How (Not) to Soothe a Siren (Cindy Eller Book 9) (10 page)

W
e returned to the camp with our bounty. Viveka showed me how she cut the great leeks we had pulled from the ground in half and roasted them on the fire with some kind of sweet-smelling butter. It reminded me of the butter we had eaten with the selkie folk, though that had been nearly white, and this butter was decidedly golden in hue.

“We trade with some of the herdsman,” Viveka said, seeing my interest. “I give them produce from my garden, and they give us milk, butter, and cheeses. There are many herds in these parts. This cheese comes from a little herd of cattle. The cows are quite small, and good-natured. I think they make the best milk.”

“Excuse me for saying anything,” I said. “But, you seem quite domestic. You’re not at all what I expected…”

“From a swan sister?” Viveka arched one perfect eyebrow. She laughed. “I don’t think that there are many like me. I have always been rather… domestic. Yes, I like that word. Most groups of swan maidens give little care to the future, or what they might eat, or where they will rest their heads. My sisters and I are quite different.” A fond smile touched her lips as she watched her sisters form a ring around Asher and start to dance. “Our father believed that even swan maidens should be well-rounded and educated. Our mother was a swan maiden once, you know. He tried his best to introduce her to the best of books, and knowledge, but it was a lost cause, I’m afraid. My mother truly is as silly as my sisters at times appear to be.” She smiled softly. “Our father is a brilliant man, even among the High Fae, though it has been centuries since he broke bread with his kin. We are cousins of a sort, I believe.”

“I’m delighted to hear that,” I said. “I think you and I are surprisingly similar.”

Viveka laughed again, her voice deep and rich. “Oh, yes. I have heard stories about you.” Her eyes glittered as she leaned closer. “Is it true that you called down the lightning to shatter the barrier?”

I snorted. I couldn’t help myself. So much for being the dignified Seraphim. I clapped both of my hands over my face, torn between laughter and embarrassment.

Timothy came up behind me and slid an arm around my waist. He leaned his chin over my shoulder and pressed a kiss on my cheek.

Viveka watched this exchange with raw envy written on her face.

“What are you two charming ladies laughing about?” he asked, sniffing at the pots that circled the fire-pit with an appreciation born of hunger.

Viveka turned scarlet and murmured something, before bolting in the direction of her sisters.

“I think you scared her,” I told Timothy, laughing at his confused reaction. “I don’t think they see many men out here.”

Timothy touched the damaged side of his face with one finger. “I hope it wasn’t my scar that chased her away,” he said.

“Nonsense.” I kissed his nose. “The scar makes you look even more distinguished and handsome. I think our swan maiden friend just wishes she had someone as dashing as you in her life.”

“Flatterer,” Timothy said with a mock growl. He bent his head to kiss me.

“Always,” I murmured against his lips.

“Ahem.”

We broke apart to see Aurora standing in front of us, her expression frank and curious. She held a large bag in her arms. “Viveka has asked me to direct you to the bathing pool,” she said. “Apparently you stink.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear. I really do speak before I think. I’m sorry. I’m sure that you don’t stink… much.”

I laughed. “I’m sure we do. We would be delighted to have a chance to get cleaned up. Believe it or not, I appreciate your… candor.”

Aurora’s face relaxed. “Oh, thank the Great Swan’s Wings. You have no idea how often I end up offending people. It’s not that I mean to. I don’t. I just tend to say whatever pops into my head, without taking the time to consider first. It’s always getting me in trouble.” She glanced over her shoulder at her sisters. “We already cleaned up the baby while you were off in the garden with Viveka.” Her nose wrinkled expressively. I wasn’t sure if the disgust was directed towards cleaning Asher, or gardening.

Aurora kept as quick of a pace with her feet as with her mouth. She half-skipped over a narrow path through the grass, which lead to a small copse of trees.

“We inherited the bathing pool from our mother,” Aurora said. “Just as we inherited our wings and our looks from her. Our father… well, he’s clever, but he is not the handsomest Fae I have ever met.” She gave Timothy a sidelong look. “Our parents love each other
devastatingly
, but they truly are an uneven match. Maybe that’s why it works so well. No one thought that a High Fae could ever truly love a swan maiden, but my mother is ridiculously beautiful. Here we are!”

‘Here’ referred to a wide, rippling pool of clear water. The bottom and sides and been neatly covered in colorful stonework, making it more of a bath than the pond I’d half expected.

