Brittle Midnight Read online

  Monroe scratched his chin. ‘Legends often get mixed up in the re-telling. You’ve heard the human version, which has no doubt been warped over generations. From what we’ve just experienced, mermaids and Sirens are one and the same.’

  ‘She wasn’t wearing a shell bikini. And she didn’t have any singing crabs with her.’ I cast a quick look around the seemingly empty reservoir.

  ‘What?’ Monroe asked.

  ‘I’m checking to see whether Tom Hanks is about to show up.’

  He tsked. ‘I think you can forget what Hollywood has told you.’ He frowned. ‘If you think about what the old stories say, though, mermaids are tough cookies. Very tough cookies.’

  ‘Walking on knives,’ I said, suddenly remembering. ‘When the Little Mermaid was transformed into a human to win the love of the prince, every step felt like she was walking on knives.’

  Monroe nodded grimly. ‘Exactly. We can surmise that not only does her kind have a high pain threshold but also that they’ll go to any lengths to get what they want.’

  I pointed at the reservoir. ‘What she apparently wants is you.’

  ‘No. She lost interest when she realised I was a werewolf. She wants a man.’

  I shivered. ‘To mate with?’ I asked. ‘Or to eat?’

  He folded his arms. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’ He raised his chin and called out across the lake of blood. ‘All we want is to talk!’

  There was no response. Big surprise: Monroe’s shout was hardly the invitation of the year.

  My brow furrowed and I tried to think. I didn’t know squat about mermaids but I possessed a whole wealth of information that I’d garnered throughout my gambling career. I had laid bets on all manner of things over the years and the most successful ones had been where I’d used my knowledge and hard facts to predict the outcomes.

  One thing I knew for sure was that sound travelled faster in water than in air. The mermaid seemed to be on her own and there certainly wasn’t much in the way of action going on out here. Given the choice between swimming around a pool of blood and ignoring the only visitors who’d shown up for weeks or earwigging on their conversation, I knew which option I’d plump for.

  I also doubted that even if mermaids did eat humans, our flesh was their sole source of food. Drowned bodies washed up on shore and they didn’t all disappear into the hungry mouths of mermaids. Our little tailed temptress probably ate fish most of the time. I doubted there were many of those in the reservoir, certainly not now it was tainted. She was probably bored and definitely hungry. Now that I could work with.

  I touched Monroe’s arm and raised my eyebrows meaningfully. ‘Put yourself in her shoes. It can’t be easy for her being here. I don’t know why she’d choose this place to live when there are so many other good spots with the same, if not better, concentration of magic. Some of my lot were out fishing in the canal and caught some tasty carp. Surely there are other places where she could get a reliable food source and potential company.’

  I glanced at the surface of the reservoir and spotted the faintest undulations that didn’t look entirely natural. Yeah. She was listening.

  Monroe’s expression cleared as he caught on. ‘You know, I once heard Madrona chatting about just such a place. It doesn’t only have fish, it’s got ducks too.’

  ‘Aw,’ I said. ‘I like ducks. Where is this place?’

  ‘Boggart Hole. Traditionally it was a magical spot even before the apocalypse. I don’t know where it is because I don’t know Manchester all that well, but…’

  ‘I know Boggart Hole,’ I interrupted. ‘The lake there is large and it’s fed by various streams and rivers so you wouldn’t feel trapped if you had to stay in water to survive. If I were a mermaid,’ I said pointedly, ‘I’d be somewhere like that instead of somewhere concrete and dull like here.’

  The corners of Monroe’s mouth tugged upwards. ‘But you’re not a mermaid. Neither am I.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  His smile grew. ‘Obviously. Maybe that lass down there prefers it here. We can’t speak for the preferences of mermaids.’

  ‘I guess not. Shame though.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He pushed back his hair. ‘It doesn’t look like she’ll come out and talk to us. We should probably just go.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I sighed. ‘I wish she’d let us help her but you can’t force anything on anyone. It has to be her decision to chat.’ I paused. ‘She might be afraid that we’d hurt her. You are a werewolf, after all.’

