Chapter 23

Magritte had insisted on coming along with Rafaele for his fourth visit to the mermaid’s aquarium. She had scolded him and refused to speak with him for the entire night upon his return. Throughout the day, he eventually made it up to her by promising to bring her along during his next visit, and assuring her that they could play all of her favorite songs. It wasn’t much in the way of apologetic favors, but Magritte was always an easy one to please.
The sky had already started showing early signs of dusk and had begun to pale by the low hanging sunlight. The air had become somewhat chillier over the past days, and while Rafaele rarely left without a jacket, Magritte had finally been forced to break out her warm shawl to cover her arms.
Magritte had spent the latter half of the walk talking to Rafaele about all the strange insects she had never seen and wished she had. She went into lengthy detail as to why they would be so nice to have around, and how the general fear of them among ladies in particular was mostly unfounded. Rafaele himself didn’t have much to contribute, but had no qualms listening to her prattle on about the unrivaled beauty of a fat, green, praying mantis.
Her train of thought trailed off into silence as she slowed to a halt and squinted at what she saw down the street.
Rafaele nudged her. “Go on, I was listening.”
She waved him away. “There are police in front of Everett’s house.”
He followed her gaze until he saw them too. “Interesting, I wonder if there was trouble with a patron or something.” Rafaele pulled on her arm, nodding his head towards the Allvar estate.
With a new sense of curiosity, she followed beside him. As they approached the place, Rafaele was first to notice the broken window of the private collection house. He was about to cut across the yard and inspect the damage when an officer stopped him.
“Unless you’re the property owner, you’re not allowed to be here.” The taller man frowned at the musician.
Rafaele reeled back slightly. “What happened? Vandals?”
“An armed robbery,” the officer corrected. “Now if you’d please leave, there’s nothing for you here.”
Rafaele was about to argue, but Perry’s voice cut in. “Nope, no, that’s fine. Let them in, Everett would want them to take care of the aquarium.”
The officer looked at the larger man somewhat bewildered. “The aquarium?”
“It’s a deal they have with Mr. Allvar.” Perry herded the musicians away from the police and towards the entrance of the small museum. “Which, need I remind you, he’s already upset enough with how your lot have handled the situation here, and I wouldn’t step on his toes further if I were you.”
“Perry, what happened?” Rafaele frowned. “Is Atlanta alright?”
“The mermaid is fine,” Perry sighed. “A man broke in during the middle of the night and Leopold sunk some teeth into him. By the time Everett got there, the poor sod was already dead.”
Both of the musicians blanched at the grim news, and Rafaele cast a wary eye at the door to the collection. “It the tiger still in there?”
Perry deflated himself with a heavy sigh. “I’m afraid not, and he never will be again. He was a threat and they had to put him down.”
Magritte turned her gaze to the ground. “That doesn’t seem very fair to me.”
Rafaele bit his tongue. It had never been beyond his imagination to picture the tiger attacking someone should he have felt threatened by them. It didn’t make sense not to expect it. The thought was insensitive and he refused to voice it. Instead, he put an arm around Magritte and rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. “Maybe we ought to come back once things have settled down.”
Perry held out a hand to stop them. “No, no. Everything’s back in order in there, but Everett’s disappeared and hasn’t returned. I don’t know what to do with the mermaid, she won’t talk to me. I’m worried about her, she watched the entire ordeal. Please, if you could just make sure she’s alright…”
Magritte looked up to Rafaele who remained unconvinced that it was a good idea. She jostled his arm. “We could play some nice music for her, and talk to her and assure her that everything’s going to come out fine.”
He conceded with a sigh. “There wouldn’t be much else we could do beyond that. Alright, let’s see how she’s doing.”
With great relief, Perry unlocked the Cabinet’s door and allowed the two musicians to enter. Rafaele and Magritte glanced around soberly for any evidence of the unfortunate chain of events that had taken place during their absence. Whoever was in charge of cleanup had done a good job. The only damning pieces of evidence were the broken glass of a display piece, and a handful of missing or misplaced objects.
They approached the aquarium and Rafaele spotted the mermaid behind a patch of seaweed. He placed down his violin case and pressed his hands again the glass. “I hear you’ve witnessed quite a spectacle.” His voice was humorless.
Atlanta didn’t emerge from her hiding place. “I don’t know why they killed him. He did a good thing by protecting the museum, didn’t he?” She ducked down further still. “I don’t want them to come after me, too.”
“Oh, no, they wouldn’t!” Magritte piped. “You didn’t do anything! Leopold killed someone, and that’s why—they didn’t see it as protecting the place, they saw it as a random attack by a dangerous animal.” She frowned at the mermaid empathetically. “It’s not fair, it’s really not fair. But you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you, I promise.”
The mermaid lifted her head cautiously from the safety blanket of seaweed. “I still don’t understand.”
“You’re safe,” Rafaele reconfirmed. “Trust us on that one thing.”
