by D. N. Bryn
I choke, forcing the water out of my chest and through my gills instead. Whipping my tail around, I ride the wave forward. I twist as it lets me go and rip the netting off my fins, snatching my tides free of the brace. Dejean. Where is Dejean?
Bursting forward with my tides, I look for him in the mess. Two of the boats bob, upside down. The dazed, off-kilter humans still struggle in the water as others attempt to right the boats. Another wave hits them, and I brace myself. It spins me once and lets me go.
I can’t find Dejean anywhere. The moment I lift my head out of the water, a clap of thunder booms in the distance, followed by a familiar sound: the strong echo of a song I know all too well.
Sirens are coming.
[ 12 ]
STORM SONG
A song speaks louder than words. It’s a moment come alive: a contradiction. Love and pain. Joy and melancholy. Peace and terror.
THE SONG CUTS through me, piercing and bitter. It’s not our usual love song, not the beautiful melody of adoration and protection. This song haunts with cries of agony that tear the listener from within, a call for the sea to consume and destroy for its lover’s sake. This song carries no blessing, only tragedy.
I shove my head through the surface, using my tides to stay afloat as I search for Dejean. I find him sprawled across the catamaran’s netting. He lies there lifelessly, the wind and waves throwing the boat about. My heart clenches into a knot, leaping and falling as he moves. He picks himself up, only to pitch toward the water, toward the call of the approaching sirens.
I shoot a burst of power from my tides. Catching one of the catamaran’s hulls, I pull myself onto it and roll over, crashing against Dejean. I wrap my arms around his waist. He shoves me backward as another wave nearly tips the boat. Arms shaking, I grab onto his feet, my grip loosened by the tides on my palms. Dejean kicks me off.
The siren’s song reaches a peak. They burst into the ring of boats, flashes of fin and scale. There’s more than I have fingers to count, a group larger than any single pod I have ever seen. Some streak through the water, ripping into the submerged humans, the puffs of red churned away by the force of the shifting waves. Others leap through the air, catching those who remain on the boats and dragging them into the sea.
Jaquelin climbs into the dinghy nearest our catamaran. Her sword gone, she clutches a spear, the blocker in her ear shining as it protects her from the song. A deep red siren launches at her. She thrusts the spear into their chest, twisting so that Red drops into the boat with her. Red shrieks a blood-curdling sound that makes me yearn to help. But I ignore the feeling, grabbing one of Dejean’s ankles with both hands.
Another siren comes to the call, this one black as the abyss. They leap up behind Jaquelin and grab hold of her shoulders, tackling her over the edge. She vanishes into the water, a deep strip of flesh torn from her neck.
Never again will she threaten Dejean, but the sirens streaming around me will rip him apart without a second thought. I shudder, tightening my hold on his ankle. A wave pounds into us, tossing me backward. My grip slides, the rushing sea peeling between my scales and his skin. No.
Laying on his stomach, Dejean uses the backwash of the water to scoot himself closer to the catamaran’s edge until his shoulders hang over. I flounder, reaching for him, but I find no hold on the wet boat. He prepares to shove off.
I can’t reach him in time.
The sea seems to toss slower as that realization sets over me. My body doesn’t know how to respond, how to feel. How can I lose him? How can I watch them tear him apart?
I refuse.
Drops of water fall in a lopsided torrent, and the world bursts back to life. I try the only option I have left. I sing.
I sing to Dejean with everything I have in me. My tune harmonizes with the other sirens’ vicious elegy, but it rises above theirs, soft and sweet and inviting. It harbors everything I feel for Dejean, and everything I’ve seen of the ocean through his eyes. I sing for him and for the sea: I sing of the love I hold for my home and the way he worked to meet me here, in this dangerous, turbulent, wonderful ocean.
