A series of scoffs made her cheeks heat despite the cold that was beginning to lose its euphoric effects.
“You’re brave enough to swim in the ocean at night,” the oldest one pointed out.
The beaded one gestured over her shoulder. “And my brother’s mate is human. She’s weak but he doesn’t mind.”
The one with the shorn hair gave her a look of deep concern. “You didn’t give the weakling land-dweller pups, did you? A mer won’t mind raising another’s pups, but you should kill the father first before mating. It will save your new mate from having to do it to avenge his pup’s honor.”
“I don’t think— Wait, merfolk kill people who leave their kids?”
The oldest merwoman flashed a terrifying snarl. “Abandoning pups means letting them die in the dark water or starve in a cove. It’s a fitting punishment.”
Louisa let another wave bob her like the buoy as she absorbed that troubling information. She’d known things were harsher under the water, but that washarsh-harsh.
Feeling a bit like she’d lost what little control she once had of the bizarre interaction, Louisa spat out a mouthful of saltwater before she answered, “Um, no. We talked about kids, but?—”
If she wasn’t so cold, she would’ve jumped at the second explosion of sound from the merwomen. At least this time it seemed to be one of approval rather than outrage.
“Then all is well,” the beaded one exclaimed. “Once you eat his liver, you’ll be full and ready to find a better mate to breed with when the season comes. We will help you.”
Despite the growing stiffness in her limbs and the pain that was beginning to creep back into her skin, Louisa found herself laughing. “You’re a lot nicer than I was led to believe. I thought you’d try to eat me, not find me a partner.”
The one with the shorn hair flicked the water with a haughty sniff. “We only eat the weak and those who trespass. Welikebrave women who dare to swim at night. You’d do well in a pod. You’re weak, but we would protect you.”
The three merwomen nodded and made more of those strange melodic sounds.
Something warm bloomed in Louisa’s chest despite the frigid water doing its best to send her into hypothermia. It felt a lot like acceptance — and there was nothing headier than the acceptance of women.
“Thank you,” she rasped, arms swirling to keep herself afloat. “That… that really means a lot to me.”
“Your lips are turning a strange color,” the oldest one pointed out. “Is that supposed to happen?”
“N-no,” Louisa chattered. “I probably need to get back to shore now.”
“Come here for a moment, then you should go,” the beaded one urged, waving her toward the buoy.
Feeling a bit like her limbs had increased in weight tenfold, Louisa forced herself to wade closer. The fence stood betweenthem, barely visible beneath the dark water. She grasped the frigid metal of the buoy with numb fingers and waited for whatever it was the merwoman wanted to say.
All three drew closer. Placing their hands over hers on the buoy, they leaned as close to the fence they dared.
The strangest sense of togetherness made Louisa’s chest go painfully tight when the beaded one whispered close to her ear, “We’re friends now, brave woman. You can’t be sad about your mate anymore. He’s not worthy of you, and your pod would eat him if he were here.”
The oldest one gave her wrist a gentle squeeze. “We will find you a better mate.”
“And,” the one with the shorn hair offered, “if you bring me his teeth, I will make them into a necklace for you.”
“Wow,” Louisa gasped, “I–I love th–that you do c–crafts. C–can you t–teach m–me?”
The one with the shorn hair puffed up with obvious pride. “I will teach you.”
Overwhelmed by the camaraderie — a thing she’d never gotten before from her own people — Louisa fought back a wave of tears when she said, “I’m Louisa, by the way.”
“Mary Celeste,” the beaded one replied, gesturing to herself. Pointing to the oldest one, then the one with the shorn hair, she introduced, “This is Lydia and Candace.”
“I–it was r–really great to me–meet you tonight,” Louisa said, with some difficulty. She offered the merwomen the strongest smile she could muster under the circumstances — mainly the brutal cold that was slowly stealing the life from her. “But I think I ha–have to go now or I–I’ll die.”
Like it was a funny joke rather than a very real thing that could happen, the merwomen released her hand with a laugh and shooed her back to shore.
“We’ll see you soon, Louisa,” they sing-songed in their strange, hypnotizing accent.
