A Mermaid's Tale

A Mermaid's Tale:

This story was a request. It has taken far longer than I planned for it to reach fruition. I was intrigued and wanted to try someone different. I also wanted to do my best. I hope you enjoy it. This one is set in the Shawverse and has characters from other stories as well as a few new ones. It also has a story within a story. When I was a professional storyteller, I created it, I hope you enjoy that one as well. Well, that is about it. Please vote and comment as the spirit moves you. Without further delay a Mermaid's Tail... er Tale.

Now: A tenable moment of time occurring in the ever present now.

One million gallons of water. The aquarium was one of the largest in the world and yet it was nearly empty. She swims alone. This tank is closed to the public. While the families watch the sharks and other aquatic wildlife swim in carefully prepared ecosystems she swims alone. Only a few and all of them extremely wealthy visit her and watch her swim. She is alone because she is to be moved soon to a military black site for training. If she musters out successfully, she will be the mother of the next generation of aquatic warriors. But for now, she swims alone.

A solitary figure stands near the thick glass wall watching her frolic and swim. The hood is up, dressed casually in jeans, and brand-new tennis shoes. The figure reaches out and a loud clack of a wedding band strikes the glass. She moves like a living torpedo and hovers near the other. Her long mane of colorless hair hangs behind her like a cloud of spider silk or fine-spun glass. She places her webbed hand against the glass mirroring the solitary figure.

"You do not remember me, do you?" The figure asks and sees the blank expression on the mermaid's face. Her eyes, protected by nictating membranes, are gorgeous yet empty. "They took your long-term memory did they. Pity. I am leaving. They are coming for you soon. They are going to turn you into a weapon. You are going to kill until, if you are lucky, they will breed you like a racehorse." The bitterness is like poison and she flinches and swims away. "You will never be able to swim fast enough to escape them." The sound of a door banging alerted the hooded figure. They dash silently to an access tunnel and flee with a smile on their lips.

"There she is gentleman," the barrel-chested man known only as the General harumphed as he and six others approach the aquarium. "She has to be kept alone. When she is placed with fish she goes on a killing spree. Vicious bitch really."

"A good beginning." The man in the thousand euro suit chuckled. "I hear she performed at the Zoo for a time."

"That was our initial cover for her. She performed well enough." The General snickered. "That was before the chemical lobotomy became necessary. She went psychotic. She killed the lead developer and had to be put down, per se."

"They never found his body, did they?" The American asked as he placed a THC patch on the side of his neck. "Anyone?" He offered from an open platinum case containing more patches. "Takes the edge off."

"That would be the crew," the General rumbled as the double doors leading to this aquarium burst open and a crew wheeling a glass and metal cylinder entered. "She is all yours gentlemen. Do you wish to stay and watch or perhaps you would prefer lunch at my club?"

"I have never been to the Janus Club," the American said his voice tinged with a dreamy quality. The rest chose food over watching the mermaid be drugged, netted, and stuck into the portable tank.

Big News Day: Three Months Earlier

George Inkpen sat in his kitchen reading his morning paper. The kitchen is small and simple despite his vast wealth he prefers not to flaunt his riches. He remembered how his father had pissed off his friends and neighbors for no better reason than because he could. He had hated it then and even though his father was long dead the memory remained. A low rumble of distant thunder and blackening horizon seemed to mirror his mood. He harrumphed to himself and raised the paper to blot out the darkening skies outside his kitchen window. The thin graphene sheets had their own individual WIFI connection allowing them to display the latest stories from news, social media, and any other sources the user designated. They were also capable of playing videos from streaming sites if desired. The strong flexible material allowed him to fold it when not in use and tuck it under his arm. He felt it was a perfect blend of tradition and technology. George gave the newspaper a shake which sent a command to look for new items of interest.

"Well, I will be damned," he cursed. "They passed it." His gunmetal grey eyebrows furrowed.

"Passed what?" Ivy Rainwater asked as she stumbled down from her bedroom. "Morning dad." She said as she yawned and stretched.

"Morning? It is two in the afternoon girl." George informed his half-dressed daughter. "Parliament passed the CGTA. This will not end well mark my words." He stated as he reached for his cup and sipped his tea.

