Mer Made Read online

  Table of Contents

  Book Description

  Title Page

  Free Fiction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  About the Author

  If You Liked…

  Copyright Page

  Book Description

  Erika is transgender. She's known since she was young; being a woman just fit better. She loved to wear her mother's dresses and tight corsets, but that was before the disease took her mother away. Erika's father doesn't see a daughter, he sees a confused son that needs a new start in a new city across the ocean. Erika has no place to go, so with the last of her mother's dresses she packs for months on a sailing ship.

  Halfway across the ocean, Erika's life is forever altered. She sneaks on deck in her mother's dress in the dead of night and a superstitious deckhand throws her overboard, dress and all. But drowning at sea isn't how Erika plans to die. She cuts a deal with a sea witch for more than her life--for the first time, she is transformed into the woman she's always known was inside. Her dress becomes a mermaid tail and all it took was her voice.

  She should have known living her authentic life wouldn't be so easy, though. The witch wants more than Erika's voice, she's on the hunt for the undersea throne, the seat of power. Ariel, the last daughter of the king must marry in three days or the first place Erika has ever called home will be destroyed. The magic of true love is the only thing that can save them now.

  Free Fiction

  Get the free short story #PixiPocolypse:

  https://BookHip.com/JZJDGVK

  Chapter One

  Erika caught her footing on the bare wood of the cabin as the Legacy rocked her way across the Atlantic. The wood was worn smooth by the boots and feet of a hundred sailors before her. She leaned on the shelves built into the wall, their small spaces further confined by elastic lines criss-crossed at the front to keep bottles, boxes, and baubles safely stowed while underway. The whole cabin managed to fit inside a mere five feet by seven, made smaller by the shelves and drawers lining the walls for storage. It smelled like salt, because everything on a ship smelled like salt, but this cabin also held the warm scent of wood oil, the smoky air of lantern oil, and it muffled the whistle of the wind and the flap of the canvas sails. It would have been charming in any other circumstance.

  But Erika was only here because her mother had died two months ago. Tuberculosis, the doctor said. Nothing he could do. And Erika watched the only person she ever really trusted sink into herself and disappear. The only person who understood Erika wasn't Erik despite what the doctors called her at birth.

  And now she was stuck on this boat, sailing to the new world with a father in little but name, an act meant to sever her from the world she'd made for herself and force her back into a shell she couldn't wear. Like a beetle shedding a carapace too small, she'd grown beyond the expectations for Erik and there was no going back.

  Her father would have to adapt.

  The lantern behind her creaked as the boat tipped back the other way, throwing Erika's shadow across the shelves and lighting up her single battered travel chest. The only thing of her mother's she'd been allowed to keep. It stood up to her knees, the top rounded and banded in shining brass. The oversized lock only had one key, which Erika wore around her neck on a chain thin enough to hide under clothes.

  The contents of a chest like this hadn't yet come under her father's scrutiny and Erika wanted to keep it that way, because the chest wasn't the only thing of her mother's she'd kept.

  With one hip braced on the shelves against the rocking of the ship, Erika fished the key out of her undershirt and unlocked her vault of treasures. On top was a layer of men's clothes: trousers and button shirts fit for an heir of the house. Better than rough-hewn, but still stiff and abrasive with the expectations of her father. The real treasure lay buried beneath, like Erika herself hid away during the day. It wasn't safe to be a woman among these men, not when her father was her biggest enemy.

  But at dusk, when the wind had picked up, speckling her skin with salt and pushing the Legacy to a swift speed, Erika could struggle out of the cocoon she'd spun and let her wings grow in the light of the moon. A secret moth ready to glitter like a star. Unknowable but to those who prayed in the night for their own truth.

  Her lips still tasted like salt, abraded by the sun and the wind after weeks on the water. That same scratch of salt itched her skin as she stripped out of a jacket and trousers meant for a man and reached for her wings.

