds to the unease skittering across my skin.

"I must say, the color of your garment reminds me of something from my childhood," the stranger utters, catching me off guard as he spins me around in a slow arc across the floor. "What would that be?" I quickly say, my unease growing with each second that he holds me captive to the whims of the dancers and the music swirling around us.

"A special powder that lulled children into peaceful slumber," he drawls, pulling me closer to avoid me being bombarded by the swoop of a human's bejeweled hand. "The grains steeped into a drink so sweet, that the little ones could hardly detect the bitter taste. Unless they were to see their elders sprinkle the grounds into their cups, the specks like bits of gold so much like your dress and your scars."

Suddenly, he pulls away from me as we reach the edge of the dance floor. All too soon, I'm left frozen and confused as the edges of his blood red cape disappear into the crowd. Questions upon questions rattle through my skull, my feet moving without direction or reason as his strange words repeat over and over again in my head. Only as I free myself from the masses of silks, feathers, and perfume, do I see myself reflected in one of the gilded mirrors upon the wall.

The candles on the walls, pool their light down around me. My dress appearing to be made of molten gold flowing down my body in waves of precious silk. Precious as the laughs of children, and their mutterings as they dream the sweetest things in the throes of slumber. All at once, as I stare at the scaled patches of my scars, I feel the festering all consuming grip of fear driving its icy needles into my flesh.

Horror rails into my heart like a cannon blast, utter despair morphing into a maelstrom all because I did not stop the stranger from leaving. The stranger who knew that my scales were scars, the stranger who described in detail a sleeping powder, only known to the Mer. A powder made from the petals of a rare flower, the Dreamer's Chalice, a gold hued plant that only grows in underwater caverns beneath the islands of the Southern Seas. But why would he tell me this? Why drag me away from my position by the window? Unless, he had danced with me to keep me from seeing outside onto the terrace. To lead me away from those I care about, to distract and deceive.

My body takes flight away from the mirror, my only thought besides dodging the innumerable amount of humans around, was to get to the terrace by any means necessary. I ignore the shrieks and indignant mutterings from the governor's guests. For there are far more important things to worry about than being pushed aside by a wild eyed female. Their cries of shock and annoyance, cannot overshadow the fact that another Mer is on this island. A Mer whose intentions are unknown to me, but his veiled threat, hidden behind musings of memory, fans the flames of utter despair encroaching upon my mind.

My vision is a blur, my eyes filling with tears as I run around a flock of giggling women with fluttering fans, and crash straight into Adila's waiting arms. "Corintha, what's wrong?" my friend asks, worry shrouding her face as she takes in my cracking exterior and trembling limbs. "Odessa, Ares," I gasp, trying in vain to control the shaking of my voice as Octavia and Lucas appear next to Adila. "Are they still out talking on the terrace?"

"I think so, but-," I'm already moving before she can finish, my hands hiking up my skirts above my knees, running as if there were a wrathful boar out for my heated flesh. Reaching the pair of glass doors, I shove them open with all my might and rush out onto the terrace. A crunching sound instantly emits from beneath my feet, as my gaze falls upon Odessa, lying prone upon the stones with a bleeding gash in the side of his head.

My world goes silent, onlookers circle around the doors, while a stream of white jacketed males, pour out onto the terrace and quickly carry the Captain's body inside. Gasps of horror emit all around, while the even tone of the governor meeting out orders and gentle assurances, becomes distant and muddled. No other bodies lie upon the stones, only the signs of a struggle and the sickenly sweet stench of spilled drinks. No sign of my cousin's brown hair, Zola's burnished skin, or the mischievous glint of Ares's emerald eyes.

My legs give way, my knees greeting the sharp edges of broken glass as Octavia and Adila swoop in to cradle my boneless body. I force down the sobs that wish to claw out of my throat, not wanting to cause the humans to panic further as hot waves of tears carve paths down my clammy skin. My misery all consuming and potent, bringing tears to my friends' eyes, drowning us all in an unending storm of tragedy and ruin. A feeling that morphs inside me as the tears finally stop after a handful of painful moments, my sorrow festering into an unrelenting need for vengeance.

I had thought everything would turn out right, for once in a long, long time, but again I was wrong. I glance down at the broken glass cups, broken like my freshly healed heart. Again, again another part of my soul has been taken. Gone, along with Zola's laughing smile, and the golden heart of my cousin.

Now I'm cast adrift, drowning in rage, grief, and a howling hunger for the blood of those responsible. Those who took the one soul I now cannot possibly live without. My mate, my male, my darkest love. Ares, the Mer I once hated and would now kill a whole fleet of Mer hunters, just to have him in my arms again.

The pain of it all claws and snarls inside me, breaking down wall after wall of iron control that I have carefully put up, to keep myself from scaring the entire room of humans watching me tremble and shake on the stone terrace. What a waste, a waste of playing the docile creature to be paraded in front of these weaklings. Stuffed into a costume that accenuates every part of me that is enchanting and graceful, hiding the deadly predator beneath with silk and lace trappings that are so easily broken.

Adila and Octavia sense the sudden change in my body, the stiffening of my spine, the subtleness of my limbs going still, the slowing of my breath, and the lengthening of my nails as they sharpen into flesh tearing points. I let them pull away from me, not wanting them or anyone else to be caught in my path as a wave of searing violent heat engulfs my mind and heart.

The rage bubbles and froths inside me, as I let the beastly unending power of the sea take hold. Allowing my lungs to expand, taking in a deep breath of salt tinged air, letting loose my fury and heartbreak into a shrieking gale of pain and loss. My screams echo through the humid breeze, shaking wooden frames of windows and doors, shattering glass, and sending all the birds on the island into the star spattered sky.

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With the moon hanging high above their heads, the band of hooded riders comes to a sudden halt at the very edge of the rutted dirt path, the soft ground giving way to the powdery terrain of the sandy shore. The breath from their horses, suffuses the air, mingling with the riders' own rushed breathing.

The flanks of the four horses drip with sweat, one from the hurried pace of its rider, while the others sag against the weight of their handlers, and the limp body behind each man. The three captives lost in the throes of sleep, their wrists and ankles bound with thick rope. Oblivious to the resounding piercing gale of a woman's enraged and sorrowful screams. A sound that sends shivers down all the men's spines, except for the lone rider. Their leader.

A man swathed in a cape the color of a reddened sky at dawn. His mask long forgotten, left to lie upon the steps of the govorner's grand mansion. "Don't worry gents," the man utters, gently stroking the neck of his mount as the scent of the other mens' fear enters his nostrils with the tang of salty sweat. "She will not harm any of us, not while we have what she treasures most."

The contempt in his voice is a thing the man does not hide, for the bubbling in his blood only feeds the hate flaring in his gaze. Eyes like the blue of the sea, narrowing with caged fury upon one of the bound men. His head dangling against the horses's flank, the snarled strands of his tar black locks fluttering in the warm evening breeze.

"The little witch will do anything I ask of her, to keep these wastes of breath alive."