"What is a CG...?" Ivy stumbled over the acronym still only half awake.

"Cosmetic Genetic Therapy Act," George explained. "It means that folks can take on non-human characteristics." He said making a distasteful noise. "Can you imagine cat girls, dog boys, and god knows what all else?"

"Oh my god," Ivy said the color draining from her face. "That explains everything. She knew. Somehow she knew it would pass."

"Care to fill me in?" George asked remarking how much she looked like her mother. 'Gods how I miss her.' He thought as Ivy explained.

"The club I dance at," Ivy began and saw the look of disapproval on her father's face. "It pays the bills. Speaking of... here is this month rent." She said as she dug out folded bills from inside her panties. Ivy had been reduced to dancing when her wealthy father cut off her allowance when he saw what it was being spent on. To say that he did not approve of her hedonistic lifestyle was putting it mildly. She needed to learn the value of money. Pity she chose to expose her body to men with too much money on their hands. He prayed she was not sleeping with those same me for more cash.

" Just lovely," He said and pointed at the corner of the kitchen table. "I wish you would get a real job. You are smarter than this. No. Do not give me that. You and your sister graduated top of your class at university. I can ask around. You wanted to be a doctor. You still can be."

"Dad, I... I will think about it." Ivy replied meekly. She was too deep in debt to the wrong kind of people to just go back to university to become a doctor not without help. They would hurt her, maybe even kill her if she did not perform for them and their special friends. She shuddered even though the weather had yet to turn, for now.

"Listen, I am old, and I know you do not like to talk about it. Please call your sister. You fucked up but that does not mean forever." He urged as his smart watch alerted him just before the pain crashed into his chest.

"Dad!" Ivy rushed to her father's side even as the wrist device injected medication directly into his bloodstream. He had plenty of money to fix his damaged heart. Hell, he could have had one cloned and implanted without fear of rejection. The problem is that he did not care. She had left him. Mom's capricious nature and perpetual wanderlust had driven a wedge between them. He had lived in this house as had his family for nine generations. He could not drop everything and leave. She had called him a prisoner and too late he realized she was right. Too late she quit accepting his calls. Life without her was not worth living. Ivy held his hand as the medicine did its work. "I will talk to Iris. I will try and fix things, for you."

"No," he gasped as the pain slowly receded. "You have to do it for you or not at all. Forgive yourself and I know Iris, she will be thrilled to have her twin back in her life."

"I will try. I cannot speak for Iris, but I will try." Ivy promised as she stroked the top of her father's head. "Let me help you to bed. You need to rest and once I am sure you are okay. I will call Iris."

She helped her father down the hall to his bedroom. Because of his heart his bed and things had been moved to the first floor. Doctor's orders, walking up steps was a no-no. Ivy sat with him until his eyes fluttered shut and he drifted to sleep. He looked so fragile and his face was still tattooed with the memory of pain. She was about to call dad's nurse, but she was already coming through the front door and heading towards the bedroom.

"I got an alert. Lucky I was close. How is he doing?" Nurse Bliss asked as she opened the antique doctor's bag George had given her for Christmas last year.

"The bracelet injected his meds and he stabilized." Ivy replied as the nurse looked at how she was dressed. "I just woke up."

"You need to help him," Bliss said her voice sharp and serious. "You and your sister are designated to make medical decisions for him. I know this might come back and bite me in the ass, but I fibbed and sent an order through for a cloned heart. Help me help him and sign off on this. He needs this if he is going to survive long term."

"I don't want to lose him." Ivy said. "I want him around to see me and Iris fix things between us. Do it." She said and placed her thumb on the data pad. "Be gentle with him and blame me. I can handle it."

The ambulance pulled up and took the sleeping man for surgery. Bliss informed the medics about the sedative so the surgeon would know and take it into account. Once George was safely in the ambulance the two women sat and let out a sigh of relief.

"He is going to be upset," Bliss said.

"He is going to be pissed you mean." Ivy laughed and then grew quiet. "He misses his wife. She left ten years ago."

"They are still married?" The nurse asked.

"Yeah. He still loves her, and I know she loves him." Ivy stated doubtless.