Slowly, Altanta snaked through the flora and towards the two musicians. She settled her gaze upon Rafaele. “I don’t feel safe in here. I came to this place looking for the romantic adventures of stories. I was promised love, and that I’d get to visit new places, see new things. I thought I’d be freed by it, but I’ve only become trapped.” She propped herself up to Rafaele’s eye level. “I want to go home. You can take me home, can’t you?”
“I really can’t.” Rafaele dropped his hands. “Magritte and I can’t do much except play the fiddle and offer a bit of conversation.” He took up his violin case. “Would you like us to do that? Perhaps it’s not enough. It’s fine if you’d rather be left alone, we’d certainly understand.”
The mermaid fluttered. “No! Stay, please. Maybe one song. Maybe we can talk about things. Please? It’s been a confusing day, but you two still make sense to me.”
Magritte smiled up at Rafaele knowingly, and with little hesitation, he unbuckled his instrument case. “Alright, then. It’s Magritte’s pick tonight, so brace yourself.”
She took up her own instrument, and with a forced smile said, “We’re going to play something light and airy.”
Rafaele tampered with the tuning pegs of his violin. “Good choice.”
The younger musician ran her bow across the strings experimentally before breaking into the first song, not waiting for Rafaele’s ready. It was fine by him; he joined in soon after, weaving his notes flawlessly into hers. It was a breezy song in high notes, with plenty of the long drawn out notes Magritte loved. It was also a more challenging piece, which Rafaele appreciated. It allowed both of them to close their eyes forget where they were. Music was always a good vessel for traveling to kinder places.
Perhaps all too soon, the song came to a close. Lowering her instrument, Magritte turned her eyes up to the mermaid. Already she appeared in better spirit; it seemed the music was able to transport her just as well.
“I liked that piece,” Atlanta whispered. She thought for a moment before asking Magritte. “Have you ever been in love?”
Rafaele tilted his head back with a groan. “Really?”
“Well I never got to ask her,” the mermaid frowned. “I want to know.”
Magritte seemed rather put off by the question, but the tangent topic was more welcome to her than dwelling on gloomy events. “This was yesterday’s subject, I gather?” The mermaid nodded and Magritte slowly turned her gaze to Rafaele. “And your response was..?”
Rafaele provided a nonchalant shrug, “No.”
“Really?” Magritte furrowed her brow. “Never once?”
The mermaid pressed against the glass of her aquarium. “That’s what I said, too!”
The younger musician pinched her fingers together. “Not even maybe a teeny tiny bit, perhaps a faint possibility? Not ever?”
“You’re more persistent than she is about it,” Rafaele pointed. “Come on, you’ve known me for long enough, when have I ever even mentioned such a thing? It’s really not that difficult to believe, is it?”
She deflated with a sigh. “Hm, I suppose not, then.”
The mermaid beamed at Magritte. “So you have then? You have! What’s it like?”
“And since when?” Rafaele wrinkled his nose over an incredulous grin.
Magritte shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Oh, no—I wasn’t implying that I ever had, I was just surprised, is all. I don’t know why.”
The mermaid squinted at her, and Rafaele lifted his brow. Neither of them appeared convinced.
“Honestly,” Rafaele opened his palms. “Who are we going to tell?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Magritte laughed him off, nervously stuffing her viola back into its case. “Oh, I trust you, but it’s not something I’m ready to...well.” After buckling up the instrument case, she straightened herself out and turned to Atlanta. “It’s frustrating, because it’s always just out of reach. It’ll knot your stomach up and keep you awake at night. It makes you want to scream and kick, and say something, but you can’t because it’s terrifying. Quite honestly, it’s the worst feeling in the world.” Without so much as a glance towards Rafaele, she exhaled. “I’ve suffered it ever since he came along, for five years, and even still.”
The older musician frowned, unfolding his arms.
“And now I really must go home to anguish in what I’ve just said. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a smirk and a shrug, she turned on her heel, paying no heed to her slack jawed subject of her confessed affections. She whisked herself to the entrance, and out the door, leaving both Rafaele and the mermaid staring silently after her.
The mermaid cocked her head. “Why did she have to leave?”
Rafaele tried to swallow down his heart. He turned to her to reply, but there were too many words to say, and none of them actually made any sense. So he only gaped.
Atlanta read the answer on his face. “Ohhh! Oh, it’s you, isn’t it? It’s you! She’s in love with you!” She brought her hands to her face and cupped her cheeks. “This is amazing; I’m seeing this! You two have made my entire time in here worth it! I’m so excited, what about you? What do you feel, what do you feel?”
Rafaele drew in a deep breath. “Panic, mostly.” Slowly, Rafaele packed his instrument away. “Are you going to be okay here by yourself tonight?”
The mermaid swam about in energetic little circles. “Are you going after her? Go after her! Whisk her off her feet! Dance with her! Do all that stuff!”
He shot her a wary look. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
“Come back and tell me all about it, please? You must, you must!” She waved her arms in a shooing gesture.
