Siren's Call (Dark Seas)

by Debbie Herbert

  Lily kissed his lips, stopping his protests. “Not that sick,” she laughed shakily.

  The desire in his eyes reflected her own passion. That age-old look of understanding and intimacy that passed between man and woman flashed silently in the charged stillness. Nash held out his hand and she accepted it, following her lover to the bedroom.

  * * *

  Much, much later, when the August Alabama sun began dipping beneath the treetops, Lily lazily rested her head on Nash’s lap as they rocked on the back porch glider. She wore nothing but one of his oversize T-shirts and panties. He’d changed from his earlier formal wear to an old T-shirt and gym shorts, and in Lily’s eyes he looked as sexy in the casual outfit as he had in the suit.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the soft stroke of his fingers running through her tumbled hair. The breeze was cool and ocean waves tumbled in the distance like a lullaby. She drifted toward slumber, her mind blank and peaceful, body sated from lovemaking.

  “Did you try to go in the water today?”

  Nash’s voice jolted her back to reality.

  “Yesterday. It was a no-go. Mom keeps assuring me that I’ll be able to shape-shift again in time.” She yawned and stretched her feet and arms like a cat awakening from a nap. She’d probably been sleeping as much as any cat for days now.

  “If my grandfather were still alive, I bet he could heal whatever’s wrong.”

  Lily sat up and settled in his lap, hope flaring her to attention. “How?”

  “He said all illness was caused when someone’s soul was injured. For healing, he connected to caring spirits, power animals and plant life. Sam believed health was the result of restoring a person’s spiritual power.”

  “And you think my soul was injured by the attack?”

  “I think it’s possible.”

  She remembered Sam involving Nash in the ceremony for Twyla’s son. “And he was grooming you to take over for him one day, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. But I couldn’t ever live up to his work. He’d been healing for years. It was something he felt called to do ever since he was a young man.”

  Lily cupped his face with her hands, fevered with excitement. “I believe in you, Nash. Heal me.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” he cautioned. “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Try. Please. You have a connection with the spirits—I’ve seen it in you.”

  “I’m willing, but—” He stopped. His muscles tensed beneath her, his gaze locked on something beyond the porch. Nash raised a hand over his brows, shading his eyes from the sun.

  Lily scrambled off his lap and followed the direction of his stare. “What is it?”

  “There,” he said, whispering as if afraid of disturbing something. He pointed to the far right side of the tree line in the backyard.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Right there, under the cypress where Sam used to chop wood in the shade. His old wheelbarrow is still leaning against the magnolia.”

  She squinted into the dark greenery. “There’s nothing there. Wait. Is that...a fox?”

  “It is.” His voice was hushed, deep with excitement. “Unusual to spot one this early in the evening. They’re nocturnal hunters. Stay here.”

  She waited as he went to the porch and pushed open the screen door. His movements were slow and silent, cautious not to startle the fox.

  The animal didn’t move other than twitching its long black bushy tail tipped in white. It regarded Nash intently with its pointed face and intelligent eyes. His fur was a reddish color with a white underbelly and paws dipped in black.

  Lily’s skin tingled. Chula. Did Nash really think this could be Sam?

  Nash came within a few feet of the fox and stopped as if hitting an invisible wall. He slowly hunched down until almost eye level with the fox.

  Lily rubbed the goose bumps on her arms, watching them stare at one another in some sort of silent communication. At last Nash stood and raised one arm, elbow bent, a gesture that could mean goodbye or “message received.” Or both. The fox turned and trotted off into the woods, tail held high.

  She could wait no longer. Lily ran out the door, down the steps and across the yard. “Well? Was it Sam? What did he say?”

  “Seems you got your wish. I’ll contact the spirits for a healing. Your body needs to be made whole so you can be fully at one with land and sea again.” A rueful smile played on his lips. “Don’t get your hopes too high, Lily. This is all new to me, but I’ll do my best.”

  She wanted to jump up and down and fist-pump the air. This would work; she knew it deep in her soul. But for Nash’s sake she restrained her enthusiasm and tried to match his somber mood. After all, this was serious business and sacred territory. “I understand. When do we start?”

  “Now.”

  Lily headed to the circle of stones where Twyla’s son had had his healing. She was moving at a dignified pace, but she wanted to skip with joy.

  “Not here,” Nash said. “For this, we must go to shore.” He turned and walked in the opposite direction and she followed.

  He moved with a slow but steady gait and she stepped into place beside him, glancing from time to time at his preoccupied, silent profile. She didn’t attempt conversation, sensing that Nash was mentally preparing for the healing. Twilight deepened the shadows but he walked sure-footedly, eyes focused on the distance. They scrambled down a clump of brush, arriving at a small patch of sandy soil where the sea gently lapped at the shore.

  Wordlessly, Nash stripped out of his clothes and she followed his lead. Still silent, he waded into the water up to his knees.

  Lily hesitated, not sure if he needed to be alone. Nash turned and held up an index finger. “Wait here.”

