Dark Water: A Siren Novel

by Tricia Rayburn

  My breath caught. “The first time?” I practically whispered.

  Her head turned toward me. “So she didn’t tell you everything.” Betty sighed. “Yes, to experience long, seemingly normal lives, we depend on those of others. Taking one man might sustain us for a few months, but once its effects wear off, the aging process begins again—and accelerates. In order for Charlotte to have had a different fate, she would have needed to kill again. And though she loved you more than you’ll ever know and was beyond elated to spend time with you … she couldn’t bring herself to do it. That wasn’t who she wanted to be for you.”

  Fresh tears brimmed. I didn’t bother blinking them away. “So death was the best option?”

  “She thought better hers than someone else’s.”

  I turned and faced the windows. Pressing my forehead to the cool metal screen, I focused on breathing.

  “So you,” I whispered, “you’ve …?”

  “I have. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I had a daughter and, eventually, two granddaughters to care for. When it became clear that Raina intended to use her powers maliciously and teach Zara and Paige to do the same, being there for them was even more important. So I did what I had to do.”

  It was too much. All of it—Charlotte, Colin, girls dying, my friends and family suffering, our uncertain futures. It was all too much. I didn’t think I could handle it.

  “Whatever you do, Vanessa,” Betty continued gently, “do not blame yourself. You’re not responsible for her death. The only other thing Charlotte wanted besides your health and happiness was for our legacy to magically disappear. At the very least, she wanted the public to never know about us or suffer by our hands. She couldn’t control the greater siren community, but she could control her own actions.” Betty paused, took a deep breath. “So even if your paths had never crossed, this was bound to happen—and sooner rather than later.”

  Tears streamed down my face and neck as we fell into silence. Several minutes later, I asked, “What about a funeral?”

  “She didn’t want one. Besides, her body wouldn’t last long enough for arrangements to be made. Most don’t.”

  “So what do we do with … how do we …?”

  Betty’s voice was soft, apologetic, when she answered. “We return her to the sea one last time. I’d be honored to take her whenever you’re ready.”

  “I can do it.”

  “It’s lovely of you to offer, dear, but—”

  “I want to do it.” I turned, saw Betty’s chin lower toward her chest in resignation. “When?”

  “As soon as you feel up to it. Oliver and I will just need a few minutes to prepare.”

  I stood up and crossed the room. “I’ll send him in.”

  In the hallway, Oliver stood next to Dad, who still sat slumped in an armchair. I went to them and touched Dad’s shoulder.

  “She didn’t want a funeral,” I said gently. “Do you want to take a moment with her before …?” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  His frizzy white hair floated on air as he shook his head. “I already did.”

  I looked at Oliver. He nodded once and returned to the guest room.

  “Your friends are here,” Dad said. “Simon, Paige, Caleb. And a nice blonde girl I’d never met before.”

  Natalie. That was strange. Why would Paige invite her along?

  “They wanted to make sure you were okay,” Dad said. “Do you want me to get them?”

  I was tempted to ask for Simon and Paige, but I was afraid I’d lose my nerve if I saw the concern and sadness on their faces. So I thanked him but said I’d wait to see them until I was back.

  Fifteen minutes later, Betty and Oliver joined us. Betty reached for my hand, and I gave it to her.

  “Swim as long as you’d like and rest her wherever feels right. Don’t worry about the container—it will disintegrate before night falls.” She squeezed my fingers. “We’ll be here when you’re done.”

  Which was what Charlotte had said the day she showed up at the restaurant a few weeks ago and I’d left her on the dock to talk to Simon. A lump formed in my throat; I forced it down into my chest.

  Dad stood and the three of them left for the living room. I went to the guest room, which had been cleaned up and looked as if no one had stayed there in some time. The bed was made. Charlotte’s belongings were gone. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, which hung straight and even. The only evidence that the room had been recently occupied was a square bag on the window seat.

  That, I thought, is my mother.

