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BAZ
If I had to be captured, couldn't it be by something more dignified than conspirates?
They're awful creatures, really. Always waiting for the next top-secret job that they can get their grubby little hands on. They're not human so much as they are masses of sandstone and rusted metal, and they feed off gossip. They'll transfer loot through the English channel for a bit of inside info. And they're always in chattering little herds. Nightmares. Just barnacles and brain and nasty manners.
They tied me to the mast once they'd nabbed me from the club. Someone must've slipped them something truly precious for them to stray so far from the sea. They were just lumps of dissipating rock by the time they reached me, but it didn't matter. There were so many of them. They sank their sharp edges into my skin and dragged me across the gravel. In a swirl of sand and bits of shell, they had swallowed me whole.
I woke up hours ago with the sun beating down on me, dangling like a towel on a line by too-tight ropes that burn into my wrists. They took my wand—probably ruined it with their awful, watery skin. It's so bright. It hurts and they haven't given me anything to drink or eat and my throat burns with the salty air.
The waves kiss my skin sometimes, burning where they touch my wrists. The wind batters me against the wood and I feel seconds away from sinking unconscious. Even if I could get free, I can't swim—I'm more dead than alive, more blood than water, so while I likely wouldn't drown for a long time, it would still happen.
I don't know what they want from me. They must understand that I'm not human because, by my estimation, it's been about a week. I tried bargaining with them before my voice broke into sobs—begging for Niall, Dev, even my father—but whatever they were given outweighs my admittedly weak offers.
At this point, all I can do is croak and scream soundlessly and try to cling to myself, even as my physical state declines.
The spray is freezing and the light is burning and it's all just… so much.
I even try to gnaw through the wood of the mast with my fangs. All that does is leave splinters in my gums, which is really great because the first thing I need is to lose even more blood.
Not the best move I've ever made, but at this point I feel more animal than boy.
I don't even know where they're taking me! We're sort of just… plundering into the depthless blue. Not a strip of land in sight. They keep sending birds to my family, asking them to pay ransom. They won't do it. They'd let me die first.
(That thought causes tears to roll down my already-salty cheeks, though I'm so dehydrated that I end up just sobbing silently. My body has nothing else to give.)
(I'm going insane with thirst, trying to catch birds as they swoop above us. It's never going to happen.)
(I'm a monster.)
The few hours of reprieve I find are at night, when the dark settles heavy over the ocean. That's when I'm almost lulled by the laughing waves and the call of long-living creatures that course above and below. I'd be sleeping now, except my strength is waning and I don't want all of my weight to go to my wrists. They might snap, and then I wouldn't be able to pull myself up and it would hurt and I—
I can't think straight anymore.
Something stirs beneath us. I can't put my finger on how I know—at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if it was just another delirious imagining. But it tugs at me even stronger than the waves do—gentle. Seeking.
And on the next roar of the surf, I hear it. The song.
It's like nothing I've ever witnessed before—serpentine and delicate, keening above everything else like a beacon.
I feel its gentle melody draping over my shoulders, making my chin fall forward and my shaking limbs relax. The pressure is terrible, but the voice soothes me into a pillowy darkness, like slipping into a hot bath…
(Although I don't do that often. I keep worrying I'll forget to breathe and turn fully dead.)
I close my eyes as the song wraps around me. I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a breathy cry. The song winds sweetly around me one more time before abruptly slipping away.
I'm cold without it.
The conspirates start making slapping sounds against the deck. I blink and blink through my sun-blind haze and I can almost see the song. Pale and vivid all at once, creeping across the planks of the ship, turning barbed as it gets closer to the creatures manning the oars.
I can't make out the lyrics—I know they're not for me. Mine were golden and syrupy and jeweled. Now they're frenzied, spiny. They do not leave room for any of the enchanting thrall of stories. They are simply a force.
The conspirates crumble before my eyes, nothing but salt spray and discarded jetsam. The ship quakes as a great wave breaks over it, unraveling the ropes that keep me moored.
I'm going under. Salt is filling my lungs and weighing me down and I'm nothing but skin and laden bones and no breath—
Gentle, warm hands wrap around me and pull me deeper.
I open my eyes. They burn.
"Don't do that." Without a doubt, I know the voice. The way it rolls gently through each word. "Half a moment, you'll be fine."
I open my mouth and seawater crashes against my throat. I hear a startled cry as the arms tighten around me.
"By Aquarius, human! Stop dying!"
