Siren Daughter

by Cassie Day

  She huffs, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “I will never forget.”

  I kiss her cheek and stand. She waves me off, her attention turning to the children while I stare.

  Precious time ticks by. The orb above doesn’t waver but her attention does, bouncing between the two children.

  Walking away from my mother sitting alongside the fountain, humming to children who barely notice, clenches my heart so tight I wonder why it doesn’t dissolve into dust. My hands shake, my knees knock together, but I press on.

  There’s no turning back.

  Charon and his curved boat wait on the river. The first glimpse is from eons away while I stand atop a hill. I walk until my chest aches from the lack of breath, following the sloshing river noise. I dip into valleys and flat fields teeming with fragrant flowers. Sweet and soft. They will linger in the air and on my clothes long after I’m gone from here.

  The river rushes to meet me. Soon I stand upon the loose gravel shore.

  Charon squints first at my spotless dress and shining hair, then the comb I grasp in one hand.

  “You’ve done it,” he says. Does surprise or disappointment lace his tone?

  My eyes are free of tears. Of anything but hollow victory when I stare back. “Yes.”

  The bridge unfolds. It’s nothing to walk across. Nothing to lower myself onto a bench.

  I’m numb. I’m adrift.

  His boat pulls free from the shore. I don’t look back at Asphodel Meadows.

  My mother is gone. My mother is gone. My mother is gone.

  If I repeat it enough, I’ll start believing.

  The palace lurches into sight. Instead of waiting in his boat, Charon follows me off, his hand cradling my elbow until I’m safely ashore. Even then he stays close, walking in my shadow. His breath stirs the fine hairs at the nape of my neck. I swing my hair from one shoulder to fall down my back.

  “How much time remains?” I ask.

  The palace doors glide open.

  He glances upward. “Two hours.”

  I follow his gaze. Unchanging night sky. Someday I’ll ask him how he knows the time when nothing here changes. But not today. Not now.

  The servant man from before bustles through the doors. When he spots the comb, his face drains of color. He bolts back into the palace. I jog after him with Charon close behind.

  “Throne room, throne room, throne room,” I say in a whisper, hoping Hecate’s power spits us out where I request.

  I turn a dark corner to come face-to-face with the thrones. They’re empty.

  “One moment!” the man says from one of the halls that branch like tentacles from the room.

  The thrones are empty. They didn’t expect me to succeed. I suppress a smirk, squeezing the comb in my hand. Grounding. More than my feet on the stone floor or Charon’s proximity.

  “Charon,” I say. The next words stick in my throat like clinging barnacles. “I’m sorry.”

  He steps to my side. Our arms brush. I rub at my goosebumped arms like I’m hit with a sudden chill. Like his steady presence doesn’t unnerve and comfort me in equal measure.

  “For what?” he asks.

  I clear my throat. He isn’t making this easy. “All of it. Involving you and breaking our promise.”

  And lying. For all he’s revealed about himself, not once have I told him about my underwater home or what I truly am. “And,” I say.

  His head tilts toward me.

  I take a deep breath before infusing a siren song into my whisper. His song string is thick yet malleable; I ignore it completely. “Not telling you this sooner.”

  My mouth lifting in a wry twist, I let my song fall away. I don’t dare look at him.

  A flurry of steps thunder from one of the halls.

  He says nothing. Why did I expect anything else? Stupid, foolish girl.

  His hand brushes mine, knuckle against knuckle. I glance at our contrasting skin instead of his face.

  “You,” Hades says.

  I lift my head.

  Twin spots of red sit high on Hades’ sharp cheeks. His clothing is in disarray, covering only the bottom half of his narrow body. Folds twist where they ought to be straight and his sandal ties are half undone, trailing on the ground behind him. Even his hair is rumpled, clumps sticking straight upward where they should be flattened into his sleek style.

  I purse my lips to disguise a smile. He’s just been woken and tumbled from bed. They must have given up on watching me in Asphodel.

  Persephone trails behind him, bruised circles beneath her eyes. She wears nothing more than an oversized blanket. When she spots the comb sticking from my palm, she scowls.

