Mermaid's Return: The Complete Trilogy: Mermaid's Return

By A.L. Knorr

Discover the depths of a mermaid's heart.

 

Mermaid's Return is the start of a new mermaid mythology, that follows Mira as she returns to land for the first time in over eight years. She is driven by the urge to procreate, to find a human mate and produce a siren child.

 

It proves more challenging than she expected. A siren creates reactions in human males just by being who—what—she is. Is it possible to navigate human society, find a way to earn money, and seek out her perfect mate? Can she overcome prejudice, other supernaturals, and the unexpected to not only survive but thrive on land?

 

This series is a prequel to The Elemental Origins series—which includes Born of Water, and The Siren's Curse series, which does a deep dive (pun intended) into a new mermaid mythology. The Mermaid's Return trilogy contains all three titles Returning, Falling, and Surfacing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.L. Knorr
• Release date: Oct 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215766002

Book preview

One

It was time to leave the ocean. My mother had warned me the call would come. She said every mermaid thinks it’ll never happen to them. Life is too good in the salty water, who would ever want to go back to land? But the Salt will eventually trigger a siren's desire to procreate, and my time was up. I was swimming through a kelp forest when the realization struck; weaving between the tall stems, the fronds tickling my tail like fingers as I swam by. I didn’t know how many years I’d been at sea, I didn’t even know how old I was anymore. The Salt had faded my human memories almost into oblivion; they seemed more like long ago dreams than actual events from my past.

For weeks I’d been swimming north, instinct taking me back to the shores I last stood on when I had legs and feet instead of a powerful tail. As the temperature of the water dropped, the ocean life changed from bright and tropical to the simpler, less flashy hues of the North Atlantic. I remembered this kelp forest, I’d been here before. It was the last one before the long stretch to the shores of Atlantic Canada.

The taste of diesel in the water meant I was approaching a shipping lane, so I descended to cleaner, darker water. Here, the sharks were many, some of them triple my size. I swam without fear. Sharks have never given me a reason to fear them. At least, not so far. We passed each other at a respectful distance.

As I descended to the sandy marine floor, a shape loomed. The tail end of a shipwreck. There are millions of shipwrecks in the world's oceans, and exploring them is one of my greatest pleasures. As I approached, my eyes widened. I've seen many wrecks, but most are small and not much more than junk. This wreck was a leviathan. I tried to remember if I’d ever seen one so big. I drifted over the ocean liner, calculating its size against The Titanic. No, Titanic was bigger. But still, this ship must have been palatial in its day.

As I swam the more than half-kilometre length, I took in the collapsed hull, the crushed ruin of her stern, the exposed ribs of iron beams and timbers, and the jutting bow... still proud. Curiosity tugged at me. It would be so easy to stay and explore. A gaping slash in the bow beckoned me, an easy entry point. How I wanted to swim through the crew's quarters, examine the crushed hallways, shattered chandeliers, and elaborately decorated but rotted ballrooms. This kind of wreck was full of wonder.

Once I’ve found a wreck, I never forget where it is. The ocean was my playground. I pushed the curiosity aside and kept swimming. The hulking wreck disappeared behind me. I promised myself I’d visit her another day. Finding a mate was the most important thing right now, and to do that, I needed to return to the place I last lived as a human. The coastal city of Saltford.

A few days journey found me passing the coast of Saltford. I needed to go a few miles north before I could return and surface for good. I had to visit the place marked with a skull and crossbones on all the tourist maps--Devil's Eye Cove. The locals call it The Boneyard, and for good reason: it has been eating ships alive for thousands of years. A place like The Boneyard means death and destruction to humans, but for me, it's the perfect place to stash a valuable.

As I approached Devil's Eye, the garbage from centuries of shipwrecks littered the ocean floor. Some old, some new, the wreckage scattered for miles was evidence of extreme turbulence and violent weather. It was the result of the clashing of powerful currents, sudden changes in the depths of the seafloor, and a shoreline that forced the water into whirling eddies.

Not always was Devil's Eye a churning torrent of unhappy seas, on many days it was a place of serene calm and privacy, which was why tourists sometimes still risked a visit. Choppy, messy seas didn't bother me, but I was happy to see that today, the cove was shining like the pearl of the Atlantic. Shafts of sunlight pierced the crystal waters, illuminating the jagged rocks and underwater caves. I surfaced momentarily to scan my surroundings. The evening sky was clear. Devil's Eye opened before me, its shape curving into the rocky cliff like the upper lid of an eye. Not a boat in sight. Cliffs plummeted to a perfect white sandy beach. Visible only to those looking straight down from the clifftops or from the deck of a nearby vessel, the tiny beach beckoned humans like the call of a siren.

