Page 24 of A Magic Deep & Drowning

“Fever,” Helma said, a little too quickly. “He died of a fever.”

Little wonder that her parents resented her; two babies, a girl and a boy, and it was the preferred child that succumbed to sickness. Every day they lived with the reminder that their son was stolen from them, and all they were left with was an unsatisfactory daughter.

Voices echoed beyond the transept, the clicking of men’s boots on stones. “Whatever became of your young man?” Helma asked presently.

Clara traced a faded death’s head on a slab with the tip of her shoe. “I have not seen him again. I suppose that Iwas never more than a passing fancy for him, just as you warned me.”

Pim raised his head from where it had been lolling on his paws, and regarded her with intense interest.

Clucking her tongue, Helma gave a brisk nod. “It’s for the best.”

“I had best go,” Clara said, standing and smoothing her skirts. Pim jumped to his feet. “Nela will be back presently and I won’t bring down reproof on you again.”

Helma had just parted from their embrace and disappeared out the side door when Nela came sweeping into view, her mouth pressed into a scowl.

“Who were you speaking with?” she asked, craning her head around Clara to the door as it swung shut.

Clara shrugged. “Just a beggar woman.”

Nela’s scowl only deepened. “I’m going to tell your mother.”

“I’m sure you will,” Clara said. “I am done. Let us return to the carriage.”

“What about your taper?”

Clara waved her off. “Upon meditation, I have found that I do not wish to pray after all.” Turning abruptly on her heel, she left behind the mournful bells and gaping death’s heads of the church, Pim at her heels.

Interstitial

There is are no creatures so fantastic, so bewitching as the merfolk. Their society once flourished beneath the waves, a civilization so advanced and envied that man had no choice but to plunder those riches for himself.

A merperson possesses an incredible array of magical abilities, and the more powerful among them can shift his shape into anything from a fish to a man, and walk among us on land. But even their powers cannot cure their need for water, just as they cannot cure their need for air, and if they do not return to the water within a day, they will expire upon the land.

Like most creatures of the water, they prey on children and other unwilling souls who stray too close to the water’s edge. Not for food, but for sport. Beware their siren song, for nothing is as alluring as a merperson who sets their sight on a human lover.

Chapter Fifteen

The days dragged on, a never-ending march toward her wedding. Preparations continued, but Clara had lost interest in the details, no longer caring about learning the particulars of what sauces should be served with which meats, or how many bottles of wine she ought to order each month. She spent much of her time in her room, claiming to have headaches, monthly pains, anything that might excuse her from having to face the reality of her approaching nuptials. Sometimes she stalked the gardens, Pim her constant shadow. Once, she paused at the gatehouse, looking out at the winding path, the wind blowing at her neck, and thought about simply walking off into the unknown. But then she remembered the silver woman, and she continued on her way within the walls. It was one matter to think that she had wanted excitement, something new, but quite another to realize that there was magic in the world, unexplainable things. The lady could not have been human, Clara understood that much. Was this the magic that Helma had always told her of as a child? The stories she had loved as a girl had been full of cunning little folk, beautiful maidens and mermaids. The lady in the moss might have been beautiful, but there had been an underlying darkness about her, a cold threat in her diamond-clear eyes. She should have told Helma about the woman at the church, butthe news of her twin brother had made her forget everything else.

The night before her wedding, Clara sat through a strained dinner with her parents, poking at her food, unable to eat a bite. She dutifully recited her prayers before bed, and slipped under her covers with Pim curled at her side. He seemed to understand the heaviness that was pressing around her, offering his body for her to stroke.

As she let her fingers trail through his soft fur, she took inventory of the sounds of the house for the last time. A clock ticking, the light footfall of a servant going down the hall. The air that was somehow both still yet prickly.

But tonight, there was a new sound.

Clara felt the tremor in the air first, like a single drop of rain the moment before a storm breaks loose. Pim must have sensed it too, for he was up on his feet in a second, growling at the bed curtains.

She wished very much that she was not compelled to investigate, but she would not sleep unless she did. Slowly drawing aside the bed curtains, she peered into the dark room.

Jagged shadows cut across the heavy wood furniture, the patter of rain beckoning her to come to the window. Helpless and brave all at once, she swung her legs over the bed and moved forward, her heart beating painfully in her chest.

And then Clara saw it. Her feet grew roots on the cold floor, her legs unable to carry her any closer. Pim was barking at the window, fur standing on end.

The apparition’s mouth opened, a black hole of despair, and let out an eldritch scream.

It rained the day of Clara’s wedding.

She should have expected as much, as she couldn’t remember the last time the sun had made an appearance. Eyes dryand scratchy from a sleepless night, Clara sat sullenly in front of her looking glass. Fenna’s visit had been a final farewell, and Clara was not sorry that she would be leaving behind her friend’s restless spirit. What did Fenna want from her? Was it revenge for not saving her? Clara had been only a child, but she wondered if there was something else she could have done, some way to have prevented her from taking those fateful steps into the water. The long-ago day had etched itself into her memory, but as she grew older, the edges blurred and ran, like ink fading on parchment.

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