The evening air was perfumed with flowers and the scent of wet earth. We wove down a narrow dirt road through the Everglades to meet the cecaelia. Outside, the frogs, crickets, and birds created a fantastic chorus of noise. I stuck my hand out the window to feel the warm air. The humidity made my skin feel dewy. I looked up at the stars. They looked much the same over land as they did at sea. The wetlands around me shimmered silver in the moonlight. Florida was such a wet place. No wonder our kind once felt comfortable coming and going as we pleased between land and sea. Florida was little more than a mottled mess of islands.
After more than an hour’s drive, we pulled into the parking lot of a dilapidated tavern. The sign overhead, in twinkling neon lights, read The Drunken Mermaid. An illuminated mermaid, her nipples illuminated by red lightbulbs that flashed on and off, was poised above the door. A sign read Live Mermaid Shows.
“What is a live mermaid show?” I asked as we crossed the parking lot.
The mermen guards laughed.
“You’ll see,” Manx told me with a grin.
I raised an eyebrow at Pangi, but she seemed distracted. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just…I got a little car sick. How about you? Are you okay? What a night, right?”
I nodded. What could I say? I was now Manx’s bonded one, queen of the Gulfs. It was done. What a night, indeed.
One of the guards pushed open the door to the tavern. Two guards stayed outside, their weapons drawn, while two others entered the tavern with us. Taking my hand, which Pangi had dutifully bandaged after the bonding ceremony, Manx led me inside.
The place had a slightly rancid smell, not unlike the scent of Club Blue. The tavern was very dark. The bar was lined with a dozen glassy-eyed men. Some stared absently into their drinks while others looked at the large glass wall behind the bar. It was an enormous aquarium. Inside, a girl dressed in a red halter top and a plastic mermaid tail swam to thudding rock music. Holding her breath, she spun and shimmied, her dark hair making a halo around her. This, apparently, was the live mermaid show.
The “mermaid” signaled to the bartender, who went down the line collecting dollars in a basket. After he’d made a haul, he showed it to the girl who winked at the men, blew them a kiss, and then pulled off her top. She pressed her breasts against the glass. The men, at least those who weren’t lost in the haze of alcohol, cheered with delight.
“Gross,” Pangi muttered under her breath.
Manx led us to the back. In the corner of the tavern, half hidden in darkness, I saw a woman sitting alone at a table. She was smoking a cigarette and observing us as we crossed the room. She had long white hair. Her skin was dark, her lips red. She nodded to Manx and then motioned for me to come forward.
“Go ahead, Ink,” Manx said, then turned to Pangi. “Let’s get a drink.” Leaving the guards standing post near me, Manx went to the aquarium wall and tapped on the glass. The “mermaid” swam to him, did an underwater flip, and blew him a kiss. He laughed loudly and shook his head in amusement. He motioned to Pangi to follow him.
“Come, Ink,” the cecaelia called. “You don’t need to be afraid.”
I was tired of people telling me what I should and shouldn’t fear. I crossed the room and came to stand before her. “My Lady,” I said respectfully, inclining my head toward her.
She laughed, nodded to me, and motioned for me to sit beside her. “I like your manners,” she said, then added, “but I expected no less from the daughter of Dauphin and Coral. Your parents had none of the engrained snobbery Creon feels toward my kind. It was they who sought to protect the last of us. Did you know that?”
I shook my head and then took a seat beside her.
The cecaelia gazed at Manx. “The Gulfs find me useful, but I only tell them what they want to hear. Otherwise, they’d have no patience with me either. They like for me to read their marks and tell them their fate. They’re believers. Now, you are their queen. But what about you, my dear? Do you believe your fate lies in your tribal mark?”
Her frankness caught me off guard. “I don’t know.”
“Well, let’s see this legendary mark of yours. Your mother once told me that you were born with marks all over your body, but they faded after a time.”
“That’s why they named me Ink.”
“Indeed it is. She asked me what it meant. I told her that it meant you were special.”
“And were you just telling her what she wanted to hear?”
The cecaelia laughed. “I like your wit as well, princess.” With gentle hands, the cecaelia helped me turn in my seat. She moved the hair away from my back and uttered a low “hum” as her finger traced the marks on my back. It sent a shiver down my spine.
“How did you learn to read tribal marks?” I asked her.
“In your grotto, princess, very long ago. My kind lives much longer than yours, you know. I was there during Princess Tigonea’s uprising. We lived among you in those days when mers sang the siren song. After Tigonea’s ruse, we were thrust out of the grotto, my kind, and so many others. The Atlantic king’s scouts hunted us to the edge of extinction. But not just us, all creatures who were not Atlantic mers, including the naguals.”
I could hear the bait in her voice. I wasn’t biting. “Why did they try to eliminate you?”
“We tried to help the princess. There is a prophecy, you know, about an Atlantic princess who will rise in power. We backed Tigonea because we thought she was the one,” the cecaelia said, then let go of my hair and leaned back. “But she wasn’t. You know, you have her eyes.”
I smiled at her. Cecaelias had a reputation as a tricksters, and I knew she was toying with me. It was fun to tangle with her, but I had a serious question for the seer. “And what do you see now?”
The cecaelia leaned in closely. “Oh, you’d like me to be honest, would you? I can respect that. The lies from all of those around you must batter against you like waves. Mermen are playing games,” she said, lifting her drink and tipping it toward Manx, who was flirting with the “mermaid” sitting on a barstool wrapped in a towel. “Your king wants what is not his. But his heart is in the right place, at least.”
