Kingdom of Salt and Sirens

by J. A. Armitage

  The screen door of the house slammed in its casing, and two shadows appeared on the porch.

  “Come on, now.” James shuffled behind me with the suitcase. His gentle fingertips in the center of my back prodded me forward and provided the courage I desperately lacked in that moment.

  At the front door stood a man, younger than James—but I guess most mortal men would be—and a girl, even younger, with similar close-set eyes and narrow nose as the man’s. Perhaps a daughter or niece.

  “Good evening, Stephen.” James rushed around me and marched up the front steps, his arm extended.

  Stephen took his hand as a weary smile broke across his lips. “Nice to see you again.”

  “This here is . . .” he held out his arm to me, but a puzzled look of confusion quickly settled across his face. “Forgive an old man, I don’t quite remember your name.”

  I crossed my arms against my chest. “Arianna. My name is Arianna.”

  James snapped his fingers and his head jerked forward. “That’s right. Arianna Fell.”

  I snickered. Very clever, James.

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Stephen said, putting his hands on his hips as the girl stepped around the adults. “And this here is my daughter, Chloe.”

  She rushed down the stairs, her wavy hair bouncing over her shoulders.

  “Nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand for me to shake as her friendly gaze scanned me over, scrutinizing, or maybe simply assessing this new being in her space.

  I took her hand and shook. The men looked on with pride as though they’d been responsible for this pleasant encounter.

  “James says you’re a senior, just like me. I’ll be able to show you everything there is to know about Faraway High.”

  “High school?” I croaked the words as they stuck in my throat, all sharp and prickly. I knew Raguel had planned to punish me, but high school? He might as well have sent me straight to the pits of Hell.

  I stood alone on the front steps as James and Margaret pulled out of the driveway and their red taillights disappeared around the corner. Gulping a deep breath of night air, I paused, letting the oxygen circulate through my bloodstream, mentally preparing myself to go into the house and meet another set of new people that I didn’t understand. Were these all tasks Raguel had planned, or were they just a series of events to put a roof over my head and keep me from starving? At least he’d shown me some mercy. He could’ve dropped me broken, naked, and starving on a street corner. I should’ve been gracious for those small miracles, but I couldn’t help the anger still boiling up inside.

  I entered the quaint kitchen and clicked the screen door shut behind me. Stephen stood in the center of the kitchen, squared stance as if waiting for me to come in, while Chloe sat on the countertop, her legs swinging just above the floor.

  “Please have a seat.” Stephen gestured at the rustically carved wooden chair in front of me and sat down in the one across the table from it.

  “No thanks. I’d rather stand.” I crossed my arms. There wasn’t any reason not to follow directions, but falling from the sky and crash landing in a field had suddenly evoked the need to be insubordinate. Besides, who knew what I was in for.

  Stephen ran his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair then placed them folded on the table, fidgeting with a tarnished silver ring on his left hand.

  “Have it your way. I know it’s late, and I know you’ve probably had a very long day, so I will ignore the attitude for now. However, if you expect to live in this house—no matter how short the time frame—you are expected to behave accordingly. I don’t ask for much, simply helping around the house, watching your language, and showing some respect. Do you think you can handle that?”

  I opened my mouth to argue, the words ripe on the tip of my tongue, but nothing came out. From another man with another temperament, that speech would’ve sent me marching right out the door, but Stephen didn’t appear to be that guy. The lines etched across his forehead and around his eyes crinkled with a warm kindness. He wasn’t my enemy. He’d been generous enough to take in a wayward angel and simply wanted no trouble. Not an unreasonable request.

  I nodded, still refusing to sit but allowing my arms to fall to my side.

  “So, we’re in agreement then. It’s great to meet you, Arianna. Please make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you.” As I opened my mouth, the words came out muffled, mixed with a yawn that stretched my mouth to what felt like the size of my entire head.

