When he kissed her mouth, the taste of her lingered on his lips. It was bittersweet, and he felt it bleed through his veins long after the dark-skinned mermaid had left him at shore’s edge. Only the wail of the gulls remained to accentuate the ocean’s thunder, and perhaps the faintest strum of a mandolin that tickled the corner of his mind. He watched until her tailfins disappeared within the foam, and then he turned and trudged up the winding stone steps chiseled into the cliff face. When he reached the door of the lighthouse, his fingers hesitated before tracing the yawning bronze sea-serpent’s mouth that was the knocker.
The knocker’s mouth snarled. The man snatched back his hand, black eyes wide. You knew the rule, the serpent hissed, and the bronze tongue flicked left and right. No dealings with the inhuman. You will find no further sanctuary within these stone walls.
True enough. Try as he might to open the door, his hand would have to come into contact with the knocker or the bronze clawed pommel of the handle—neither of which appeared welcoming at the moment. He crumpled to the ground, the hissing of the knocker and the waves merging, and tried to banish the memories of mermaids.
The sun began to set, staining the sea dark blood-red. The hour approached when the gaslights within the lighthouse ran out of fuel, one thing he could not allow—in all his years since he’d sworn the oath to protect the lighthouse and keep the fires burning evermore, he had never slacked, no matter that creature’s disposition at the door.
At first he considered scaling the lighthouse walls. He lugged boulders from the shore, and propped them against the stone, tying the loosest ones with tough strings of kelp. A sorry ladder. As the sun’s chin drooped into the watery horizon, he felt the liquid smear across his own face when he pushed back his shaggy hair. Blood spurted from fingertips scrubbed raw from scrabbling at stone and seaweed.
There was no other way, then. He climbed back up the only steps and approached the only door. Almost upon it, and the sleeping knocker revived. It spat what he interpreted as an inhuman curse in his general direction, the bronze tongue flapping like a tiny red flag in the dying rays.
His hand gripped the knob and pulled. For the first time he felt it writhe beneath his fingers as it fought back. The metallic claws bit deep into his palm, and his eyes smarted. With a grunt and a final heave, he forced the door open, panting in the face of sudden darkness. His eyes adjusted and discerned the stone steps twisting up around the interior of the cylindrical building. The man glanced at the knocker, silent and motionless now. Without another word he sprinted up the steps.
He was just in time. He reached the top out of breath, and the cat looked up from where she was curled up on the flagstones.
“Finally,” she scoffed from the rug. “What took you so long?”
"Angreek87"
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