  ‘And you’re an enchantress.’ He grinned. ‘The enchantress.’ His eyes held mine and, for an odd moment, I forgot entirely that we were putting on a performance. His gaze dropped to my mouth. I leaned in and…

  ‘I’m not fucking scared of a werewolf!’

  Monroe and I pulled away from each other and returned our attention to the reservoir. Bobbing there, and with an extraordinarily irate expression on her face, was the mermaid herself.

  I gave my body a little shake and re-focused. ‘Of course you’re not,’ I soothed with hopefully the right hint of patronising gentleness.

  She glared at me. ‘What’s an enchantress anyway?’

  I curtsied in her direction. ‘I am. A baby enchantress, at least. I’m still learning.’

  ‘Bully for you,’ she sneered.

  ‘I’m Charley,’ I said. ‘This is Monroe.’ I tugged at his sleeve. ‘It was nice to meet you. Don’t worry. We’ll leave you in peace and put up warning signs so that no one else comes close.’

  Monroe nodded in agreement and we both turned as if to depart.

  ‘Oi!’ the mermaid yelled. ‘Where are you going?’

  Monroe evinced surprise, glancing at her over his shoulder. ‘You don’t want to talk to us, so it seems better to leave you alone.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t talk to wankers,’ she said. ‘But maybe you two aren’t as annoying as I first thought.’

  ‘You tried to get him to join you in … there,’ I reminded her, narrowly avoiding calling the reservoir something hopelessly derogatory. ‘He could have drowned.’

  Various expressions flitted across her face as she searched for an appropriate answer. ‘Well,’ she said finally, ‘he didn’t, did he? He’s perfectly fine. No harm done.’

  ‘Guess not.’ I flashed her a smile. ‘Nice meeting you.’ I turned away again.

  ‘Wait!’ There was a pleading note underlying her imperious command. ‘You don’t have to leave straight away. You can stay a while. I don’t mind chatting for a bit.’ She cleared her throat. ‘My name is Nimue.’

  Monroe started beside me. ‘Lady of the Lake,’ he murmured to me.

  ‘That’s right!’ Nimue yelled. ‘That’s what I am.’

  I took a moment to cast a quick, disparaging glance around her ‘lake’. She caught it – just as I’d hoped she would. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ she muttered.

  Taking the opportunity to angle in more real conversation than screeching shouts, I gave her an interested look. This time I wasn’t even acting. ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘I felt the magic,’ she said. ‘It called to me. I was miles and miles away in the ocean but the magic tugged and yanked and…’ She sighed. ‘I didn’t plan it. I didn’t mean to end up here.’

  ‘You swam here?’ Monroe’s disbelief was obvious and not surprising, given that Manchester wasn’t on the coast. That would have been some miraculous kind of swim.

  ‘No, you furry moron,’ she snapped. ‘The magic carried me here. I let myself feel it from the depths and, in doing so, it overtook me. Before I knew it, I was here in this pit.’ She looked around in disgust. ‘I can’t explain how it happened. It just happened.’

  Monroe and I exchanged looks. Maybe it had been some kind of bizarre osmosis. Maybe Nimue was part of the water cycle. Who the hell knew? If she didn’t know, then we certainly couldn’t work it out.

  ‘We can’t get you back to the sea,’ I said, ‘even if we wanted to. We’re trapped here in
the city too.’ In a manner of speaking.

  Nimue tossed her hair and sniffed. ‘I don’t want to return to the ocean.’ She spread her arms wide. ‘Here I have power. The magic is in the water and it’s making me stronger by the day.’ She licked her lips in a disturbingly predatorial fashion. ‘But somewhere other than this grey bathtub would be better.’

  I was desperate to ask her how she knew what a bathtub was. Or a werewolf. But this wasn’t the time for curiosity, so I managed to bite my tongue.

  Nimue, it appeared, knew exactly what I was thinking. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ she spat. ‘I know your kind. I’ve eaten your kind. And I can survive out of water for a time if need be. I’ve traversed the boards of your cruise ships and your yachts and your steamers.’ Her face took on a dreamy quality. ‘There were times when they were far easier to sink than they are now. Good times.’

