Phoebe

Strident beeping drilled through the dregs of Phoebe's sleep and hauled her into wakefulness. The hotel room was dark except for the light from her phone screen. It was eye-grit early to be waking up, especially for qualifying day of a race weekend, but she'd promised to be awake for Thessaly. The festival ran until 11PM Occidens time, 7AM where Phoebe was sleeping, but the mermaid hadn't known exactly when she'd be invited on-stage.

Phoebe fumbled for the phone to shut the noise off before it could give her a headache. She'd left the TV remote on the bedside table too, to make sure it was to hand, but it confused her fingers and somehow she managed to knock it onto the floor. She groaned, rolling over and patting around the plush carpet to find it. That got her at least one leg out of bed.

Limbs heavy, she stood up. She turned the TV on without trying to find the light switch. When the sound came up it was too loud for the hour, and her thumb was jittery as she tried to hit the volume control. The broadcast came up on a studio segment, so she went to the bathroom, then splashed some water on her face. When that didn't wake her the rest of the way up, she did a few basic stretches.

Getting back into bed was a risk, but she propped herself up as best she could against the headrest and tried to feel some of the hype the presenters were building about the headline set. Mercifully, it wasn't long before the cameras switched over the main stage. Floodlights sketched out the enormous lake of the crowd, stretching away to what almost looked like the horizon. There seemed to be some sort of giant industrial machinery looming over one side of the stage, splashed with projected rainbow light.

For what felt like a long time, the broadcast was just high-angle shots of the crowd, the dark stage, the rising and falling rustle of thousands of people packed tightly together. Then, before anything Phoebe could see, the roar began to rise – it sounded different to cheers she was used to hearing from Imperial League grandstands. The screens at the back of the stage flashed to life.

Somehow, without any sign that they had walked there, a handful of musicians had appeared on stage, none of them lit clearly enough to make out what they were doing, but their presence framed the central space that the star would take. Swirling synth noises began to surface from under the crowd's noise.

A moment later they were buried again as the stage blazed fully to life and the star bounded excitedly on-stage. He was tall, dressed in all-black, his jacket beaded with sequins so that his pale face was the only thing clearly visible. He carried a long, straight mic stand easily in one hand, waving to the crowd. The broadcast jumped to a close-up, showing he had tall, curving, spiked horns rising from the crown of his head, their sinister appearance at odds with the guileless grin on his cheeks.

He began to sing, and Phoebe realised she vaguely recognised the song, a pop hit from years previously. A chyron popped up, its exuberantly-shaped frame bright green with orange highlights, proclaiming him to be Tam Duffy. Maybe the song was a cover? She only recognised the name because Thessaly had told her.

The set was cheery enough, but it wasn't long before Phoebe was starting to drift off again. Fighting drooping eyelids, she reached over and brought the room lights up. She flicked through her phone; there was a quick message from Thessaly before she'd gone fully into ready mode for her appearance. She wouldn't see Phoebe's response, but Phoebe sent a 'good luck!' anyway. Brynna had very pointedly told her that Thessaly appreciated her messages whenever they arrived.

She had no social media to check anymore, Brynna had taken all of that off her. The move had bugged her at first, too cold and professional, but not having the inevitable hate in her mentions every morning was nice. There was little to do but watch the show. Maybe she should ask Adelie for phone game recommendations.

Finally, there was a break in the music, and instead of howling incitements to the crowd, Duffy brought the energy down a bit, sitting on one of the speakers at the front of the stage with the mic held loosely in his hand, his elbow on his knee. The crowd roared again, and he answered them with an almost sheepish wave.

"Hey guys," he began, the words reverberating through the PA. "Thank you so much for hanging around and waiting for me." He had to stop while they cheered again. "It's been a while since I did a show like this, I didn't know if you'd all come out for little old me." Another cheer, louder this time. "Can I introduce you all to a new friend I just made?"

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The next swell of crowd noise was quieter, part hiss of anticipation magnified by thousands of throats simultaneously. Phoebe pushed herself upright on the bed and leant closer to the TV. On stage, Duffy said, "I love coming to festivals because every so often it means you get a chance to meet a performer who's inspired you and just hang out for a bit, shoot the shit, y'know? But sometimes you get to do a bit more than that."

The crowd produced an audible silence.

Tam jumped back up to his feet and threw one arm out towards the wing of the stage. "Everyone, Rindburg's tidal wave, Thessaly Pantelleria!"

