Tall, Dark, and Wriggly

115 Pages·2014·0.3 MB·english

by  Jernigan

11502 Addison Chase Dr
Riverview, FL 33579
Publisher's Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher has no control over and does not assume responsibility for any third party websites or
their content. The uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means
without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.
Copyright © 2014 by Storm Moon Press LLC
"A Bargain" copyright © 2014 by D.K. Jernigan. "Chained to the Wheel" copyright © 2014 by
Angelia Sparrow. "A Home Among the Stars" copyright © 2014 by Gryvon. "Deadline" copyright ©
2014 by Peter Hansen.
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Kohaku
ISBN-13: 978-1-62757-006-0
ISBN-10: 1-62757-006-3
A Bargain
D.K. Jernigan
Chained to the Wheel
Angelia Sparrow
A Home Among the Stars
Gryvon
Deadline
Peter Hansen
About the Authors

The first time Julian ever saw the sea-man was on the day the fleet left him behind. He'd run out to
the end of the docks, already knowing he was far too late, and stood there, fists clenching and
unclenching. He had struggled not to spill a single tear as he watched the sails billow full and carry
the fishing fleet away like a flock of gulls.
He'd turned listlessly to begin the shameful walk back into the village when some strange bit of
movement had caught at the corner of his eye, and he'd turned toward the stone breakwater to see a
shirtless man wading casually through the water. Wading where the sea floor was at least twenty feet
down. Julian had raised a hand to shield his eyes, and just as the man's motions had drawn his
attention, Julian's gesture made the man turn toward him. The man, unfamiliar, stilled for a moment
before diving beneath the gentle waves.
For a moment, Julian had stood entranced, thinking that he must be swimming toward the dock, but
the sun had glinted off of the clear, unbroken stretch of sea for too long, and Julian had realized with a
chill that he'd witnessed a visitation from something... unnatural.
Nonetheless, the creature had been beautiful, the sun glistening wetly across the type of muscles
that Julian would never know on his own body. And though Julian had known that he should return to
his home and begin to plan his strategy to prove himself, it had been an hour or more of hopeful
waiting before he'd been able to pry himself away from the harbor.
The next day, he was up early to mend the tears in his father's second net, hoping to earn his way
back onto his father's ship. It wasn't his fault he was spindly or that no amount of work seemed to
build up his frame, but there were other skills he could exercise, and he was talented at finding the
places where the fish were thick in the water. He was blamed, nevertheless, for his inability to haul
his fair share of the nets. Or to drag his brother Paul back aboard during the frantic tossing of a
midsummer storm.
After Paul's death, their father had grown rougher, like a man whose whole life had been
swallowed by the sea, and never mind that he still had one son left. Far from comforting him, Julian's
presence only seemed to enrage the man. "You're like a fucking daughter with balls," his father had
complained. "Useless! Pathetic! Who'll want you? None of the women in this village, my lad, and
certainly not me! Best learn to knit and mend, since you're useless for all else. Or better yet, head
inland and learn to scratch in the muck with the grubbers and growers."
Julian's mother had stood by, unmoved and unmoving, as his father had tossed him into the
smokehouse and barred the door to keep him from following the fleet. She, too, had been worn down
by what the sea had taken from them, and she, too, found little consolation in Julian's presence.
His father hardly looked at him as he used a hunk of bread to scoop the thin, fishy stew into his
mouth that morning. "Does this mean you've learned your lesson, squid, or do I have to lock you away
again for your own good and ours?"
Julian felt the hot burn of tears behind his eyes, but he was a master of self-control—perhaps the
only area in which he would ever be strong. He kept his head bent humbly over the net, where he was
almost finished closing the rip. "I won't follow unless you say," he said, "but I hope you'll
reconsider."
"What," his father scoffed, "and risk losing more valuable members of my crew to your
incompetence? Let your mother teach you to ply the wheel." He gestured almost violently toward
where Julian's mother sat spinning, and then he turned, his hard, callused feet slapping the boards of
their home as he retreated. Off to do a man's duty while Julian was left adrift with the women and
children.
