Siren's Song

by Trish Albright

  Koto nodded, still not understanding, for that explanation was even stranger.

  Had he not been up with the sun, he might have missed it. The rising light catching something on the water and reflecting out. Bursting with hope, Joshua shouted to alert the crew and call to the men.

  They all looked and saw nothing. Only the reflection of sun on water. A pretty illusion for the hopeful. Joshua knew what they thought. That he was tired, stubborn, afflicted with grief. Hell, he was. But this was something else. Stronger than just light on water. Every instinct told him so. The others on their accompanying ships looked out. They were sailing in a formation to stay together, but also cover as much water as possible in their search. Joshua continued to look out in the direction he had seen the light. Samuel joined him. Standing quietly, not judging. Perhaps as hopeful as he.

  Minutes passed and none dared speak, though whispers had begun that it was nothing. Joshua wouldn’t look away. He wouldn’t risk that one instant. An hour later, Joshua was the only one remaining.

  He might have missed it again, his eye aching so much from the glare. But this time they were closer. He was certain. A light shot out on the water.

  There were gasps. “There!”

  Joshua’s chest filled with air. “There! Did you see?”

  Suddenly it came again. Methodically.

  Mick joined them. “It’s a distress signal.”

  “Wait.” Samuel had rushed to join him and was watching it clearly now. “She’s using the astrolabe.” His eyes filled with hope.

  “It could be Paxton.” Joshua voiced the other possibility, but Samuel grinned and shook his head.

  “No. No, it’s my sister. That’s a uniquely Stafford pattern. Only our captains use it. Same with bells and whistles. It’s Alex.” He slapped Joshua’s shoulder. “I’m sure of it.”

  It wasn’t long before they also began to hear a ship’s bell in the distance. A steady ring commonly used to indicate a need for help, but for Stafford’s every fourth issued a double ring. Samuel was certain Alex had reached friendly help and had told them to do this.

  The bell continued all day until they reached the ship. The Staffords surrounded a vessel called Freedom, its crew and passengers looking out at them from dark faces with worry and distrust. That’s when Joshua discovered that Samuel had been entirely wrong.

  Chapter Thirty

  She was drifting. At some point Alex knew the wounds on her back were festering. She slept on and off, waking sometimes during the night to complete blackness except for the stars. That’s when she felt most lucid. She would call out to the ocean or sing loudly to break the monotony, until her parched mouth begged for moisture. Then she would collapse again into a tortured sleep. She called to Joshua but he never answered. She could see him looking right at her but he never seemed to see her no matter how much she waved her hands with frustration.

  What had she done? The image of the Sea Fire aflame taunted her. The sound of flames consuming wood and sail thundered in her ear along with imagined cries of innocent men. She was going to suffer slowly, then go to hell. She knew she didn’t deserve a miracle, but she prayed for one anyway.

  The crew of Freedom stood alert at the side of their ship. They had spotted what their captain seemed to be searching for, but he looked none too happy about it.

  “It be a woman, Cap’n!”

  “Aye,” their captain nodded, seeing the long hair strewn about, covering the face and parts of the body. Some of the men jumped in the water and swam to the longboat, tying ropes to pull it alongside the ship. The captain released his tight grip on the rail, and lowered himself over the side, slowly boarding the smaller one as if afraid of what he might find.

  Koto joined him to help in case the woman was alive.

  The captain moved carefully, his first touch tentative at the throat, and then he breathed deeply.

  “She’s alive,” he said, only loud enough for Koto to hear. Koto shouted the news back to the ship and told them to get a shroud they could use to bring her aboard.

  The captain pulled her hair carefully aside, touching the black material that stuck to her back with tender care to inspect. They both recognized the fierce wounds on her back, blood dried in spots, other spots cracked and oozing infection. Koto gasped. If she lived, she would be scarred something awful. His captain pressed knuckles to his mouth, as if fighting for control.

