Club Blue, a nightclub housed in a building that Manx described as an Art Deco masterpiece, sat along the strip in South Beach. While I was not interested in human architecture, the third-floor office where Manx was meeting with two armed mermen had a fabulous ocean view just across the street. It was already midday, and the sun was high in the sky. I watched the scantily clad human women, over-muscular men, and sagging elderly humans moving across the beach. They were so excited to be by the ocean. It surprised me. I hadn’t known humans could love the sea as I did, could relish playing among the waves. It perplexed me. Humans were strange creatures. Those I’d ever gotten close to usually did something wretched to our world. These people, however, were not unlike us.
I touched the sun-warmed glass. The human children were joyful and happy to come to the seaside. They squealed with excitement, running along the surf on chubby little legs, laughing joyfully when the waves broke against them. Who knew humans were capable of such joy?
“Would you like to try coffee?” Pangi asked, pushing a cup of steaming black liquid toward me.
I shook my head. The smell of the liquid nauseated me, but the others seemed to have adapted. Pangi had been toting around a mug of the drink with her since she woke. Even Manx was sipping a cup, careful not to spill any on his crisp, white shirt.
“I’ll find you something else then,” Pangi said, then drifted away. She seemed distracted.
My skin itched, and my whole body ached. I felt like I was drying out. In centuries past, mers used to spend more time on land. We interacted more freely with humans. Now, our movements were limited. It was decreed that we were safer under the waves. Maybe we’d done ourselves a disservice. Would it be better if we spent more time on land? I wasn’t so sure how I felt about it anymore.
I sat down at Manx’s desk. He was sitting on a couch across the room from me, talking to the armed mermen in low, earnest tones.
A moment later, Pangi returned. “Here you go,” she said, setting down the glass of water. “I’m going downstairs to the kitchens to bring you and Manx breakfast.” Her hair looked even rosier in the bright sunlight than the night before.
Propping my elbows on the desk, I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes. The sunlight was giving me a headache. When I pulled my hands away, my elbows pushed some papers across Manx's desk, causing the glass to wobble. I grabbed it, but not before some water spilled.
I looked up. Manx hadn’t noticed. Something told me he wouldn’t be pleased. I grabbed a napkin from a nearby tray and cleaned up the water. Papers shifted from a closed folder to reveal a pile of photographs. All of the photos were of Hal. There were pictures of him coming in and out of a pink building, and a neon blue sign shone the name of the place: Space Coast Billiards. They’d also taken pictures of him getting onto a motorcycle and one fuzzy photograph of him disappearing into a river half-transformed. His eyes glimmered strangely in the image. Under the pictures, I spotted some faded and yellowing documents and a crumbling map of the Indian River Lagoon near Cocoa Beach. Sections of the map had been highlighted. I picked up a black and white photo of a pier extending into the ocean. Underneath, the date 1962 had been noted alongside the word Oceanus.
“Find something interesting?” Manx asked, setting his hand on my shoulder. He took the photo from my hand and set it face-down on the desk.
“I’m so sorry,” I said as sweetly as possible. “I spilled water on your desk. I was just cleaning it up when I spotted that old photo. Humans are so inventive, building piers just so they can be closer to the sea. Look how they all flock to the ocean,” I said, motioning toward the humans on the beach outside, moving Manx’s attention away from the photo of Hal. “They don’t even know what lies at the heart of the deep.” I looked up at him and smiled. I could tell by the expression on his face that I had pulled it off.
“Let them stay blind. All the better for us.” Manx kissed the back of my head, then turned to reorganize his desk, sliding the photos of Hal back into the folder. He handed me the glass of water. “You must be very thirsty.”
“Thank you.” Why did Manx have photos of Hal? What the hell was going on? “Who were those men?” I asked, glancing at the armed mermen who were, their meeting adjourned, leaving.
“My guards. Gulf mermen who I trust. They are tracking down our renegade mers. At least half of the suffocators have suddenly gone missing.”
“How do you know they are renegade? What if something terrible has happened to them?”
Manx raised an eyebrow. He wore an expression that told me he hadn’t expected me to ask questions. “We’ve had reports. Some have been spotted…well, where they should not be. Our people need stronger leadership, the leadership we—you and I—must bring. We must change our ways, escape the sea, and recapture our power on land. No more hiding under the deep. It’s time for the sharks to come out of the water.” Manx stared off into the distance, a worrisome glimmer in his eyes. He then took hold of my arms and looked into my eyes, his eyes bulging wide as he stared at me with such intensity it made me nervous. “You’ll help me. The mamiwata said you have great power. Whatever it is, you will use your power to help me. We will rule over the humans, and more…so much more.”
“Manx? Ink? I have breakfast,” Pangi called with a singsong as she entered the room carrying a large tray. “Scottish salmon, Ink. You’ll actually like it, I hope.”
Manx let me go. I realized then that he’d been squeezing my arms so tightly that they’d started to bruise.
Shaking off the strange zeal overtaking him, Manx crossed the room to meet Pangi. “Looks beautiful,” he said, examining the tray. “Come eat, my mermaid. The clock is ticking, and you have a big day.” Pangi set the tray down on the table, and Manx dropped himself into a seat.
I looked at his desk and saw one photo of Hal lying forgotten on the desktop. The picture had been taken at night. He was standing outside Space Coast Billiards. He was smoking a cigarette, the red flame illuminating his handsome face. I picked up the photograph and stuffed it into my pocket. I then plastered on a fake smile and went to eat breakfast with my fiancé, a man whose wild eyes and words worried me to the depths of my soul.