  “Looks like you can use some sleep. We can discuss more in the morning.” He stood and tapped his knuckles twice on the table top then turned to his daughter. “Chloe? Please show our guest to the spare room.”

  Chloe launched off the countertop and scampered across the kitchen, down a narrow hallway. “Come on.”

  I looked Stephen over one last time, still unsure about what exactly had transpired tonight, but at least the uncomfortable pain of alarm had let go of my stomach.

  “One more thing,” he said. “I expect you to stay on top of your studies. There is no cutting classes in this house.”

  Class? I doubted the answers to discovering the truth of humanity would be conveniently stated in any textbook, but that was a problem I needed to solve tomorrow. My head had started to swim, and exhaustion coursed through my limbs.

  I made my way down the hallway to where Chloe stood beside an open door. She stepped aside to let me pass into a tiny bedroom, then followed behind with the battered suitcase James had left.

  “So where are you from?”

  “Excuse me?” I shook my head, distracted by the floral bedspread, the tiny flowers drifting in circles as I struggled to keep standing on my tired feet.

  “I said, where are you from?”

  James hadn’t given me a backstory. I probably should have spent more time considering that on the drive here. But no one had left me a manual on what I needed to do.

  “Um . . . city . . . angel . . . Angel city.” Well, that was awful.

  “So, like, Los Angeles?”

  I narrowed my stare, trying to understand the words coming out of her bow-shaped mouth.

  “You know, the City of Angels. Los Angeles.”

  “Yeah, right. Definitely, that’s where I’m from. Los Angeles.” I put my hand on my forehead and rubbed it over my face. “Sorry, just a little out of it right now.”

  “That’s so cool. I’ve never been to a big city like that before.”

  “Well, maybe . . .” another yawn breached past my lips “. . . one day.”

  Chloe giggled, nice and light, and even though I didn’t understand why, I laughed with her.

  “I better let you get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.” She grinned and nodded, as if her mind were already devising a plan for me. “Good night, Arianna.”

  “Good night.”

  I waved as she bounced out of the room and back up the hall. She seemed sweet, but I’d yet to determine if she could be trusted. I sat down on the bed and looked around the room. Nothing more than a bed and dresser with my lumpy luggage in the middle of the floor. I glanced in the mirror above the dresser. I looked dreadful. The glow around me had faded, and dark purple circles had formed under my eyes. Would I ever be myself again?

  In front of the mirror sat a tiny silver frame. I picked it up and ran my fingertips over the three people in the photo, tracing the outlines of their heads. Stephen stood on the left of the frame and Chloe in the middle—but not as themselves now—as they were three or four years ago. Chloe’s wide smile and the two thick braids hanging down the side of her head made her look even younger, but her face seemed closer to today’s Chloe than that of a child. The third person stood on the right. A woman. The same sunny blond hair as Chloe’s, but with softer features. Maybe this was her mother, or possibly another relative of some sort, otherwise it would be impossible for two people to have such a similar smile.

  I put down the photo and lay down on the bed. Tomorrow wou
ld be a new day and a new start, but I still didn’t know what I was looking for. Maybe once the clouds moved out of my sleepy brain, I would find the sun.

  4

  The traitorous sun prickled against my skin, threatening to strike me blind the moment I dared to open my eyes. I defied its wrath and kept them shut, stretching my arms above my head and extending my legs until sharp tingles crept up my thighs. Good pain. The ache of falling still screamed in my joints, but if I ever planned on getting home again, I’d have to get over it. I wrapped my arms around the pillow beneath my head and rolled onto my side where the rays of sunshine couldn’t catch me.

  Blood pumped strong in my veins again, the thumping of my own human heart almost lulling me back to slumber. Rest made sense to me. All bodies needed time to recuperate once in a while. But sleep—sleep seemed frivolous. Although clearly a necessary part of functioning, the thought that mortals spent half their lives not living them seemed wasteful. No wonder they made such bad decisions. They missed so many hours of experience.