  The woman was in bad shape all around. Her legs were scraped and burned from exposure to the sun. The little bit of her face not covered by hair showed dry, cracked lips. She was skinny, young, and no doubt suffering from lack of water. Koto did not think she would live.

  Gently, the captain turned her over, careful not to put pressure on her back injuries, while cursing inwardly that it was impossible to avoid it. He swallowed painfully as the delicate face was revealed. Still so young. Her hair more red than brown. The delicately arched brows were the same despite the sunburned face.

  “My child,” he choked, his heart shattered by this sight. “What have they done to you?”

  He pushed away the heat in his eyes and focused on one thing. She was alive. That was all that mattered at the moment. She groaned, and he comforted her that she was safe. That she would be well. Her lids fluttered open, as if she struggled to wake up, and he saw the expressive deep green eyes fill with pain as she tried to focus, followed by a gasp when she tried to move.

  “It’s okay, Allie. I’ve got you.”

  His harsh voice got her attention, and she seemed to try even harder to force her eyes open. Her focus cleared and slowly recognition lit her face. A small, slender hand came up to touch his cheek and he covered it with his own, his heart skipping a beat when she spoke with both clarity and a hint of surprise.

  “I’m dead then.”

  Then she fell into unconsciousness.

  “You know her, Cap’n?” Koto asked him, the man’s face mirroring astonishment.

  “Yes, Koto.” He wiped the moisture that spilled from his eyes, and explained. “She’s my daughter.”

  From across the rails, the crews eyed each other.

  “Careful, Joshua. They don’t look overly friendly,” Samuel warned. Mick grunted agreement.

  “I’m going over.” Joshua left the two men staring as he climbed the rigging to midlength on the mast.

  “What are you doing?” Samuel shouted.

  Joshua grabbed the line and freed it. “What Alex would do!” He gave a pull to test the strength, then jumped, swinging out and over the water, just high enough to cross the side of the other ship. Men scattered to give him room to land, and stared with undisguised shock.

  “Hey! Send that rope back!” Samuel didn’t want to be left behind.

  Joshua was quickly surrounded, as much with curiosity as threat. He identified their leader, a tall, well-developed African with skin as black as night, holding in his hand a familiar medallion reflecting the sun. He eyed it, then the man, and held up his hands to show he meant no ill will.

  “I’m looking for the owner of that. A woman with long, red hair. Her ship went down two nights ago.” He was about to explain more, when all eyes turned to something behind him.

  “I’m the captain here.” The voice was low but full of deadly anger.

  Joshua turned to a man his height. He frowned at the familiar face and brownish-red hair, then gasped.

  “You’re a Stafford.”

  The man nodded, not showing surprise at the acknowledgment.

  “I’m looking for Alexandra Stafford.” It was all he could manage, a terrible premonition beginning to settle in around his chest.

  “I’m Robert Stafford.” The man turned and walked to the captain’s quarters, thrusting the door open before adding furiously, “You’re too late.”

  A white sheet was pulled over the body, up to the edge of tangled, red hair, strewn off to the side. Joshua’s very being felt ripped from him with one sharp strike.

  “No.” He rushed to the bedside. �
�No!” he shouted, pulling the sheet away.

  What he saw stopped his heart.

  He inhaled, falling to his knees. “Alex.” Trembling, he reached out toward her neck, afraid to touch her skin. Terrified of the cold he might discover. The cold, hard skin of death.

  He touched. Oh God. Cool. Slowly he stroked down toward her throat and pressed at her pulse point. Hope and surprise made him look up at the other man. Into dark, glittering strangely familiar eyes filled with fury—and pain.

  “She’s alive,” Joshua said.

  “Barely. Something’s infected. I can’t find it.”

  “We have a doctor,” Joshua rasped. He couldn’t halt the emotion as he looked at the woman he loved. Her back was raw, skin ripped away in spots, deep gashes dug lines to the bone, and swelling appeared in areas that could be healing or infection. One hand was set from palm to elbow with a length of stick and wrapped carefully to avoid what was left of her wrist and hand, the skin badly shredded.

  “Are there any other injuries?”