I flipped my tail and dove, passing wreckage tangled like matted hair. I didn't need the sunlight to see my way into the underwater cave where I had hidden my key, but it was nice to have it all the same. I found the crevice and reached inside for the first time in years. My questing fingers found the small metal box jammed tightly between the rocks, locked there by my own powerful limbs. I retrieved it, cracked it open, took the tiny key and popped it into my mouth. I tucked it between my teeth and my cheek, put back the box, and left the cave.

I had to wait a few hours for darkness to fall before I could surface. I needed the cover of night to go on land. I amused myself by roving the mess of wrecks scattered on the rocky floor. The strong current tugged at my hair, sending it this way then that, my fins worked harder than normal to stabilize me in the shifting salt-water.

I could identify most wrecks easily by now; schooners, ferry boats, fishing vessels, antique sailing barques, military ships and yachts. The ocean was full of all kinds. The destruction the cove could wreak left no one out.

Something shiny caught my eye and I darted towards it, drawn by an irresistible curiosity. The tiny glimmer, no larger than a star in the sky, was more yellow than white. A good sign. I blew away the sand by pulling water in through my gills and blowing it out through my mouth. The silt drifted back to reveal a gold coin. I'd seen enough of the precious metal to know its look and colour. The coin was most certainly old, but it looked like it entered the water yesterday, untarnished and perfect. I picked it up to examine it: a flying eagle on one side, and a woman holding a torch and wearing a flowing dress on the other, both framed by the rays of the sun.

The coin didn't mean much to me, the ocean was full of such treasure. I had found mountains of these types of valuables in my years under the water, but mermaids were not driven by greed. I only ever took something if I needed it. I could exchange this coin for money, and I would need resources to restart my human life.

Tucking the coin into my palm, I combed the ocean for more of the same. Experience had taught me that where there was one coin, there would always be more. I lifted huge pieces of wrecks, shifted boulders, and blew sand away from the ocean floor with a powerful jet stream from my mouth. Visibility dimmed as my digging stirred up silt and sand. My siren-strength equipped me well for unearthing treasure, but still I found no more coins. Several hours went by and the ocean darkened. It was time to go.

Grasping my treasure, I swam the handful of miles south, watching familiar terrain pass beneath me in the gloom. I surfaced and eyed the beach. The lights of Saltford glimmered in the distance, beckoning me home. It wasn't Saltford that was calling me though, it was the promise of thousands of human men. Equipped with everything I needed to lure my perfect mate and produce a strong siren child, all I needed was the opportunity to mingle with people of the male variety.

The mere thought of human legs was enough to morph my tail into limbs. The feeling was pleasant, but the impact of the soles of my sensitive feet on the rocks was jarring. I gasped at the sensation of cold water as my scales softened into skin. Cold was something I’m immune to as a mermaid.

Water sluiced out of my hair and poured down my skin in rivulets as I picked my way onto the beach, wincing a little as pebbles poked into my skin. With the intake of oxygen into my human lungs, my thinking cleared, automatically shifting my siren-mind into the background and pulling my human-mind into the fore. As my lungs became reacquainted with processing air and my gills sealed up and covered over with skin, my resolve hardened; it was time to fall in love and make a family of my own.

It was time to find him.

Two

Finding clothing was the first order of business. Not a difficult task since I'd come up in early autumn and clotheslines were still in use. I had no shame in my nakedness whatsoever but humans were modest, so I had to be too. A naked woman with long wet hair roaming a neighbourhood would trigger alarm for sure. Gooseflesh prickled across my skin from the cool breeze. I would also appreciate the added layer of warmth. My hair began to dry for the first time in years, feeling foreign across my shoulders and back. It was past my waist now; thick and heavy, tugging at my scalp in an unfamiliar way. My skin itched with the sensation of salt drying, a feeling I had also forgotten. I needed fresh water, but I'd worry about that later.

I didn't know what month or day it was, but the season was easy to detect. The smell of mouldering leaves filled my siren nose with its pungent aroma. I detected faint fingers of smoke in the air; a bonfire further down the beach.

I crossed scrubby hillocks and sandy bluffs full of weeds and driftwood before hitting the first suburb of Saltford. Jogging silently across pavement, I found what I was seeking: a clothesline built to look like a tree stood proudly overtop a wooden fence.