  I felt rather sick but Monroe was fascinated. ‘You can transform your tail into legs?’

  I glared at him. He raised his shoulders. ‘I’m a shapeshifter,’ he said. ‘It’s professional interest.’

  Nimue blew air out impatiently. ‘What do you think this is? A fucking fairy tale?’ She swam towards us, cutting through the blood with frightening speed and ease. When she reached the edge of the reservoir and was terrifyingly close to Monroe and me, she raised herself off the surface with zero effort. Blood slid from her pale skin. Then she waddled out completely.

  My mouth dropped open. As the blood dissipated and soaked into the ground, her tail became fully visible. She walked – if walking is what you could call her movements – towards us on her tail fins. She wasn’t fast, and I reckoned a turtle could probably beat her in a race, but she could definitely move on solid earth. I swallowed my astonishment and gazed at the rest of her. Her tail was an extraordinary thing to behold. It was covered in shimmering scales of every hue and colour. She didn’t appear to have any genitals; instead the scales melted into her flat stomach where fish gave way to skin. Standing like that, Nimue towered over both of us.

  She cupped her naked breasts in both hands and purred in Monroe’s direction. ‘Do you like what you see?’

  He met her challenge full on. ‘You’re not my type,’ he murmured with a nonchalant air that I could only admire.

  Something flashed in Nimue’s eyes. ‘I’m prettier than her.’

  ‘No,’ he said simply. ‘You’re not.’

  He was wrong. I am completely, one hundred percent heterosexual but even I found Nimue’s form alluring. I nearly reached out to touch her, unable to help myself and desperately curious to know whether her tail was slimy to the touch. Then I pulled back. Despite her loneliness and her beauty Nimue was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a predator. A predator who swam in blood.

  Apparently unimpressed at Monroe’s lack of immediate devotion, Nimue’s lip curled. ‘You’re lying. But that’s okay. Regardless of your foolish untruths and untrustworthy nature, you will take me to this place, this Boggart Hole. I command it.’

  I shook off the last dregs of my amazement. ‘I don’t see why we should.’

  She drew herself up and glared. ‘Because I am telling you to.’

  ‘Quid pro quo, sweetheart,’ Monroe said. ‘Return the reservoir to its natural state and we might consider helping you. I brought a car. We can transport you there if you do what we need first.’

  The mermaid rolled her eyes then she snapped her fingers. As if a giant bottle of dye had been emptied, the liquid behind her changed colour, transforming from viscous red to murky blue. You’d think it would have taken a while to achieve but no; it was as easy as that. For Nimue, anyway.

  ‘I only changed the water because I was bored,’ she said. ‘And,’ she added with a smirk at me, ‘it was fun watching you trying to change back it to its original state. I knew you’d keep returning if I kept changing it. The first time was an accident. The other times have just been for fun.’ She opened her mouth, revealing jagged teeth that I suspected could tear through any kind of flesh in an instant.

  I resisted the temptation to slap her. ‘We all need a little entertainment in our lives,’ I said.

  If Nimue was disappointed that I didn’t rise to her bait, she didn’t show it. ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Are we leaving now?’

  Monroe looked at me. I didn’t particularly like the idea of transporting her by car. Being in a small space with Nimue didn’t bode well – and the odds of successfully knocking her out were stacked against us.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, hoping my voice didn’t betray me. ‘I guess we can manage that.’

  Chapter Three

  I used to have many daydreams where I fantasised about how my future might turn out, but I can guarantee that none of them ever involved being squashed into a little car with a werewolf and a mermaid.

  The magic in the air meant that the more technologically advanced a vehicle was, the less likely it was to run reliably. It’s the same reason why the small group of electricians I had working on small generators, which in theory could give us power, had yet to succeed. So far magic superseded just about everything else.

  Monroe’s car of choice was a virtual rust bucket with sunken seats and very little room inside. It screamed discomfort even before we piled in, and it didn’t help that Nimue seemed to be going to particular lengths to draw attention to herself. She flicked her tail around as she tried to get comfortable and took up the entire back seat. When she couldn’t squirm herself into the perfect position, she whipped her tail out so that it dangled over the passenger seat and draped down my torso. No, it wasn’t slimy, but it did smell like putrid sardines.

