Part-Time Mermaid: Marina Witches Mysteries, #8

1

On the first morning of her vacation at Garnet Cove, Frankie woke to an annoying tapping.

She peered around her cabin on the Pearl, taking time to orient herself. Running her hands over her body, she felt relief at finding skin instead of fur.

While it had been fun running wild in the Realm of the Wereall, she was enjoying being back to normal. Though normal didn’t come close to describe her life these days.

Before Seattle, she’d lived an ordinary existence - well, as ordinary as possible for a jinxed witch. The jinx being almost removed had changed little; her powers remaining unpredictable at best.

Add to that her shifter and demon heritage, and ‘complicated’ was an understatement. If not for her Aunt Selena merging Frankie’s various powers during her time at All Hallows Keep, she’d be even more of a mess.

The tapping escalated to knocking. She knew who it was, but she’d been hoping to enjoy her lie-in. And what a lie-in it had been, with the light streaming through the rear windows putting it close to midday. Without Dex around for his midnight bathroom break or sunrise snack run, she’d actually gotten some proper sleep.

She chuckled, imagining how her dad was handling her familiar’s constant demands. The pup was quite the chatterbox, resorting to barking when dealing with those who couldn’t pick up his telepathic ramblings.

Frankie, wake up! You’re sleeping the day away. We’ve got lots to do. Zane’s polite knocking had escalated to hammering.

Lots to do? What was he talking about?

Get lost. We’re on vacation!

After much needling, Frankie finally got up, dressed and made it to the deck. The merman was pacing, clearly eager to start whatever he had planned.

Am I at least allowed breakfast?

Zane tilted his head, his expression unreadable when he pulled her into a tight embrace, kissing her forehead. She was still enjoying the sensation when she realized they were no longer on the Pearl.

They’d materialized in the resort’s restaurant, where the air conditioning was pumping hard enough to raise goosebumps on her skin.

Why is it so freaking cold in here?

Zane rubbed her upper arms. I thought we could do some training to keep on top of things. I know you prefer it cooler for that.

And what about my breakfast? Frankie demanded.

Zane glanced at her stomach. I didn’t think you’d want anything after that enormous meal last night.

Looking down at her belly, Frankie had to admit he had a point. If she ate before fight training, she’d probably be sick. A hard workout might be exactly what she needed to burn off last night’s calories.

Seeing her acceptance, Zane dropped into a defensive stance. It was all the invitation Frankie needed.

Forty-five minutes later and dripping with sweat, Frankie was grateful for the air conditioning. Though their strenuous workout had left her light-headed and desperately craving coffee.

She held up her hands, trying to stop Zane’s relentless attack. Hang on a second. Give me a minute.

Zane wouldn’t let up, though he slowed his movements. But it wasn’t nearly enough for Frankie’s liking. Stop, stop, stop! she panted. Why are you doing this?

Zane halted his circling. Because I hated knowing you were helpless when Oliver Wright had your wand. Even without your magic, you must be able to protect yourself.

Mr. Wright—in name only—had been the head of the Wreaks, the Wereall enforcers who took care of anyone supernatural who stepped out of line. Or simply anyone who got in their way.

The words Zane left unspoken hung between them. When dealing with the likes of Oliver Wright, there was always the chance of having your powers stripped away entirely. When that happened, a wand was useless, unless you resorted to stabbing someone with it.

Frankie was dwelling on that sobering thought when Zane threw her completely.

Right, let’s try it again with you in your totem form. And no holding your wand when you transform.

Frankie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Could she even change into a big cat with the blue moon over? Guess it’s time to find out, she muttered.

It was another hour before Zane announced her performance was satisfactory. Her limbs felt like chewed string, her fur drenched with sweat. The most hideous thing was her smell, with it akin to Dex after he’d been out in the rain.

After getting Zane’s nod, Frankie padded over to where she’d left her wand on the floor. She put her enormous paw atop it and visualized herself as she was before the transformation, minus the sweat.

When the restoration to her human form was complete, Zane joined her, slinging his still sweaty arm around her shoulders. I don’t know about you, but I need a swim.

A second later, and they were at the end of the dock next to the Pearl, with Zane already in mid-air. He was still clothed when he disappeared beneath the crystal turquoise waters of the bay. It was fine for him to dive in like that. With Frankie’s unreliable powers, if she tried it, she’d end up swimming in her clothes.

Much as the heat was getting to her, she hesitated to join him. The last time they’d been ‘swimming’ together, he’d sent her off the top of his houseboat with an unexpected hex.

It had been an accident, and he had saved her from drowning with what he called a siren spell. Still, it hadn’t changed her mind that the best way to enjoy water was hot and in a soaking tub.

She was still hedging when he surfaced. And not just his head, either. He was showing off like something from Sea World, lifting himself above the waves with that gorgeous tail of his.

He then executed a series of rapid twirls before sinking until only his head and shoulders remained visible. Shading her eyes, Frankie caught a tantalizing glimpse of the rest of him beneath the glistening surface.