  The servant doesn’t reappear. Watching Hades’ seething rage, I can’t help but think he’s got the right idea.

  “You had me woken up at this ungodly hour,” he says. “For what? Our bargain is final.”

  “Darling,” Persephone says, one hand jostling his shoulder.

  “No, you can’t add any more conditions. No, you won’t get any clues.” He pauses, panting. “And no, you can’t renege on our terms.”

  “Husband,” Persephone hisses.

  He throws his hands in the air, hair flying every which way. His pants slide dangerously low. “What!?”

  “She’s completed your bargain, you insufferable idiot.”

  He turns, aiming a sneering smile at her, warmth sparking in his eyes. “Don’t start. You know how I get about insults.”

  She grins, cheeks pinking. She sways into his space with one hand against his bare chest. “Fool.”

  Charon clears his throat.

  They startle, drifting apart. Persephone hides a smile behind her hand.

  Hades clears his throat, tilting his head to look down his nose. “Well? Where’s the proof?”

  I thrust my hand forward, uncurling my fingers. The comb’s faceted jewel shines luminous in the dim light.

  “You’ve actually done it.”

  I focus on his ridiculous hair and the bruising love-bite on his throat. Anything to keep from bristling, rolling my eyes, or both.

  He squints. “Are you sure you don’t have Zeus’ blood in your veins?”

  I stifle a hysterical giggle. “Quite sure. I don’t think he’d be...” I pause, shivering. “Interested if I did.”

  “True enough.”

  A heavy blanket of silence settles over us. Hades hikes his pants higher but says nothing more, expression placid. Persephone seems more preoccupied with tracing the lines of her husband’s muscles by eye than adding anything.

  Charon’s hand brushes against mine. If the others weren’t here, I’d grasp it if only for the warmth of his skin against mine.

  “When can I expect passage to Athansi?”

  Hades shrugs. On him, the casual movement is an elegant play of muscle. “You may join Persephone on her trip back in two days’ time.”

  I chew my bottom lip. “There’s room enough for both Charon and myself?”

  He strides forward three steps. Persephone’s hand on his elbow halts him. His face purples with rage. “You dare take our ferryman from us?”

  I plant my feet solid, determined not to back down no matter how my insides quiver. “We had a bargain.”

  He leans forward. His shadow stretches across the floor. “Keyword: had.” He snorts. “I won’t see Charon suffer because you need a friend in the Olympian court.”

  “Excuse me?” I say, growing louder with each word. “I’ve done all you asked and yet you dare to go back on our bargain? What of the Titan laws? They say bargains are law above all else.”

  The Titan laws were set in place by the original gods: the Titans, giant beings of untold power who vanished soon after Zeus took his throne over Prasinos. Zeus’ bargain with them at the end of the war assured so. In swearing to uphold their laws, they gave over rulership to him along with the precious knowledge of ambrosia, a drink bestowing immortality, and agreed to leave our realms behind.

  Th
ey took a chunk of the land with them when they left, leaving a gaping lake where they once dwelled in the middle of the landmass. And their laws, all that’s left behind, are followed by everyone. Mortal, demigod, and god alike are not exempt from their wisdom.

  I lift the comb in my clenched fist. My upper lip curls in a snarl. “What use are you gods if you don’t follow the laws?”

  He returns my snarl with a subvocal growl. “Watch your tongue, girl, or I’ll have it removed.”

  My eyes glow, the cavernous space clear when my vision adjusts. I suck in a shaking breath. Press my hands tight against my sternum until the comb prongs dig into my flesh.

  When I speak, each word is part of a greater song. His string is dark and dull but I coax it to life, infusing a promise of his greatest desire if only he listens. “I’m no mortal.”

  He pales. Takes a wobbling step forward. Then another.

  All at once, his string snaps. He shakes himself like a drenched bird, shifting Persephone’s tight grip off his arm. He blinks, face clearing of slack-jawed compliance.

  “A siren,” Persephone breathes.

  Charon’s short inhale is a shadow of a gasp. I’m tempted to elbow him. A pained grunt is better than silence. But why does he react at all? He already knew.

