Read The Mermaid's Curse (California Mermaids Book 1) Online
Authors: Kristina Ludwig
The Mermaid's Curse (California Mermaids Book 1)
The Mermaid’s Curse
California Mermaids #1
Kristina Ludwig
THE MERMAID’S CURSE. Copyrigh
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2014 by Kristina Ludwig. All rights reserved.
A big thank-you to Antonio—you've been with me every step of the way throughout my journey as an author. Thanks for believing in me, and for designing this beautiful book cover. I appreciate your inspiration, your support, your technological and marketing genius…and of course, the fact that you make me happier than I ever thought possible.
Thanks to my family, for awakening in me a love of reading and writing from day one. Thanks for reading a
lifetime
of stories—written and illustrated by yours truly—and for keeping every last one of them. And thanks Mom, for being the one I'm forever bouncing ideas off.
Thanks to my readers, those of you I know as well as those I do not. I appreciate your support! Also, a huge thank you to all my Facebook fans and friends who helped me to choose the cover concept for this book.
And finally, thanks to Nancy Butts, my editor. It’s always a pleasure working with you, and I value your feedback and insight.
Chapter One: Oceania – 1912
The full moon rises, timeless and ancient, its pale white light illuminating the tips of the rising waves. It’s high tide, and the turbulent waters of the Pacific Ocean crash over the rocks and onto the soft sand of the beach, washing away the sand castles built by sightseers earlier that day.
At least that’s what I’ve been told by my older sister Ula, who has ventured above water. I’ve never actually seen the beach, the waves, or much of the moon, for that matter—well, except the filmy half-light that filters through the layers of water to reach me in my safe home on the ocean floor. My parents say a mermaid’s place is underwater until she reaches age eighteen, at which time she’s finally mature enough to make the trek to the surface.
The ocean is as elemental as the moon; it is a force on its own, and cannot be stilled. I could never leave it permanently, but tonight at midnight, I turn eighteen, and can finally experience the world above. Naturally, I’m half-excited and half-terrified by the prospect.
That’s why, even though it’s late, Ula and I are floating outside my parents’ little home among the rocks. Normally, she would be at her house, with her husband Nereus and their adorable five year-old mer-baby Doria, but tonight, she has made an exception.
Ula pokes me on the arm, her eyes shining the same rich blue as the ocean’s depths. “Oceania,” she says. “It is time.”
My stomach twists and wrenches like the body of a slippery eel, but I smile at her. She’s right, of course. Ula can gauge the hour by the angle of the sun or the moon, just by gazing up through the water. That’s her special talent—all of us mermaids have one, although I’m not sure what mine is yet. I’m hoping this will be revealed to me tonight, as I celebrate my newfound adulthood under the full moon.
I widen my smile, the way I always do when things seem daunting and scary. My mother tells me that we can face anything with a smile.
Ula, however, rolls her eyes. “You’re grinning like a baby dolphin.” She places a stilling hand around my shoulders, which have begun to quiver with nerves. “Look,” she adds more softly, “I know it’s scary to venture to the surface for the first time. But it’s something you have to do.” Her eyes darken with intensity. “Only then will you discover your true place on earth—land or ocean.”
“But c-c-can’t you come with me?” I hate myself for the way my voice shakes, but I just can’t help it. I look away from Ula’s face, focusing instead on a yellowfin tuna nearby—anything to prevent her from noticing that I’m ready to burst into tears.
“No, I can’t,” Ula replies. “I’ve chosen the ocean, after all. And even if I could, why would you want that? I can’t hold your hand through this. You have to do it yourself.”
I twist a section of my fine, wavy hair, trying to occupy my anxious hands. “Okay.” I emit a high-pitched giggle, and the little tuna fish scuttles away in alarm.
Ula’s lips have quirked upwards in a half-smile. “I love you, little sister. Now go.” With a quick kiss on the cheek, she shoves me toward the surface.
There’s no turning back now. Guided by the light of the moon, I use my strong tail and arms to propel myself away from my family’s home on the ocean floor, and toward the other side: the strange and foreign realm beyond.
Chapter Two: Xavier - 1912
I close my eyes and sit back on the smooth-topped boulder by the ocean’s edge. The rocks here at Point Joe are my favorite spot of Monterey’s 17-mile drive; they’re the perfect place to come when I’m feeling out of sorts. Every so often, a particularly vicious wave crashes against the rocks like a train wreck, splashing me from head to toe with salt spray. I don’t worry about it, though. I have always felt a deep and passionate affinity toward the sea, and I don’t mind the clammy feeling of my damp trousers or the way the tangy breeze whips pieces of hair across my forehead.
My favorite moments are ones like these, when I’m alone and listening to the symphony of nature. The ocean has all the elements of a great musical masterpiece: gentle, rolling melodies when the water is calm, and the jarring, cacophonous roar of the high tide on nights like tonight, embellished by the raucous caws of the sea gulls. I can see why Debussy, one of my favorite composers, wrote
La Mer
, an entire piece of music about it.
