The Necklace Read online

  Oh my Gawd.

  All her fingers had webbed, and a slick coating covered her arms. Her nails had grown longer and sharper, and the hairs on her arm were longer, more prominent.

  Fear began to pound furiously through her veins. Astounded and panicked, she looked down toward the rest of her body…

  Good Lord Almighty!

  A long, golden brown fin molded to her hips, ending in a six-foot long fish tail. Marissa wanted to believe it was some sort of sick joke, but when she wriggled what would have been her feet. The fin swished and swayed.

  No! It can’t be! It’s not possible.

  Marissa tried to scream, tried to sound her panic. But her throat constricted, fluid filling her lungs. Horrifically startled, she realized she was still in the water, and although the difference between air and liquid was barely recognizable, Marissa struggled. Her heart lurching when she raised her arms to cover her eyes, the sight of her webbed fingers scared her more than ever.

  Frantic, strength poured through her, and she broke the wires connected to her, stopping the muted beeping in the background. Moving toward the thick, acrylic barrier, her fingers trailed along the cool surface, confusion and fear needling her mind as her reflection appeared before her.

  She looked just like a mythological picture she’d once seen in a book.

  Her long blonde hair floated around her, breasts bare, her azure blue eyes intense and radiant, a long fin glistening brightly with golden-brown scales.

  She looked like a—mermaid. Just like the kind seen in movies and cartoons. Had she not been staring at her own reflection, Marissa might not have believed it. But the proof stared right at her, surrounded her.

  She wanted to rebel, wanted to reject it, but denying the truth was impossible. Her whole life she’d known she was different. Marissa had accepted it, uneasily, but she always found a way to deal. Yet to finally understand the why brought a thousand questions.

  How could she not have known?

  How had her mother kept it a secret?

  What was she?

  How did she breathe?

  Were there more like her?

  Over and over, questions pummeled inside her, begging for answers.

  Turning away, she swam to the corner of the small tank. Although she’d never taken a single swimming lesson in her life, instincts took over, and her tail swayed so she moved gracefully through the water.

  The waves in the tank rippled, caressing her skin. But the tingling sensations did little to soothe her restless mind.

  All of her life, the only constant had been the search for normalcy in a world she didn’t quite fit into. Growing up, her mother had guarded and protected her to almost an intolerable limit. She’d never had a chance to spread her wings. When she finally broke from under the confining atmosphere, Marissa vowed to never be restricted again. But trying to find her niche in place where she never felt comfortable had proven difficult.

  To finally discover she didn’t belong at all shocked Marissa to the core of her being.

  Moving toward the opposite side of the tank, she glanced warily through the transparent barrier. She wasn’t in a hospital. She’d figured that out a long time ago. She was in an observation tank inside the institute. The one they used for the smaller size dolphins and seals.

  Vaguely, the notion occurred she was the one who’d been captured.

  She was the one under the lights being studied.

  God! I’ve been such a fool. How could I not have known?

  Because you lie to self. You not accept who you are.

  Nyla’s comforting, childlike voice filled her mind, and Marissa halted in the water. Although she couldn’t see her, Marissa sensed the mammal nearby.

  What do you mean?

  You hate truth. You not want to accept. Afraid were you.

  Suspicion filled her mind. How did you know?

  Me know you are Eritrean.

  But I’m not.

  Still hide from truth you do.

  Marissa’s eyes drifted toward her image. Her long, muscular tail flipped back and forth reflexively, holding her still in the buoyancy of the water, as Nyla’s words seeped into her consciousness.

  Marissa remembered her continued refusal to understand the differences in her body. During the last six months, she’d come up with more excuses than a death row inmate headed toward the electric chair. When she couldn’t explain the strange things happening to her, she found some convenient ways to ignore them.

  Marissa closed her eyes, realizing she’d done this her entire life. I didn’t want to understand, Nyla. The changes scared me. I just wanted to be normal.

  Me not know normal? You are Eritrean.