“The water feeds in from there,” Aurora said, pointing. “And, it leaves that way. Don’t go too close to the side of the pool where the water enters, or you’ll be burned. Annika tried cooking fish on that side once. It worked, but the whole pool was fouled for a week. Don’t worry; we haven’t let her experiment since then.” She dropped the large bag she had been carrying on the ground beside the pool. “There’s soap and clothing for you in here. There are stairs into the pool just there.” She pointed again. “If you leave your clothes here, they will be cleaned.” She grinned. “Nothing Magical, we just have a deal with some of the local Folk. You know, for produce.” She rolled her eyes. “The things people will do for fresh fruits and vegetables. You would think that the garden was full of treasure.”

I could have argued the point, but she was already making her swift, decided way back up the path we had come down. We could still hear her voice continuing on and on, growing fainter as she departed from us.

Timothy chuckled as he pulled his shirt off over his head. I paused in my own undressing for a moment of appreciation. Sculptors would have wept for the chance to recreate him in stone. Even after a decade together, he had the ability to turn my insides giddy.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, oblivious to my gawking. “But, all that talking wore me out more than three days in the saddle. Maybe you’re more used to it—growing up with all those sisters.”

“None of my sisters talked like that,” I said. I sat down to pull my boots off. I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually seen my feet. “It feels like we’ve been on the road for months, not days.”

Timothy grunted with agreement. “You know how time is in Faerie. There’s no way to be certain just how long we have been gone.” He hissed as he lowered himself down into the water. “Oh, this is nice. Grab the soap, will you? I forgot it.”

I dug through the bag Aurora left and came up with two round balls of sweet-smelling soap. “I think you’re going to end up smelling like a swan sister,” I said, handing him one as I slid into the water. The temperature at the stairs was just right—warm enough to turn my skin pink, but not too hot to be uncomfortable.

“I’d rather smell like them than a horse,” Timothy said. He ducked under the water and resurfaced with a splash, spraying everything around us with water.

I laughed. “Hey, don’t get our clean clothes wet.”

“I won’t.” Timothy drifted closer and grabbed my ankles in his hands. “You’re not all in, yet.”

“Hey!” I started to protest, but it was too late. Timothy yanked with his hands, pulling my feet out from under me and dunking me under the water.

I spluttered as I resurfaced. “Oh, you’ve declared war, now!”

Timothy shut me up in the nicest way possible—with a kiss.

*~*~*

W
e emerged from the pool, much later, clean, relaxed and happy. I’d taken the time to wash my hair with the scented soap and now I set to finger combing it as we walked back to join the others. In the fading sunlight, it was drying quickly. If I didn’t find a comb soon, I was going to be dealing with a massive halo of tangled curls.

“I’ll brush it for you when we get back,” Timothy promised, his breath on my neck making me break out in goosebumps. He spun me around to kiss me again.

“No more distractions,” I said, regretfully. “Asher is going to need us.” I tugged at the skirt that had been left in the bag for me. It was a soft, grayish-white material, and much clingier than I was used to, especially since my option had been to wear my dirty underthings rinsed-out, or make do with what the swan maidens apparently wore—which was not much. At least the buttoned top would allow me to feed Asher. My breasts were feeling heavy and sore. I couldn’t wait to get back to our usual feeding schedule again. Eating, sleeping, and all those usual every-day things became much more complicated while we were traveling. I would have loved to have one, restful, day with no one and nothing but my family to worry about.

Once this quest of ours was finished, I promised myself. Once we took care of the situation with the siren, then we could rest.

Asher was delivered to me as we stepped into the camp, his face gleaming with cleanliness. He, too, was dressed in new, clean clothes. His newly-washed hair stood out in light-brown curls on the top of his head. He grabbed me and buried his face in my neck.

My heart felt awfully gushy for a moment.

“You sweet, little boy,” I murmured against his hair. I kissed his cheek. “You missed Mama, didn’t you?”

“Dadada!” he shrieked in response, launching himself at Timothy.

Of course. Of course, my son would say ‘Dada’ instead of ‘Mama’ first.

Maybe I should have felt jealous, but I didn’t. I loved how much my son loved his father. I loved seeing what a great father Timothy was.

I hadn’t grown up with a father. Sure, I’d had stepfathers, but none of them had felt like they were mine. They had been almost incidental, coming and going without leaving much of an impression on my life. I had grown up not knowing who my father was, or anything about him.

Timothy had to feel the same way. A single mother, who had died when he was only sixteen years old, had raised him. Like me, he’d never known his father. This time with Asher must feel an awful lot like redemption.

Or a chance to start over.

I retrieved my son from his father. We joined the others around the fire-pit for a veritable feast. I settled down on the ground, leaning my back against a long, white log of driftwood, to nurse Asher.

My mother, Merlin, Madi, and the soldiers must have had access to the pool, or clean water of some sort, for they were all clean and wearing the same swan maiden provided clothing that Timothy and I were wearing. It was nice to have us all, for once, putting our best feet forward.