Vaulting the fence, I landed in a crouch in the backyard. The high-pitched barking of a dog from my immediate right made me jump. Tearing from his doghouse, he barrelled towards me. I leapt backwards as the clattering sound of a chain against metal violated my eardrums; I was accustomed to the soft squeaks and chirps of underwater creatures. The yapping dog reached the end of its chain and strained, white teeth flashing and spittle flying. He'd startled me, but I wasn't afraid of the creature. As a siren, I was far more powerful than any human ever could be. I could tear him limb from limb if I wished, but I have always been fond of animals.

A light illuminated a patio door.

Dashing towards the clothesline, I snatched a pair of pants and two shirts. Balling the clothing, I sprinted for the fence, far from the dog. The patio door opened as I leaped over the fence, landing in a pile of leaves on the other side where I froze. Someone shouted angrily and the dog yapped a few more times, whined, then went still. The patio door closed and the dog growled, a nose sniffing against the cracks in the fence.

Ignoring the canine, I stood up and walked into the moonlight, holding out the clothing for inspection; still slightly damp. The pants were denim and too large for me, but they would do. I pulled the jeans on, making a face at the feeling of encasing my skin with thick fabric and dropping the golden coin into a front pocket. One of the shirts was a long sleeveless undershirt. As I held it up, a memory flashed: A bearded man—wearing just such a shirt—laughing and throwing a smaller version of me up into the air. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. I pulled the undershirt over my head, which fell halfway to my knees. Next, I donned the long sleeved button up flannel, rolling it’s too-long sleeves up to mid-forearm.

It took me an hour to walk to the culvert where I had stashed my lockbox.

Saltford looked the same, yet different. The trees were bigger, the gardens more lush, there were houses where there had been vacant lots, and children's playground equipment where before there had only been lawn. Saltford was a city of prosperity and I was reminded by the expensive vehicles lining the streets and the large houses with many-doored garages.

My lockbox was still jammed inside the crack in the metal culvert, rusted completely shut. I took the key from inside my cheek and unlocked the small padlock, wincing as the box protested being opened with an ear-piercing shriek. Inside sat a clear plastic bag with a zip-closure containing a social insurance card, a health card, a bank card, a birth certificate stating that I'd been born in Thunder Bay and a thick wad of paper money. I stuffed the goods into my rear pocket. Jamming the lock box back into the crack in the culvert, I walked out into the moonlight, counting the money. $460. Enough for a hotel room. I couldn't remember how much my mom and I had stashed in my bank account, but she'd been sure to set the account up with a bank that wouldn't close it after years of lying dormant. You'll still have to visit the bank to reactivate the card, darling. Fine. Humans liked to make you jump through hoops to live in the civilization they'd created.

I made my way to where I knew there had once been a cheap motel along the highway, beginning to limp as my feet were now sporting a few cuts and bruises. Cresting a hill, I looked down at the road. The hotel was still there, looking worse than ever.

An electronic chime went off as I entered the door marked 'office'.

One moment, called a rough voice from an open door behind the counter. A minute later a man with greying hair and wire-rimmed spectacles emerged. His eyes met mine and his expression went from sleepy to concerned. His brown eyes went from the crown of my head, down my form (draped in my ill-fitting clothing) to my bare feet. My tangled hair hung around me like a curtain. I brushed it out of my way.

Are you in some kind of trouble, miss? His grey brows furrowed.

No. I need a room. My human voice sounded strange to my ears. I hadn't spoken English in a very long time. My siren voice was tucked away, its powers lying dormant.

What happened to your shoes, my dear?

I don't have any. I need a room.

He blinked at me, as though it was the strangest thing in the world for a person to ask the manager of a highway hotel for a room after dark.

All right. He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. It's $70 a night for a single room. I will need some ID.

He looked doubtful about whether I could produce either money or ID.

I dug the wad of cash and the cards from my pocket. It took me a moment to select my birth certificate and to count out the money—it had been a long time since I'd had to do such a thing—and slapped both on the counter.

He stared at the money and the certificate, then back at me. Picking up my birth certificate, he peered at it through his glasses, looking owlish.

Mira Belshaw, he read aloud. Surprise lifted his brows. Happy nineteenth birthday!

He'd just saved me the agony of trying to do the maths; I had been at sea for eight years. I realized he was looking at me expectantly, though I wasn't sure why. Then a recollection about human social graces kicked in.

Thank you, I said.

He made a sound in the back of his throat. I wasn't sure what the sound meant, but he seemed satisfied with my response.

Tell you what, Mira, he peered at me over his glasses again, you can have a room on the house tonight. Just 'cause it’s your birthday.

He handed my ID back.

On the house? My humanity was not fully functioning yet and I struggled to derive meaning from these words. He pushed the money across the counter back and the gesture snapped the words into place. He was giving me the room for free.

