Bluehour (A Watermagic Novel) (21 page)

As I felt the warm sensation from his touch,
I was startled out of the moment. I looked over at the bathtub and
noticed something swimming in it. “What the hell is that?” I
shrieked suddenly.

Laurent laughed. “Breakfast,” he said matter
of fact. “It’s a sea snake.”

It was about seven feet long with black and
white stripes. “Oh, my!” I gasped as I looked at it from across the
bathroom. I noticed a huge bag of salt by the tub. He must carry
bags of that stuff in the trunk of his car.

“It’s poisonous.” His lips lifted into a
crooked smile. “So don’t climb in.”

“I won’t.” I frowned. “How can you eat that?
Won’t it kill you?”

“The poison is the best part.” He squeezed my
hand as he answered in his musical voice, “That’s how I can touch
you without devouring your essence entirely.”

“Poison gives you self-control?” My tone was
inquisitive.

“It satisfies mostly. The urges are more
manageable. Though I can lose it at anytime.”

I tried to seem unafraid, though my
adrenaline was rushing.

“Like the teardrop. I had to have that.” He
looked at me carefully. “Your salty fluids overwhelm me.” His ocean
eyes sparkled with concern for me. Then the way he looked down, I
sensed he was brooding.

“Come,” I said softly. “Let’s lay in the bed
and talk.”

He looked up at me. “Just a minute. I’ll meet
you there.”

I wasn’t sure what he planned to do in the
bathroom. Maybe eat the snake or add more salt to the water? I
climbed up on the bed and waited.

After a moment, Laurent came into the room
carrying a water pitcher and the bathroom sponge. He set the stuff
on the nightstand beside the bed and returned to his spot on the
other side of me. “Please forgive my immodesty,” he explained as he
pulled his t-shirt and pants off.

My eyes widened. He was only wearing swim
shorts. I guess he must wear those instead of underwear because of
his frequent ocean visits. By now I knew he wasn’t taking off his
clothes to show off or to insinuate that I should take mine off
too. But I couldn’t help but wonder why he was exposing his jaw
dropping body when he must have known what a temptation he was
posing for me.

He dipped the sponge in the water pitcher and
started wiping down his body as if it was the most normal thing in
the world.

“Are you hot?” I asked, trying as hard as I
could not to laugh.

He looked at me as he ran the sponge over his
well defined arms. “Just dried out. Usually I’m in my aquarium by
now.”

I burst out laughing. I just couldn’t help
it. His confession was too unexpected. “What do you mean?” I was
blinking my eyes trying not to let any tears come to them from the
sheer humor of it. It didn’t seem appropriate to tempt him with my
teardrops again.

“We each have our own giant aquarium at the
chateau,” he explained with a smile dancing on his lips. “It’s not
any stranger than humans sleeping in beds.”

He must have known how absurd his comment
came across to me. “Do you sleep in the aquarium?”

He swayed his head side to side. “Sort of. We
kind of rest. Certain parts of our bodies sleep while the others
remain awake. They take turns.”

That fascinated me. “Do you have gills?” I
rolled over on my side to face him with my hand supporting my head
on my pillow.

“Actually I do,” he murmured with a wry
smile. His rhythmic voice was teasing.

I waited for him to continue, but he simply
ran the sponge over his neck as he stared off.

Now my curiosity was itching. “Can I see
them?”

He looked at me and raised a dark eyebrow.
“My pleasure.” He set the sponge down and ran his fingers over the
sides of his ribcage revealing the overlapping layers of skin. “The
skin lifts here much like the flap that conceals the suctions on my
lower stomach.”

“Amazing,” I responded exuberantly. There
were three gills on each side of his body. “Do you have lungs for
breathing on land?”

“Yes, exactly—mers have both lungs and gills
and can use either depending on the circumstances. We are also cold
blooded creatures taking on the temperatures of our surroundings.
We are cold when our environment is cold and hot when our
environment is hot.”

“That’s right—fish, reptiles, and other water
creatures are often cold blooded. It never occurred to me that you
might be that too.” I considered the idea for a minute. “Why was
your skin warm when I touched it? I would have thought it would be
cold.”

