Of Priests and Mermaids (Volume 1)

By J.C. Nova

A collection of fascinating short stories from JC Nova that you will not forget in a hurry.
A young priest with hidden skills and a double life is forced to face what he has run away from for so long. Nightmare becomes reality when a single girl stumbles on a creature that wants all of her. A member of an elite defense squad is tasked with delivering a package, but it turns out things are not what they appear to be. A man falls in love with a mermaid who wants more than just love. And many more other tales.
Step into a world of intrigue that has been carefully curated by a master storyteller, and prepare to be engulfed by the unpredictable!

"Mischevious!" "Surprised ... a very good writer." "Refreshing. Different. Dark." "A curious read ... thoroughly enjoyable and unpredictable stories!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Nova
• Release date: Feb 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463338025

J.C. Nova

J.C. Nova is a passionate, multi-talented speaker and writer with regular posts on various platforms, many articles to his credit and author of KISSING SNAKES and OUR FAVOURITE DEMON. Besides writing, he serves as a Business Consultant, performs Positive Rock Music under the stage name XTsamurai, and spends time mentoring and being a counsellor to young men. He lives with his wife and kids in Lagos, Nigeria, and is an avid lover of tea and long walks.

Book preview

…he squatted, took one final look around to ensure he was alone, before slapping the calm surface of the water hard. Once. Twice. Thrice.

* * *

Simeon threw the rock and waited, watching the smooth pebble skip over the water’s surface. Under the light of the full moon, the ripples, triggered by rock touching water, had a mesmerizing dream-like quality. The silence was almost weird; there were no sounds of crickets from the bushes that surrounded the river, even at this time of night. Perhaps, they were aware that a strange event which had been ongoing for years was about to play out again and they had decided to watch in discreet silence from their homes in rocks and logs around the river. Once more, Simeon made another rock skip over the water, leaned for a moment against one of the tall trees that dotted the river’s edge, took a look around to ensure no one was watching, and then slowly began to walk down to the river.

The day had been tough, like every other day of his life. Farming had its good days, but most of the time, especially in the village, it was tough for a lowly farmhand like he was. It was going to sleep at midnight and getting up well before dawn, daily. Then, there were the animals to feed, pens to wash, wood blocks to chop, fields to weed… It went on and on. Many thought he was lucky to be employed by four of the ten nobles in the village, working in their massive fields with hopes that he would move from farmhand to chief farmer. And then what? Lord of the manor? Deep down, Simeon was tired of the drudgery of his life. He wanted more, but the question was, what is more?

He had no clue.

He had never known his parents, and his earliest memories were of the dark, depressing orphanage he had escaped. After that had been life as a handyman, and then as a farmhand, each course marked by glum monotony, and a growing lack of fulfillment.

That was until she had come into his life.

He was at the dark river’s edge now, expectation rising with every step. It had been a moonlit night and he had thrown the stones as always. The water was warm, strangely so, now caressing his bare feet and dancing around his ankles as he stood in the water. Then he squatted, took one final look around to ensure he was alone, before slapping the calm surface of the water hard. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then he paused, waiting and looking out into the distance.

First, there was nothing. Just the rushing of the river, slow currents that moved along lazily to God-knows-where. Then, in the grey misty distance, what appeared to be the top of a cap quietly broke surface and began to move towards him rapidly. He watched, his eyes beginning to gleam with expectation, and then the form became a face, a hauntingly beautiful face over wet shoulders, that were over well-formed bossoms that perfectly accentuated the sashay of lithe perfect hips.

She was beautiful – as always.

A smile danced around the corners of her mouth as she walked right out of the water. It was the transformation from the waist that always fascinated him, somewhat drowning him in a mental cocktail of horror, delight, and awe. Her waist to her feet was covered with glistening fish scales that were grey in the moonlight. He watched in wonder as the fins around her ankles slowly pushed their way into her skin as her lower body took on a more human form. The scales blended with skin, and before he could observe further, she was in his arms, lips on his, and at that moment, as always, everything else faded.

She was his, he was hers, and in the end, nothing else really mattered...

Not long after, they lay on their backs next to each other, arm in arm, gazing at the moon. There were still no sounds from crickets or nature. All was still.

Finally she broke the silence.

"I am tired of seeing you only once a month."

Simeon sighed softly, beginning to rub her arms before replying in a soft voice.

We see each other only once a month because I can only reach you when the moon is full.

Because you do not want to be with me, Simeon!

But I do, my love…

Then come with me, my love. Her voice was insistent. Come with me.

I cannot, my love. Not now.