But now, there’s another sound. Somewhere from the depths of the ocean comes a soft, sweet tune, like a siren’s song.
I force my eyes open and shake my head back and forth. Of course, this is only my imagination. It has been a long day, and I’ve only just escaped the dinner party with my father, mother, and all their friends. The mysterious strains of the siren’s song are most likely the fanciful product of the wine, whisky, and brandy that were flowing plentifully during our seven-course meal.
Yet, still, there is something odd tonight, something more than the pull of the full moon, more than the general holiday feeling that I’ve had ever since my family and I came to our summer house here in Monterey. I watch the water, with the waves glittering like living things under the white light of the moon, and the sea foam hissing over the rocks.
A particularly turbulent wave rumbles in; in its wake, I hear the song again and just barely discern a faint glimmer of aquamarine beneath the water’s surface.
The ethereal light grows and the melody amplifies, rising to a fantastic crescendo that sends shivers up my spine. Then, the surface of the water breaks and the head of a beautiful woman emerges in a halo of silver and blue light.
I blink hard, rubbing my bleary eyes with the back of my hand. I’ve lived twenty-one years without spectacles, but perhaps my vision is going. Or, more likely, it’s the alcohol I consumed earlier, playing tricks on me.
But all my blinking, squinting, and eye rubbing do me no good. This really is a woman, with fine, high cheekbones and cornsilk hair that shines as brightly as the moon itself. Her white skin glistens with water droplets, and seems almost incandescent.
My mouth drops open in disbelief as she glances over at me. She continues her song completely uninhibited, gliding toward me so fluidly that I wonder how she could possibly be kicking her legs under the water. Perhaps she’s not. She could be a mermaid.
Of course, I’ve heard tales of mermaids, luring sailors to their deaths with their lovely forms and dulcet songs. I’ve even heard that many sailors, practically delirious after months at sea, have mistaken manatees for mermaids—an error that I can’t fathom. This magnificent female is certainly no sea cow.
She continues her song until she has reached my side. Then, with a soft grunt of exertion, she hoists herself up onto the rock beside me. She smells of salt and sand, and her waist-length hair feels like seaweed as it brushes my arm.
I open my mouth to speak, but no words emerge. She is a mermaid, wearing some kind of crude brassiere fashioned of a mosaic of colorful seashells. Her long tail glimmers gold, silver, and blue in the moonlight.
“Hello,” she says, as calmly as if she were a friend of the family, coming over for a mid-afternoon luncheon and perhaps a round of golf. She smiles, her teeth as white and shiny as a strand of pearls.
“Hello,” I croak, clearing my throat. Suddenly, my whole mouth has gone dry. The mermaid and I stare at each other for what seems like eternity, and her dazzling sea-colored eyes search my face.
“That song—your voice—it’s so beautiful,” I say at last.
The mermaid giggles. “Really? Thanks. Maybe that’s my special talent. We all have one, you know, but I have no idea what mine is.”
“I would say it’s a special talent,” I say, nodding. “Not often do I get chills from hearing someone sing. A voice like yours belongs in the finest opera houses. I can’t believe that you’ve gone through life without knowing how incredible your voice is. You’re—how old?”
“I just turned eighteen. But all of us mermaids sing, so I didn’t think my voice was anything special. I’m Oceania, by the way.”
“Oceania,” I repeat, smiling. “It suits you.” I stare at her, suddenly feeling an almost elemental pull to both the ocean and her, but a moment later I mentally scold myself for forgetting my manners. Quickly, I hold out my hand, hoping desperately to redeem myself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Oceania. I’m Xavier Rose, visiting for the summer from San Francisco.”
A small wrinkle forms on the delicate skin between her eyebrows as she stares at my outstretched hand, but a moment later, she takes her cue and shakes it. “It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Xavier Rose. You are the first human I’ve ever met.” Then, grinning at me, she says, “I have come from the sea to celebrate my birthday under the full moon. Perhaps you can show me around?”
Chapter Three: Oceania
Over the years, Ula has regaled me with stories of humans, and told me that many human men are good-looking. However, her descriptions could never do this man justice. When I surface, he is the first thing my eyes land upon, and his handsomeness strikes me like a twenty-foot wave. His hair is dark and wavy, his skin swarthy. His body is muscular and powerful, his features so strong that they appear to be chiseled, like the rocks on which he sits.
As I pull myself out of the water and greet him, I’m surprised that I feel none of the shyness that I would normally experience when meeting a new merman, especially such an attractive one. Perhaps it’s because everything here is so new and different that I’ve forgotten all about my nerves.
Or perhaps it’s because there’s something about this man that puts me instantly at ease. He’s so nice, telling me that I have a wonderful singing voice. No one has ever told me that before. I decide that I like this Xavier Rose—such a strange, exotic name, just as he himself is strange and exotic.
