Only select monsters in the city know the true story of what happened that day. It’s common knowledge that I survived. I am here, after all, day in and day out, performing during the tourist season. What they don’t know is why I left the young human boy alive that day to spread the story of my demise. Even now, the memory of his face, those blue eyes, they haunt me. He was the second human I let live after seeing me summon Love.
I have been at peace with my fake life for a long time, content with the rules established by the monstrous founders of the city. They are easy enough to follow. Don’t expose the monsters hidden in the shadows and don’t form serious relationships with them. Now, it is unravelling before my eyes with the simple presence of a human woman. One that has been gifted to me by the ancient god I have dedicated my life to serving. She leans against the rail and watches the tourists vacate the ship.
Someone has given her clothes.
My eyes travel across what would have been unflattering on most. They are unflattering. They are clothes meant for work, yet she wears them like they were made for her. The wide legs of her trousers cinch around her hips and waist in a way that is hard to look away from. Her curves trace the form of her body like tall waves, rising and falling in tantalising places that have me wondering what they will feel like crashing against my body.
I purse my lips. Another reason she can’t be here. She is too beautiful.
Delphini turns around, and all thoughts leave my head. Her shirt is wide open, the thing being worn entirely wrong. Pale pink ribbon frames her heavy cleavage and the matching stay highlights the warm undertones of her brown skin. I can imagine the heat of her under my hands. The warmth of her lips on mine, her touch searing away any shiver or chill that tries to ruin our joining. Her hot-
No. I close my eyes to hide her from my sight. She is going back into that prison until I can present her to the group. Until I can keep her somewhere far away but safe.
“She has chosen us.”
And where is my choice in the matter? I have spent centuries searching and even more learning to live without my soulmate. Surely, I am deserving of having my choice now just as much as she did. Love has always been mysterious but fair. None of this makes sense. She is a devastating and ruinous human that can only end in our downfall.
I want nothing to do with her. Her external beauty will mean nothing. She is a human, a being created through ugly violence. Love does not make mistakes; they are all that is and will be. They are greater than any god, but this must only be a test of my will. Renewal of my devotion to our mission to raise them from the depths that keep them imprisoned.
I look at her again. Delphini smiles at me, and I want to hate her for it. She isn’t smug or coy. She seems genuinely pleased to see me despite how our first meeting went. Aoife steps down from the upper deck to take care of her. That is fine, it’s how this all should be. I can’t want anything to do with her, yet when my quartermaster turns the human by the shoulders to take her below deck once more, my eyes follow the sway of her hips.
There is too much time to dwell on my soulmate. There are more tours of the ship and re-enactments while we sail to and fro across the bay, but I know these routines. Like the etchings that mark my body as Love’s, I know every word and step of this dance we concocted decades ago to keep the monstrous appetites at bay. The money these tours make is divided amongst the crew, and the rest is placed aside for when someone leaves. A parting gift to thank them for their service and to help them prosper, to prove that Love is capable of so much more than any other god.
Between each slash of my sword at Lagulla, visions of the past come to mind. Every failed touch at someone new, the chill that would rack my body as they sobbed and screamed. It was inevitable that I grew to hate the touch of others. Any craving I had for comfort, for something more in this life, was chased away with every being we guided to their revenge.
Now, there is someone whose touch doesn’t feel like ice in my veins. Yet I refuse it. Her palm against mine felt like salvation, but I know mine are covered in the blood of so many. She would be horrified to learn what her soulmate had done.
Thinking of Delphini now, my mind is in chaos, shattering the careful world I have constructed to be a haven for my crew and for Love while we fight for their cause. It is a fact that a single human can ruin everything.
It is why we don’t allow humans to know of our existence. It has been a rule since the founding of the city. The moment one learns of our existence, we extinguish them. For most, that simply means feeding. Even that tremendous pompous sandbag knows that our rules are written in stone. A human who knows that monsters exist is a dead human.
Come Tuesday evening, Delphini will be a dead human again.
My steps falter as I even think of her dying. Sweat drips from my brow and my breath catches. The vision of her lying in front of my fire, broken and refusing to wake up, clouds my eyes with tears. How could such a memory bring me to this reaction? Something in my chest aches for no good reason while Love hisses once again that she has chosen us. That I am to accept her as the gift that she is.
Delphini is our soulmate.
However, Lagulla doesn’t miss her step in the show, and instead of slicing through the air, her sword comes down on my shoulder. It cuts through layers of fabric until it meets my skin. The sharpened steel embeds itself in my flesh, but that isn’t what concerns me.
As the crowd shrieks and the crew rushes in to control the ensuing panic, the sleeve of my jacket falls to my feet. The length of my arm, etched with tentacles that mark me as Love’s, is exposed to the sun. Its warmth kisses my skin, but I can’t savour this rare moment. Nobody can see how much I have given for the mission or how much humanity I had to sacrifice to be like them.
“Crew,” I holler over the tourist, “Another shanty to steer us home.”
Neela and the other sirens begin to sing, their magic lulling the crowd into a stupor. Lagulla pulls her sword from me at last and I shove my hand through the ripped sleeves of my clothing to cover my arm. She stares at me, and there is no telling if it is with disgust or wonder. I run below deck and into our home.
Delphini is still not back in the cell.
I should be more concerned about the blood I am dripping onto the tiles, but my eyes are latched onto her. She is carrying buckets of rubble from the bath to the wheelie bin we use to haul trash onto the dock. Her sleeves are rolled up revealing more soft skin, but her chest is thrust forward. Between her ample cleavage, I can see the etching of Love’s mark now. Directly over her heart twists a gathering of tentacles.
What happened for her mark to be placed there?
“Holy shit, what happened to your arm?” She breaks the spell she has cast over my thoughts by screaming.
I sneer at her out of defence and sidestep her. I won’t be lulled into any concern of hers or her warmth. Aoife appears a moment later, and I can see the same question ready to form on her lips.
“What is the prisoner doing?” I demand.
“Cleaning up her mess while the cell is useless.” Aoife nods her head towards the sliding doors of the bath and I stare at the massive hole in the wall.
