Last of the Sirens [Sirens and Sailors] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Bella Settarra

  Hermandine dumped the broken instrument on the bed and rallied the women. “Come on, ladies, we’d better get down there and find these two miscreants!” she shouted. “Melantho—my cape!”

  The maid squelched into the room with the cape—though actually it was a bright yellow oilskin and a matching sou’wester. While the old ladies had been spying on the young runaways, Melantho had summoned the rest of the islanders, who were now huddled outside the large house. Most were clad only in bikinis, as that was all they owned. They carried all manner of implements which had been salvaged from the shipwrecks, mostly those used for cooking, and some had sticks. They all looked lethal enough! Everyone was thoroughly excited and chatting away loudly.

  “To the boat!” ordered Hermandine, leading the way down a narrow pathway, which led directly to the little jetty.

  The massive throng arrived at the boat just as Eban and Amaranda came around the rock.

  “Run for it!” cried Eban as he lunged toward the boat.

  There was a loud thud as Kalliope struck out with a sweeping brush and hit him square across his chest. Winded, he dropped down and belly flopped into the sea.

  Amaranda screamed and ran toward him but Hermandine blocked her way. Chaos reigned as everyone shouted at once, a large crowd gathering around the frightened young girl, waving implements and sticks at her.

  Pallas and Minerva ran to the water’s edge and both held one end of a soggy mop, the other end in the water.

  “Grab hold!” Pallas urged Eban, yelling against the rain that continued to pound the island.

  Eban, still trying to catch his breath, saw the wooden pole poking toward him and held out his hands. With a leap he pounced on it, almost dragging the poor old ladies in with him! Ligia and some of her friends saw the attempted rescue and ran over to help. They leaned over and grabbed at his shirt, hauling him toward the jetty and onto the rocks. He slunk onto the shore like a massive blue whale, gasping for air, while girls were shouting and screaming all around him.

  From where she stood, Amaranda could just make out part of his body strewn across the rock. Relief that he was alive mixed with despair that they had been caught.

  “Eban!” she cried. There was nothing else to say.

  Her hands were tied behind her back with thick rope, and she was shoved up the slope to a small cave.

  “You will stay in here until sunrise!” Hermandine ordered as she was thrown down into the dark hole.

  Some of the sturdier girls rolled a large rock into the mouth of the cave, trapping her inside. Amaranda shivered as the cold air enveloped her, and the musty smell assaulted her nose. She could just hear muffled talking, and guessed that Hermandine was ordering some poor soul to stay out there all night to ensure she didn’t escape. As if!

  Tears poured down her face as she shuffled her bottom along the dusty ground until she could feel the wall of the cave at her back. She leaned against it with her head tilted up. What now?

  * * * *

  There was great excitement as the young women looked at the gorgeous sailor, stranded on the jetty, gasping for air.

  “Out of the way!” ordered Minerva, who promptly laid him on his side with his knees bent up, allowing water to drain from his mouth. He coughed and spluttered. It seemed to be doing the trick!

  “What’s he doing here?” cried one of the girls.

  “Is this what a man really looks like?” marveled one of the teenagers, never having seen one this close up in her life.

  “Isn’t he handsome!” gasped another, leaning over to get a closer look.

  “Leave him be!” urged Pallas, shooing the girls away from him.

  She bent down to look at his face, “Better now?” she asked, concern etched on her wrinkled face.

  Eban nodded, coughing, and sat up. He looked around and saw the crowd of women surrounding him.

  “Where’s Amaranda?” he asked, horrified.

  “They’ve taken her away,” Solon replied, walking toward him.

  The girls stood back to let the elder through.

  “But where? Who’s taken her?” he demanded, struggling to his feet.

  Before he knew it, his hands had been pulled behind his back and his wrists were tightly bound with rope.

  “What the…?”

  “Silence, prisoner!” snarled an old lady with white hair poking from under her canary yellow sou’wester. “You’ll have your chance to speak when I say!”

