Siren's Call (Dark Seas)

by Debbie Herbert

  Opal’s voice had abruptly reverted to a calmer tone and pitch, but Lily scrambled to stay on guard. Once a monster is out of the bag, it can’t go back in. A hysterical giggle bubbled out of her throat.

  “That’s right. Let the drug take hold. It will make everything so much easier.” Opal thrust her face in front of Lily, studying her dispassionately. She was like a hawk zeroing in on some small, helpless prey, certain of victory.

  “What’s angel’s trumpet?” Lily asked, struggling to understand what was happening to her mind and body.

  “A poisonous flower, also known as hell’s bells or the zombie cucumber.” Opal took hold of Lily’s right arm and jerked her to a standing position. “I boiled one of the leaves and made a special tonic.” With her free hand, Opal opened the shoulder bag slung securely across her body and pulled out a glass vial half-filled with a sickly yellow liquid. “I’ve plenty more if I need it, so you better be a good girl.”

  She slipped the vial back into the bag and Lily saw it was filled with more vials and clear packets of dried herbs and flowers. A witch to-go kit. Lily giggled even as the horror mounted. She pointed at the bag, laughing. “It’s like a poison sample pack, a murder-on-the-go kit, a witchy traveling broom tote or a— Ouch!”

  Opal’s fingers dug into Lily’s upper arm, sharp as talons, forcing her to walk toward the back door on wobbly legs. All the while, she kept up a one-ended conversation, delivered in the patient tone of a teacher instructing a student.

  “I selected it just for you,” she droned on. “It has a hallucinogenic effect and often makes one euphoric and submissive. Came in handy with Nash’s other lovers, too. It was all so easy to set up the drug overdose for one and then the car accident for the other. The best thing? It’s not a substance likely to ever be checked for in an autopsy.”

  How had she not seen the crazy beneath Opal’s friendly facade? Even through the drug haze, everything clicked into place. Lily’s heart kicked into high gear, as if it were trying to hammer a hole out of her chest. No doubt another side effect of the angel’s trumpet. The door opened and Lily took heart at the sound of the ocean. If she could only reach the water... But even if she changed to mermaid form, there was no way of gauging what affect the drug would have on her mermaid metabolism.

  She tripped going down the porch steps, but Opal’s grip tightened, preventing a fall, preventing escape. Lily dragged her feet in passive resistance, but Opal was firm—and relentless.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. The dry mouth was worse; her entire palate felt encased in sand, her tongue swollen and useless.

  Opal ignored the question. “There won’t be any pain, not much, anyway. The end will be quick, like it was for Connie and Rebecca.” Opal clucked her tongue, chiding disapproval. “If you all had minded my warnings and stayed away from Nash, you could have lived. I’m not unreasonable.”

  Nash. Lily’s heart pounded erratically. If she died, he’d feel responsible and devastated. She had to try to save herself.

  “Opal, this makes no sense. He doesn’t love you. Killing me won’t change that.”

  “Third time’s the charm,” she quipped, unperturbed. “He’ll realize he loves me and that the rest of you sluts never mattered.”

  Holy Triton, the woman’s so delusional she can’t fathom logic. The nonchalance rattled Lily. There was no reasoning with a person living in a fantasy world.

  Their march continued onto a small trail in the woods. Lily stumbled along, weak and disoriented. It felt like this was happening to a different person and her body and brain were disconnected.

  Opal began singing—a children’s melody. The mirthful, familiar tune was warped into something eerie and sinister. She’d heard it recently but couldn’t place where.

  “Ring around the rosie

  Pocket full of posies

  Ashes, ashes

  We all fall down.”

  A glow of candles and the sweet odor of incense... Yes, that young girl, Annie, had sung it at Tia Henrietta’s. Annie had tried to warn her. Now Opal was the one singing, turning the light ballad into a funeral dirge as they slowly made their way through the woods.

  “Ring around the rosie

  Darkness befalls thee

  Ashes, ashes

  They all must drown.”

  Opal stopped the demented warbling and came to an abrupt halt. “We’ve arrived.”

