by D. S. Murphy
“He couldn’t come tonight but he took me shopping to buy this, said he wanted me to look my best. This dress cost over four hundred pounds. I told him he shouldn’t spend that much money on a dress I’ll only wear once, but he said I was worth it.”
It sounded like she’d made up a new boyfriend to explain her sudden wealth. At least she was lying to protect Sebastian. And it was Christmas. I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, and approached them.
“You look really pretty,” I said. “Love that dress.”
Roisin pulled away from me like she’d been stung, and narrowed her eyes. I didn’t wait for her to respond, I just moved into my place on stage and began warming up. Thirty minutes later I grabbed some water and took a peak through the curtain. I found Ethan first, sitting next to Jackie, who was next to Patricia and Kyle. Jackie was in jeans and a semi-casual blazer, but with her red hair she still looked gorgeous; the epitome of understated elegance. She laughed at something and I saw Ethan smile. He had on a jacket and long black tie, which he wore with a rugged handsomeness that stood out. I wondered if he’d ever gone to a concert like this before, or whether he’d come just for me.
My stomach felt tight watching them together, but I wasn’t sure why. If Jackie liked him, why shouldn’t they be together? Other than the fact I’d just watched his father murder somebody.
Finally they dimmed the lights and I went back to my place quickly. The curtains opened and Mrs. Tierney introduced us. We did a few songs as a group. Like always, I held back so my voice would blend in, rather than overpower the others.
The lights were warm, the air dry. I took a sip of my water and hummed to myself just before my solo. Then I came out to the front and the spotlight was on me. I glanced down, half expecting to see the two empty chairs I’d saved for my parents. Finding out that the last few months of my life had been a crazy dream, and my parents were alive, and I was still just a normal girl. Mrs. Tierney waved to catch my eye and I realized I’d missed my first cue. The pianist repeated the bar and I started singing.
After the first refrain, I relaxed. I let my breath fill my diaphragm and empower my voice, which erupted out of me. It was like a bird I’d kept in a cage too long, and now that I’d opened the door it was desperate to get free. I closed my eyes and let my voice carry out over the audience like a thick white fog. A strange power radiated through me. I could feel my voice connecting with the audience, soothing them. I was crushing it. I was dazzling them. They loved me.
“O come all ye faithful joyful and triumphant—”
It was like the game I used to play, letting my voice capture their attention, but so much deeper. We were linked together through the chord of music that stretched from my lungs to their hearts. I could feel their adoration, almost like I was sucking it in.
I lifted my hands up, letting the music guide my body, feeling the power of my voice grow and spread down my arms and through my fingertips.
See how the shepherds summoned to his cradle,
leaving their flocks, draw nigh with lowly fear
we too will thither hend our joyful footsteps
I could see everyone in the audience, even with my eyes closed. I could feel them. We were of one mind, like when I’d controlled the school of fish and made it jump. With one more verse to go, I opened my eyes again. And then I stopped singing, mid-syllable, my eyes rounding in horror.
The audience were no longer in their seats. They were standing, their arms raised above their heads like mine had been, their eyes collectively blank and unaware. Many of them were walking towards the front of the auditorium. A handful already stood below me, reaching for the hem of my dress. My frantic eyes sought out Aedan, then Jackie and Ethan. I choked back a sob when I saw their empty, zombified faces. All were under my spell, a spell I’d cast on accident, and one I had no idea how to reverse.
There was movement in my peripheral vision. Sebastian.
Thank god he was unaffected. He practically ran up the side stairs and strode out on stage, his footsteps echoing in the deathly quiet room.
“What do I do,” I whispered to him loudly, my voice and hands shaking.
“Tell them to go back to their seats and sit down. The effect will wear off in a minute or two. Once they’re seated they won’t remember any of this.”
“Ladies and gentleman,” I said into the microphone, “please go back to your seats and sit down again.” At first I was afraid it wasn’t going to work. I couldn’t feel that palpable cord of connection like I had before. I concentrated again, trying to seek them out. I hummed for a few seconds, then sang go sit down in a b-flat. That did the trick. They began to shuffle back to their seats in single file.
I could already see some faces waking up in confusion and looking around. Luckily almost everyone was sitting again. I watched Mr. Sadleir regain consciousness while he was still a few seats away from his chair. He looked up at me with a stunned expression. Time to run.
“Thank you,” I said, curtseying awkwardly before leaving the stage. After a few seconds Ms. Tierney picked up her cue, and came on to announce the next singer. There were murmurs, but nobody seemed to be pointing fingers. Nobody, except Ethan.
He practically dragged me outside, with Sebastian close behind us.
“What the hell just happened,” Ethan demanded once we were alone. His breath came out in a white fog, and his cheeks were rosy from the cold. Patches of ice clung to the edges of the parking lot.
“What do you mean?” Sebastian said.