  “A siren,” Hades says. “I should null our bargain for you keeping such a thing from me.”

  “You never asked. It’s not my fault you assumed I’m mortal because I look mortal.” I quirk a sardonic smile. “Right now, anyway.”

  He bares his teeth in a mockery of a smile. Already I sense the venom he’ll weave in his words like it’s a tangible poison in the space between us.

  “King Hades,” Charon says. He gestures to the left wall crowded by columns and an archway. “May I have a word?”

  Hades freezes. He gapes first at me, then Charon. There’s the distinct sound of grinding teeth when he nods and ducks between two of the columns.

  Charon follows and doesn’t look back. Not once.

  He’ll tell Hades to break the bargain. Can I blame him? I’ve used him as a tool during my time in Nekros. My face floods with heat. I hang my head, watching them from beneath my lashes.

  Yet still, some grasping part of me hopes. Hopes he feels our burgeoning friendship. Hopes he is a better person than me.

  They speak too low to hear. Hades makes sweeping gestures with his arms while his brows go lower and lower. I imagine them merging into one solid line. A smile flickers across my mouth.

  Charon’s mouth moves, the hints of a frown along its edges, but he does little else.

  “They’re friends.” Persephone stops beside me, out shoulders brushing. Her irises are a layered green-chestnut where I first assumed them a simple brown.

  I turn to her but can’t think of a thing to say. Well, beyond a pathetic plea for help I squash down without mercy.

  “Before we married, Hades had only Charon for company.” Her smile turns brittle. “Not either of his brothers or any of the court. All those endless years where they only had one another.”

  “What about the souls?” I watch one of the many entrances. No peeking servants. They’re not the nosy sort, I guess.

  Her smile falters. “Souls deserve to rest. Even our servants work for a short time and only if they ask to work before heading to their afterlives. It’s better for them but harder for us to get attached.”

  “I see.” I pause. “And Hades cares for Charon?”

  She nods. “He wants the best for him. Charon isn’t much for politics. Gods, none of us down here are. Sending him to court is paramount to torture.”

  My stomach sinks. Not long ago, I thought the same and dismissed it as unimportant. Why didn’t I consider what Charon wanted? Why not ask him instead of working him into my bargain as nothing more than a pawn?

  But without his aid in Athansi, I’ll be without anyone at all.

  Persephone will return, true enough. Yet the history between her and the sirens stings like salt water in a wound. It’s too much for me to trust her wholly. She and Hades bear fault in how the original three sirens had their wings and immortality stripped away. To ally myself with her is a betrayal to my family.

  Hades snorts. “You’re sure?”

  Charon nods, face blank.

  With a sigh, Hades slaps him on the shoulder, hard enough Charon stumbles. He rights himself with a close-mouthed smile. They turn, Hades leading the way with confident strides. Charon follows, steps quiet but sure.

  He’s decided.

  Stomach twisting, I press trembling hands there to quell building nausea. Charon refuses to meet my glances, ducking his head low.

  “Charon has decided,” Hades says, propping his fists on his hips.

  Persephone’s stare turns heated. A smile trembles at the corners of Hades’ mouth but he flattens it, determined to be serious.

  He draws in a long breath, leaving me to stew in silence.

  “Well, get on with it,” Persephone says. “We have something to return to.”

  He grins. “Oh, something, is it? Could it have something to do with this?” He gestures a hand toward his bare torso and Persephone, gods help her, follows with undisguised heat.

  “Hades,” Charon mumbles, cheeks flushed pink.

  I’m tempted to lean in for a closer look at him. Charon—embarrassed?

  Despite my churning stomach, I smile. Charon finally returns my look. His mouth levels into a frown. His cheeks darken into a solid red.

  “Oh, fine,” Hades says. He pulls Persephone against him with a hand on her hip. “Charon decided to follow our bargain, siren girl. He’ll accompany you to court after all.”

  “My name is Agathe, not siren girl,” I say.

  His other words hit.

  Charon, kind and fierce Charon, decided to come with me. He’s willing to face the court. Why?

  He must read something in my expression. He nods. Not at Hades nor Persephone.

