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

by Piper J. Drake

  Schools of fish darted away in a panic as I passed, and because I give in to instinct sometimes, I picked off a struggling, sick fish and ended it, clean and quick. I was a predator, after all, and part of my place in the balance of things was to thin the population of prey animals. It kept the ones that survived healthier, stronger. My empathy helped me better identify the suffering, and I could deal with the pain of their death knowing it’d been a mercy.

  Every sea has its own symphony, based on the rhythm of the tides and waves against the shores and the creatures living there. I’d fallen in love with the Puget Sound’s songs. Like the harbor seals and sea lions, I spun and turned in the currents, dancing to the various refrains I could hear under the surface. I could reach speeds faster than any orca, if I chose, but I reveled in the happiness of swimming free and took my time heading north.

  When I’d first arrived through the portal from my Salacia to Earth, sent by my father, I’d watched from the dark waters of Elliott Bay until I’d found a human I wanted to emulate. It’d taken a while, watching the humans rush along the waterfront. But then I saw her, dancing on the edge of the walkway with only the moon and the streetlights framing her form. Her skin had been the color of scorched wood polished until a hint of golden hue came through. Her hair had been long, falling down her back. She’d moved to the rhythm of a percussionist beating on a plastic bucket nearby and with the grace of kelp forests swaying in the currents.

  I took her form but kept the main features of my face, my higher cheekbones and wider-set eyes. On the few occasions I saw her around the city, we smiled at each other, and her student friend whispered, “Doppelganger.”

  She only shook her head and nodded at me. “Sister.”

  She isn’t, not really. I have sisters and none of our human forms look alike. But I nod back to her. If she fell into the water, and the ocean tried to take her, I would swim to save her. Because she hears the music of the seas. We are kindred souls, if not kin.

  I’m sentimental that way. Softhearted. Another reason I couldn’t be the warrior my father wanted.

  Tonight’s concert changed mid-chorus and I paused in my frolicking to listen with interest.

  There was a song in the water, new to me. It wasn’t whale song, nor the sounds of other mammals in the ocean. It had a deep bass to it, dark, pitched to a flat note. Sad, maybe, but there was a strident tone to it, too, raw. I shivered.

  Not afraid. No. But I was unsettled. I always found it amusing, really, how many city dwellers thought of the wilderness as peaceful and quiet. Oh, there was a balance and peace in some moments, but there was always a wealth of sound.

  Whenever you go into the wilderness, whether in the sea or on the land, don’t just take in the sights. Listen to your surroundings if you want to survive.

  I swam on, using powerful strokes of my tail fins to move me through the currents. The odd song faded, moving out to more open waters, and I relaxed. Whatever it was, it might have been transient. I didn’t need to go looking for it.

  Instead, I picked off another fish. Sated and free of the mood I’d been carrying earlier, even if I hadn’t realized I’d been brooding, I set my pace and headed for the San Juan Islands through the nighttime seas. I slipped through the currents, enjoying the way the seaweeds and even the moonlight danced beneath the surface in time with the rhythm of the waves and tides.

  It was a beautiful night, and I was in my element.

  2

  Come morning, I sat at a small, square table in the outdoor seating area of the hotel restaurant, enjoying the view of the harbor and the feel of smooth pebbles under my feet. I’d already decimated an excellent three-egg omelet with cheese and smoked salmon. The chocolate croissant was a beautifully flaky, buttery, golden thing of perfection, so I was taking more time enjoying it. Really, I enjoyed fresh seafood as much as anyone might think one of the merfolk would, but humans did amazing things with what they called baked goods, and I enjoyed them whenever I thought I deserved a treat.

  I considered the chocolate croissant an advance for whatever was about to swim across my course in the coming day. I had a gut feeling I wasn’t going to be delighted. I sat out in the open to make it easy for Dr. Jones’ team to find me.