“Don’t lie to me fishface. One second I was in my chair. The next—it was like a gap in my awareness. Everything was a little different; people sitting in different positions, papers on the ground, several people standing up. I can only remember half of your song. Something happened right? What did you do to us?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said. “Not on purpose. I was just singing.”
“There are stories about the merrow,” Ethan said. “Old stories, about the temptation of their voices. Sailors going insane and turning on each other, crashing the ship against the rocks. Whole towns throwing themselves off cliffs. Warriors filled their ears with wax so they wouldn’t be influenced by the siren song. Tell me the stories aren’t true.”
I didn’t answer, I had no idea. Ethan and I both looked at Sebastian.
“Those are legends,” he said, tugging at his bowtie. “but based on history. Yes, we are dangerous. Yes, these are things we can do. Have done. Especially the young, who haven’t learned to control themselves. Some of the oldest families, those with the purest bloodlines, do retain some of those abilities. But even they could probably only seduce one or two humans at the same time. During the wars, a handful of merrow might have been powerful enough to control a whole town. But there’s no way Clara could do it, she’s not even full merrow. She can’t even change yet.”
“Explain what just happened then,” Ethan said, his eyes narrow.
“Honestly… I can’t,” Sebastian said. He was looking at me strangely. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Maybe it’s just because you’re such a skilled singer, because you’ve trained your voice. Or maybe because you’ve spent most of your life out of the water. Maybe you tapped into some ancient ability on accident somehow. Or maybe it was just a freak combination of the lights or the music that somehow hypnotized everyone, and put them in a trance where they were suggestible to influence.”
“That sounds crazy,” I said. “How could I accidentally hypnotize a whole room of people?”
“You sure you didn’t do it on purpose?” Ethan asked.
I thought about the game I was playing with my voice. I was trying to influence them. I wanted them to listen to me. Pay attention to me. I was trying to block everything out and get them to focus on my voice. It’s a game I’d played for years, though I don’t remember when I’d started. I vaguely remember my mother telling me something when I was younger, something to overcome stage fright. They are here for you. They want to lis
ten to you sing. Just remind them why they came.
“Of course not,” I snapped back at Ethan. He looked doubtful, and even Sebastian didn’t look like he fully believed me.
“It seems like we were all surprised by this,” Sebastian said finally. “But now that we know it’s possible, we can take precautions to prevent something like this from happening again.”
“Precautions?” I asked.
“You can’t sing like that again,” Ethan said, crossing his arms.
Sebastian nodded in agreement.
“Not in public. Not ever.”
38
For the first time, Ethan and Sebastian were in total agreement: I was dangerous, and I could no longer do the one thing that made me feel talented and unique. Giving up singing was like giving up breathing. It was the only thing I was good at. After the concert, both of them kept trying to rationalize it to me, to break it down like I was stupid. Explaining why I couldn’t sing anymore. But I got it. Taking over someone’s will, brainwashing them, getting them to do anything you told them to… it was a terrible power. Ethan said he felt violated, like I’d mind-raped him. But I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never do it on purpose. It was only dangerous because I couldn’t control it yet. Maybe if I figured out how to control it—but no, I could see it in their eyes. They’d never trust me with a power this strong. I agreed to stop singing, because I knew they were right, but I didn’t feel like being around either of them.
Everyone else was going out for coffee after the concert, but I went home with Aedan and wrapped last minute stocking-stuffers. Sebastian had no place to be on Christmas so I told him to come over in the morning. I hung another stocking for him before going to sleep.
Christmas day was quiet. Sebastian arrived with a big bag of presents and stacked them under the tree like a small mountain, then kept me occupied with card games. I knew he was trying to cheer me up, but it was a poor consolation. I felt like Ariel, when she got her legs but had to give up her voice in the bargain—except I wasn’t getting anything for my sacrifice. I’d seen myself as a singer for half of my life. Until yesterday, I still thought maybe I’d study music at a good school and try to make a career out of it. Now that dream, distant though it was, had been erased.
Sebastian said most merrow couldn’t even do things like that anymore, so why me, a half-blood? I wondered again who my grandmother was and where she came from. How did she end up on that beach, alone? At first I was worried Aedan forced her into a marriage somehow. Now I wondered if the opposite were true—maybe she’d seduced him, a simple fisherman, with her beauty and hypnotic voice.
Helena came over in a festive red sweater and helped Aedan cook a pot roast and potatoes for dinner. It was cute seeing them together, though it did make the house feel much smaller. I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to add to the conversation, but Helena’s bubbly personality filled the silence.
I could see now why the Tuatha Dé were so afraid of the merrow. The violence I’d witnessed at the bonfire was bad enough, but this kind of power seemed far worse. I’d always believed evil was found in our choices, not our nature; but it was hard to see this new ability as anything other than malevolent.