He took up his instrument and sighed. “I’m not sure there’ll be much to tell, but I will return tomorrow, I promise you that.” He nodded in a farewell bow. “Please do take care of yourself in the meantime Atlanta.” And with that, he started off after his fellow musician.

Magritte hugged her instrument case, clutching it with white knuckles and biting down on the top of it. She wanted so badly to cry. She had intended to be vague enough in her wording, but once she started, her mouth ran off on her. She said too much, far too much, and he hadn’t liked that. She knew his expression of dread better than anyone, and he had worn it for her then. She should have taken the hint when he firmly expressed that he’d never felt in love with anyone, much less her.
She writhed so loudly within her own headspace that she failed to hear Rafaele’s hasty steps come up behind her. It wasn’t until he entered her peripheral vision that that flinched at his sudden company.
He leaned forward to get a better look at her face. “I think maybe we should talk.”
“I don’t think so.” Her response came fast enough to cut his off.
He pursed his lips. “I thought I was a brother to you, you do know that, right?”
“Yeah.” She sunk her face lower behind her viola case.
He lifted his brow. “You kind of blew that out of the water back there, you know that as well, right?”
She furrowed her brow, blinking away tears. “Yeah.” She stopped, dropping to a crouch and burying her face into her instrument case. “Leave me alone now Raf, It’s been a terrible evening. I’ve wounded myself and I just want to sit here until a pack of stray dogs arrive to finish me off.”
Rafaele watched her for a moment before cracking a slow smile. He knelt down in front of her. “Alright, I’ll leave you be then. But first I need to tell you something. Would you look at me for a second?”
“No.”
“Please?”
With a shaky sigh, she pulled her head up. Her eyes were red and flooded with tears that where wholly visible under the light of the moon. Rafaele would have felt guilty if it were not for what he did next. He shuffled closer to her before pushing the viola case down below her chin, allowing him to place his lips upon hers without obstruction.
She twitched at first before her posture loosened. She cautiously pushed her instrument aside before falling back off her heels. He followed after her, not letting their kiss break off so soon. That was when she knew it wasn’t some cruel trick he was playing on her, that he meant it enough to pursue it. She wrapped her arms around him, clutching at the clothes on his back.
He cupped his hands around her delicate jaw, his long fingers spilling over her neck and tangling themselves in her hair. He chased her down until they both laid upon the ground. She lifted her chin, pulling her lips away from him. “You’re an absolute scoundrel, do you know that? You waited until I was in tears!”
He laughed into her neck. “You convinced me that I was a sibling to you, when that was never the case. Do you know how off putting that is? You’d sneak into my bed at night under the guise of playful naivety, and I thought I was horrible for what it made me feel. Yet I’m the scoundrel?” He planted his hands onto the ground and hoisted himself up so that he could glare down on her from over a wry grin.
She writhed her fingers together over her chest with a guilty gaze up at him. “If you felt anything, then why didn’t you tell me?”
He held up a hand and positioned it as though he was going to strangle her, letting out a small growl from behind a grinning snarl. He dropped his head down, propping his brow atop of hers. “Magritte, I adore you. You had become my sun, stars and moon. If you needed me as a brother, as a best friend, then that’s exactly what I was going to be for you. What I felt never entered the picture, I was always just happy to be your favorite.”
“Hm, that’s noble enough I suppose.” She hugged him. “Alright, but can we still have the same relationship? All the teasing and casual insults and fake arguments for fun? I liked all that…”
“I’m afraid it’s all rather grim from here, my dear.” He replied solemnly. “There’s no place for that kind of silliness in a serious relationship.”
With a snorted laugh, she placed a palm squarely on his face, pushing him and his fake sobriety away. “Get off. I don’t like it on the ground, it’s dirty.”
Rafaele got up and pulled her up with him, dusting off her back with his sleeve as soon as she was solid on her feet. They both picked their instruments up before starting back towards the caravan together. With her mind sitting in a strange, euphoric limbo, Magritte allowed herself to lean into him, and he responded by putting an arm around her shoulder. She smiled. “Does this mean I’m allowed to sneak into bed with you again?”
Rafaele exhaled a short laugh. “Yes, I…suppose it does.”

Chapter 24

Rafaele woke up to a vision of dark, silky tresses. Drawing in a deep breath, he stretched the arm that had been draped over the warm body next to him before hugging her in closer. His nose buried itself into the hair blanketing her neck in soft, loose locks. He exhaled a content sigh.
The night’s passion was written by the clothing strewn across the ground, and in the manner of which the bed sheets wrapped around their ankles. Rafaele might have dismissed the entire evening as a strange dream if it he weren’t tangled up in the most damning piece of evidence. Magritte, her back to him, had woven her legs through his, while his arms crossed over her chest.
He wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about the whole thing. For the most part it was a rather blissful happenstance, but something nibbled at his conscious. Perhaps it was simply the inertia of moving into a new role so unexpectedly. The relationship between them would never quite be the same again, and that was both exciting and terrifying to him.