  Eban looked up at her, bewildered. He almost laughed at the sight of the little old lady, shrouded in a bright-yellow oilskin, ordering him about. The size of the crowd behind her made him think twice. They obviously revered the elderly woman, as they stepped aside and stopped talking as soon as she appeared.

  The old crone walked over to him, studying him closely with cold, beady eyes. Her scrawny face and wrinkled neck looked mean and unyielding.

  “Take him to the cave!” she ordered at length, waving her stick in the air.

  Some of the women who stepped forward were quite sturdy, making his muscular frame appear quite wiry in comparison. Although he realized he could take most of them on, their sheer number was daunting, and he was concerned about Amaranda. He decided, on balance, that his best option for the moment was to do as they said.

  Eban was pushed into a damp cave at the top of the slope, not far from the one Amaranda was in, though he didn’t know it. Again, an army of hefty young women rolled a rock into the cave mouth, blocking out what little light was left. He propped himself against the wall of the cave and sighed. Now what?

  * * * *

  Relief swept over Amaranda when the rock was finally rolled away from the entrance to the cave. She winced and squinted her eyes at the early morning sun. She hadn’t realized it was daytime, having been awake most of the night weeping and worrying about what was to happen.

  “Out!” ordered Solon curtly, waving her stick toward her. For an old lady she had a fierce temper!

  The young girl struggled to stand with her hands still tied, but managed by holding onto the rocks jutting through the wall of the cave behind her as she pushed herself up.

  “Hurry girl!” Solon snarled impatiently.

  Amaranda had never had much to do with the elders of their community, apart from Pallas, who had been a good friend to her all her life. The other ladies seemed very standoffish, especially Hermandine, whose family had ruled the island for centuries. She understood from Pallas that the reason they were given their position was because their ancestors were well-bred, though Amaranda struggled to understand what that meant.

  She followed the old lady and her entourage up to the Great Hall, which was actually part of a ruined building, with just a few walls remaining. It was a large, semi-enclosed space which was used for all sorts of meetings and gatherings on the island. Hermandine stood at one end of the hall, with the elders sitting on either side of her, their faces severe and eyes staring toward her. The old women wore bikinis and costumes, but, unlike the younger ones, swathed strips of material over them, covering their modesty—and their wrinkles! Solon took her seat next to Pallas, shaking as she did so.

  A large table stood in front of the elders, and Amaranda had been positioned behind it, facing the old ladies, with her back to the massive audience. She felt so vulnerable and alone. It seemed as though the whole island had come to determine her fate. She looked around but there was no sign of Eban. Peering over at Pallas, she saw sympathy and concern in her face. Amaranda felt her stomach clench with fear, and she breathed heavily to avoid being sick again. Hermandine held up her withered hand and the crowd immediately silenced.

  “We are here to discover what this young lady was doing last night with a man!” the old lady bellowed, pointing an accusatory, bony finger at Amaranda.

  The crowd roared. Amaranda felt herself shaking. She wished Eban was there. Where is he?

  “Amaranda,” Hermandine continued, as the crowd quieted down, “you were last seen on this island three days ago.
Since then, you were due to work on Destiny Rock with the other Sirens, but for two days no one has seen anything of you. Would you now tell us where you were and what you were doing?”

  “I–I wasn’t well, I needed some time to myself,” she stammered weakly. She hadn’t thought of being captured, so she and Eban hadn’t even got their story straight!

  “That’s true,” Pallas interjected, standing briefly. “I suggested she leave class early as she had a very sore throat.”

  Hermandine nodded at her and the old lady resumed her seat.

  “So where were you for the last two days?” she glared at Amaranda.

  “I stayed on Destiny Rock,” Amaranda replied.

  “With him?” Hermandine hollered.

  There was no point in denying it.

  “Yes,” Amaranda said simply.

  The crowd was in uproar, the elders shook their heads and tutted. This was unheard of! Women shouted and whooped from behind the young girl as she shivered.