  They’d reached the end of the trail. A few feet ahead a small two-person canoe was tethered to a tree by a thick rope.

  Lily stared incredulously at the faded green canoe. “You’re taking me out on that?” She tried to hide the relief but laughter tripped out of her belly, great gut-wrenching guffaws that left her clutching her stomach. “Y-you’re taking me out t-to sea?” Lily gasped in between the laughter, swiping at the tears running down her face.

  Opal gave a twisted smile as she untied the rope and pointed for Lily to board. “That’s a good girl. Enjoy the mind trip. Keep laughing right up until the end.”

  She clamped her talons on Lily’s arms again and forced her onto the boat. Lily did her best to avoid getting her feet wet. Can’t shift to my fishtail yet. Best wait until we go in a little ways. Opal gave a rough push and Lily’s butt landed on the metal slab that served as seating. She gulped in air, trying to stop laughing, but she couldn’t get her body to obey her mind’s command. Mustn’t let the monster know she’s playing right into my hands.

  Opal withdrew the oar beneath Lily’s feet and gave the canoe a push-off from shore before scrambling in and seating herself directly opposite Lily. In the tiny space, her knees crammed painfully into Lily’s.

  A little farther out and I’m home free. She could feel the muscles in her face contort into a wide, foolish grin that Opal would attribute as a harmless effect of the drug. But you don’t know how that drug will affect shape-shifting. Still, she liked her chances.

  “Won’t be so funny when you hit water,” Opal said smugly. “We both know you can’t swim. Oh, you might manage a doggie paddle for a bit, but you’ll tire after a few minutes. And I’ll be right here, sitting in the canoe, watching. Waiting.”

  The canoe headed out to sea as Opal paddled; the freckled skin of her face and chest disappeared as she reddened with exertion. Lily hung on tightly to the sides as it rocked in the waves, preparing for the right moment to jump overboard. Soon. A little deeper.

  She barely listened as Opal began singing, gasping between the words. Same tune as before, different lyrics.

  “Leaves of angel’s trumpet...”

  She exhaled, arms straining as the oar dipped into the water.

  On an inhale, Opal drew the oar into the air and nodded her head at Lily.

  “Soon I’m gonna dump it...”

  The boat surged ahead and Opal dipped the oar on the other side of the canoe and pushed, still singing.

  “Die, bitch. Die, bitch.

  Lily must drown.”

  Chapter 18

  “I’ll do anything to save Lily,” Nash said. “Anything. It’s my fault she’s in danger.”

  “It will require a huge sacrifice on your part,” Sam warned. “And a giant leap of faith.”

  It took all Nash’s patience not to snap at his grandfather. He inhaled deeply, trying to quell the hope that there might be a way. Knowing Sam, he might suggest a flaky scheme like astral travel or some such. “Just tell me your idea.”

  “There is an ancient ritual passed to me from the spirits. It will grant you power to access the island undersea. But in exchange for this ability, there’s a price.”

  He must be crazy. Undersea access? The glimmer of hope that had lit Nash’s spirit died. “That’s not possible.”

  “After everything you’ve seen and heard, after proof of your healing gift—” At Nash’s sharp inhale, Sam nodde
d. “Yes, a spirit revealed to me that you saved a bird not ten minutes ago. And after all this, you still can’t keep an open mind? You disappoint me, Nashoba.”

  His grandfather’s words stung like a poisoned arrow, filling him with bitter regret. “I’m sorry, I want to believe there’s a way, but it’s ludicrous. How can I possibly—”

  Sam turned his back on Nash’s explanation and walked away, his steps labored, shoulders drooped. Nash easily outpaced him and blocked his path.

  “Grandfather, I’ve never told you this, but you were the man I always looked up to as a boy. I admire and respect your wisdom and dedication to our people. But I’m not like you. This is all new to me. It’s a big adjustment. Please, if there’s a way to save Lily, I want to try.”