Come on in, Frankie. You know I’ll take care of you.

And she knew he would. Why was she stalling? Much as she’d like to use the ‘I don’t have a bathing suit’ excuse, she couldn’t. He knew all she needed was a wave of her wand. Okay, I’ll … I’ll need to change.

She couldn’t transform in seconds like he could, and she’d have to leave her gorgeous silver wand sitting on the dock. It had been a Valentine’s Day gift from Zane, so there wasn’t a chance she’d risk losing it.

Back in the master cabin, wand set to ‘bathing suit,’ she hesitated. What style should she conjure? Nothing as revealing as what her grandmamma favored. Close to naked was how that woman enjoyed parading around. Frankie preferred keeping herself covered.

Even she had to laugh when she looked in the mirror after the first tentative wave of her wand. Perhaps something a little less Victorian that actually showed her knees? She performed more swishes before being satisfied.

The bikini was a dark teal that flattered her coloring without being skimpy. While the bottom had boy-legs and flouncing that concealed more than it revealed. Not since high school had Frankie worn a swimsuit, and despite its modest cut, she felt exposed.

She carefully placed her wand in the top drawer of the sideboard. Instead of magically traversing the spiral staircase from cabin to deck, she dawdled.

She moved with all the enthusiasm of someone headed to the gallows. Could it be her feline totem making her prefer dry land? Or at least dry deck?

She breathed easier when Zane didn’t overreact to her swimwear. His eyes widened, but that was all. Any more and her witchy subconscious would have her back in the Victorian number.

In you come, Shortcake. The water’s amazing.

After this encouragement, he bent at the waist, flipped his tail in the air, and disappeared beneath the surface, leaving her alone.

Despite Frankie’s tendency to dive headfirst into danger, she wasn’t taking that approach this time. Instead, she sat on the deck and shimmied under the guardrail as elegantly as possible. She wanted to enter the water slowly, acclimating inch by inch.

She failed miserably.

With an image of Ariel in her mind, her entry should have been graceful. Instead, she breached like a whale, with water shooting up her nose, the salt stinging her sinuses.

Panic had her firmly in its grip when everything changed.

Calm washed over her. Her vision cleared, and the need for air vanished. Something else that had vanished was her legs, replaced by a tail that flashed pink and blue when she experimented, swishing it back and forth.

She took a moment to process the surprise. Zane said he’d look after her, and it seemed he’d delivered, and then some. This is freaking awesome! Frankie spun on the spot, finding him immediately. I didn’t realize the siren spell could give me a tail!

Unlike her, he didn’t appear happy about her new appendage.

Shortcake, I didn’t do a thing.

Even through a couple of yards of seawater, it was easy to read his expression. She’d have to describe his mien as horrified, with an overlay of sadness.

So much sadness.

Why would her ability to grow a tail upset him like this?

She thought he’d be as happy about it as she was.

2

Frankie and Zane walked along the water’s edge outside the deserted Garnet Cove resort, white sand squeaking beneath their feet. Apart from this and the occasional cry of a bird or lap of waves, all was quiet.

The quietest thing on the island was Zane, his silence far from companionable. He was stewing, and it was getting on Frankie’s nerves.

More often than not, she could read his thoughts and know what troubled him, but he’d shut himself off. She didn’t like it one bit.

She knew what was bothering him. All she needed was for him to admit it so they could discuss it. Patience wasn’t her strong suit, and she’d had enough of waiting for him to open up.

Zane, I thought you’d understand.

The ambiguity of her statement broke through his reverie as intended. He twisted to look at her, even tripping over his own feet, something at odds with his usual fluid movement. She wasn’t falling for the stumble or his puzzled expression. Both actions were contrived.

Getting no verbal or telepathic response, she pressed on.

Don’t give me that ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. I thought you’d be pleased we could explore the bay together. And she wasn’t talking about their walk, with him trudging along, dragging her in his wake.

Her sprouting a tail and gills had surprised them both, but not necessarily badly. How often had Zane gone swimming, leaving Frankie to wait aboard the Pearl? Never keen on water, she’d always turned down his invitations to join him.

Until two hours ago.

Now all Frankie wanted was to race down the beach and dive beneath the waves, even fully clothed. Zane must have sensed this because he steered them up the beach away from the water’s edge.

It didn’t sit well with Frankie; the sea was calling to her. Scratch that, it was yelling and screaming for her to dive in.

Frankie stopped in her tracks, yanking on Zane’s hand to halt him too. Enough was enough.

Right, it’s okay for you to shut me out, but not vice versa. This wasn’t a subject Frankie would usually broach, but she was done with the silent treatment. Great, so I sprouted a tail. Why should that bother you?

Zane’s sigh was heartfelt, his expression sorrowful and, if Frankie read him right, regretful.

Come on, spill. She threw her arms wide before crossing them tightly across her chest.