"Do you look like her?" Bliss asked and Ivy nodded. "I get it. If my girlfriend looked like you, I'd mourn her too." Ivy chuckled and pulled up the family's digital photo album. She showed photos of her mom and dad on vacation. "Holy shit! No wonder he feels lost. Does she model like you and your sister?"

Bliss accepted the tablet and swiped through the images of Ivy's mother. She felt the compulsion grip her and entangle her lust and love welding it into a need to meet this woman. Ivory Inkpen stood six feet even and was all legs, ass, and tits. Her facial features defied a simple ethnic origin. Her upswept almond shaped eyes looked Asian, her prominent cheek bones hinted at Slavic blood, her full mouth and pouty lips could have been of Middle Eastern or African origin. Her ass screamed Brazil. The rest of her was perky, firm, athletic, and built not just for beauty but function and flexibility.

"No, she is a professional world traveler, well that is what she calls herself." Ivy said feeling the loss herself. Mom always had the right answer for every question. "You are drooling. It is okay she does that to everyone."

"I better go. I will keep you in the loop as I get details about George's surgery. You did the right thing." Bliss said encouraging her. "Oh, if you ever want to talk or just have a pint call me." She said swiping her wrist device and sending her digital business card to Ivy. "Your mom isn't the only one that does it to others." She added with a smile and a wink.

Ivy watched the nurse leave and smiled as she thought about what would happen when her father awoke in the hospital with a new heart. We had both done the right thing she thought. Now it was time to repair things with Iris. She had made a promise and damn it for once she needed to speak with her twin. Besides their birthday was coming up and it had been two years since they had spoken. Ivy glanced around the bedroom and decided it would be a nice touch and perhaps lessen her father's ire if she cleaned up and changed the sheets and pillowcases. She stripped the bed, loaded the washing machine, and as it started Ivy picked up and wiped down surfaces. She made the bed and felt a wee bit of satisfaction.

"I need a shower," she said sniffing her art pits. "Damn, I worked up a head of steam last night." She continued and then paused. The sense of being watched crept up on her and she spun around feeling as if someone had slipped in through the unlocked front door. "Bliss?" She called out. "I am losing it." She stripped down, opened the washing machine door and tossed in her clothing. Ivy strode down the hall to the front of the house. She shivered and once more that sense of being watched blossomed. Ivy shivered and looked around. She caught her expression in her father's favorite acquisition the antique mirror. It had a sorted history, and many died to grain possession of it.

"Why the hell do they call it the Janus Gate?" She asked as to turned to face the mirror. The frame seemed to represent the four classic elements. The upper right-hand corner dominated with clouds and whisps of fog. Those whisps merged with the sand on the upper left-hand side. The sand became cliffs and mesas. The stone transitioned to a hellish underworld. She thought that is displayed what the interior of a volcano must be like. The lava flowed to the right and with an almost audible hiss of steam the last corner greeted her gaze. The lovely display of water and ice had always been her favorite.

The sense of watching changed. It was no longer the fear of a stranger but the heat of knowing that someone she knew was thinking about her. "Booker?" She remembered his touch and the feeling of connection they shared. Ivy laughed when he told her his actual name.

"It is Anderson, Bob Anderson, but I prefer Booker." He had said as he lay between Iris and her.

"Mr. Anderson," she had said attempting her best Agent Smith impersonation.

"I was thinking the exact same thing," Iris laughed. That was just before it all ended. "I never should have fucked him." She whispered as her thoughts turned to her sister's husband. "She married that piece of shit." First though, she needed to see her mother and tell her everything that she knew. Mom would know how to handle this, she always did. There was comfort in that. The only problem was tracking her down. "I love you dad." She placed her left hand on the surface of the mirror. Her reflection seemed to hesitate before following suit.

The Zoo:

Chief Inspector Pendergrass sat in the passenger seat as his latest sergeant drove him to the East Side of London. Centuries of history and still it drew a seedy crowd and the seediest among them was Maggie Pinehurst, but everyone just called her Mags. She owned the gentleman's club known by locals and visitors alike as the Zoo. It was a strip club that charged too much for a pint of beer and was at the center of a dozen missing persons cases. Pendergrass' presence here today was to get irrefutable evidence and discover what was going on behind the scenes and those involved.