  “Shoot.”

  I whipped open my eyes and screamed at a face mere inches from mine. The face screamed back and fell into a pile on the floor. I scrambled to a sitting position and crawled backward until my elbow smashed into the wall. Ouch! I rubbed my elbow and peeked over the edge of the bed to see Chloe steadying herself on crouched legs and grabbing sheets of fluffy gray fabric from the floor. She stood up and folded the fabric into neat rectangles and placed them on the dresser.

  “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her hand over her face, the fresh crimson color draining from her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just came to bring you some clean towels, but I tripped and dropped them.”

  I exhaled, letting the pent-up sensation flow out of my chest through my mouth. I slid back toward the other side of the bed and let my feet hang over the side, my toes brushing the cold floor.

  “It’s all right. I guess I’m just still a little jumpy. New home and all.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure I’d never know what to do if I had to start over with a new family.” Chloe brushed her bangs away from her face. The morning light picked up hints of gold in each strand of her hair and created an ethereal glow around her. Almost like the divine ones back home. Almost, but not quite.

  “Your dad seems nice, but what about the rest of your family? Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  She shook her head.

  “What about your mom? Will I meet her today?”

  Chloe’s face paled and she turned away. She ran her fingertips over the fussy carpentry work on the edges of the dresser, her nails scratching at the fake gold trim. “No, it’s just us. Dad and me.”

  “I’m sorry.” My rib cage gripped tightly around my lungs and my breath caught in my throat, creating a deep burn in my chest. I nodded toward the photo to her left. The happy trio. “I just thought . . .”

  “It’s okay. We get along fine.” Her body quaked, then a forced smile broke across her face. “Besides, my life is super boring. I want to hear more about you.”

  Me? “Uh . . . what did James and Margaret tell you?”

  “Not much. Just that they knew someone in need and asked if we were willing to help.”

  “Just like that? You must trust them. How well do you know them, really? I mean, do you know all about them?”

  Chloe’s stare narrowed and she wrinkled her nose, either taking in my words or analyzing them. She clearly didn’t know the whole truth, and I’d opened up a hidden door. Either that or this high school girl could lie better than a demon.

  “Seems like I’m a lot to take on with only limited information.”

  “They’ve been good to us. They’ve belonged to our church as long as I can remember, and any time we’ve ever needed anything, they’ve gone out of their way to help. It was a simple favor for all the good things they’ve done.”

  “Your church? Wait, it’s Sunday morning. You’re not skipping just to keep an eye on me, are you?”

  She laughed. “No. Dad’s there now, but I haven’t gone since . . .” The lightness drained from her expression. “For a few years.” Then she grinned slyly. “Besides, you don’t seem as bad as you make yourself out to be.”

  “Thanks a lot.” I grabbed the pillow and chucked it across the room, barely missing Chloe’s shoulder. She pivoted and avoided the attack, her voice tinkling like bells as she giggled at my pathetic throw.

  “Seriously though, what did you do to end up here? Steal things? Drugs? You don’t look like a drug addict to me, but I don’t know that many either. Or at least I don’t think I do. Did you hurt someone?” She took a slight step back—so slow and careful as if to ensure I didn’t notice—and her eyes darted toward the open door.

  I stood up. Chloe’s hands wrapped into fists, her muscles clenching as she shifted her weight to her toes.

  “No, I didn’t hurt anyone. I just . . . I helped someone I shouldn’t have. I thought I’d done the right thing, but my family disagreed with me.” The disappointment on Raguel’s face seared across my brain, and I cringed. “So, they kicked me out.”

  Chloe studied my face, running her eyes over every feature as if trying to find a crack in my story. Then her lips turned up on the right in a sympathetic smile. “Sounds like a bit of an overreaction to me.”

  “I know, right? They’re just really strict and don’t take well to broken rules.”

  “Well, until they come to their senses, you are welcome to stay with us. We have rules too, but it sounds like it’ll be a lot easier than where you’ve come from.”

