Voices of the Sea

by Bethany Masone Harar

  Beyond the tangle of weeds, Lora spotted a ramshackle home made of splintered wood. It sat alone in the woods, small, run-down and, in her opinion, barely livable.

  “Is this your house?” she asked, trying to sound up-beat, though her voice betrayed her dismay at Nicholas’ meager living arrangements.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Just park right here. There isn’t a driveway.”

  The woods created a wall around the shack, hidden from the road by tall trees, which blocked out the ocean’s music. The sounds of the birds and insects made her skin crawl. Lora longed for the sea. Shivering, she moved closer to Ryan, who put his hand on the small of her back and nudged her toward the front door. One glance at his face told Lora he shared her anxiety.

  Nicholas opened the screen door, whose hinges screamed in protest. He stepped inside and gestured for them to follow. The floors, like the exterior of the home, were made of aged, knotted wood, but the interior provided a pleasant surprise. Though it consisted of only one room, the large windows cast a plethora of light along the back wall. A bed had been pushed into the far left corner of the room, and a tiny kitchen area with a stone table inhabited the opposite corner. He’d even managed to create a living room with two large armchairs and an ancient television set. What surprised Lora most, however, were the lush plants filling every extra space. The cabin teemed with life; ferns and vines crept from the floors and ceilings, making her feel like she had entered a jungle.

  “Do you live here with your mother?” Lora asked. “I like how she’s decorated the house. The décor is different from most of the homes in Pacific Grove. Most families opt for the beach theme.”

  “I did the decorating,” he answered, but his eyes fell to the floor. “My mother is dead. She died two years ago.”

  “Dead?” Lora said. His words shocked her. “And you live here all alone?”

  Joining them at the table, Nicholas took a sip of water. “No one realizes she died. I didn’t tell the police because I figured they would make me move. I buried her in the forest. It’s not so bad being alone.”

  As he spoke, Lora glanced out of the windows which faced the backyard. It, too, teemed lush and green, complete with a small brook flowing from an unseen source.

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Nicholas, let’s not avoid the main issue here. Why do you think we are Sirens?”

  Nicholas squirmed in his seat, avoiding eye-contact with Ryan. “I guessed it a long time ago. You see, I’ve always loved mythology, and the Sirens were my favorite creatures.”

  Lora narrowed her eyes and balked at the word. “Sorry,” Nicholas said. “I’m not saying you are creatures, but . . .” he trailed off, eyes moving about the room. “Anyway, I think Sirens are fascinating, and I’ve done a lot of research on my own.”

  “Most people think those stories are just fairy tales, myths,” Ryan said. “What made you believe them?”

  Nicholas chuckled. “Well, when you live the way I do, myths and fairy tales are more appealing. Besides,” he added, sipping from an old yellow cup, “I grew up hearing about Sirens because my grandmother befriended one, so she told me they existed.” He whistled softly, as if remembering some long-forgotten memory, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “The stories she told were amazing,” he said in a breathy voice. Nicholas’ small eyes darted to meet Lora’s, and then fell to the ground. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to . . . I mean . . . I think Sirens are cool. That’s all.”

  Lora sighed. She’d be foolish if she believed no Siren ever revealed their existence to a human, but the rumination made her uneasy. Next to her, Ryan gave a loud sigh.

  “Did your grandmother ever tell anyone about us?” he asked.

  “No!” Nicholas said as he shook his head. “Never. She loved Sirens and would never have done anything to hurt them.”

  Ryan leaned forward. “And you?” he said in a deep voice. “Have you told anyone?”

  Nicholas’ mouth fell open. “Are you kidding?” he said. “I would never put Lora in danger!” His cheeks turned red with embarrassment. Lora couldn’t help smiling. His small face appeared comical beneath his anger. “Because we’re friends,” Nicholas added.

  “Right,” said Ryan with a grin as he brushed Lora’s leg with his hand. “Well, we appreciate you keeping our secret. But you said you had some information you felt could help us. And,” Ryan said, “you mentioned we were in danger. Why did you say that?”

