Siren’s Surge

by Lauren Harris

  “Liar.” There was no heat to the world, just a tired acceptance. “But you also never have to. I’d help, regardless. What do you need?”

  This time, I don’t dodge the question. I brace myself on the edge of the counter and dredge up every detail about the monster stalking me that I can remember. His ability to summon storms, to speak across great distances, to transport me, at least mentally. The hint of tentacles that keep coming up and how he looks in his human form.

  Amae is quiet for a long time and I reheat my kettle while she thinks. There’s no point in rushing her when she gets like this, and I learned a long time ago to be patient. My sister has an internal database that would put any computer to shame, but it sometimes takes her awhile to flip through it to match the things we know against the thing we’re looking for.

  Finally she curses softly. “Lorelei, you’re in trouble.”

  “We’ve covered this. I’m well aware that I’m in trouble.”

  “No, I mean you’re in trouble. The only creature that fits what you’ve experienced up to this point…” She hesitated. “Lorelei, it’s a kraken. Possibly The Kraken.”

  The breath whooshes from my lungs and I have to cling to the counter to keep on my feet. Somehow, even when faced with the various possibilities, I’d never once considered that the kraken might be real. “He’s just a legend.” Surely my sister is wrong… She never has been before, but there’s always a first time.

  “Correction—we always assumed he’s just a legend. Our people haven’t had any interaction with him in living memory.”

  I snort. “That’s not saying much. We haven’t been back to this world in living memory, either, and yet we exist. What can you tell me about him?”

  “That’s just it—I have only legends and rumors. Nothing concrete.”

  I close my eyes and strive for patience. It’s not my sister’s fault that my own personal monster is the stuff legends are made of. Literally, in this case. “Okay, then tell me the legends and rumors. Please,” I belatedly add.

  “Eager for all the stories, regardless of what is fact or not. Nice to know some things never change.” But she doesn’t sound particularly bothered by it. “He’s a magic eater. I don’t know if he can’t create it on his own or if he is magic and consumes other types, but that one trait is consistent across all the legends.”

  “Nothing like a bite of merfolk magic to hit the spot.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.” Though what she’s saying doesn’t make sense. If he wants magic, he could just gobble up my magic without bothering with me. Even separated from my powers, I’m not sure I’ll survive if they’re consumed. I didn’t even realize it was possible in the first place. I stare at the whistling tea kettle. “Okay, what else?”

  “Supposedly, he’s ancient. There are legends of him existing as far back as there are accounts of us existing here, which amounts to thousands of years.” This time, her hesitation lasted longer. “This is just rumor.”

  “Amae, spit it out. I understand that it’s unverified and I won’t hold it against you if it ends up being wrong.” I take a deep breath and try to temper my tone. “At this point, any information is more information than I have. And he… Amae, he can get to me. No matter where I am, he can get to me. I’m scared and I’m furious and if there’s the slightest chance that an ancient rumor can give me an edge to put this asshole to rest, I’ll take it.”

  “I don’t know that he can be killed.”

  “Amae.”

  She sighed. “The rumor is that he’s Abel. Or at least that he started out as Abel.”

  I blink, waiting for her words to rearrange themselves into an order that makes sense. They refuse to comply. “Abel,” I repeat. “You’re talking Cain and Abel.” Origin myths are a dime a dozen, and Christianity is no different, for all that it gets uppity about having their written recordings. But just because something is a myth doesn’t mean it’s not true. I close my eyes and try to recall what I know about this particular one. “Brother on brother murder. Tried to cover it up. Got caught because he was shitty at lying. Mark of Cain.”

  “That’s the gist of it.” She sounds like she might be smiling, but just as quickly the warmth disappears from her voice. “The catch, according to legends, is that Abel didn’t stay dead. Cain’s idea of disposing of the body was to toss him into the ocean. The ocean decided to keep him. I don’t know exactly who or what is responsible, because the legend just says it was a woman of untellable beauty.”

