Page 5 of The Mer-Mate
A rush of water sounds, then, “A sea jelly willfeed from the debris that collects around your eyes, and in return you will be able to see.”
“Oh,” I say weakly. Symbiotic eye goobies. It’s not much worse than the mites that live on my eyelashes, so I ignore the chill that creeps down my spine. “Next question. I’m breathing sea water. How?”
The water sounds from his mouth pauses, like a glottal stop, and he points to a sea sponge on the cave floor. “Thea’weshI put in your ... ” his large eyes close, as if searching for a word in a second language. It’s such a human action. Then I notice he doesn’t have eyelashes, and when they open again, his pupils reflect the cave light back like a predator at night.
The illusion of humanity vanishes.
I brace for another wave of panic that doesn’t come. My heart is racing and my senses are heightened, but I don’t feel like I’m in danger.
Then again, I did chase a hunch into a storm I knew my boat couldn’t handle. My sense of self-preservation isn’t exactly well-honed.
“Windpipe,” he finishes in that weird, half-familiar language. “It balances essences, and allows us to take what we need from the water.”
“Essences?” I take a guess. “Oxygen?”
“I saidessences.”
Okay, then.
I touch my throat. Something firm but pliant is lodged against my larynx. Not painful, just ... present. I look at his long fingers, tipped with sharp claws and webbed to the first joint, and think of how far down my throat he would havehad to shove it to get it into place. How careful he must have been to not hurt me.
I draw in a ... is it still a breath if it’s water? The ocean fills my throat, hits the sponge, and relief fills my lungs. I try to mimic the sounds he made fora’wesh, the rushing water with a glottal stop, and his torso expands rapidly.
Is he ... laughing at me? I scoop water forwards, sending myself backwards through the water, and I get my first full look at my merman.
He’s eight feet from head to tail, easy. And he’s not blue. At least, not completely. The skin on his upper body is like sunlight dappling through a kelp forest. Spots of aquamarine, almost like freckles, start just below his pectorals, becoming larger, until they join and become solid aqua just below his belly button.
Belly button. He’s a mammal.
“Are you a hybrid between a human and a dolphin?” I blurt.
This earns me a look of genuine disgust.
Thatlook I can decipher. I give a meek shrug. “Just asking.”
Anyway, last time I checked, dolphins don’t breathe underwater. Which we both clearly are.
“Nothing like this should be possible,” I murmur.
Nothing abouthimshould be possible. Grey-green skin that looks like a tide pool. Hair that looks like seaweed. Bright blue tail that looks like the sun hitting clear waters.
No wonder we haven’t seen them before. He’s perfectlycamouflaged.
The look he gives me is so alien I can’t tell if he’s laughing at me or angry at me. “There is much below the surface you humans don’t understand.”
“Speaking of understanding,” I continue, unfazed, “how do you understand me? How do I understand you?”
“We’re speaking English.” Theshhhat the end ofEnglishhisses like water through a high pressure pipe.
“Thanks for that. How do you understandEnglishhh?” I draw out the syllable the way he did, and his lips draw back to reveal teeth that almost look human, except for the inch-long incisors.
“Shipwrecks. Fucking humans keep running aground. Usually in the same spots over and over again. Your kind does not learn well.”
Shipwrecks. Sailors. That would explain the swearing.
He—they?—save people.
So, he isn’t going to kill me. Even with him being nearly twice my size, with teeth that could rip into my throat, fear is the farthest thing from my mind.