He grinned. “The times that I touched you it
must have been warm out. My body was the temperature of the room or
wherever we were.”

“What do you do when it gets cold in the
winter?”

“We have all sorts of creative ways of
dealing with the cold. In our chateau, we lounge on electrically
heated rocks to warm ourselves. Modern technology offers many heat
sources. We use heating pads and other battery heated gadgets to
keep warm. But when in natural environments, like lizards, we
lounge in the sun and then hide in the shade or if we’re desperate,
we lay in mud to cool ourselves.”

I laughed at the thought of the vain,
beautiful Marine and Brigitte cooling off in mud puddles.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m just picturing Marine and Brigitte
covered in mud!”

He snickered at that. “You’re right. They
will avoid that predicament at all costs.”

“It must be a hassle trying to regulate your
body temperature on land.”

His head tilted to the side. “That’s why we
live in California. The winters are mild and it’s easier to
regulate in the heat. But we are lucky because we have a certain
protein in our blood that works like anti-freeze that allows us to
survive in very cold environments. Not all fish have that.”

“How do mers procreate?” I asked somewhat
hesitantly.

His lips lifted into a crooked grin. “Why
don’t I teach you?” he joked with a devilish glint in his eyes.

I blushed, laughing at myself. “You know what
I mean—do they lay eggs like fish? How were you conceived?” Now my
cheeks turned even redder.

“That is actually a good question. I was
conceived the same way you were. I was born in France in the 1700s
to human parents.”

My chin jutted back. “How can a mer be
conceived by human beings?”

He seemed amused with my question. “I was
born human.”

My eyes widened as goose bumps rose on my
arms. “How?”

“I’m a convert.”

“What?” I almost shouted out my surprise. I
just assumed he was born a merman and that he had always been this
way.

Apparently he was enjoying my shock because
he just watched me joyfully for way too long before answering.
Finally, he proceeded to tell me his story. “I’m from Paris. When I
was seventeen, I took a trip on a schooner to French Indo-China
where I visited my uncle who had a large rubber plantation. From
there I traveled to the Philippines and continued on to San
Francisco. After, when we were in route to Panama, we heard the
most beautiful singing. We were entirely entranced. The captain
lost control of the wheel and in turn crashed into a reef. The ship
sank like a stone.”

I was shocked by what I was hearing. It made
me think of my father’s shipwreck. “How tragic. That must have been
terrifying.”

“It was horrendous. That is why I don’t want
to do the same to others even though it is in my nature.” He looked
at me for a long minute, but I could tell he wasn’t really seeing
me—his mind was on his tragedy. “The mers caused the shipwreck with
their sonar manipulations and songs. They ate most of the
passengers, but six of us survived.”

“How?”

“The mers said they spared our lives because
they considered us to be good looking.” He chuckled at that. “As
I’ve explained before, mers are very into beauty. They will often
spare the lives of attractive people and turn them into their own
kind.”

“How do they convert human beings into
mers?”

He looked at me softly for a moment. “With a
kiss.”

I gulped and then my heart sank. So much for
ever kissing Laurent unless I wanted to become like him. A terrible
ache ran through my body.

I think he saw the despair in my expression.
“A mer can kiss a human without converting the person, but if the
kiss lasts too long, the excruciatingly painful process takes
place.”

A touch of horror burned in my eyes. “Why is
the conversion painful?”

“The body changes rapidly. Gills and suctions
form. The skin grows thicker. Muscles develop and strengthen. The
hair grows. Physical features enhance, characteristic of the mer’s
extreme beauty…”

I couldn’t help but interrupt, “Why do
converts become more attractive during the process?”

“The purpose is to look appealing to humans
so that they can lure them away and eat their flesh as vital
sustenance.”

“Oh.” I nodded, brushing a fallen strand of
my hair out of my face with my fingers. “What else changes in the
convert during the process?”

“Their brains grow and develop, increasing
intelligence and higher intelligences that give mers powers over
humans and environment.”

“What kinds of powers do mers have?” My
curiosity was intense.

“Omni-linguism, mind control, sound
manipulation, plant manipulation, teleportation, increased speed in
water, super strength after eating humans, and levitation are some
powers that come to mind.” He smiled mischievously.