  Marissa wished she could laugh. Nyla’s simplistic understandings were like a balm to her flustered soul. She wanted to talk more, but a vibration in her mind titillated her senses.

  Two males were approaching.

  The loud sounds of their heartbeats reverberated in her ears.

  Closing her mind to Nyla, Marissa peered around the room, watching wearily as Jon and Brian approached.

  “We thought you'd never wake up. So nice to see you’re still alive, and whole.” Brian’s self-satisfied tone grated her already frazzled nerves. His voice muffled through the water, but she could hear him clearly.

  “Marissa the Mermaid. How does that sound? Can you understand me?” He nodded to her, but Marissa stayed still, refusing to rise to his bait. “I guess it doesn’t matter if you can’t. People talk to fish all the time, right?” He laughed, waving an arm toward the tank, “I have to admit, Marissa, this is slightly surprising. And I try never to be surprised. But you’ve done it. I hope that makes you happy.” Brian paused, and she tensed at the cold, calculating look in his eyes. “Guess who’s going to be the main attraction now? I don’t think you even need to guess though, do you?”

  Jon cleared his throat, and Marissa’s attention turned toward him. Taking in his haggard appearance, she saw that his face was pale and tired looking, the lines around his mouth were stretched so tight he looked ready to crack.

  Marisa frowned at the perplexing emotions careening through her mind. She could sense Jon’s guilt, Brian’s maniacal thoughts. Both of their emotions poured through her with the force of a tidal wave, startling in their clarity.

  Concentrating on blocking the unpleasant sensation, she focused on the spears of rage building inside her.

  Jon had to have known. But for all these years, he'd kept her in the dark, never once revealing the truth. Dark and hateful suspicion crawled in her mind. And though she didn’t want to believe, she knew he had never planned to tell her. Gliding around to face him again, she didn’t even try to hide the abhorrence in her eyes.

  Jon flinched, quickly looking away.

  Marissa’s long hair floated with the waves of the water, clouding her vision. Dejection sat heavily upon her chest as she wondered about her fate. Obviously she would become an attraction. A sideshow freak to amuse the world at large. After the end of her usefulness, she’d be dissected for the greater good of science.

  Marissa wanted to cry at the irony.

  “I still can’t believe it,” Brian continued. “And, all this time you’ve been living and working among us.” He stepped closer, his hot breath making rings against the acrylic surface. “I should have pushed you in the water a long time ago,” he whispered, before stepping back and raising his voice. “I’m on my way to call Felix. He’s definitely going to want to see you. So don’t go anywhere, okay.”

  Brian laughed as he strode away, the doors banging shut with his departure.

  “I’m sorry, Marissa. So terribly sorry,” Jon sighed, his voice thick.

  Marissa railed in her mind. How could she still feel concern for a man who’d deceived and lied to her? Pushing the disturbing thought away, she swam to the bottom of the tank, laying the full length of her tail on the bottom.

  Bending at the waist, she ran her hands against the scaly surface of he
r lower body, bemused and frightened by the changes. When she looked back at Jon, she knew her eyes conveyed the questions tormenting her mind.

  Jon stood silent for a moment, before grabbing a nearby chair next to the tank. The loud sounds of metal scraping against the floor sounded harsh to her ears, and she flinched against the noise.

  “I’ll never forget the day your mother brought you to me. You were still just a baby, and I was still in medical school.”

  Jon sighed loudly, his gaze roaming around the room. “Your mother was afraid to take you to a hospital because she found you on the beach at Cabrillo Cove. Your birth mother,” Jon covered his eyes, his voice cracking, “your real mother died in child birth. Sarah didn’t really tell me any details.”

  Rising from his chair slowly, Jon walked toward her tank, running the tips of his finger along the surface.

  Marissa felt a riot of emotions in his mind—anger, fear, guilt—and she looked away, afraid to let him see how his words affected her.