  It’s funny. Several of my human colleagues tended to jockey for their preferred seating in public places, especially for lunch meetings or happy hour. Some talked to me about their need to know and see every exit to a place so they could leave if they felt unsafe. So they have an escape route. Others talked about a need to have their back protected and still be able to see the various ways potential threats could come in or out of the room and face them, if necessary.

  The former was prey behavior, from my perspective, and I experienced the impulse to continually test them for further weakness after that. I’m unsettling for them, and maybe it wasn’t the best way to blend in with the humans, but it’s in my nature. Besides, it was fun, and I have a streak of mischief I’m not ashamed to acknowledge.

  The latter behavior was more defensive, less defining as prey—though a large prey animal could be defensive and even dangerous when cornered, so choosing to fight rather than flee didn’t exclude a creature from being prey—but my human colleagues’ commentary still revealed them as vulnerable to me. They relied heavily on their sight. Fine. Sight was important to some.

  But light was only available in the ocean down to around 200 meters before plunging all of us into twilight. From there, the deeper one swam, the faster the light faded to forever midnight. There, creatures used their other senses even if they generated light of their own. Sound carried through water and even taste could give me hints of what might be nearby. My skin in my mermaid form was more sensitive in certain areas, allowing me to detect movement or vibration, as well as pressure gradients in the water around me.

  I didn’t have quite those enhanced advantages on land, in human form, but I still remembered I had other sensory input at my disposal. I knew how to make the most of them. So there I sat, awash in stark sunlight as a salt-kissed breeze lifted my hair, listening and breathing in the scents around me.

  He was cautious when he approached.

  Smart man…or, well, he was definitely male. He was not, however, a human. I was mildly surprised when he stopped in front of my table. There were plenty of supernaturals in Seattle, but I hadn’t expected there to be many here on the San Juan Islands. Foolish of me, maybe. I planned to revise my assumptions. A small harbor town could’ve been a good place to blend in. Then again, this male wasn’t one of the types of supernatural beings I encountered generally.

  His looks were striking, all dark hair and eyes contrasting with pale skin, though he had the ruddy complexion of someone who worked outdoors most of the time. He was fit, his musculature not overly defined or bulky. A man who worked hard through the day and didn’t have or didn’t choose to spend his free time sculpting his physique. He was rough around the edges, and if I tasted his skin, he’d be dusted in sea salt. He was very, very attractive in many ways.

  “Amae Waters.” There was no question in his tone. He was looking specifically for me, apparently, and not afraid to do so. “I’m a part of Dr. Jones’ team. I thought it best to meet you ahead of the rest. Do you mind if I sit?”

  I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. It wasn’t a bad idea for the two of us to get any necessary understanding in place if we were going to need to be in contact for more than a few minutes. I wished, momentarily, that we’d met in the water. There was something familiar about him, and I couldn’t quite figure out what. The thought slipped past me, elusive, like a tiny fish darting for cover in shallow waters.

  Instinctively, I could recognize another supernatural, but I leaned heavily on my knowledge of history to identify exactly what he was. I’d been a scholar since childhood, taking in the stories of our kind passed from storyteller to storyteller. Once I’d arrived in this world, my favorite places to visit aside from the oceans were the libraries established by huma
ns. Folklore, myths, and legends—even their religions—were captivating to me. The cumulative knowledge from my studies gave me the clues to piece together what this male was.

  “You could always join me for breakfast if she isn’t interested.” An older-looking woman lifted a mimosa in a toast to him and shot me a nasty glance.

  I smiled, not even bothering to show my teeth. She was harmless and it was part of his particular charm to attract human females. There were legends of lonely fishermen’s wives shedding tears into the waves to summon a selkie lover. Here he was, and I hadn’t had to give up any precious tears to meet him. I also didn’t want what she wanted.

  Not to say the thought wasn’t crossing my mind with him right here in front of me. Wow, I didn’t even know his name and he had my interest.

