Lullaby (21 page)

“Um, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Harper stood up and walked away from the bed, away from Daniel. “I’m just leaving. Did you need anything?”

“No, I just…” Gemma paused. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m just feeling a bit edgy, I guess.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Harper said. “I’ll be home really quick, though, and we can talk more then. Okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Gemma said, and she did sound a little relieved. “I’ll see you soon.”

Harper hung up the phone and stood with her back to Daniel for a minute, thinking. She was right at the bottom of the steps leading out of his boat. When she turned back around to face him, he was still sitting on the bed, watching her.

“If I don’t talk to you anymore, I want you to know that it’s not because I don’t like you,” Harper said carefully. “Because it’s pretty obvious that I do.”

He lowered his eyes then, probably knowing that whatever was coming next wasn’t good.

“I can’t have you as a part of my life, because I need to take care of my sister,” Harper said. “And I do like you, so I don’t want you to end up getting your heart ripped out.”

“When you say you don’t want me to have my heart ripped out, do you mean that metaphorically or literally?” Daniel asked.

“Maybe both,” she admitted. “’Bye, Daniel. And thank you in advance for understanding.”

He gave her a small wave before she turned and darted out of the boat. She had to climb over the rail to get back to the dock, and she practically fell in the water again, but there was no way she was asking for his help.

Once she was safely on the dock, she walked quickly back to her car, nearly jogging, and the entire time she had to fight not to cry.

TWENTY-FOUR

Today

Harper sat on her bed, watching intently as Gemma spoke. Gemma sat curled up at the other end of the bed, holding Harper’s worn-out old teddy bear in her arms. If they hadn’t been talking about monsters and murders, it would’ve reminded Gemma of the late-night girl talks that she and Harper used to have.

When Harper came home a few hours ago from whatever errand she’d done, she’d looked rather sad. Gemma had tried to talk to her about it, but Harper wouldn’t have it. Harper sent Alex home and insisted that the two of them really talk about what was going on. Not just because Harper wanted to understand what Gemma had been through, but because she was hoping it might help them figure out a way to break the sirens’ curse.

Gemma had been happy to tell Harper, even if it hadn’t been necessary for giving her more information. It was such a relief to be able to talk to someone about the crazy stuff that had been going on. It was like a giant rock had been lifted from her chest, and Gemma could finally breathe again.

Gemma started from the beginning and told Harper everything she knew. About how the sirens had tricked her into drinking out of the flask, and how turning into the mermaid form felt amazing. When she told Harper exactly what was in the flask, Harper paled, but Gemma pressed on.

She explained the curse as best she could—about why Demeter had punished the girls, so now they were stuck together, shifting between mermaid form and bird-monster. She told Harper why she’d left, about what had happened at Bernie’s Island, how she didn’t know Bernie was dead then, but she knew she had to do whatever it took to protect Alex and Harper.

She told Harper about the way things had been at Sawyer’s house, and how she’d been so sick at first that her hair had been falling out. She even told her about the weird hunger lust she’d felt, and how she’d lost control for a moment and kissed Sawyer.

There were only two things she left out of the story. Gemma just couldn’t bring herself to tell Harper about feeding and that she’d killed someone. Nor could she tell her that the sirens needed to eat boys’ hearts to survive. And thankfully, Harper didn’t ask.

Gemma knew that Harper had to have suspicions. She’d seen the bodies, so Harper had to know the sirens killed boys and tore them open for a reason. But it must have been one of those things that Harper didn’t really want to know, the way sometimes parents suspect their kids are having sex but never ask. Sometimes not knowing is better.

The other thing Gemma couldn’t tell her was that she might die. Harper was hoping the sirens would wait as long as possible to find Gemma, but what she didn’t know was that they couldn’t wait too long. If they didn’t find her within a couple weeks, Gemma would be dead.

The reason Gemma didn’t tell Harper this wasn’t so much that she didn’t want to worry her, but that she didn’t want Harper to prevent it. Gemma didn’t want to die, but right now it was the only way she knew how to break the curse. It might be better if they didn’t find her: if she died, so would the sirens.

