Mermaid's Return, The Complete Trilogy

Discover the depths of a mermaid's heart.

Mermaid’s Return is the start of a new mermaid mythology, that follows Mira as she returns to land for the first time in over eight years. She is driven by the urge to procreate, to find a human mate and produce a siren child.

It proves more challenging than she expected. A siren creates reactions in human males just by being who—what—she is. Is it possible to navigate human society, find a way to earn money, and seek out her perfect mate? Can she overcome prejudice, other supernaturals, and the unexpected to not only survive but thrive on land?

This series is a prequel to The Elemental Origins
series—which includes Born of Water and The Siren’s Curse series, which does a deep dive (pun intended) into a new mermaid mythology.

It was time to leave the ocean. My mother had warned me the call would come. She said every mermaid thinks it’ll never happen to them. Life is too good in the salty water, who would ever want to go back to land? But the Salt will eventually trigger a siren's desire to procreate, and my time was up. I was swimming through a kelp forest when the realization struck; weaving between the tall stems, the fronds tickling my tail like fingers as I swam by. I didn’t know how many years I’d been at sea, I didn’t even know how old I was anymore. The Salt had faded my human memories almost into oblivion; they seemed more like long ago dreams than actual events from my past.

For weeks I’d been swimming north, instinct taking me back to the shores I last stood on when I had legs and feet instead of a powerful tail. As the temperature of the water dropped, the ocean life changed from bright and tropical to the simpler, less flashy hues of the North Atlantic. I remembered this kelp forest, I’d been here before. It was the last one before the long stretch to the shores of Atlantic Canada. 

The taste of diesel in the water meant I was approaching a shipping lane, so I descended to cleaner, darker water. Here, the sharks were many, some of them triple my size. I swam without fear. Sharks have never given me a reason to fear them. At least, not so far. We passed each other at a respectful distance.

As I descended to the sandy marine floor, a shape loomed. The tail end of a shipwreck. There are millions of shipwrecks in the world's oceans, and exploring them is one of my greatest pleasures. As I approached, my eyes widened. I've seen many wrecks, but most are small and not much more than junk. This wreck was a leviathan. I tried to remember if I’d ever seen one so big. I drifted over the ocean liner, calculating its size against The Titanic. No, Titanic was bigger. But still, this ship must have been palatial in its day.

As I swam the more than half-kilometre length, my eyes took in the collapsed hull, the crushed ruin of her stern, the exposed ribs of iron beams and timbers, and the jutting bow... still proud. Curiosity tugged at me. It would be so easy to stay and explore. A gaping slash in the bow beckoned me, an easy entry point. How I wanted to swim through the crew's quarters, examine the crushed hallways, shattered chandeliers, and elaborately decorated but rotted ballrooms. This kind of wreck was full of wonder. 

Once I’ve found a wreck, I never forget where it is. The ocean was my playground. I pushed the curiosity aside and kept swimming. The hulking wreck disappeared behind me. I promised myself I’d visit her another day. Finding a mate was the most important thing right now, and to do that, I needed to return to the place I last lived as a human. The coastal city of Saltford.

* * *

A few days journey found me passing the coast of Saltford. I needed to go a few miles north before I could return and surface for good. I had to visit the place marked with a skull and crossbones on all the tourist maps--Devil's Eye Cove. The locals call it The Boneyard, and for good reason: it has been eating ships alive for thousands of years. A place like The Boneyard means death and destruction to humans, but for me, it's the perfect place to stash a valuable.

As I approached Devil's Eye, the garbage from centuries of shipwrecks littered the ocean floor. Some old, some new, the wreckage scattered for miles was evidence of extreme turbulence and violent weather. It was the result of the clashing of powerful currents, sudden changes in the depths of the seafloor, and a shoreline that forced the water into whirling eddies.