Under his arm, Magritte stirred. She stretched out her legs, splaying her toes under the bodily strain of an enormous yawn. After a small pause, she shuffled around to face him. Grinning up at him, she simply said. “Hi.”
He lifted his brow over a smirk of his own in response.
“Your breath is really bad in the morning,” she commented honestly.
Frowning, he turned to bury his face into the pillow. “That’s not very romantic at all.”
Magritte brought her hand over her mouth, huffing into it. “It’s okay; I’m pretty sure mine’s no better. We can stink together.”
Rafaele grabbed hold of the blankets before promptly pushing her off the bed with his feet. “Too late, mood’s ruined.”
She scrambled to her feet and swatted at his shoulder. “Scoundrel.”
He grabbed hold of her hand before she could withdraw it and pulled her down into a brief kiss. He turned her around and patted her from behind. “Go get dressed.”
She glared back at him before her face dissolved into a warm smile. He gazed after her as she ducked out of his view.
With effort, he dragged himself out of bed and made himself appropriate. He emerged into the main space of the small cabin, attempting in vain to tame his tousled locks with his fingers.
Liv was seated by herself, picking away at a muffin and scanning the newspaper. Without looking up, she cooed. “Good morning, Rafaele.”
“Good morning, Liv.” He replied, trying his best vocal impression of her as he reached in from behind her to steal a piece of her breakfast.
With a huff, she swatted him away, “Would you not do that? Just ask.” She broke off a generous piece of the muffin and handed it to him.
Appeased by her offering, he dropped himself onto the chair across from her.
She turned the paper over and took a small bite of muffin for herself. “So, by the sounds of it, you and Magritte have stepped up your relationship somewhat, hmm?”
Squinting, Rafaele subtly cocked his head to the side.
“Not that I mind, it’s a little late coming if you were to ask me. But I will remind you that this is a very small abode…” Finally, she glanced up at him over a troublesome smile.
Rafaele paled, raising his hands to his head. “Oh... Oh! Ahh, damn.” He stuffed the rest of the muffin half into his mouth and through it, he muttered. “No, I’m just…I’m just going to leave now.” He swallowed. “Probably forever.” He half crawled out the back of the caravan, burdened by a sudden onslaught of embarrassment.
“You two better be back in time for lunch,” Liv grinned slyly after him.

At the Allvar estate, Everett had finally returned home during the late hours of the night once all the fuss and officers had dissipated. He couldn’t dare speak with anyone; he had been far too hurt and angry to compose himself properly. Leopold had been his most loyal companion for years. The tiger was the only piece of family he had left, and he had been shot down like an animal.
He endured another restless night, knowing that his dear friend would not be around to greet him in the morning. He won himself only a few hours of sleep before resigning to his insomnia. The sun had begun peering over the horizon as he prepared himself a small breakfast. With his morning tea in hand, he soberly made his way to assess the state of his small collection house.
Once inside, he was pleasantly surprised. Nothing was strewn about; everything was in a respectable place. The glass of one display required replacing, but otherwise there was no sign of a robbery, and no sign of Leopold’s ill-fated confrontation. That lifted his spirits somewhat.
At the back of the room, Atlanta watched him from her aquarium. He turned his eyes up to her, approaching with ginger steps.
“How are you, my love? Did they frighten you? Are you alright?” He lifted his finger tips to caress the glass in front of her.
She simply floundered about. “The musicians told me I was safe here.”
Everett sighed. “Oh good, they visited after all. I’m glad.”
“But what if something happened? What if someone broke in again? If they wanted to, there’d be no place for me to hide. I’m trapped here, and I don’t like it.” She fidgeted.
Everett frowned at her. “Atlanta, no one is going to go through the trouble of getting through that glass.” He glanced at the ladder and promptly began folding it up. “Look, I’ll even put this away so no one can climb up there.” He moved the ladder aside. “You’re absolutely safe.”
She didn’t appear convinced. “Everett, I want to go home.”
He wrapped his hands around his tea cup and shook his head. “Why? I provide more for you here than you’ve ever gotten out there.”
“I miss my sisters, and I miss going where ever I wanted, and I miss fishes who know how to speak with me. I miss the gull, and the ships, and…”
Everett cut her off. “I give you music, and guests, and stories, and jewelry, and companions, I maintain your aquarium and, and provide my company. And this is your thanks? You’re homesick so you want to leave?” Frustration rose in his voice. “I’ve spoiled you! Your ungrateful selfishness is astounding, it really is!” He stared down into his teacup before turning on his heel. “I’ll leave you to think on it for a while, and consider why your behavior is hurtful to me.” He began making his way towards the exit.
Atlanta frowned and she said in a hushed voice, “I don’t love you, Everett.”
In a quick, single gesture, Everett spun around, and threw his cup to shatter against the glass of the aquarium, letting out a frustrated yell as he did so. Tea and ceramic shards rained onto the hardwood floor.