  At me.

  Maybe later I’ll ask him for an explanation but I think I know why.

  We’re friends. This is his way of being a true friend. A selfless friend. If only I could do the same for him. But I’ll be kind to him. No more broken promises or secrets. I swear it.

  Chapter 16

  THE EEL ROOM IS OVERLY warm. Maybe it’s the stirred embers in the hearth. Yet I think of Charon’s decision and pure heat tingles all the way to my fingertips.

  I hum, rummaging through the layers waiting on the bed. An ivory dress, clean sandals, and Bion’s leather pack. Once I loosen the drawstrings, the pack reveals an assortment of soft bread, hard cheese, and salted meat. I set the comb at the bottom beneath the bread.

  Hades waved off my attempts to hand it to him. He would send me on an errand to find a comb he couldn’t care less about.

  I roll my eyes, pulling my old dress off. Though Nyx cleaned it earlier, the folds are rough with dried sweat. Hades’ fault for having me sweat out Charon’s decision.

  The new sandals are next, my fingers clumsy on the fraying laces of the old and supple laces of the new. Not for the first time, I wish Bion here to help and see Nekros in all its odd beauty. He’d charm Charon within seconds, I’m sure. But no child should come here, living or not.

  Does my sister Eudora have a place here? Mother didn’t say, but her brain was dulled by the enchantment over Asphodel Meadows.

  Eudora’s scattered bones, stripped clean of even sinew, haunts each time my eyelids flicker closed. Burying her beneath layers of kelp didn’t help. The sea wastes nothing. Even the tiniest crabs and fish must eat.

  Shivering, I’m quick to pull the fresh dress on.

  My life in the Akri is in the past. I don’t have to think of her bones, or my mother’s bones crushed to shards by great sharks, any longer.

  But I do. I think beyond their bones. I think of Aunt, the twins, Eudoxia, and Desma. Of the children stuck beneath for years to come. Until their bodies wear out and they succumb to death.

  I won�
�t be with them. If I win my immortality, I’ll be young while their bones crumble beneath the sea. Thoughts of immortality should bring joy. All I can manage is a dim satisfaction at being one step closer.

  “There you are,” Nyx says.

  I turn, adjusting the layers of my dress, somehow startled yet not. “King Hades has granted me safe travel.”

  Not why are you here. Or what do you want. I bite my tongue until blood fills my mouth.

  “King!” She snorts a laugh. “How those brothers love to be the king of everything their grubby hands touch.”

  I hunch my shoulders, glancing at the door. “Does Hades know you’re here?”

  “Here in this room or here in Nekros?” She waves away my words before they form. “Oh, never mind. Besides, this is as much my domain as Hades’. I have ties to this place much older than his, and Erebus even older than us combined.”

  “Erebus?”

  “My husband. He spends his time sleeping in Tartarus. Good riddance. Not that Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades will ever admit so. They were too busy ignoring his transgressions by finding their own wives.”

  “But he’s not important anymore. Not if I can help it.” She shakes her head, tendrils of ebony hair whipping. “You’re good at distracting me.”

  Grimacing, I bow. “I apologize.”

  “None of that! Not now, anyway.”

  She pats at her dress, lifting it to show the underside of the fabric, a cobalt sky dotted with golden stars. A triumphant noise. She thrusts her hands forward, fingers cupped around a shining something.

  I step close for a better look.

  A circle of fluid silver drapes across her palms. A clasp sits on one side. On the opposite, a jewel unlike anything I’ve seen. I’ve seen wave-smooth, faceted, even jagged. Nothing like this flat drop of polished ink resting flush in a silver notch. Darker than ink, dark enough to absorb light.

  My hands twitch closer. I stop them halfway between us.

  “Go on,” Nyx says, voice like silk. “It’s for you.”

  “No price?”

  She grins, white teeth stark against her dark hair and darker skin. “None at all! Consider it a gift.”

  “Why?”

  She blinks, startled. “For listening to my advice. Not many do. They’re too busy listening to the Olympian court. Ha! As if Zeus has advice beyond poor seduction methods.”