Siren's Calling (The Sea King's Daughters Book 4)

by Piper J. Drake

  Siren’s Calling

  A Sea King’s Daughters Novella

  Piper J. Drake

  Copyright © 2018 by Piper J. Drake

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products, or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please email contact@piperjdrake.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Created with Vellum

  For Pip,

  who remembered I love mermaids.

  Also by Piper J. Drake

  True Heroes series

  Extreme Honor

  Ultimate Courage

  Absolute Trust

  Total Bravery

  Safeguard series

  Hidden Impact

  Deadly Testimony

  Contracted Defense

  The Sea King’s Daughters series

  Siren’s Tide by Philippa Ballantine

  Siren’s Serenity by Stacia D Kelly

  Siren’s Curse by Katee Robert

  Siren’s Calling by Piper J. Drake

  Siren’s Surge by Lauren Harris

  Siren’s Storm by Åsa Maria Bradley

  Find more information about the series here.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Coming soon…

  About the Author

  1

  I tasted blood in the water.

  Changing course with a flick of my tail, I swam against the fast-moving ocean current toward the source. There were no vibrations in the water to indicate the thrashing of a living thing in distress and the seas were quieter than usual. Not surprising, with this much blood carried on the currents. Predators would be drawn to it and prey would be wise to leave the area or hide.

  Curious, I’d come to investigate, thinking one of the killer whale pods had taken a baleen whale. It wasn’t unheard of, though it didn’t happen often. A big kill like that would draw plenty of ocean denizens, and I hadn’t tasted whale in a long time. I wouldn’t kill one, not when I couldn't finish consuming it myself and not when so many whale species were endangered, but I wouldn’t let it go to waste, either.

  When I didn’t find anything in open water, I’d pulled myself up onto the rocky outcropping between islands and found it. The body. But it wasn’t a humpback or gray whale, not a mink or fin whale, either. It was an orca, a killer whale, and that didn’t make any kind of sense.

  Before I could take a closer look, the sound of a powerful motor cut through the morning calls of seabirds. Harbor seals lifted their heads and looked around from where they lay on another rock outcropping. A lone Steller sea lion grunted and scratched his head with a huge hind flipper. He turned to stare at me and I met his gaze, unconcerned. He was a prime specimen of a bull, the largest I’d ever encountered, but he posed no threat to me.

  The waves slapped against the rocks around my tail fin in a changed cadence. A boat was approaching, and with it, humans. They were probably whale watching, which meant every one of them would be on the lookout for wildlife. Most of them would have binoculars. I couldn’t let them see me in this form.

  I dove back into the water, darting through forests of kelp and berating myself for lingering past dawn. There was too much light and I had to dive deep to be sure nothing on the surface caught sight of even a tail flick from me.

  As far as humans were concerned, I didn’t exist. I was a myth, a fairy tale.

  If they saw me, they might not even believe what they’d seen. In their dreams or after too many drinks, they might whisper, “Mermaid.”

  And they’d be right.

  I sat in a small park at one end of Pike Place Market, people watching, enjoying the view of Elliott Bay, and pretending to be human. The kill I’d seen this morning disturbed me and I was going over every detail I could recall to pin down why. If humans and their whale-watching boat hadn’t approached, I’d have been able to take a better look. I still struggled to understand the concept they called tourism.

  Humans were odd.

  They were neither good nor bad, not particularly strong individually, yet capable of great things as a species. When I’d first arrived in Earth’s oceans from the dimension my people call home, I was amazed at the cities humans had created for themselves. I made Seattle my home, and it’d been a pleasant enough existence that I’d mostly forgotten I’d been cast out from the world of my birth.

  My smart phone rang and I considered ignoring it, but I’d taken a long lunch and it’d be better to walk back into the office having taken a call. I maintained a human life, complete with a job. Once in a while, I considered whether I’d have had more fun in the Caribbean taking tourists on snorkeling excursions, but the temptation to tease divers with my lovely true form would’ve been too risky.

  “Waters.” I always smiled when I said my surname. It was my first try at a play on words.

  “Ms. Waters. I’m Doctor Jones.” The voice was female, calm and collected, for the most part.

  When it comes to communication, there is so much more than words to tell me what another being has on its mind. Humans are no different. Inflection and cadence add nuance and reveal what may not have been intended. This woman had the tiniest bit of strain in her vocalization. She was deliberately slowing herself down. I’d need to hear her speak more to find out if it was excitement or something negative driving her to call me, a complete stranger.

  “Hello?” The woman sounded more alarmed.

  “I’m here.” Ah. I’d lived among them for a few years now, but I was still trying to get used to the human need to fill the gaps in conversation. I should’ve made some sort of acknowledging comment or even a nonverbal cue.

