The Siren Song

by Anne Ursu

  In the hallway, Mrs. Mielswetzski suggested they all adjourn to unpack, but Mr. Mielswetzski stared at her as if she’d suggested they all adjourn to cut out their own livers with nail scissors.

  “Tara! We have to pick the excursions! They’re first come, first served! The tour office told me the best ones fill up really quickly.”

  “Oh,” said Mrs. Mielswetzski. “Well, look, honey, Charlotte and I really want what you want, okay? You’re the expert here, so why don’t you pick what you think will be the best and we’ll go along?” She turned to her daughter. “Right, Char?”

  Charlotte was about to sigh heavily, but she caught herself. It was her opportunity to prove she was trustworthy, which, translated from mom-speak, meant to be a total suck-up. She could do that.

  “Right, Mom!” Charlotte grinned. “Whatever you think is best, Dad!”

  “But it’s so hard,” said Mr. Mielswetzski. “I’d better check my guide books….” He shook his head and disappeared into the bedroom.

  Mrs. Mielswetzski smiled at Charlotte. “Well, that should keep him busy for quite some time. Why don’t you unpack and then take a little tour around the ship, okay? I’m going to take a nap. The ship leaves in two hours, I think—we’ll meet up then and watch it pull out, okay?”

  “Okay, Mom.” Charlotte couldn’t believe her ears. Her mother was encouraging her to wander around by herself? No ankle bracelet or anything? This sucking-up initiative was fabulous.

  Charlotte opened the door of her room and began to look around. It was kind of neat, actually—there was a nice double bed and a little sitting area with a stereo and a TV, and a huge window that looked out on the sea. Charlotte walked over to it and gazed out at the vista before her, watching a few seagulls as they flew by. After a few minutes a maid with some kind of European accent came by to give her some weird-smelling soap (okay) and a few chocolates (yum) and to tell her there would be a mandatory lifeboat drill in two hours (weird) and to bring her life jacket.

  “My name is Bettina,” she said, “and I’ll be your stewardess. You call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Sure,” said Charlotte, eating a chocolate. “Can I have another?”

  Bettina smiled. “Of course.”

  Supplemental chocolate in hand, Charlotte flopped on the bed and began to read all the cruise literature that was in the room. She studied the map of the ship carefully and read through the room service menu (room service was free!) and looked at some of the spa offerings (not remotely free). There was a daily newsletter that had a schedule for the day, the dinner menu, another mention of the lifeboat drill, and some biographies of the crew. (The captain, Charlotte noted, looked like Santa Claus about a year after tummy stapling.) There wasn’t a lot on the schedule; the ship was going to pull out at six o’ clock, and dinner began at seven. That night there was a movie in one of the lounges and some singer performing in the Mariner Lounge on Deck Five. They would be at sea all through the next day and would arrive in Yorktown, Virginia, on Tuesday for all of your historical reenactment fun. The day at sea, the newsletter promised, would be filled with onboard activities to suit every taste.

  Right, Charlotte thought.

  There was a map of the cruise’s route, and she ran her finger up along the path as it progressed up the eastern seaboard—after the day at sea on Monday they’d stop at Yorktown, Alexandria, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Newport, and end up in Boston. (Of course they skipped New York City. Why go to New York City? That would be cool.)

  Charlotte fully intended to use her parent-free time to explore the ship, but the whole flopping-down-on-the-bed thing felt really good, and she suddenly was overcome with a wave of exhaustion. That’s what you get for hanging around old people.

  Charlotte awoke to the sound of rapid whistle bursts and the voice of God instructing her from above. No, no, not God, but the cruise captain, telling her to get her life jacket and proceed to Deck Seven. Lifeboat drill. Right.

  So she grabbed her jacket from the closet and went out of her room. The hallways were filled with old people already wearing their life jackets, which was so typical, and she followed them as they proceeded in a calm and orderly fashion up two flights of stairs to the main deck of the boat.

