Ride the Moon: An Anthology (25 page)

Now, he glances between the letters on the table and the full moon in the sky. From here, he can just make out her signature and its adornment—and the shadows on the moon that look like blossoms.

Blood racing, Ambrose holds his breath all the way to the front door and rests his hand on the knob. “I'm watching you,” he whispers. “You're never alone.” Palms sweaty, mouth dry, he opens the door. He's cut himself off from everything because he can't bear to walk alone, but perhaps isolation isn't the answer. Perhaps he ought to try to live—he has so much life left after all.

The street sprawls before him, bathed in silver and black, everything sharp, everything clear. Cherry blossoms wither, but the moonlight is forever. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and steps out into the night.

Perhaps, if it was a more sensational world, the moonlight might burn his skin and the trees might burst into song. Instead, when he opens his eyes, nothing has changed—only now he knows he doesn't have to face forever alone, imprisoned in an unloved house with an unloved rug. Lena may be gone, but she will always be there, just as she always has, and the sky will never be empty again.

Semor surveyed the quiet streets, his heart thumping against his ribs. Everyone with a bit of sense would stay indoors tonight. It was a full moon, a dangerous and ill-omened time when everyone and everything showed their true face.

But if he turned back now, his life was forfeit, and he'd never see Adelia again.

He stalked the narrow streets of the town, stacked high with stone buildings, crowded by whispering trees. The moon silvered the cobbles and gave the foliage voice. A bird flapped down from a roof and he pressed himself to the shadow of a doorway as it writhed and grew, scales forming on its legs and curled claws and it screamed, taking off, black against the moon.

The black mermaid, the sea goddess, lived off these shores, in the haunted waters of the bay. While traveling around the world, seeking answers, he'd heard rumours that she collected the souls the currents of the world brought her; that she kept them in oyster shells and clams and nursed them.

Semor didn't believe in gods or fate, but in desperate times one did desperate things.

Unlike other creatures, the black mermaid did not transform, and did not exist at any other time; it was the full moon that brought her to life, carved her out of water and darkness.

So here Semor stood, mercenary fighter and faithless man, in search of his lost soul.

A calm pond of water reflected the moon. He leaned over it, knowing what he would see—or rather what he wouldn't: his own reflection. It was six months back when he'd first noticed it, after a hard battle up north; when he'd picked up a fallen man's shield and found his soul gone. He'd looked for his own face in every polished surface since then, hoping against all hope that he'd been mistaken, but nothing ever stared back from shiny metal or still water.

Without a soul, he was a dead man walking.

A winged horse galloped by and took off into the sky, dragging its hapless rider who hung from the saddle, whimpering. Semor slid along the groaning walls where old bones and flesh embedded for centuries clamoured for release. He inched across the street, keeping an eye out for any other transformed creatures, and followed the sound of the crashing waves towards the beach. The smell of rotting seaweed and fish was getting stronger and the creaking of boats sitting on the sand and rocks filled his ears.

He was perhaps the only being in this town not affected by the moon—because he had no soul for it to drag in its ripping tides. A growl to his right stopped him and he crouched low, watched as a woman crawled by, flesh hanging from her bones, her face a skull. The dead were awake now too, and he cast a worried glance in the direction she had come from. A cemetery so close to sea?

Semor gripped the handle of his dagger, but didn't unsheathe it, not yet. The woman passed, leaving smears of flesh and gore behind, and the yowl of dogs rang out. They jumped after her, eyes glowing, huge fangs bared, made again into wolves of old that haunted children's tales.

At least she was already dead. He had to make it alive until he found his soul, or else he'd never see Adelia again, and without Adelia, what was there to live for?

He skulked along the crumbling houses, the sea a pulsing presence ahead, calling to every fiber of his being. All souls were water, rolling and retreating with the tides, moved by the planets and the comets, controlled by the forces of the cosmos.

His soul was out there, and the black mermaid could give it back to him
. But at what cost?
his mind screeched in fear.