  ‘I have never been in one of these contraptions before,’ she declared, while I did my best to shift away from the fishy reek.

  ‘It’s called a car,’ I said, breathing through my mouth.

  ‘I know what it is,’ she sneered. She paused. ‘So when does it start flying?’

  I didn’t answer. In truth, I should have trusted my instincts and stuck to cycling; I would have enjoyed seeing Nimue attempting to ride a bike. I smiled at the thought.

  I was doing Monroe a favour by travelling with him and Nimue. Obviously it was purely out of concern that she might get peckish and decide to snack on him, and nothing to do with the fact that she was bare-breasted and gorgeous. I had no reason to be jealous if he got together with a fish. It wasn’t like I had any claim on him. Hell, it wasn’t like I’d seen him for weeks.

  For Monroe’s part, he appeared considerably more relaxed now that the reservoir water had returned to normal and there was an explanation for the bloody anomaly. Given his supernatural ethnicity, maybe he was used to this sort of thing. I wasn’t feeling relaxed at all – but then I was half-covered in cold fish.

  I reminded myself that Nimue’s actions at the reservoir were probably a call for help and that she needed this ‘rescue’ far more than she was willing to admit, then I hunkered down for the journey.

  ‘I don’t think much of this place,’ Nimue commented, peering out of the window at the passing buildings. ‘I thought cities would be prettier. There aren’t many people around. I need this Boggart place to have a steady stream of traffic so I can feed when I need to.’

  ‘There will be no eating people,’ Monroe said, his voice stern like that of a headmaster’s. At the same moment, I hissed in exasperation at the flesh-eating mermaid.

  ‘You two,’ she declared with a sniff, ‘are no fun at all.’

  I started to count to ten in my head. No wonder Disney had altered the original storyline and character of The Little Mermaid if Nimue was anything to go by.

  Fortunately for all of us, the journey to Boggart Hole was reasonably short and the route had been cleared of debris. I was surprised at that. There were a lot of trees in this area, and we passed a considerable number of houses and blocks of flats that were sprouting foliage. There were plenty of potholes and fissures in the cracked tarmac beneath the small car’s wheels but there was nothing that actually i
mpeded our progress.

  ‘Someone has been here,’ I murmured to Monroe when we finally pulled up in a small clearing in front of the little lake. ‘Those roads didn’t clear themselves.’

  He shot me a sideways look. ‘I assumed it was your people.’

  I shook my head. ‘We’ve been doing a lot to sort out the streets, but no one from my group has been out this way. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘So you’re saying there are others living out here?’

  I nodded. ‘It stands to reason. Whoever they are, they’re certainly keeping themselves to themselves.’ I bit my lip. ‘They’re probably not going to take kindly to Nimue showing up.’

  ‘We all have our crosses to bear.’ He seemed blithely unconcerned that the nearby inhabitants might have a problem with a ferocious creature who liked turning water into blood and luring unsuspecting males to join her in the depths.

  ‘We’ll have to find them and warn them.’

  Monroe shrugged. ‘If you say so.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘But they might get rather cross at her intrusion.’

  I had the distinct impression he was hoping that was exactly what would happen. ‘Are you spoiling for a fight?’ I asked softly, and with genuine concern.

  Before he could answer, Nimue leaned forward between our seats, her tail slapping me in the face as she shifted. ‘What are you two muttering about?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. I pointed at the water shimmering ahead. ‘Look,’ I said brightly. ‘Here’s your new home.’

  Nimue’s gaze followed my finger. She wasn’t as impressed as I’d thought she would be. ‘I thought you said it was large.’

  She was used to the ocean, I thought to stop myself from snapping at her. ‘We’re in a city,’ I said evenly. ‘This is the best we can manage. It’s a step up from the little reservoir.’

  Her bottom lip jutted out. ‘Anything would be a step up from that hellhole.’ She frowned. ‘Are there any sharks? Or dolphins? Maybe a porpoise or two?’