  For his part, he flashed the woman a rakish, lopsided grin. “Thank you. Maybe another time.”

  Then he pulled out the chair next to mine and seated himself.

  My smile faded as I watched him warily. He could’ve chosen the seat opposite me. There wasn’t a need to come closer.

  “The appearance of us together will make for fewer interruptions.” He gave me a quick, more sincere smile.

  Fine. I’d allow it for now. Selkies were interesting and had a respect for the oceans. His nature was enough to win a bit of extra leniency from me.

  “I’m Keegan Boots.” He met my gaze long enough to introduce himself, then looked away before his direct eye contact could be interpreted as a challenge.

  He had experience with other predators, supernatural or otherwise. Werewolves could get so tetchy about eye contact. Vampires were pushy but their powers over the mind didn’t affect me.

  “What do you want to talk to me about?” He knew my name already, so I wasn’t really sure how to complete the pleasantries. I wasn’t pleased to meet him, really, so the standard response didn’t apply. I also never said something I didn’t mean, ever, if I could help it. I’m capable of lying, but I’m very bad at it.

  “I don’t think this is going to be a short consultation, Ms. Waters.” He didn’t flinch at my abruptness, which was points for him, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes that scratched at my temper. “Dr. Jones is going to take you to look at a carcass and ask you to help us find what killed it.”

  I scowled. “There are experts to call in for that.”

  He nodded. “I convinced her to call you.”

  “That makes no sense.” And it was a threat to my appearance as a normal office-working person. Handsome or no, he was quickly becoming my least favorite person of the day.

  “It was necessary.” Keegan Boots leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You handle invasive species. Nothing from this era, maybe this world, ripped into this killer whale. Something is hunting the Puget Sound, and it’s going to wreak havoc on the creatures that are actually supposed to be here. Besides, you’ve already seen this kill—and I was there when you found it.”

  I considered killing him, right there in broad daylight and on land.

  He’d seen me in my true form and knew me to be merfolk, while every other being in this world—aside from my sisters—assumed me to be some type of water sprite. I needed to keep my existence here a secret and it was easier to eliminate a threat than rely on trust.

  For his part, he was watching me warily, his posture relaxed but I was willing to bet he was ready to move if I charged him.

  “This new predator is more important than one legend come back to life.” He tipped his head to indicate me.

  I considered his words, and I wanted to know how much he thought he knew about me. If he knew about my sisters, my portal, then his life was forfeit. There could be no lenience. “What do you think you know?”

  He leaned forward, well within reach. Ballsy. “I know the ocean, and there’s been changes along the coasts of this continent. I know mermaids existed centuries ago, just like my people. Both our kinds faded in the memories of humans, and we had reason to. We were both hunted by them.”

  I laughed quietly. The human lady at the table nearby shot a nervous look my way and sipped her mimosa, probably to hide her discomfort. My laugh hadn’t been a cheerful sound, and she would do well to stay away from the water for a while. My kind had dragged whole ships down to the ocean floor, drowning human sailors and feeding on them.

  Hunted? Me? I wouldn’t disregard the possibility—but I could guarantee anything that tried would find themselves in a fight for their lives.

  Keegan Boots let his voice drop lower. “They aren’t stronger than us but they breed faster and they are like ants, willing to sacrifice countless lives to get what they want. How many bodies do they need to throw into the water to obtain one bite of mermaid flesh for the chance of immortality?”

  I stopped laughing.

  The stories warned of human greed. Legends and epic tales recorded the lengths humans would go to in search for eternal youth. What Keegan Boots said was valid, even if humans should be careful what they wished for.

  “Cursed. They would be cursed if they tried.” They also wouldn’t live forever. Tides take them, even I wasn’t immortal. I only lived a very, very long time. A bite of my flesh would doom them to a long life in agony. Every step on land would be like walking on razor blades and needles. They wouldn’t be able to speak for the strain in their throats to utter any sound. The legend of mermaid flesh granting immortality was a fool’s quest.