  Nicholas took a deep breath and stood. “I’ll be right back,” he said, making his way toward a small cabinet built into the splintered wall. From it, he removed a green folder bulging with wrinkled, yellowed papers. “My mother started keeping a file when she was a little girl. Sirens were sort of her passion, too.”

  Nicholas sat down next to Lora and opened the folder, first pulling out articles printed from the Internet, and later, toward the end of the file, faded newspaper articles and hand-written letters. He spread them out in front of Lora and Ryan. Lora’s eyes glanced over the documents, taking in the history. The news articles didn’t mention Sirens, of course, but they were about her people all the same. Smiling pictures of the victims stared back at her from the wrinkled paper, their souls having joined the sea long ago. On some, she could see the Siren mark on their skin, the small wave-like crest which branded her kind. Many of her kinsmen were young, some of them children. The Sons of Orpheus showed no mercy to the innocent. Lora wondered if she had heard their voices in the last few weeks, calling to her from the ocean, warning her of the danger to come. The sea seemed so far away here, and the silence made her squirm with discomfort.

  In a child-like gesture, Nicholas sat back on his heels and rocked slowly, not taking his eyes off the clippings. “It’s such a shame,” he said, shaking his head. “All those poor people. I mean, Sirens,” he said, correcting himself. “My mother always talked about how we should help protect the Sirens, because they were precious to the world. She said Sirens were almost extinct.” With a sigh, Nicholas fell back slightly to sit cross-legged on the floor. He appeared so young and scrawny, but his eyes were very old. She’d never noticed the contrast before.

  Ryan picked up an article and skimmed the text before putting it down on the table. “Almost all of the newspaper clippings are about Siren murders,” Ryan said in a heavy voice. He examined a story from before they were born. “But they all look like accidents.”

  “Exactly,” said Nicholas. “The Sons of Orpheus are notoriously secret. They don’t want anyone to learn about Sirens, either, and they want to keep themselves a secret too.”

  “Then what about the recent murders?” Ryan said, glancing at Lora. “Why have they been so bloody and gruesome? Whoever killed Victoria wasn’t trying to hide anything. The death didn’t even appear like an accident.”

  Lora grimaced. “I don’t see anything about these victims having their vocal chords removed. Why the change?”

  Nodding, Nicholas bit at his fingernails, tearing at them with his teeth. “Yeah,” he said, taking his finger from his mouth to pick up a recent article about Victoria Thanos, the Siren Lora had found on the beach. “It isn’t their usual pattern at all. If you examine all of the other murders, no one ever had their vocal chords removed before. Maybe whoever is mutilating them is new to the area?”

  Ryan snorted. “They’re all new to the area. They killed my clan in Half-Moon Bay and made their way south to Pacific Grove.” His voice sounded full of malice, his hands clenched into fists, the pain still obviously fresh. “They certainly didn’t waste any time.”

  “Yeah,” Nicholas muttered as he sifted through the papers on the table. “I have those articles in here somewhere, too. But I’m pretty sure no one died like Victoria in Half-Moon Bay.”

  “No, they didn’t,” Ryan said, standing up to stride toward the wall of windows. He peeked out toward the richly
green woods before turning back to the table. “All of the murders in my town were regarded as accidents.”

  Lora shook her head. “I don’t understand. None of this makes sense,” she said. “Why the change now? Did someone new join them?” Her mind sifted through the possibilities. The Sons of Orpheus had deep roots. They didn’t let anyone join—only those who were truly kin of Orpheus could be part of their society, for only kin to Orpheus were immune to the Siren’s song. An outsider would be a liability, and they recognized their members from birth because they were all related in some distant way. If a member of the Sons of Orpheus lived in Pacific Grove, the Sons of Orpheus would figure out they were there.

  This left only one explanation.