Viveka and the other swan sisters hurried around, serving each of us in turn. The majority of our meal had come from parts of Viveka’s garden, I realized. The fish that we had seen, hanging over the fire, had been smoked with slices of lemon, sea salt, and handfuls of herbs inside, flavoring the firm meat. We ate roasted leeks, beets, and some unfamiliar vegetables that tasted a little like cauliflower. There were refreshing slices of fruits and melons alongside the saltier, heavier fare.

We watched the driftwood fire burn, sparkling with blue and green flame, as the sun drifted down in the distance, appearing to be nestled in the hollow between the coast and the sea for a moment, before it sank from view amidst the vibrant colors of sunset.

“N
ow,” Viveka said, “we will talk about what brought you here.”

Her sisters sat around her in a ring, their faces, hair, and white dresses flickering in the warm light of the fire. They looked like ancient priestesses to my imagination, waiting on the moon so they could perform their rites.

“You are here because of the harm the siren has done,” Viveka said, her voice solemn and slow. “Is that true?”

I nodded. “Yes. The Huntsman brought us here, as he led us to other places where she has done a lot of damage. I expected to find the same thing here.”

The swan sisters giggled softly.

“She tried to fool us, as well,” Viveka said, hushing her sisters with a glance. “As you no doubt realized, my garden is a Magical place. We owe its existence to the siren.”

“How does she do these great works of Magic?” Timothy asked. “If she has such amazing power, why does she need to search for it elsewhere?”

“Her power is a wishing comb,” Viveka said. “She can only use its power for others. She was given the comb, oh, centuries ago, by her sworn love.”

“So, she uses the power of the comb to entrap others into her power,” I said. “How is it that you remained safe, when so many others were tricked by her impossible tasks?”

The girls laughed softly again.

“Not impossible tasks,” Viveka said. “Merely… clever. And, as I mentioned, we were raised by our father to be clever. It was Casidhe.” She gestured with one arm.

One of her sisters rose to her feet. She was slight and pale, with hair so blond it was very nearly white, and pale almost-white blue eyes. With her washed out coloring, she was rendered almost invisible. She twisted her hands in front of her, pink flooded into her narrow face.

“The siren tasked us with taming the tides as they flow,” she said, her voice almost too soft for me to be able to hear. One of her sisters poked her and she raised her voice slightly. “I realized that we could do so by making a water wheel, like the kind they use for mills.” She gestured towards the shore. “We built the wheel and placed it where it could be moved as the tides come in and out. We used the water wheel to turn a millstone and grind grain for a meal—using the tides to make our meal, and so taming it for domestic purposes.”

“It was horribly loud,” one of the other girls, I thought it might be Aurora, muttered.

“The siren could do nothing,” Viveka said, gesturing for Casidhe to sit down in the circle again. “We had kept our end of the bargain. She was furious—hence her attack on you this afternoon. There is nothing she can do to us, no matter how she might gnash her teeth and do her best to harm any who stray into her way.”

“You are the first we’ve met who has been able to sort out the riddle the siren has set for them,” I said. “The ice giants have fallen into her power completely, and the selkie folk are dwindling.”

“What were their tasks?” Casidhe asked from her seat in the sand. “Perhaps it is not too late for us to save them.”

“The ice giants were told to capture moonlight,” Timothy said. “And the selkie folk were to carry a rainbow.”

Casidhe pursed her lips slightly. “I’m not sure about the moonlight,” she said. “But, perhaps the selkies could use a prism to allow them to carry a rainbow—if they could shine light through it?”

Viveka beamed, as if she were responsible for her younger sister’s cleverness.

“That might work,” I agreed. “If you come up with any way to capture moonlight, even the slightest idea, let me know.” I bit my lip, excited by this surprising glimmer of hope that had appeared, essentially from a completely unexpected source. “You may have saved untold lives,” I said to the swan maiden. “If you would wish to go, I am sure there is room at the University for a mind like yours.”

Casidhe’s eye glowed. Her sisters reached out and squeezed her hands and arms, anywhere they could reach her. They smiled as if I had offered a place for all of them.

If I could, I decided, I would find a place for all of them to further their education. I had a feeling that it would be difficult to drag Viveka away from her home and garden, but perhaps education would be enough of a temptation to call her away.

*~*~*

I
could not sleep, despite the comfort of the bed that had been prepared for us. My mind kept trying to think of way we could defeat the siren, fulfill the oaths that had been made, and keep her from playing her cruel games with others. I watched the canvas above me sway in a breeze. The hushed sigh of the shore whispered softly, murmuring that I should try to sleep.

Timothy slept with one arm thrown across my body. I held Asher, with his curls up against my nose, scented with the lavender and water lily scent that the swan maidens used.