  The drill wasn’t much. Everyone was divided into groups based on the letter on their life jacket, and some crew member showed them how to put the jacket on, even though it was pretty obvious, and ran through the whole lifeboat procedure. While he talked, Charlotte looked at the lifeboats, which were suspended on the edge of the deck. There were big levers protruding from tall steel beams next to the boats, which Charlotte figured would lower them into the water. Good to know if this “proving she was trustworthy” thing got out of hand.

  Her parents weren’t in her group, and as the crew member talked, she scanned the crowd for them. It didn’t take long; in the group kitty-corner from hers, she saw her mother’s red head bobbing up and down, looking frantically for Charlotte. Charlotte waved. Her mother saw her and threw up her hands in a display of frustration.

  Uh-oh, Charlotte thought. She didn’t know what she possibly could have done in the past hour to infuriate her mother, especially since she’d been taking a nap. Apparently, Charlotte had now gained the ability to irritate her mother while sleeping. So much for her early parole.

  When the drill was over, Charlotte stood by the rail and watched warily as her parents approached her, but she learned rather quickly that she wasn’t the focus of her mother’s annoyance. As soon as she got within earshot of Charlotte, Mrs. Mielswetzski threw up her hands again and exclaimed, “I can’t believe we’re not in the same lifeboat!” Three other passengers turned around to look.

  “Oh,” Charlotte said, “I guess not.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Mielswetzski, reaching over and mussing Charlotte’s hair, “I guess Lottie’s going to have to survive on the deserted island without us!”

  Mrs. Mielswetzski turned to him, eyes flaring. “This isn’t funny, Michael! We have to be in the same lifeboat. What if Charlotte got separated?”

  “I can take care of myself, Mom,” Charlotte grumbled.

  “That’s not the point,” her mother snapped. “Charlotte, why don’t you trade life preservers with someone in our group?”

  “Mom!”

  “I really don’t think we’re going to need the lifeboats, Tara,” Mr. Mielswetzski said gently.

  “That’s what they said on the Titanic, Mike.”

  Just then a horn blew loudly, and the whole ship seemed to shudder awake.

  “I think we’re going,” said Charlotte.

  “Oh, let’s go to the top deck and watch,” said Mr. Mielswetzski.

  “Fine,” said Mrs. Mielswetzski, “but I want Charlotte to trade life jackets first.”

  “I can’t, Mom,” said Charlotte. “I mean,” she added, thinking quickly, “no one else is by themselves, and no one’s going to want to trade with me because then they’ll be separated from whoever they came with!”

  “Fine,” said Mrs. Mielswetzski. “I’ll go talk to the crew. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  As she and her father leaned against the rail, Charlotte had to admit that watching the Isis Queen pull out of the dock was pretty cool. She stood feeling the wind against her face as the ship slowly made its way away from the shore. Soon Mrs. Mielswetzski joined them, and they all looked on silently as they moved out to open sea. At least, Charlotte reflected, this was the one place where she wouldn’t worry that Philonecron was trying to get her.

  CHAPTER 14

  Stormy Weather

  THE REST OF THE EVENING, CHARLOTTE WORKED hard on her total suck-up initiative. At dinner she was nothing but cheerful and compliant as her father waxed poetic about the wonders of Colonial Williamsburg (for after much deliberation he had decided that would be the destination for their first excursion). There was only so long she could keep that up, though, and when dinner was over she found herself quite tired of being so pleasant. It wears
a girl out.

  “Well, what now?” asked Mrs. Mielswetzski as they got up from their table. “Should we go see the singer? She’s in the Mariner Lounge.”

  “She’s supposed to be amazing,” said Mr. Mielswetzski. “The whole crew was talking about her.”

  Charlotte and her mother exchanged a glance. It never took Mr. Mielswetzski more than five minutes anywhere to befriend the people who worked there; he always seemed to prefer them to the people he was with. Every time they went to a restaurant, he was the waiter’s best friend by the time they ordered. At a wedding last summer, he spent the whole time talking to the photographer.

  “What about it, Charlotte? Do you want to come? I think it’s fifties music tonight. That should be fun.”

  “Uh…” Charlotte said. This was difficult. She was doing her best, really, but there’s only so much a girl can pretend to enjoy herself listening to old people’s music. She might snap at any moment.

