The Siren (4 page)

“I’ve never had a sister before,” she remarked.

“I hadn’t either,” I told her.

What an extraordinary day. Though the life I lived was sometimes cruel beyond reason, this moment of holding a new sister in my arms felt good. It was simplicity in the middle of chaos. I had someone else to love! I had never been so grateful to the Ocean.

But the celebration was cut short by the Ocean’s labored instructions. We were to act now. Looking at the water surrounding Aisling’s form, I could see the signs. The waves should flow silkily, but they seemed like syrup, dragging themselves up the shore. The incoming crests were heavy and shallow. She could survive like this briefly— and the people depending upon her could survive slightly longer— but if we didn’t do something, She would fail.

“Did you hear Her just then?” I asked Miaka.

“I did hear something. What was that?”

“That was the Ocean. I know it sounds like mumbles now, but it gets clearer with time.”

“Were there
words
just then?” she asked.

“Yes,” Marilyn answered her curtly. She was undoubtedly our leader in this, and she had gone into business mode. “There’s no time to discuss it. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but we have to go now. I’m afraid it was coming to this anyway, but letting you go has sped up Her appetite.”

“Now!?” Miaka exclaimed. “But I don’t even know what to do. I don’t… I don’t know…”

“All you have to do is follow. It’s a very easy task; it’s all already inside you.” Marilyn’s words startled Miaka who grabbed her stomach to see if she could feel this unknown thing that existed in her body. Actually, if there was a thing inside, I suspected it would be closer to our lungs.

“We’re going to the South Indian Ocean. It’s almost Antarctic. You’re young, so you may feel the cold a little bit, but it can’t hurt you. Nothing can. Just follow our lead.” With that, Marilyn walked towards the Sea, leaving Miaka and I behind. Aisling was already waist deep in the water waiting for us.

“Could we hurry this up?” she whined at us, the only one eager to go do this horrific job.

I held Miaka’s shoulders in my hands at arm’s length, suddenly full of authority. “Stay close. The Ocean will take us where we need to go. You don’t even have to think. When we get there, don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself. When She tells you to, open your mouth. If you can’t hear Her, don’t worry. I’ll be right beside you. The song will just come. Don’t stop until it’s over. Do you understand?”

She nodded, looking at me with a mix of terror and trust.

It was surreal to be explaining to another person how to save her own life by taking those of others. During the quiet days in the warmth of South America, it was almost possible to forget what I was. But now, with the task so imminent, I hated myself. And I pitied Miaka. I had been taken in the middle of one of the Ocean’s feedings, so it had been a while before She needed me. I had some time to adjust. No such thing for Miaka. Still, when it was over, Marilyn and I could comfort her, and she wouldn’t have to think about it for a long time. Becoming an older sister made me quietly surer of myself. I could be anything Miaka needed.

We walked towards the water. My feet were in the tide, but Miaka had paused a few paces shy. Her face looked terrified, and her chest was heaving shallow breaths. She was afraid of the Ocean. She couldn’t swim, and she had just drowned. These were small worries in comparison to what was coming, but she couldn’t know that.

“Don’t be afraid of the water. The Ocean is your ally now. She’s not going to hurt you.”

Miaka stayed frozen.

“Miaka, trust me. I’m going to take care of you. Come into the water.”

Hesitantly, she edged her way into the sluggish surf. In the distance, Aisling and Marilyn submerged themselves fully, and I heard Miaka’s little gasp.

“See. They’re safe. And you will be, too.” Gently pulling, Miaka’s hand stayed in mine as we sank into the Ocean. She actually held her breath. I didn’t mean to, but a laugh escaped.

Miaka squealed a little as we started to move, but calmed each time I squeezed her hand. She grabbed fleetingly after her clothes as they tore away. They were nothing special; in fact, they were practically rags. But it’s still frightening to be naked in front of three strange women. Of course, as the gown that matched ours formed slowly and perfectly on her body, she was immediately in awe of herself. I saw the look in her eyes as we were jettisoned forward. She was enchanting. Her hair whipped around wildly, and she looked mysteriously elegant. She smiled, completely unaware of what she was about to do. I didn’t want to ruin that joy; the Ocean could do that. I didn’t want to have a part in it.

But I was a part of Her. I felt it. As we swam, I could feel the stabs of the Ocean’s hunger pangs. It was like a longing in our own stomachs, the only time I felt hungry. Miaka actually clutched her abdomen, feeling the strange desire. It must have been difficult for the Ocean to pass up Miaka. The one small girl wouldn’t have satiated Her though. She knew that. It was lucky for Miaka that she had not brought more down with her. Lucky for me, too. I let the joy of my new sister fill me again.

I sensed that the Ocean didn’t like Her diet any more than we did, but I wasn’t sure. It was a condition She had to bear, and we carried it with Her. In the same way that none of us wanted to see a massive lion devour a baby gazelle, we felt sorry for the small creatures She took. We ourselves were tiny gazelles who just happened to be in the lion’s protection. But what would happen to the lion if she starved? And, even more grave in this case, what would happen to all of those who depended on the lion?

She often waited to see if the natural and unpredictable conditions of the world would give Her what She needed instead of hastily acquiring it Herself. But this time She had pushed Herself too far by waiting. The world was in danger of losing Her support without even knowing it.

Around the globe, fish were dying, tides were becoming erratic, and weather was slowly going amiss. A fisher might notice, or anyone who really studied weather patterns. The rest of humanity moved and slept and didn’t know their precious world was slowly becoming useless. Now She was pressed— we could all feel Her urgency. It was so heavy, we knew She was about to act out of character.

