Chapter 1
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved the ocean about as much as I’ve feared it. There’s something about the water, deep, dark, endless, that grabs hold of my innards and twists them like a child rolling spaghetti on a fork. But there’s also something about it that calls to me. When I was younger, I used to mistake that for the siren song of curiosity, of wonder, of adventure.
But I was naïve, back then.
For me—for most people, I guess—there’s no room for adventure. There’s rent, there are bills, responsibilities. Adventure, then, becomes something that happens to other people, or to characters in books, in movies. On the one hand, that sucks. On the other hand, it’s nice not to have to brave your deepest fears in person, right?
Shit, I’m running out of air.
I had been floating underwater in something of a daze, my thoughts running freely like a current.
With a quick twist of my abdomen and a rapid beat of my fin, I shot through the water. I loved the way it brushed against my ears as I moved through it, the way the water made me feel like I was flying, especially at the speed that I was going. I always imagined I could gather enough speed to push myself out of it and soar through the air, like a dolphin.
Instead, I bobbed out of it quietly, whipped my hair behind my head, and looked around. There were water droplets in my goggles, so I took them off and shook them out, realizing only after I had fastened them over my eyes again that I was being watched by literally everyone in the pool… because I was the only idiot wearing a mermaid tail.
You’d think I would’ve gotten used to the staring by now, but it always made my cheeks flush hot and red. Most of the passengers on the Pearl of the Seas—a cruise liner based out of Southampton, in England—were old age pensioners who came aboard to enjoy a quiet trip around the Mediterranean Sea. The last thing they expected to find in the pool area on the upper deck was a nutter splashing around in a mermaid tail and a mono-fin.
Someone bumped into me, and I instantly turned around and apologized, assuming it was my fault. “Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t bash against you, did I?”
A severe looking woman in her late sixties, with silvery hair held in an updo and half-moon spectacles hanging off the bridge of her nose looked down at me. “Not yet,” she said, disdain in her voice. “But you really should be careful with that thing. This is an area of rest and relaxation, not games.”
The pool we were in was Olympic sized. There was plenty of room for what I was doing, and it wasn’t against the rules, but she was a guest, and I was a Royal Mediterranean employee, so I had to bite my tongue—not that I would have answered back, anyway. I had manners.
My face flushed even brighter red. “Sorry again,” I said, backing slowly away from her and heading for the side of the pool. Other people were still watching, some with mild disapproval, others with a little curiosity. The few children that were around would occasionally point and tell their parents there was a mermaid in the pool. That part was nice.
Overall, mixed reviews.
“Smooth, Kara,” came a small, feminine voice from behind my neck. “I would’ve splashed her in the face, ruined her hairdo, but you do you.”
“You’re four inches tall,” I said through pursed lips. “You couldn’t have splashed her if you had wanted to.”
A small, rogue wave came rushing at me, the water lifting as it reached my face. Instinct made me pull my hands up to protect my eyes, even though I was wearing goggles. I looked like an even bigger idiot now than I had a moment ago, and I only had myself to blame.
“Bubbles! That was not called for,” I hissed.
“Hey, you challenged me,” Bubbles said. “You know I love a challenge.”
I turned toward the deep end of the pool and started to swim. “Maybe, but people are watching. If someone catches me talking to you, and they find you clinging to the back of my neck, it’s going to break their brains. You almost broke mine when we first met, or don’t you remember?”
“I still remember the way you shrieked, yeah. Like, ahhhhh. What the bloody hell are you? Classic.”
“I still haven’t the foggiest idea what you are.”
“A water pixie, I told you.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“Then, don’t worry about it.”
I dipped below the water and pushed myself further toward the end of the pool with my fin, picking up speed until I reached the wall and stopped. Surfacing again, I placed my hands on the edge of the pool and looked up, only to find someone standing at the edge of the pool, breaking the sunlight.
Mrs. Miller was a kind, grandmotherly woman who looked like the sort of person that enjoyed baking things and drinking tea by the fire. The sweet aroma of cinnamon followed her wherever she went, but out here in the pool area, all you could smell was chlorine.
“Oh, hi Mrs. Miller,” I said, looking up at her with one eye shut. “How are you today?”
“I’m going to be sixty-three next week,” she said, with a slight chuckle. “I’m doing as well as one would expect.”
“Ah, come on. You don’t look a day over twenty, and I’m sure you can swim circles around me.”
“Maybe if I could stuff myself into one of those fins of yours. You always seem to have a new one on.”
“Yeah, this one’s Tropical Sunset—the one I wore yesterday was Nightshade. They’re pretty, though, and I at least get to use them here.”
“What I would have given to have one of those at your age…” she paused, her eyes veering off to the side. “Anyway, I meant to ask, at what time is your swimming class meant to start? Because it’s ten past three, and I thought—”
“—oh my God, I’m late. I’m so sorry, I’ll get right out of the pool and be with you in a moment.”
“It’s fine, dear,” she said, smiling. “We aren’t going anywhere. I’m just glad to know I’m not the only one who loses track of time.”