  “Well, I’m kind of tired,” she said. A flicker of disappointment crossed her parents’ faces simultaneously. “Hey, I know!” she added quickly. “What if I use the time to read some of Dad’s Williamsburg books? I could, you know, be the tour guide on Friday.”

  Her father broke out into a grin. “Oh, honey, that’s great! I’ve got just the books for you. I completely understand, it’s been a long day and sometimes it’s really nice to just…hunker down in bed with some history.”

  “All right, sweetie,” said Mrs. Mielswetzski, shooting Charlotte an I-don’t-buy-it-for-a-second-but-you’re-good-to-humor-your-father look, “you rest up. Your father and I will dance the night away!”

  “It’s fifties music, T,” said Mr. Mielswetzski. “We’re gonna twist the night away.” He grinned and right there, in the middle of the dining room, started wrenching his body around as if he were having some kind of horrible attack. “It’s not really my era, of course. Maybe they’ll have disco night and I can really show them my moves!”

  It took Charlotte some time to expunge the image of her father dancing from her mind that night, but once she did, she slept like she’d never slept before. The gentle rocking of the boat combined with the sound of the waves lulled her into a state of complete peace, without an Underworld nightmare in sight.

  The next morning, after knocking on her parents’ door and getting no response, Charlotte wandered up to eat breakfast on the terrace at the back of Deck Seven. She got a table right by the ocean, and as she sat and looked out at the waves while the sun warmed her shoulders and an extremely cute waiter brought her a stack of blueberry pancakes, Charlotte reflected that life, sometimes, wasn’t a total loss.

  Just as she was finishing her breakfast, her parents emerged onto the terrace looking sleepy and unwashed. Could they really not have eaten yet? Charlotte had assumed they’d already eaten and gone jogging and done Pilates or something, but apparently not. She’d never known them to sleep in so late before. She’d never known them to sleep in at all.

  “Phew,” said Mr. Mielswetzski, coming over to Charlotte’s table. “I think we almost missed breakfast.”

  “Man,” said Mrs. Mielswetzski, looking at her watch. “Just in time!”

  “You guys are just up?”

  “Yeah,” said Mr. Mielswetzski. “We had a late night.”

  “Sure did,” giggled Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “Oh,” said Charlotte. “I knocked on your door. I thought you weren’t there.”

  “We must have still been sleeping!” said Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “I wish you could have stayed up, Charlotte. Thalia was amazing,” said Mr. Mielswetzski.

  “She was!” said Mrs. Mielswetzski. “Captivating!”

  “Who’s Thalia?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh, the singer. She was incredible. Lottie, you have to come tonight.”

  “You do!” Mrs. Mielswetzski yawned, and then giggled again. “We were up so late!”

  “Everyone was. Everyone stayed up until the end of the show. I think she sang until two a.m.!”

  “It was like we were kids again!” said Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  Charlotte didn’t bother explaining to her mother that no kids would stay up until two a.m. listening to someone sing fifties tunes. Maybe it was the pancakes talking, but it seemed kind all of a sudden to let her parents have their little illusions.

  “So, Char,” Mrs. Mielswetzski said, sitting down, “it’s a free day today! What do you want to do?”

  “Um.” Charlotte scanned her parents’ faces quickly. She couldn’t tell if that was a we-really-want-to-know-what-you-want question or a we-want-you-to-want-to-do-the-things-we-want-you-to-do question. “Well, I thought I might hang out by the pool? And read?” She eyed her parents hesitantly.

  “That sounds nice,” Mrs. Mielswetzski said vaguely.

  “Mmmm,” said Mr. Mielswetzski.

  “Is it warm enough?” asked Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “Looks it to me,” replied Mr. Mielswetzski.

  Phew. “So, what about you guys?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mr. Mielswetzski. “We might join you. Also, there’s a lecture on Revolutionary Virginia that I want to go to, and we’ll hit the fitness club. Mostly,” he added, “I just want to see Thalia again.”

  “I know!” said Mrs. Mielswetzski. “I checked the newsletter. She’s performing tonight after dinner. She’s singing standards!”