On the other hand, could I really afford to ignore any new ability? The Tuatha Dé sacrificed Trevor for the past sins of his race. Sure he deserved it, but they didn’t know that. For them, one merrow was as good as any other, and they’d come after Sebastian next. Ethan kept telling me to pick a side. My side was with Sebastian, against the Tuatha Dé; but also with the humans against the merrow invasion. Which left me nowhere. I was still too weak to fight for real. Even though I’d been training, I’d never be as fast as Sebastian or as strong as Ethan. The only power I had, according to Sebastian, were my looks, but I would never use my beauty on purpose for seduction or flattery. I hated those girls who used their looks to get what they wanted.
But now I had my voice as well. Ethan and Sebastian agreed that it was powerful and dangerous. They seemed afraid of it. If so, why shouldn’t I use it, if I had to, against anyone who might try to harm me or my friends? Was it evil to stand up for yourself, to protect the ones you loved?
These thoughts circled my brain for days. We were on winter holiday for school and I had way too much free time. The gray, quiet weather made me stir crazy. I caught up on homework assignments and pounded on my typewriter until my fingertips formed calluses. I started dipping them in salt water so I could keep typing away my frustrations.
Sebastian came over every day, but the thrill of practice had worn off and now it just seemed like work. Why was I training so hard to build up my speed, agility and swordplay when I couldn’t use the one weapon that came naturally to me? Every time I tried to bring it up Sebastian gave me a warning look that said the discussion was off limits.
“I know it’s bad,” I said, “or at least, it’s been used for terrible things in the past. But shouldn’t I master all of my abilities, not just some? Couldn’t it come in handy? In Portrush, just before I got pushed, I was commanding a school of fish.”
“People aren’t fish.”
“But what if the Tuatha Dé came after you, and I could make them lay down their weapons?”
“The effect would wear off and they’d pick them back up again, hating us even more. You’d have to charm them and then slaughter them while they were under your influence. But it would only increase the fear and hatred. They’d come after you again, in bigger numbers, with renewed strength. Don’t you see, right now you’re just one merrow—not even a full merrow. You can blend in or disappear. You can hide out, join the humans. But this gift, it’ll make you infamous. A sorceress. Nobody will ever trust you. Your friends and family will lose faith in you. They won’t know whether your relationship was real or if they’ve been charmed. It’s not about whether your gift can be used for good; it’s about not drawing more attention to yourself, and making you a target.”
Everything Sebastian said was reasonable, and I could see he was just trying to protect me, but I still wasn’t convinced. I’d gotten in the habit of taking strolls by myself, before or after our marathon training sessions. On the last day of the month I walked all the way to Coleraine, the biggest city in the area, which was a few miles away.
Sebastian had invited everyone over to his house for a New Year’s party. I planned to sleep in and go shopping with him in the afternoon to get some food and party decorations, but I woke up at dawn and couldn’t get back to sleep. I thought I’d just walk up to Dunluce Castle, but I kept going, following the long, straight road through green fields filled with cows and sheep. I knew I should turn back, but I didn’t. I needed something new to explore. I’d been all over Portballintrae and Portrush, and I felt stifled; limited by their familiarity.
In Coleraine I window-shopped all morning, then got some coffee and a piece of carrot cake with thick white frosting. I was about to start walking back when I saw the church. It was old, a few centuries maybe, with dark gray stones and a tall steeple. We went to church sometimes when I was young, though I didn’t think my parents were particularly religious. There was a sign outside with a quote that read, Life is not just a succession of experiences. It is a search for the truth, the good and the beautiful. It is to this end that we make our choices; it is for this that we exercise our freedom; it is in this that we find happiness and joy.
I could use some happiness. I pushed open the heavy wooden door and passed what looked like a birdbath, then sat in one of the pews and began flipping through a Bible. I’m not sure what I was looking for. Permission? Forgiveness?
I didn’t notice I wasn’t alone until the man next to me cleared his throat.
“Something I can help you with, Clara?”
My heart raced when I heard my name, but I looked up and recognized Father Murphy in his black cassock. It was weird to see him outside of class, but I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised to find him in a church.
“You work here?” I asked.
&nb
sp; “I’m not sure it’s fair to call it work,” he smiled. “I like to think of it more like a calling. Were you looking for anything in particular?” he asked, nodding towards the Bible.
“Isn’t there a passage about God making all the creatures under the sea and saying that it was good?” I asked. “I mean, didn’t he make everything good, and evil came into the world later, through disobedience?”
“Yes, in Genesis. But right after that part he tells mankind to ‘fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.’ Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering, how far is too far? What if we wiped out a whole species? Or what if a human did something on accident that hurt someone else. Or what if, to stop someone from hurting others, you had to do something to them. Something, not good. Would that be evil? If your intentions were pure?”
“In Isaiah 1:18, the Lord says ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.’ All humans can be forgiven.”
“All humans,” I repeated, wondering about the distinction. Father Murphy reached for the Bible and placed it in the back of the pew in front of us. As he did so, I caught a glimpse of the gnarled flesh around his wrist. It looked like something I’d seen before on burn victims.