  He dove under, disappearing in the green depths. She ached to join but dared not risk ruining the process. This might be her only chance to become a mermaid again. She’d never imagined losing her ability to shape-shift. It felt as if part of her soul were amputated. Niggling doubts crept in. What if this didn’t work after all?

  She studied the water where Nash had submerged. It seemed too long since he’d dove under. She waited and waited, growing more anxious with every second that passed. Nash needed air. No human could hold their breath this long. Was he in danger? Lily shifted from one leg to the next and then paced, eyes constantly scanning the empty surface of the sea. Where are you? Come back to me.

  She couldn’t stand it any longer. Lily stepped forward, intent on saving Nash. But she halted at the sight of a mass of white floating in the distance. It looked as if someone had dumped piles of white sheets into the sea.

  Just like before, when Nash had pulled her to land. Wonder enveloped her senses.

  The underwater ghosts had returned.

  A human form glided under the water’s surface. Nash arose and stood before her, his long black hair plastered against his olive skin. His eyes bore into hers. With a start, she realized the color of his eyes wasn’t leaf-green as she’d imagined. They were the exact hue of this bayou water.

  He came to her and clasped his wet hands in hers, holding tight. “The Okwa Nahollo have agreed to help. Don’t be afraid. They’ve been the Choctaw’s friends and neighbors for generations. They are similar to you, but not the same. They don’t have fishtails or shape-shift, and their bodies are light as air.”

  “They helped us before. Out there on the island.”

  “Yes. It’s what I couldn’t speak of this morning until I asked their permission to reveal everything to you. You can never, ever tell anyone about their existence.” His voice grew sharper. “Including your family.”

  “I won’t,” she promised.

  Nash withdrew his hands and touched fingertips along either side of his neck. “We now bear the same markings. I breathe underwater, same as y
ou.” He dropped his hands and continued. “I have a distant heritage with the Okwa Nahollo, something I was unaware of until recently. The opening of these gills was my grandfather’s final blessing, granted to save your life.”

  Lily reached up and traced his neck markings with wonder. “So that’s how you did it,” she breathed. “You changed your very nature for me.” Her vision blurred with tears. “It must have hurt like hell. Are you happy with the change? Do you regret it?”

  Calloused hands gently swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I am at peace. This is my home now. Forever.”

  Her mind tumbled with questions. Joy and hope and sadness mingled in a cauldron of confusion. She wanted him to stay so desperately, but not like this. Never against his own will. The sacrifice was too great and he might come to despise her over the years. “Is that the price you had to pay for changing? You’re forced to stay in Bayou La Siryna the rest of your life?”

  “It was my decision. With my grandfather’s death, our people need a new healer and the spirits chose me.”

  “But it seems so unfair. What about your career? You love to travel and—”

  Nash brushed his lips over the top of her scalp. “Hush. That isn’t the only reason I stayed. I’ve traveled enough. It’s time to explore new territory.” He faced her again, placing his hands on the sides of her hips, grounding the two of them together on this spot of land where land and sea joined. “Chi hollo li.”

  His deep, serious voice rolled the unfamiliar words like a caress, wrapping her soul in joy. She had heard them once before but couldn’t remember when or why, only that Nash had said them. “Chi hollo li,” she repeated slowly. “What does it mean?”

  “It’s Choctaw for I love you.”

  “Oh, Nash!” Lily buried her face in his damp, broad chest. “I do believe I’ve loved you since I was a child and you found me when I was lost in the woods. I was so scared, but I knew that you would find me.”

  “And so I always will.” He pulled her from his body and stepped back. “The Okwa Nahollo await us. You will be a mermaid once again, fishtail and all.” He held out his hand. “Come.”

  Lily took his hand and they ran, laughing and splashing into the water. At waist level, they faced one another and embraced, sinking into the sea as one.

  Together.

  Epilogue

  Three months later...

  “Surprise!”

  Lily blinked, confused by the bright light from the gargantuan chandelier above and the attention of the large crowd of well-dressed citizens packed inside the grand opening of Jet’s new downtown shop. Her Pirate’s Chest antiques store had done so well she’d purchased the vacant space next door for expansion. For weeks, a construction crew had been hard at work under a veil of secrecy.

  The intent scrutiny of the crowd was puzzling. She stiffened her back, grateful to feel Nash’s reassuring squeeze at her elbow. Her eyes sought out and found her family, grinning at her in some secret delight. Jet and Landry, Tillman and Shelly, and Mom cuddling her first grandchild, six-week-old Adrian Fields.

  Jet raised a hand and dramatically swept it toward the left wall, as if she were Vanna White displaying a grand prize on Wheel of Fortune.

  Lily’s breath caught as she spotted the paintings. Her paintings. Dozens of them ornately framed and individually spotlighted by brass sconces. The walls were painted in the palest shade of sea-foam green, which subtly suggested an ocean backdrop for her watercolor seascapes.

