I couldn’t see.My eyes wouldn’t open—it was like the muscles wouldn’t work.I tried to blink, but again, nothing.Instead, I felt around, touching the floor and surface around me.The floor felt like polished marble—and my hand caught pant legs, near a knee, and I slapped my hand around, trying to find the person’s hand.
“Not there,” Brother Al’s voice groaned.
“Sorry,” I hissed.
“Wipe the juice from your eyes.It’s Siren Spit.It’s a paralytic.Freezes your muscles, causes a light sedative effect depending on skin contact.”
I did my best, scrubbing away with my sleeves, and soon enough, as I wiped, I could see the room slowly start to reveal itself as my eyelids started working again.
“What happened?”I asked.
“A siege.Mermen—sirens, I should say, though they are hardly the demigod spawn they once were in the olden days.Mermen are genetic dumpsters—omnivorous gluttons that are equal opportunity hunters, no matter your race or origin.Imagine a water-lurking bullfrog, filled with spite, sanctimonious behavior, and an urge to inflict suffering.”
“You didn’t prepare for this?”
“Why would I?It’s been understood they’ve been extinct for some centuries.Ever since whaling went out of fashion.”
“How are those things connected?”
“It’s a long story,” Brother Al said.
I looked around the cell, all around me.The floor was white, pearlescent, and the walls were a gently glowing blue as if carven ocean-stained stone had been placed.Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the strings of a harp being played.An elaborate looking spread of food sat on a table carved from shells in the far corner—near enough shrimp to kill a person, and an elaborately decorated and trussed series of seabirds—seagull, pelican, and tern, in turn.
“This looks pretty swanky,” I said.“Where are Eddie and Vic?”
“I’m not sure,” Brother Al said.“We were separated in the siege.Vic tried to release the demon, I think, but it fled instead of assisting us in fighting.”
“What do you think’s gonna happen?”I asked.
Brother Al’s face was pointed.
“I’m not sure,” he said.“They are man-eaters, Mermen are.I am concerned that I know what happened to the other crew.”
“But look at this place,” I said.
“I know,” he said.
“Should I eat something?I hate to say it, but that Pelican looks amazing.”
“I would avoid it, were I you,” he said.
“It’s just that I skipped lunch.”
“You don’t want to know what Mermen find edible,” he said.“Are you familiar with the concept of a turducken?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Imagine a pelican filled with jellyfish that have supped on human blood,” he said.
“Oh,” I said.“When did you become an expert?”
“Mermen used to be a constant foil for those of us who worked as whalers.Whales were seen as holy spirits, you see—and so we fell afoul of them.Seeing their Gods brought low by land-lovers cracked their religious spirit.Soon, most Merman society in the Atlantic died out, due to civil war and fighting.Their culture was extremely hierarchal and theocratic.Or at least.That’s what the word was, back in the day.”
“Clearly you were missing part of the story,” I said.
“Clearly,” Brother Al said.
“So, you were a whaler?”
