Emma
As we turned off the main road, the trees on both sides of us seemed to crowd the tiny road to the point that I worried we might hit low hanging branches as we drove. When the road circled closer to the ocean, there were breaks in the trees to the rocky cliffs beyond. They were oddly illuminated by the final rays of the setting sun.
Vaguely, I remembered what little I knew of this lake and the waterfall. It was said to be one of the most beautiful places in town. But even as a kid, my parents had warned me about going on these lands. It was private property, and trespassers were dealt with.
But as we continued on, the trees parted as we approached a parking lot. Ahead of us was a massive cliff, without the smallest trace of a waterfall or lake. I frowned, scanning the area, but found nothing of the beautiful place I’d heard described so many times.
“I thought it was a waterfall,” I whispered. We parked at the edge of the sand, in an empty, beat-up parking lot that desperately needed repaving. The concrete had turned gravelly, to the point that it was past saving and the whole thing would need to be dug up and redone.
The area the parking lot sat on was raised, almost like it was at the top of a little hill with the cliff face to one side and the ocean to the other, and the path down to the beach area was a steady downward slope between them.
There was a sad note to Deva’s voice as she said, “It’s been dry for years. But this is where they do their ritual on the full moon, where the river used to fall into the sea. You can’t really see it from here, but just around that bend,” Deva pointed to where the coastline curved slightly out of sight, “the beach ends and there’s a rocky area that used to be a pool for the waterfall before it met the ocean.”
The four of us got out of the car and shuffled toward the edge of the parking lot until we could see the water below and the spot that Deva had talked about. I glanced between the area that looked like where the waterfall had come from and where it would have pooled before meeting the ocean.
As I looked down the path, I saw several sirens already lined the rocky shore, even though it wasn’t fully dark yet. Even as I watched, the sunset seemed to fade until grey light was all that was left. But even beneath that light, I could see that the women were gorgeous. Like trophy wives with fish tails. Their hair was long and wild, yet somehow looked like perfection. I could swear it glinted in the remaining light like gold and silver. Honestly, it reminded me a little of fish scales, which made sense.
“If they start singing and it gets through our ear plugs, we’ll do anything they ask,” Carol whispered, a healthy dose of both fear and awe in her voice. “Anything.”
“Hang on a second,” I said quietly, pulling out one of the plugs. “How am I hearing you guys fine, but these are supposed to somehow be effective?”
“I spelled them." Carol grinned at me, clearly proud of herself. “They will only really block out the power of the siren songs, but not talking. We might even hear a little of the songs, but not be enchanted by them. I’m not quite sure about that part of it, but it should work. Neat, huh?”
“Wow. Yeah. That seems like it would be an advanced spell,” I said, trying to acknowledge what I thought was probably some hard work, but not wanting to sound patronizing or as though I didn't appreciate it. Praising my friends felt a little like a double edged sword these days since I wasn't sure what was considered easy and what was hard for them to do. Yet another thing to add to my ever expanding list of things to chat with them about when we had time.
Carol beamed at me. “It was! It took me most of the day to get it down. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure it’ll work.”
Well, couldn't ask for better than the same percentage they used for contraception. Plus, it was better than no percent. I scarfed the last of my protection cookie and pretended it was a courage cookie as well as I said, “Let’s go.”
We walked down the winding path. It took a while, but it was the only really safe way to get down to the shore below without risking a broken ankle. Even the path, which was supposed to be safe, was a lot of sandy dirt and rocks with some planks of wood in it to make steps. Occasionally, when there was a particularly steep area, there would be a section of handrail as well, though it was wood of course, and since it was wood it was warped and split. Just looking at it gave me splinters, so I kept my hands to myself and focused on where I was putting my feet. I tried to avoid the rocky areas, hoping to make our descent as quiet as possible.
As soon as we got close, we were met at the end of the path by two men. It wasn’t until we got really close that I realized they were sirens as well. Their features were a little alien. A little too sharp to be human. They had high, angular cheekbones and noses that looked a little flat. They almost reminded me of a snake. Their skin was pearlescent. It didn't matter the shade; all of them had a sheen to them that made them seem even more fish-like. When one of the men tilted his head and looked at us, his eyes blinked, but not in the way I expected. A clear third eyelid, like a snake's, flicked over the surface. My guess was that it was so they could protect their eyes while underwater but still see. That didn't mean it didn't creep me out, though. I had to pull my gaze down to compose myself, only to realize that it was the worst thing I could have done. Were they naked?
I swallowed hard and raised my head, willing myself not to blush as I looked past the two men that stood silently in front of us. “We’re looking for my brother,” I said loudly. “Henry Foxx.”