“I’m sorry,” Harper finally said. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and she rested her chin on them.

“Why are you sorry?” Gemma asked, tilting her head to look at her sister.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through all this,” Harper said. “And you had to go through it alone. So much of this happened when you were at home, and you didn’t feel like you could tell me or Dad any of this.”

“Harper.” Gemma pushed herself up so she was sitting straighter. “You guys didn’t do anything wrong. I couldn’t tell you any of this because it’s
insane
.”

“No, I know, I’m not looking for reassurance,” Harper said. “I understand why you did what you did, and I don’t blame you. I just wish … I wish you didn’t have to go through all this, and I wish I knew how to help you.”

“You’re, like, two years older than me, and you’re my sister,” Gemma said. “You’re not supposed to have all the answers or be able to save me from anything.”

Harper pursed her lips and stared down at her bedspread without saying anything. Gemma hadn’t meant to make her sad, and now she almost wished she hadn’t told her anything. It felt good getting everything off her chest, and for the first time Gemma felt like she wasn’t completely alone in this. But she didn’t know if it was worth upsetting Harper like this.

“You remember when we were kids, after Mom had her accident?” Harper asked at length.

“Yeah, of course I do,” Gemma said.

“Mom was in a coma for, like, six months, and I was positive she was gonna die,” Harper said. “But you never gave up hope. Every day, we’d visit her, and you’d say, ‘Today will be the day she wakes up.’ And we’d get there, and she’d still be in a coma, and you’d just say, ‘Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow she’ll wake up.’”

“In the beginning, you and Dad tried to tell me that I was wrong,” Gemma said. “Dad would tell me, ‘The hospital will call if Mom wakes up, and they didn’t call. So she’s not awake today.’ And I would just insist that she would be.”

“Yeah, so eventually we just gave up and told you not to be upset if she wasn’t,” Harper said. “Not that you ever did get upset. I mean, sometimes you would, and you’d cry because you missed Mom. But you never threw a fit or anything. You just said, ‘Tomorrow.’”

“I guess I was a pretty optimistic kid.” Gemma smiled sadly at the memory of herself.

“You were,” Harper agreed. “But what you don’t know is that every day when we got to the hospital, even though I was certain Mom hadn’t woken up, a little part of me believed she had. Because you had so much conviction. I thought one day you’d have to be right.”

“And I was,” Gemma said with pride. “One day, Mom woke up. Not exactly the way I had imagined or hoped for, but she woke up.”

“But you knew everything would be okay,” Harper said, looking at Gemma with tears in her eyes. “And I didn’t.”

“It’s okay.” Gemma didn’t understand why Harper was so upset, so she slid closer to her. “Everything turned out the way it was supposed to.”

“I know.” Harper sniffled and looked over at her. “But this time, I feel like you don’t know everything’s going to be okay.”

“Things are a lot more complicated than they were then,” Gemma said. “And I understand what’s happening. I was seven then, I didn’t know what a coma even meant. But now I fully understand the seriousness of what we’re up against.”

“I don’t know how everything is going to work out,” Harper admitted. “I honestly haven’t a clue about how we’re going to stop the sirens and break the curse. But I do know that everything will be okay.”

Gemma lowered her eyes and shook her head. “You don’t have to say stuff just to reassure me. I appreciate you trying, but I know how impossible this all is.”

“No, Gemma, listen to me.” Harper put her hand on top of Gemma’s and met her eyes. “Today, I don’t know how to stop this and save you. So, tomorrow, then. Tomorrow we’ll know how.”

Gemma smiled at her sister with tears in her eyes. “What if we don’t find it tomorrow?”

“There’s always a tomorrow,” Harper said. “And we’ll keep looking every day until tomorrow finally comes. I never stopped believing in you when we were little, and I’ll never stop fighting for you now.”

Gemma wanted to believe her sister’s words, but she knew something that Harper didn’t—that there wouldn’t always be a tomorrow. She only had a handful left if the sirens didn’t come for her.

But she also knew that they would stop at nothing to find her. Penn cared too much for her own life to just let Gemma slip away, dooming them all to die.