Shame burned through him, and his mother turned her face away, her hands never stilling on the
wool roving as she, too, rejected the weakest of her sons. "Better if I had died instead of Paul?" he
asked in a quiet, hurt tone. She flinched, but she also didn't contradict him.
He stubbornly finished the final knots before he stood, took a deep breath, and walked out of the
house. He was nimble and quick; perhaps Old Faggin would take him on as a sort of apprentice
shepherd. Surely the man's one grandson wasn't enough for all the work that needed doing?
But even as he thought about life among the hills and crags, his heart cracked. Weak and useless as
he might be aboard ship, the sea was in his blood. Maybe it would be better to throw himself into the
harbor and let himself die than to kill his spirit by inches as he tried to turn himself into a herder or a
grubber.
His steps were slow and heavy as he walked out onto the breakwater, his bare feet finding careful
footing among the slippery piles of wet rocks. His heart was heavy—wounded and bleeding—and
there was only one way, one place, where he could hope to find solace. So he moved out to where the
water was deep and mysterious, and sat on a rock just above the waterline, letting his feet soak in the
cool embrace of the sea.
He could never catch enough fish from the dock to make any of the fishermen think twice about
taking him on, especially since his brother's death and the rumors that he was cursed. He scoffed at
the stupid idea, but it was hard to dismiss entirely, especially for a man who made his living by the
grace of the mighty, pernicious, mercurial lady of the waters. He touched the silver hoop in his left
ear, which had been stabbed into place nearly a decade ago to bless his sight on the waters. He was
taller, now, but his limbs were nearly as thin and delicate as they had been as a child; why should he
not believe that something had laid a malign hand on him along the way?
Cursed or not, he'd die if he was forever denied the shifting deck and salt spray.
He picked up a heavy chunk of shell, probably tossed onto the breakwater by an angry wave, and
gripped it until the edge bit through calluses and drew blood. "It should have been me who died!" he
yelled, and he threw the shell with all the force he could muster.
Not twenty feet out, a form rose from the waves, intercepting the shell in mid-flight. The same
strange man-creature that he'd seen from the dock had emerged right in front of him, and had caught
the chunk of shell. He studied it, noting the smear of blood along the edge, while Julian studied him,
too stunned to speak.
"Instead of who?" the creature asked.
His voice was as rich and deep as the sea, and Julian felt a slow shudder start at the back of his
neck and travel slowly down his spine. "What?"
"You said you should have been the one who died. Instead of who?" The man leaned back in the
water and seemed to recline, though there was no way he was standing or leaning against anything this
far out.
Julian struggled to make out the man's lower body, wondering if he would find the tail of a fish, or
perhaps the back end of a seal, but the water obscured the sight. His mind debated whether he should
answer the creature, but his mouth was ahead of him. "My brother. He drowned in a storm."
Instead of offering sympathy, the thing before him laughed, and Julian stiffened. "The sea is not
known for her willingness to bargain or trade, land-man." He glanced down at the shell he still held,
and then lowered it beneath the surface of the water and out of sight. "Not even when you offer her a
little taste of bloody enticement. More likely she'd just take you as well, you know."
"I wasn't trying to—I was just thinking, is all. Just... I've lost my place on the boat. My heritage; my
inheritance. I've lost everything." And now I've lost my mind, talking to a—to a sea-man.
"What? All because your brother took the long swim?" the man asked, a low chuckle rumbling
through his words.
"Feel free to stop being a bastard at any time," Julian said, standing. If he wasn't already cursed,
surely he would be if he continued speaking with this unnatural creature. It was time he returned home
to make his plans; if he didn't come up with something soon, his father would kick him out before
long; there was no reason to keep a useless son to eat your food and shame your boat.
He nearly slipped when the creature splashed beneath the surface of the water, startling him. The
sea-man reappeared nearly at Julian's feet a moment later, faster than any human could ever have
sliced through the water. As if he needed further evidence that the thing before him was anything but
human.
"And what would you find more helpful, pretty man?"
Pretty... what? "The treasures lost to the sea?" Julian scoffed sarcastically.
"Things like this?" the sea-man lifted his palm to show a small circle of gold—a ring, heavy and
ornamental.
It stopped Julian in his tracks. "How did you get that?"