  I huff out a laugh. “It’s always a beautiful woman.”

  “Of course. Regardless, she couldn’t just bring him back to life—even the so-called gods have limits—so she transformed him into something new. Something dark and powerful that would never be whim to something as mundane as death.”

  “That’s a powerful transformation right there.”

  “Indeed. But, like I said—it’s possible that it’s just legend and has no basis in reality.”

  It was just as likely that it was the truth. I stare hard at the whitecaps on the dark waves coming in to shore. I don’t know how I can use this, but it’s a start. My enemy has a name. Abel. I shiver. “Thanks, Amae. I really appreciate it.”

  “Will you tell me what happened? There’s no way you simply stumbled onto the kraken. Something brought him out of wherever he’s been holed up the last millennia.”

  I couldn’t tell my sister that that something was, in all likelihood, my power-infused necklace. I don’t know what the kraken could possibly want with something like that, but there was no denying his interest. It didn’t bode well for me, but I’d be damned before I dragged Amae into it, too. “I’ll call you when it’s all over.”

  “Be careful, Lorelei. This isn’t… I don’t know if it’s even possible to kill him. It might be better if we called in the rest of our sisters and—”

  “Thank you for the information, Amae.” I cut her off. If I let her keep going, she’ll convince me to do exactly what she’s proposing—bring in our sisters and battle the kraken. The kraken that might be thousands of years old, eats magic, and probably can’t die. All that translates to a death sentence to anyone who stands against him.

  He hasn’t killed me yet, so he’s got some kind of use in mind for me. That’s the only advantage I have at this point, and it’s one that doesn’t extend to Amae or the rest of them. I won’t let them die for me.

  “Love you.” I hung up before she could say anything else. If I live through this, I’ll find a way to make it up to her. Somehow.

  The whistling of the tea kettle brings me back to myself. Everything and nothing has changed. I am still being stalked by what equates to a primordial being and knowing his name and potential origin doesn’t magically give me the key to his undoing. I still don’t even know what he wants.

  I pour my second cup of tea and grab my laptop. Amae’s given me a starting point at least, so my only choice is to run with it. I start by searching the term kraken, but it only brings me links and links of novice artwork and legends that have no basis in reality. The most interesting thing I find is a cryptozoology link that leads me back to pages and pages of documented sightings of what might be a giant squid but might very well be the kraken himself.

  I sit back and glare at my screen. Smoke and mirrors and misinformation. This is getting me nowhere. It doesn’t matter what this thing is. What matters is what he wants. For all appearances, it looks like it’s me, but that doesn’t make sense any way I look at it. I’m nothing special. I’m not particularly powerful, even when I was at full strength and could portal. The ability to portal isn’t unique to me—anyone with royal blood can do it. Really, anyone can do it with the right combination of sacrifice and dark magic. No, he doesn’t need me for that.

  Maybe this goes back further.

  I shove to my feet and stalk around my living room. If he has my necklace—my powers—then it’s possible that was the endgame all along. I always assume
d that those assholes targeted me because I was one of the merfolk and as long as there have been merfolk, there have been Deep Dwellers who craved the ability to do what we do. It makes all the sense in the world that they’d have worked out some dark deal to portal at will.

  What if it wasn’t that at all?

  I curse, make another lap around my living room, and curse again. I don’t know. That’s the problem. I don’t know anything. I don’t know what this asshole wants. I don’t know what the Deep Dwellers want. All I can be sure of is that it involves me, and it means nothing good for my people. That’s not much to go on.

  It doesn’t matter.

  I signed up for this when I came back here to help pave a way for my people to make the same journey on a species-wide scale. The clock is ticking and while there might be years left before the situation becomes critical, we’re talking decades instead of centuries. If there truly is some evil plot that I’m at the center of, I need to stop it. I can’t hide here in this little house by the sea and wait for everything to blow over.

  Shame has made me stupid too many times in the past two years. I can’t let it do it this time, too.