  “Oh, good,” said Mr. Mielswetzski.

  “I can’t wait!” said Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “Oh, Charlotte, you have to come,” said Mr. Mielswetzski.

  “Really, she’ll change your life!” said Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “Uh…” said Charlotte. “Maybe.” She was a bit confused; she’d never seen her parents so excited about anything that wasn’t educational before. “Well, um, do you mind if I go? I want to go get into my swimsuit.”

  “Sure, Char!”

  “Have fun!”

  “Don’t forget to wear sunblock, Charlotte,” her mother added. “And don’t stay out too long!”

  “Right, Mom.”

  They made arrangements to meet up for lunch, and then Charlotte got up from the table and left the terrace as soon as she could. Whatever had gotten into her parents, they were letting her do what she wanted, and Charlotte was not about to ask questions. The sea air, apparently, did wonders.

  When Charlotte walked through the indoor restaurant that was behind the terrace and out onto the deck, the sun seemed to envelop her in its arms. She looked up into the sky, which was the brightest, purest blue she had ever seen. Next to her, the pool sparkled invitingly.

  Charlotte walked along the deck, feeling the sun on her face. Already some passengers had staked out deck chairs, and a uniformed waiter was walking around giving everyone ice water. Even the waiter looked happy.

  Wanting to explore a little more, Charlotte continued along the deck all the way around to the very front of the ship. The sea stretched out in front of her, and if she stretched her neck up so the railing fell out of her plane of vision it seemed like she was floating above it. She went up to the very peak of the bow and leaned slightly over the rail, feeling the wind push against her face as the ship pushed its way through the sea.

  The bridge was right behind her, lofted above the deck, and as Charlotte turned to go back she looked up through the curved wall of windows at the captain and officers working within. There were eight of them lined up along the windows, dressed smartly in clean, white naval uniforms. They were all business, studying equipment, looking off into the horizon with binoculars, scrutinizing the waters ahead. Charlotte craned her neck up to try to see more, but she couldn’t get a very good view. One of the crew members glanced down at her and gave her a discreet wave. Charlotte blushed and moved out of sight.

  She made her way back around the bridge and went inside and back down to her room. It took her all of fifteen minutes to change into her swimsuit, shellac herself with sunblock, put on a T-shirt and jeans as a cover-up, and gather
a book and her headphones to prepare for a day in the sun. Feeling generally positive about the world, she went back up to Deck Seven, not really noticing that the rocking of the ship had become decidedly less gentle, and pushed open the door that led to the outside, only to discover that her beautiful day had suddenly turned very ugly indeed.

  Black clouds had rolled in and covered the sky, and the air was gray and thick with mist. As Charlotte stood there, rain began to pour down. There was a distant boom, and then lightning flashed overhead.

  “Great,” Charlotte muttered. It would rain today. This was the only day her itinerary wasn’t going to be filled with historical reenactments, museum trips, and freedom walks. Grumbling, she closed the door and, after considering a moment, headed up to the Observation Lounge to wait out the storm.

  As Charlotte made her way up the stairs, a woman appeared at the top of the stairwell. Charlotte nearly stopped in her tracks—the woman was quite simply the most gorgeous person she had ever seen in her life. She appeared to know it too, dressed as she was in a sparkly green evening gown. Normally, Charlotte would have thought that was a little excessive for eleven a.m., but if Charlotte looked like that, she would have dressed up too. The woman was tall and statuesque, with long, shiny, raven-colored hair, creamy coffee-colored skin, and big cat-like emerald eyes. She looked like a movie star, like royalty, like both, and something about her made Charlotte feel at once attracted and repelled, like part of her wanted to go to her and learn all her secrets, and the other part wanted to turn and run.

  As the woman approached, she caught Charlotte’s gaze and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “I didn’t know they allowed children on this cruise,” she said, looking very much as if she smelled something bad.

  Charlotte bristled and narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know they allowed obnoxious people on the cruise. It was a surprising day for everyone.

  The woman and Charlotte both straightened themselves, tossed their hair, and passed each other in haughty silence.