For a terrifying moment he does nothing. Then he pulls away from the edge. Turning, he sits up, his eyes on me. His focus drifts, bleary, a hint of confusion crossing his features. But he moves toward me. When I sang to him last night a beautiful, soft look had crossed his features. How different this is, glazed and muddled, the twinkle gone from his eyes. But he comes. He comes to me, drifting into my arms as though he belongs there. I shove my tides onto my brace and hold him close, clutching the side of one hull as waves toss the boat. My voice remains strong and unwavering until the songs of the other sirens die down.
All other sound dies into the beating rain and the crashing water, bringing us ever closer to shore, and beneath that, the soft cry of mourning. The black siren lays over the side of the nearby dinghy, Red’s head against their chest. Red’s eyes still flicker with life, but the wound Jaquelin left them with is visible even against their scarlet chest.
Corpses floated around us, churning in the water, chunks taken from them, more bodies likely scattered beneath the waves or dashed against the rocks. Dejean is the only human left alive. Among the destruction, the ship Kian’s first mate manned has vanished. The rain blocks the horizon on all sides. It could be lost beyond my vision or smashed into an offshore rock and drowned into the water, but I suspect he fled in time.
“Leave them!” A murky brown siren comes up beside Abyss and Red. “They’ll not last long. We must move.”
Abyss only glares at Murk, shielding Red’s neck in a protective motion. Though younger and smaller than Murk, Abyss growls with determination, refusing to let Red go.
I want to help them, to do something for Red, but I don’t know how to heal like a human doctor, and I don’t have any of Dejean’s green goop or blood-building pills. At this point, I’m not sure if they would save Red anyway. I tighten my hold on Dejean, burying my chin into his wet hair. He shifts. His hands find mine as he comes out of his tranced state, but he stays silent.
“Fine. We will leave you too,” Murk hisses, turning away. They pause, chin in the water. Their eyes flash toward me. No sound leaves them as a series of emotions crosses their face; first fear, then confusion, and finally anger. They call the other sirens with a long drawl of wordless vocals.
Heads pop up in the chaotic waves around us, the same string of expressions churning through the mismatched pod. Even Abyss stares at Dejean and I, a spark of hatred flaring in their dark eyes.
“What is this?” A familiar looking teal siren with black markings hisses. It takes me a moment to place them as the one who tried to help me escape Dejean back when I was still on Kian’s ship. “You are not yet from among us.” They say it in fewer words than the human language would use, a simple phrase of greeting to establish my lack of connection with their odd group while still offering me a chance to join them. “If you are eating the human, do it quickly.”
If only they would leave it at that and sink back into the water without caring if I follow through. I haven’t accepted their offer to join them, and this is not their territory to set the rules of. They should leave me be.
But these sirens have been hurt. For this many of them to appear in one group, hunting humans without any notion of territory or honor, they must have been driven from their homes by force. Only one person has the power to do that. For all they know, Dejean is part of Kian’s hunting party. The hunting party they sought out and hunted in return.
But how can I fight them if I could barely handle Storm? The lifeless weight of my tail tugs me whichever way the catamaran tips. The cry Red makes breaks my heart, the painful, wilted noise of someone dying. Even if I could fight them—if I could kill them like I killed Storm—would I want to?
I wrap my arms tighter around Dejean, giving him a coo so soft that the crashing of the storm nearly drowns it out. I won’t let them have you. I can’t keep that promise, but it’s a nicer saying than t
he alternative: If they kill you, I will die at your side.
The sirens bob underwater as another wave rolls over us, but Murk’s eyes never leave me. “What do you have on your tail?”
“A human contraption?” Another siren asks, echoes of the same thought mimicked among the rest. A few move forward, teeth bared, as others drift back, fear trembling through them.
What do I say? What will they accept? There’s no good lie here. If I claim Dejean as my friend, they’ll see me as a traitor, and if he’s anything else, they’ll kill him.
“It is human made,” I say finally, my voice quavering once. “Without it, I can’t swim.” I don’t give them time to respond, their contempt urging me on. “This human is my pod-mate. They’re not like the ones who are hunting us. They have saved my life and would help me however they can. They are good; a friend of the sea.”