When I ask him to show me around, however, he wrinkles his forehead. “I would love to,” he says. “But how? I could swim with you, I suppose, but—” He trails off as his eyes land on my fins. “—you’re not really equipped for land.”
I laugh. “I know it might seem that way. But we mermaids change into humans when we’re dry, and back into mermaid form when we’re wet.” Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never actually tried it myself.
Xavier’s long-lashed brown eyes widen, and I realize that I can see myself in their dark mirrors. However, there’s so much more in his eyes than my own reflection—there’s kindness, and a sparkle that tells me he has a passion for life. I wonder what this man does. I can feel a certain sensitivity behind all his strength. Perhaps he’s a poet, or a painter.
“So all I have to do is dry off,” I continue, shivering a bit as the cool night air whooshes over my skin.
Xavier grins. “In that case, let’s get you onto the beach.”
He stands on the rock, heaving me up into his arms effortlessly. My breath hitches as he carries me over the jagged boulders, finally setting me down on a dry spot in the sand.
“Here, Oceania.” He removes his jacket and helps me into it; it’s slightly damp, but guards me against the chill of the windy surface world. Plopping down on the sand next to me, he gently massages his hands up and down my arms from outside the jacket, and I feel my entire body heating up, starting with my arms and extending all the way to my heart.
I never want him to stop, but when he drapes his arm over my shoulder, I realize that this feels even better. I relax into his embrace, leaning my head against his broad chest. For a long moment, time stops. We gaze out at the ocean; it’s just as Ula had described it, with white-tipped waves rolling over each other and the rocks in tumultuous rhythm. Here, the moon is so brilliant and luminous, not at all like the filtered view I’d always had through the water. I hum lightly under my breath, a tune my mother taught me, called
Song of the Sea
.
“I could listen to you all night,” Xavier says in a husky voice, burying his lips in my hair.
I shiver at his touch, wondering what his lips would feel like on mine. He’s so masculine, but he has a softness about him, too. “I could sing to you all night.”
“Well, let’s do that,” Xavier says. “I know the perfect place to take you once you’ve transformed.”
He glances at my lower half, and I follow his gaze. My tail has begun to tingle as the breezy air wafts over it, and I wince when I feel a slight burning sensation. A moment later, my scales gradually begin to dull and fall away, revealing a layer of skin, as pale and white as the moon.
“Are you okay?” Xavier asks, tearing his eyes away from the transformation and staring at my face. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.” It’s not the worst pain I’ve ever experienced—once I was accidentally bitten by a playful baby shark, and that had hurt far worse. But just the same, I grimace as my tail and the remaining scales crack away and fall into the sand, revealing two smooth legs and two little feet with shiny, aqua-colored toenails. My only covering, besides my seashell top, is a light layer of green seaweed that reaches to my upper thighs.
Xavier’s mouth drops open as he stares at my legs, but a moment later he shakes his head and averts his gaze.
“Let’s walk,” he says quickly. He stands first, and then reaches down, helping me up with both hands. I notice that even when he’s looking at me from above, he keeps his eyes away from my bare legs, as though he’s embarrassed to see so much flesh. Perhaps he is—Ula told me that humans, particularly the females, are very peculiar about exposing their bodies, and even their bathing costumes hardly show their legs.
I scramble awkwardly to my feet, and scrunch my toes into the sand for stability. “This feels wonderful!” I exclaim, wriggling my toes through the sand. The tingling and burning feelings have subsided, but my legs do quiver a bit under the unaccustomed weight.
Xavier laughs and kicks off his own shoes, doing the same. “You’re right, Oceania. Feeling the sand between our toes is such a simple pleasure, and one that we can so easily forget. But it really does feel splendid, doesn’t it?”
A moment later, however, he stops laughing and asks, “So, do you think you can walk? I mean, you never tried it before, right?”
I nod. “Right. But I think, with your help, I can.”
Xavier laces his arm through mine, and together we walk down the beach by the light of the moon, wobbly at first, but soon falling into a nice strolling rhythm. Finally, I feel comfortable enough with my new legs to look up at the sky and walk at the same time. The stars glisten like mermaids’ tears, each different and perfect.
We walk to a spot where the sand meets the water’s edge, and I squeal in delight as the waves lap over my toes.
“I love it here,” I proclaim, but I jerk my feet out of the water as my toes begin to tingle.
“What’s wrong?” Xavier asks, tightening his grip on my arm.
“I just forgot that once I’m in human form, I can’t get wet or I’ll change back into a mermaid.”
“That’s important to know,” Xavier says, reaching down and drying my feet with his jacket. He glances toward some huge houses near the beach. Many of them are darkened for the midnight hour, but some still have lights in the windows that shine as brightly as the stars. “Come with me, Oceania. It’s time that I show you around.”