"You have that look," Sergeant Ames remarked as they waited for the electric signal to change.

"Oh, do I now. This is going to turn ugly if this girl winds up dead." Pendergrass snarled angrily. "I do not need this kind of shite."

"Too right," the young man declared. "I have heard Mags and the White Chapel Gang are part of a slavery market. She funnels girls from all over to her customers."

"I have heard that as well," Pendergrass replied pinching the bridge of his nose trying to stave off the headache. "Park over there." He directed to a lot across from the club. "Slow, circle round... damn it Mags this is the last fucking time!" He cursed when they drove beneath a light pole and attached to it a damaged security camera. "Find a spot and park. This is out of my hands now."

"Indeed, it is Chief Inspector." Came the cold metallic voice from his A.I. partner. "We cannot ignore the link between damaged security and missing young women." Pendergrass had chosen to have what the community called a BMI or Brain Machine Interface implanted. It along with subdermal speakers behind his earlobes and the optical peripheral made him cutting edge law enforcement. The nanites embedded in his optic nerve allowed Sherlock or any other A.I. to display anything from a criminal's history to linguistic subtitles when dealing with non-English speaking individuals. He could and often did tie in with drones utilized to scan a crime scene and see clues or situations in real time.

"Let me take the lead Sherlock," Pendergrass chuckled. "I cannot believe they named you that."

"I enjoy the irony actually. It is better than the other. Do I sound like a Spock to you?" Sherlock asked as the sergeant laughed. He listened to Sherlock via a sophisticated ear bud that low ranking police were issued. The police budget could not cover all officers be given such expensive cutting-edge technology. The car slid into a spot facing the club. "You see Pendergrass even your sergeant agrees with me. I will remain silent as long as I can."

"Thanks, let us go and get this the hell over with." Pendergrass said with a long stressful exhalation. He had known Mags since they were kids. They had grown up in the same neighborhood and it pained him that she had sunk so low. She had been a good kid once. He bottled up his emotions and was determined to deal with this once and for all. If need be, he would hand over the investigation to another inspector to avoid any hint of impropriety.

The two men crossed the street and walked in through the open door, the door the workmen were passing in and out of. The Zoo was closed for renovations. It had been for three long weeks and likely three more. Mags was in the main portion of the club holding a set of graphene blueprints. She was studying the current display and then looking up to compare reality with an engineer's dream. The workers were currently lowering a section of clear reinforced piping into place. Mags was a thirty-year-old strawberry blonde whose once stunning good looks were now showing signs of the wear and tear of the stressful life, she had created for herself. Worry lines and premature aging marked her sins as much as the huge amount of money in her offshore bank account. She absently pushed the strand of grey hair behind her ear. It was one of her few tells that told those smart enough to steer clear.

"Mags." Pendergrass greeted her softly.

"Michael," she replied as she turned to face him. "Ooh, fresh meat, is this your latest?"

"He is." Michael said without introducing his driver. "We need to talk."

"Do we now? Do I need my solicitor present?" She followed up smiling and then frowned when he nodded his head. "We go way back Michael."

"And that is why this breaks my heart," Pendergrass said his voice hollow and strained. "I am shutting you down. There is not going to be a reopening."

"No! You cannot do that! Why?!" She panicked her blue eyes wide in genuine fear. "I will fight it! Whatever it is I will fight it to the bitter end!" She closed her eyes and calmed herself. "What is it this time?"

"Destruction of government property." He said and listed off not just the obvious unit across the street but four others that covered different sides of the club and neighborhood. "Damn it Mags, I warned you... I fucking warned you! This is on your head."

"You are too upset for this to be just about those damn cameras." She said the color draining from her face. For just a moment true unadulterated fear shone in her eyes. "Well?"

"I am here today about the cameras. Here," he gestured and sent her an electronic copy of the cease-and-desist order. "Send the workers home Mags."

"Oi! You lot! Finish up and go. Police orders." Mags shouted.

'You were right Pendergrass,' Sherlock said via his heads-up display or HUD. 'Seven and counting.'