The Wild Mermaid Read online

  This wasn’t mere music, like the song Cora had sung for the Queen. There was life in these notes. She didn’t hear it with her ears but with her being. Strength, power, and energy.

  And all of it was centered on her, and its focus was becoming painful.

  Soon it’d be too much to bear—she felt a scream growing in her throat—but then a new stanza began.

  Sarina joined her voice to the throng.

  Her voice rose above all others—soaring higher, lighter. She sang with clarity, and the energy that had nearly overwhelmed Cora began to sharpen. Sarina’s voice harnessed the power, and now that it was obedient to her will, she transformed it into something that could be used.

  Cora could feel it, at the point where Sarina’s hands touched her shoulders. Strength surged into her muscles as Sarina became a conduit, transferring the power of the song directly into Cora’s body.

  Cora’s strength returned, and the ache in her tail diminished. She felt like herself again—no, she felt better than that—

  Sarina’s voice cracked.

  The music ended, and the moment fell apart. The remaining energy dissipated, drifting into the water.

  Sarina pulled her hands from Cora’s shoulder and clapped them against each other. “Stupid, stupid,” she muttered.

  Maestro turned to them. “Was it enough?”

  “It better be.” Sarina’s voice was worse than before.

  Maestro lowered his hands, and the choir dispersed. The mer talked amongst themselves, swimming to take places around the room until they reminded Cora of how they’d been when she first entered the chamber.

  Then he turned to Cora. “How do you feel?”

  Cora reached for her fin, running her finger at the place where it had been cut. The change would be permanent, but there was no pain when she touched it. The wound no longer felt fresh.

  The strange ritual, the song that had been sung…this had revived her.

  Cautious, she rose, stretching upward to stand on her tailtip. The movement came easier than she expected.

  She felt hopeful—and that made her excited!

  Cora tried to flip, to spin with enthusiasm, but found herself flopping instead.

  She landed on her back, looking at the ceiling and giggling on the floor. Her new fin would take some getting used to.

  “I think she’s better,” Sarina scoffed.

  “I feel wonderful! Best I’ve felt since—since I was…in the pod.” She looked around the room. “Is this my pod now?”

  Sarina tittered. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

  “That’s wonderful! I woke up alone earlier, and it was awful. I hate being alone. My friend Phoebe is here too! We were in Triton’s pod together.”

  Maestro cleared his throat.

  Cora turned to him. “Are you the leader?”

  “Yes.” He seemed so tired, nothing like Triton. “We need to get to work.”

  “Work?”

  “Do you remember what the Queen said about the recital in three days?”

  “That I’m to be a soloist.”

  “Exactly.” Maestro adjusted himself, ensuring they were on the same level and he was the focus of her attention. “And becoming a soloist isn’t easy, Cora. You’re about to learn a lot of things very fast.”

  Maestro reached into a satchel at his waist and pulled out three purple marbles. He handed one of them to Sarina, who brought it to her mouth and swallowed it.

  He held the other two before Cora. They were beautiful like treasures. They were a little transparent, catching the light in a captivating way.

  She picked one up and rolled it between her fingers. It was squishy!

  “Eat it,” Maestro instructed. “Pinch it between your tongue and the roof of your mouth. It’ll break open. Swallow everything.”

  Cora did as Maestro instructed, puzzled by the strange sensation of it in her mouth. She lolled it around with her tongue before she tried to break it.

  And when she did press it open, sweet liquid gushed forward, filling her mouth. She swallowed it down hungrily.

  It was good!

  She reached for the second droplet, still on Maestro’s hand. He pulled back reflexively but let her take it.

  She ate that one much faster.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Physic.”

  An ache traveled from her stomach to her head. She pressed a hand against her chest. “I don’t feel so good.” Her vision began to blur, and everything faded fast.

  Chapter Four:

  An Awakening

  Kyla stirred, discovering something gritty between her teeth, lining her gums. She attempted to spit it out and failed. Her mouth was too dry.

