by D. N. Bryn
“It’s made of the same stuff as the little energy shooter aids,” she says. “The insides’re incredibly detailed. Even if a few of them did get out, some’s gonna have a hell of a time trying to reverse engineer this, much less design it again from scratch.” Whistling, she cradles the glowing bit in her palm and holds the rest at eye level. “Whatever you gotta say about Kian, she was a damn genius.”
“It took her years.” Theirn speaks softly, not looking at us. “Drove her mad, all that time focused on building something that would let her hunt sirens. But she was so proud of that design, once she finished. She—” He stops himself, curling his legs up to his chest again. We sit quietly, but he says nothing more.
A strange pressure builds in my chest. Kian became a monster, but she had been more, once. Perhaps she let her anger and bitterness force her too far into the darkness to return, but that didn’t stop Theirn from caring about her, even in his fear. I won’t excuse Kian’s violence, and I won’t pity her. But I’m glad Dejean and I have the chance to reach out to others with similar wounds, both human and siren, to stop their hatred before they use it to lock themselves on a destructive path.
I catch Murielle’s attention with a wave of my hand. “If you get rid of the rest, you can keep the glowing bit.”
“Thank you, thank you!” She bounces in Simone’s lap, making her fiancée grunt and grab her shoulders to keep her still.
“Ask Theirn if anyone else has the plans for Kian’s ear pieces.”
Theirn shakes his head once Dejean finishes translating. “No,” he says. “She wouldn’t share it. She used the designs as a bargaining chip, but she would never have given them up. Letting go of something she’d spent so long on wasn’t in her nature.”
I release a breath of relief. While I don’t trust Theirn entirely, in this I think he’s telling the truth. Nothing else would fit with what I know of Kian.
Leaning against Dejean, I follow the line of the crashing waves. The water beneath us seems to retreat, the tide running its course. In the distance, the blurred shape of a far-off island mars the horizon. A flicker of black in the nearest waves catches my eye. It vanishes and appears again, just above the white water.
I lift my voice in a greeting. A small, black siren sticks their head out of the water, returning my call with a fainter, melancholic sound. Abyss. I nudge Dejean in the side and sit up properly. Abyss lingers out among the waves, making a series of mournful tunes.
“You can come here,” I tell them. “The humans won’t hurt you.”
Every jerky motion and nervous glance screams their reluctance, but they come, letting the wave carry them in. Grabbing onto my tail, they wiggle up onto the wet sand beside me, small and wary. And alone. Red is nowhere to be seen. After all the trouble Abyss went through to protect them, I can only think of one reason for that. A sharp pain swells in my chest.
“You lost them. We helped, but you still lost them.”
Abyss lays their head in their arms, their dark body drawing in the light. “They would’ve been gone much sooner, if you hadn’t helped.” They pause, trembling once. “Can you… can you thank your human for me?”
“Of course.”
Dejean already looks at me intently, and I explain everything to him, my signs soft. His face drops, his lips turning down, but he nods. “Poor thing.”
“Are they all right?”
Theirn’s question surprises me, almost as much as the worry behind it. I let Dejean relay the situation. The corners of Theirn’s face sink as he drops his head. He seems to know that it’s partially his fault for handing out the ear pieces to Jaquelin’s hunting party, though I suspect offering them had been a ploy by Kian to drive me out of hiding.
Abyss scoots onto their elbows, staring at him curiously.
An awkward softness takes over Theirn’s features. “Is there anything I can do for them?”
His words mix with Abyss’s song-like voice. “Who is he?”
“He’s…” Kian’s old first mate doesn’t quite seem to fit. “He’s with us. You can come too, if your old pod left. We have a nice cove, and a little house. It’s a good place.” A home.
“Yes.” They don’t look away from Theirn as they speak, their voice little more than the whisper of the wind. “Yes, I’ll come.”
“Abyss is going to be staying with us too,” I sign to Dejean. “Tell Theirn he’ll have plenty of chances to help them.”
