Mermaids and Monsters
creatures and magic shells, and of goddesses with kingdoms in the deep until early morning sunlight woke her. It streamed in through the porthole, promising she hadn’t been dragged to the bottom of the sea by a jealous mermaid.
Her sore muscles protested as she stretched, begging her to remain still, but she eased herself up with a heavy sigh, shaking off the dreams and the prior evening that should have been a dream.
He couldn’t love you.
As she righted, something dribbled down her arm. She peered down at the fresh blood dotting her shirt from the broken scab over the wound on her arm.
Across the room, Lavinia pulled on her boots with a frown. “You should’ve wrapped it last night.”
Aurelia grimaced. “I forgot,” she said, and pressed her hand to her neck, blinking rapidly at the sound of her voice—or lack thereof. She cleared her throat and tried again—“I forgot.”—and again, her voice did not come, as though it had simply decided not to wake that morning.
That damn mermaid.
“That’s not good.” Lavinia crossed to Aurelia’s bed and pressed her hand to her forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
Aurelia nodded absently, her mind whirling. Last night, she’d groaned as she fell into bed, and that was the last time she’d heard her own voice, not thinking that the mermaid was stealing from her when she pulled her little trick with the shell. And now…
She had to get that shell back.
Before Aurelia could move, Lavinia took her hand and said, “I’ll take you to my mother. She’ll make you tea for your throat and wrap your arm.”
Aurelia couldn’t protest as Lavinia towed her toward the crew’s quarters where Hester sat among some of the others eating breakfast. Lavinia made Aurelia sit next to her mother, her bloody sleeve facing the older woman.
“We need a fix,” Lavinia said.
“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Hester said, her hazel eyes tracing the gash through the cut in her shirt.
“She lost her voice too,” Lavinia said.
“Dear me.” Hester placed a warm, callused hand against Aurelia’s cheek. “Are you feeling alright?”
Aurelia nodded and pointed to her throat and said, The mermaid took it, but the words were lost. Huffing, she tried to stand, but Hester grabbed her in a surprisingly strong grip that rivaled Lavinia’s.
“Offley,” Hester said. The shifty-eyed carpenter jumped as he heard his name. “Fetch some tea—peppermint or elm, preferably. Chamomile’ll do if we don’t have the others.”
Wrinkling his pig nose, Offley abandoned his breakfast and set off for the back of the ship. Hester set to work, rolling up Aurelia’s sleeve and bidding her to hold it there while she reached for her bandages.
Aurelia acquiesced, though she turned to Lavinia and tried to mime writing with a pen, mouthing, Paper? A note to William was her first order of business, to tell him what had happened. She needed to find the mermaid. But Lavinia was watching Ralph come down the stairs, fixing his golden, windblown hair.
“This happens,” Hester said, grabbing Aurelia’s miming hand to hold it still while she cleaned the cut with a stinging ointment. Aurelia flinched, her startled squeak swallowed by silence. “Losing your voice—sometimes the stress of a battle is lost on us in the moment, and we fall apart after, ‘specially if you were yelling the whole time.”
Mermaid, Aurelia tried to say again, and Hester nodded as though Aurelia had just agreed with her. Aurelia turned to Lavinia again to ask again for paper, but she was still watching Ralph talk with another pirate.
“This cut should heal nicely,” Hester said as she unraveled her bandages. “Now your throat—does it feel raw? Dry?”
It was magic, Aurelia tried to say, and realized—even in silence—how ridiculous that sounded. And she planned to take this predicament to William? Her cheeks flamed. What would he say to her getting her voice magicked away by a sea creature?
He couldn’t love you.
Offley returned with tea, which he handed to her. She took it with her free hand and flashed a smile in thanks. His eyes widened, and he offered a shy grin in return before taking up his breakfast again. He glanced at Aurelia once more before tearing his eyes away for good.
Ralph sidled past Lavinia, nudging her with his elbow as he did, and dropped into a seat beside Aurelia. “Are you getting cut or fixing one?”
“Fixing,” Aurelia breathed.
Ralph’s brows pulled together. “Pardon?”
“Fixing,” Hester said, wrapping Aurelia’s arm now. “Poor thing lost her voice.”
“Must’ve been all the barfing last night,” he said rather confidently.
“That happens,” Hester said with a sage nod as she tied off the bandage. “When Copson took on all the new crew several years ago, I had to nurse a dozen boys back to health after their first battle.”
Lavinia squawked. “Their stomachs couldn’t take it. Never seen Ralph so green.”
Ralph frowned. “I could take it, it was just…different than I thought it’d be.” He looked at Aurelia. “You never really get used to it.”
