All Hallows' Eve Collection

by Sarah M. Eden

  So, on land, but probably not on a mainland, as the liner had been fairly isolated. An island, perhaps? There were certainly plenty to choose from in the Mediterranean, some inhabited, some not. But the voices supported the former. Wherever he was, he was not alone.

  He tried not to look at the sky. The missing stars created a sense of wrongness in him. His brain insisted the stars were there; his eyes disagreed. The edges of his vision wavered like they did when he got a migraine. He closed his eyes and focused on the voices. He didn’t want to barge into a situation without preparing for it first.

  “You should not have brought him here,” a feminine voice said, her tone strong and unusually husky.

  “I was not going to leave him. I found him,” a younger-sounding voice replied, a hint of petulance beneath her words.

  I found you. The words echoed in his memory. Could it be the same creature from the water?

  He heard music layered beneath and between the words, but the notes were discordant, edged with anger.

  Oliver rolled to his knees, then into a crouch. He scraped his soaked hair back from his forehead. A flicker of light danced between the bushes on his right. Stepping carefully, his footsteps timed to his slow and even breathing, he approached.

  Pushing aside some of the smaller leaves, he created a peephole. Again, his mind and his eyes battled over the reality presented to him.

  His mind said it wasn’t possible. Not in the slightest.

  His eyes saw three women standing around a bonfire. One of them he recognized instantly. It was the woman who had abducted him— there was no other word for it— and her white skin, still wet from her swim, emitted a pale glow. Her silver-scaled legs were lean and muscular. Her back was to him so he could clearly see where the wings attached to her shoulders. The feathers rustled and ruffled, but whether from the ceaseless breeze or as a result of her frustration, he couldn’t tell.

  Facing the white woman were two others. The three were similar enough to each other that Oliver’s first thought was Sisters. Like his captor, the other women had silver scales covering part of their white skin, but the scales on the one on his left ended just below her breasts, while the third woman had scales all the way up to her neck.

  What did it mean? Was it a deformity? A mark of authority? A sign of age? Oliver felt himself reverting to his three-part training: observe, analyze, act. He knew he had to stay detached, impartial, unemotional, otherwise the strangeness of the evening would drive him insane.

  “You should not have gone looking for him,” the tallest of the three said, the one with the scales up to her neck.

  Then she said one more word, but Oliver’s ears heard it only as a note of pure music. His brain struggled to translate the sound into something recognizable, something familiar. Glau. A word. A name?

  When the musical note transformed into language, the sound of it shivered into his body, sliding down his nerve endings until his skin tingled on the inside. He grimaced at the pain, even as he leaned forward, hoping to hear them speak again.

  “I told you she would do it, sister,” the woman on the left said. “You know Glau cannot resist a challenge.”

  “Mol is right, Thel,” Glau said, her shoulders straightening with pride. “I have done what you dared not do. What you could not do.”

  Again, as the two high notes of pure music were spoken, Oliver’s brain transformed them into language, into names. Mol. Thel. He filed them away, trying to focus on the conversation even as the tingling sensation in his nerves increased with every word the women spoke.

  The two older sisters exchanged a glance. Thel, the tallest, with scales up to her neck, rolled her head on her shoulders and snapped open her wings. “I repeat: You should not have gone looking for him. You should not have brought him here.”

  “But…” Mol prompted, her own wings unfurling and curling like a question mark.

  “But—” Thel glared at both her sisters. “I am glad you did. It has been far too long since we have enjoyed a… guest.”

  Glau’s wings twitched in silent victory, and even without seeing her face, Oliver knew she was smiling.

  “Bring him,” Thel ordered. “The night grows late.”

  “Oh, but he is already here,” Glau cooed. “Or could you not tell?” She half-turned, looking over her shoulder directly at Oliver’s hiding spot. Her black eyes were darker than the empty night sky. Her mouth, which had indeed been smiling, widened into something bordering on a snarl, and her small pink tongue darted out to lick her lip before retreating behind sharp-looking teeth.

  She crooked a finger in his direction and beckoned him forward.

  Oliver rose. His nerves responded to every sound the sisters made, increasing from a warm tingle to a hot vibration to a roaring inferno, as if a molten-hot coal had been placed in his belly, threatening to char him from the inside out.

  A small portion of his soul screamed at him that this was dangerous, that he should turn and run back into the sea and swim as far and as fast as he could until this island was someplace beyond the horizon.

  But the heat had consumed him, controlled him. He had to stay. He had to hear more of their words, their music, their song.

  Without hesitating, Oliver pushed through the bushes and strode toward the bonfire and directly to the strange women who circled the flames.

  Chapter Five

  “He is beautiful,” Mol said.

  The sound of her voice, so near to Oliver’s ears, rocked him, and he fell to his knees in the soft sand.

