Submerged: The Mer Chronicles

Retribution

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“You’re lying.” Prescott said in a low-whisper, reddened cheeks shaking, his upper lip glistening as he dove for me again.

Calvin ran in front of him and was knocked to the ground. I pushed myself up against the wall, nowhere to go as Prescott inched closer. “Take that back, you filthy, ocean-crawling piece-of-shit!”

I cringed under his words, smelling his breath that reeked of whiskey as he towered over me, his rounded belly almost touching me.

Forcing myself to meet his gaze, I looked up. His greasy hair was tousled around, a small red track of blood inching its way down his nose, a reminder of how hard Calvin had hit him earlier. His eyes looked crazed, focused directly on me, like he was seeing a ghost and not just some seventeen-year-old girl in front of him.

“She’s my mother.” I tried not to cringe, but I braced myself for the hit that I was sure would come. It was like those few words had pushed him over the edge. What could he possibly do? Kill me? He already made himself very clear that he was willing to do that. Why else would he have a gun? He could react however he wanted, I would rather die than disown my own mother. Ever since I found out about the boating accident, I had fantasized that my parents tried to save me, losing their own lives in the attempt. Never would l let this man bully me into saying Teresa was not my mom. It was the only thing that I knew to be true.

Prescott suddenly stopped, a flicker of light returning to his eyes, maybe the whiskey was clearing. He turned, stepping towards the table that held maps and the photo of me when I was little.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“Thinking.”

I glanced over at Calvin. His eyes were full of worry as he stepped towards his dad, slowly, as if not wanting to anger him. Practiced steps, like he never knew just how the man would react.

“Damnit!” Prescott slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the small clock, and sending a box of paper clips tumbling across the floor. My whole body shook as he turned towards me again.

“What is it?” Calvin asked, moving quickly towards us.

Prescott ignored him. Instead he took his pudgy fingers and lifted my chin. Inching me towards his face. Studying me like I was some specimen, like how I had seen my geology teacher study a rock under a magnifying lens. As he kept inching me closer, I thought, for a second, he might try to kiss me. Bile rose in my throat as he released me, turning away.

“God, she has the same eyes.”

My mind raced. Teresa’s eyes? Is that what he was talking about?

“Dad, explain please.”

“It could be a trick...” Prescott paced the floor, muttering under his breath, like a mad-scientist, whispering and scribbling notes in some thick book that he took off of a shelf. “They’re known to do this...” He picked up another book. I strained to see the title, but it was written in some language I couldn’t understand. Slamming the book shut, he reached for another, and ripped out a page. “Clues... they’d leave clues... or a signature of some kind...” He turned to Calvin. “She recognized that Sirenean on the letter you showed her. Didn’t she?”

Calvin nodded, shooting me a worried glance.

“Okay...” Prescott ran another hand through his hair, pulling a scroll out of a tube lying against the wall. “That was a Sireanean descended from the family of Tralia Scullia off the coast of Sicily... which means ....” Suddenly he turned to me, “Do you know any other Sireneans?”