  “No major breaks. I cleaned splinters from her right arm and parts of her back. We salted the wounds best we could. She was conscious only a moment when we found her.” He finished and gave Joshua an intense, penetrating look of pure hostility, before continuing. “What I’d like to know is who the son of a bitch is who did this, and why you weren’t there to save her?”

  Before Joshua could defend himself, there was a shout for the captain on deck.

  “You better go before one of the Staffords get into a fight.”

  Enough time with the family had made him cynical. “Not much time left, by my account.”

  The man’s expression was wry. Some of his anger faded, leaving only sadness. “Not the reunion I hoped for.”

  Robert Stafford returned to the deck. Weary. Afraid for his daughter and certain nothing could touch his heart. The expressions of his crew when he arrived told him otherwise. Their mouths dropped as they looked from him to the giant in their midst, then back to him. He knew his eldest in a way every parent knows their first born.

  “Samuel.”

  Samuel froze. Then slowly turned—and swallowed. Samuel was the one who never needed an explanation. In three long strides, his son reached and embraced him. Robert held.

  “Father.”

  There was a shout from below. Matthew was sending over supplies. More calls from the other ships indicated that people wanted to know what was going on. He instantly recognized the man swinging onto deck as Stephen.

  Matthew was the last aboard, preferring to climb the traditional way, not willing to risk his physician’s hands on foolishness. For that Robert was relieved. Matthew’s greeting was cooler, wanting answers, but knowing this wasn’t the time.

  “Are you injured?” Matthew kept to basics.

  Robert shook his head. “But—” He looked at his boys assembled around him. “I found your sister.” His eyes filled. “You must prepare yourself.” He looked to Matthew for help and his son nodded, a mask of cold control easing itself into place.

  Joshua wouldn’t leave Alex. She remained unconscious, but he continued to hold her good hand while Matthew worked methodically on her injuries. Joshua only started to worry when Matthew started swearing. And kept swearing.

  Now covered in a good amount of blood, Matthew pushed between muscle around Alex’s shoulder and demanded light. He swore some more and made a dozen more orders.

  “She was shot. No surprise missing it in this mess,” he choked. He pressed down and discolored infection oozed out. He started swearing more, panic evident on his face. “It’s to the bone.”

  “Clean it,” Joshua said.

  “It’s not that easy. The bone—”

  “Take the bone too. I don’t care. Save her.” Joshua would not let him give up.

  Samuel put a hand on Matthew’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. Matthew nodded, his face assuming control again. It was hours of work. Removing the remains of the shot, absorbing the toxins already manifesting, scraping at the bone in hopes of preventing a fatal infection. Then, trying to find fresh skin to sew her back together. Through it all Alex remained abnormally still, causing Matthew to voice worries about possible injuries they could not see. The room became hot with all their combined worry. Joshua also noted that Alex’s temperature had risen. They were keeping her cool with a constant change of dampened cloths.

  Nothing made a difference. Alex was fading away. It was palpable.

  Joshua read the fear on all their faces. He knew the same fear was likely expressed on his, as he desperately willed her to live. “Fight, Alex. You’ve fought for everyone else. Fight for yourself.” He stroked limp hair from her check. “Fight for us.”

  The night came and went, then came again. Emma, Marcus, and the Staffords took turns keeping watch with Joshua, Matthew, and Alex’s father.

  In the early hours of the morning she shuddered.

  “Matthew!” Joshua called in panic, but Matthew had already jumped. Alex struggled again. “She’s having trouble breathing.”

  Matthew lifted his sister’s hand and pressed it to his forehead. Finally, to his father, he said, “Get the others.”

  Joshua looked at him. “Don’t say it. Don’t say it, Matthew.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” Joshua lifted her from her side to prop her up.

  “She’s having trouble breathing. Help her.” He propped pillows up behind her as he lifted her limp body. She wasn’t warm anymore. That should be good. “Matthew!”

  Matthew shook his head once, helpless. Grief stricken.