  The dress she'd saved from her mother's closet wasn't the most glamorous—it didn't have four layers of tulle skirts or a crest of diamonds across the bust. Erika had to select something she could hide in the trunk and it laced up the front so she could tie the ribbons herself. But the satin gleamed in the lantern light, throwing jewel-tone green and pristine white reflections into Erika's eyes. A water lily bathed in the moonlight.

  She adjusted the corset around her waist, throwing the ribbon ties out before her. The act of lacing was as much a ritual as the shedding of trousers. These ties bound to her all the grace of a woman and freed her to act accordingly. Ribbon in, ribbon out, crossed in front and then behind. The ties started at the top and bottom, meeting in the middle where Erika could cinch out the slack. Steel boning hugged her ribs, squeezing her waist in as if she could shift the mass of her body to her chest, forcing her to breathe high in her lungs instead of low in her belly. The steel kept her together when she couldn't hold herself, an unflinching reminder of who she was.

  White satin covered the bodice, dotted with tiny pearls, each one hand stitched. White fell down into the skirts, wrapped in folded green like leaves surrounding a lily. A bloom that opened for the light of the moon and glowed only in secret darkness. Erika kicked the edge of the skirts with her bare toes and spun once. The dress twisted, then flared around her knees, gleaming in the lamp light. A jewel wrapped from top to bottom.

  Erika found a small mirror in her trunk and angled it overhead to see her whole self. Her dark skin shined like the satin of her dress, but the lantern's light was yellow and it took all the life out of her. How unsatisfying.

  Erika eyed the door of her cabin.

  It was well past dusk now, and only three men crewed the Legacy overnight, a rotating watch every four hours. If she was careful, she could sneak on deck and be back with no one the wiser. Her door opened to the top deck…

  Erika slipped the mirror into the strap of her bodice and eased the cabin door open. Salt spray tickled her face and the night breeze made her shiver, but the deck glowed with silver moonlight and Erika found herself transfixed. Yes. The cold blue glow of the moon was exactly what she needed.

  She flicked her attention around the deck even as she inched herself out of the doorway, drawn to the moonlight despite the danger lurking in the dark. The sailors wouldn't appreciate the governor's son dancing around in a woman's dress. And she'd heard them discussing their superstitions in the week's she'd been here. Superstitions were like luck, intangible and fleeting. But they held power over men and they would act on them. Erika couldn't afford to be caught.

  The doorway of her cabin was bordered on both sides by wide stairs leading up to the wheel, a platform that overlooked the rest of the ship. But she rarely saw anyone at the wheel lately. Ever since they'd cleared England's bay, the captain had set the course and tied the auto-steer—some device that flopped back and forth to correct their heading. It was a crude measure, totally useless in the tight channels of the bay, but out in the ocean expanse, it kept them on course
and allowed the captain to handle other tasks in the meantime.

  Erika hoped it meant no one stood at the helm tonight.

  Forward of her door, the top deck of the ship stretched, yawning into the dark distance like a boardwalk that never ended. The main mast stood just in front of her, illuminated by a single lantern at head height and looming overhead, only its edge caught by the moonlight at the top. Canvas sail creaked under the wind and lines that ran down their length slapped softly, the sound almost lost under the steady rush of the waves.

  A ship wasn't silent, but for its size, Erika was surprised at how little sound it made, floating in the big blue sea. A thing this large should make more noise, but it was the water and the wind that drove the pace, both of the boat and now of her heart.

  There were three men on watch overnight. She spotted one high in the rigging of the main mast, his legs dangling, and his head drooped like he was asleep or getting there quickly. Erika didn't think she was afraid of heights, but she wouldn't trust falling asleep without being securely tied! Sailors were another breed altogether.

  A man sneezed into the dark. Erika squinted through the tempting moonlight and found a sailor at the front of the ship, facing out to sea. He was lit from behind by a dim lantern and picked his fingernails with a knife. He wore trousers, and a belt loaded with pouches, but no shirt, and the lantern light on his skin made it look like leather. Perhaps after years in the sun it was more like leather now.