  “I realize now, I didn’t want to know the details. I-I loved Sarah. I didn’t want to cause her any more pain. She’d already suffered enough.” Jon paused, his eyes taking on a far away look. “So I registered your birth through some contacts I had at the hospital, and I helped her create the lie you’ve lived your whole life.” Jon sighed, leaning forward, his eyes piercing. “But I knew you weren’t like other babies. Sarah knew you weren’t like other babies.”

  Marissa recoiled backwards, water flowing against her skin.

  No! She screamed in her mind.

  The truth is too painful. My entire life can’t be built on deceit.

  Inside, her heart tightened with denial, but there was no escape—not this time.

  “Even as a toddler, you showed an amazing degree of intellectual aptitude. You were walking and talking months before your peers, even your growth rate was astounding.”

  Jon took a deep breath, and Marissa could hear the rush of oxygen leaving his lungs.

  In her mind, she continued to rail against him. His turmoil, her turmoil, coalesced into one, the unwavering veracity of the words trickling into her consciousness.

  “For a while, Sarah ignored how different you were. She was just so happy to have you in her life. You were a breath of fresh air, and she needed you more than you will ever know.” Marissa felt Jon’s gaze boring into her. “But that all changed when you were seven.”

  Marissa’s mind flashed back. Though, this time, her thoughts were clear, unclouded.

  She remembered the balloon hitting her, water splashing against her unguarded skin. She’d collapsed against the soft surface of the grass, pain filling her pores.

  Her mother stood above, her face filled with agony as she covered her with a blanket. Her body was changing. She’d felt it in the marrow of her bones.

  I can’t breathe. I’m dying!

  Marissa grabbed a hold of her head, shaking herself to clear the memory.

  She needed to scream, to cry aloud, but water filled her lungs and her mouth opened uselessly. Looking up, hoping to discover this was all a bad dream, she encountered the soft pleading gaze in Jon’s eyes.

  A range of emotions crossed his face: anguish, torment, fear. His feelings mirrored her own troubled thoughts, and she looked away.

  “I’m sorry, Marissa, so very sorry. If you blame anyone it’s me you should look to.” Jon cried, and again Marissa felt a surge of remorse for the man she loved and admired. “I didn’t want this. Please believe me,” he breathed. “I only thought I was doing what was best.”

  Shuddering, Marissa glanced away as his memories assaulted her mind. She glimpsed Sarah’s love and concern for a child not her own.

  A child wholly different than she expected.

  She recognized Jon’s growing obsession with the sea, a fascination directly attributed to her. She understood his lust for discovery, his desire to learn more about her origins. She saw his need for recognition and respect in tandem with the inevitable breakdown, as he decided to use her for gain and profit.

  Watching the distressing play-by-play, guilt waylaid her being. Truly she was the one responsible for this mess. No one could be blamed but her. If she’d been born normal, none of this would have happened.

  The weight of life rested upon Marissa’s shoulders, and she dropped her head against the strain, her mind crying aloud at the injustice, at the losses sustained.

  Tylan, her mind wailed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “The devastation isn’t total, your majesty. But, I fear this assault will have lasting consequences.”

  “And you are sure this is an attack by the Dissidents?”

  “They left their calling card, my Lord.” Cowan gestured toward the symbols on the walls.

  Narrowing his eyes, his gaze roamed the destruction, looking dispassionately at the Eritrean word scrawled in blood before him.

  Ra’ul.

  “Chaos does seem an apropos description, my Lord.” Cowan cleared his throat. “Your majesty, this has gone far beyond the stunts they have tried in the past. And now that they are heavily armed, I fear it will only get worse.”

  Tylan sighed, weariness beating at his soul.

  During this time of the day, the road should be crowded with Eritreans. It was the main thoroughfare of a bustling and active city of commerce.

  Yet today the street stood silent.

  Burned bodies, warriors and civilians, were piled high, and the smell of blood and rotting flesh permeated the air.