  The brothers entered and he panicked. Stephen’s face was tortured, full of tears. He believed it as well. Emma stood in the doorway, pale, clutching the wall, struggling for composure. He recognized the expressions on everyone. They were letting her go.

  Joshua wouldn’t let them.

  He pulled Alex into arms, onto his lap, to protect her. “She is not going to die. I won’t allow it!” His hand captured her head as it fell backward, and he shuddered at the sudden decline in her temperature. “Fight, Alex. You deserve to live. You deserve to live!”

  He held her close, willing her to take another breath.

  “I know you blame yourself for your mother’s death. But it wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.” His voice cracked, his forehead touching hers lightly. “I love you, Alex. Don’t give up. I love you.”

  “Josh,” Stephen, reached out to him.

  Joshua knocked his arm away. “Get away!” He glared at the others and Robert Stafford held his hand up to halt the others, as if understanding. It was his right to fight for her. And he would not give up. He put a hand over her heart, certain there was still life. “Please, Alex. Fight. You are stronger than this. Fight.”

  He lost track of time in his pleading, rocking Alex gently until her body suddenly rattled and she expelled a gasped breath. Then she was still.

  He heard Emma’s gasp of pain from somewhere in his consciousness, the cursed lamentations from the others. Still he would not believe it. He pressed his lips to hers forcefully, his hands tightening in her hair.

  “Dammit, Alex. Dammit.” He touched his cheek to hers, then frustrated, shouted in her ear, “Wake up!”

  No one was more startled than he, when she did.

  With the weeping in the room, no one heard the weak cough but him. He pulled back, holding her gently, and she coughed again. More of a soft choke for air, but movement.

  Matthew shouted, leaping at him. “Get back. Prop her up.” He touched her throat and looked at him in awe. “She’s back.”

  Everyone clustered forward, as if wanting to hear her breathe for themselves.

  Joshua waited as Matthew examined Alex, before offering him a bemused smile. “It seems she’s out of danger.”

  Joshua blinked at the man. “She listened to me?”

  Stephen laughed hard, wiping at his tears of shock and relief. “You were a bit of nag.”

  Joshua
nodded. “I told you she wasn’t going to die.”

  The doctor contemplated him for a long moment, the intensity of his gaze disconcerting. “Who are you, Joshua Leigh, Duke of Worthington?”

  “Just a man.”

  “No,” Matthew considered. “You are definitely our sister’s match.”

  Samuel grasped Joshua’s shoulder from behind, deadpan. “But you still have our sympathy.”

  Marcus caught Emma as she stumbled. She wasn’t going to make it, but she wouldn’t ask for help. She fell into the door of the cabin next to Alex’s, and he pushed it open with one hand, catching her with the other. It had been agonizing for Marcus to see Alex suffer, to watch her life ebb away and be helpless. It had been worse so, he knew, for Emma.

  She grabbed toward a chair for balance, but he pulled her to him instead. Still she resisted, insisting she was okay, despite being blinded from the outpouring of emotion that she continued to rub away. He touched her cheek, desperate to ease her pain, and she smiled tremulously before giving up altogether and simply covering her face with her hands, her body shaking with quiet sobs, as she finally absorbed all that had happened. He pulled her to him and held tight, knowing he was unpracticed at comforting, useless at alleviating sorrow, and helpless to change anything in the past. He only knew he loved her. And in that moment he knew how Joshua had felt—that he would give his own life for one last smile from the woman he loved.

  Joshua’s grip on the rail was steadying, his breathing measured. The sun was rising again. Another day to hope.

  There was a splash in the water near the ships. Surprised, he spotted whales nearby—a familiar sort if he was not mistaken.

  “Balaenoptera physalus,” Robert said, joining him.

  “Fin whale,” Joshua said. Then added at the same time as Robert, “Alex has a book on it.”

  “Koto tells me they’ve been watching after us most of the night.”

  Joshua slowly turned to the man. “Is that unusual?”

  Robert shrugged, facing him with a half grin. “Not in this family.”