  Erika inched further out of her doorway, catching her skirts in one hand so she could close the door silently. There should be one more man on duty tonight, but she couldn't find him. Maybe he was belowdecks. Or he ditched his shift. Erika wasn't familiar with the culture of sailors, but such a limited living space made her think men who ditched their work didn't last long.

  Under the salt and spray, the ship smelled like pitch—a tar and cotton packing shoved into the gaps of the wood to seal out the ocean water. It was tangy and dark and settled on the back of her tongue like molasses that had turned months ago. She scrunched her nose and almost turned back to the warm wood oil scent of her cabin. There were no luxuries out here.

  But the moment Erika reached her hand out and saw the silvery moonlight fall across her dark skin, she gasped with delight. She forgot all about the sour pitch taste and the rough scour of the salt air. Her skin glowed in the moonlight, its purple undertones shining like a polished jewel. There was no comparison to the lantern light of her cabin.

  Erika pulled the small mirror out from the strap of her bodice that kept it secure against her breast and held it up as she stepped into the moonlight. Silver draped across her shoulders and glittered in the pearls sewn into her bodice. Erika spun, sending the light dancing through the satin and her dark skin. She caught her own eyes in the mirror and grinned at the light in them. There was no other place for her but here in the deep moonlight, fluttering like the luna moth.

  She couldn't catch her breath. The dress and the light and her joy were wrapped so tight that tears squeezed at the corners of her eyes. Her breath caught in pants and she couldn't blame it on the tight lacing. If only her mother could see her now.

  Erika hugged the mirror to her chest and closed her eyes. The tears fell, but they were happy tears, and Erika continued to rock her skirts as she smiled. There was no better feeling than expressing her true self. A euphoria of rising emotion, both blissful and driven.

  And it shattered when work-rough hands, muscle-bound arms, and the sour breath of beer wrapped around her from behind. Erika shrieked as she was lifted bodily off the deck. Her mirror dropped and she heard it shatter, then crunch as the grunting, hulking man who held her stomped toward the rail.

  His breath, slimy and hot, licked past her ear and she heard him growl through grit teeth, "Bad luck t'ave a woman aboard."

  The rail of the ship loomed closer and despite how the deck rocked, the arms around Erika tightened and the sailor's march never wavered. Beyond the rail there was only darkness. Slapping, churning, windy darkness. Even the moonlight failed to illuminate the water, leaving its surface as inky black as the fear growing in Erika's heart.

  She struggled. She kicked and screamed and scratched. Her stomach dropped like the ship. The arms around her waist would not keep her from vomiting. Silky dress tangled around her legs, and the boning in her bodice dug into her ribs.

  Then she was falling. Her knees hit the rail and the sailors broad chest dumped her over the side. Her hands smacked the heaving wood side of the ship as she tumbled head over feet, whipping past the crew deck, and plunging into the icy water.

  Black water folded over her head. She clawed at it with nothing to grab. Her legs tangled in the dress, she watched the weaving dot of silvery moonlight fall into the distance. Cold seized her lungs. The pressure squeezed from every angle, like a bodice tied too tightly. The ship was only a grim shadow, and she lost even that in a blink of her eye.

  Erica felt the last bubbles of air leave her nose and she knew she was dead.

  Chapter Two

  Erika's lungs spasmed, full of water, desperate for air. Drowned women always seemed at peace, their eyes closed, their skin pale. Erika would not go peacefully. Her body seized, trying to expel the water and breathe. She clawed at her throat, at her chest, and would have screamed but for the water.

  She was dumped unexpectedly into a bubble. She vomited water, coughing so hard she was sure her lungs would come up. Her chest burned, her skin was cold, and she was surely dead.

  Even the dim, purple light that bobbed toward her seemed unreal. Was this how a person met God?

