“I don’t have one.”
“That’s okay,” Daniel assured her. “We’ll come up with one.”
EIGHT
Ungrateful
Gemma woke up while it was still dark out, and she barely made it to the bathroom in time. She leaned over the porcelain bowl, retching up what little contents she had in her stomach. It was Friday, and the last time she’d eaten anything had been days ago.
Once she’d finished throwing up, Gemma leaned back against the tiles of the bathroom wall and tried to catch her breath. Her mind swirled, dizzy and aching from the watersong.
Her skin felt too tight. Sweat clung to her flesh, drying sticky and making it feel as if she were shrink-wrapped.
A shower seemed like the best solution. It wouldn’t completely erase the way she felt, but it might ease her sickness a bit.
Outside, the sky was starting to lighten, and dim blue light spilled in through the bathroom window. Gemma decided to leave the light off, preferring the semidarkness. That would probably upset her migraine the least.
When she turned on the faucet, she kept it cool, even though she still had the chills. The cold sweat left her shivering. But she thought a cold shower might clear her head.
Standing under the spray, she found it hard not to sing. She hadn’t sung since she’d accidentally called to Alex back at her house in Capri, and she’d nearly hurt him. Even worse, it had left him more susceptible to the other sirens.
So though the lyrics played on her tongue until she had to bite her lip to keep them from escaping, Gemma didn’t sing. She was too afraid of accidentally luring another guy into this mess.
If Sawyer weren’t living here with them, she might have been tempted to try a soft lullaby or humming to herself. But it was bad enough that Penn and Lexi had him wrapped around their fingers. Gemma didn’t want to control him, too.
At least the shower was helping. Her body craved water the way plants craved sunlight. The tap water wasn’t exactly right, partially because of all the chemicals used to treat it, but mostly because it wasn’t salt water from the ocean.
Normally, when her skin got wet, she’d feel this fluttering sensation in her legs as they tried to transform into a tail. It wouldn’t work, not fully, because only the ocean induced the transition.
This time, she felt nothing. It was as if her body didn’t even have the strength to attempt to change. But her headache had abated, and that was all she really hoped for.
Gemma moved on to washing her hair, and she caught herself humming despite her attempts not to. The sound of the running water would probably drown it out, though, so she decided to go with it.
As she was washing her hair, something tangled in her fingers. She pulled her hand out to inspect it in the ever-brightening morning light. It was a whole clump of her own hair, and Gemma yelped in shock.
She reached up and pulled at her hair. Without her even really trying, another chunk of hair came out.
While she’d never considered herself particularly vain, the sight of her hair falling out was a terrible shock. It wasn’t about the way she would look so much as that she associated hair loss with people dying, like cancer patients.
The shower curtain flew open, and Gemma hurried to cover herself with her arms so she wasn’t standing there so exposed.
Penn stood on the other side of the tub, glaring at Gemma in the way only Penn could glare. It was like her black eyes sliced right through Gemma.
Beyond that evil death gaze, Penn looked stunning, for the first thing in the morning. She wore a black silk nightie that stopped at the middle of her thighs, and her glossy black hair hung down her back.
“Penn!” Gemma shouted.
“Your fucking hair is falling out,” Penn said, her tone going past annoyed to full-on bitchy.
“Yeah.” Gemma swallowed back her fear and tried to cling to her indignation. “I’m also naked. So it’d be great if you could close the curtain and give me some privacy.”
“You need to eat something,” Penn said, ignoring her.
“I’m not gonna eat anything right now,” Gemma said. “I’m in the shower.”
She wanted to reach out and grab the curtain so she could pull it shut herself, but that would mean leaving herself out in the open. As it was, one arm was barely covering her chest while the other attempted to hide her nether regions.
“You are no good to me dead, Gemma,” Penn warned her. “If you don’t eat something, you will die. And then I will be royally pissed. Do you know what happens when I get pissed, Gemma?”
Gemma sighed. “No.”
“I get even.” Penn leaned in toward her and lowered her voice. “That means I’ll go after that stupid boy you like and your ugly sister.”
Gemma lowered her eyes. The cold water was still dripping down her body, and it took all her strength to keep from shivering.
All she wanted to do was protect Harper and Alex. That was why she’d left, why she’d agreed to any of this. But there were still some lines she wouldn’t cross. Even if it meant risking the people she cared about most, Gemma wasn’t sure that she could do it.
“I won’t kill anyone,” Gemma said finally.
“You can’t even attract anyone to kill. You look like zombie Barbie right now.” Penn gestured to Gemma, who was looking pale and ill, with hair still tangled in her fingers. “You need to swim.”
“I don’t want to—” Gemma began, but Penn cut her off.
“That wasn’t a suggestion.” Penn smirked at her. “That was a command, Gemma, and as I recall, you promised to follow all my commands.”
Before Gemma could agree or disagree, Penn grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the tub. She tripped over the lip and fell to the floor, but that gave her a chance to pick up the spaghetti-strapped nightgown she’d slept in. Penn let go of her long enough for Gemma to slide it over her head, then she was pulling on her arm again.
