Our Bloody Pearl

by D. N. Bryn

  “Easy there! You’ll hurt yourself.”

  Dejean’s words sound distant to my ears, hidden in a rush like the crashing of the ocean, but the smell of the liver under my nose overpowers my fear. I snatch it between my teeth. He winces this time. I can still taste his blood.

  He holds the next piece further out, but within reach of my freed hand. “Careful now,” he says gently. “Go slow.”

  “Slow,” I grumble. I try it though. My arm tingles, tight and painful, and it shakes as I hold it in the air. But I can bend it a little more each time I move. I drop it back onto the edge of the tub, shifting my shoulder to avoid touching my elbow sore to the metal or my fingers to the restraint.

  Dejean watches me, his gaze piercing. “You do know our language, don’t you?” He says it slow and precise, as though that will somehow help me understand him better.

  “Again, not an animal,” I snap.

  At least he has some level of comprehension. However small.

  Dejean’s brows pinch, but he nods, his lips turning up. He continues to observe me so intently that I want to pull deeper into the tub just to avoid his gaze. I prefer this to fear though; more cringing, less quailing.

  “Would you let me touch your arm?” he asks.

  “No,” I hiss at him.

  “All right, I get it.” He holds his hands up, palms facing me. I have no idea what he means by the motion, but his expression is open, submissive. “I just want to look at that sore. I might have something I can bandage it with.”

  A bandage. Those are the white skins humans stretch over wounds. I don’t know if their healing techniques work on sirens, but the sores are painful. It might be worth a try. I hold out my arm to him, glaring as I do, narrowing my eyes.

  The rough skin of his fingers makes me itch, but he stays clear of my more tender scales. “You should know, I have not the slightest idea what I’m doing.”

  “Clearly.”

  “This doesn’t look terrible. Sirens must be made of different stuff than humans.” Dejean’s finger brushes the edge of the sore, and I cringe, a growl burning up my throat. He lets go, handing me a chunk of liver. “Here. You did well.”

  I move my elbow more this time. The muscles tremble, but it bends easier with each motion, mending itself in long, aching strokes. As Dejean stands, I jerk away, lifting my arm to protect my face. My hand smacks into my face from the force of my motion, and I stiffen in shock.

  Smiling weakly, Dejean edges around the tub toward the port side. “You don’t have to go knocking yourself out to get me to slow down.”

  “I could eat you, you know!” It rises as a growl at first, but the words become a whine, the air contorting my beautiful noises into something almost as ugly and rough as the human’s tongue. “I will someday, when I’m stronger.”

  Dejean’s eyes sparkle. “That didn’t sound very friendly,” he chides, slipping the key into the lock of my other wrist restraint.

  “I’m not friendly.”

  The metal clicks open, and I draw out my other hand, carefully bending my arm a few times to work out the tightness. I drop them both into the water, but the foul stuff stings my dry scales. Drawing in a breath through my teeth, I yank them back out. I want to murder Kian, each of her crew members, and everyone who ever set foot on this terrible ship. Instead, I hiss at the liquid and cross my arms over my chest.

  “I’ll be back soon.” Dejean stands. He heads for the door, taking the rest of the liver with him.

  I twist to face him, gripping the tub with my hands, and scream, “Mine!”

  He stops. The metal lances my chest as I throw myself against the side of the tub, grabbing for the rest of the liver. I can’t quite reach it.

  With a dramatic sigh, he cuts off a large chunk of the meat and tosses it at me. “Go slowly. I don’t want you getting sick in here.” He waves the remaining half. “You can have the rest later.”

  Then he vanishes, leaving the door to my room open. Kian’s cabin shuts tight and the lock clicks. Simone must have found the spare key to that, too.

  I gnaw on the liver, trying my hardest to savor it. Some of the warmth is gone, but it’s still juicy and tangy, and I yearn for more. Out the port window, Dejean’s ship floats a fair number of dinghy lengths away. The nearest wing dangles, tilting the vessel slightly, and the steam stacks flicker with an odd light. They must be broken.