  As if she had spoken aloud, Ryan and Nicholas stopped to look at her. “Someone new did join them,” she said, closing her eyes. “Someone who lives here. Someone who is familiar with the Sirens in this area. How else could they find us so quickly?” Waves of heat undulated over her body, making Lora sick to her stomach. Standing, she moved toward the door, desperate for fresh air as she felt the cabin growing smaller, like the walls were closing in around her. She needed to smell the sea, to feel its air, to hear its song beckoning to her from above the trees.

  What she suspected couldn’t be true. Could it? She tried to push the idea to the back of her mind, but couldn’t let it go. Προδότης. A traitor.

  The claustrophobia became too much to bear, and Lora burst through the door, running outside. Ryan called to her from inside the tiny cabin. Her feet pounded on the earth as she ran down the lane, then onto the dirt road, away from the house. The air remained silent, the trees serving as a barbed barrier between her and the ocean. Her feet smacked the ground, for she sprinted now, desperate to be anywhere but this sheltered area which possessed too many unwanted answers.

  The moment she felt her heart might burst from the need for oxygen, she reached the road. With it, like a pathway to her personal heaven, came the song of the sea, the songs of her ancestors, the voices which were as important as her own heartbeat. They both spoke and whispered to her through the trees.

  Ryan caught up to her at the side of the road where she stood, breathing in the smell of the salty air wafting around her. She studied him as he paused, noticing the change in the air, the familiar sounds of the ocean.

  Taking her hand, he pulled Lora close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her body. Ryan’s lips pressed against her head. “We will get through this,” he whispered, swaying to the song of the sea as he held her.

  “No,” she said, trembling. “Whoever is brutalizing our clan must be from Pacific Grove, Ryan, and who knows how much information he has about us? He could have been stalking us for years, waiting for the Brotherhood to come. How else could the Sons of Orpheus have found us so quickly? They study our habits.” She breathed in his scent, trying to gain strength from his touch, but her body continued to shake.

  “If that’s true,” Ryan said, his breath warm against her cheek, “then the last thing we should do is panic. We need to figure out a plan, figure out how we can anticipate their next move. Most importantly, we need to find out who has been watching us.”

  Sighing, Lora nodded. “If he knows who we are, if he’s been hunting us, then the last thing we should do is be predictable.” As Ryan held her, Lora raised her eyes to the forest surrounding them. It felt as if a million eyes were staring at her. Each rustle of the leaves, each snap of wood made her jump, and for a moment she was convinced the Sons of Orpheus were lurking, right there in the woods, advancing, stalking her in the bright of day. When Ryan gently grasped her arm, she didn’t resist. Instead, she allowed him to lead her back up the dirt road toward Nicholas’ house, doing her best to ignore her paranoia.

  Nicholas waited for them on the stairs, hugging his skinny legs to his chest as if they provided warmth. “Are you okay?” he called out as they approached.

  Ryan tightened his grip on her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “We’re fine,” he called back. They reached Nicholas, and Ryan said, “We need to see everything you have on Sirens and the Sons of Orpheus. Don’t leave anything out.”

  For hours they poured over his material. Most of the information was not new, or seemed unimportant. Occasionally, they discovered some new information—a name, a location, an important date—but none of it helped them discover who had been watching them. What they needed to do was find answers, and those were scarce.

  Two articles, however, caught Lora’s attention. As she discovered the first, her body became rigid while she read, intensely curious about the strange information, but heartsick from the sad story. “Listen to this,” she said. Lora read from the slightly yellowed paper. “It’s from 1999.” Ryan and Nicholas put down what they’d been reading and leaned closer. She smoothed the paper in front of her and read:

  The San Francisco Chronicle

  March 3, 1999

  The San Francisco area continues to mourn as a second family has fallen victim to a serial killer. Authorities found the mutilated bodies of the Connor family early Saturday morning in their home. Although authorities are not commenting on the exact cause of death at this time, they have confirmed all four members were pronounced dead at the scene.