  But God didn't have tentacles. Six, seven, eight of them snaked toward her through the water. They wrapped around her bubble and drew forward the body of a woman with wild black hair, glowing purple eyes, and pale skin. Her lips were blood red, and when she smiled Erika saw rows of shark teeth, jagged and ready to bite. A forked tongue waited behind them. Erika shivered.

  Erika forced herself to breathe through the burn in her lungs and the uncontrollable heave of her body. She was cold. The saltwater stung her eyes. She lay in a crumple at the bottom of the bubble, her feet wound in the dress. She was breathing somehow, here at the bottom of the ocean, because this witch had found her. What did she want? Adrenaline made Erika hot and brought a tremble to her fingers, but she stared fear in the face and pushed her clinging hair back.

  The witch's tentacles moved across the surface of the bubble, undulating and sinister. The purple light Erika had seen split into two and also circled her bubble, casting strange shadows and illuminating stranger things. The witch had a head, two arms, and a torso like a human, but below the waist she was a mass of dark, wiggling snakes. Two giant clam shells covered her breasts, barely preserving her luscious modesty. The water waved through her hair, pushing it first back then forward, hiding the glimmering eyes that Erika challenged with her own wavering stare.

  If this was not God, it was surely a devil, and Erika had fought enough human devils. She knew how to keep her head high and hide the hurt that they caused. No stranger of the deep could do any worse. That's what she told herself as her heart quaked.

  The circling purple lights resolved themselves into eels. They were as long as both arms, large toothy jaws up front and thin transparent tails in the back. Their black eyes rolled in their heads. One of them snaked toward her bubble and a shock of purple electricity jumped between them, crackling around Erika's bubble like it was trying to pop it. Erika jumped. And the witch laughed at her wide eyes.

  Then the witch spoke. Her voice grated like rocks or shells against each other, deep and perhaps unused for a long time. Her teeth clicked together, and the water pushed through her hair like a bed of snakes. "How curious that a human would fight so hard so far from the surface." The witch's eyes narrowed and she smiled even wider, splitting her face in two for all the teeth on display. "Shall I send you back from where you came?"

  Erika couldn't seem to find her voice. The witch turned
her bubble with her wiggling tentacles, forcing Erika to twist and turn to keep her in sight. The purple light that pulsed from the eels made her dizzy. Her lungs still burned. The cold dress clung to her skin and the salt itched.

  "Perhaps you wish to live here, at the bottom of the sea, instead," the witch hissed between her gnashing teeth.

  The bubble jerked to a stop and one eel dashed toward its surface, it's purple lightning, crackling and sharp. It turned and slapped the bubble with its tail. Lightning scattered there, then Erika saw a vision. An impossible, magical vision. Men and women with fish tails swimming between coral buildings and glowing lamps, an entire city of shells at the bottom of the sea.

  And hope rose in Erika's chest that she'd never dared to kindle before. "You can make me a mermaid?" she asked hoarsely, before her hope could soar away, out of control.

  "Of course," the witch purred, her little black eyes glinting.

  "Can… can you make me a woman?" Erika pressed her hands to the bubble and leaned up on her knees, desperate to know if it was possible, if she could shed this incorrect body forever. Her chest fluttered with hope, a deep and profound desire she couldn't help but reach for. There was nothing left for her at the surface but struggle and pain. If she could be herself here…

  "It's a simple spell, my dear," the witch sighed, putting a delicate hand to her chest. Erika spotted pointed claws at the ends of her fingers, but she wouldn't let them deter her. She had a chance for an authentic life.

  "Do it," Erika said. "Make me a mer-woman."

  "Well…" said the witch, her eyes laughing at Erika. "There's a matter of payment."

  "Payment?" Erika slid her eyes around the bubble, then down her own wet body. She had nothing to offer. "You mean gold? There's plenty of gold on that ship sailing overhead."

  The witch laughed, but the sound was grating and coarse, like the grinding of rocks deep in the earth, like nothing Erika had ever heard before. "You humans are so fond of your gold. You'll do anything for it. No, not gold. I require something of value."