  It was beautiful—perhaps perfect—yet she felt exposed and vulnerable at the sight of her intimate work on public display. Her right hand picked at the hem of her little black dress that skimmed mid-thigh. Automatically, she reverted to the Mona Lisa smile she hid behind to conceal her emotions.

  A dreadful silence hung as she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. What if they all hated her work? Mocked her efforts as blatantly amateurish? She’d be an embarrassment to Nash and her family. It would even top all the years of ostracism and ridicule she’d endured from the Bayou La Siryna townsfolk.

  Twyla swept forward, confident and elegant, holding a glass of wine in one hand. She flashed Lily a dazzling smile and flanked her side. “Welcome, Lily,” she said, her voice carrying over the room. “We hope y’all enjoy our little surprise tonight. So many people have worked hard to make it possible. Your fiancé, Nash, your family and all your friends and new admirers. We’re surprised and honored to have such a talent right here in Bayou La Siryna.”

  Applause erupted and everyone crowded around, talking at once.

  “Remarkable.”

  “Who could have guessed?”

  “I want to buy one.”

  Twyla held up a hand for silence. “There’s more. Come back to the gallery next month for an amazing display of underwater photography taken by Nashoba Bowman. Best of all, the photos were taken right here in Bayou La Siryna’s slice of the sea.”

  Lily turned to Nash, who smiled broadly and winked. He bent down and whispered in her ear. “See? Told you your paintings are exceptional. We make a good team.”

  The Mona Lisa mask melted and she bid it adieu. Happiness bubbled inside and she uncorked it like a bottle of vintage champagne. A genuine smile lit Lily’s face as she nudged Twyla and pointed to her wineglass. “How about finding me a glass, as well? I could sure use it.”

  Twyla snapped her fingers and nodded toward the back of the room. At the signal, three men dressed in navy blue tuxedos moved forward, carrying silver trays of drinks, and passed them out to the crowd. A waiter approached her and Nash and they each accepted one. Before she could raise it to her lips, Nash held his glass in the air and silenced the crowd.

  “Here’s to Lily Bosarge,” he said, the pride evident in his voice. “A fantastic artist and the woman I am proud to call my future wife.”

  More applause rang out and she scanned the beaming faces of everyone she held dear. Her circle of friends had widened exponentially over the past few weeks, due in large measure to Twyla’s influence. Trusting another human female after Opal’s betrayal hadn’t been easy, but Twyla had won her over with many acts of kindness. Lily turned to her and clinked their glasses together. “To my first and truest friend.”

  She sipped the wine, knowing that this time there would be no ugly hidden surprise lying in wait.

  Nash rubbed her neck and gave a playful squeeze. “Hey, I thought I was your truest and dearest friend.”

  “You’re that and so much more.” Unmindful of the audience, Lily rose up on her toes and kissed him square on the mouth.

  And that drew the biggest applause of the night, among much laughter and teasing. Lily cast a quick glance at her mother. Adriana slowly nodded, a silent gesture of acceptance of her daughter’s decision to seek her own happiness in her own way. There would be no more talk of returning to sea and living with the merfolk.

  Lily had to acknowledge her sister’s clever stroke of genius in naming her son Adrian in honor of their mother. Adriana had been present at the home birthing and had fallen instantly and totally gaga over the tow-headed baby boy. Lily stifled a grin, recalling Landry’s grumbling that his mother-in-law seemed in no hurry to ever leave the bayou. But he was so besotted with Jet, he’d suffer anything to make her happy.

  Just as Nash was equally determined to lavish her with love and affection.

  All of them had followed their hearts. And all of them had fought and won against great odds. And if sometimes Shelly was haunted by dreams of an escaped one-eyed killer on the loose, or if Jet remembered an ex-lover launching a spear at her undersea—the reward of love was worth the trials.

  As for herself, the image of Opal’s determined face as she raised an oar, poised to strike, would sometimes return with a clarity that set her heart pounding erratically. But the horror of that day was fading as she and Nash planned their future and lived e
ach day grateful for the opportunity to be together. Tillman and Landry were solid and serious and had the power of the law on their side.

  With Nashoba she’d found a protector, a healer and a forever love.

  Amid the gallery exhibition’s noisy camaraderie and cheer, Nash pulled her aside and gazed down with his intense green eyes, searching her heart. “Are you truly happy, Lily?”

  More than I ever dared dream. “With you—always. Chi hollo li.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE VAMPIRE’S FALL by Michele Hauf.

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  Chapter 1

  It wasn’t often Blade Saint-Pierre walked through the Darkwood without a purpose—or a weapon. Tonight he’d craved the exhilaration of awareness that always accompanied such a venture. Instincts on alert and every muscle in his body strung tightly, he closed his wings against his back as, barefoot, he strode toward the clearing that opened to a mossy bed edging a stream.

  A dark forest of no return, the massive acreage edged his property. The Darkwood was a no-man’s-land that was principally Faery, but as well, a place for all breeds to congregate. It provided respite for those who could not walk amongst humans. A wayside stop for those paranormals traveling this realm that wished to take a breath before meeting the challenge of humans.