We slowed as we reached the place She wanted us to wait. Once the speed passed, our bodies became more vertical, and we walked up to the surface like stepping up a flight of stairs. We stood on the rippling water that seemed as solid to us as hardwood. I was used to this phenomenon by now, but it was fun to see the newness of it surprise Miaka. I held her hand and looked around. It was darker now, but my eyes took in the surroundings by the light of the rising moon.

Something was missing.

There was no storm in the distance. We were in far too deep for rocks. The water was definitely cold enough to do harm, but the people would have to be in it first. None of the usual foreboding obstacles were nearby. What was this? Where was the danger we were meant to mask? Was it nothing more than what we were standing on?

The Ocean told us to face west. I saw Miaka whip her head at the noise and then turn in understanding as we all faced the same direction. I squeezed her hand, and she kept her eyes on me for a sign of what to do. In the moonlight, I saw that all of our dresses were dark blues today. No greens or teals, just a mirror of the inky color of the frosty liquid.

Aisling bent and settled down on the water. She lounged there, propping herself up with one arm while the other rested on her curves, the picture of ease. Her sparkling hair fell around her shoulders, and she licked her lips one time to make them glisten. Marilyn knelt behind her, sitting near Aisling’s legs and fanning her dress out so that it fell gracefully on the surface, moving up and down with the steady pulse of the Sea. Her red hair rose in the wind, like delicate strings of fire. I moved Miaka slightly in front of me and wrapped my arms around her. To the oncoming eyes we would look like we were in a loving embrace, but it was just so that I could sing in her ear. Not that she would be confused once it started. The four of us there would look like a dream.

We would be a nightmare.

A few moments passed as the Ocean waited for the right moment to enact our voices. The doomed ship had to be close enough to hear, but not see. I didn’t know how far our voices traveled, but it had to be quite some way. The song had to have a chance to grow. It had to be enough to confuse, then urge, then kill. We were something to crave, to hunt. We were an unknown aural treasure; we had to be found.

She told us to sing. I nodded to Miaka.

We took in breath and opened our mouths as one. The song came without worry or knowledge. It just existed. Our song was a mix of languages, the only time I couldn’t understand what I was hearing. French spilled into Swahili, German into Latin. For the ears that heard this distant song, it would be a tangle of syllables that seemed both familiar and foreign. It would sound like a comforting lullaby from your youth, except somehow you weren’t sure if you’d ever really heard it before. You’d have to get close to be sure.

Our harmonies wove into a beautiful knot that no human ear could unravel. Pitches and octaves laced themselves together into a fabric of unimaginable sounds. You couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be satisfied with the blessing of hearing it and not knowing the source. You had to find it. Every inch that closed between us, the poison, the pleasure in your ears would grow. For some it was slower than others; they were the ones that really suffered.

Reason ceased. You’d be prepared to drown. And if She asked us to stop singing and your logic resumed, you were already well beyond hope. Only a handful of people ever made it out.

A few moments passed. The outline of a large boat came into view. Slowly it crept closer and closer until we could finally make out its shape. It was a steel ship with five large masts and billowing sails. My arms were around Miaka, and she gripped me tighter, digging her nails into my arms. It didn’t hurt. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her to stay calm. But if I stopped singing it would be a sign of mutiny, and I would disappear along with all the souls on the approaching ship.

As it came closer, we could see people on the deck. Judging from the backlit silhouettes, they appeared to be all men. They were straining to see the source of our intoxicating sound. Our skin glittered in the moonlight, and as they drew near, that was the first thing they saw.

“What is that?” someone asked. It was a man’s voice.

“Do you see that shining on the water?” another called. This too was a man. They always seemed much more susceptible.

They drew close, and the ship turned slightly so that soon they would pass right in front of us. I looked forward but avoided looking at their faces. I had made that mistake before. I hoped Miaka would know better; I should have warned her. These excursions with the Ocean gave me some of the most evil nightmares I’d ever had. Wet hands would grab me and pull out my hair, drawing me into the darkness to join them. The faces I had seen would stare me down in the night, promising me I would suffer with them. I gave up sleep completely for months at a time to avoid seeing those faces. To avoid them now, I looked up at the ship itself. On the side in bold letters was one word:
Kobenhavn
.

As they got close enough to see us, some applauded our song seeming to forget the impossibility of how they were experiencing it. A few jumped off the ship, drawn into the water. Like many times before, I actually saw people inhaling it. I looked at the side of the ship, trying not to see a face or specific clothing. I didn’t want to distinguish one lost soul from another. I kept waiting. Where was the danger? When was it coming? Some of the men were swimming towards us. What if they got close enough to touch?

And then, so quickly that I almost didn’t see it, the Ocean opened up and swallowed the ship whole!

The action startled us into silence. I gasped. Miaka turned her head into my chest. Marilyn and Aisling quickly stood, suddenly surprised by the capacity of what they rested on. Apparently, we had done our job well enough for our sudden silence to not be a problem. The immediate hush seemed as much a shock as what we had just seen. Without our song to entangle their minds, a few of the men floating called out to us.

“Help! Help me!” one called.

“I can’t… I can’t breathe!” yelled another.

I kept my eyes away from their faces and averted Miaka’s as well. That would help some. But always, for months afterwards, I would hear their voices. I carry those sounds like scars. But, as we had to, we walked away on the water, the last horrifying and beautiful image of their lives. I always wanted to look back, to somehow convey my apologies. There was nothing to do though. I couldn’t save them, I couldn’t explain, and no look would ever do.

I had never seen anything like that, and based on Marilyn and Aisling’s reactions, I would say that wasn’t something normal. How was this supposed to be explained away? There was no reason or excuse. A boatful of people had just disappeared on open waters. Their families would never know the reasons, would never stop wondering. I would have sat there in sadness and let that wash over me again and again, but She spoke.

We were to stay together a little longer. She would explain it soon enough, for now we were to let Her guide us away.