He jabbed a finger towards her and through clenched teeth he growled. “If that’s the way it’s going to be, then fine. I give you everything, and you think you’re suffering. That’s it, no more. I’ll see you rot in that aquarium.” He stormed towards the museum’s doors, and as he left he sneered at her. “I don’t love you either. Never more than I’d love an exotic, ornery fish, because that’s all you are.” The door slammed behind him, leaving Atlanta to sink under the dread of his implications.

Eager to see the mermaid and tell her about the news of their relationship, Magritte had convinced Rafaele to come with her and visit during the museum’s open hours. It was a losing battle until she pointed out that the place might still be closed to public due to the robbery. He agreed to check it out with her, but stipulated that he probably would not enter the collection if it was packed full of people. That was good enough for Magritte.
They brought their instruments along, despite neither of them intending on playing. Their instrument cases had simply come to resemble a free pass into the small, eclectic exhibition. Once they made it to Everett’s property, they were both pleased to see the Cabinet’s doors were closed.
With no one at the front of the museum to let them in, Rafaele and Magritte passed on by, to the front door of Everett’s house. Without hesitation, Rafaele lightly rapped on the door. There was a long pause and he was about to knock again when the door flew open and a pair of hands pulled the musician in by his vest. Rafaele found himself with his back slammed up against a wall.
Everett kept a tight grip on the musician’s shirt, breathing into his face. “What kind of slander did you fill that mermaid’s head with?” He hissed the words.
Rafaele winced and the thick scent of alcohol carried on the man’s heavy breath offended his senses. “Have you lost it? Are you drunk?”
“Let him go!” Magritte stomped a foot. “He didn’t do anything; we just want to play more music for Atlanta!”
Everett sneered at Rafaele for a moment longer, and with a slight stagger, he pulled the musician away from the wall and tossed him out the door. Unable to regain his balance on time, Rafaele fell back onto Magritte and the two of them toppled to the ground.
Everett pointed at them with an angry snarl. “Forget your music. Forget the mermaid. She’ll be lucky if she ever sees the light of day again. I’ll not have you put any more ideas into that damn carp’s miserable little mind. Do you hear me?” He took an unsteady step back, grabbing hold of the door. “If I see any one of you musicians on my property again, I’ll…I’ll gut you!” He slammed the door on them.
As he yelled at them, Rafaele got to his feet, helping Magritte up and dusting her off. Magritte stared at the door defiantly. “What in the world has gotten into that man?”
Rafaele pulled her away. “He’s gone mad.” He furrowed his brow, “Who gets piss drunk before lunch? And why on earth is he mad at us?”
The started away from the Allvar estate and Magritte stared at her feet, frowning. “He and Atlanta must have had a fight.” She bit at her knuckles. “Raf, he was really volatile, and Atlanta can’t go anywhere. She’s trapped in that stupid aquarium. If Everett decided to get violent, she wouldn’t be able to hide.”
He pulled her in under his arm and landed a heavy kiss onto her head. “She’s got a good few feet of water over her head; she’d drown him before he could do anything.” He sighed. “Even still, I find myself worried, too.”
She shrugged under the weight of his arm. “Do you think we could notify the police?”
“I doubt that would do much good,” he admitted. “We could talk about it with the others. Maybe they’d have some ideas as to what can be done.” He smiled down at her. “Let’s make it a goal to have her back in the ocean before we leave for London.”
Magritte’s lips peeled back slowly to mirror his expression. “Yes, alright!”

After a quick lunch out, the two musicians promptly returned to their home caravan. Once inside, Magritte barely waited a second before blurting out the events of their trip. She explained Everett’s behavior to the other three musicians and the consequential concern for the mermaid’s wellbeing.
She capped her retelling off by exhaling the words, “We want to set her free!”
“Well, really…” Rafaele scrambled to correct her. “We were just wondering if you guys knew of a way we could approach the police about this…or if there was anything we could do for her.”
Bosco pursed his lips with a slow shake of his head. “Sorry son, you might be out of luck. I don’t think there’s anything the police could do.”
Rafaele turned up his palms. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I was hoping to hear that I was mistaken.”
Magritte wilted where she stood. “So we just leave her, then? She begged us to take her back to the ocean. She doesn’t want to be there.”
“And it’s none of our business,” Bosco pointed. “We shouldn’t stick our noses where they don’t belong.”
Liv, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during Magritte’s dramatic recollection of the events, held up her hand to silence the older man. “On the other hand, we very well could.” She sat back and tapped her lips pensively. “I’ve been on the fence with this whole mermaid aquarium thing since the day we saw her. At least I thought I was, but I’m going to admit right now that I’m with you two. It’s not right.” Staring up at the ceiling she rubbed her brow. “My personal vendetta against men like Everett is going to get me in trouble someday. I’ve accepted this. Atlanta may be an uncanny looking fish woman, whose appearance, to be perfectly honest, gives me the creeps. However, she is very undoubtedly a woman, and she wants to go home.”