I close my eyes and bury my face against a warm chest. Surrounded by the scent of cinnamon and ginger, I can hardly stay awake.
At that moment, I'm pulled through the mouth of a cave. Fluorescent fish eddy around us. The voice hums softly, and I'm being borne up by a pocket of air. I'm in the water—I can feel it lapping at my skin—but it's kept back from my face by a layer of oxygen. I cough and splutter and try not to come completely undone.
Then, the boy comes into view. Deep blue eyes and tight bronze ringlets that shine as they hang in front of his face. He leans close to me and taps my nose lightly with one finger.
"Look at you," he breathes as the world around me recedes, the edges fuzzing into darkness. "You're a long way from home."
…
SIMON
The human is wonderful!
My song doesn't hurt him like it does others. It seems to soothe him, though I haven't tried it again because I'm too afraid that the first time was just a fluke. Now he's sleeping the bad sleep in his little cove and I'm watching from a safe distance—so as not to get pulled under by his beauty.
He really is so pretty. Father warns me weekly of humans who try to snare merfolk and keep them as trophies or mastheads. I don't want this one to try anything funny.
He doesn't seem to be able to right now, though. His long lashes are settling over his pale cheeks and he's listless, head lolling, a slow corona of pink spreading beneath him.
I don't know how to heal humans. Whenever I find them dashed against the rocks, their air tubes blocked, I can't seem to revive them.
But those are dead humans. This one isn't yet and I'd like to keep it that way.
I knock on his forehead. This does nothing. I sing into his ear. He swoons forward like a diving fish and settles against me. I wrap my arms around him and hold him closer.
I like him like this. Cocooned in my arms. Breathing, living.
"Gray eyes," I muse. "Ocean gray…"
I don't know what to do. Earlier, I thought about him being able to breathe and he did. But keeping a human's fragile life from snapping is different.
Maybe he's hungry. What do humans eat? I think they like those plastic tubes that I always have to usurp from sea turtles, but I don't have any of those on hand.
I lift his chin, leaning against him. I wish he could show me what he wants.
As my hand grazes his jaw, I feel his lips part. Sticking out beneath his top lip are two fangs. Shark-fangs; sharp, fish-eating fangs. As I stare in fascination—I had no idea humans had these!—he turns his face desperately against my wrist and licks my skin. Just once, and so softly, but I can still feel it.
Oh! He wants to eat me! I object to this for many reasons, but chiefly because if he eats me right now, I won't be able to hear his voice or kiss him on the cheek or ask him why humans don't swim in the ocean more often. And I want all of that. So much.
I manage to pry his fingers from where they've latched around my wrist and gently pull away. He makes a wounded little sound at this that makes me want to cry for some reason, but I don't pause, just whisper "I'll be back, darling," over my shoulder before setting off to hunt.
…
BAZ
I wake up because of the hunger.
The world is soft and submerged. I don't have ropes to thrash against anymore. Just warmth, and the boy.
His hands are filled with small, multicolored fish, and he's swishing them back and forth in front of my face. It's hypnotic. They smell so good that I want to cry.
I think I do, because I feel his warm, water-slick hands on my face. The fish are floating in front of my face still, very much dead.
"Sailor boy," he whispers. "You're back."
And suddenly he's wrapping himself around me, warmth and life and salty skin, and it hurts to be touched. To have him this close.
I start crying harder. He lets me go, bringing a hand to my cheek.
"What's wrong?" he whispers. "Are the fish not to your liking?"
"I—" My voice is rusty, metal-on-metal compared to his. "I'm not—"
"It's okay." He leans closer to whisper in my ear. "I eat them too."
I laugh despite myself. I can't accept that I'm actually here, that this is real. I think I'm going to die.
"Go on, then." He presses a fish clumsily against my lips. "You must be hungry. You tried to eat me earlier."
He says it casually, but I flinch so violently that I dislodge the fish. "Wh—I—"
"Shhh, I'm fine, see? No bite marks!" He smiles brilliantly. "But you're all broken. I thought this might fix you…"
He's trailing off, face pink with shame, and it's only when I feel something tapping nervously at my leg that I look down to see his tail. Beautiful red, with shiny scales. He smiles bigger.
"Didn't you know?"
I can't help but bristle at that, but my voice comes out too hoarsely to sound smug. "Of course."
"Just checking. I know human's ears are just doorways to their brain; wouldn't want any water to sneak through." He flicks water at me playfully. I cringe before I can catch myself, remembering long nights and ruthless waves.