"As you said, lost treasures." He held the ring aloft, still well out of Julian's easy reach, but
tantalizingly near. With that much gold, Julian might be able to afford his own boat; surely the offer of
something so fine and valuable would secure his place on his father's. But what sort of devil's bargain
was the creature hoping to strike in exchange?
Indeed, now that he tore his eyes away from the glittering circle, there was a certain sly look on the
sea-man's face. He'd have to be a fool to play along; it was as good as death to match wits with a
creature from another world. And yet the promise of redemption beckoned...
"What do you want for that trinket?" he asked, praying that the creature hadn't noticed the way his
eyes had lingered avariciously on it.
The sea-man's smile widened, and Julian found a small part of him quietly, secretly thrilled to have
pleased him. He clenched one fist behind his back; admitting that thrill was too dangerous, even in the
silence of his own mind.
"Oh, this little thing?" the sea-man teased, holding the ring aloft. "Perhaps... a kiss." He tilted his
palm and the ring dropped heavily into the water, vanishing with a plop. "If you're brave enough to
claim it."
The ring was raised out of the water again, but this time it was no hand holding the tiny treasure.
The band encircled the very tip of a tentacle, red and fleshy and wet. Julian's heart stuttered in horror
at the sight as he remembered tales of leviathan monsters with massive tentacles that could rip a ship
into matchwood.
The tentacle lifted higher and another that Julian had not noticed before slapped the water behind
the sea-man with a startling crack. "I thought as much," he said, letting out a cynical laugh. He started
to sink beneath the surface, and Julian's heart jumped from frozen terror to dancing like a landed fish
in his chest.
"No, wait!"
The sea-man waited, half his chest submerged, eyes narrowed at Julian in a sort of disappointed
distaste.
"You just startled me, is all. One kiss. For the one ring. That's the deal, yeah? And you swear you're
not planning to drown me?"
"You're not much fun dead," the sea-man sneered, but he was softening. He had risen a couple of
inches back out of the water, and Julian could see one of the tentacles just beneath the surface of the
water. It twined about itself in an endless, shifting knot, much like his mother wringing her hands on a
stormy afternoon when the boats were delayed and the waves were high.
"Then we have an accord," Julian said, extending his hand to shake.
Instead of reaching for it, the sea-man lifted one thick red tentacle and slid it across the back of
Julian's hand, and then up his arm. He held still, afraid that any movement at all might offend the
creature once again and cost him his chance. The tentacle was not slimy as Julian had expected,
though of course it was wet. Instead, it slid softly against his skin, with progressively larger disks
along the undersides sucking gently on his arm before moving on, as if the creature was tasting him.
And when Julian looked back at the sea-man, he did appear to be enjoying some sensual
experience. His eyes were shut and his head rocked back, mouth open in apparent rapture as he
inched his way up Julian's arm. The sight sent a shock through Julian, leaving his cock feeling heavy
between his legs as his eyes feasted on the sight of the naked stretch of the man's exposed throat. He
wanted to press his lips there, to send his finger's dancing gently across the other man's nipples,
which were as pebble-hard as Julian's own had grown to be.
The soft, fleshy slide of the tentacle reached his shoulder, and Julian began to worry once again
about what this strange beast intended. He shuddered as much in fear as in unexpected arousal as the
tip curled around the back of his neck and teased at the edge of his hairline. Then the tentacle was
wrapped firmly around his shoulders, and the little suctioning disks fastened themselves to his skin.
The sea-man looked straight at Julian and opened up his arms, and Julian found himself pulled
unceremoniously into the sea.
Julian cried out and braced himself for the cold wash of water closing over his head, but the
strange arm held him above the water, merely dragging him into the sea-man's open arms. Two human
arms wrapped around him, but so did more of the tentacles, twining all around his body both above
and below the water. Again he feared drowning, but the sea-man seemed secure in his buoyancy as he
closed his mouth over Julian's.
Far from the clamminess he had expected, the sea-man's lips were hot and full, and his tongue, as it
teased across Julian's lips and slid into his mouth, reminded him not-unpleasantly of the way the
tentacles moved and slid over his body. One of them found the hem of his trousers and began to creep
up the inside of his leg, and though his cock stood to full readiness, Julian panicked. He wrenched
back from the kiss, producing a look of dismay on the face of the sea-man.