  When she tried to open her eyes, Kyla found they were crusted shut, and when she tried to rub her face, she found her hands difficult to use. Pins and needles plagued her as she clumsily rubbed her fist into her eyes, against her mouth.

  Sand. It was everywhere. How long had she been asleep?

  She blinked a few times and yawned her mouth open and close. When her vision finally cleared, Kyla discovered she was on a beach.

  Cliff walls rose to all sides, enclosing her. Waves drifted toward her feet without touching them. The water rose high onto the sand, striking the cliffs to either side of the isolated shore.

  It was foggy—and not just the weather. Her surroundings themselves were misty. Details still seemed hazy, like everything around her didn’t quite exist, as though reality hadn’t fully formed.

  Kyla waited. Nothing happened, but time passed.

  She didn’t grow hungry or tired or thirsty. (Or, at least, not any thirstier.) The tide didn’t come or recede.

  When she eventually tried to climb the cliff, it crumbled in her hand. And when she considered swimming… Well, she was suspicious of the water.

  If she so much as put a toe in the ocean, her stomach lurched and her head shot with pain.

  So Kyla knew, to the marrow of her bones, that she didn’t belong in the ocean. That watery part of her was gone, leaving Kyla as some sort of remnant. She was something left behind.

  But she couldn’t remember why.

  ✽✽✽

  Cora lay on the center of the tiny stage, waffling in and out of awareness. The mermaids of the choir tended to her. This was her new pod, to be sure, for no others could love her like this.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled as Phoebe brought her a bubblet of warmed whale broth. Cora cupped it and pinched it open with her lips to sip the drink.

  Phoebe didn’t respond but adjusted the cushions under Cora’s tail and checked that the seaweed weaved blanket covered her fin.

  Yet, even as she cared for her, Phoebe kept Cora at a distance. It never used to be that way between them before.

  It wasn’t just Phoebe. The entire pod kept her at a distance. It wasn’t unkind, but a sort of…reverence. Cora was someone they treasured, and while she liked feeling special, their restraint was uncomfortable. It was hard to sleep when no one was at her side.

  A day and a night had passed, maybe, and she was starting to recover. At least she was staying awake long enough to begin wondering.

  Her mind felt different. She remembered glimpses: a throne room, three days to become a soloist, and a beautiful duet. The recollections stuck with her like never before. She remembered.

  Maestro approached her, swimming down from the higher level. She straightened up, nodding her head. His presence filled her with the same admiration she had for all immortals, but he had a tenderness that was all his own. She could see why, despite his apparent weariness, the pod respected him as their leader.

  He sat beside her and hesitated. His gaze dropped to her fin and she was reminded how her coloring nearly matched his. He tenderly pressed his hand to her forehead and studied her eyes. Then he presented her with three more of the marble-pills. “Time for another dose of physic.”

  She reached forward—it had tasted so good!—but hesitated. “I do
n’t know if I like it.”

  He smiled. “That’s smart of you.”

  “What are you doing to me?”

  “Turning you into a soloist.”

  She wanted more information but didn’t know what she was asking for.

  “A soloist,” Maestro began, “is a conduit of lifeforce. Remember how you felt after Sarina sang?”

  Cora nodded.

  “Sarina used lifeforce from the choir and transferred it into you. Because she is a soloist, she was able to act as the intermediary.”

  “The pod grew weaker for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it worked.” Cora shivered. Phoebe still cared for her even as Cora had absorbed her strength.

  “The Queen chose you,” Maestro continued. “If all goes well, you’ll take Sarina’s place and become the new conduit between the choir and its focus.”

  She found his words to be more confusing than they were comforting.

  Maestro lifted the physic to her again. “You need this to become a soloist.”

  “Is it dangerous? You seemed—worried. In the throne room.”

  He smiled. “You’re asking questions. That’s a good sign. It means you’re responding quickly. We’re lucky.”