“Killing’s in your blood, Ralph,” Hester said. “Has been for generations.”
His frown turned into a grimace. “It’s a temporary means to an end.”
Lavinia plopped down beside him and draped her arm over his shoulder. “What better end could you have than a pirate’s life for us all?” She winked at Aurelia while Hester rolled her sleeve back into place.
Aurelia didn’t wait for Ralph’s answer. She tried to stand, intending to flee to find some paper, but Hester hauled her back down, saying, “Drink your tea first.”
With a grunt no one heard, she raised the mug to her lips, preparing to gulp down the steaming drink, but the ship gave a violent lurch, and she curled away from the cup as half of the tea sloshed to the floor.
Everyone launched to their feet, their faces turned toward the main deck as screams broke out above. A bell rang, summoning all hands.
“Guns!” Lavinia yelled, and many ran after her toward the artillery deck a level below. The others ran for the main deck, Aurelia on their heels as the ship trembled and beams began to splinter. When she emerged, massive orange tentacles were wrapped around the Destiny’s Revenge, tightening until the wooden rails cracked and buckled.
Pirates ran at the massive creature with swords and axes, cutting chunks from the beast’s slimy flesh. Smoking, blasting guns ripped through the peace of the morning. A tentacle swung low, grabbed a sailor, and tossed him through the air. He screamed and smashed into the water near the Fortuna Royale as its cannons extended from its hull.
Aurelia pulled her sword and dagger. And then she heard it—singing, off in the distance.
“Net off the port!” Copson roared from the helm. “I want that blasted fish!”
Aurelia dashed to the rail. Not far from the ship, a pretty head lingered just above the waves. The shell hung around her neck, and Aurelia nearly pitched herself overboard—before seeing the monstrous creature writhing beneath the ship.
Her eyes snapped back to the mermaid. Her angry golden gaze locked on Aurelia, and the song changed.
The tentacle came out of nowhere. It wrapped around Aurelia’s ankle and tugged her into the air. She screamed, but no sound came.
“Hold on!” Ralph cried from below.
Aurelia desperately swung her sword and dagger at the tentacle and missed entirely. Blood rushed to her head as she dangled and swung, fighting to line up one of her blades with the slippery, writhing tentacle. She tried to scream again, but her voice betrayed her while the mermaid sang and sang, and the creature obeyed.
She smacked into the mast, which knocked both weapons from her hands. They clattered to the deck among the scrambling sailors and came to rest near Greyson who’d dug a bloody gouge into the beast. With a final swing of his ax, he severed a limb. It slid off the ship and sank into the sea where the creature roiled. Still, two more tentacles hugged the ship, a third dangling Aurelia high above, toying with her soundless terror. Gunfire blasted over the mermaid’s song as Ralph shot at the tentacle holding Aurelia, not missing a single time.
Aurelia reached for her captured leg, gripping her thigh as though she might climb up to her ankle and claw the tentacle away.
Copson’s voice tore through the din. “GET THAT BLOODY FISH ON BOARD!”
The mermaid attempted to dive as the crew tossed a net, but she’d drifted too close to the ship and tangled in the ropes. The crew hauled her, hissing and spotting, toward the Destiny’s Revenge, but in the absence of her song, the tentacle around Aurelia’s leg released, and she fell.
Air whipped past her, snagging her hair and ripping against her skin. She prayed, waiting an agonizingly long heartbeat to hit the deck and break her neck.
But then was Ralph there. She crashed into him, and both fell to the deck. Gasping, Aurelia pushed herself off him. He scrambled to his knees, his hands on her shoulders and eyes roving over her face.
He panted, “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, massaging her hip. As far as she could tell, nothing was broken beyond what would certainly be a couple bruises, but she trembled horribly.
“Lord, you could’ve died,” Ralph said, then he clutched her tightly, dampening the shock and fear buzzing through her.
As the mermaid was hoisted from the water, the monster released the ship and swam off. The net thudded to the deck. Inside, the mermaid gripped the ropes with one hand and fought to untangle herself, and even from where Aurelia huddled with Ralph, she could hear the frightened gasps coming from within the net.
Aurelia pushed forward, her eyes on the shell around the girl’s throat, but Ralph held her back as Copson strode toward the creature, snarling, “I ought to kill you.”
The mermaid leaned back as though she might escape his fury, but the net held her in place. “Please—please, I only—”
Copson out his hand to silence her, his features shifting into revulsion. Because as the creature spoke, it wasn’t the lilting, beautiful voice from last night—it was Aurelia’s.