  Eventually Hermandine held up her hand to silence the crowd again.

  “Amaranda, you turned twenty-one two days ago, and for those two days you should have been on duty on Destiny Rock. This community can only thrive if we all do our part, do you agree?”

  “Well, yes,” Amaranda replied, shakily.

  “Good.”

  Hermandine had a very self-satisfied grin on her face as she continued. “In that case you will kindly take your position as a full-fledged Siren on Destiny Rock from today. I will expect you to take a full part in the activities with the sailors and not the salvage party. We will be monitoring your progress. Do you understand?”

  Amaranda felt her face drain and she stood in open-mouthed horror. No!

  The women behind her whooped and cheered, and the elderly ladies in front of her sat nodding triumphantly, except Pallas, who sat with her head in her hands.

  “I can’t!” Amaranda whispered, shaking her head. “Anything but that!”

  Chapter 8

  Pallas caught Amaranda as she slumped to the ground, sobbing. She took her home and made her a drink. The young girl’s hut was very small but clean and well kept.

  “We need to talk,” the old lady said.

  Amaranda didn’t want to talk. She wanted to die.

  “I can’t do it,” she whispered, in stunned horror. “I just can’t! I want Eban!”

  “Were you trying to escape?” Pallas asked firmly, studying her swollen face.

  Amaranda nodded. “We can’t stay here. We saw what they do!”

  Pallas nodded and sighed.

  “Where’s Eban?” Amaranda suddenly panicked. “What have they done to him?”

  “He’s all right,” Pallas soothed, “he’s being kept prisoner in a cave until we decide what is to be done. Your punishment isn’t over yet, either, I’m afraid, dear. The elders will consider it today.”

  What could be worse than this?

  “I don’t care about me. I just want Eban.” Amaranda wailed in despair.

  Pallas cleared her throat as she sat opposite the young girl. The old wooden chair creaked as she leant forward.

  “Do you have feelings for each other?” the old lady asked quietly.

  Amaranda looked up at the astute women in surprise.

  “Yes, yes we do. We want to be together always. We have to get away from here. In the outside world men are allowed to live, we want to go there!” she cried. “Please, Pallas, tell me what to do.”

  Pallas shook her head gravely. “I wish I knew, my dear,” she said gently, obviously aware that she was dousing the spark of hope she had seen glimmer in Amaranda’s eyes.

  Amaranda sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t live like this,” she said.

  Pallas started.

  “You can’t think like that!” she admonished in horror. “You must never give up hope. There is always a way around a bad situation, even if you can’t see it at first. Promise me you will never, ever think like that again!”

  Amaranda was taken aback by the ferocity of the old lady who she had never seen react so strongly to anything before. This was obviously a sore point.

  “It’s OK,” she said, sniffing. “I’ll fight to be with Eban. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  “You love him, don’t you?” Pallas asked quietly, surveying the young girl’s face.

  Amaranda nodded. “Yes, I do love him, I love him more than anything!” She sniffed again before continuing, “That’s why I can’t be a Siren. I can’t make—have sex—with men. I only want Eban. I couldn’t bear to be with anyone else.”

  “You’ve made love with this man?” Pallas was evidently staggered and sat bolt upright.

  “Yes. It was beautiful. More wonderful than I ever imagined! It’s nothing like what they do out on the Rock, Pallas. It’s more, so much more!”

  Pallas nodded her head wisely.

  “But, Pallas, I don’t understand. When they do what they do out there, they grow wings and turn into massive birds. They murder those men. How can they do it? I could never do that. I could never hurt Eban!”

  “That’s because you love him,” Pallas replied simply.

  It still didn’t make sense to Amaranda.

  “The Sirens use their wiles to distract those men. They don’t have any feelings for them. That’s the way we—they—are made. They delay their orgasm until the right time, and then they channel their pent-up energy until it becomes one big manic aggression within them. This is what causes their bodies to change. This is what gives them the ability to savagely attack and slay those men. Their arousal mounts. The more brutal their attack, the better their orgasm. You are not like them, Amaranda,” the old lady explained.