“Oceanus? The Indian River Lagoon?”
The cecaelia lifted her cigarette, inhaled, and then nodded. “His people need a home. It is unfortunate, however, that Oceanus is already inhabited.”
“By the freshwater mers.”
“What is left of them. Of course, that’s nothing a little genocide can’t solve. In that matter, your king’s heart is…misplaced.”
“What can I do?”
“Oh, my dear,” she said, then took another sip of her drink, “if only it was so simple.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”
“Your father swore to protect Oceanus’ residents. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“And how do you know that?” It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at me.
She had me. I smirked at her. I don’t know how she knew, but she knew.
“Honor your father’s promise any way you can. It will not be easy. Not now. Not after tonight. But you must protect the innocent. You will, won’t you?”
“I will try.”
“No,” the cecaelia said as she rose. “No. You must. Any way you can. Let your heart guide you.”
Her words puzzled me. I was about to question her further when I heard a strange sound from the parking lot. Beyond belief, it was the sound of gunfire.
“Now it begins. Our hope lies in you,” the cecaelia said.
I turned to look back at Manx. A moment later, a group of men I recognized, suffocators who worked for Creon, entered, their guns blazing. With a quick blast, they took out the drunken humans. I heard a sharp wail as the pretty faux mermaid took a gunshot to the stomach. She crumpled to the floor, red blood pooling around her. Manx pulled a gun from his belt as one of the suffocators took aim at him. He shot the man between the eyes.
“Ink! Get down,” he called to me. He and his guards shot back, a firefight consuming the place.
I turned back in time to see the cecaelia morph into her half-octopus form. With her eight sticky black legs, she climbed up the side of the mermaid tank and then lowered herself into the aquarium. She motioned toward the back door, then disappeared out of sight.
“Pangi,” I called to the mermaid huddling under the table nearby as the two groups of mermen shot at one another. “This way!”
Pangi looked terrified, but finally, she came with me, moving as best she could in high heels. She skidded over the shards of glass and then headed with me toward the back door. I pushed the door open.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Manx?” she asked.
“Let’s get to the SUV,” I replied, but I saw what looked like a war zone when we turned the corner toward the parking lot. Manx’s guards had taken position behind a car and were shooting at a group of suffocators. Several bodies, both human and mer, lay in the parking lot.
“There,” I heard one of the suffocators yell. “There she is!” The merman, whom I’d seen several times at Creon’s side, raised his gun and fired at Pangi and me.
Moving quickly, I pulled Pangi behind a truck. The door to the bar clapped open, followed by more gunshots. I peered through the car window to see Manx and his guards taking aim at the suffocators. Two of Manx’s mermen already lay dead, the suffocators dropping in equal numbers. I scanned the group for Roald. He wasn’t there, nor were the two suffocators I’d seen with him at my welcome party. But I did recognize Creon’s men.
“Those are the king’s mermen! He must have sent them after Manx…after me!”
Pangi, who had a cut on her forehead, sat shaking and clutching her bag. She didn’t say a word.
“We need to find a way out of here. I think we can make it to the SUV. Come on,” I said. Grabbing her hand, I started weaving among the vehicles.
I scanned the parking lot and was shocked to see that all of Manx’s guards had been killed. Manx was trapped in the foyer of the bar. Creon’s suffocators fared no better. From what I could tell, there was only one still standing. The parking lot was littered with bodies. Pangi and I had just reached the SUV when I saw Manx step out to shoot the last of Creon’s men. The merman fell to the ground.
“Ink,” he called. “My queen!” He turned and rushed toward Pangi and me. I moved to meet him, crossing the parking lot toward him.
“Manx, are you hurt?” I called.
He shook his head. He had a sharp cut down his face, but otherwise, he looked okay. “We need to get out of here—” he started to say when I heard a gunshot…from behind me.
Seconds later, blood blossomed across Manx’s chest. It stained his white shirt. He froze.
In disbelief, I turned and looked behind me to see Pangi holding a gun.
Manx dropped to the ground. He still wore a shocked expression, but the light in his green-blue eyes had already started to dim. I kneeled beside him and collected him into my arms. He shuddered hard, blood erupting from between his lips, and reached out for me. “Creon,” he whispered, and then those striking eyes went dim.
“Manx?” I whispered.
“I told you not to trust anyone,” Pangi said.
The king of the Gulfs was gone. He had died in my arms. I stared at Pangi. “Why?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Because there can only be one ruler in Florida, and it’s not that piece of shit,” she said, motioning to Manx. “That’s for my grandfather, you blood-thirsty Gulf,” she spat at the dead merman. “I’m sure you understand. You saw what he was. The Gulfs decimated my family, too. But, I’m sorry, Ink. It’s nothing personal, but it can’t be you, either. You’re queen of the Gulfs now. And, well, I can’t let that happen, not if I’m going to be Creon’s queen,” she said, lifting her weapon again and aiming at me.
“No, Pangi! Wait,” I called, but then I heard the harsh echo of a gunshot. There was a strange moment, seemingly suspended in time, as I waited for the killing blow that ultimately didn’t come. On the contrary, Pangi staggered forward, looking surprised, a bullet hole between her eyes. A moment later, she dropped to her knees, blood trickling from her wound. She tumbled over in the dirt.
A wave of comforting vibration cascaded over me. I turned and looked behind me. Slipping his weapon back into its holster, Hal stepped out of the shadows. His green eyes glimmered in the moonlight.
Without a word, he beckoned to me.
Without hesitation, I followed.