‘Go wild in the Wilds: the hottest party beach in Nova!’
No one is quite sure why the mermaids rise in the middle of the night during the full moon. They might bear many physical similarities to humans, but researchers haven’t been able to communicate with them in any meaningful way, at least not enough to give us any insight into their traditions. They’re exhibitionists though, that’s for sure. They rise up out of the sea and show off the beautiful pearls they’ve cultivated during the past month. They’re competitive too, spending the month preparing for the occasion, which has all the pageantry of a beauty contest, and performing for all the people who crowd on the beach to watch them.
The most beautiful mermaid is called Aphroditas. If my guess is right and other teams from the Hunt will be at the Rising, whoever gets the pearl from her will instantly have the most potent ingredient. That’s the gamble the teams are going to have to take: compete for the attention of Aphroditas and potentially gain the most powerful pearl, or lose out and risk not getting a pearl at all.
Merpearls are the most popular engagement ring stone, even more so than diamonds or sapphires. In fact, Princess Evelyn has a merpearl tiara, the ultimate in extravagance. A vision of her picking her tiara apart to get one of the ingredients for the love potion plays out in my mind.
‘Maybe we should have dragged my dad along.’
‘What do you mean?’ asks Kirsty.
‘Don’t mermaids respond best to male voices?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I read . . . a lot.’
‘Nerd.’
I punch her on the arm and she laughs. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. If necessary, I can teach you a few tricks to change the timbre of your voice.’
‘And that works?’
She nods. ‘Rule number one of being a Finder: you work with what you’ve got. Never count yourself out.’
Kirsty barely takes her foot off the gas, and since the highway is deserted – and there are no signs of any police – we make good time. With a few minutes to spare, we pull up to the Wilds border, little pillbox sheds standing like sentries on guard in the middle of the road. I wonder how busy the beach will be. Packed for the Rising, most likely.
I stare down at the paper in my hand, the neat line of printed text.
Full moon oyster merpearl. Crushed. 30g.
The guard checks over our papers, and flicks my shiny new pass with his fingers. Kirsty’s pass is old and battered, even though she has to get it renewed every year she continues as a Finder. ‘You’re late,’ he says with a smirk.
‘Then stop stalling us,’ says Kirsty.
‘Maybe I should take a closer look at these.’
Kirsty leans out the window, grabs at the guard’s shirt and yanks him down towards the window. ‘Let us through.’
I swallow down a dense ball of alarm at Kirsty’s brazenness, but the guard laughs and tosses the passes back through the window and onto my lap.
His ‘see ya’ disappears on the wind as Kirsty stomps on the accelerator again and we whip away into the night.
‘That’s Duke. We used to date,’ Kirsty explains. ‘But then I realised he was a loser and we split.’
I’ve never seen Kirsty like this before. In her element. Her eyes are filled with determination, her jaw set. She catches me looking and grins wide. ‘Having fun yet?’ She shifts gear and speeds up even faster. I grip the edge of the seat, my knuckles white.
A huge illuminated sign wings towards us:
Syrene Beach, 5 km
. You wouldn’t need a sign to know you were getting close, though. White lights reach and dance in the night sky. Occasionally one changes colour, into brilliant magenta or electric blue, and tints the stars an unnatural shade.
A shiver runs through me. The Wilds always do this to me. I tilt my head to look out the window. Someone down by the beach turns a beam into the night sky, projecting out the massive snarling face of a bear. The University of Kingstown mascot: the
No one is quite sure why the mermaids rise in the middle of the night during the full moon. They might bear many physical similarities to humans, but researchers haven’t been able to communicate with them in any meaningful way, at least not enough to give us any insight into their traditions. They’re exhibitionists though, that’s for sure. They rise up out of the sea and show off the beautiful pearls they’ve cultivated during the past month. They’re competitive too, spending the month preparing for the occasion, which has all the pageantry of a beauty contest, and performing for all the people who crowd on the beach to watch them.
The most beautiful mermaid is called Aphroditas. If my guess is right and other teams from the Hunt will be at the Rising, whoever gets the pearl from her will instantly have the most potent ingredient. That’s the gamble the teams are going to have to take: compete for the attention of Aphroditas and potentially gain the most powerful pearl, or lose out and risk not getting a pearl at all.
Merpearls are the most popular engagement ring stone, even more so than diamonds or sapphires. In fact, Princess Evelyn has a merpearl tiara, the ultimate in extravagance. A vision of her picking her tiara apart to get one of the ingredients for the love potion plays out in my mind.
‘Maybe we should have dragged my dad along.’
‘What do you mean?’ asks Kirsty.
‘Don’t mermaids respond best to male voices?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I read . . . a lot.’
‘Nerd.’
I punch her on the arm and she laughs. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. If necessary, I can teach you a few tricks to change the timbre of your voice.’
‘And that works?’
She nods. ‘Rule number one of being a Finder: you work with what you’ve got. Never count yourself out.’
Kirsty barely takes her foot off the gas, and since the highway is deserted – and there are no signs of any police – we make good time. With a few minutes to spare, we pull up to the Wilds border, little pillbox sheds standing like sentries on guard in the middle of the road. I wonder how busy the beach will be. Packed for the Rising, most likely.
I stare down at the paper in my hand, the neat line of printed text.
Full moon oyster merpearl. Crushed. 30g.
The guard checks over our papers, and flicks my shiny new pass with his fingers. Kirsty’s pass is old and battered, even though she has to get it renewed every year she continues as a Finder. ‘You’re late,’ he says with a smirk.
‘Then stop stalling us,’ says Kirsty.
‘Maybe I should take a closer look at these.’
Kirsty leans out the window, grabs at the guard’s shirt and yanks him down towards the window. ‘Let us through.’
I swallow down a dense ball of alarm at Kirsty’s brazenness, but the guard laughs and tosses the passes back through the window and onto my lap.
His ‘see ya’ disappears on the wind as Kirsty stomps on the accelerator again and we whip away into the night.
‘That’s Duke. We used to date,’ Kirsty explains. ‘But then I realised he was a loser and we split.’
I’ve never seen Kirsty like this before. In her element. Her eyes are filled with determination, her jaw set. She catches me looking and grins wide. ‘Having fun yet?’ She shifts gear and speeds up even faster. I grip the edge of the seat, my knuckles white.
A huge illuminated sign wings towards us:
Syrene Beach, 5 km
. You wouldn’t need a sign to know you were getting close, though. White lights reach and dance in the night sky. Occasionally one changes colour, into brilliant magenta or electric blue, and tints the stars an unnatural shade.
A shiver runs through me. The Wilds always do this to me. I tilt my head to look out the window. Someone down by the beach turns a beam into the night sky, projecting out the massive snarling face of a bear. The University of Kingstown mascot: the
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