Zane gave in with another sigh, his words so low she had to lean in to hear them properly. If he was finally opening up, she didn’t want to miss a syllable.

If any of my people find out about your new abilities, our relationship would be forbidden.

What? Are you kidding me? Why?

Rather than make eye contact, Zane looked out over the bay and beyond. Remember when we first met? I told you of the family tradition for our men only to marry witches?

Yeah, kinda. Frankie wracked her brain to recall their exact conversation. It was fuzzy at best, something about keeping the bloodlines strong. But what’s that got to do with this?

And why was he bringing up marriage? Wasn’t it too soon to discuss that?

Zane put his hands gently on Frankie’s shoulders, signaling bad news. Your ability to transform says you’re no longer a witch, not one-hundred percent, anyway.

She’d been expecting many things, but not this. If his people were as picky as it sounded, heaven help her if they ever learned of her other unique abilities.

Rather than address his ridiculous notion that she wasn’t a witch, Frankie dragged her wand from her back pocket and waved it around them. Their transformation was immediate and extreme, with the inflatable sumo suits making them look ridiculous, as planned.

Ta-dah, witchcraft. Ergo, I’m a witch. At most, my ability to sprout a tail is because we merged energies when I saved you from Natalia’s poison. It’s a Wereall thing, not a Nautilus thing. I’m only a part-time mermaid.

I wish it were that simple. Zane waved his hand to restore their normal appearance before leading her further up the beach.

He kept going until they were in the shade of one of the many palm trees that fronted the resort. He sat, telling her this would take a while.

And it did, because the Nautilus people had been around for eons.

Frankie waited until Zane fell silent before she spoke. There’s one teensy problem with your thinking about this.

Her gorgeous merman looked up. The handful of sand he’d been playing with forgotten.

Zane, how is anyone supposed to know about this new ability of mine? You know I can mask myself and others, thanks to my Wereall shifter genes.

Mask wasn’t the right word. Frankie’s disguises were so perfect that she, or the person she was cloaking, changed at a cellular level.

Zane knew this firsthand, with her disguise allowing him to visit Castle Rhaetian and not risk death. Not even the evil vampire Natalia had realized the tiny winged pig who’d made up their group was actually a merman in disguise. If she had, he’d have been dead or undead by now. Or failing those two, a spit roast.

Frankie, the Nautilus folk can sense it through the water. Beneath the waves, we are as one. My people will have picked up on my shock. They’ll already know something is up.

Frankie opened her mouth to blow his theory out of the water but couldn’t. Instead, she copied his actions, picking up sand and watching it trickle through her fingers. She repeated this three times before something occurred to her.

But what about the wards we’ve put around the entire island? Won’t they have stopped your thoughts from leaching out into the ocean?

The protective wards she and Zane had placed made the resort invisible to magical folk. Even humans could sail right by without knowing. If the protective spells have the island and surrounding waters lost in space and time, won’t they go unnoticed by your people?

Zane dropped his handful of sand before picking up another. Even if Frankie didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d know the cogs in his head were whirring.

They soon clicked into place.

There’s one way to find out. Come on. Zane jumped to his feet before helping Frankie stand. No sooner had he wrapped his arms around her than they were back on the deck of the Pearl, Frankie already in her teal bikini.

A brief wave of her wand and she was in her cabin, stowing it in the top drawer of the sideboard. She raced out of her cabin, up the spiral staircase and across the sizzling hot deck. Then she was airborne, leaving Zane to follow her into the water for a change.

Frankie hung suspended in the sparkling blue waters beside the Pearl. The one thing spoiling her lightness of spirit was Zane’s expression. He still didn’t look happy. One thing would have him down in the mouth like this.

You’re picking up something, aren’t you?

Rather than answering her telepathically as she’d expected, he opened his mouth, releasing a stream of bubbles. What it meant, she hadn’t a clue.

Unlike Zane, Frankie couldn’t stay still in the water. She turned while experimenting with her tail. She’d thought having her knees and ankles effectively fused would make her feel trapped.

It was quite the opposite. Thanks to that powerful tail where her feet would usually be, her maneuverability was incredible.

She looked back at Zane. For goodness’ sake, don’t leave me hanging like this. Have the wards worked, or not?

I … I don’t know. They could have. He paused. I’m not getting anything.

Frankie completed another slow turn. Not getting anything? What’s that supposed to mean?

I’m not picking up on the thoughts of any merfolk nearby.

That’s a good thing. Right?

Again, he went all ‘goldfish’ on her, his mouth opening and closing, releasing more bubbles. Getting no sense from him, Frankie enjoyed her swim. Unlike him, she had a lot to learn about moving in the water.

It took a couple of attempts, but eventually she could shoot herself up and clear of the water. She could even flip head-over-tail and re-enter without face planting. Surely her theatrics would rid Zane of that grim expression.

She twisted around to look at him.

Nope. He was still the same.

Frankie left him