All the gathered women that had been lounging at the edge of the ocean jerked their heads toward us when I said my brother’s name. One of them hissed in our direction while another of them separated from the group, and as she stood, her fins sort of smoked. Her long, silvery-platinum hair seemed to dry almost instantly and form beautiful natural waves that most women, including myself, would envy. By the time she was fully out of the water, she had legs. Long, perfectly smooth legs that if given some heels would have men falling to the ground and weeping.
As my gaze took her in I was thankful that her long hair covered her boobs since she wasn’t wearing a shirt, just like the two men who were still blocking our path. At least she had on a loin cloth of a sort though. As she got closer, her eyes glittered like sapphires in the light, but there was something cold and harsh in them, something that made me want to run in the opposite direction, but I couldn't. Not when I was so close to getting Henry back. Several more of the sirens followed her, all similarly dressed with the loin cloth motif being the main, or rather, only, item of clothing they wore.
“These are our sacred grounds,” she said in a deep, formal voice. “You must leave at once.”
"I want my brother back. Where's Henry?" I demanded.
She let out a little screech at his name but her voice was drowned out by the sound of an approaching boat. We all turned toward the coast to see a small speed boat coming closer to shore. Behind it, the moon was peeking over the horizon, washing everything in a pale light, including the rapidly approaching boat. Even though it was still bobbing over the waves as it came closer and closer to the shoreline, I could see that there was a man tied up in the center area. He had some sort of bag over his head. My heart raced with anxiety.
It was Henry. It had to be.
For an overwhelming second, I just wanted to start running. I didn’t care about supernaturals, magic, or sirens; I just wanted to hold my brother and know that he was okay.
Unless someone else had pissed the sirens off enough to warrant being tied up and blindfolded.
Somehow I doubted it.
More sirens came out of the water and their mouths began to move, but no sound came out. I knew, without being able to hear it, that they were singing. A strange urge came over me to remove the earplugs and just get a taste of their enchanting voices, but I pushed the feeling aside, recalling all the tales about sirens sending people to their deaths. This was one supernatural experience I was glad not to experience.
The sirens turned, coming toward us. For a second it felt like I was in some kind of weird musical or flash mob. They all moved with an unnerving synchronicity. Add in their mouths moving as if singing, and all we needed was a stage to really get things going.
Deva backed up rapidly since she didn’t have her earplugs in. We gave each other panicked looks and retreated with Deva so the sirens wouldn’t know their song didn’t affect us. As they drew closer, I could hear their song, as if they were singing from a great distance. It was beautiful, but it just didn't make me feel compelled to do anything. It was sad and mournful, as though they'd lost something great, something that was of immeasurable importance to them.
As we rose back up the path, gaining some elevation, and the boat came to the shore below, I was able to see down into the boat more clearly. And I recognized the shirt. I'd purchased it for him for his birthday a few years ago. It was bright red and had a picture of a game controller on it and then in bright white letters it read Keep Calm and Blame it on the Lag. That was definitely Henry. I'd bought it off some obscure internet store that catered to gamers, so it wasn't like every guy out there had one.
I tugged on my ear, the signal we’d decided to use if we wanted to attack. Beth slapped Deva lightly on her cheek. She shook her head and pulled her earplugs out of her pocket, stuffing them in her ears as fast as she could. The rest of us pulled our hair back, revealing our ear plugs.
“Give my brother back or face the consequences,” I said in my biggest, baddest voice, leveling my take-no-bull stare on the female siren that had approached us. Was she a queen? A mayor? I had no idea, but clearly she was the one in command.
“Your brother killed a siren,” the siren queen said. “We are owed a blood debt.”
My stomach bottomed out and I wanted to throw up. Henry had killed someone? He had killed a siren?
No.
That wasn't possible, was it?
There wasn't a violent bone in his body. When the vampire had spoken about a blood debt, I’d assumed my brother accidentally hurt a siren. Not killed one. It didn’t seem possible. Although, I hadn't known about his gambling either, so maybe I just had a blind spot when it came to my brother.
I didn't want to believe it though, so I glanced at my friends, all of whom looked just as shocked as me. None of us had expected this. None of us thought Henry was a killer either. In all our planning, we’d only discussed being able to reason with the sirens if he hurt one of them. The ladies had said that the sirens were crueler than the vampires and the shifters, but even they might hesitate to sacrifice a human who had ties to the supernatural world.
But in the books I’d read stories about people who had killed sirens. None of them survived once the other sirens found out. And the other supernaturals seemed to accept that one life for another was a fair exchange. I didn’t think my friends would be able to stop the sirens if Henry had killed someone. I wasn’t even sure if Karma could.
Now we just had to find out if it was true.