They Left the Floor Wet on Purpose

Chelle found it in the morning.

Not the water — the water had receded by midnight, slow and deliberate, the way it had come. Not the tees — they were in the Closet, settled, the doors slightly more open than usual but otherwise behaving. What she found was a single shell on the counter. Small. Pale. The kind of spiral that takes decades to form in the deep, where the pressure is constant and the dark is absolute. It had not been there the night before. She was certain of that.

She picked it up. It was still cold. Still faintly damp. It smelled of salt and something older than salt — the particular depth-smell of a place where the light has never reached and the creatures that live there have never needed it to.

Luna appeared in the doorway, boots already on, coffee in hand, and looked at the shell in Chelle's palm.

"They left that," Luna said. Not a question.

"Yes."

"On purpose."

Chelle turned it over. The spiral was perfect. Mathematically perfect, the way things from the deep tend to be — formed by pressure and time and the particular patience of creatures who have nowhere to be and all the ocean to be it in. "Yes," she said again.

Luna drank her coffee. Looked at the Closet doors, open their usual impossible amount. Looked at the floor, which was dry now but had the particular quality of a floor that had recently been very wet and remembered it. Cinder was already sitting by the counter, which meant he had assessed the shell and found it acceptable. Ash was nowhere visible, which meant she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, which was fine.

The Siren's Call — 3D Mermaid & Ocean Print Tee was in the Closet. Had been since the night before. The 3D print — a mermaid whose tail moves through the fabric, deep indigoes into electric teals, the white foam of a breaking wave at its peak — was visible through the gap in the doors, the colors catching the morning light and throwing it back differently than anything else on the shelves.

Chelle set the shell on the shelf behind the counter. Not hidden. Not displayed. Just placed, the way you place something you intend to keep.

From the rooftop, Midnight made no sound. But he had been watching the counter since before Chelle came downstairs. She knew this the way she knew most things about Midnight — not because he told her, but because some things don't need to be said between a dragon and the person he has chosen.

The mermaids' world is underwater. The portal doesn't change that. They can come here. The girls cannot go there. This is simply the shape of the relationship, and the shell on the shelf is the mermaids' way of saying they understand it too — and that they'll be back.

The floor was dry by morning. The shell was not.

More from the Siren's Call series: The Night the Mermaids Found the Attic — the first visit. | The Ones Who Came Back — they've been returning ever since. | The Siren's Song Captured in Silk and Salt — the night the tide came in uninvited.

What will you find?: Siren's Call — 3D Mermaid & Ocean Print Tee