At whatever cost it takes.
He'd seen men destroyed by the aftermath of war, empty shells waiting to fade. Men with no purpose. No beginning. No end. Haunts that didn't know they were dead already.

The memory of Adelia's face, her body, the way she spoke his name, that was all he had, all that grounded him on earth.

Semor raked a hand through his hair. He'd fought enough battles and had gathered enough money to propose to her, to marry her. He had to live. Because he finally had something to live for.

The ground shook, tendrils of green shooting up to curl against stone facades and twist around fences and iron gates. The moon would soon be at its peak, at the summit of the sky. Not much time left. Cursing, he started to run.

Mouths snapped at him as he exposed himself at last. Snakes flew by, beating huge leathery wings. Crabs advanced in hordes, mounted one on top of the other. Fish crawled on the sand, mouths opening and closing as if about to speak.

He could see it now, the path painted by the moon on the water. The sea moaned and heaved, but the path remained calm in its midst, leading deep.

He threw his dagger to the sand, toed off his boots, and jumped into the frigid water.

Adelia
. Her face filled his thoughts as he swam out into the sea, every strong stroke taking him farther from the safety of shore. The moon awoke everyone, and the sea was full of life.

Something swam beneath him, long and dark, and he sped up, his breath coming in pants. A tentacle wrapped around his leg and he tore at it with his bare hands, sinking. He managed to slip out of its hold and swim back to the surface. The pale lunar light showed him swarms of fish under the surface, swirling in liquid silver. They scattered as he reached them and then burst all around him, fluttering on translucent butterfly wings, skimming the surface. He batted at them, then dived under and surfaced some way off.

The cold was starting to slow him, and his heart hammered so hard it might break a rib, when what felt like claws grabbed his waist and dragged him down, kicking and squirming.

Down to the deeper blue.

Deeper and deeper they sank, past twisted scaled bodies that transformed before his eyes into winged birds and back into their serpentine nature, past corals that sprouted leaves and flowers then retracted again, past dolphins that grew legs and arms as they swam by, long hair sprouting from their heads.

He writhed and tried to see what had got him but he only caught glimpses of fins and huge tails. His air was running out and fear pumped his blood faster in his veins. He kicked and pulled but couldn't get free.

Adelia
, he thought, every thought now wearing her face, her smile, every form he saw becoming her, surrounding him. “Adelia!”

Maybe this was dying. Maybe without a soul he'd just dissipate in the clear water.

The descent slowed and a dark silhouette rose before him, at least thrice his height, all black in the milky water. The dark face lifted and pale eyes the colour of clear skies found him.

The black mermaid.

She reached out, clamping her hands on his arms, and they shot upward, to the surface. They broke through in a fountain of crystal. The water fell with tinkling noises around them, drop after sparkling drop, as if time had slowed. A glittering eel flew against the moon on wings of gossamer.

He drew breath, his lungs burning. She released him, then, and they floated facing each other, he a fleck on the shield of her face.

“Semor of Twenor,” she said in an echoing voice, as though they were still underwater, and his heart boomed in fear.

“You know my name.”

“I know all names under the firmament.” Her form diminished, shrinking before him, until he saw her eye to eye. Her long black hair, entwined with green weeds, trailed on the calm sea and her black tail lashed, breaking the mirror of the sky. “I am a collector of souls. I steal them, bargain for them, catch them in my nets. All water currents lead to me. And they have brought you.” The moon reflected in her eyes like twin coins. “What have you come to ask for?”

“My soul.” As far as the eye could see, the sea lay flat and shimmering like metal, and haze curled on its edges. “Have you seen it?”

“Seen it? Smelled it? Felt it?” Her mouth smiled, her eyes flashed. “I have. It looks like a moth with mottled wings. It smells like a field drenched in the first rain. It feels like a pebble caught inside a wound.”

“You know where it is then?” Relief filled him.

“I do. It is in a place dark and warm, fluttering against another.” Her tongue, black and thin and long, crept out of her mouth and licked her chin.