“Liv…” Bosco cautioned.
She cut him off again, tilting her head at him aggressively. “I take a great deal of offense to any scoundrel who thinks he’s right to enslave a woman. I’m not apologetic about this. I don’t care about rights, or lack thereof. I don’t care about status or money. I don’t care if she’s half sea slug. She lives, she breathes, she thinks, and she speaks. I am sick and tired of men holding the keys to our cages--in Atlanta’s case, quite literally.” Liv worked herself up and her voice rose with her excitement. She made a gesture that resembled pulling out her hair. “It’s a level of entitlement beyond morals; it’s just so baffling to me.” She stood up and jabbed a finger at Rafaele. “We will put her back in the ocean as only we would.”
Rafaele’s face fell into a deep frown, “How are we going to do that?”
She glared at him with an air of conviction. “Ask a neighbour if they have a tub we can borrow.”

Chapter 25

A knock on a small rickety caravan door summoned the company of Pierre the dentist. He opened the door, grinning at the sight of the two young musicians. “Rafaele, Magritte! Good evening!”
The corners of Rafaele’s mouth twitched upward in a fleeting smile at the man’s jovial spirits. “Pierre, we have a favor to ask. Specifically, we were wondering if you could lend us a tub. Something large enough to fill with water and fit a Magritte-sized person in.”
His brow rose at the peculiar request, and Pierre leaned over to get a better look at the girl. “Magritte-sized, but not Magritte herself?”
Rafaele turned his gaze down to her and she provided a definitive nod. In a hushed voice, she informed, “We’re going to rescue a mermaid.”
The dentist squinted at the two musicians, “You mean Mr. Allvar’s mermaid?”
“We mean Atlanta,” Magritte corrected.
Pierre nodded, “Yes, good. Well, I’ll admit I did not feel well about such a human looking creature being captive in such a small space. I even wondered myself if I should do something, but, ah—feared repercussions.” He lowered his head, and with it, his voice, “And there are repercussions. Don’t you go off trumpeting about your heroic plan to any others, you hear? I think I have a vessel that fits your description, wait here a moment.”
The dentist disappeared into the back of his caravan for a moment before returning with a tub small enough to carry so long as it housed nothing inside it. The two musicians moved aside as he placed it on the ground next to them.
Pierre wiped his brow with a sleeve. “This should do the trick. Don’t fill it with water from the pump, though. You are going to have to fill it with water from the channel, or it won’t do her any good. This is important, hear?” The two musicians nodded, and he continued. “Also, don’t get caught. I’m happy to lend a hand, but if you two find yourself in trouble, and the law comes to me about it, I will deny knowing anything about any of this. Don’t accept this vessel unless you also accept those terms, grave as they are. This kind of run-in with the law would devastate my business, and I simply cannot afford it.”
Rafaele sighed, “If it comes down to that, I’d rather not drag more people down than need be. No good would come of having you profess that you support the idea, anyways.” He smirked, “We should make quick work of it, and be out of town well before sunrise, anyways.”
“Well, here’s hoping your plan is as sound as you are confident.” Pierre nodded. “I won’t need the tub back. If your efforts are successful, I’ll just be pleased enough to have contributed in a significant way. I don’t want to be left holding any evidence.”
Rafaele picked the vessel up, and Magritte dipped her head into a thankful bow. “We’ll make sure your donation won’t go to the effort in vain. Thank you so much Pierre.” She thought about leaving him with that, as Rafaele had already begun to trek back to their own caravan, but she delayed to provide their friend with a parting hug. “I hope we cross paths again, Pierre.”
He returned the embrace. “As do I, little Sparrow. Go now, and good luck!”

With a sizable tub acquired, the quartet’s caravan was soon on the move. Taking the dentist’s advice, they stopped by the channel’s shores to fill the vessel with buckets of sea water. On their way to Everett’s estate, Liv briefed Rafael over how they were going to approach the rescue of the mermaid inside The Cabinet.
After a lengthy explanation, involving a great deal of gesturing Liv concluded, “The plan is sloppy, I’ll admit. But I think it can be pulled off.” She sat back and waited to hear Rafaele’s response.
He wore a frown. “Basically, I crawl through the windows, shatter the aquarium glass…” He shut his eyes and shook his head, “Grab Atlanta, we dump her into the ocean and scramble out of England ‘like it’s nothing’?”
Liv pursed her lips and turned up her palms.
He dropped his head down onto the table top. “This sounds like a very convoluted way to remove me from the troupe.” He lifted his head just enough to turn his eyes up to her. “You could have just, I don’t know… told me you don’t like me or something instead.”
The older woman rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, man up. I fully expect you to return to the caravan. We’ve pulled stunts like this before, we can do it again.”
Rafaele squinted at her, “No we haven’t.”
She frowned, “Right that was before you joined us…”
“What?”
