She remained silent as she thought. Could she know without trialing it during the Ravening? Would it stop her killing him?
This was an important point, because if it worked, might she not have someone to talk to?
As in forever?
Or until he died. She imagined herself returning week after week. He would die before she would, but it raised possibilities. And hope.
Then her fantasy was dashed by cold logic.
She had to kill men to live.
Eyes fixed on his, she decided that even if he wanted to talk to her, forever, she would be torn by guilt. She was weary of killing. Remembering what she had done to Merrick added a final stamp to her decision.
But first, his question?
Never had she considered the possibility of killing a human on land. Imagining it made her stomach churn. Blood spilled on the sand and soaking into it. The grit sticking to her. Their legs tangling as they made love. The sticky residues of human lovemaking – she recalled that too. The dirt.
So much dirt.
The sea was clean.
Raffaela lifted her head, and she looked up at the star-strewn sky.
“If it stops you coming to me, it will work. I find the idea of going to you, there, on land, horrid.” She shuddered then ducked her head beneath the water to wash herself clean of the horrible thoughts.
“Okay.” Wolfgang laughed. “I know the chain will hold. The shackle can only be undone with a cutting tool that I left in my car. I twist in a steel rod to fasten it and must use a hacksaw to get free.” He gestured casually at the vehicle. “My car. You know of those?”
“Yes.” She knew of these inventions. “I’ve seen them in villages and have also seen them driven over bridges that span small parts of the sea.”
What if she could make him go to it and get this tool?
Hah. She shrugged. The Ravening was not sophisticated. It was a furious desire that washed her mind of most thoughts. When human, she had been able to read some letters. She didn’t think any letters would make sense while the Ravening had her.
“You will be safe. As long as that does not cut straight through your leg.”
Frowning, he touched his leg. “You appear eager to talk to me.”
“Yes. I am. This is… new.”
“And so I can trust that you have not lied to me?” His gaze was keen, predatory even – she’d seen sharks look at her like that. She eyed him back, confused. A man was not a shark. Then his mouth twitched up at one corner. “Sorry, but I had to ask.”
“Oh!” Raffela giggled, something she’d definitely not done since she had died and been reborn a mermaid. “No. I do not lie.” She wriggled higher up the beach, though keeping herself in the water. “You are safe now anyway. The Ravening is not upon me.”
“The Ravening?” He fetched something from behind him – a squarish device like a slate, and his fingers danced upon it. “Tell me about this.”
Should she?
What harm could it do? None.
“Also, you said you know of cars from seeing them on bridges? We’ve had them a long time. A very long time.”
He waited then, and she guessed that was meant as a question.
Telling him she was centuries old seemed a key to something. Perhaps she should be frugal and not tell him everything?
She raised her right hand from the water and waved it, vaguely, scattering droplets. “I forget how old I am.”
“I see. But this Ravening?”
“That is when…” She swallowed. This seemed even more terrible when she contemplated telling him. “It’s when I have a need I cannot deny.”
He nodded, encouraging her.
“I take men into the sea.” Her words were muffled in her ears, as if another said them. “I make love to them.” She’d been a whore by trade. Saying that was the least of this. “I take them far down. Fathoms down.” Deep breath. “Then I drown them.” And she bit them. Smelled and consumed them, bathed and breathed in their blood.
He peered at her keenly for several seconds then looked at his rectangular slate and danced his fingers. “Why? Why drown them?”
“It feeds me.”
The waves sloshed back and forth several times. She wondered what he thought. That she was an abomination, perhaps. It was true. So true. And she waited for him to get angry or insult her, or to stand up and walk away.
“I see. And… how do you make love when you have a tail? If that’s too intimate a question, we can skip it for the moment.” A terse smile was directed her way. More finger tapping occurred.
Mouth agape, she blinked. “I change. I have no say in the change. I have legs again.”
“Ahhh. Interesting! Again, though? As in… you used to have legs? What are you saying?”
“Once, I was human. I changed.”
That seemed to disturb him, and he remained silent awhile.
“Will you tell me how it happened?”
The suggestion flashed her back into the hurricane, into being thrown overboard. “No.” She shook her head. It was long ago and too painful a memory. “I cannot.”
“I see.”
He kept asking questions, and most of the time he ignored what she did and kept tapping. But he also stopped and let her ask him some questions. She told him about her place where she went, to sit on the coral, to think. About the pretty fish there, the dreadful sharks, and many other things.
This was a conversation, for sure, and she relaxed into it, rested her elbows in the sand, and found herself smiling back at him.
She was talking. To a man.
Her excitement must have showed, for he chuckled at her exuberance more than