Thank you, I repeated, tucking my ID into my pocket.

He selected a key from a rack on the wall behind him and held it out. Here you are. Room nineteen. Perfect for the girl turning nineteen today.

I took the key. He smiled at me and reflexively, I smiled back.

Are you sure you don't need help? When a young woman shows up in my motel office in bare feet and men's clothing, it sure don't look like fair play to me.

No help. Taking my paperwork back, I turned towards the door.

Suit yourself, he said under his breath.

I found the door marked nineteen and let myself into the musty-smelling room. Shedding my clothing, I left it in a puddle on the floor then walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. The bright bulb flickered annoyingly and a buzzing sound filled the small space. A small box shower stood in the corner, a blue towel hung on the rack beside it. Grabbing the bar of soap from the sink, I turned on the water and stepped under the spray. I needed freshwater to draw my human self back to life, but I was going to need a lot more than a shower. I couldn't rinse away the effects of years of being in saltwater in a light spray, I needed to immerse.

I had to be satisfied with rinsing the salt from my body and hair only, and scrubbing myself thoroughly with the harsh soap. I peered at my fingernails, they were short but rough and chewed looking. I'd have to get tools to groom myself properly. When all the salt was gone, I stepped out of the shower, ignored the towel and went out into the room, trailing puddles behind me. I fell into the first bed I'd slept in in over eight years and was unconscious before I was even dry.

Footsteps outside my door woke me earlier than I would have liked. The change had made me tired. I rubbed my eyes, and lifted my head with a jerk at the knock on the door.

Miss Belshaw? It was the hotel manager.

I got out of bed and went to the door, yawning. He stood on the pavement walkway, balancing a tray on his hands. A plastic bag with something weighty inside hung over his forearm.

Geez murphy and all his Holsteins! he yelled, clapping a hand over his eyes. The tray rattled and he fought to balance it with one hand. Please put some clothes on, Miss!

I closed the door, now fully awake. Humans can't handle nakedness, Mira. You know this. Rookie. I pulled on the men's clothing and opened the door again.

I just thought you might like some breakfast, the manager said, mopping his forehead with a kerchief. We don't usually serve food, but I thought you seemed a little down on your luck.

Thank you. I took the tray, my mouth watering at the smell of eggs and bacon.

Also. He took the plastic bag off his arm, handing it over. I don't know if these'll fit, but you're welcome to 'em. People leave all kinds of things behind.

I set the tray down on the little desk beside the door and took the bag, peering inside to see a pair of dingy white sneakers. I felt my first real spark of human emotion as I looked up at the manager; he stood there looking awkward, wringing his hands with worry.

Thank you, I said again, softening my voice this time and trying to infuse it with meaning. I was out of practice, but best to start now.

He nodded and smiled. Will you be needing the room again tonight? I'll have to charge you for it this time, but I can hold it for you if you wish? Was that a hopeful expression on his face?

Ok, I agreed.

He nodded, and turned on his heel. I closed the door, took the tray to the bed and devoured every last morsel. When I finished eating, I checked my pockets for my valuables and the coin. Studying it again, I knew I could turn it into cash but wasn’t quite sure how.

When I entered the office again, the manager was reading a newspaper he'd spread across the counter. He was leaning on his elbows and whistling. He stood up, looking down at my feet.

They fit?

I smiled and nodded. Truthfully, they were a little too small but the sneakers were not what I came to discuss.

Do you know where I could sell this? I showed him the gold coin.

He peered at the item. Where did you get that? He asked as he reached for it.

I pulled the coin back.

He cleared his throat. There's a pawnshop downtown that would take it if it's worth anything. Corner of Pepper and 7th avenue.

Pepper... I began, wracking my brains.

Here. He pulled a square of paper out from under the counter and unfolded it, spreading the map before us. This is where we are.

Plucking a pen from a tin can that sat on the desk, he made a circle around a small square on the map and wrote the words Diamond Six Motel beside the square. Then he circled the intersection of two streets in the downtown core of Saltford. This is the corner of Pepper Street, and 7th avenue.

He handed me the map.

Thank you.

You're welcome. Let me know if there is anything else I can help you with, Miss Belshaw.

I nodded, took the map and left.

Three

This time it was a metal bell over the door and not an electronic chime that announced my entrance. The pawnshop was an old building jammed to the ceiling with all manner of furniture, antiques, records, toys, books, kitchenware, and glass cases full of every imaginable knickknack. Making my way through the rubbish, I found the sales counter at the rear of the store. A woman in a red cardigan read a novel with a man's naked and thickly muscled chest on the cover. I stared at the image as I approached, my body growing warm. She put the book down and looked up.