“Can you give it back to me?”

“The currents have not brought your soul to me.”

Despair gripped his chest in a vise. “Then can you help me find it, get it back?”

She bowed her head for a moment that stretched, her high cheekbones glimmering, still wet, her tail beating a rhythm on the water. Voices rose, singing, sighing, laughing. She shook her head, her weed-tressed hair slithering.

“It is not in the sea, not in the water. It must be on land. Someone, a witch, stole it from you as you slept and breathed and lived.” She smiled, a bronze curling of lips, a drum rolling in the deep. “What do you want to do now?”

He nodded, and wiped water from his eyes. “I want to know who took it, where this witch can be found. How to get my soul back.”

The mermaid raised an ebony arm, sleek and sculpted, and with her fingertips raised his chin toward her. Flames jumped in her gaze, swallowing the reflection of the moon. “I can do that. But you must pay me back.”

He swallowed a seed of fear that stuck in his throat. He'd do anything for a life with Adelia. “Yes. What do you want?”

The mermaid's smile stretched, sharp teeth flashing. “I want the witch's soul. For my collection.”

Fair enough
. “What must I do?”

“Take seawater in your flask. After you free your soul, throw the water on the witch and I will take her soul away.”

“But how can I free my soul?”

She clucked her tongue and the water around her shivered. “As she stole your soul from you, you can steal it back. The water in your flask will show you the way. I will be guiding you; remember: I am the sea, I am the water.”

He nodded. “I shall do as you say.”

“Just remember...” The mermaid's gaze slid sideways. “Without a soul inside you, you cannot break this deal. Without a soul, mortal, soon you shall pine away and die.”

His heart hammered and he nodded again. She spoke as if he needed a soul, any soul, inside him to break the spell, to keep alive. But he wasn't a witch to steal a soul like his had been stolen.

The mermaid laughed then, and spread her arms wide. Mermaids and mermen swarmed from the deep to swim around them, blue tails and silver fins and long green hair.

Adelia
... “How much longer do I have left?”

But he got no reply and the world went dark as the moon set.

Semor found himself flung on the beach like driftwood. The fish had returned to the sea, the dead to their graves and the stones to immobility. He filled his flask with seawater and followed its tug during the days that followed.

The mermaid's words echoed in his mind. The short length of his remaining time was like a noose around his neck. He feared he wouldn't see Adelia before he died.

His feet trod familiar earth and he realized he was passing close to her village. Surely he could sidestep from his mission for a moment and see her. After all, he might not set eyes on her again.

Strangely, the tug of the water in his flask didn't resist, but instead dragged him toward the village. With a terrible suspicion souring his thoughts, he wasn't that much surprised when the pull of the water led him to Adelia's door. Not Adelia, that couldn't be. She wished him no harm. She was no witch.

Was she?

He hesitated, gathered his courage around him like battle armour and knocked.

Adelia answered the door, dressed in her favourite blue dress, her gaze lighting up when she saw him. The sight of her took his breath away, reminded him why he clung to life despite everything. When she flung herself into his arms and he inhaled her scent of jasmine, he had no need of the mermaid's magic to feel his soul in her touch or to know he'd do anything for her.

“I love you, Semor,” she whispered. “I knew you'd return.”

He'd traveled around the world to find his soul, and it was here–she was here. And suddenly, in his heart of hearts, he knew. Maybe it was the mermaid's binding that revealed to him the powers at work, but he finally realized what had happened.

Adelia hadn't stolen his soul–he'd given it to her freely. She was no witch—she was the owner of his heart.

But now what could he do?

The mermaid had bound him with a promise and a threat. He had to give her Adelia's soul, and that was unthinkable. But if he didn't get a soul back into his body, he'd die soon. Yet, without a soul inside him, the mermaid had said, he couldn't break the deal.

With a soul, he could. Even if it was another's soul.

He traced Adelia's face, the fine features, the beloved mouth, and turned all he knew over in his mind.