Page 11 of Bind Me

Following a narrow path along the thick pine woods, I pass a broken and rusted metal gate, yet it’s exactly where the coordinates are bringing me. Shadows darken the area, the place ominously silent.

Eventually, I pull up near a rocky edge by the water, barren of any homes nearby or across the fjord on the other side. It’s isolated and gorgeous. I park by the trees so the car isn’t easily spotted, then climb out of the driver’s seat. I stare out at the open tranquility, at the mountain looming behind me, where farther up and tucked in its embrace is a house—a once majestic red mansion now worn and weathered. Unlike the rest of the location, this place hasn’t been restored.

I grab the notes from the passenger seat, flipping through the pages to the section about my target. According to the brief, Belu has been seen along the fjord on a boat in this vicinity, stopping at the shore, behaving erratically but then always vanishing when authorities arrive.

Now, this location offers an easy view, and evidently, my task is to watch out to gather information if he returns. Of course, I’m pissed that it’s not a hunt-and-capture mission, but I’m not going to ruffle feathers on my first field day.

Studying the notes, I flip through them, stopping on his profile page. The guy’s a large, lofty man with dark hair and blue eyes, and he is a merman. That last bit piques my interest since I tend to keep my distance from my kind. Mostly since they’re not common in the town I’m from in South Africa. And I’m not especially fond of other merpeople’s initial questions, asking who my parents are and what our bloodline is.

It’s none of their damn business.

Yet my stomach twists into knots at the mention of my past, at the nightmare I’ve lived with for years.

“Deep breath,” I murmur under my breath.

Daddy’s face flashes in my mind. He’s choking and spluttering, his panicked expression tearing at my insides. I still see the terror in his eyes as he looked at me. That crushing helplessness still destroys me. I’m stretching my hands out toward him, desperate to save him, but it’s not enough.

Tears well up in my eyes, and my hands tremble. Each breath feels heavy, as if I’m right back there, pleading with my mom to stop.

The vividness tears into me, and I know I’m spiraling. I’ve learned to stop myself from going into a full-blown panic attack. Forcing my breathing to slow, I anchor myself to the present, the car I came in, the woods surrounding me.

I’m here now, not back in that horrible moment. I’m strong enough to push past the pain.

Calming slowly, I stare at the document shaking in my hands, needing my attention on something other than my thoughts.

I’ve been practicing meditation and Tai Chi to learn to calm myself, and it’s been working. But sometimes, the darkness sneaks up on me.

Taking a deep breath, I shake the thoughts back and refocus on the papers in my grasp. There’s an image of Belu in the top left-hand corner of the file, which could have been hand drawn. It’s barely more than a shadow, but it’s enough to give me an idea of his strong face and jawline.

The dossier doesn’t say much more, just that he’s been elusive, and he was out on bail despite being under investigation for murder. Ah, another asshole who knows someone in power.

Tossing the papers back into the car, I exhale deeply and scan the area, then make my way down to the water. I tread carefully on the rocky shore, my gaze sweeping my surroundings for any sign of movement. The pier is just ahead, the wood worn and extending into the dark water. A few birds fly overhead; otherwise, it’s eerily silent. The cold in the air wraps around me, yet on the inside, I’m scorching hot. I loosen my leather jacket, at least to try looking more like a tourist who might have wandered here for a great sight instead of a mission.

As I near the pier, a splash of brown catches my attention. There’s no boat tied up, but there’s something there. Moving closer, I stumble over a pair of male boots carelessly abandoned near the shore.

Tilting my head to the side, I smirk. Who else but a merman might ditch his shoes to take a dip in freezing waters? Except, what about his clothes? Regardless, what if he’s hiding something underwater?

I grin to myself and make my way to the right-hand side of the rocky shore. Without a second thought, I start shedding my clothes. If I’m going after a merman, I’m diving in on equal footing. I’m a lot more powerful and dangerous in my mermaid form.

Boots, jacket, pants, bra, underwear—everything drops in a pile on a rock by the pier. One last scan to confirm I’m alone, and there I am, butt naked in the open. With a deep breath, bracing myself, I rush to the water’s edge and dive in. The cold fjord water embraces me and is startlingly frigid. My skin tingles from the freezing water rushing over me.

With a single willing thought, my change pushes forward, my legs fusing and stretching into a powerful aquamarine tail. A familiar tingling sensation cascades down my hips and lower as scales shimmer into existence. The water feels different suddenly—as if it recognizes me, welcoming me back. It clings to me, not as a chill but as a warm coat, embracing me, making me whole. It’s not just a return to the water but a homecoming. A sensation I will never tire of when I enter the water and transform into my mermaid form.

Instantly, everything around me changes. My vision shifts and sharpens, and the murky depths become less blurry. Subtle movements in the shadows grab my attention to the quicksilver dart of fish nearby. Each swish of water, each distant call of marine life, echoes in my ears.

There’s something calming about uniting with the water realm, and it never gets old.

Calmness washes over me.

This is where I belong, where I feel more powerful, more alive—underwater. With the small lines of gills at the edges of my neck fluttering subtly, I breathe in the water effortlessly.

For many years after losing my parents, I avoided the water, refusing to transform, reminded of my mother, but once I started my work as a bounty hunter, my best friend, Billie, pushed me to face my fears. I miss her so much. I make a mental note to get in contact with her soon.

I dive deeper, slicing through the water and barely making ripples around me. The fjord deepens, and the water darkens. If Belu is out here, I’ll find him. Fjords are known to plunge thousands of feet, where not even sunlight can reach, but my mermaid eyes are sharp, built to pierce the dark as long as there’s a sliver of light to work with. If I can’t see clearly this far down here, then neither will the merman… or so I hope.

As I push deeper, the water grows colder, icy on my skin. With a flick of my tail, I pivot sharply, but as I do, a dim light flickers through the deep water. I dart toward the beam, my tail beating fluidly just as a school of mackerel darts past, their silver bodies a flashing glint against the darkness around me. I can’t help but grin, missing the whole swimming in the wild with the marine life, but I push those thoughts aside.

Sharpening my focus on the glow, it quickly becomes clear there’s something else deep down here, something man-made—or mer-made, I guess. Nestled against the underwater cliff is a huge cave, its mouth agape. A light blazes from deep inside, cutting through the water the nearer I get.

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