  “Thank you, Chloe. You’re a really kind soul.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I try, but I wouldn’t go around talking like that. People will think you’re weird. I mean—I don’t—I just want you to have a good experience here.” She gazed down at the floor, fighting the smile attempting to burst across her lips, then peeked up at me through her long lashes. “Besides, I’ve kind of always wanted a sister, even if it’s just for a little while.”

  “I’d be honored. But I don’t think I’ll be here that long.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Now, where do you find the humans on a Sunday in Iowa?”

  “What?” Chloe’s face twisted in confusion.

  Humans. Right. Shouldn’t really refer to them like that.

  “I mean, where the people are. Where do people like to go? I’d like to get acquainted with this town as quickly as possible.”

  “The farmer’s market, I guess. Most people go to the big ones in the city on Saturdays, but our local one is Sunday afternoons.”

  “Perfect. Then let’s go.” I nodded and headed toward the door, the adrenaline from getting started on my quest prickling underneath my skin.

  “Um . . .”

  I spun around, but Chloe hadn’t followed.

  “What?” I looked down, taking in the printed flannel flamingos splattered across the pajamas I’d found in the burgundy suitcase last night. “Oh, right. I should probably get changed.”

  “Yeah, and you might want to shower. You still have some dirt . . .” She brushed her hand along her cheek and her neck.

  I mimicked her gesture, the grit of dried mud rough under my fingertips. “Of course. I should probably take care of that.”

  Chloe grabbed one of the folded towels from the dresser and held it out for me. “If you ever feel like telling me how that happened, I’m sure I’d love to hear it.”

  5

  The cool fall breeze swirled the gold and cinnamon leaves across the gravel lot leading into the market field. I pulled my sweater sleeves down and bunched them in my palms as the tiny hairs on my neck prickled straight up. Although the fabric itched a little against my skin, Margaret had done a great job picking out the wardrobe she’d left for me in the suitcase. Most items were plain, but they blended in well with the other girls in town. I didn’t need to call any extra attention to myself. What would these people do if they knew an angel wal
ked among them? But without my wings, was I even an angel anymore?

  “Welcome to the Faraway Farmer’s Market. Is it everything you hoped it would be?” Chloe spread her arm in front of her and led me into the throng of people buzzing between the rows of tiny tents and market stalls.

  She linked her arm in mine and jerked her head toward the vendors. “C’mon.”

  We maneuvered through the crowd, expertly avoiding the stray arms and elbows of the other patrons and the lineups that extended deep into the distance. We passed apples, corn, and other odd-shaped fruits and vegetables I’d never seen before piled high in crates. Soaps, honeys, and sweet treats packaged with homemade flair lined tables serviced by smiley-faced women hoping to sell just one more lemon loaf. The rich scent of popcorn and caramel squeezed through the cracks between the bodies, as if beckoning us onward like sirens of scent instead of song.

  On the far side of the field the crowd thinned, and young people milled about, trying desperately not to be involved with the chaos.

  “Chloe.” A tall girl ran up to us and pulled Chloe into a hug. “I didn’t think you were coming because of your new guest.”

  At the words “new guest,” the girl had made matching peace sign gestures with her hands then bent them at the knuckles as a sly smirk whispered across her lips. Clearly, this girl had mocked me, but I didn’t understand the punchline.

  “Actually, she wanted to come.” Chloe pulled me forward to stand in front of the mystery girl. “Stace, meet Arianna.”

  “Hi,” the girl said, as a pink blush blossomed along her cheekbones. “You aren’t at all what I expected.”

  “Nice, Stacey.” Chloe elbowed her in the arm, and Stacey frowned. “What she means is that we figured you’d be a lot . . . rougher, I guess. The way James mentioned you, it seemed like you’d practically done hard time or something.”

  “Oh. So, everyone thinks I’m some sort of criminal?”