Siren's Secret

The sight of a woman with long blond hair caught his attention. She stood behind a chair, wielding a pair of shears with grace and authority. Her hair was unusual, a thick honey-gold confection with streaks of the palest pink and lavender. On her, the highlights looked natural, not like on the phony Goth teenagers you saw in Mobile these days with bold colors against black hair.

His mermaid that night had long hair, but impossible to make out the color other than it was light. It had hung down the front of her torso like a second skin.

What if...what if this was her? Maybe she had the ability to be on land and sea. It wasn’t such a stretch to think the thing had some kind of mutation abilities. He recalled those eyes of swirling colors. Melkie peered intently at the woman’s reflection in the mirrored walls. The eyes were a perfectly human shade of blue, not that freaky cat-eyed glow he’d seen.

He would seek out Tia Henrietta. The hoodoo witch down in the boondocks might know something. He’d never placed any faith in the old woman’s tales but his mother and sisters and all their buddies swore by her occult powers.

If anybody knew something about mermaids or sea creatures, it would be her.

* * *

Shelly leaned back in the beautician’s chair and let Lily massage her head and neck as she washed her hair. It was after hours at the shop, but when Lily had heard about her date, she wanted Shelly to come on in and get gorgeous.

“Your neck muscles are tight,” Lily said. “Relax.”

Lily’s soothing voice failed its usual magic. As did the varying shades of coral, rose and ivory on the walls that a local artist had painted to their specification. The effect of the pearly tones usually soothed Shelly—it was like being enveloped in the shelter of a giant conch shell.

Shelly opened her eyes and met Lily’s in the mirror. “How can I relax?” The half-moon dark circles under her eyes and the faint lines of worry on her brow were new. “I’m scared to death that psycho will find one of us.”

“You’re here with us now.” Lily pressed her strong fingers on a trigger point at the base of Shelly’s skull. “Nothing’s happened.”

Jet looked up from the desk. “Good thing you have a date tomorrow night. Nothing like a man for distraction. Just don’t let it get serious.” Her fingers resumed their clicking on the adding machine. Thank goodness Jet actually enjoyed working with numbers, since Shelly and Lily avoided it as much as possible. At the shop Lily was in her element and had earned a reputation for her talents. Jet handled the business end of things and filled in as shampoo girl when needed.

Shelly groaned. “I haven’t been on a real date in two years. I’m a nervous mess.”

Lily laughed. “Just have fun. A man’s attention will get rid of a funk every time.”

The adding machine’s clicking stopped. “Attention, hell,” Jet said. “We’re talking sex.”

“You’re almost thirty years old, in your sexual prime,” Lily continued. “I couldn’t go without it more than a couple of weeks myself. And it’s been months since I’ve been with a merman.” A dreamy look clouded her eyes. “Nothing like sex with a real merman.”

Shelly eyed Lily curiously. As a full-blooded siren, her cousin responded instinctually to the call of an annual spawning ritual. Mermen and mermaids gathered at a remote South Pacific island for a week of orgies. Those inclined to produce a litter of merchildren built undersea nests in beds of coral for fertilizing and hatching their newborn.

Shelly had no desire to attend a reproduction ritual. Not that she would be allowed—that right was reserved only for the full-blooded. Raised as a landlubber in a human family, the whole thing sounded bizarre and unappealing. Regular sex, right here in the bayou, would be exciting enough. She shut her eyes, imagining Tillman’s naked body against hers. It had been so long since she’d desired a man.

“Little cuz is blushing,” Jet said wryly.

Lily rinsed Shelly’s hair. “No teasing,” she scolded. Lily placed a warmed towel over Shelly’s head and rubbed. “Any special style requests?”

“I leave it all in your hands. Even if I don’t like it, it will grow out in no time.”

“Our hair is a pain in the fins,” Jet said, her eyes still on the numbers. “Easiest thing to do is just keep it hacked off like mine.”

Lily and Shelly shared a secret smile. Their mermaid hair grew at a rate of nearly an inch a week and their nails grew so fast weekly manicures were a must. “I like the long layers you have in it now,” Shelly said. “Just give it a good trim and blow-dry it.”

