How (Not) to Soothe a Siren (Cindy Eller Book 9) (7 page)

“B
ad stuff,” Midir said when I was finished with my story. “Oh, but she’s a clever one, isn’t she?” His voice was full of a begrudging sort of respect. He flashed his teeth at me in a smile. “We selkie folk appreciate the clever tricksters, even when we are the ones made into fools.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why would anyone want to do something like this?”

“Power,” Midir, Timothy, and Merlin said with one voice.

I shivered. “There must be an easier way to collect power.”

My mother shook back her thick mane of dark hair. She had to be around the same age as the selkie woman, Cliodhna, but silver had yet to touch her hair. Knowing my mother, that wasn’t due to any dye or artifice, it was just in her nature. “She is using the laws of Magic,” she said. “If she just snatched the power she wanted, we would be able to stop her. Magic would be on our side. But, instead, she has taken the power as a default on their promises. They are the oath breakers, and Magic cannot protect them from promises they willingly made.”

“There must be something we can do,” I said, grinding my teeth with frustration. “We wouldn’t have come all this way just to do nothing. Faerie wouldn’t have called us, if there was nothing we could do.”

“Unless you can hand me a rainbow,” Midir said, with a bark of laughter. “I cannot see how you can change a thing.”

“That’s an idea,” Timothy said. He leaned forward. “What if we fulfilled the debts? Would your people be returned?”

Midir looked thoughtful. “I should think so. If the contract was filled, she would have no right to them.”

“Indeed,” Merlin interjected. He’d been listening intently to every word spoken, hovering over his third bowl of fish stew. The tips of his whiskers were coated with cream. “You must outwit the sorceress and play her at her own game.” He thumped his knee with a fist, nearly upsetting his food.

“Yes, but you would do well to be wary,” Cliodhna warned. “Else, you fall into the same trap as we did.”

“How did you come to make such an oath?” I asked. “You must have known that you could never fulfill it.”

Midir turned red and mumbled something under his breath.

“Oh, there’s no shame in it,” Cliodhna scolded. “There is no man or woman or beast who can keep a clear head when the siren sings.”

“A siren?” Timothy asked doubtfully. “You made an oath to a siren?”

My mother reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Don’t make the mistake of trivializing a siren,” she warned, softly. “Forget all you know of merfolk, for none of the tales do them justice. A siren is a dangerous foe—and a deadly friend. Her song can make anyone forget, even those things most precious in his life. She need not sing to sway minds, her voice alone is dangerous. One word from those poisoned lips and the mighty fall before her.”

Midir nodded. “Sadly, the lady is correct. Had we thought to stop our ears, perhaps we would have made a safer bargain, but her voice, her words, and that face…” He shivered, but from what emotion I could not tell. “She befuddled even this hardheaded fool. I would have agreed to carry the ocean to her in buckets, had she requested it, and done it gladly.”

“But the tasks must be possible, or else the Magic would not have accepted it as a true oath,” my mother said.

“Pray tell, lady,” Midir said slowly. “How would you carry a rainbow?”

“Or capture moonlight?” I added, curious to see what response she might have.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But, I do know that there must be a solution. That alone should offer some hope.”

She was right, it did. But, it was not enough hope. We needed something real, something solid. We needed the key to how to face this siren and undo the harm she had unleashed on the world—my world. My responsibility.

“How many others has she played this game with?” Timothy asked. His voice was quiet, but his words captured the attention of all of us in the cottage. “We have already met two clans who have fallen victim to her tricks. There must be others out there.”

I nodded my agreement. I wasn’t sure if Faerie would have reacted so strongly for two clans. I would have liked to believe that it would care, but if there were many groups who had fallen as prey… well, then I knew what my mission was.

Faerie had called me to right the wrongs, and settled the score on one scheming siren.

*~*~*

W
e spent the night among the selkie folk.

They were all great singers. They treated us to an informal concert of voice, fiddle, drum, and a flute-like instrument. Their voices were rich, or haunting, or wild by turn. I could hear the sea in their music. Everything in this place was touched by the roar of the tide beyond the cottage doors. Even the fire, burning low, sparked with the blues and greens of wood cast up by the tides.

“Call me a bride from beyond the waves
, Midir sang, his voice a true tenor, clear and bright.

“Oh, bring a selkie maid to my door

Tell her that this man is hardworking and true

Call her singing from the shore.”

“Drop in the sea seven tears,”
the others joined in.

Call the selkie maid from the sea

A blessing from the waters she’ll bring.”

The haunting melody, at once playful and solemn, made the back of my throat ache. What must it be like, to love a selkie, or to be one? Forever torn between two worlds, two realities.

I was not the only one touched by the music. To my astonishment, my mother sang a duet with Cian, a vaguely familiar Gaelic lullaby. The young man’s voice was of breathtaking purity. He did not falter as the notes danced and twirled around the melody. My mother’s voice added a husky counterpoint to his brilliance.

I rocked Asher in my arms, swaying to the music and beat.

This journey had already taught me so much. I knew now that I could never be contented to be the kind of leader who hid away in a castle, away from the folk of my land. Faerie had been locked away from the world too long. It was too easy for the Fae to hide away from all else.