“Never mind,” She chided. “Look alive, curtain’s opening, and your part’s coming up. Mask on, be confident, perform well.”
The caravan slowed to a halt, and Magritte handed Rafaele a hatchet. “You’re going to need this. For the glass of the aquarium, I mean.”
He took up the dubious weapon, and looked at it with uncertainty. “I’m actually having a lot of second thoughts about this…”
Liv fastened the signature, long-beaked mask to his face, “You’re a spry lad. You’ll do fine.”
Before he could get another word in, Rafaele found himself half shoved out the back of the caravan, and into the darkness of Dover’s back streets. For once, his mask failed to provide him any sense of security or confidence. He took his first careful, steady steps onto Everett’s properly and cast a weary glance up to the man’s house. It appeared that not a single room was lit, and every glass pane of every window was as dark at the midnight’s sky. The silence seemed to reverberate his tenseness as he quietly made his way around to the front of small museum.
Wood boards served as placeholders to fill the window frames of the small building. Rafaele glanced around nervously, dreading to produce so much as a whisper. He thought about returning to the caravan empty handed, and was about to do exactly that until his thoughts turned to Atlanta and her pleas for him to help her return to her home, where her sisters waited for her. He stood frozen in an internal struggle for a long moment before turning to properly face the boarded windows. He gripped the handle of the hatchet with both hands and taking a deep breath he raised the heavy blade, bringing it down onto the wooden barrier with as much for as he could muster. The sound of the hatchet’s strikes rang out into the silent air, and the planks of wood gave in for him after just three quick strikes.
With a sense of urgency, Rafaele pulled himself up, though the gap and into the museum. Visibility was even lower inside than it was outside, and the musician’s first course of action was to unlock and open the front door. Without any further delay, he made hasty strides towards the back of the space, where the aquarium was situated.
“Atlanta,” he whispered, “It’s Rafaele. I’m getting you out of here.”
“Oh!” Atlanta’s voice chimed in his mind, clear as crystal. “I thought I would never see you again! I thought I’d never see anyone again! I’m so—” She stopped. “Wait, how are you going to get me out?” Her voice seemed to shrink. “Everett took the ladder away.”
Rafaele was close enough now that he could see her. He held up the hatchet, “Move clear, there’s no time.”
“Are you scared?” She brought her face as close to his as she could.
“Terrified,” He admitted. “We’ll all be in a lot of trouble if we get caught, and so you have to move.”
She did so obediently, and as he brandished the hatchet, she began to hum for him. The axe’s blade smashed into the glass again and again. As the mermaid sang, his fear seemed to diminish, and his nerves calmed. His swing became steadier, and his brow knit with a growing determination to break through the glass barrier between him and the mermaid. Her song called him to her.
Finally, the glass broke to form a small hole, and one last well placed swing of the hatchet shattered the entire thing. In a last second gesture, Atlanta took in a large gulp of water before the sudden current pulled her out of the aquarium and sent her out into the museum with a torrent of water.
The sudden outpour knocked Rafaele back, forcing him to release the hatchet and slide across the flooded floorboards. Instinctively, he reached out for Atlanta and she plummeted past him. He managed to grasp her sleek, scaley arm and as the water drained out the front entrance, he scrambled to regain his footing. He was soaked to the bone, and his mask had fallen off his face to hang around his neck. Coughing and sputtering after an unexpected mouthful of salt water, he fumbled to pick up the mermaid’s heavy, slippery body. Against all her instincts, Atlanta fought to keep very still as she was hoisted up off the ground. She put her arms around his neck to help him with the burden, and the two clumsily made their way out of the building.
The musician glanced up at Everett’s house, his heart dropping at the sight of lights flickering behind the windows. “We have to move quickly!”
Atlanta held on the best she could as Rafaele sprinted towards the caravan in heavy strides. As he approached it, Magritte, Liv, and Travis all reached out to take Atlanta off his hands and place her into the vessel that was prepared for her. As Rafaele pulled himself in behind her, Liv shouted a command at Bosco to get moving. There was no delay. The caravan moved as fast as it could, causing furniture and items to fall about the cabin, and water to splash from the filled tub.
Atlanta sunk into the vessle of water as far as she could to submerge her gills. She leaned her head back and stared up at her rescuers. They all crowded around her with concern.
Magritte piped up first. “Are you okay? We’re taking you to a quiet dock we found, you’re going back into the ocean!”
The mermaid glanced back to Rafaele who nodded. She frowned. “Will we ever see each other again?”
“God, I hope not,” Rafaele exhaled with a smile. “We’re putting you back into the ocean, and this time, we’d very much like it if you stayed there.”
She grew more upset. “Will you miss me?”
“Like a dear friend.” Rafaele sat down so that he could meet her eyelevel. “Magritte and I adore you, we’d very much like being able to see you again, but the circumstances that would allow it could never be fair to you.”