There was silence, and then she chuckled suddenly. He turned to look at her, a slightly quizzical look in his eyes.

"Simeon, you do know that I am a queen, and I am not used to not having my way." She turned to him, leaning on an elbow, and gazing into his eyes with those clear blue eyes that made his world swim. And then, when she spoke, her words took his breath away.

Simeon, she sighed softly. Don’t you want to see my world? There was another pause. Don’t you want to meet your sons?

At the moment she spoke, he thought he had heard a soft rustling sound in the bushes around them, but his mind was more preoccupied with what she was saying. His sons? He had sons that were not… The thought was too much to comprehend. Not fully human?

As the thought hit him, the sounds around him became unmistakably louder, the clear rustling of feet, and Simeon jerked around in time to see four young men walk out from the bushes that surrounded them. They walked slowly towards where he lay, a look of recognition on their faces as though they had always known him. In the gloom of the night, he could just make out scales and fins melding into skin. Simeon jumped to his feet, panic gripping him now.

Ama… he started, backing away, but the words were not coming out right from his quivering lips. Amatheia, who are these? What is going on? Why…

These are your sons, my love… She was on her feet now, and she kissed him on the lips, turned sharply and began to walk towards the water’s edge. And we have come to take you home. Her last words were said with a sense of finality he had never heard before. His head began to swim and he thought he was going to faint, then the dizziness gave way to panic - and panic gave him wings.

He fled – he didn’t have to look behind him to know they were coming after him. And by God, they were quick!

Simeon heard them running behind him, then they were beside him in a flash, and before he could scream, strong hands seized him.

PLEASE! Simeon screamed, but the young men were deaf to his cries. They held him up like undertakers, two on both sides, with grips like vices, his struggling form held up in the air like a bothersome casket, and they began the walk to the water’s edge.

PLEEEEASE!!! Simeon screamed again, with enough strength to raise the dead. Somewhere in his mind, he prayed someone would hear him and come running. Hoped that someone would come on time to save him. Hoped that the fear of being seen by human eyes would make these mermen panic, maybe drop him. None of that played out. Not tonight. Amatheia simply gave a nod and began to walk down into the river, water rising from ankle to knee to chest, with the young men, his sons, following in her steps. The look on her face was firm, but he could not deny the softness in her eyes when her gaze fell on him. He was right above the water now and he struggled in vain against his captors.

PLEEEEEEE……, but that was as far as he got before the group was totally submerged by the slow currents of the river.

And the only evidence of what had transpired under the silent moon was air bubbles.

And Simeon’s shoes.

canine

Not a word was spoken as the General walked with me. The dog walked along, that stoic expression on its face ...

* * *

The instruction had been simple enough; wait for the package to arrive, drive to the take-off point, and meet with the contact for additional briefing on what to do with the package. Orders were orders and that was why I was now standing under the pouring rain, chilled to my bones, reminiscent of days in training as the SEAL team member that I had become. The large trench coat that kept away the worst part of the cold covered the MP5K, my trusted companion, as well as the Glock and my karambit. Despite the downpour and light fog, my eyes were alert as I waited for the contact to arrive. The keywords for the exchange were simple: General Canine.

I was standing near the beginning of Flint Street in a rather quiet part of town. There was little activity because the area was largely residential, and at this time of the morning, 10am, I imagined that a lot of the occupants of the homes in this middle-class part of town would have left for work. At that time of day, they would probably be sitting down in an office, staring at a screen, ploughing through jobs they probably hated, waiting for 5pm or whatever closing time they had signed up for…

My thoughts were cut off by the screeching arrival of the blue van as it tore into the street. Two things jumped at me: the glasses were tinted, and one of the back tyres of the van was deflated. There was still enough air to keep the tyre rolling, but it was deflated nonetheless. The vehicle sashayed from side to side in that pouring rain, like a wino that had had a wee bit too much to drink. Somehow, my eyes caught the eyes of the driver. The eyes were in that limbo between control and fear as they darted around the street, and then rested on me. The vehicle charged towards me, and I felt my hands tighten around my Glock in readiness for a fiery exchange as I forced my breathing to slow.

These situations were always about getting into a relaxed readiness to move. To act. To kill.

Now, the blue van was passing right in front of me, the eyes of the driver never leaving me, the tyres splashing water on the front of my trench coat, but that did not matter now. I was keeping my eyes on his hands in readiness for whatever those hands were going to produce - and then I heard him shout the words twice, loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the pouring rain:

General Canine! General Canine!

Those were the precise keywords I had been waiting for. I answered back in a hurry, ready to get