  I’ve been sitting on my hands for so long, the motion feels good. It feels so good, I don’t stop. I throw open my door and charge out onto the path leading to the beach. “You want me, asshole. You’re going to get me.” The best way to get answers is to go straight to the source. He’s decided not to kill me before for whatever reason, and all evidence points to him not killing me this time, either. I’m going to ask that bastard my questions and he’s going to give me some goddamn answers.

  I am nearly sprinting by the time I hit the beach. I hear a voice in my head that sounds a whole lot like Amae, This is not a plan, Lorelei. I don’t care. I’m a pebble swept along by a river of energy. I’ve been still too long. Stuck. Wedged in tightly against things beyond my control. I still don’t have control, but I have the ability to take action and I’m drunk on it.

  I kick off my sandals and step into the water. Energy licks at my skin, tempting me to strip and dive in to soak up as much of it as I possibly can. I might be acting foolish, but I’m nowhere near that level. This is dangerous enough without flinging myself fully into the kraken’s power.

  I’m here, you bastard.

  It takes the space of a breath—one inhale, one exhale—and then his presences surrounds me. Amusement drifts down the link between us. So eager to join me in the deep.

  Hardly. I eye the ocean, but the blue-gray sea can hide a multitude of sins. He could be just out beyond the drop-off point, a quick snap of the tentacle away. The one thing Amae wasn’t specific on was his size. He’s got to be massive. Every legend surrounding the kraken labels him so and there are too many accounts that stretch back through the years to fully discount it. You have something you want, or you wouldn’t be screwing with me. I’m here. I’m listening. Spit it out.

  Surprise flickers. Perhaps I just like toying with my prey.

  Thought about that. Discounted it. You’ve put too much effort into doing a whole lot of nothing. Either you’re really bad at your job or you’re playing a deeper game.

  His chuckle vibrates through my entire body and creates little ripples in the water around me. Very well.

  I barely have a second to process his agreement when a thick black tentacle shoots out of the water, wraps around my waist, and yanks me under.

  Chapter Five

  I am heartily tired of drowning. I struggle and fight and try to wiggle out of the tentacle’s grip, but it’s no use. He’s got me too tightly. There’s no escape now. Maybe there never has been.

  Down and down we go, impossibly deep for my human body. The band around my chest tightens, the pressure threatening to send my head spinning round like a top. I hold my breath as long as I can. Longer. It’s no use. With the last of my strength, I scream in fury and pain and fear, bubbles cascading from my mouth, physical evidence of the last of my resistance. I have nothing left.

  Pop.

  The water rushes back but the darkness doesn’t abate. I hit my knees and inhale before I can stop to think that this might be just another trap. Sweet, salty air fills me, and it feels so good, I do it again.

  I manage to lift my head and look around. I blink, realize I can see, and blink again. “That’s new.” I’m in a bubble the size of a small house. A bubble that’s…glowing faintly. The surface of it sparks against my palms where I kneel and I watch through the vaguely opaque surface as something huge moves beneath me. For some reason, the kraken is always pictured as black, but it’s not the case at all. He’s a deep gray with faint brindle patterning across his massive body. The better to blend in with the sun-dappled water, which indicates he’s a creature that travels through the shallows as often as the deep.

  I look up, but the surface is barely a glint in the distance. Too far to swim, even if I could get out of the damn bubble—something that isn’t looking promising to begin with. I push slowly to my feet and wobble a little on the unsteady surface. It shows every evidence of being an actual bubble, albeit one thick enough to hold my weight. I turn a slow circle, but nothing changed. “You’ve got to me kidding me. Hey!” I stomp on the bubble, which makes me bounce like I jumped onto a trampoline. I land on my ass and curse up a storm. “Hey! Asshole! What the hell?”

  “You wanted to talk.”