  “Humans continually prove they’re willing to curse and be cursed.” He winked, mischief sparking briefly in his eyes before his expression turned serious again. “I will keep your secret. You have my word. This situation with the killer whales matters more.”

  Perhaps. I didn’t trust him, but I could always kill him later. It was paramount for me to keep my existence a secret. Otherwise, any number of beings would be after me. Even if they didn’t want a literal piece of me, capturing me gave them control over my portal, and I couldn’t allow that. My sea portal would give them access to every one of my sisters, other worlds, and the Nexus Portal, which could give them access to Salacia. It wasn’t our origin but my people lived there now, and I’d been born there.

  I’d die before I allowed others a way to any of those things. But for now, this male was here, and I wanted to hear more of what he had to say.

  “Talk, then. Tell me about the orca.” I kept my expression neutral, squelching the pang of sadness for the unknown sea creature.

  Orcas—killer whales—were exceedingly intelligent and hunted in numbers. They were an advanced species in the oceans, with complex social behaviors. Beyond all that, they were truly noble. Loyalty, family, and love were real when I looked at orcas. It wouldn’t have been easy to murder one.

  “You’re sure it was nothing man-made, meant to appear as if a wild thing did this?” I hadn’t gotten a close look before, so I wasn’t sure why I suspected such a thing. Maybe it was because humans were often the only reason an apex predator could fall from its position in the ecological balance of a region.

  “I’m sure.” Keegan paused, then shifted to slouch casually in his chair. The movement brought him even closer to me. Heat pulsed off him, warming my shoulder even through the fabric of my blouse. Shape shifters did tend to run hot. I’d noticed it with werewolves, too. Not that I’d been around many, and the circumstances hadn’t been anywhere close to as genial as this meeting of supernaturals was turning out to be.

  “All right.” I thought he might be playing games with me. Seals and sea lions enjoyed frolicking in dangerous waters sometimes. At least the daring ones did. “So why do you need me?”

  “Because I don’t recognize what this is, either.” A note of frustration tinged his words, and maybe a hint of sadness as well.

  “Orcas are not likely to be your favorite animal.” Some communities of orcas, mostly the transient pods, made their meals off migrating seals.

  He snorted, a sound full of male arrogance. “They aren’t likely to catch me.” He pau
sed. “Something with an appetite for orca could also decide to taste me. It’s never good news when a greater killer swims into the Puget Sound.”

  “Mmm.” I mostly agreed with his statement. I imagined there were plenty of sea creatures upset by my arrival in the Puget Sound, too. The sea had been tense, waiting for the first season or two as everything watched how I made a place for myself here. As much as I tried to keep my nature ambiguous among the supernatural community, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the selkie had recognized I wasn’t simply a water sprite. “I don’t kill often.”

  He nodded. “And only the old or sick. You help keep the balance. I’ve been watching. It’s why I wanted to work with you to assess this newcomer.”

  Funny the way he put it. He came across like a caretaker, someone responsible for maintaining the delicate balance of things. It was traditionally a job for merfolk.

  But to be fair, my people had left this world centuries ago. Perhaps selkies had taken on the challenge.

  He was interesting to me, this Keegan. I tipped my head to one side and studied him. He exuded confidence and challenge but his ego wasn’t obnoxious or overbearing. He was secure in his strength yet he was asking me for help.

  He needed it.

  A new predator in the seas was a serious concern. There were less than a hundred orcas left in the resident community, and the transient community was harder to track. It was almost impossible to count the offshore community, but that made things more dangerous for orcas. It was easy for humans to think there were plenty left in the world if it could be assumed they were out there somewhere. But to me, the idea of something killing off an important part of the ecosystem was potentially devastating.

  “All right.” I could spend more time with him, looking into this. I should. But I shouldn’t want to as much as I did. Acknowledging that part irked me. I did just fine alone.