Part of me hopes I’m wrong, but I know what draws a siren.
I walk slowly towards the docks. Still no Whitley. I walk farther north, following the water’s edge, ignoring the bright colors and chattering of the vibrant city around me, to the place we entered the harbor to find Aunt Emil.
Blond hair waves in the wind, right next to the swampy overgrowth. She sits on a rock, her feet dangling over the edge just barely skimming the top of the water. Tempting fate, it seems.
“Where’d you get the dress?” I ask, noting the new frock. Red with a big flowing skirt.
“There was a little market not far from our inn. I bought it.”
I nod. “You didn’t like your pirate fare?” I sit beside her, but don’t drop my feet off the side. I want to stay as far from that water as possible.
“I do. But a dress reminds me of the old me. Reminds me I can still be her.”
I swallow but don’t respond.
“You don’t think I can be, do you?”
I blink. “Of course I do. If I didn’t...”
“What?” She turns to me, her eyes hard. Anger simmering on the edges.
I pull back. Unsure where this reaction is coming from.
“If you didn’t think that I could be the old Whitley again, what would you do?”
“I...” I pause. “I wouldn’t keep fighting, if I didn’t think it was possible.” My stomach twists uneasily. Unsure what I’m supposed to say. Unsure what she needs to hear. “If I didn’t think there was a way for us to be together.”
She’s quiet for a while, watching her bare feet skid over the water.
“I believe there’s a way,” I whisper.
She nods. “But only if I’m not a siren.”
I bite my lip. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” My head is pounding, confusion constricting my thoughts.
“I can’t stop being a siren,” she says, and I wince. “That’s what I am now. There isn’t a way to undo it. I know that as well as I know my own name.”
Sometimes you don’t even know that, I think. Though I realize that’s a terrible thing to think right now.
“So if that’s what you need—for me to not be one, then this is hopeless.”
I sputter as she stands. I jump up, my heart racing. I grab her arm, perhaps more violently than I should, but panic is racing through my body now.
I’m supposed to confess my love. Tell her I’ll never stop fighting, no matter what. But the look on her face...
What did I do wrong?
“We were made to be together,” I say, meaning there has to be a way.
She nods quickly. “All that really means is that our powers are interlocking. Except we can’t even figure that part out.”
I wince, knowing it’s my fault.
“And I know why.”
I blink “You do?” I ask, hopeful but terrified at the same time.
“It’s because you don’t accept me.”
My breath catches. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” She won’t look me in the eye now. “I’m not what you wanted me to be, and you can’t accept it. You can’t connect with my power fully, because you pull back every time you feel it. Every time you see it in me.”
My heart aches at her words. In part because she thinks this way—that I’ve made her feel this way. In part, because it’s true. But it’s not only her power—it’s my own as well. I hate how my power pulls at me. Seeks to control me.
“You’ve always been good at hiding how you feel, Bluff. You’re good at hiding everything. But the moments you can’t hide, I keep remembering. I try to ignore it, the look on your face. I try not to picture that expression, but it’s there. Always there.”
My breath catches.
“Those are the moments the truth shows.” Tears fill her eyes, and I begin to panic. No.
“Whitley, no. It’s not— “I grip her neck, stepping close.
She doesn’t pull away but her words cut like a dagger. “You’re disgusted by what I am. It doesn’t matter that you’re the same, because you deny that side of yourself. Well I don’t. I don’t want to.”
My hand falls limply at my side. “What are you saying?” I whisper. Is she choosing to be a siren? Choosing the thirst over me? Now my own eyes are wet.
“I’m a siren, Bluff,” she says, her eyes harsh. Unnatural. Her teeth grow into fangs, and I wince. “Either accept it, or let me go.”
Whitley
I run off into the city. My heart throbs as my feet hit the ground, heavy and painful.
I can’t believe I said those things to him. I believe them, and perhaps it’s good I got it off my chest, but the truth is I’m absolutely terrified he’ll agree. I’m scared he’ll tell me if I can’t be more Whitley he’ll giving up on me.
I don’t want him to give up. I pace outside the docks, watching sailors unloading, docking their ships and shoving off, trying to figure out how I feel. How I’m supposed to feel.
Can I trust him? Does he care about me despite what’s happened? Despite the magic I cling to? I might be fine if he simply didn’t love that side of me, but hating it? Can we survive that? I don’t know.
But I do know that this magic is part of me now—it’s not going anywhere. There’s no way to save me from who I am.
I also know that I don’t want to hurt him, no matter what his feelings are.
When we first met, he saved me to save himself. He didn’t care if something happened to me, he cared about keeping my power away from everyone else.
Is it still true? My heart aches at that thought. My cheeks flame in embarrassment if it’s true. I love him. I want him. But what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if his love for me is his biggest bluff of all?
MY CHEST IS HEAVING as I stop in the alley near the tavern.
“Are you all right?” a little voice calls from above. I look up to a tiny window in the uneven brick above.