  Sam’s eyes, dark as crow feathers, assessed his grandson. “When you entered this earth, the spirit of the wolf howled in recognition. You were born to be a protector, a spiritual man with special gifts. In the old days, you would have been the tribe’s greatest hunter and provider. The ability for stealth, tracking and connection to the natural world and its signs are skills you’ve adapted for today’s world. It’s aided you in your career of capturing wildlife on film. But only you can decide whether to now accept your heritage.”

  A strong breeze picked up and Nash’s attention was drawn past his grandfather to the trees beyond them, where limbs and leaves tussled, an alive, canopied shelter for birds and beasts. The rustling increased, became an agitated whisper for his ears alone. Stay.

  He’d never sought any of this. But how could he deny offering help to those who needed him to intercede with the spirit world? I was born and selected for a reason. Nash’s resistance faded and he was filled with peace. “I accept and I believe.”

  The wind softly settled down like a sigh.

  His grandfather’s face lit with pride. “You’ve chosen wisely. But before we begin the ritual, you must know the price. In return for revealing and granting you a special power, the spirits demand that once the ritual is completed, you may never leave Bayou La Siryna.”

  “Never?” The sacrifice was harsh, a complete abandoning of his adventurous lifestyle and ambitions. The storied career he loved, had worked so hard to build, would be ruined. He’d be stuck in this hot, small Southern town the rest of his days. Surely, there must be a little leeway here. “Not even for a few weeks now and then?”

  “Never.” Sam’s voice was solid as the earth’s core and as inflexible. There was no compromise, no bending fate.

  “So that’s why you’ve never left this place,” Nash said slowly. “It wasn’t because you didn’t want to visit me, but because you were bound to the bayou.” All these years, he loved me as I loved him. A hurt Nash didn’t realize he’d harbored in some dark recess of his soul came to the surface and melted like ice in the noonday sun.

  “I’ve always loved you through the years, Nashoba.”

  Nash nodded but couldn’t speak. He hugged his grandfather and held tight, knowing Sam would understand what was in his heart, as he’d done when Nash was a child. His grandfather’s dignified posture softened slightly and he briefly returned the hug. Nash pulled away. “I’ve made my decision.”

  “You’re going to try and rescue Lily,” Sam stated. “No regrets?”

  “None.” He pictured her face and body as they made love, so giving and free. Life without Lily was unthinkable. Nash wasn’t sure when that had happened, but he guessed it was the day she had walked to him, naked and open, after his morning sun ceremony. And she belonged to this bayou as surely as he. “Lily’s my destiny,” he said simply.

  Sam nodded. “Wait for me at the same place we did the healing for Kevin. The circle is already set. I have to go inside first and get the talisman.”

  Nash walked across the yard to the circle laid out with large stones and shells. His skin itched with impatience to begin. Every second that ticked by put Lily in more danger. He paced inside the sacred circle and tried to ground himself in preparation for whatever was to come.

  The cell phone in his back pocket buzzed. Nash hastened to answer, hoping for news that Tillman had secured a boat. A message from Lily lit the screen.

  “Gone boating. See you later.”

  His brow wrinkled as he concentrated on the brief message, feeling more alarmed than comforted. The only boat on the island was a two-person metal canoe tied to a rope at the back of the woods. As far as he knew, Lily didn’t even know it was there. Besides, why the hell would a mermaid go boating? Made no sense.

  Opal knows about that boat. A flash of conversation flickered in his brain. The three of them had been picnicking under a shade tree when Opal suggested they all go for a swim to cool off. I can’t swim, Lily had said. Facts scrambled about his mind, seeking arrangement: Opal and Lily were together—Shelly had relayed that news. Opal thought Lily couldn’t swim, so why get on the small craft with no life jackets? If Lily could send a text, why hadn’t she responded to his earlier calls?

  The logical conclusion left his palms sweaty. Opal sent this. And if she had, the crazy bitch was about to kill again, only this time it would be death by drowning. Nash tried to take heart, knowing that if such was Opal’s plan, it had a major defect. Pushing Lily overboard would be tossing her to safety.

  He speed-dialed her number but, as he expected, there was no response.

  Sam emerged from the back porch.

  “We need to hurry,” Nash shouted, stuffing the phone back into his jeans. “I think I know how Opal intends to kill Lily.”