  The glimpse of sea to either side of the ship stretches endlessly, tugging at me in a way not even the tastiest morsel can. If not for the weight pinning me to the tub, I could attempt an escape. But at least one door and two flights of stairs stand between me and freedom. With my arms so weak, I doubt my tail will be any better. If I stay where I am, Dejean may keep feeding me, and perhaps bandage my sores.

  I huff to myself. What’s he playing at? He can’t be doing this for my sake. Maybe he means to sell me.

  A shiver runs down my spine. At least as a captive on a ship, I can see the ocean, feel it rock beneath me, smell it in the breeze that comes through Kian’s cabin door. If these humans bring me onto land, I won’t survive.

  The door thuds as it’s flung open. Dejean’s arm comes into view, but he turns away, dropping something off to the side as a new set of footsteps approach. Most of the light vanishes as he closes the door on me.

  “I thought I said I was not to be disturbed.” His voice shifts away from the playfulness he takes with Simone and the thoughtful, soothing emphasis he uses on me. This new tone holds none of Kian’s harsh cruelty, but it sounds forced, as though he pulls his joy from beneath layers of wet sand, the emotion coming through blunted and coarse. “What do you need, Chauncey?”

  “Just a report, Captain.” The crew member makes no mention of Dejean’s stiffness. “We finished the search of the ship.”

  “And did you find them?”

  “Not yet, but there are locked chests in the hull we’re still opening. We’ve also cataloged enough provisions to last a full crew two weeks. The damages along the port are nearly patched, and we’ve pulled the wings up. What would you have us do with Kian’s crew?”

  “I’ll deal with them later,” Dejean says gruffly, even for a human. “You may return to the search.”

  “Aye, captain.” Receding footsteps follow the words and Kian’s door closes once more.

  I try to make sense of the conversation, but a missing piece seems to drift too far out to sea. Dejean has more sides to him than Kian. And he’s searching for something.

  He opens my sliding door and enters, carrying a long tube, a stack of buckets, and absolutely no liver. He hands me one end of the tube.

  “I can’t eat this.” I glare at him, but he only smiles in reply.

  “Put it in the tub. I’ll bring you the liver once we’re finished.”

  I lower the end of the tube into the water, slowly, waiting for something terrible to happen. Nothing does.

  Scooting closer, Dejean spreads out the buckets in a row. He pauses. “How long can you survive without water?”

  “How long can you survive without air!” I shove the tube back at him.

  Dejean scrambles to catch it. “Not long, I get it.” He scowls at the tube, but the expression fades when he looks back at me. “I just need to know how quickly I’ll have to refill the tub after the bad water’s been drained.”

  Suddenly, I feel very small. Creeping my fingers over the side of the tub, I snatch the tube and shove it into my filthy muck.

  “I guess that’s my answer?”

  I nod, sinking away from him with a scowl. If I had any dignity left, I would try to maintain it, but Kian bled mine out, every last blistering tear.

  Dejean sticks his end of the tube in his mouth, sucking on it until water siphons up. He drops it into the bucket, hacking out a mouthful of revolting liquid. “That is foul stuff.”

  Humans are so strange. Though I suppose the way he holds his chest as he coughs and the wrinkles that form around his nose aren’t all that different from a siren. I
focus on the water draining instead, listening as he shifts the tube to a new bucket in steady intervals.

  Despite the rancidity of the water, it still feels wrong to draw it away. Prickles run across my scales, up to the point where the weight presses down on me and I feel nothing at all. The little translucent fins along the side of my tail droop as the water drops beneath them, matching the state of my largest fanning fin where it slumps over the tub’s edge.

  I flinch as Simone sets down two fresh buckets of seawater. The fresh, salty smell floods my senses. I coo at it in adoration.

  “Noisy creature,” Simone mutters.

  “I’m not opposed to eating you, too,” I mutter in return.

  A small smile tugs at Dejean’s lips, but he shakes his head. “They’re just talkative.”

  “Be glad they can’t serenade you right now.” Simone picks up two of the dirty buckets and carries them out.