I swallow and force a smile.
“Stay there, I’ll come down!” Bingo shouts.
My teeth chatter, and I stand there and wait, unsure if I want to hear Bingo’s naïve wisdom right now. But then again, he’s the only one that makes me feel human, and I long for that right now.
Bluff
I call after her, but my feet are heavier than bricks, anchoring me to the spot. Shit.
I spit, running my hand through my greasy hair. That was not how that was supposed to go. I was right, obviously, that I hadn’t been clear enough about my feelings. I’d let my fear take over too much in how I react every time she inches towards siren territory.
And perhaps she’s right. I’m the reason we keep losing. I’m the reason we’ve only barely been able to make it out of every confrontation even though we hold immense power everyone else craves. She uses her power, and I avoid mine. I shrink away from connecting with her magic because it’s my mother’s.
Or so I thought.
If I believe my aunt’s story, then this power is something else entirely. It’s meant to counteract my mother’s. I swallow.
I’m a siren. Either accept it, or let me go.
I’m terrified of the thought that she would embrace her siren side. What does that even mean? Seducing men? Killing them? Is that what she wants?
I shiver as the image of blood running down her chin, covering her chest, bombards my mind. The look in her eye showing me just how much she liked it. Killing. Taking life.
Yes, I would have killed that sailor. But I wouldn’t have liked doing it.
I press my eyes closed. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I just don’t accept her enough as she is. Maybe... I shake my head and walk slowly back to the inn feeling heavier than I did when I left—which is saying something.
I throw my body onto the bed, face pressed into the stiff pillow, and I close my mind off from the world.
Whitley
Bingo bounds through the door of the Silver Wing and into my arms. I laugh as I pull him in. “Bingo,” I say, setting him
back down on his feet.
He looks up at me, his eyes big. His coarse hair has grown long and curly, and I ruffle it playfully. My heart is still heavy, but Bingo eases my pain ever so slightly.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asks. “This city is the grandest place I’ve ever seen!”
I shrug and I suppose he takes that as a yes, because he pulls me through the alley, deeper into the city. There is music playing joyfully in the distance, and soon we can hear lively chattering. I hadn’t had the chance to travel this deep into New Orleans yet. Or perhaps I just didn’t care to.
There is so much on my mind. I am happy for the small chance to experience this place before we leave and for the distraction.
“I’ve missed you, ya know?” Bingo tells me.
I nod and smile sadly. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “It’s fine. I know things are really hard for you, what with the siren armada after you.”
“Armada?” I ask, amused.
He nods eagerly and I chuckle.
“Are you fighting with Bluff?” he asks as we approach an open grassy area of the city, with trees on each corner. The park is crowded with people in colorful pattered clothing that is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Several men pass by carrying drums, and they pat together, creating a complex beat.
“What’s your favorite aspect of this city?” I ask Bingo, ignoring his question. I don’t want to think about Bluff right now.
“The food!” he says giddily and drags me towards a small group of people with skin matching his own. He pushes us into the group. “Two please!” he shouts at an old woman sitting on a crate, who gives him an annoyed look.
“You again?” says the old woman with grey hair and skin darker than I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are dark as well, but glistening with wisdom.
She hands Bingo some kind of meat on a stick. His eyes are wide in wonder as he turns and hands one to me. “Try it. They’re amazing!”
“What is it?” I ask as we walk away, farther down the block.
The people here chatter in languages I’ve never heard.
“It’s just chicken and pork. Try it!”
I take a small bite, pulling the meat apart with my teeth. Flavor explodes in my mouth, burning my tongue. “Wow!” I say.
“See!” he exclaims.
“How do they make it that flavorful?”
“Magic!” Bingo says, moving his hands in a dramatic circle.
We walk through the crowds, past a few dancers and musicians, and take a seat on the grass. Sometimes I forget that I’m not a lady anymore and can enjoy these kinds of experiences without reprimand.
“My real favorite part of the city,” Bingo says, as he places his empty stick onto the ground beside him, “is that there are people that look like me and don’t have to hide it.”
I look around at the gathering crowd. There are certainly more dark-skinned people in this part of the city than the parts I’d explored—which wasn’t much.
“It’s beautiful, Bingo.”
He beams, lips spreading ear to ear. I’m just happy that he is happy.
“I think you could really like it here too,” he says, looking down at his hands.
I nod. “I bet I could.”
“What about Bluff?”
“What about him?”
He purses his lips like he wants to say something but isn’t sure he should.
I sigh. “What is it, Bingo?”
“Are you going to be happy with him? Because it seems like you’re sad all the time.”
I bite my lip. “I’m sad because... well, because I’m uncertain. Because I want to be happy with him, but I don’t know if he can be happy with me.”
“Why wouldn’t he be? You’re amazing!”
I smile, but it falls too quickly. “Because I’m a siren and he thinks that makes me bad.”
Bingo thinks about this for a long time. “Does it?”