It’s the same reasoning I tried to use with Storm. It won’t work. I can see it in their faces, just like before; a moment of contemplation, then denial. I have to find some other way to convince them. Something. There must be something.
The nearest siren bursts forward, grabbing hold of the edge of the boat with a hiss.
I flinch away, drawing Dejean closer and shrieking at them in return. Dejean tenses in my arms. I can almost feel him thinking. If he would only turn and sign to me, I would know what was going through his mind. But he doesn’t.
He pulls away. “You know of the human pirate Kian?”
That halts the sirens. Teal narrows their eyes. They don’t seem to understand Dejean’s language like I do, but they know that word.
“Kian,” Teal hisses. “Kian hunted us until our pods were decimated. They drove us from our homes. What does the human know of that monster?”
Dejean looks at me, and I translate for him in as few signs as I can manage. He looks at Teal, holding their gaze with determination. “I am going to help Perle kill Kian.”
Kill, and then, Kian. They understood nothing but those two words. The concepts echo through the pod, building into a storm of their own.
“This human is like the others; they say they are hunting us for the monster, Kian!” Murk shouts, teeth bared. They lunge forward.
Like a flash, Teal stops them, snapping over the noise of the sirens and the churning of the wind and sea. “Humans are evil, not stupid. They would know better than to say that which will seal their death.” Teal’s gaze flashes toward me, the pounding rain blurring the suspicion puckering their face.
“The human is coming with me to kill Kian,” I translate, staring Teal down. “We’ll stop Kian’s hunt and destroy the instruments they use.” I tinge my language with anger, a sharpness and vehemence in my sound and a curt drive to my motions. “If you stop me and this human—if you kill them—you’ll be helping the monster escape.”
Murk barks a laugh. “They’re a human! Humans kill each other without a thought,” they snap. “They’re using you! They’ll take the instruments and use them just as Kian has.”
A response boils in the back of my mouth, but one glance at Dejean stops me. His gaze fixes on the red siren dying in the nearby boat.
“I have to help them.” The rush of the wave that hits us as he speaks nearly drowns out his voice. But the signs he pairs with his words ring in my mind. The moment my fury fades, I feel the same.
“There’s nothing we can do,” I confess, though the knowledge hurts.
He narrows his eyes. “Maybe there is.”
“What—”
Dejean cuts me off. “Have them bring the dinghy over, as close as they can.”
I glance between the sirens and the quickly approaching shoreline, rocks spiking out of the water along the cliff’s edge. What can Dejean do for a dying siren with so little time and no options? But that’s not my question to answer. My job is making the others listen.
Lifting my voice, I ignore Teal and Murk and focus my attention on Abyss. “My human would like to help your Red. Will you allow that?” Every curve of my being and fluctuation in my tone speaks for me, a plead and a resolution all at once.
Abyss’s stance immediately shifts, protective arms tightening around the bleeding siren. “They’ll hurt Red.” With the rush of the sea blurring their face, I can’t tell if it’s a statement or a question.
“Red’s already dying,” I counter. “What do you have to lose?”
The empty, broken look that slips onto Abyss’s face is hard to meet, but I have my answer loud and clear.
“I want the human’s help,” Abyss says. The sound of their voice dies as Murk shrieks a shrill noise, lunging at the boat. Teal tackles them into a wave before they can reach it, and they both vanish below the surface.
“Bring the boat closer!” I snarl at the nearest siren. They cower under the water, but a sandy brown and a gray move toward the dinghy. With Abyss’s help, they drag it against the catamaran’s side. Dejean leaps over, dropping to his knees beside Red. He receives nothing more than a weak hiss as the siren glares at him, their face pained.
“The box, near the mast.” Dejean doesn’t look toward me to see if I’m moving. Carefully, he begins extracting the spear from Red’s chest, earning himself another hiss. “It’s okay, we’re going to fix this, lie back.” His tone takes the soft, musical flow he’s heard from me. Red responds to it, some of the tension easing out of them.