“Incredible.” I threw myself onto my back and
pondered. “What is omni-linguism?”

“Mers have the ability to understand any form
of language. We are natural polyglots.”

“Wow! So amazing!” I looked at Laurent with
excitement in my eyes. “I want to be a mer!”

He shook his head. “No you don’t—believe me.
Imagine craving human flesh. It’s a horrible life to want to eat
what you once were.”

“But you don’t have to eat humans,” I
insisted. “You get along fine eating sea creatures. I heard snakes
taste like chicken.”

He burst out laughing, which surprised me.
“If you say so.” His eyes narrowed which gave me the feeling he was
having predatory thoughts, maybe imagining overtaking venomous sea
creatures.

“You said mers can swim at super speeds.”

He nodded.

“So, I was right that you saved me when I was
being pulled out to see. Right?” I knew it was him; I just wanted
him to admit it.

He stretched his arms up toward the ceiling
with a facetious look in his eyes and placed his hands behind his
head where he leaned back confidently. “I’m not saying.”

“Ah, come on.” I picked up a pillow and
tossed it at him.

“Nope,” he said stubbornly.

“You’re going to tell me.” I swatted him with
the pillow.

“Stop,” he laughed, trying to block me as my
blows increased. He grabbed the pillow from my hands.

“Not until you admit it.” Playfully, I threw
my body on him now. My insides tingled with desire.

His nostrils flared. “All right, all right.”
He moved off the bed to a standing position. His jaw was clenched.
“It was me.”

“Thank you very much,” I said sarcastically,
trying to hide my overwhelming desire to touch my lips to his, as I
pulled the pillow out of his arms and tossed it to my side of the
bed. I so wanted him to kiss me just long enough before turning me.
If it was quick, there would be no danger. When my body was on top
of his for that brief moment, it was heavenly. It was all I
wanted—to be with him, connected.

I scooted back to my side of the bed and he
sat back down in his spot. We didn’t talk for awhile, but just sat
there like that. The French windows creaked in the wind and a nice
sea breeze was blowing in.

As we sat there in silence I began thinking
back to our school trip to Catalina Island. I remembered reading
about the mers there and how accurately the museum depictions
described them in comparison to Laurent’s descriptions. “At the
museum on Catalina Island, I saw a picture from the 1700s of a
young woman and man that reminded me of Marine and Pascal…”

Before I could finish, Laurent interrupted
excitedly, “You noticed that?” His eyes gleamed in the bedroom
light. “They looked different than they do now—didn’t they?”

My eyes widened. “It was them?”

“Yes.” He smiled wryly. “Our ship wrecked
near Catalina Island and the museum kept record of it. Most people
think mers are simply legend, but they hold actual artifacts from
the tragedy.”

I was amazed. “Then, were the other exchange
students on the same ship as you?”

He nodded. “Yes, they were.” His eyes glazed
over like he was thinking back in time. “Marine and Pascal were
just married and were traveling for their honeymoon, but Brigitte,
Marcel, Josette, Sabine and I didn’t know each other at the time of
the wreck.”

“Sabine was on the ship too?”

“Yes.” He paused for a moment. “After the
conversions, our attackers grouped us together as a school and
paired all of us up with each other, assigning mates.”

“You mean like arranged marriages?” I asked,
my voice lifting in surprise.

“Something like that. There was a courtship
period that was designed to lead to marriage. Brigitte bonded with
Marcel during the process and soon thereafter they married. Marine
and Pascal were already mates from before the conversion, so they
underwent the mer ceremony immediately. And I was matched with
Sabine.”

“Did you not like her?”

“I don’t think I could have liked anyone at
that time. I was wildly bitter at my fate. In my rage, I became
consumed with violence. My appetite was ravenous. Sabine was
frustrated with my lack of interest in her and in turn became
obsessed.

“As my killing sprees waned, my school began
meeting secretively. We decided to distance ourselves from the
ancient mers. We became land dwellers who refused to eat human
flesh. Sabine grew more and more angry that I kept putting off
marriage. In turn, she aligned with another school of converts from
another shipwreck, but she vowed to kill any female who took a
romantic interest in me for all eternity.”