It takes Dejean three tries to translate Abyss’s name, but Theirn looks very happy when he finally completes the explanation. Murielle gives Abyss a wink, and Simone sighs. She dumps Murielle out of her lap and stands, offering her fiancée a hand up. They walk down the beach, slow enough that Murielle’s limp almost vanishes, their hushed tones too muffled by the waves.
Theirn shifts for a moment before following their example, meandering off the other direction. He picks up an intricate shell from the sand and, noticing Abyss looking at it, offers it over. Cautiously, they roll toward him. Taking the shell from his hands, they begin pointing out sections of it, not caring that Theirn has no idea what they’re saying. He doesn’t seem to care much either.
A swell of hope rises in me at the sight. Maybe someday they can help Dejean and I share our language with the rest of the sea, as we will with them.
Taking great care, Dejean draws me closer to his side. “Perle?” He waits for me to acknowledge him before lifting his hand enough to make that soft, fluid sign I saw from him back at the cave. “I love you.”
It might be the first time the phrase leaves his lips, but it comes as no surprise. His love is one of the few things I’m sure of. I release a long, contented breath, leaning my head against his shoulder to watch the waves. “I love the sea,” I say after a while, “But I love you almost as much as I love the sea.” If I had to choose one, Dejean or the ocean, I no longer know what I would pick.
No—perhaps that’s a lie. I would pick Dejean. The sea wouldn’t feel quite like home anymore without him in it.
My heart sinks after a moment. “Don’t humans equate love with mating?” I ask. “I love you, but I don’t feel those impulses with you. You have legs. And toes.”
Dejean’s brow shoots up, but a joyful laughter rises out of him with such force that I can feel the trembling of his chest. “I don’t feel that either. If I’m honest, I don’t even feel that about humans. Never have.” He pauses, looking nervous. “But, I would like to kiss you.”
I remember his lips pressed against my fingers, and my chest grows warm. “I’d like that.”
Cupping the side of my face, he leans forward. He presses a kiss to the center of my forehead, a soft, perfect touch that takes my breath away. Feeling a little dizzy, I wrap one arm across his chest. My stomach rumbles.
“Dejean?”
“Hm?”
“I’m hungry.”
He laughs again, his eyes sparkling. “I think that means it’s time to go home.”
Home. With Dejean. With Murielle and Simone. Now with Theirn and Abyss as well.
Lifting my head, I press my lips to his cheek.
“Yes. Let’s go home.”
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have been blessed with many pearls in my life—as well as many sparkly-eyed pirates—and without each and every one of them I would never have made it even half this far.
I owe my thanks:
First, to my mom, who is the most spectacular mother anyone could ask for, and whom I should have trusted fuller and sooner than I did.
To my entire family, for their undying support and ability to listen to constant updates on my writing progress.
To my critique partners and be
ta readers and the avosquado writers support group (all hail the great avocado in the sky!), but most especially to Jillian, Christina, Audrey, Rai, Katelynn, Emily, Sierra, Hannah, Alixander, and Tara. It takes a village to raise a child, and this was my child. Without their honest feedback and unending encouragement, I would still be crying over the rough draft.
To the first storyteller, the great I Am, for being also the first love, the first forgiveness, and the first saving strength, without whom I would be nothing at all, much less a writer.
To my editor, Courtney, not only for her great work and for being a joy to work with, but for her excitement over the story itself.
And of course, to Szilvia, who somehow tricked me into turning “I HAVE THESE TWO NEW BABIES WHO I AM IN LOVE WITH HALP” into a proper novel.
Copyright © 2018 by D. N. Bryn
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2018
Print ISBN 9781721833412
For information about purchasing and permissions, contact D.N. Bryn at [email protected]
www.DNBryn.com
Edited by Courtney Rae Andersson with Elevation Editorial.
Cover design by damonza.com
This work is fictitious. Any resemblance to real life persons or places is coincidental. Should the existence of siren in real life be established following publication of this book, that too is mere coincidence.