He saw the sirens in the canals back in New York, so he has some idea what they’re capable of.
“I don’t think so,” I whisper.
“Me neither.” He nods eagerly. “Besides, Bluff needs you. It’s not like he can just change his mind now.”
My stomach sinks and I press my eyes closed. That’s exactly what I’m worried about.
If he had the chance, if he had the ability—would he change his mind about me? Would he leave? Would he choose Rosemera?
How do I tell the difference between him faking, just to save himself, and real feelings? Bluff is so hard to read—that’s what his nickname means after all.
What if it’s all a big bluff now? Every kiss. Every touch. What if every moment we’re together, he’s disgusted? What if he’s just hiding it because he needs me?
I don’t want Bluff to be a slave. I don’t want be the reason his life is constant torment. But what if the only reason he’s keeping me around is to keep me from them?
Everyone has used me. Everyone has had a motive. What makes that any different than the sirens? At least the Siren Queen is up front about her true motives.
Bluff
A hand runs down my back gently, pulling me from sleep. I shift, muscles clenching in resistance. “Whitley?” I whisper, looking up to see a pretty brunette. My stomach drops, and Rosemera winces.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
I sigh and turn over to face her. “What is it?” I ask gently.
“Just checking to see how you are. One of the boys said they heard you and Whitley fighting.”
They did?
“You survived the witch, good news. But did something happen?”
I grimace. “We probably got more than we bargained for. It’s all my fault, did you know that?”
Her eyebrows pull down. “What’s your fault?”
“All of it.” I run my hand over my face. “The reason we can’t beat my mother, it’s because I’m not strong enough. Because I don’t accept her as she is and some other bullshit.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
I shrug, enjoying the commiseration, but knowing it isn’t quite what I’m making it out to be.
“It’s true though,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “You know it’s not.”
I sigh. I really don’t. But I also know there are things I can do about it, and I intend to. I won’t let my mother win just because I’m scared of being a failure.
“Whitley wants me to accept her siren.”
Rosemera makes the same face I’d like to, were I free to feel how I feel. “What does that mean?” she asks.
I take in a long breath. “I don’t know. But... I admit I’ve not been the best about dealing with her when she gives into those instincts.”
“You mean the one time you told her off and then spent weeks searching for her and saving her ass after?”
“Well, that, I’m sure. It was the first memory she recovered. Me telling her she was a monster.”
Rosemera purses her lips. “That’s unfortunate.”
“It left an impact.” I bite the inside of my lip. “And, well, there may have been an incident on our way here.”
She raises her eyebrows. “What kind of incident?”
“She killed a sailor on the ship we were on.”
Her mouth falls open, eyes wide.
“He attacked her,” I add quickly. “She reacted. And, well, so did I.”
I wish I didn’t feel these things. I wish the sight of sirens didn’t make me ill, but my mother ensured that.
Part of me even wonders...if that was done purposefully.
If my mother knew I was part of a twin pairing, or whatever Aunt Emil called it, and thanks to the prophecy, that she’d be vulnerable to becoming a siren... she could make my life as miserable as possible so I’d hate sirens. So that when she turned her into one—the key to the other half of my power—I wouldn’t be able to bind myself to her.
Everything my mother ever did to me was to drive my hatred deeper.
I clench m
y teeth and stand suddenly. “I hate her,” I spit. I’ve always been a damn pawn.
“Whoa,” Rosemera says, holding up her hands like she’s surrendering. “You love her, you hate her. Might have to make up your mind.”
I roll my eyes. “Not Whitley, my mom.”
“Oh,” Rosemera says. “Sorry lad, didn’t realized we’d changed subjects.”
I sit back down on the edge of the bed. All of this is so messed up, and I don’t know how to sort it all.
Whitley
I walk up the steps of the inn slowly, unsure what I’m going to say to him, if anything. I’m still unsure what he thinks of me, I just know I must face him at some point.
Outside the door of our room I hear a hushed conversation.
“So she expects you to, what? Give her permission to go around drowning sailors?” My heart stops. Rosemera and Bluff are talking about me?
Bluff lets out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know. I... don’t know.”
“Well, that’s fantastic. What happens if you don’t?”
There’s a pause, and my heart rate picks up.
“She leaves?”
“And becomes one of them? Gives in to the monstrous side of herself?”
“I suppose so.”
The pain that wracks my body at those words makes every muscle clench. I let out a shuddering breath, hoping to stay quiet enough to hear more. I’ve known what he thinks about sirens. About me. But to hear him say it—to hear him talk like there is no other way to be a siren than to be a monster—tells me more about what he thinks about me than I want to know. But I must know.
“But it’s not like I have a choice. If I don’t convince her... I’m screwed.”
I wince.
“It’s like an ultimatum? ‘Love me as a murderer or I’ll join your enemy and destroy you’?”
He lets out a breath. “God I hope not. I hope I haven’t lost that easily.”
Treacherous Love Page 12
