Page 21 of Never Nix Up

I school my face into a polite question, and she laughs. “I’m the local vet. Your tortoise is registered with us?”

“Ah yes, Lucifer. I live in fear of the day that he finally breaks free and rampages through my fridge. Knowing my luck, he’d go straight for the avocados.”

She winces. “Yeah, that’s always the way.” Turning back to Hazel, she adds, “I think your parents might be out tonight Hazel. Just a heads up. Perhaps keep close to the shore?”

When she swims away, Hazel looks anxiously back at me. “Maybe she’s right. Running into my parents would be stressful at best and disastrous at worst.”

There’s certainly a part of me that wants to get the hell out of this river before anyone tries to murder me, but I know that Hazel is in it for the long haul. “I’m not going anywhere baby. I’ll be fine.”

She swims over and kisses me and I could lose myself in her, in the river. She’s thrumming with energy and even I—mortal that I am—can sense it. I can see how easy it would be to drown someone, if they were feeling like this.

“Where are we going?”

She nods towards the bridge and I swim after her. It’s dark under the bridge, all shadows, and I don’t know how comfortable I’m going to be swimming into the depths of the river with her. These types of bridges, they dug down quite a way, when building them. So that they stand the test of time. This one has stood for a very long time, and I don’t like to think about how far down it goes.

“You’re not swimming down there with me, sweetheart.” It’s the first time she’s ever used that endearment for me, and warmth floods me as quickly as her spell did the river. “You’re going to stay here, and wait.”

“I can tread water for a certain amount of time,” I say, “but not forever.”

Don’t be foolish. You’re in my river; I can surely make you a seat.

“Thank you,” I say out loud, and Hazel hides a grin.

“She whispering in your ear. That’s a great honour, you know.”

“And it is an honour that surely I am unworthy of. Please. Please deem me unworthy of it.”

She laughs again, and waits for me to be seated on this chair of water-smoothed stones, before she dives down deep. Leaving me alone in the dark.

19

Hazel

Ispend so much time painting the river, that I forget how it feels to immerse myself in the water. It’s soothing the bone-deep weariness that’s suffused my soul. For a moment, I don’t keep swimming downwards, and instead let myself rely on the current. It tugs me downstream and I long to follow, to let it whisk me away for a few hours.

Hazel.

Trisantona’s voice fills my head. I wasn’t lying to Finn when I said that it’s an honour. Most river nixes are never spoken to as directly as this, let alone a human. It’s been a long time since we communicated this way though.

Hazel. Hazel, come back.

As she speaks, I’m reminded that I’m not just made of water, that elements other than just oxygen and hydrogen make up this nix’s body of mine. I feel heavy. Solid.

Not that far back. Just enough that you know that you and the Arun are not one and the same.

It’s happened before, nixes spending so much time in the currents that they lose themselves in the water. I haven’t heard of it happening if youhaven’tspent enough time in the river though. I clearly need to take a dip a little more often.

Yes,says Trisantona.You certainly do. Now concentrate. You’re there for a reason.

River demons, nixes, are not the same as merpeople. Not the same as selkies or other fae who take to the seas. We don’t shapeshift. This mortal form we take is ours to keep, and it means that swimming deep can be a little more challenging than it would for most. But still nothing to worry about.

I push against the pier and propel myself down towards the riverbed. In a normal river, it wouldn’t be this deep. But this is Wyrten bridge and no matter how normal the River Arun may seem when it runs through other settlements, here it is infused with magic.

The bottom of the pier is dark and I have to blink several times to make sure that I’m seeing things correctly. There’s not just Johnny’s body down here, though I’m drawn to his instantly. There are many bodies down here, tied to the bottom of the piers and left for the fish. I imagine that it’s the same by every pier.

It is.Why do you think I have nightmares? Their souls can’t rest, but they also can’t become ghosts. Not in the traditional sense. Not with their bodies like this.

How many years… how many years did they do this for? How many humans died in some misguided ritual?

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