  The bag was silver and crinkled, like heavy-duty cellophane. It had a zipper on top and two straps attached to the back. It was lighter than I expected, and I almost unzipped it to check its contents, but didn’t. Instead of wearing it on my back, I hugged it to my chest. I held it like this down the hall, outside, and all the way to the beach. I put it down only to take off my sneakers and socks, and then I picked it up and hugged it again.

  I never wore the bag like a backpack. In the water, I paddled with one arm, using the other to hold the bag close. I didn’t know how long I swam or how far. But I didn’t stop until I reached a large coral reef near the ocean floor. My eyes had adapted to darker water over the past year, and I could see that the structure teemed with colorful fish and plant life. It was a bright spot in an otherwise black world. Deciding that this suited Charlotte, I swam to a small crevice and carefully set down the bag.

  And that was it. There was no ceremony. No sad music or fond speeches. A woman’s challenging life had come to a difficult end, and this was all she got. A biodegradable bag at the bottom of the ocean.

  I stayed there for as long as I thought I could without worrying everyone waiting on land. Then I pressed one hand to the bag, pictured a young, healthy, smiling Charlotte, and said good-bye.

  My head stayed clear as I returned to the surface. Back at the house, I found my friends and family gathered in the living room. Mom had switched into hostess mode and served tea and sandwiches, most of which sat untouched. I assured everyone I was fine, then asked for a few minutes alone with my friends. As Mom, Dad, Betty, and Oliver retreated to the kitchen, I sat on the couch next to Simon, who put his around me instantly.

  “I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll stop Colin.”

  CHAPTER 22

  ABOUT A WEEK LATER, Paige fiddled with her cell phone on my bed while I prepared for my date. Getting ready was taking much longer than I’d planned because my body wasn’t cooperating. It had been six days since I’d stolen the charge of energy from the Hike House manager, and it showed.

  “Who is she?” Paige groaned lightly. “How come I can’t place her?”

  “Maybe you don’t know her.” Standing before the bathroom mirror, I rubbed a third layer of moisturizer into my face, neck, and hands.

  “I knew Carla and Erica. And this girl, at least from the back, looks familiar.”

  I didn’t answer. Caleb had been sent three new photos of our stalker’s latest target, a petite brunette, which he’d forwarded Paige at her request. She’d been driving herself crazy trying to place the girl since, without success.

  “Did I go to school with her? Has she been to the restaurant?”

  As Paige wracked her brain, I finished off a gallon of salt water and waited to see if it made a difference. When my skin stayed pale and dry and the slight creases around my nose, mouth, and eyes didn’t smooth, I reached for my last line of defense: makeup. It took blush, lipstick, mascara, eyeliner, and half a bottle of foundation, but eventually, I thought I could pass for eighteen again.

  “Wow.” Paige’s eyes traveled from my head to my toes as I came out of the bathroom.

  “Is it too much?” I turned toward the freestanding full-length mirror. “I don’t want to look like I tried that hard. It might make him suspicious.”

  She got up from the bed and stood next to me. “You look just amazing enough.”

  As I smiled at her reflection, I couldn’t
help but think the same about her. Paige had always been a head turner, even before her transformation, but she was even more beautiful now. Her long hair shone, and her creamy skin was smooth. Her blue eyes were lighter and brighter than I’d ever seen them. She didn’t wear a stitch of makeup—and she didn’t have to. We were the same age, but she looked younger now than she did a year ago, while under my cosmetic disguise I looked much older. According to Charlotte, this was partially because I’d transformed sooner, but also because I was a Nenuphar and Paige wasn’t. A small part of me was envious. But mostly, I was relieved. I didn’t want my best friend to have to deal with what I’d been going through. Ever.

  I gave my reflection another quick review. The rest of my body was as dry as my face, so I’d borrowed a long linen skirt from Mom to cover my legs. I’d paired that with a tank top, my denim jacket, and sandals. I’d left my hair down and let it air-dry so that it looked natural, wavy.