  “I’m different?” She couldn’t believe her ears. “Is that why I didn’t grow wings? I was afraid when Eban and I first made love. I ran away afterward in case I grew wings and killed him. I didn’t want to, Pallas, I didn’t want to hurt him.”

  “I know.” Pallas nodded as she spoke. “Amaranda, there is something I should have told you a long time ago.”

  * * * *

  Having had a sleepless night, Eban was disturbed by the rolling away of the rock at the mouth of the cave. Sunlight poured in, obscuring the vision of the old woman who stood in front of him. All he could see was a shadow of the crone.

  “I’ve brought you food and water,” she croaked.

  “Thank you, er?”

  “My name is Minerva. I am one of the elders here.” She spoke firmly but was not unkind.

  She nodded her head and two young girls stepped forward from behind her. Kalliope gracefully bent down to place a wooden tray with fruit and griddle scones on the ground in front of him. Ligia also stepped forward with a jug of lemon drink and a wooden cup.

  Another nod from the old lady, and the two young Sirens elegantly walked behind Eban and untied his wrists. He felt their silken fingers seductively trail over his hands as they did so, and an unwelcome heat welled in his belly. As soon as he was untied, more women stood forward in the mouth of the cave, guarding the entrance. Some of the women looked as sturdy and tough as any men he had seen working on the ship.

  A harsh stare from Minerva made the young Sirens remove themselves from behind him and join the others in the entranceway. Eban couldn’t help notice their exquisite bodies writhing somewhat seductively behind the old crone. The cunning girls smiled mischievously to each other, as well as the handsome sailor, and licked their ravishing lips invitingly at him.

  “Thank you, Minerva,” he said, panting and struggling to focus his attention on her. “Can you tell me what has happened to Amaranda?”

  The old lady walked closer to him, a little nervously.

  “She has been allowed to go free—for now,” she said in a hushed tone. “As long as she carries out her duties she will not be harmed.”

  “What duties might they be?” Eban asked cagily, his throat dry.

  “She is twenty-one and therefore a Siren,” Minerva replied matter-of-factl
y, as she slowly edged back again.

  Eban’s chest heaved and his shoulders rose, as a fierce expression shadowed his face.

  “No!”

  His shout could be clearly heard, even through the large boulder that had been rapidly rolled in front of the cave as the old lady scurried out.

  * * * *

  Amaranda wiped away her tears and listened, wide-eyed as Pallas spoke.

  “Amaranda, when you were left motherless on this island, we elders didn’t quite know what to do with you. It was decided that you would be brought up by the women here as one of our own. I can see now that we may have made a mistake.

  “Your family was descendants of Melpomene, and many of them suffered terribly with melancholia, ending, unfortunately, in several suicides. Your mother, however, was quite different. Her name was Yalene, which means light, and she was the most cheerful, pretty, kind woman I ever met. She was the sort of person who made you feel happy just by being near her.”

  “You always told me my mother was a good person, Pallas, but I never knew what she was really like,” Amaranda said, sniffing.

  “I think, in many ways our personalities are dependent on our parental genes. As you know, your grandmother, Halimeda, was a Siren. I think your grandfather, whoever he was, must have been a good man, as he passed on some loving traits to the baby. After she had your mother, Halimeda’s health was poor, so she had to undertake other duties on the island.”

  “She used to cook griddle scones and berry cookies,” Amaranda said, remembering tales of her grandmother relayed by other members of the community.

  “That’s right, dear,” Pallas said, smiling. “Unfortunately she died just before your mother was twenty-one.”

  “Was my mother a Siren?” Amaranda asked.

  “She went out to Destiny Rock as soon as she was of age and sang beautifully to the sailors. Like you, she hadn’t realized until then that they were expected to perish so brutally on the rocks, one way or another. Usually, by the time the realization dawns on them, they are so orgasmic that it doesn’t matter to them.”