Shelly relaxed as the warmth and noise of the blow-dryer eased her tension. Everything was going to be okay. They had done what they could to help the police identify the killer by putting the body on land. Well, almost everything. She still had the knife.

Her mind drifted to the date. She’d had her eye on Tillman for quite a while. But she didn’t think he even noticed her. He was always so remote and professional the few times he’d picked up Eddie. Shelly imagined those gray eyes darkening with desire for her and squirmed.

Stop it. You’re way past the age to be so nervous about a date. It’s just...sex and companionship. That’s all she could hope for since that was all she could offer. No man wanted to love a freak; it could only end in disaster. Her parents’ stormy marriage was proof of that. All the tears, the shouting, the fundamental differences that stifled her mother’s mermaid desire to be at sea and frustrated her human father, who resented that his love wasn’t enough to make her happy. The answer lay in a long-term affair of mutual affection. Sure, she risked him finding out her secret. But she was tired of being alone. She knew her cousins were there for her, but it wasn’t the same. It could never be the same. She was part human...they weren’t.

Jet interrupted her thoughts. “Tell us about this guy. How did you meet him?”

“He’s the older brother of Eddie, one of my clients at the Y.”

Jet crossed her arms over her chest. “Could be awkward if you break up and you have to keep running into him.”

“Always the pessimist,” Lily murmured. “Just think of having a good time for as long as it lasts.” A smile tugged her lips. “In fact, pass him on to me when you’re done with him. I cut Gary loose a couple days ago.”

Jet yawned and headed to the break room. “I need coffee.”

“You’ve only been seeing Gary a month and you’re already bored?” She shouldn’t be surprised; Lily went through men like crazy. A wonder there were still men left in town she hadn’t already had an affair with and then dumped. An unexpected burst of jealousy reared its head. “Is a man named Tillman one of your exes?”

Lily patted the top of Shelly’s head. “I prefer the bad boys, not Boy Scouts who take care of their little brothers.”

Jet returned, coffee cup refilled. Lily turned to her sister. “Learn from Shelly. Get yourself back out there and find you a man.”

“Don’t need ’em,” Jet said, settling back down to the books. “There’s always a one-night stand if I’m in the mood for sex.”

Shelly and Lily eyed each other with a knowing look. Jet had never gotten over Perry and his betrayal. Almost three years had passed since he’d been put in some South American prison for stealing sea treasure and Jet still ached. She’d never admit it, but Shelly suspected her cousin’s life was on hold until Perry showed up again. If he did.

But who was she to judge her cousins? She’d made a mess of her own past love life. Never again would she tell a man her secret and be called a freak. That college experience still rankled. She’d passed off her confession as a drunken fantasy but Steve had dumped her shortly afterward.

Her cousins—and their attitude toward men—was what it was, just as she was a product of her parents’ mixed genetics.

* * *

Melkie drove the endless stretch of sandy back roads that seemed to be never-ending paths to nowhere. Finally he rounded a corner and found Tia Henrietta’s shack.

A scraggly orange tabby came out from behind a bush, arching his back at Rebel. The dog barked and jumped out the truck window before Melkie could stop him.

A screen door banged open. “Call off yer dawg.”

The old woman glared at him with eyes dark as midnight. Under the purple turban her olive skin and faintly almond eyes made her something of an enigma. Melkie wasn’t sure if she was distantly related to the many Vietnamese who worked in the fishing industry, Creole or black, or perhaps a mixture of several races.

He whistled and Rebel slunk to his side, tail tucked between his legs. Melkie patted his head in reassurance.

Tia Henrietta approached. “What you doing way out here?”

“You’re the psychic. You tell me.”

She turned and walked back to the house, surprisingly spry for her age. “You always were a smart-alecky little ’un. C’mon, then.”

They walked to the porch, Melkie motioning Rebel to stay before he followed the old woman inside. For all the unkempt appearance outside, the inside was neat, if shabby.

The place hadn’t changed in the past two decades. Dozens of Jesus and saint candles glowed atop several mini altars of seashells, crystals and peacock feathers. Small pieces of folded-up paper were tucked among the altars. People seeking divine help for their problems. What bullshit.

The same mysterious, earthy scent of smoked herbs pervaded the sitting room.