Under her sparkling crown, the mermaid also wore her pink hair in a similar braid slung over one bare shoulder—the very same Aurelia favored for her own.
Copson turned to Aurelia. “Speak,” he said.
The shell! she tried to say. I need the shell!
“Never mind my ship,” the captain growled at the mermaid. “You stole her voice?”
A strange relief that he’d guessed it so easily, that she didn’t have to plead or ask or make herself understood. He heard well enough.
“I didn’t mean—I only wanted—” The mermaid finally worked free of the net, and now her hands fluttered to the shell around her neck. Tears glittered on her cheeks. “I wanted you—to speak with you.”
The captain bent to rip the shell from her throat. It clattered to the deck, and he smashed it under his heel. As it shattered, Aurelia began coughing. Sea water spurted from her mouth, salty against her tongue, and she scrambled back, sputtering and gasping.
“Speak with your own voice, sea witch,” Copson ordered. “You won’t seduce me with someone else’s.”
The mermaid hung her head and unfurled her clenched fist to reveal a wad of soggy paper. She flattened it and held it aloft.
It was a page from a storybook with an illustration of a prince and his princess, her back bent as he dipped her in a passionate kiss. When the mermaid spoke again, it was with the ethereal voice Aurelia had heard the night before. “I only wanted a kiss,” she told him softly.
Copson took the page and studied it. “Why would I ever touch you?”
“I’ve sung to you,” she said. “I helped you… I thought you might—”
A mocking grin twisted his lips. “Did you think destroying my ship and abusing my crew would make me want you?”
“I-I’m sorry. Please. Kiss me just once like that, sir, and I…I promise you’ll never see me again.”
He dropped the page, his lips twisted in disgust. “Swear on your life.”
More tears spilled down her pretty face. She reached for the page, but it was now firmly wedged beneath the captain’s boot where it would tear if she pulled it. She clasped her curled fingers against her chest. “I swear on my life.”
“You’ll leave me alone. My crew as well.”
“Captain,” Greyson warned, stepping forward.
Copson ignored him. “And you’ll provide everything I need to fix my ship.”
“Yes,” the mermaid said through gentle tears. Aurelia grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
He loomed over the mermaid, his eyes shadowed under his hat. “Mark me, fish,” he said coldly. “If I see you again, I’ll put a harpoon through your heart.”
“Copson,” Greyson grumbled.
The captain stared at the creature. “We have an agreement.”
Her face became anguished. “I—”
“Captain!” Greyson lurched, his arm outstretched as though to haul Copson away, but it was too late. The captain sank to one knee, took her face in his hands, and crushed his lips to hers. His hand rested against the bare skin of the small of her back, tipping her like the woman in the picture. Her arms wound around his shoulders, nails glittering as she pulled him close.
Aurelia shrank into Ralph, her heart beating oddly as William kissed a face she would consider far more beautiful than her own. He lingered in the embrace, his lips still, hands stationary.
Aurelia hated mermaids.
Then Copson broke away and said, “Never return, or I will kill you.”
The mermaid cried out as he pried himself from her grip. Other sailors came to grab her wrists and slide her toward the rail, dodging her snapping teeth. They tossed her over the edge.
Copson scrubbed his lips with his sleeve. “Get us going,” he said, and the crew burst into motion. He looked at Aurelia. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, her hand at her throat as her voice came strong and perfect. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d take my voice…”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he said succinctly. “All this was my bloody fault.”
His kiss the night before—there was regret in his eyes now, and with it came the mermaid’s voice telling her once again, He couldn’t love you.
William started for the quarterdeck. Ralph helped Aurelia to her feet, made sure she was steady, and headed off to assess the damage to the ship.
While she picked up her sword and dagger, Greyson chided Copson at the helm. “You shouldn’t have done it. Siren sickness—”
Copson waved him off. “That’s a myth.”
The first mate frowned. “It’s not, Cap.”
“If you’re so superstitious, what do you suggest I do?”
“Pray,” Greyson said. “Pray and lock yourself away before you go pitching yourself into the sea for that wicked thing to have you forever.”
Offley and Fenner appeared at Aurelia’s side. She asked quietly, “What does he mean by siren sickness?”
“Kissing mermaids is bad luck,” Fenner said.
Offley’s gaze bounced between her and the deck. “There are stories about men being overcome with madness and throwing themselves into the ocean to be with the creatures they kissed. Some say these unfortunate souls turn into sea foam—others say they grow tails, and that’s how the maids find their mates.”
“She’s only a fish,” she said, but her words were hollow, wrung with hope she didn’t really feel.
Offley shrugged. Fenner looked at her and said, “That’s probably what they all say.”