She walked onstage, mic in one hand, beaming wave with the other, her stride long on her tiny frame, almost a swagger. Her closeup revealed a face full of sparkling makeup, jewellery glittering all over her fingers. She was wearing a tshirt that looked like Duffy merch, a shimmery black miniskirt and black tights with thick-soled white sneakers.

Looking at her face was like looking at the sun, but Phoebe couldn't so much as blink. She could almost see the energy of the moment flowing into Thessaly, until the mermaid seemed poised to explode. She didn't say anything – she didn't need to – as she crossed the stage and accepted a quick hug from Duffy. He kept his arm around her shoulder as he turned to the crowd again and said, "I can't tell you how stoked I am to have Thessaly here today. How about we sing a song together? Would that be good?"

There was already a hum of synth noise wavering at the fringes of the crowd's next roar. Somewhere under there a beat started, and enough of the crowd recognised it that their noise rose in a new peak. Duffy finally let go of Thessaly, and she stepped away to give herself some space – to dance in, Phoebe realised.

The synths rose and Thessaly settled into a routine, stepping and swaying from side to side, arms held out from her waist. It looked effortless, completely at odds with the male star's subdued head-nodding to the beat. He started to sing, the tone of the lyrics subtly different to the perky set that had preceded it. There was something dark-chocolate, liqueur-salacious about them, a hint of self-destructive temptation.

The man finished a verse and Thessaly took over, seeming to wrap her whole body around the words with fluid hip movements that hypnotised Phoebe. The mermaid's verse summoned to mind old pre-Imperial folk tales about the merfolk luring sailors below the waters of the Taranto. Phoebe found herself sitting up in bed, leaning towards the screen.

It almost made her flinch when, on the threshold of the chorus, Thessaly crossed the stage to bring her dance up against Duffy's flank. Heat flooded through Phoebe, and she threw the covers off her legs, surging to her feet and starting to stretch her calves out again. At least Duffy didn't look entirely at ease with Thessaly's attention either, though he didn't miss a note.

The two singers parted again for the next verse, with the lyrics somehow getting even darker. It still sounded like a pop song, vaguely familiar in a heard-it-in-a-supermarket-once sort of way, but Phoebe was sure Duffy had sung a line about bodies covering the floor? In Thessaly's part, she sang of plunging into a sea of wine and honey, which sounded like an awful combination.

At least for the second chorus she didn't cuddle up to Duffy again, instead roving the full width of the massive outdoor stage. A harsh white spotlight tracked her, cutting her out of the night, making an aura around her shoulders and hair. The song was catchy, there was no denying that.

Then the music dropped away to almost nothing, and the TV itself seemed to freeze. Phoebe couldn't tell if she was holding her breath or not. On stage, Thessaly stood still, dead centre, mic held in front of her chest and head bowed. Very slowly, the synths began to swirl up again.

Off to one side, Duffy said, "How about a special treat, everyone? Tessie wrote a new verse for me, she asked if we could work it in." Phoebe tensed as she listened, but the crowd seemed to be on-board. Was it really ok? Duffy finished, "Thessaly, take it away!"

The beat cut back in, the mermaid's head came up, and she sang:

Always waiting

Hesitating

I don't know what's real

She stretched out an imploring hand to the close-in camera

If the moment is gone I don't know how to move on

And the tidal wave smashed through all I feel

Now Phoebe was sure she wasn't breathing. She hunched her shoulders, hugging her gut, as Thessaly spun into motion, stalking across the stage.

Keep me hollow 'til tomorrow

You won't bother me with all your, with all your~

And then, hand upraised and howling with even more force than in the second verse:

Dream if you wanna

Scream if you wanna

Phoebe could almost ignore Duffy coming back in to back up the final line.

You won't bother me with all your fears

They sang the chorus again, twice over, bolstered by the choir of the crowd. Somewhere in there Phoebe must have managed to breathe, or she'd have died, but there were spots at the edges of her vision. At one point when she looked at the screen again the song was over, and Duffy was holding Thessaly's hand aloft like a wrestling ref at the end of a match – he towered over her so high that his arm was half-bent.

There were hugs and more cheers and Thessaly walking off-stage, waving and shining like a star. Phoebe shut the TV off before the next song could start, leaving her in silent gloom. After a long moment, she flopped back onto the bed, face-down, the plush cover on her duvet prickling her skin.

There was no point trying to pretend to herself that Thessaly hadn't written those words for her. It was exactly the kind of thing the mermaid would do. You won't bother me with all your fears. Phoebe bit back a sour chuckle, thinking even this one?