Mrs. Miller stepped back to give me enough room to hoist myself out of the pool. Laying on my back, I wiggled out of my mermaid tail, slipped off my mono-fin, and rolled it all up in my hands. Hurrying to my locker behind the bar on the pool deck, I quickly grabbed my red shorts, my whistle, and replaced them with my tail.
“Late again,” Bubbles said. “How do you manage?”
“That’s not helpful, Bubbles,” I said as I rapidly jumped into my shorts.
“I’m not trying to be helpful. I’m being sassy.”
“And where did you learn that word?”
“Television.”
“Don’t make me leave you in the fish tank again,” I warned. “And stop doing that thing you’re doing to my neck.”
“What, you mean holding on for dear life?”
“Yeah, those suction cup things tickle.”
“At least they don’t sting.”
Rushing back to the locker room door, I stopped in front of the mirror to check myself out. My blue hair was a wet mess, so I brushed it with my fingertips, hoping to find an ounce of professionalism in my reflection while leaving it long enough to hide Bubbles.
I was lean, and tall, and I liked to think I was pretty… maybe… but I thought I was way too pale, despite spending most of my day out in the pool—all my skin ever seemed to do was burn, go pink, and then go back to white. It made the tired circles under my eyes stand out a little too much, giving away my difficulties sleeping at night lately.
Today was my birthday, and it seemed like my only gifts were nightmares and lost time.
I took a deep breath in, then exhaled. “Alright,” I said to myself, “Put on your happy face and smile, Kara. If you believe it, they will too.”
“Great pep-talk,” Bubbles said.
“Quiet,” I hissed, and I shoved the locker room door open so hard it smashed into someone walking past it. Whoever it was went down with a hard thud, a sound that seemed to work its way into my body and rattle against every last one of my bones.
I froze, panicked. In my mind, I’d just killed an old person. I must have. Someone had quite literally hit the deck, and it was my fault. A sharp ringing in my ears started to rise along with my heartrate, I thought I was going to faint, but then the world righted itself and my lifeguard instincts kicked in.
Pushing the door open again, I rushed out onto the deck and took the corner around the open door. It wasn’t an old person I had knocked down, though. Young people who weren’t part of the staff were a rare sight on the Pearl of the Seas, but I had just whacked a young person. A man; a very pretty man lying flat on his back.
He was wearing a pair of black boots, black trousers, and a ruffled white shirt with the buttons popped at the collar. Around his wrists were a number of leather bangles with charms hanging off them, he had a deep red bandana tucked into one of his pockets that had spilled out onto the deck to look like blood, and there was a hat somewhere not too far from where he had fallen.
A hat with the brim fastened in three places.
“Holy shit,” I said, “I just hit a pirate.”
“Now would be a good time to say sorry,” Bubbles whispered.
“S-s-shit, sorry,” I stuttered, rushing over to the man I had unintentionally knocked down. “Are you okay?”
He looked a little dazed, but his eyes were open. They were bright, and green, and… almost luminous. No. That’s crazy. But they were, or at least they looked like they were. He had scraggly black hair, a strong jaw with a little stubble on it, and a small tattoo on his neck that I couldn’t quite identify.
I watched him bring one of his hands up to his nose. He touched it, then inspected his fingers. Actual blood. “Am I dead?” he asked.
“Oh no… I think I gave you a concussion. Hold on, there’s a first aid kit in here.”
I rushed back into the small locker room, tore the first aid kit off the Velcro straps keeping it fastened to the wall, and then dashed back out onto the deck. He was gone.
“What the hell?” I asked no one.
“Where’d he go?” Bubbles asked.
“He was here, wasn’t he? I couldn’t have imagined him.”
“No, I saw him… oh wait, look!”
I scanned the deck, moving out a little to look up and down the length of the ship. “Look where?”
“Not there,” Bubbles said, then she grabbed my ear lobe and tugged it, forcing me to turn my head. “There.”
His hat.
He had run off, but he hadn’t picked it up. I carefully walked over to it, knelt down, and picked it up. It was scuffed and worn, deep brown—the color of the earth—and adorned with bits of brass; namely, the pins that gave the hat its conspicuously pirate shape.
“Why did he leave?” I asked the hat, turning it over to find any identifiable labels. There were none. Not even a made in tag. It looked authentic.
“I don’t know,” Bubbles said. “Maybe he was embarrassed that he’d almost been killed by a scrawny British girl.”
“I did not almost kill him.”
“You said it yourself, he may have a concussion. If he falls overboard and dies, it’s on you.”
I shook my head. “Why are you like this?”
Bubbles sighed. “I get bored a lot.”
“I wonder where he went.”
“Probably back to his ship… or maybe he’s waiting around the corner to jump you and make you walk the plank. Arrr.”
“He’s probably an entertainer… I’ve never seen him before, though.”
I scanned the deck again, and when I was convinced I wouldn’t find him, I went back into the locker room and placed the first aid kit back where it was supposed to be. “Come on,” I said, “We’ve got people waiting for their water aerobics.”
“Fun.”
It wasn’t going to be. It was safe, and boring, and more of the same, but it paid the bills… and you couldn’t get a better view of the open ocean from here.