  As long as Colin didn’t look too closely, I should be okay.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Paige asked. “We could tag team and totally blow his mind.”

  I’d actually considered this but decided against it. I hadn’t broached the topic yet, but for whatever reason, Paige had been fairly reckless with her abilities lately. So although backup would be nice, I didn’t trust her not to do something that might alert him and ruin our chance.

  “Thanks,” I said, “but I’ll be fine. Plus, you guys will be right down the road, so if anything goes wrong—”

  “Which it won’t.”

  “Which it won’t … but if I need you for any reason, you won’t be far away. And the best part is, I won’t even have to use my cell phone.”

  The suggestion that I might reach out to her the way Charlotte had taught me seemed to appease her. She pulled me into a tight hug.

  “Be careful,” she whispered. “Or I’ll never talk to you again.” We headed for the kitchen, where Mom was baking and Dad reading, and told them we were having dinner and watching a movie at Paige’s. They still looked concerned as I kissed them good-bye, just as they now did anytime I left the house, but they didn’t protest or try to convince us to stay.

  And then we got in our cars and drove to town. When we reached Main Street, Paige turned right and continued to Betty’s Chowder House. I stayed straight and found a parking spot across the street from Murph’s Grill.

  “I’ll sit at the bar.”

  Still in the Jeep, I gasped and dropped the lip gloss and compact I’d been using. “Simon. What are you doing?”

  He stood next to the driver’s side door, his hands in his jeans pockets and his forehead wrinkled with worry.

  “He’ll never know I’m there,” he said.

  Heart still racing, I reached through the open window and gently tugged on the front of his T-shirt so he stepped closer. “But I’ll know.”

  “Vanessa,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure about this.”

  “We discussed our options,” I reminded him. “Over and over again. And we all agreed this was the best one.”

  “But why won’t you let me come with you? I’ll stay out of sight and only intervene if necessary.”

  I hesitated, debating my response. I’d already tried reassuring him with the fact that we’d be in a public place, surrounded by people; that no matter what, we wouldn’t go anywhere else; that I’d abort the mission at the first sign of trouble; and that I had him, Caleb, and the police on speed dial. That had been enough—until now.

  Finally, trusting that it was the only thing that might work, I went with the truth.

  “I don’t know what it’ll take.”

  “What do you mean? You said you’d use your—” He stopped himself, looked around to make sure no one was listening, and tried again. “You said you’d be so convincing, he’d have no choice but to confess.”

  “And I will. I just don’t know what I’ll have to do to be that convincing.”

  His face fell.

  “There’s a line,” I added, my face flushing. “Obviously. But … there will probably be flirting. Some minor PDA. Do you really want to watch? Especially if it might make you lose focus of the ultimate goal?”

  “What if I don’t lose focus?”

  “Is that possible?”

  It wasn’t. We both knew this, so he didn’t bother answering.

  “It’s July seventeenth,” I reminded him softly.

  He looked down, nodded. “Can you please promise me one thing?”

  “Of course,” I said, thinking this request would be related to the aforementioned PDA.

  “Don’t be too brave.” He raised his eyes to mine. “Okay?”

  The memory of Charlotte’s voice filled my head. I pushed it aside.

  “Okay,” I said. “See you soon.”

  He lingered for another few seconds before walking away. I was relieved when he didn’t try to kiss me first. I wouldn’t want—or be able—to resist, and if Colin somehow saw the exchange, our plan would be over before it even started. Apparently, Simon agreed.

  I waited until the Subaru drove past and turned on to Main Street, then checked my appearance once more in the rearview mirror. Satisfied, I hopped out of the Jeep and hurried to the restaurant. Colin was already there, at a table in the back room. Spotting me, he stood and waved.

  You can do this, I told myself as I made my way through the bar crowd. He’s just another guy.