Rolling myself across the netting, I grab the box and yank at it. My hands slip as it stays firmly fastened to the mast. Scowling, I throw it open instead. All right, Dejean, what am I looking for here? I dig through a rolled-up sheet of something silver and shove a few bottles of water to the side before finding it: the gun with the gel Dejean used to seal our wounds closed last week.
Snatching it, I roll to the dinghy with Dejean and Red. I glance toward the shoreline and my hands grow clammy. I can make out the ridges in the sides of the rocks, swells of turbulent water crashing off them into plumes of white foam. Another few waves and we’ll be crushed as well.
I shove myself into the dinghy, shouting at Abyss, Sandy, and Gray, “Keep us away from the shore!”
They grab hold of the sides of the little boat. Detaching it from the catamaran’s side, they push it back toward the open sea. For each tail-length they manage to drive us forward, a rolling wave takes us back just as far. Water sloshes inside the boat, and more fills it with each swell.
I shove the gel shooter into Dejean’s hands. Behind me, wood snaps and metal scrapes as the catamaran hits the rocks, Dejean’s precious boat shattering into splinters. I force myself to breathe in air, my head going light.
“I don’t know if this will be enough, but it’s your best shot,” Dejean says, preparing the gel gun. “I can’t do any more until the storm blows over.” He holds the instrument in place.
Then a massive swell hits. Bigger than the others, it crashes over the entire length of the boat. The dinghy tips in the water, submerging. I grab a hold of the planks, trapping Red’s tail under my body so we don’t lose them to the churning sea. Abyss and Sandy brush against me, ramming the boat back to the surface and righting it as best they can.
Red still lays in the bottom, slumped in far too much water for a boat of this size. They hold their hands over their face, trembling fiercely. Dejean is gone.
My heart rises into my throat, pulsing there with the scorching of the midday sun. I have to find him. If he’s hurt, if he crashes into the rock, if he passes out beneath the surface…
I turn to leap from the boat, but my hand brushes over a little cylinder caught between the fabric and tubing of my brace. The gel gun. I glance at Red, their eyes wide and their body shaking. They won’t survive. Every instinct tells me so. But I can’t ask my own kind not to give up on our injured if I won’t do the same.
Tightening my grip on the gel gun, I press it to their stomach wound and squeeze the trigger. Green goop fills the oozing gap. I don’t know how long it will take to solidify, but we have no time to spare. As another wave rushes t
oward us, I grab Red and throw us both into the sea. I dive downward, avoiding the worst of the swirling water.
Abyss appears beside us in an instant.
I give them Red. “Hide where you can. If you survive this, stay in the coastal waters. I’ll find you.”
The currents still pound us, and a rock approaches steadily. I spiral out of the way, snatching my tides off my brace and putting them on. Manipulating a fin prosthetic would be impossible in a storm like this. Even with my tides, I can’t begin to fight the waves. I have to make do the best I can.
By the time I steady myself, Abyss and Red have vanished in the clouded storm waters. I spin, searching for any sign of Dejean. Nothing.
“Dejean!” I scream his name, though I know he doesn’t have the vocal capacity to reply below the surface. The strength of my body and the power of my tides feels weak against the coursing of the water. He must be worse off, with no knowledge of these currents and no way to breath them in. One smack against the rocks…
I can’t think about that. I have to find him, wherever he is. Stealing the rush of the waves, I let them throw me toward the shoreline, riding their chaotic energy with minimal success. Unable to fight the water, Dejean would be somewhere ahead. Near the cliff; near the rocks. Just near them, not dashed against. After all we’ve survived, he can’t leave me, silent and alone.
“Dejean!” My voice catches, coming out as a wail. “Dejean, where are you?”
I almost pass him, his shadow melting into the blurred line of the reef. With a yelp, I shove my tides up to my wrists and grab the underwater rock, pulling against it to stop from being carried away. If Dejean were a siren, his position would have been favorable, his body wedged into a cleft in the reef. But he’s not. He needs air.