Harper put her arm around her and squeezed her shoulders, hugging her closer. “Life would be so much easier if we got to have normal sister conversations again. Remember when we stayed up all night talking because you were upset that some guy didn’t call you after a party?”

“Yeah.” Gemma laughed. “And now Alex calls me all the time. But it could be worse. We could have the siren issues
and
Alex not calling me after a party.”

“Yeah.” Harper laughed. “That would be worse.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Dinner

The house should’ve been tenser. Gemma was still in trouble, and Brian should’ve stayed angry with her. Not to mention that they hadn’t figured out how to save Gemma from the sirens. Harper had stayed home from work again, refusing to leave Gemma unguarded, even for a few hours.

Both Harper and Gemma knew the sirens were coming after her—it was just a matter of time. They spent a long time discussing possible ways to break the curse and doing what research they could think of, but when they came up with nothing new or substantial, they prepared themselves to fight the sirens.

Harper put earplugs in her dresser drawer so the siren song couldn’t enchant her, and she shoved a butcher knife under her pillow. She put a baseball bat under her bed, and they brought in the shovel from out back and put it in the front hall closet.

Their father had plenty of tools, like saws and even an ice pick, out in his work area in the garage. Harper considered bringing them in, but they felt too gruesome to fight with. She could still get to them if she needed to, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

In a way, all the prep work they’d done reminded Harper of
Home Alone
, like they were children setting up booby traps for burglars. Gemma went along with everything, but she seemed dubious.

The trouble was that neither of them knew what else to do. They hadn’t found a way to break the curse, so they were only left with fighting back. Harper would do whatever it took to protect herself and her family, and if she had to kill the sirens, she would.

Once the preparation was done, and Harper had stashed weapons everywhere she could think of without Brian finding them, an odd peace settled over her. She’d done everything she could. Now they had to wait.

Brian came home from work that night in an astonishingly good mood. His daughter was home safe and sound. Because of the holiday on Sunday, he had Monday off, giving him a three-day weekend. That seemed to set the tone for the whole night.

Harper was making spaghetti and meatballs for supper, and Gemma offered to help. Brian cracked a beer in the living room to watch TV and relax after work for a bit, leaving the girls in the kitchen to handle supper.

“Harper,” Gemma said, barely stifling a giggle as she held up a misshapen meatball for Harper to inspect. “What do you think of my balls?”

“You’re so immature.” Harper rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smirking at her sister.

They stood at the kitchen counter, making the meatballs. Harper seasoned the raw hamburger, and they rolled it into balls. She’d done it a hundred times before, sometimes with Gemma’s help, but this was the first time that Gemma had been unable to stop giggling.

“Oh, come on, Harper,” Gemma said, refusing to be deterred. “It’s funny. Admit it’s funny.”

“It’s really not.” Harper laughed, but only because Gemma’s laughter was contagious. She shook her head and motioned to the meatball Gemma was making. “That one’s lumpy.”

Gemma burst out laughing at that, and when Harper scowled at her, it only made her laugh harder.

“What has gotten into you?” Harper asked.

“I’m just glad to be home, I guess.”

Gemma tossed a meatball at Harper, and it narrowly missed her, landing on the floor with an unpleasant splat.

“Hey,” Harper said. “Don’t waste food.”

“Sorry.” Gemma grabbed a paper towel to wipe the meatball off the floor. “When was the last time we had a food fight, though?”

“I don’t know.” Harper looked over her shoulder to watch her sister. “When I was, like, six or something.”

“Exactly!” Gemma insisted, and leaned on the counter next to Harper. “We’re really overdue for another one.”

“I really don’t think we are.” Harper shook her head, but she smiled. “It’s a waste of food, and it’s a mess that I’ll have to clean up.”

“Harper!” Gemma threw her head back and groaned. “Let’s say this is my last night here—”

“It’s not.” Harper cut her off and looked at Gemma severely. “We’ll find a way—”

“No, Harper, listen to me.” Gemma cut her off. “I’m not saying it
is
. I’m just saying, what if? Because there is a chance that we might not have that many nights together as a family. I mean, even if we fix this whole curse thing, you’re leaving in a matter of weeks for college.”