  Lora took a deep breath and looked up from the newspaper.

  “This is the first article I’ve heard indicating the Sirens were murdered. All of the other deaths look like accidents,” said Ryan. He shifted in his seat and gave a cat-like stretch toward the ceiling.

  “That isn’t all,” Lora said. “Listen to the rest.”

  The police department has issued an Amber Alert for a missing child, after finding evidence that one was present at the scene when the murders occurred. Although the Connor family is believed to only have two children, evidence suggests the presence of one other minor child who may be a relative. If the public has any information on the identity of this child, please call 1-800-545-8965.

  Nicholas, who had paused during the reading, resumed his child-like rocking. “A child?” he said. “That’s pretty weird. Why wouldn’t the Sons of Orpheus have killed that kid, too? If he was a relative, he must have been a Siren.”

  “Unless,” Lora said in a whisper, “he wasn’t a Siren.” She reached out to take Ryan’s hand in her own, seeking warmth as a chill entered her body. “It’s a pretty creepy story.”

  Ryan squeezed her hand. “I wonder if they ever found the child.”

  Lora sifted through the papers on the floor in front of her, searching for a continuation or follow-up for the article, but could find nothing. In frustration, she buried her face in her hands. Despite Ryan and Nicholas’ best efforts to locate further information about the case on the Internet, they came up empty. Lora sat as close as possible to the window, pretending she could hear the ocean as she hummed a tune in her head. The file of newspaper articles, thick with aged, yellowed papers, sat in her lap. Taking a deep breath, she opened the blue folder and sifted through them again, hoping against hope one of them would provide the information she sought. She scanned page after page, searching for something familiar, some small shred of information which could help her figure out who the Sons of Orpheus were, or where they might be hiding.

  As she neared the end of the pile, Lora paused, letting her hand hover above an article printed in an unfamiliar newspaper from Coos Bay, Oregon. A picture of a young woman, very petite and pretty, caught her eye. The woman had tried to shield her face from the camera, but behind her a crowd of people appeared to pat her on the back, clapping and shouting in her direction. The discomfort on her face, however, clearly showed.

  Woman Saves Couple from Attacker

  Described as Superhero

  October 18, 1985

  A young woman saved a Coos Bay couple from an attacker in their home late Thursday night. Peter and Heather Manikopos, who have li
ved and worked in the Coos Bay area for the past thirty years, were asleep when they heard a noise downstairs in their bayside home. When Mr. Manikopos investigated, an armed man, described as approximately six feet tall with light skin, held him at gunpoint in the hallway outside his bedroom door.

  According to the victims, a woman appeared behind the attacker and chased him away with some sort of “flame thrower device.” Mrs. Manikopos could not describe the device further, other than to say the flame bloomed in an “amazing blue color.” Police are still searching for the attacker.

  The woman refused to provide her name to the press and declined an interview for the article. Police officials have not released her name to the public.

  The article continued, mentioning past break-ins in the Coos Bay area, but Lora’s eyes traveled back to the picture. She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes, trying to remember where she had seen the woman before.

  “Hey!” a voice said over her shoulder, startling her upright. “I’ve never seen that article before.” Nicholas stood behind her, craning over her shoulder to get a better view of the picture.

  Ryan rose from the computer and joined them over by the window. “You recognize her?” Lora asked, lifting the picture so he could have a better look.

  “Sure,” Nicholas replied. “That’s my mom.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ortho did not like the boy, the one from Half-Moon Bay. The Siren who had escaped the executions there.

  Of course, Ortho had not been in Half-Moon Bay to participate, which he greatly regretted, but his brothers had provided the details. All of the wonderful details.

  But still, the boy lived, and he had permanently joined himself with her. He’d seen them together, holding hands, touching one another, their actions exciting and repulsive at the same time. Although he would never admit it to his brothers, Ortho couldn’t deny his secret pleasure that the boy had escaped, for now he would have the pleasure of killing him while she watched. He could not allow the two of them to be together.