“Why did you insist I have dinner with you?”
“I have become aware of the existence of a race of beings that once inhabited both this world,” he said, indicating the water and islands surrounding us, “and the realm of the Fae. They are thought to be approaching extinction. I wish to help them…increase their numbers.”
“And how would you do that?”
“By providing them the environment they need to reproduce safely, without fear of predators or those who would steal their young.”
“Is this personal?”
Odilon answered by shrugging one shoulder and popping an olive into his mouth. “It would demonstrate my ability to see a difficult task to an extraordinary conclusion.”
“What is this race?” I asked. “And what happened to cause them to disappear?”
He wiped his fingers on a square of pressed linen and fit his hands to the curved top of the empty table. With a concerted push, the wood swung to the side on a dowel hinge, revealing an aquarium lit from within.
“Come,” he said. “Look inside.”
I scooted forward, positioning my knees away from Odilon. I searched for fish or some other underwater creature’s form, expecting something otherworldly and exotic. All I could see were bubbles aerating the water. As my gaze adjusted, a cluster of tangerine-sized glass balls floated, unmoored, in clear, gelatinous casings. I leaned forward, tempted to scoop one of the casings into my hand.
Calliope, be careful with those.
But, Mama, they are so pretty.
We have to give them time to grow.
What will they become?
Mama’s smile was sad. Your sisters, she said.
I clenched my jaw and willed my actions to appear…normal. I leaned away from the aquarium, sipped at my aperitif, and asked, “Balls?”
“Ova, Calliope. Fertilized eggs. The host mother died, and these may be all that is left of the Melusine. They have been kept in stasis, awaiting the feeding that will trigger their awareness and cause them to resume their development.”
Crossing my legs and cupping my glass, I stared at Odilon’s face. “What are the Melusine?” I asked. The artfully prepared canapés were going to waste. I speared a grape and a cube of cheese, placed them in my mouth, and chewed. Odilon was not going to find out from me that I had empty Melusine eggshells at my house, or that my hands and feet had been cut on their broken pieces.
Or that, in a dream, my mother had called them my sisters.
One could conjure anything in a dream state. And that’s all it was—a dream, a vision, something I was having plenty of lately.
“The Melusine appear human. They walk as humans, on two legs, yet they require regular, uninterrupted immersion into water so they may release the fishtail that makes them unique.”
“So they’re mermaids?”
“As the name would suggest, a maiden of la Mer needs access to the sea and salt water. The Melusine were thought to be solely a freshwater creature, though these ova were discovered in an area where the salt and fresh waters commingle…” Odilon’s voice drifted off. He returned his gaze to the tank.
“How were they discovered?”
The waiter—Armand—appeared and announced dinner was ready. Odilon maneuvered the top of the tube back into position, covering the aquarium completely, and pressed the button on the device he’d kept nearby. The tube slid down, its teak wood top coming to rest flush with the deck.
He stood and offered me his elbow. “That is a story I know you will wish to hear.”
Lights inside the boat were low, allowing me to marvel at the star-filled sky. At some point during our conversation, the yacht had come to a stop and was now at anchor. As Odilon led me to dinner, I caught a glimpse of the midden beach on the island off to my right. The expanse would glow pale gray-white all night long, as though the bits of crushed shell had captured both sunlight and moonlight for all the decades and centuries of their layered existence.
The dining area the staff prepared for us was on the stern deck. Two propane heating towers were lit, warming the outdoor space. Armand held an upholstered chair for me. Odilon sat to my left, giving us both a view to Chocolate Beach and the silhouette of the island beyond.
“Tomato bisque with mint sauce.” Armand slid low, wide soup bowls onto our plates. “Wine?”
Odilon approved the sample the waiter poured. I nodded when Armand indicated my glass, thinking I would only sip. He bowed slightly and left, leaving Odilon to cup the bowl of his wineglass and lift it to eye level. “To the Melusine,” he said, holding my gaze.
“To the Melusine,” I answered, following his gesture before bringing the rim of my glass to my lips. The wine, a young red if my tongue was still any good at deciphering vintages, was exquisite. I set down the stemware, draped the heavy linen napkin across my lap, and tasted the first spoonful of soup. “Armand chose well.”
“The wine is from the Vigne vineyards, and yes, I chose Armand for more than his skill at serving hors d’oeuvres.”
Small talk. What an apt designation for words that had no meaning. I wanted to clear the table with a swipe of my arm and demand Odilon share everything he knew.
“You were telling me how you came into possession of the ova,” I said, fidgeting with my matching rings. The metal bands were growing looser.
“I did not find them. Someone in my…” He hesitated before finishing his sentence. Sipped at another spoonful of soup. “Someone I acquired for their knowledge of intercoastal waterways along the Atlantic seaboard found them. A male was guarding the eggs.”
“A male what?” I asked.
Odilon leaned away from the table, allowing Armand to remove his bowl. The waiter took my plate as well when I indicated I was finished. He returned with two plates. “Ravioli stuffed with local wild mushrooms, in a sage and butter sauce.”
My host