  “I’ll be quick,” Sam promised. “You will have time to save Lily.”

  Nash eyed his approach with impatience and curiosity. Sam clasped a ten-inch knife in one hand and a bag of cornmeal in the other. “What’s the knife for? Animal sacrifice?” he asked, only half joking.

  His grandfather didn’t smile. “There will be some pain.”

  Holy crap. The knife is for cutting my flesh. Nash squared his shoulders, determined to show no sign of weakness.

  As before, Sam walked the circle’s inner boundary and tossed the cornmeal skyward, appealing to the spirits for their blessing and expressing gratitude for past blessings received. As instinctual as breathing, Nash silently prayed to all the brave Choctaw warriors who had walked this land before him and whose spirits lingered yet.

  He stood rigid and proud in the middle of the circle as Sam set down the empty bag of cornmeal and faced him.

  “Take off your shirt and unfasten your hair,” he instructed.

  Nash shed his T-shirt and took out the leather band that secured his long hair in a ponytail. His tribe had once been infamous for their many tattoos; maybe his grandfather was about to carve one on his chest as a symbol of his unity with them.

  Sam raised the knife upward with both hands. “By the Spirits, I ask that the blood of the Okwa Nahollo that lives on in Nashoba Bowman be magnified a thousand times a thousand times. May he breathe underwater and navigate the seas as he does on land.”

  He paused, closing his eyes and tilting his head to one side, as if listening to an answer. Nash strained to catch what was being communicated, but an unnatural stillness settled. The breeze died, and he couldn’t hear a single bird or sense any animal movement. Even the constant crash of the tides seemed far, far away. A dark cloud passed over the sun, darkening the sky enough that the moon’s outline was visible.

  Sam opened his eyes and lowered the knife. “Do you vow never to reveal this mystery to anyone except tribe members and only as the need arises?”

  “Yes.”

  His grandfather positioned the blade so that it lay flat across his palms. It was more than just a knife; Nash recognized it at once. For as long as he could remember, the knife had been mounted above the fireplace, ensconced in the center of a grapevine wreath decorated with white shells and eagle feathers. He’d been warned
never to touch it because it was a sacred, ancient relic passed down through generations. For those deemed worthy by their ancestor spirits, it held great power.

  Let me be found worthy. I have to reach Lily.

  “Place your right hand on the knife and swear by your honor.”

  Nash positioned his hand so that it rested atop most of the blade and the handle, a bone carving of a woman with long flowing hair. The steel was as warm and throbbing with life as the bird he’d cupped in his palm earlier, whereas the handle was as cool as a stream of flowing water.

  “I swear never to break the code of silence.”

  “And you must swear that from this day forward, you will remain in Bayou La Siryna, never a day’s travel away from your ancestral home.”

  If he was too late, if Lily died, he’d be imprisoned here to a lifetime of loneliness, much as his grandfather had lived in his later years. I have to try. She’s everything to me, in life and in death. “I swear to stay forever.”

  Sam’s eyes softened in sympathy.

  He understands what this costs me. The knife trembled in Nash’s hands and he saw that his grandfather’s was shaking. With great effort, Sam again raised the knife upward in both hands. Shoulders and biceps strained, as if it weighed a hundred times its weight.

  He was growing weaker. Rituals drained his energy and Nash feared that his grandfather’s heart was overtaxed. He gripped Sam’s forearms, helping him keep the knife raised.

  The dark cloud blew away, the moon’s outline disappeared, and the woods resumed its usual animal chatter. Full sunlight reflected off the blade’s metal in a blinding flash.

  “It is time,” Sam pronounced.

  Nash withdrew his support and Sam placed the edge of the hot blade to one side of Nash’s neck.

  “The pain will be brief,” he promised. “And there will be no blood.”

  Sharp heat slashed across a couple of inches of his flesh. Nash kept his eyes fixed on the ocean, visible past his grandfather’s shoulder. He clamped his jaw tight, refusing to utter a sound. Twice more his grandfather carved the same vertical lines directly beneath the original cut.