  The tube gurgles as the last of the old water siphons up, and Dejean sets it to the side. He pours the fresh bucket in. I want to sing, but I only manage a weak moan. Cupping the water in my hands, I splash it onto my face, letting it drip down my chin and across my clamped gills. Bliss.

  Dejean fills the tub until it reaches the center of my chest, leaving just enough space that it won’t slosh out as the ship rocks. After the muck I had before, I prefer the fresh water to any meal. I can’t cover myself in it as I wish to, but it saturates my tail and my lower torso, relieving the itching that’s cursed me for months. I pour it over as much of my shoulders and arms as I can, letting my body soak.

  As Dejean wraps my elbows in his mystical bandages, I avoid looking at him, avoid flinching every time his hands move too suddenly. If nothing else, the weird white skins seem to work as a decent padding against the metal. He finishes up the second one and moves toward my back.

  Twisting, I snarl at him, my sharp teeth bared.

  “I haven’t hurt you yet, have I?” He points out softly.

  “Maybe not, but you will.” If I don’t eat him first. His aid only means he wants me healthy for whatever he’s planning. The healthier I am, though, the easier it will be to escape.

  When he tries to edge around me once more, I give him a pointed look, tightening my round eyes. Very slowly, I lean forward. He slips as far as he can into the small space between the back of the tub and the wall, until I can see nothing but the fringe of his curls. My instincts send me mixed signals: scramble away or attack, hide my face or bite his off. But I ignore them. Staring at my fingers, I run them through the water. They glide, long and spindly in a lovely, deadly sort of way, pointed nails drawing no resistance.

  Dejean pauses from his work. “Why can’t you sing?”

  Curling away from him, I growl a warning. He must want to keep me mute. He’s afraid that if I could sing, I’d soothe him with my voice and eat him while he’s mesmerized.

  I would, but that’s not the point.

  “Did Kian do this?” A mournful tone seeps into his softened voice, distant and pensive: the sound of a somber memory. “Did she remove something of yours? Some kind of vocal cords?”

  The sincerity in his reply stuns me and my brain goes numb. I shake my head. His melancholy still echoing through me, I reach up and brush my fingers over the gills on my neck, sealed tight from being exposed to the air for far too long. The flaps themselves hold no hypnotic ability; that power lies in the oscillating chamber they open to. No siren knows how it works, only that with it, we make a vibration that subdues any land creature. A beautiful sound; the song of the ocean.

  I yearn to create that melody, but with the chamber hidden beneath locked gills, I can do nothing but growl and click and whine. I yank my hand down, hissing at Dejean for good measure.

  He hums under his breath. “I understand, it’s very personal.” His fingers brush my shoulder as he wraps the bandage around my upper back. I scowl, but again, he catches me off guard with his words. “Maybe we can get them working again, once you trust me enough.”

  He can’t know what he’s offering me.

  Simone appears in the doorway to my little room. “Excuse my saying it, Captain, but you’re as dumb as they come. You shouldn’t be giving a siren any advantages. That creature will eat you the moment they can sing again.”

  She’s not wrong.

  Dejean chuckles, finishing with the bandage and standing. “Just as many humans want to stab me through—should I live in fear of adding to that list? At least Perle isn’t planning to dump me overboard for the minnows.”

  “Crabs, not minnows.” I mimic a pair of crab pincers with my hands, baring my pointed teeth at Dejean.

  He returns the motion, baring his own teeth in a way far more annoyingly friendly than I had. “Does that mean something? A lobster?”

  With a scoff, I make the pincers less rounded.

  “Crabs?” Dejean looks at me with so much elation that I barely manage to hide my amusement. After a nod from me, he repeats it louder, testing out the hand motion once more. “Crabs!”

  Sighing, Simone shakes her head. “You’ll need to watch out for Kian.” She leaves the doorway, vanishing into the farther reaches of Kian’s cabin. “Especially since you’re playing with her pet.”

  “This siren isn’t Kian’s anymore,” he snaps, though his bitterness seems directed elsewhere. “That monster’s not touching Perle again.”