“This has gone on long enough,” Penn said as she dragged Gemma out of the bathroom.
Gemma glanced down the hall and saw that everyone had come out to see what the commotion was about. Lexi and Thea stood in front of a bedroom door. Sawyer looked like he’d just stumbled out of a room, his hair disheveled from sleep.
“Do you need help, Penn?” Sawyer asked as Penn led Gemma down the stairs.
“Not now, Sawyer!” Penn snapped.
His entire face fell. “Sorry, babe.”
“The problem is that I’ve been too kind,” Penn said, returning to her rant at Gemma. “I’ve let you into our fold. I’ve given you the greatest gift you could ever ask for, and you throw it all back in my face.”
Gemma stumbled a few times, her wet feet slipping on the marble floor, but Penn never slowed down. If she didn’t hurry up, Penn was liable to rip her arm out of its socket.
When they made it outside, it got harder for Gemma to keep her footing. The back door opened right onto the beach, and the sand made it nearly impossible for her to stand.
Penn must’ve tired of dragging her along, because she yanked Gemma’s arm so hard Gemma stumbled to the ground. Gemma sat up but didn’t get to her feet.
“What is wrong with you?” Penn shouted, glowering over her.
“I didn’t ask for this!” Gemma shot back, trying to match Penn’s glare.
“Neither did I!” Penn growled. “But I made the best of it! Why can’t you?”
“How have you made the best of it?” Gemma asked. “What have you done that’s so great?”
“Don’t you dare question my choices!” Penn shook her head. “You have no right! And you know what? It doesn’t matter what you think or what you want or if you’re happy.”
“Why don’t you just let me go?” Gemma asked.
“You are a siren and I can’t let you go!” Penn shouted. “The sirens have to stay together. If one of us leaves for more than a week or so, we all die. You have to stay with us. As you agreed. If you want to be miserable, that’s fine by me. But you will not d
ie. We had an agreement, and you will do what I say!”
As much as Gemma hated to admit it, she knew Penn was right. So she let out a deep breath and looked up at her. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”
“For starters, get in that ocean and swim before all your hair falls out and your skin starts to slide off.” Penn pointed to the water lapping on the beach.
Gemma wasn’t sure if Penn was exaggerating, or if the next step in her deterioration really would be her skin falling off. But she didn’t want to find out, and she definitely knew it wasn’t in her best interest to push Penn right now.
She got up and walked out into the ocean, giving in to the song that had been haunting her for days. The waves knocked her down, and she fell into them.
When her legs didn’t turn, she began to panic. The familiar flutter of the transformation didn’t come. The waves started pulling her out to sea. She tried to swim and fight it, but she was too weak. The water was taking over, pulling her under, and if she didn’t transform soon, she would drown.
And then, when Gemma was beginning to think it was too late, it finally happened. It wasn’t as smooth or as pleasurable as it normally was. Her legs thrashed for a while before they became a tail.
She breathed in deeply, grateful to be able to again, and then she swam off.
For a moment, all her cares evaporated. Her skin felt alive, tingling with the magic of the water. Even her scalp began to prickle, and Gemma realized that her hair was growing back. All of her aches and pains were washed away.
As she swam, darting around in the ocean like a dolphin at play, Gemma considered running away. Or swimming away, as it were.
She could leave this all behind, Penn and the sirens and the issues with feeding. Thea had told her of Aggie’s plan to die that way, to just swim out to sea and let themselves starve. Gemma could do that. The other sirens would eventually die without Gemma, and this would all be over for everyone.
But then she thought of Alex and Harper. As soon as Penn realized what she’d done, that Gemma had left, Penn would go after them and kill them.
Penn may have been able to kill her own sister, but Gemma never could. She couldn’t even stand the thought of Harper being hurt.
Gemma surfaced, and the sun was completely over the horizon now. She was quite a ways from the shore, but she could still make out Penn’s figure standing on the beach, watching her swim.
That was when Gemma finally understood that Penn was a whole different kind of creature than her. Even when Gemma had been her maddest at Harper, she’d never have even dreamed of killing her. Or anyone, for that matter.
Penn might be evil, but it wasn’t because she was a siren. Gemma would do as she was told and be a dutiful little siren, but she was determined not to let herself become the same kind of monster as Penn.
NINE
Funeral
The funeral was small, but Harper hadn’t really expected it to be any different. Bernie McAllister had planned it himself, long before he died, and he was a simple man, so it made sense that his final wishes would be simple.
After Brian had found out about Bernie’s death, he’d actually called the funeral home to set up something, only to discover that everything had been prepaid. According to the funeral director, Bernie had taken care of it all shortly after his wife died some fifty years ago.
As far as Harper knew, the only family Bernie had was one sister, and she lived in England, if she was even still alive. Bernie had spoken very little of his family, only mentioning his long-deceased wife on occasion.
The service was at the funeral home. Bernie had declined to have a wake, and the service wasn’t very well attended. Bernie had been an old man who kept to himself, and many of his friends had already passed away.
Most of the people there were his former coworkers. Bernie had worked out at the docks for years, long before Harper’s father had started, and according to Brian, Bernie had been very well liked down there.