Not always was Devil's Eye a churning torrent of unhappy seas, on many days it was a place of serene calm and privacy, which was why tourists sometimes still risked a visit. Choppy, messy seas didn't bother me, but I was happy to see that today, the cove was shining like the pearl of the Atlantic. Shafts of sunlight pierced the crystal waters, illuminating the jagged rocks and underwater caves. I surfaced momentarily to scan my surroundings. The evening sky was clear. Devil's Eye opened before me, its shape curving into the rocky cliff like the upper lid of an eye. Not a boat in sight. Cliffs plummeted to a perfect white sandy beach. Visible only to those looking straight down from the clifftops or from the deck of a nearby vessel, the tiny beach beckoned humans like the call of a siren. 

I flipped my tail and dove, passing wreckage tangled like matted hair. I didn't need the sunlight to see my way into the underwater cave where I had hidden my key, but it was nice to have it all the same. I found the crevice and reached my arm inside for the first time in years. My questing fingers found the small metal box jammed tightly between the rocks, locked there by my own powerful limbs. I retrieved it, cracked it open, took the tiny key and popped it into my mouth. I tucked it between my teeth and my cheek, put back the box, and left the cave.

I had to wait a few hours for darkness to fall before I could surface. I needed the cover of night to go on land. I amused myself by roving the mess of wrecks scattered on the rocky floor. The strong current tugged at my hair, sending it this way then that, my fins worked harder than normal to stabilize me in the shifting salt-water.

I could identify most wrecks easily by now; schooners, ferry boats, fishing vessels, antique sailing barques, military ships and yachts. The ocean was full of all kinds. The destruction the cove could wreak left no one out.

Something shiny caught my eye and I darted towards it, drawn by an irresistible curiosity. The tiny glimmer, no larger than a star in the sky, was more yellow than white. A good sign. I blew away the sand by pulling water in through my gills and blowing it out through my mouth. The silt drifted back to reveal a gold coin. I'd seen enough of the precious metal to know its look and colour. The coin was most certainly old, but it looked like it entered the water yesterday, untarnished and perfect. I picked it up to examine it: a flying eagle on one side, and a woman holding a torch and wearing a flowing dress on the other, both framed by the rays of the sun.

The coin didn't mean much to me, the ocean was full of such treasure. I had found mountains of these types of valuables in my years under the water, but mermaids were not driven by greed. I only ever took something if I needed it. I could exchange this coin for money, and I would need resources to restart my human life. 

Tucking the coin into my palm, I combed the ocean for more of the same. Experience had taught me that where there was one coin, there would always be more. I lifted huge pieces of wrecks, shifted boulders, and blew sand away from the ocean floor with a powerful jet stream from my mouth. Visibility dimmed as my digging stirred up silt and sand. My siren-strength equipped me well for unearthing treasure, but still I found no more coins. Several hours went by and the ocean darkened. It was time to go.      

Grasping my treasure, I swam the handful of miles south, watching familiar terrain pass beneath me in the gloom. I surfaced and eyed the beach. The lights of Saltford glimmered in the distance, beckoning me home. It wasn't Saltford that was calling me though, it was the promise of thousands of human men. Equipped with everything I needed to lure my perfect mate and produce a strong siren child, all I needed was the opportunity to mingle with people of the male variety. 

The mere thought of human legs was enough to morph my tail into limbs. The feeling was pleasant, but the impact of the soles of my sensitive feet on the rocks was jarring. I gasped at the sensation of cold water as my scales softened into skin. Cold was something I’m immune to as a mermaid. 

Water sluiced out of my hair and poured down my skin in rivulets as I picked my way onto the beach, wincing a little as pebbles poked into my skin. With the intake of oxygen into my human lungs, my thinking cleared, automatically shifting my siren-mind into the background and pulling my human-mind into the fore. As my lungs became reacquainted with processing air and my gills sealed up and covered over with skin, my resolve hardened; it was time to fall in love and make a family of my own. 

It was time to find him.