Can I help you?

I would like to sell this. I set the coin on the counter.

The woman produced a magnifying glass, squinted at the coin, then looked up abruptly. She flipped the coin over, examining the other side. She looked up at me again, awe in her features.

Where did you get this, sweetheart?

I found it.

Where?

I didn't reply.

After a moment she said, I'm not the right buyer for this but I know the person who is. Could you come back in a few hours? I’ll make a phone call and ask her to come.

I watched while she covered the coin with paper and used a pencil to take an imprint of it. She flipped it over and repeated the process on the other side.

She handed the coin back to me. So, can you come back?

In a few hours.

Okay, what's your name and phone number? She picked up a pen and poised it over an open notebook.

My name is Mira. I don't have a phone number.

She blinked. Okaaaay. Can you come back around... well, it's tough for me to say but I'm sure she'll drop everything... she paused and chewed her lip. How about noon?

She picked up the receiver of a taupe coloured phone and hooked the earpiece on her shoulder.

I nodded and turned to leave.

"You will come back, Mira?" she called.

I will, I said, and the bell clanged as I closed the door behind me.

I walked down Pepper street towards the shopping district. There were new stores with brighter, shinier storefronts than before. The streets were busy, full of cars and pedestrians. I entered a retail store with women's clothing in the window and set about picking out several things including a pair of boots and a warm corduroy jacket. I purchased a cheap gym bag to carry my goods and the lady who rang me through helped me fold the clothing and put it into the bag. Next, I bought soap and shampoo, a razor, tools to take care of my finger and toenails, a pair of scissors to cut my hair, and other bits and pieces I would need to clean myself up. As I was paying for my toiletries, a woman pushing a stroller entered the store. I peered into the stroller as she wheeled it past. Inside was a sleeping newborn baby. My heart twisted with longing so powerful my knees nearly buckled. I clutched at the counter to steady myself.

You alright, Miss? asked the man behind the counter.

I nodded, paid for my things and left.

Buying an egg-salad sandwich and a bottle of water at a deli, I took my bag and my lunch back to the pawnshop. Sitting on the antique bench outside the door, I devoured my sandwich. As I was balling up my wrapper, an expensive looking car pulled into the parking space in front of the pawnshop. A blonde woman in dress pants and a business jacket got out. She had a short, sharp haircut and jutting cheekbones. She spotted me as she closed the door and her face lit up with a dazzling smile. Pushing dark sunglasses up onto her head, she stepped up onto the curb in black high heels.

You must be Mira? She extended a lean hand.

The artificial scent of lilac swept over me. Though it was not unpleasant it was potent, my nose threatened a sneeze. I shook her warm hand, the first human skin I'd touched in a long time.

I am.

Angelica Butterfield. Miriam says you're looking for a buyer for that beautiful coin of yours?

Yes.

Great, don't get up. Let's stay here. I prefer natural light.

She sat on the bench beside me and I handed her the coin. She held it up in front of her face, fingers fanning out like a peacock tail. Flipping it over, her other hand moved to cover her mouth and she inhaled sharply. She put the coin down and focused on me, her face lit with excitement.

Do you know what this is?

Yes.

It was a gold coin. Anyone could see that.

Where did you get it?

Why did everyone always need to know that? I found it.

Found it where?

I didn't reply.

She took a breath. Alright, I understand, you don't want to give up your source location. How much do you want for it?

I blanked, having no idea how much the coin was worth. From her appetite for it, I knew it was worth something. But what? Hundreds? Thousands? I wasn’t interested in doing the research. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Make me an offer.

She pondered, studying my face. I’ll give you four thousand. She tilted her chin down and looked at me meaningfully. Cash.

Four thousand. A good sum. Enough to get an apartment and tide me over while I looked for work.

Deal.

You're not going to counter-offer? she asked, surprised.

I shook my head, taking her extended hand. At least I remembered that deals were completed with a handshake.

That suits me just fine, but someone should teach you how to barter. I'll give you another thousand if you show me where you found it. She tucked the coin into a small plastic bag.

I can't do that.

Hmmm. She frowned.

Opening her bag and pulled out a white envelope stuffed with paper money. She counted through it with her fingers and took out a wad, leaving plenty still in the envelope. She folded the wad over itself and handed it to me. I took it and put it into the zippered pocket on the side of my gym bag.

Do you have more of this type of coin?

No.

"Can you get more of this type of coin? she asked, then added: Sheesh, talking with you is like pulling teeth."

Maybe. I stood and hefted my bag onto my shoulder.

Really? Her eyes widened as she stood. "I need