The poor attendance was probably more a result of it being a Friday afternoon, when it was hard for people to get time off. Brian’s foreman was pretty strict, and it had been a bit of a struggle for him to take the time, but Brian refused to miss the funeral.
Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Brian actually looked better than he had in days. He’d shaved today, and the dark suit he wore looked good on him, even if he looked uncomfortable in it. He always seemed ill at ease in anything other than jeans, but Harper thought her father cleaned up rather well.
Before the funeral got fully under way, people were milling around, speaking to one another in hushed tones. This was the time when they could pay their final respects to Bernie.
Bernie had a closed coffin, and Harper knew why. As hard as she tried to remember the wonderful, warm man he’d been, when she thought of him, the only image that came to her mind was the final one she had of him: his body torn open as he lay bleeding on the island he’d loved so much.
Harper had gone to the front of the room with her father, joining him as he said good-bye to the old man. Brian put his hand on the smooth wood of the coffin, awkwardly rubbing it for a minute before lowering his hand.
“I wish we’d spent more time with him these last few years,” Brian said. He wasn’t crying, at least not yet, but he sniffled and his voice was thick.
“Me, too,” Harper agreed.
Brian shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “Gemma should be here.”
“Yeah. She should.”
Harper had been hoping he wouldn’t bring up Gemma today, but he was right. Gemma should’ve been here.
She didn’t know if Gemma even knew that Bernie was dead. Gemma had been out on the island, but that didn’t mean she’d seen him.
Then a new thought, a horrible, dirty one, wormed itself into her brain. Maybe Gemma had had something to do with Bernie’s death.
As soon as she thought it, Harper dismissed the idea. There was no way her sister would have anything to do with hurting anybody, let alone someone she cared about like Bernie.
But then again, Harper had seen firsthand what the sirens had been able to do, not just to Bernie but to Luke Benfield and the other boys they’d killed. The sirens were evil, so it wasn’t unreasonable to think that Gemma could act monstrous, too.
The service was about to start, so Brian and Harper took their seats. It was a small room in the back of the funeral home, filled with thirty or so folding chairs, and most of them were empty. Since they seemed to be the closest to Bernie during his last years, Brian and Harper sat in the front row.
The pastor gave his brief sermon, then invited people up to say a few words. Harper didn’t think that her dad had planned on saying anything, but when nobody else got up, Brian rose and stood in front of the casket.
“Um, I’m Brian Fisher,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Most of you know me from working out at the docks, and I suppose that’s how you knew Bernie, too.”
Brian kept his eyes down when he spoke, and Harper knew it was because he didn’t want anyone to see the tears pooling in them. When he glanced up at her, she smiled reassuringly, and that seemed to embolden him a bit.
“I’ve known Bernie for over twenty years.” He gestured to the coffin behind him. “He was a hard worker and hardly missed a day in all the time we worked together. He took me under his wing, and outside of work he was a good friend.
“When my wife—” His voice caught in his throat, and he paused a moment to collect himself. “He, um, he took care of my girls when I couldn’t, and for that I will be forever grateful. I don’t know what would’ve happened to my family if it hadn’t been for Bernie.”
Tears filled Harper’s eyes as she listened to her father talk.
“I had the pleasure of seeing him a few days ago,” Brian went on. “And he was as spry and happy as ever. He still had so much life in him.” He let out a long breath, then turned to the coffin. “At least you get to be with your wife now, Bernie. I know you
’ve been waiting a long time to see her.”
He looked back at the pastor awkwardly. “I guess that’s all I have to say. Thank you.”
The pastor thanked him as Brian hurried to his seat. He exhaled deeply as he collapsed next to Harper. She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder.
“That was very sweet, Dad,” she told him. “Bernie would’ve liked that.”
The service finished up shortly afterward. The pastor asked people to come out to the cemetery for the burial if they liked, but most of the attendees seemed to be leaving.
Brian and Harper got up with the intention of heading out to their car when a man in a gray suit approached them. He looked familiar, but everybody in Capri looked familiar. The town wasn’t that big, so even if Harper didn’t personally know certain people, she’d probably seen them around.
“You’re Brian Fisher?” the man asked.
“That’s right,” Brian said cautiously.
“I’m Dean Stanton, Bernie’s lawyer.” The man stuck out his hand, but Brian was slow to shake it.
“Bernie had a lawyer?” Brian sounded genuinely surprised. “What did Bernie need a lawyer for?”
“I handled his will and his estate,” Dean said. “And I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you.”
“What for?” Harper asked, inserting herself in the conversation.
“He’s named you, Brian, as his beneficiary,” Dean said. “He didn’t have much in the way of life insurance. What he did have only covers what he owed on the island, but at least now you get the property free and clear.”
“What?” Brian shook his head, not understanding. “Property?”
“Yes, he’s left everything to you,” Dean explained. “The island and all of its contents, including the cabin, the boathouse, and the boat.”
“He left me the island?” Brian appeared dumbfounded, and he exchanged a confused glance with Harper. “He never told me that.”
“Well, he did,” Dean said. “I’ll need to have you come down to sign some papers.
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