  My body wasn’t buying it. The closer I got to the back room, the harder my legs trembled. When I reached the table, I dropped into a chair and drank the glass of water that had already been served before saying hello.

  “Hey,” Colin said, giving me his glass next. “Let’s get some refills.”

  He motioned to the waitress, who left us a pitcher.

  “You feeling all right?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.” I resisted taking the pitcher in both hands and forced a smile. “How are you?”

  “Great.” He grinned. “I have been ever since you called.”

  I tried to casually search for deeper meaning behind his words and expression. The one concern that Simon, Caleb, Paige, and I had all shared was that Colin would think my asking him out meant we were onto him and would be instantly on alert. And even though he seemed to be asking for the attention, we weren’t sure what he planned to do once he had it. I was encouraged by how quickly he’d responded to me that morning on the beach, when he saw me emerge from the ocean after a long swim and I’d held on to him for support … but I was still wary.

  If Colin was harboring sinister thoughts, however, he didn’t show it. He seemed happy. Excited. Maybe a little nervous, as suggested by the pink around his shirt collar and the fact that he couldn’t pick up a utensil without dropping it to the floor, but even that seemed innocent enough.

  My own nerves easing slightly, I started with small talk. In no time, we’d addressed the weather, movies, and favorites, including color, food, and holiday. I asked most of the questions, which he answered easily.

  After we’d ordered and received our food, I decided to steer the conversation toward more personal, serious topics. Before beginning, I scooted my chair closer to his until we sat so close, our arms brushed together.

  “Do you mind?” I asked, when he looked pleased yet surprised. “It’s pretty loud in here and I don’t want to miss a single word.”

  The pink on his neck spread to his cheeks. “I don’t mind.”

  “Good.” I smiled and let my knee rest against his. “So remind me how long you’ve lived in Winter Harbor?”

  He picked up his fork—and dropped it again. As he bent down to retrieve it, I reached into my purse, slung across the back of my chair, found the digital voice recorder in the small pocket, and turned it on.

  “About two months,” he said, sitting back up.

  “That’s it?”

  “And I won’t be staying much longer, either.” His smile faltered as he caught my eye. “Unfortunately.” />
  A small ball of energy warmed my stomach. I wanted to look away but held my gaze steady. “Why not?”

  “College.”

  My pulse quickened. “Where do you go?”

  “Pomona. It’s a small school in California.”

  “That’s a long way from here.”

  He nodded, once again looking disappointed. I pressed on before I lost him to the feeling.

  “So does your mom live here? And you’re spending the summer with her?”

  “Yes. My parents split two years ago, and she moved to Winter Harbor a few months later—right in time for winter in summer.” He paused. “Were you around for that?”

  I’d just taken a bite of salad and focused on chewing and swallowing. “Yes,” I said.

  “Was it insane? It sounded totally insane. I mean, the storms and the bodies and the ice? What was that? My mom was so freaked out, she wanted to bail. Too bad she couldn’t afford to move somewhere else. She’d just spent her savings on a house and didn’t have the money—and no one was going to buy it while all that was going on.”

  He was talking fast, growing animated. Was this how all murderers spoke about their psychopathic passions?

  “It was pretty crazy.” I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I picked at my food. “And this summer’s not off to such a great start.”

  “You mean with the girls?” He shook his head, picked up his burger. “I know. It’s awful. I forbid my mom from going out by herself at night. That’s why I brought that stuff to your family’s house a few weeks ago, when you and your friends were hanging out.”

  He chewed, wiped ketchup off his chin, slurped his soda. Once again, if my question threw him off, he was very good at hiding it.

  “Can I tell you something?” he asked.

  My breath caught. His voice sounded different. Quieter, but there was something else, too. Was it more nervousness? A touch of fear?

  I forced the puzzlement aside and smiled. “Of course.”

  “Even if it’s completely crazy? And might make you think I’m completely crazy? So much so that you write me off and we end what could’ve been a blissful, perfect relationship right here and now?”