I closed my eyes.

I dreamed, and I knew I was dreaming.

In my dream, I could not find Timothy and Asher. The siren’s fog had come upon us, and swallowed them up. I ran, gasping and crying out for my husband and child.

The mist swirled around the dark figure that approached us. It did not display any sign of haste, but walked slowly towards us. The approach was ominous. This creature was confident in her powers. She would not hide from us.

I pressed my hands against my ear bones. Despite the protection of the earplugs we were wearing, I could still feel the vibration of the siren song as it swarmed around us. Was it possible that the siren was getting stronger, with every person she took?

My bones throbbed in response to the sound that I could not hear with my ears. Even as I shriveled instantly with fear, there was a part of me that desperately wanted to know to what it was about the siren song that drove all who heard it into madness. Was it a beautiful song or terrible? Could it be both terrible and beautiful? My head throbbed with pressure. My fingers clawed towards my earplugs on their own accord.

I had to hear the music I couldn't fight it anymore. The compulsion to yank the plugs from my ears and listen was pervasive. Only my mother strong grip on my arm kept me from making a fatal mistake. She caught my eyes with her own, serious, dark ones, and shook her head slowly. I could see in her eyes that she would not let me make this mistake.

I winced as I came back to myself. I didn't want to imagine what kind of control she would have if I, too, fell under her spell. What would happen to Faerie if that happened? I couldn't let that happen. No matter what it took was going to get my husband and my son back, and restore my land back to how it had been before the siren’s deadly invasion.

The air around us grew thick and heavy. It felt like a storm was building up around us. I could sense the electricity in the air. As if in time with my thoughts, a bolt of lightning struck out, not far from where we stood.

My eyes closed against the brilliant flash of light. When I opened them again, the figure approaching from the distance was gone. I stepped back in reflex, biting back a scream, as she reappeared face-to-face with me-- so close that, had she been a living, breathing creature, I would have tasted her breath on my own lips. Her face was terrible to behold. Her white eyes stared through mine. They should have been blind; instead, they seemed to pierce through me. Her hair, tossed long across her shoulders, was white as lightning. It curled and streamed around her, driven by the wind and the storm in all directions. Her face was thin, withdrawn, and pale. Her features were small and delicate. She should have been beautiful. Instead, she was a creature of nightmares.

I didn't know how much of that was some kind of curse she lived under, or if she had always appeared this way. I had never met a siren before. Despite all the fairytales I had read about mermaids and others of those types, she appeared almost human in form. She wore a long, flowing, white gown that blended in with the waves of her hair. Her frame was thin, and delicate. There were no gills or tails in sight. Beneath the billowing of her gown, she appeared to have legs. This was no mermaid. She seemed like some dark spirit—an angry bitter thing. She held all the rage of the sea in her form. I saw that there were strands of seaweed and pieces of driftwood, shells, and all sorts of ocean type dexterous through her hair and tangled up in her gown. Her fingers were long and claw-like. They reached out her sides, curling into fists and straightening again. Her mouth was open wide, her throat throbbing with the sound of the song that I could feel, but could not hear.

I had no doubt in that moment—if I hadn't been magically protected by my mother’s gifts, I would have fallen under her spell just as everyone else had.

My mother squeezed my hand. Her touch gave me courage—a badly needed boost of confidence. I had no doubts that I could face this creature. I was so grateful to not have to face her alone.

Through the wind pulling at my clothes and against my face, the burning salt in the air, I shouted to the creature that stood in front of me. “Stop it! Stop it, now! I command you to stop!”

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, but, then she closed her mouth. With a look of absolute hatred in her eyes, she retreated.

I turned and the dream changed.

I stood on the highest point of a great lighthouse. It was a place I had seen before, but whole and new, instead of broken to rubble from time and weather. I paced the length of the lighthouse, wringing my hands.

Why did he not come? Where was he? Had he broken his promise, after all we had gone through?

My long hair whipped around me. In my sleep, I realized that it was dark, instead of the red I expected. The wind caught it and tossed it around me, echoing the turmoil that bubbled underneath my breast bone.

Tears slid from my eyes, but the wind dried them on my face before they could fall to the stones beneath my feet.

I pulled my comb from where I kept it. I pulled it through the tangles of my hair, trying to focus on the sharp pull as the teeth of the comb yanked through my curls, instead of the fear that rested heavily in my breast.

He would come. He had promised. I knew that he would come. As surely as he loved me, he would be here, to take me away to a place where we could be happy.

I hummed under my breath, heedless to the storm that awoke in response. I hummed tunelessly as I combed and combed my hair.

He would come.

He would.

He had to.

I awoke with the taste of salt in my mouth.