She turned her wide eyed stare back to Magritte who only provided a heavy hearted sigh. The mermaid fidgeted with her own fingers. “Is… this love?”
“Yes,” Magritte replied, a small lump forming in her throat. “It really is.”
The mermaid’s face dissolved into a wide smile, and the caravan came to a halt. Liv turned to nod at Rafaele. “Last stop for the evening, Raf. Time to let our lovely guest free. Be quick about it, alright?”
He waited for Atlanta to hold her breath before he carefully scooped her out of the tub. As he descended out the back of the caravan, Magritte got in one last word of farewell. With due haste, the musician carried the mermaid to the end of the small, familiar wooden dock—the very same dock Everett plucked her from. Sitting on a post at the end of it was an ornery seagull, and with a pleased smile, the Atlanta waved to her.
From behind his mask, Rafaele followed her gaze to the sea bird. “Is that a friend of yours?”
Atlanta nodded, “I missed her!”
At the end of the dock, Rafaele knelt down and carefully lowered the mermaid into the water. “Well, this is it. I can’t believe it worked. You’re free now.”
Released from his grasp, the mermaid sank so that only the top half of her face remained above the water. “I’ll remember this, you know. I’ll never forget it!”
“Likewise,” Rafaele assured. “It’ll make a great story. Get out of here, now. I don’t ever want to find you on shore again.”
With a gleeful laugh, the mermaid spat a playful stream of water before slinking backwards beneath the water’s surface. The musician stared after her for a moment longer before he heard Magritte call his name from the shore.
As he turned to face her direction, the motion was stopped short as a sudden strike to his face knocked him on his back. His vision flooded with tears in reaction to the searing pain of his nose having crumpled under the impact. Two hands aggressively gripped the front of his shirt, pulling Rafaele up to shake him. He tried to blink the tears away, but it was the voice that gave away the identity of his aggressor.
“You little shit.” The throaty words were half growled, but there was no mistaking. The voice was Everett’s. “You take advantage of my charitable nature, and you break into my property. I should have known, I should have known. You killed my tiger! You stole my prized possession! You would leave me with nothing!” Through all this, he shook Rafaele violently.
The musician stuttered, “N-no, I—we didn’t, Leopold wasn’t—!”
“I don’t want to hear it!” The enraged man cried as he dragged Rafaele over the dock to submerge the musician’s head into the cold, salty water.
Rafaele let out a surprised yelp which was quickly muffled ocean waves. With no breath to hold onto, Rafaele blindly struggled to have Everett release his grip. His efforts grew more frantic as precious seconds passed.
Through clenched teeth, Everett snarled, “You wished I called the police this time, don’t you? You wished I would stand by as the let you off the hook again.”
Magritte hurried down the dock as fast as she could, and Bosco followed well behind her. She wailed after assailant. “Stop, Everett, stop!” She grabbed hold of his shirt, trying to wrestle the man off Rafaele. In one last frantic effort, she put all her weight into pushing Everett sideways over the dock, into the water. It worked, as his knees slipped out from under him, and he released his grip on the musician before plummeting into the channel.
The younger girl pulled Rafaele up without hesitation, and he sat coughing and sputtering in between deep, painful gasps of air. She hovered over him, rubbing his back. “Are you alright?”
“Mortified,” he wheezed, wide-eyed. He’d always had a great fear of sea travel and drowning, but that was the closest he’d ever gotten to having it happen. He glanced down the dock at Bosco, who stood quietly in place, watching Everett flail about in the channel. Both Magritte and Rafaele followed his gaze to behold Everett’s enraged water treading.
“I’ll put a manhunt out for the lot of you!” He yelled at them in between gulps of water. “I’ll put a price on your heads; you won’t be able to set foot into England again! Not so long as I live!”
As Everett hollered his threats, Magritte helped Rafaele to his feet before he pulled her into a strong hug.
“Everett…” The mermaid’s voice rang through everyone’s mind, clear and seductive. “Everett, I’m so happy you’ve followed me here! I can show you my world now. I can take you around the globe to see the most wondrous things you’ve never even dreamed of. Everett…”
The color drained from Everett’s face as he immediately began to paddle himself towards the docks. He didn’t make it far before the mermaid’s hands emerged from beneath the water’s surface to wrap themselves over Everett’s shoulders. Her head followed, to rest against his. His eyes were wide enough that Magritte and Rafaele could see the whites of them from where they stood.
In a voice that only her would-be lover could hear, she whispered, “Lets go for a swim.”
He had no time to cry in protest. With one kick of her powerful tail, Atlanta dragged Everett beneath the waves of the English Channel. Magritte and Rafaele with an arm around one another stared in her wake. It was the last they ever saw of Everett and the mermaid.




And so fair ladies and gentle men, that concludes our tale about love and about obsession; a tale about a man who tricked a maiden of the sea into believing he presented his heart to her …and never lived to tell it.
Fair ladies and gentle men, there ends the tale, my tale of The Mermaid and the Cabinet.