  “Oh, good.” Doctor Jones took a steadying breath and continued at her carefully steady pace. “I’m a field biologist conducting research on orcas in the Puget Sound and other parts of the Salish Sea. I’d like you to come out to meet my team. I’ve contacted your department and acquired permission to work with you directly.”

  Interesting. I stood and strolled over to the low stone wall bordering the park area. Elliott Bay spread out before me and a ferry boat was making its way across the cold waters. “It’s unusual to bring someone like me out to a research vessel, especially in regard to a native species. I’m just a project manager.”

  Normally, my human job was to manage various projects set in motion by the state’s Invasive Species Council. I spent a lot of my time in an office, at a desk or in meetings. The work my teams did was important, even if the average person didn’t understand how devastating a particular grass could be when it accidentally finds its way into a mud flat. But they definitely got upset when the oysters grown in the ruined mud flats are more expensive or no longer available. Invasive species of plants or animals could change an entire ecosystem. Just look at what humans had done to every continent on the planet.

  “I was told to ask specifically for you.” Desperation h
ad crept into Doctor Jones’ voice now. She might even be close to tears. “We’ll need to show you and get your thoughts without any preliminary assumptions made ahead of time.”

  Not good. I tried not to ever drive anyone to tears. Tears were too precious, carried too much power, even if humans had forgotten how to use them for anything but superficial manipulation. I attempted to pitch my voice to a more comforting tone. “I’ll meet with you and your team. I’ll have to arrange for transportation to come out to your location.”

  I didn’t own a car. There was no reason when I could walk anywhere I wanted to go on land and the city had everything I needed within a reasonable distance for my human life. If I had to cross water, well, I came from the sea and needed to return to it regularly. Crossing bodies of water was a pleasure, not a hardship for me.

  “Actually, you could take the evening passenger ferry to San Juan Island tonight. We can meet you at Friday Harbor first thing in the morning at whichever hotel you decide to stay in for a few days.” Doctor Jones had turned eager, and I was wondering if she might’ve been playing me or if she really was that mercurial with her moods.

  I didn’t mind. I spent a lot of time with the sea and no human could be more unpredictable. By comparison, the seas of the Earth were infinitely calmer than the seas of Salacia.

  “All right.” I paused and let her wait a beat. “Please email me with any information I should know in advance and whichever hotel you’d recommend. I’ll head over tonight and meet you in the morning.”

  No need to tell her I wasn’t planning on taking any ferry.

  “Thank you.” Definitely relieved, Doctor Jones ended the call without any extraneous chatter.

  I liked her better for it. When I got netted into small talk, my knowledge of human social interaction tended to fall short. I wasn’t much better with other supernaturals. Growing up in another dimension, I hadn’t been groomed in the art of conversation.

  My childhood was littered with bad memories of weapons training and combat magic. I didn’t take to it naturally, no matter what the sea witches said of my potential. Of all the Sea King’s daughters, my command of water and moon magic most closely took after my father’s. They were convinced I could be as powerful, but I never wanted to test it. I lacked a certain drive when it came to being a warrior. I didn’t have a need to win, only survive.

  There were also distinct disadvantages to what I couldn’t help sensing from my opponents. There was nothing like being able to feel the pain I inflicted on another to put a damper on any kind of lust for battle my trainers had hoped to nurture in me.

  On my father’s order, the trainers had pushed me against my nature. They’d tried to beat the drive to conquer into me. My waking moments became nightmares of focused training sessions and specialized sorties with my father’s army. Through it all, I tried to please my father, tried to be what I wasn’t. But I failed to become the genius war commander he’d wanted me to be and finally, he told me he’d given up on me.

  So he sent me here, back to this dimension. There are a handful of my sisters here in this world, though we are spread far. We each made our own lives here. I applied myself to rescuing the ocean habitats threatened after centuries without stewards to champion them. It was a vocation in which I took pride.

  I was my father’s daughter, and the Sea King had plans for me, even after I’d failed him. It was probably going to be a few decades before he got over the initial disappointment. I wasn’t what he’d hoped I’d be, but I still did my best.

  I waited until full dark before I headed back to the waterfront. Downtown Seattle was well lit, but all I needed was a moment of quiet and access to the water. I jogged down the steps from Union Street and First and crossed to Waterfront Park, next to the aquarium.

  It wasn’t a horrible place, as such sanctuaries go. I passed through once in a while, to check on the animals raised there.

  When I say I passed through, I mean I slipped by quickly and didn’t linger lest I overly upset the animals I was checking on. Dual-natured supernaturals like me had an affinity for animals, sure, but prey is prey. No prey animal in its right mind would be comfortable around me. Orcas were the apex predators in the waters of the Puget Sound and even they gave me respect.