But, I was not Fae. I was half-blooded. I would not be the same kind of leader my father had been. I would not hide myself behind walls of pink marble. I would know my people, from the smallest imp to the grandest dragons. I would not just lead the High Fae; I would care for and listen to all of the creatures of Faerie.

In the morning, we would climb the steep hill back up to the lighthouse, where we would meet up with the Huntsman. Where he would guide us, I did not know—perhaps, to others who needed us.

Somehow, I would find a way to bring the clans back together. Somehow, I would stop the siren from doing harm.

I leaned against Timothy’s knee, from where he sat behind me. His fingers stroked through my hair, gently, as his foot tapped to the music. I looked up at him, his face flickering in the firelight. I was so grateful to have him by my side. Together, I knew we would be able to give Faerie the leadership it deserved. Together, we would face the siren. And, together, we would face the mess Owen Dark had made of the Dark Lands.

*~*~*

I
awoke to my mother making herself busy in the kitchen.

The sight made me pause. I watched her surreptitiously as I nursed Asher. My mother and kitchens were not on the best of terms. I cringed at the thought of her attempting to make breakfast for the selkie and us folk.

I frowned as I saw the ingredients before her. Beeswax? Tree resin? Hopefully, she wasn’t going to ask us to eat that kind of combination.

I relaxed as I realized that she’d never intended for her concoction to be for consumption. I should have realized sooner, but sleep had clouded my brain. The expression on her face was one she reserved for making potions—something she had a gift for creating. My mother’s Magic was that of the Earth—living things, growing, healing. All my life she had kept gardens and made tonics and potions for every occasion.

“What are you making?” I asked, as she frowned down at the ingredients before her.

She looked up at me and offered me an abstract smile. “Hopefully, a defense mechanism against the siren.” She put her hands over her ears demonstratively. “She can’t manipulate us, if we can’t hear her.”

“You’re amazing,” I said.

She raised her eyebrows at me. “Thank you. But, where did that come from?”

“When everyone else worries or runs and hides, you come up with a solution,” I said, shaking my head. “You raised me and my sisters practically alone, and yet you still were true to your Magic and your Gifts. Seriously, you’re incredible.”

Mom laughed. “I’ve done plenty of running in my time, Cindy. I was sleeping there, in my cot, when I realized that I needed to throw something together for all of us, just in case we come face-to-face with this villainous mermaid.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Do you need any help?” I asked.

My mother looked horrified. “Gracious, no!”

I had to bite back my laughter. As a child, I had been a disaster when it came to her Magic and her plants. Apparently, she still didn’t trust me to help her out with one of her potions.

I watched as she tapped her chin with a forefinger, her brow slightly furrowed with concentration. Nodding abruptly, she began to knead the mixture on the board in front of her, adding pinches of this and that as she worked.

I raised my nose, catching hints of evergreen, rosemary, mint, and honey. There were other scents that I didn’t recognize, no doubt from plants and herbs I knew nothing about.

My mother’s Magic was green and gold. It danced around her in as she worked, invisible to the human eye, but brilliant with my other sight. I always forgot just how strong she was, but watching her work, I realized again why she was considered the strongest Earth Witch of her generation.

The concoction she rolled in front of her, began to take on a sort of warm depth to it, the kind that told me it was absorbing Magic and becoming something new and powerful. It spoke of fire, and the desert heat—things opposite of the ocean that roared just outside the cottage door. I watched as my mother added a large pinch of sea salt, and then mixed that in thoroughly, as well.

“So,” I said, softly so as not to interrupt her while she was crafting. “Antithesis and then something closely associated?”

Mom nodded. “The sea salt ties the whole thing in to the siren’s Magic. Without it, we would just block her. With it, the Magic will absorb and block her powers. Just to be extra safe. I’ve added a bit of every element. It might be overkill, but…” She shrugged. “My grandson is out here. Nothing is overkill when it comes to protecting him.”

“What is it?” I asked, as she started cutting small pieces off the whole mushy block she had created.

She grinned. “Ear plugs, of course.”

I giggled. Magical ear plugs. I’d have to add that to my arsenal of armor. What was going to be next? Eyelash guards? Nose plugs?

“I got the idea from the Odyssey,” she said. “Hopefully they’ll work. Unfortunately, I can’t test them ahead of time.”

“They’ll work,” I said confidently. I could see the spell she had created, overlapping and mixed through the concoction. “She could sing right in front of us, and nothing would get through.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Mom went to the sink to wash her hands.

“It’s a good thing you came with us,” I said. “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to make Magical ear plugs. We could have come across the siren unprotected.”

My mother waved her hand dismissively, but I could tell that she was pleased. “We might not need them at all,” she said. “Asher should be fine. He’s so young; he should be immune to the siren’s powers. I’ve made some ear plugs for him anyway, but I doubt he’ll need them.”

I hoped she was right. I was dependent on her skill to keep my family safe.

Part of me would always need my mom, I knew. We’d had a complicated relationship over the years, but it was Mom that I turned to when I needed help. I wondered if I would ever grow out of that impulse.

I hoped not.

There was something beautiful about seeing the different generations interact. If only my grandmother had understood. My mother hadn’t betrayed her by becoming pregnant…