He looks down. "Merlin, I'm sorry."
I don't look at him, simply picking up the nearest fish and turning my profile so he doesn't see my mouth.
They taste so good. I've been so lost, so hungry. I'm throwing my head back and drinking every last one before I can even register what I'm doing.
When I open my eyes, I see bright blues gleaming back at me. His mouth is round with shock, water passing past his lips without so much as a gasp.
He reaches out his hand to touch mine. "Is that enough?"
I—I don't know. I'm dazed by the sparkle of him. The easy smile. But I nod anyway.
"What's your name, sailor boy?"
"I'm not a sailor," I rasp. "I hate the ocean."
The boy flinches. "Hate it? But why were you sleeping on it, then?"
"I didn't have a choice."
He blinks slowly, coming a little closer. "I don't understand."
"I was taken against my will."
"They were hurting you…" He looks lost in thought. "Yes, I remember. It's all a bit murky. I sort of just… followed the song. What it wanted me to do. And I hate conspirates."
I laugh suddenly, a burst of a sound, and the boy lights up at the sight. He's so pretty.
I close my eyes so he doesn't see, but also because if I look at him anymore, I won't be able to keep from kissing him.
"Why did they hurt you?" His voice is soft. He lifts my chin oh-so-gently.
It's been long months since anyone touched me like that.
"I'm a monster," I whisper. "A parasite."
He startles. "What's a parasite? I thought you were human?"
"I'm not. I just look like one, but really I'm a creature who takes life forces without giving anything back."
"Is that what a parasite means?"
"Yes. I believe you have them here, too. They cling to other creatures and steal from them. And oftentimes they leave horrible illness behind."
He tilts his head like a curious bird. "But that's not you."
"What?"
"You don't live on another creature. You don't leave diseases." He touches his own forehead for emphasis. "I'm completely fever-free."
"Can you even get a fever?"
He pauses, shaking his head. "I… yes. I'm a mammal."
"I knew that."
"Of course you did, human."
"I'm not human," I mumble.
He pauses, smiles, and plants a feather-light kiss on my cheek. "Neither am I. And besides, I don't even like humans. They eat plastic monstrosities but don't even throw them away when they're done."
I burst out laughing, though it comes out weak and inhibited by pain.
"My name is Simon." He smiles at me, then grabs one of the fish I drained and takes a bite. Just bones and everything. "And you?"
I have to physically keep myself from staring. It's an effort. "Baz," I whisper. "Pitch."
"Two names?" His face cracks into a grin. "You are fortunate."
I am now. But I don't say that. I wait for Simon to finish eating to speak.
"I have to go home."
He splutters. "Go home? But they'll hurt you there."
I bite my lip′ "Maybe. But I'll be okay."
Simon's eyes are big as saucers. "You want to leave?"
My heart aches. "I have to finish school. And my family—" I choke on the words. "I should tell them I'm okay."
Though they never thought to fish me out of the sea in the first place.
I'm shocked by the tears that start spilling down his cheeks. Could he possibly be grieving for me? Could he want me near him?
"I'll call," I whisper. "When I'm ready."
"And I will hear." His eyes are glowing with hope again as he grabs my arms. "I'll answer, just as soon as you call I'll be there—"
I feel myself melting. "Okay, Simon," I whisper. "I believe you."
"Let me carry you home," he says, his voice already lightening with oncoming music.
"Wait." I choke on the word. I'm not ready.
He cups my cheek. "I'd like to kiss you."
And the words are so frank, so crystal-clear, that I laugh and hide my face in his neck. "People don't just—you can't—"
He tugs gently at my hair. "Can I?"
For me?
Is he serious?
I look into his wonder-filled eyes. His fingers are stroking at my tear-stained cheeks.
"Yes," I whisper, and close the distance.
He tastes like freedom after a long, cold night.
…
His song bears me away and home, perfectly dry, with his kiss still fizzing on my lips. I finish school. I buy a flat. I watch my baby brother grow up.
And when I'm ready, when the tide is fresh, I go to the sea and I call.
The ocean rushes to flood my feet. Warm and soft. There he is, a bobbing shadow pulling himself through the foam. He throws his curls from his eyes and beams up at me.
"Look at you…" I kneel down and take his webbed hands in mine. "You're a long way from home."
He pulls me closer and kisses me, saltwater-sweet. "No I'm not," he whispers. "Not anymore. I found you."
"I… but you're—"
"I found my home," he whispers, hugging my neck and settling once more against my skin. "And I never want to lose it."