  I shove my hair from my face and climb slowly to my feet. It doesn’t matter that he can crush me like a bug without the least bit of effort or that, judging from the glimpses I got of his other form, he could just swallow this entire bubble whole. I will not meet him while I’m on the ground and he’s standing over me.

  He’s on the other side of this room he’s constructed somehow, wearing the same three-piece suit he had on earlier. Abel. The name fits him somehow. It should be too simple, too earthy to encompass this creature, and yet… If I had any doubts about my sister’s information—and I didn’t—they would have disappeared the second I laid eyes on him again.

  It’s all truth.

  Cain and Abel.

  The murder.

  The transformation.

  All of it.

  I don’t know how I’m supposed to use that information yet, so I focus on his clothing. I shift to one side and then the other, but there’s no telltale shimmer to indicate that it’s glamor or some type of illusion. When I used to be able to change forms, I could manipulate matter to a large enough degree to form clothes if I had to, or at least cover the necessary bits with scales. That’s not what he’s done. Despite myself, I inch closer and poke his shoulder, jumping back as soon as I make contact. “You’re not an illusion.”

  “Do you usually have conversations with illusions?” One well-groomed black eyebrow inches up. “Interesting.”

  “There are rules. Laws of physics or magic or whatever you want to call it.” I circle him again, well aware that he’s indulging me, but now that I have him this close, I have more questions than answers. “You shouldn’t be able to shift all of that into this little bit of flesh.” I motion to where he’d just been below me to where he stood now. “It’s not possible.”

  He shrugs a single shoulder. “A lot of things become possible when you’re as old as I am.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” I snort, as if I’m not scared out of my ever-loving mind. “Less than seven thousand years. There are celestial beings walking around who’ve been around double that.”

  His other brow rises, a flash of surprise across his face. “What do you know about that?”

  “Enough.” Negotiations always went better when one didn’t lay all their cards on the table at the beginning. I cross my arms and raise my chin. “Did you drag me down here for a reason or are you just playing with your food?”

  “You don’t seem particularly bothered by the fact I might eat you.”

  And he’s not rushing to reassure me that I’m perfectly safe in his clutches. I wouldn’t believe him if he tried to say as much, but it stil
l would have been nice for him to at least pretend he thought I might be a threat. Then again, I’m not a threat. Not to something like him.

  I give him a shrug of my own. “I don’t make a habit out of stressing over things beyond my control.”

  “Liar.” His full lips quirk, and I curse myself for noticing that they’re rather nice lips. The better to eat you with, my dear.

  I shudder. “Get out of my head.” Telepathic, ancient, unknowable shapeshifting powers, and he was a magic eater in the mix. It just wasn’t right. When he doesn’t immediately respond, I sigh. “As fun as this back and forth has been, let’s just get down to you threatening me and me telling you to fuck off.”

  “What makes you think I’m planning on threatening you?”

  He really is too much. “You have my necklace and my powers. You don’t need me, too.”

  “Ah. That.” He slips his hand out of his pocket and my heart seizes in my chest at the sight of my necklace dangling from his fingertips. It sways gently back and forth, a smoky blue and white crystal capped with a piece of silver that holds it to the chain. The kyanite glows faintly in a way it never did around my neck, a testament to the power it now holds. It was only meant to help me channel and boost my abilities and now it is my abilities. My finding power pulses in my stomach, demanding I rush forward and snatch it out of his dirty kraken hands.

  I must make some move because he lifts it up until it’s level with his face. Helpless, I follow the necklace. I’m caught in his trap, for better or worse. I can’t even be bothered to try to escape because he has the one thing I want most in the world and it’s right there. “What do you want?” My voice comes out thin and reedy. Weak. Unforgivably weak.

  “I’m willing to entertain the idea of returning this to you—in exchange for your assistance.”

  “My assistance.” What benefit could I possibly offer him? Even the power boost from ritual sacrifice would barely be a blip on his radar. The merfolk and other supernatural creatures might have magic, but Abel is magic. Even from a few feet away, I can feel it biting at my skin.