  The creatures in the aquarium reacted differently to me than they did to humans, even the louder ones who rapped their knuckles on the tanks and demanded things. When I was in the building, the giant Pacific octopus turned white with alarm. Salmon darted about and almost leapt out of their habitats in an effort to evade me. The wolf eel hid deep in his crevice in the big tank. I became conspicuous to those who paid attention to such things, and it would be better for the return of mermaids to Earth’s oceans to remain a secret. Better for the others to think I was a water sprite of some kind.

  There weren’t that many supernaturals who frequented the aquarium. Werewolves disliked the hectic crowds that challenged their self-control, and there were too many windows letting in daylight for vampires to wander freely during the business hours. Ghosts came through, but they didn’t try to haunt me. There was at least one lesser fae caring for the aquarium and the surrounding area, using her magic to keep the tank glass algae-free and the buildings clean, but she didn’t mind me. Perhaps it was because I remembered to leave a bit of bread and honey-sweetened tea in the café for her whenever I made my quick visits.

  “The overnight biologist is doing his rounds, sea-born.” Her sweet voice came to me in the darkness, a bare whisper with a hint of chiming silver bells. She never named me, either by my chosen name or my nature. Having her call me by my origin was safe enough, even if I’d been born in the seas of another world. “You should go before he sees what he should not.”

  “I will be stowing my bag under the seawall.” I didn’t look for her in the shadows around the aquarium buildings. She might not be one of the noble sidhe, but her magic was powerful in its own way. She had survived a long time in the city because she could remain hidden no matter how good a hunter you were.

  I moved to the ladder on the edge of the pier, sheltered from view of the streets by the aquarium itself. She surprised me by responding.

  “I will not tidy it away.”

  I smiled, a gentle, close-mouthed smile. I didn’t thank her. The fae, in particular, could take an expression of gratitude and make more of it than the speaker’s original intention. I would bring her back a sea treasure instead.

  I climbed down the ladder quickly, slipping through the darkness to stash a waterproof bag with a spare set of clothes so I’d have a clean set to change into on my return. The seawall was new and a fair bit of thought had gone into it. Humans had created it with habitat benches to provide hiding and foraging places for aquatic denizens who needed the simulation of shallow waters. Depending on the tides, these seawall features were exposed or submerged. Quickly, I stripped and stuffed those clothes in my cache, too, keeping only my diver’s knives on each arm. My natural form’s claws and razor-sharp fins provided me with natural weapons but I never went anywhere on land or in the water in my human form without added weaponry. It was just common sense.

  Finished stowing my clothes, I secured my bag under one of the habitat benches below even the low tide line, where no human was likely to stumble upon it. I kept a second waterproof backpack, sleek and small, with me. It had my clothes for this upcoming meeting.

  Enough preparation.

  Bay water splashed up my legs and the rough rocks under the pier bit into the skin of my human feet. Salt stung where my skin broke, but I welcomed it. I didn’t like pain, but I savored the touch of the ocean in any of the ways it came to me.

  It took mere moments to slide into the waters and make my way through the shallows, using the shelter of the pier to hide me from sight until my form would be lost in the night-dark waters of the bay. Once I was clear of the pilings in deeper water, I dipped under the surface and shed my human form.

  The magic of my change swept through my body i
n a cold, bracing wave, leaving my true self floating deep below the surface in its wake. My body was longer, with blue-green scales starting below my waist and continuing over my hips to my powerful tail. A sharp line of fins rose from my back, following the line of my spine. I touched my claw tips to my pendant, a habit and a reassurance. The larimar stone bound in silver was a focus for my power and I always wore it. Then I stretched in the water, enjoying the freedom and strength of my shape.

  My transformation didn’t take long. It couldn’t. The ocean doesn’t give much of a grace period to any of her creatures, not even me.

  Mermaid.

  Human legends whispered stories of my kind, giving us multiple names. Siren. We called ourselves merfolk. We were myths, fairy tales, and to humans, we didn't exist. Our kind had fled these oceans centuries ago, so in some ways, the humans were right. But we had returned, my sisters and I, to find a way to bring our kind back from the other world to this one.

  Eventually. We each had to make a place for ourselves first, to learn what we could and be sure the seas here would be ready to welcome our kind. The oceans had suffered under the stewardship of humans. I hoped to do better on this mission to make up for my failure in my father’s armies.

  I swam, slowly at first, enjoying the slide of water over my skin and tail. My eyes adjusted, giving me better vision than human eyes could. Elliott Bay and the Puget Sound were nutrient and plankton rich, though, and the waters wouldn’t be as clear as in other parts of this world. I found my way with more than sight, relying more on sound and the feel of minute vibrations against my skin.