  Cora swallowed, hoping he’d continue without her prompting him. All this thinking was hard work.

  “As to whether or not it’s dangerous… I’m not going to lie to you, this is risky. Physic reshapes the mind, especially in mortals. Typically, your debut would be a week after your first dose. With five days of physic, this has a fifty-fifty success rate, and while I’ve theorized it can be done faster…nobody has tried to become a soloist after three days of physic.”

  He’d talked a long time, and Cora had stopped paying attention. She eyed the three droplets in his hand. “The Queen wants this?” she asked. “Triton wants this.”

  She plucked the droplets from Maestro’s palm and ate them. This time, when the darkness came for her, she was a little more prepared.

  Cora slept a little lighter that night. She was more aware that time had passed when she drifted between dreams and consciousness. While she struggled to stay awake very long, those moments she did have were becoming more frequent and lucid.

  Maestro gave her another triple-dose that morning, and she took it in stride. It was growing easier to witness her changing mind. More memories returned to her, and she searched them, learning from them.

  She had been a bubbly, happy mermaid during their migration, a joy to their pod and blessed to belong to such a family. But most of her friends had been left behind before they reached the city. Where were they now?

  And she recalled the terror at the gates. She remembered the way Triton had looked at her, the greed evident in his eyes.

  But try as she might to remember her former life, anything from before the migration, she failed. It had been a curiosity at first, wondering where her old home had been, if she had friends in other pods. But when she failed, time and time again, it became an obsession.

  Cora couldn’t recall anything from her former life. Maybe she could dream of it…

  Sometime during the second day, she stirred to find Sarina beside her.

  Sarina hadn’t yet realized Cora was awake, and she sat on her salmon fin, back against the wall. She hugged a cushion to her chest, her gaze distant and face set.

  She was so different from every other mer Cora had met. Others clustered around the room as usual, and the bells of their chatter, sing-alongs, and giggles glittered throughout the room. Sarina didn’t sing.

  Cora wanted to join in their merriment, but couldn’t imagine swimming that far from her cushions. At least Sarina was nearby.

  “You’ll teach me how to sing?” Cora asked her.

  “Uh—Yes.” Sarina turned to her, seemingly surprised to discover Cora was awake. “Are you ready now?”

  “I don’t know. What would ready feel like?”

  Her lip curled in a smile, and she moved closer to Cora. “You’re more interesting than I’d expected, little fry.”

  “Explain?”

  “Our relationship is complex, you and me. You see, when I successfully train you, I die.”

  Cora gathered her courage as Sarina continued.

  “And while I do grow weary of being a soloist, I also very much want to live. And retirement is not a—pleasant—matter. It shocked me when I watched it happen to Emili, and I expect it’ll rattle your bones when you see me go.

  “We take the physic and reclaim fragments of our human minds—just so we can force others to die for the cause of immortality, giving our everything to the Queen and her Atlanteans.” Her tone had grown sardonic.

  Cora stared at her numbly.

  “Sorry, little fry, I’ll move slower. You asked questions, and I got excited to talk to someone other than Maestro and Davit.”

  “What is happening to me?” Cora asked.

  “I’ll start at the beginning,” Sarina said. “You were human once, like all mortal mermaids.”

  “I was human?” This was hard to grasp. She dreamed she was human but— “My dreams!”

  “Dreams are a common side-effect,” Sarina said.

  “But what happened?”

  “Triton serenaded you. One by one, he serenaded your entire pod. It’s a song that transfixes a human mind, compelling them to join with the sea. And once our human-selves surrendered to the song, giving themselves away, the spell changed their beings. We accepted gifts of sealungs and fins, all in exchange for identity and dignity.”

  “I was someone different?” Cora thought she knew of this. The human of her dreams wasn’t named Cora. “Kara?” she tried. It wasn’t right. “Corla?”

  Sarina grinned. “You’re welcome to keep on guessing, but I’ve never learned my name or who I was. Best that I understand it, our human-selves exchanged their memories for our fins. They’re gone.”

