“You keep forgetting that she’s not a strong witch or a mermaid.”
Doris laughs bitterly, “That's your idea of my intimate life? Right? A horny undead that has wild sex with everyone, and later drown them in the water? It was your first thought, wasn’t it? You were sure I had killed the girl,” she laughs again, but, luckily, her eyes don’t turn black. “Or maybe you see me as a seducer of pretty verdant virgins, ah? What about this lovely assumption?”
“I didn't mean to say that at all. I just want you to remember that she’s mortal. She might look mature, but she’s a child to compare with us.”
“I know that,” she snaps. “You don’t have to poke my nose into conventional wisdom!”
“What if it was her first time? You might hurt her someh...” I falter. It looks like she wants to slap my face.
“I don't know who you think I am, friend, but you've made a mistake. I would never hurt her. I don’t know if it was her first time or not, but don’t doubt: I pleased her. Her moans spoke for themselves.”
“I have no doubt about that,” I wish I had not started this topic. I’m in this human mess again!
“Since when did you start defending humans? Having met a hot ginger boy? Let me remind you that your sister was killed by one of those boys.”
Now it’s my time to laugh, “I know what you are doing,” I chuckle, “You just want me to stop talking and let you grieve alone on the seabed. Don’t think that I care about the girl, on the contrary, I care about you, and I’m always on your side. If you want to forget about everything, we can disappear and leave these two alone on the island. It goes without saying that the hardships of wild life will make them fall in love with each other eventually...” what is written on mermaid’s face is priceless to look at: one emotion succeeds another at a fast pace.
Doris didn’t turn her back on me like some of my kins when my sister died. Willow’s affair with a human caused the uproar and the avalanche of infinite gossips in my clan. Some considered her blemish as my blemish too; other looked at me or talked with such pity as if saying, ‘Poor fawn, you’ll never recover from your loss and your sister’s shame.’
I smile again, putting my hand on her clenched fingers, “Don't worry, I have got it figured out. Just promise me one thing.” Doris bites her lips and nods nervously. “Promise me to help me get rid of Sylvester.”
“Just tell me when and no one will ever find him,” she grins.
***
Southern plants are giving me the way uneagerly. They are capricious because of the weather change. It’s getting darker, and not because the evening is falling on the island: the sky goes black, attaining a sinister look. The wind, a wounded beast, is howling and moaning; like dashing swifts its gusts are changing the direction.
Marina is surrounded by the forest spirits. They are everywhere: glimmering, floating, whispering, comforting her. It’s strange to see so many of them clinging to a human. The girl is silently wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She doesn’t see any of them.
I feel awkward and uninvited as if I’m peeping at their marriage bed: the place is full of Doris’s and Marina’s scents that are enlaced and entwined with each other.
“Hey,” I say in a hushed voice not to scare her off, but she shudders. I’m always forgetting that humans don’t possess good hearing. Her tearful eyes are full of hope, but it fades when she sees me. “Marina, I know you might want to be left alone for a while, but we do really need to go. The storm is coming.”
“I...I can’t,” she whispers, blushing like a pink beach rose. “Can you take me home?” she begs me childishly.
“I can’t do it know: it might be dangerous at your place. If one needs a protection against witches one needs other witches. Fight fire with fire,” I am trying to make a joke, but fail.
“Is she angry at me?”
“What?” I am lost in wonder. I felt sure that it was she who was angry or scared.
I keep silence, not having even the remotest idea what to answer. It’s not I who should talk to her now, and not the annoying forest sprites should caress her skin and comfort her. But neither Doris nor Marina turned out to be prepared for their feelings. Instead of making love on the island they backed themselves into opposite corners having been suppressed by foreign feelings, uncertainty, and interracial differences: they are literally two different species. Even I, a dryad, is anatomically closer to a weak human girl rather than to a voluptuous mermaid.
I convinced Doris to wait for us on the shore and cool off a little. Her “running wild” again is the last thing I want now. This time her teeth changed. I dare swear they didn’t undergo any transformation last time!
I sit on the ground next to her, leaning against the mossy rock, “Do you hear how the wind howls? Let’s go to the shelter...” I beg her now. I don’t want to drag her to the lighting house against her will.
“Can mermaids read human minds?” she ignores my words.
“No. Decidedly not,” it’s a strange question from the human girl.
“I didn't tell you the whole story. She kissed me, the woman from the office.”
“Kissed?” I echo.
“I didn’t want it. I swear! She made me tell every detail of my life. I don’t know how she did it! I was like in a trance, and my body didn’t listen to me, and the kiss was so painful like a wasp sting and electric shock at once.”
A death kiss! Unbelievable. Then what else could it be?
Surprise strikes me dumb. A witch’s kiss that force you balance between life and death. I have a good mind to keep it a secret not to scare Marina. She doesn’t need to know that she was dead for a while. But I have to tell Doris. Oh, my... The mermaid will kill this witch when she catches her, and we aaall will have troubles with the Coven. This human mess is dragging me deeper.
“You should not blame yourself. Witches and witchers often use hypnosis. Anyone, even more experienced creatures, swallows their hooks."
“That’s why I’m asking you about the mind reading. I thought she could do it…read my thoughts. What more can mermaids do? That woman had no trouble getting all my silly secrets, making me a docile doll. I know, I’m insane! In my head it was very logical: Doris might be angry with me: I denied her at my apartment, but the moment she left I rushed into the arms of another woman. She might think I’m just a cheap girl who sleeps around with anybody,” she sobs, “I’m fit to die of shame!”
“Hush! Hush!” with her, I feel like having a child, two stupid children. “Marina, hear to reason! No one can read your mind.”
“But all at once her conduct was so odd, indifferent,” she childishly wipes her nose with a forearm. “...and her pupils turned huge having covered the irises and the whites of the eyes.”
“I understand if you don’t want to see her now, but we really need to hurry up,” I can’t believe I’m trying to talk a human into going with me!
“I do want to see her! But she left me here, and I’m burning with shame for some of my words. She, probably, thinks that I’m some kind of harlot.”
“Not at all. She’s a mermaid, and you must be ready for these drastic changes in their behavior. They are a bag full of instincts and predator reflexes: it’s a part of their life. Mermaids were made to be appealing to... lure the victims. And you must be ready to accept this part of her,” I hope I didn't say anything to turn her off.
“There’s no way back for me,” she says resolutely; her voice is unexpectedly strong. “I’m sorry for speaking up. I feel so awkward: you know everything about her, while I see only the top of the iceberg.”
I wish this iceberg would not sink you!
“You need a normal conversation with her, but not in the middle of the storm. My powers can barely keep this spot calm and protected,” I am not lying, for I already feel tired holding back the force of nature with my aura. “Marina, you both need a plan how not to get caught by the creature committee: that’s why we need Doris’s witches,” I’m convincing her as if she’s a little fawn.
“Sylvester will start asking questions why I am gloomy or why my eyes are red. I can’t tell him, you know... The situation is so embarrassing,” she covers her face. The human doesn't understand how hard it is to keep her dry and speak at the same time. The wicked weather outside my little aura bubble is running rampant.
“I’ll distract him or shut him up,” I stand up, giving her my hand. “When Alex, a witcher, will appear, he’ll dominantly occupy all space giving your friend no chance to insert the word,” I chuckle, but inwardly I feel uneasy thinking about Vera’s brother.
Marina bites her lips the way Doris usually do it, and delicately touches my palm with her soft fingers. How do they climb the trees with such weak hands?
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