“Ah,” she said, “it is you. I wasn’t sure I would recall, but I see him in you.”
The little mermaid, who had heard reports that the sea-witch greatly enjoyed clouding her victim’s minds with strange words and riddles, said plainly, “I wish to be made a human.”
But the witch did not respond. She stretched out a white hand toward the little mermaid’s face, her expression fathomless. For a wild moment, the mermaid thought she meant to claw at her face with aged talons. But after a second, the witch grimaced and rapidly pulled her hand away.
“A human,” she repeated in flat tones. “Why would anyone want to become that?”
“Because I love a human,” replied the little mermaid, “and I wish to be with him always.”
“Love?” hissed the sea-witch, recoiling. “What is love?” And she turned her back on her guest to face the wall. After a while, she whirled around and there was a light in her eyes. “I remember now. I remember love. It has been a very long time since I have considered this thing.” And her face contorted and she became ugly for that moment. Behind her, the Sirens shuddered at the sound of the word.
“Will you do it?” asked the princess.
“And who is it that you love?” She spat the word like it was poisonous.
“A Prince,” responded the mermaid.
“It will do,” hissed the sea-witch to her Sirens, a very satisfied expression on her face, “in fact, it is perfect.”
The little mermaid had noticed that when they were still for too long, the Sirens lost their grace and appeared clumsy, as if they had not yet learned control of their massive, powerful tails. They nodded and mewed, and they appeared like a three-headed beast as they lolloped together, entwining their serpentine tails for support.
“The Prince in the castle of mountain and sea,” said the witch, turning back to the mermaid.
“Yes.”
“That puffed-up pretty boy. The one that cuts himself with the dagger when he thinks no one is watching,” said the sea-witch to the Sirens. They nodded their heads and purred, as if they knew all along.
“And what qualifies this person, this boy,” queried the sea-witch, “to be loved so much by you that you would rid yourself of your perfect form to join his wicked race?”
All of the Prince’s wonders and attributes that the little mermaid had carried around within her seemed to flatten and fail. She opened her mouth to speak, but found she did not have the answer. “I don’t know,” she said, honestly. “Does love need a reason?”
And then, the sea-witch did a very strange thing. Her mouth stretched and extorted, and her head was thrown back as if in the process of mutation. The mermaid was alarmed – would the witch transform into a hideous creature before her very eyes? Then, a strange and haunted sound omitted from deep inside the witch.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
The Sirens joined her.
“Aren’t they marvellous?” said the witch, who was now gazing at the three albino creatures fondly. “So useful, and so loyal to their mistress they would sacrifice their own limbs.” And for an instant, the little mermaid saw the Sirens for what they really were: skeletal, transparent things with lifeless hair like noodles and opaque, pupil-less eyes. Like marionettes once enjoyed by children who had grown up and forgotten them, garnished with dead, sagging jellyfish threatening to slide from their faces in one greasy, comical movement. Broken dolls in their shabby bowler hats once so debonair, now pathetic. And then she saw with horror their missing pieces – ears, teeth, fingers and feet, and the great brown patches that grew from them, coated in coarse black hairs. But a second later, the vision disappeared, and the Sirens were whole again, statuesque with yellow hair entwined with poison tentacles. The little mermaid was no longer afraid of them.
“And have you told anyone – anyone at all, about this love?” asked the sea-witch cunningly.
“Yes,” replied the mermaid, “I told my sister.”
And the sea-witch nodded in great approval and smiled an oily smile. “Have you told your handsome prince?”
“No.”
“No, I thought not. When was the last time you saw this person?” asked the witch thoughtfully.
“Weeks ago.”
“And where did you last see him?”
The little mermaid was ashamed of the answer, although she did not know why. “He was in the water, sinking.”
“He was trying to kill himself, naturally,” said the witch airily.
“No!” cried the mermaid, for the thought was strange and terrible to her.
“Then what was he doing?”
“I don’t know!”
“Oh, I see,” replied the sea-witch, “you’ve told yourself that he was trying to find a way to be with you. You believe he must know you, after all, haven’t you returned to his room every evening? And doesn’t he play that infernal instrument for your benefit? Every action must have a reaction. You want to believe it, but you know that isn’t exactly the truth, don’t you?”
The little mermaid said nothing at all.
“But there is something you should know about the human race,” she continued, lowering her voice as if she were conveying a deep secret, “that they are treacherous. They are betrayers and liars above all. They say they love when indeed they do not, and they run about breaking each other’s hearts so often, their lives have become pathetically miniscule. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“So let me get this straight,” said the witch conversationally. “You want to pay me an enormous fee to become close to a human, a traitorous, lying human, who does not know you love him, and in fact, loves himself so little that he recently tried to slaughter his own body. But if he does not love himself, how is he capable of loving you? For if there is one thing a human loves, it is himself.”
“That’s not all,” cried the mermaid defensively, “I want the Immortal Soul!”
The sea-witch stopped dead and stared at her with fascination. “You are not like your sisters, are you?” she asked slowly, with intent. “In fact, you are not like any merfolk alive, are you? Haven’t you always felt special – different?”
The little mermaid had always felt different, but never presumed herself special. So she remained silent, not wanting to taste the witch’s bait. “In fact,” continued the witch, “right now you are saying to yourself that out of all the people you have ever known, the person you are most like is…me.”
And the mermaid cried out, for it was like the very words had been snatched from her mind, and even though she did not understand, she heard the rhythmic drumming of the creature inside of her, and also the pounding of the witch’s, and she knew that a parallel existed between them, but she did not want to know what.
“Bring it to me,” snapped the witch, and instantly, a Siren placed in her hand a little glass bottle that contained a liquid drop, glowing golden in the dark. “This little thing,” whispered the sea-witch turning the bottle over in her hand, “this is what you want? For what I have is mine, and I cannot give it to you. Even if I wanted to.” And she held the bottle up to the mermaid’s face, and she saw that the witch’s Immortal Soul was hammering against the cork, desperate to escape. “But if I die, this would not go to heaven,” continued the witch, “because there is no heaven and there is no God. And even if there were, I would go elsewhere I am sure, for all the deeds I have done.”