  The destruction weighed on Tylan heavily. Exhaling a long breath, he walked away from Cowan to think.

  His eyes were drawn to the prone figure of a young child face down in a pool of blood. She couldn’t have been more than five or six years of age. But her brunette curls were soiled and soaked from wounds, the skin on her arms blackened from a propulsion blast, from the looks of it, at close range.

  Rage pierced Tylan’s mind.

  How could anyone destroy the life of one so young and innocent?

  Panting angrily, he clenched and unclenched his fist, his wrath a tangible thing manifesting in the air. Working to calm his wild surge of powers, Tylan focused on the one thing that would bring him peace.

  Marissa.

  Her face appeared in his mind, and he concentrated on the nuances of her appearance, on the natural blush of her cheeks, the fullness of her lips. All of her features came to Tylan with clarity. And, as quickly as it came, all traces of anger left him in a rush of energy.

  It disturbed him greatly not to be able to sense her, not to be able to feel her presence in his mind. The distance separating them, as well as the xerilon enforced borders, prohibited him from reaching out to her.

  He needed to feel her, mentally and physically, but looking down at the dead child below him, duty to his realm called with insistent fervor.

  Leaning over the girl, he said a quick prayer, hoping her soul found peace and tranquility in the Heavens above.

  Turning, he stalked back toward Cowan and the group of warriors behind him.

  “Summon the senate to the royal palace.” Tylan thought for a moment then said, “No, summon them here. Let them all see the destruction for themselves. I will have no rumors bandied about. Nor anyone questioning my response to this travesty.”

  “As you will, my Lord,” Cowan answered.

  Also, send a detachment of warriors to guard my Lady and the delaphin. I left Arvlin with her, but—he is young.

  Consider it done, your majesty.

  * * * *

  Tylan frowned at the members of the seven councils assembled in the remnants of the Liacin senate hall.

  Seven men and six women stared back angrily.

  An empty chair, situated at the end of the long, stone table, opposite his position at the head, remained vacant for the Liacin senator who died in today’s battle.

  Tylan’s eyes fixed on the seat, and he wished Seeron, son of Keel, were here. The elderly senator had always been a voice of
reason. Yet, when Tylan walked through the town earlier today, surveying the damage, he and his warriors found Seeron dead, his body mutilated.

  Raising his voice, Tylan spoke firmly, “I do not take this decision lightly. But if we are to have an accord with the Dissidents, we must first reckon with them.”

  Zaron of Creeton rose, pounding his fist against the table. “I don’t see why we must have an accord at all! The Dissidents deserved to be destroyed. Every single one of them!” Lifting his fist, he opened his palm, waving a hand around the council room. “Look what they did today! One hundred warriors killed and over three hundred civilian causalities have been counted, with more being added by the second! Yet you expect us to reach out a hand to these infidels,” Zaron paused, before regaining his seat. “That is pure foolishness, my Lord.”

  “It’s good you added, my Lord, at the end of that tirade, Zaron, son of Dayal. Or I would be forced to end your life for the disrespect in your tone.”

  The entire council drew quiet at the vehemence in his voice, and Zaron turned away, an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.

  Silence engulfed the room for several more moments before Prita, one of the two senators from the province of Gazal, stood up from her seat.

  Tylan exhaled noisily, remembering the woman’s penchant for “riding the fence.”

  “My Lord, an end to the hostilities would ultimately be in the best interest of all Eritrea. But, on the other hand, I also understand Senator Zaron’s point of view. How can we bargain with the Dissidents?”

  Tylan shook his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Zaron took up a similar posture.

  “I am not asking you to bargain with them, Senator Prita. I am saying it’s time to listen and understand their demands,” Tylan began warily. “For too long, this council has dismissed their claims.”

  “With good reason,” several voices echoed.

  “Not with good reason,” Tylan countered. “The Dissidents are not a place or even an established folk. We cannot draw swords against them and fight a typical war. Yet continue to ignore them and we will see more violence.”