"A kiss! A kiss is all I've promised, and a kiss is what I've delivered," he gasped. It was only now
that he realized that his own arms had twined about the other man's neck just as eagerly as the
tentacles had twined about his body, and he released them with a startled jerk.
"A bargain made and a bargain fulfilled," the sea-man said sourly. He reached down and plucked
the ring from the tentacle-tip and held it up for Julian, who was still being supported by the rest of the
sea-man's many arms. "Take it."
Julian's hand closed on the ring, but something in his heart was pulling at him as well, and an idea
formed in his mind. Foolish greed, or even more foolish lust? Either way, he knew it was a mistake
when he said, "Bring me another, and let's strike our bargain again."
A flicker of something passed across the creature's face, but his expression was wary when he
said, "Perhaps. But beware, for the price may be beyond your means."
Julian's cock throbbed painfully, and he was glad that he was no longer pressed so hard against the
creature that he could not help but feel. "Or perhaps not," he said.
The sea-man studied him for a moment, and then sniffed. "Return in one week's time, and call for
Kith, and we shall see if you can pay my price. But keep my secret, human boy, or my face will be the
last you see."
With that he pushed Julian away and twisted, vanishing beneath the surface as Julian gasped and
clawed at the water, flailing for a moment before his fingers slammed into a stone from the
breakwater and he was able to pull himself to safety. His other hand was clutched securely against his
chest, fingers wrapped around the precious gold.
He allowed himself only a couple of moments of gasping relief at his fortune before he hurried
back to the village to fetch a hook and line. He had plans to concoct...
By the time the boats returned that evening trailing their screaming flock of seagulls, Julian had
caught, gutted, and cleaned half a dozen respectable fish, and had strung them up outside the house
like a banner. He guarded them from the greedy birds as he waited, splicing rope and whittling to
pass the time.
He waited by his catch while the fishwives hurried to the docks to help clean and transport the
catch, some of it to be packed in salt, and some to be hung up in smokehouses all across the village.
One tired trader waited beside his wagon to buy a basket of fish from each boat in the fleet. He was
just vanishing up the road toward the grubber city and its morning market when his father came
striding up the path to the house, exhausted but well pleased with himself, Julian's mother trailing
after with a heavy basket of fish on her shoulder.
"You think that sad little catch will please me, boy, when my nets were full and the seas calm
today?"
"Maybe not," he said, "but I've got something that will change your mind."
"Doubtful." His father paused on the stoop to let his wife in ahead of him, and turned to give Julian
the full force of his sailor's scowl. "Take your paltry fishes to the city and sell them there. You're not
welcome here."
The words were like barbs in his heart, but Julian stood steady as he pulled the ring from his
pocket and held it out in his open palm. The fading rays of the setting sun caught on the metal, making
it gleam and flash, and Julian saw the reflected glint in his father's eye as the man snatched the ring
from his unresisting palm.
"We'll call it even, then, for twenty years room and board for a worthless cur of a son." Something
seemed to catch at his mind and he hesitated, opening his own hand to examine the ring more closely.
"This is heavy gold, boy. Where did you get it?"
He took a deep breath and called up the story he'd rehearsed as he sat whittling. "I went to throw
myself off the breakwater in despair," he said, "but a mermaid heard my shout of despair and came to
see what manner of beast could make such a wretched noise." He'd hoped for sympathy, there, but his
father's face remained skeptical and impassive. He continued, "I told her my sorry tale and asked if
she could grant me a true sailor's body so I might win your approval once again. She said she hadn't
that sort of power, but she promised me good luck. She blessed my hands so that I might have
unearthly luck in my catches, and then she bade me fetch a hook and line. I caught these six fishes that
you see here before you, and as I gutted the sixth, there among the viscera was the gleam of gold. The
fish must have swallowed it, and the mermaid sent him to me in compassion. I think, perhaps, that she
means to send more..."
The skepticism had faded slightly during the course of his tale, for Julian had been careful to
include those small, gleaming pearls of truth to give shape to the lie. His father rubbed his chin