  “I’m not yours either,” I object. The thought of a future without Kian brings me some comfort though, as terrible and misplaced as Dejean’s beliefs about me may be.

  Simone reappears, nudging around the puzzle of connected metal shapes Kian would spend hours detaching and then reconstructing in the dead of night. “They’re more intelligent than I anticipated.”

  “It’s reasonable, isn’t it?” Dejean bobs his head, as though agreeing with himself. “Sirens are very similar to humans, physically.”

  “They’re like an ocean monkey then?”

  “A very bright ocean monkey, I think.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, grumbling a noise between a hiss and a gurgle. “If you humans were any smarter than a bright monkey you’d know how dumb you are to believe that!” At least they seem to be learning, though. If they keep this up maybe they’ll be halfway intelligent someday. Dejean grins at me, and I snort. “As though you have any idea what I’m saying.”

  He clearly doesn’t, but he continues smiling anyway, the expression only fading when Simone asks another question.

  “Why are you doing this, Gayle?” Her brows crease and she stares at him in a way far too siren-like, with genuine worry and affection where gruff, selfish human nature should be.

  Dejean avoids her gaze. When he speaks, his words come out in a hush. “I’m passing down my debt.”

  “You know the sort of compassion you owe is lost on animals, even bright ones.”

  “I like them better than people.” He cuts the rest of the liver in two, tossing me half of it.

  “We agree on something!” Taking small bites, I savor it, the growl of my stomach mellowed somewhat.

  Simone barks a laugh. “That murderous creature will eat your liver just as soon as the one you’re offering. Your debt is wasted on them.”

  Again, she’s not wrong. Though with the weight still pinning me down, I would rather be handed free liver by Dejean than eat his only to have Simone starve me as punishment.

  Dejean shakes his head in response. He leaves for a moment, but when he returns, he carries what looks like a big square sponge.

  “Do you think you can lift your hips into the air for me?” he asks.

  I figure he means to put the weird sponge under me—at least, the part of me not weighed down by a hunk of metal. I would prefer sand, but anything is better than the harsh grinding of the tub. Gripping its sides, I push myself up as far as I can, straining against the weight.

  Dejean slips the sponge into the tub. It takes time for him to ease it into place. Having his filthy human hands in my water does
not make me the least bit happy, but for this, it might be worth it.

  “Hurry up,” I yowl at him. “I bet I could eat a little of you and get away with it.”

  He makes that ridiculous cheerful laugh he seems so fond of. “Almost—there!” He pulls away.

  The sponge stays in place as I sink onto it. Where I can feel it, the soft, squishy material cushions me nicely. Not like sand, but a worthy alternative.

  Dejean hands over the last piece of liver. I savor it, sad for the loss. If there are any other viable livers on this ship, I hope he brings me them soon. He’s not like Kian; he seems to enjoy the aid he provides. Though why he would bother still troubles me.

  He joins Simone in Kian’s cabin, but again, he leaves the door open. Out the large starboard window, the sun sinks into view. Both humans move deeper into the cabin, out of my line of sight.

  “Did you find them?” Dejean asks, his voice low and grim.

  “I broke open every damn chest in here, and the crew has searched the rest of the ship, but they haven’t turned up,” Simone replies, just as harsh. “They may not be here at all.”

  “No schematics either?”

  Silence follows, which must have included a head shake from Simone, because Dejean groans. The ship creaks, and far above someone shouts a command across the top deck. The stacks roar to life, and smoke trails into both windows for a moment before the vessel surges forward. Out the port side, some of Dejean’s crew still stand on his ship, waving us off.

  “What if there are no blockers to stop the effects of a siren’s song?” Simone asks. “What if Kian was lucky, and found a way to catch them without making direct contact?”

  “I don’t think so. As far as I can tell, Perle believes they can’t sing as a side effect of something wrong with their gills. I doubt Kian could have known that going into the hunt.”

  “Then she took whatever blockers she had with her.” She leaves Kian’s cabin, Dejean following in her wake. “This attack has been for nothing.”