  Cora frowned. To never know who she was before… She was curious if the gift of a tail was worth the cost, but if Sarina was right, she’d never know.

  “But I suppose, it’s the wondering that makes us special,” Sarina concluded.

  “The others don’t know?” Cora asked.

  “How can they? Physic is the only thing that distinguishes us. Without it, we’ll revert and become just like them again. Would you have understood any of this before?”

  “No.” She wouldn’t have.

  “But we need physic to work with lifeforce. Soloists take physic so we can do the job.”

  Cora’s eyes were growing wider. “But then—we’re killing the pod, aren’t we?”

  Sarina shifted, uncomfortable. “One by one, we will drain all of them.”

  “I can’t!” Cora needed to get away from Sarina. “I won’t be a part of this.”

  Cora’s body was still far from cooperative. She stumbled before reaching the second tier and gave up by the fourth. There was nowhere for her to go.

  Sarina watched with vague amusement. “You don’t have much of a choice, little fry. If you refuse, no more physic. Without it, you’ll be like the others: prey for the next soloist. You could become dimwitted and happy but ignorant. Do you really want that?”

  Cora shook her head, more from fear than actual thought.

  “I see you. You’re a survivor.” Sarina’s dark eyes were intent on her now. “We’re all survivors when it comes to it. And since you want to live, you’ll keep your wits about you. You’ll take the physic and become the soloist.”

  Cora didn’t like the demand in Sarina’s words and made a vow then and there: she’d never lose her sense of her pod. She wouldn’t be selfish, not like Sarina. Despite the lifeforce she took from them…

  Before she could do anything, she first had to become the soloist. “Can you really teach me to sing like you?”

  “For a time, you’ll be able to sing better than me.” Sarina grinned. “If you’re lucky, you’ll even become the Queen’s darling. But then your voice will die like mine
is doing now. You’ll be replaced like you’re replacing me, like I replaced Emili. We all die to serve Atlantean immortality.”

  Cora tried to keep her face from betraying the horror expanding in the pit of her stomach.

  Sarina laughed, the sound cold and harsh. “Anyhow, come closer, little fry. Let’s get started.”

  Cora drifted back toward the stage. She sat taller, helping her sealungs to fill. It was time to sing.

  “Start with a warmup,” Sarina commanded.

  Cora grasped the first ditty that came to mind and sang, “Mari mermaid made my memories.” The notes tumbled up and then down the scale—a simple exercise.

  Sarina chuckled but joined her on the second round. “Mari mermaid made my memories,” they sang together. They repeated the ditty, marching up and down the scale as they prepared their vocal cords.

  At first, Cora sang without thought, but then she listened to the words. Queen Mari had remade her memories. She shivered.

  “Good,” Sarina said, once they finished. “Now, regarding the solo.”

  “Can you really teach this?” Did she really want to learn?

  “It’s easy to give lifeforce away. Staying alive is the hard part.”

  Cora shook her head, not understanding.

  “The acoustics are well arranged, and the choir is quite willing. You’ll find it easy to absorb the lifeforces from the others and take it into your body. I’m sure you felt it when we revived you. It would’ve been like a power building in your body.”

  Cora nodded.

  “Now that you’ve had physic, you’ll be able to manipulate that energy.” Sarina pressed her palm over Cora’s stomach. “I like to imagine energy collecting lower in my body.” She shifted her hand to Cora’s chest. “Then, I picture it transforming here.” She traced a finger to Cora’s lips. “And then project it as the song.”

  Cora didn’t understand.

  “You’ll find the process intuitive, I’m sure. We all do. Like I said, being the conduit is the easy part.”

  “What’s the hard part?”

  “I told you, staying alive. You’ll have to give some of your own lifeforce with the others—it’s an offering for the spell to take hold. But magic is greedy, and the song will ask for everything. If you don’t hold back, the spell will take all of you.”