  “He is perfect,” Glau insisted. She touched Oliver’s shoulder, and he leaned into her cold hand. He couldn’t help it.

  “He will do,” Thel said. She folded her arms across her chest and snapped her wings closed. “I will be first, as—”

  “What?” Glau shouted. “No!” She dug her fingers into Oliver, and the flame in his belly hissed in response to her anger.

  “—As is my right as the eldest,” Thel finished.

  “But the first memories are the most potent.” Mol traced the scales across her belly. “What if there is nothing left for us?”

  “Look at him,” Thel said. “There is enough for all of us. He is so full of memories, his emotions are seeping out of him. He is ripe and ready to burst.”

  The words washed over Oliver. He suspected he heard only one in ten and understood even fewer. The fire banked in his body made his skin hot to the touch, and his doctor’s uniform, which had been soaking wet from his time spent underwater, was nearly dry.

  “Wha—” He tried to speak, but the effort made his muscles seize up. He tried again. “What are—”

  He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say. What are you talking about? What are you going to do to me? What are you?

  “Hush, my sweet,” Glau murmured to him. She ran her fingers through his hair, leaving behind tracks of heat. “Speaking is unnecessary on our island. We have everything we need right here—” She moved her hand from the top of his head down to his temple, tapping it with a hard-edged fingernail. “And here.” She trailed her hand down his cheek, down his neck, down his chest, to rest against his heart. “If you let us in willingly,” she said in a half-song, “it will go much better for you.”

  The fire she ignited was such an intense blend of pleasure and pain that Oliver couldn’t stop himself from nodding. Yes, he thought, lightning-fast, before the No that rushed to his lips could be spoken.

  Glau smiled at her sisters in triumph. “As simple as that.”

  Thel wrinkled her nose. “Is he a warrior? He smells of pain.”

  “Good warriors know when to fight— and when to surrender.” Glau shrugged. “If you don’t want him…”

  “I did not say that.” Thel moved faster than Oliver’s eyes could follow. One moment she was towering over him, silver scales shifting on her skin like waves on the water. The next moment she was by his side, her arms around him, her hands cradling his head, gently helping him to lie back on the sand. />
  It is time to rest.

  Oliver heard Thel’s words in his mind even though he didn’t see her lips move.

  It is time to relax.

  What are you going to do? He didn’t know how he thought it toward Thel, but she smiled as if she had heard him.

  We will sing you to sleep. And while you sleep, you will dream. And then we will take all the pain and hurt and sorrow from you. You will be freed. You will wake a new man.

  Oh. That didn’t sound so bad. His vision blurred, and he felt dizzy, as if the earth stood still and he was the one spinning atop it.

  Thel stretched out next to Oliver, fitting her body next to his. Her scales were a cooling balm against his fever-hot skin. Mol knelt at Oliver’s head; she brushed his hair back from his eyes. Glau knelt at his feet; her hand fit perfectly around his ankle.

  Rest, Thel repeated. Relax. Remember.

  This time, though, she opened her mouth, but what came out weren’t the words Oliver heard in his head. A song poured out of her, heavy and dark and sweet and light all at the same time. Mol joined in, the two voices weaving and dancing together in perfect rhythm. Glau waited a moment before rounding out the trio. Her voice was the highest and loveliest sound Oliver had ever heard.

  Rest. Relax. Remember. The three sisters sang in unison, then in harmony, then individually.

  Rest. Glau.

  Relax. Mol.

  Remember. Thel placed her hand over Oliver’s heart. The fire in his body flared into life at her touch. She leaned closer and kissed his forehead.

  Remember the first, the best, the brightest. Remember it for me. Sing it for me.

  The sisters’ song rose in both volume and intensity. It was endless. It was powerful.

  Oliver dove into the sound as if it was water. He was weightless, worry-less.

  My first memory? Oliver’s mind spiraled away from him, rising up into the blackness that stretched from horizon to horizon on this unreal island.

  Oliver relaxed— and remembered— as the siren sisters sang the stars back into the sky.

  My mother finishes painting a whiskery beard on my chin with her makeup pencil. She leans back on her heels, hands on her thighs, and beams at me. “Oh, Ollie, you are so cute!”

  I don’t want to be cute. I am a pirate, and pirates are scary. Pirates are brave. Pirates fight sea monsters and have adventures and rescue princesses. I am only five years old, and even I know that.

  Mom takes a picture of me, the flash bright in my one good eye. The other is covered by a black patch. I clutch my pumpkin bucket in sweaty hands. My insides feel wiggly and bubbly. Halloween is my favorite. I’ve waited all day for the sun to go down. I can’t wait any more.

  “Can we trick-n-treat now?” I ask, earning a laugh from Mom.

  “Of course we can. Just let me get my shoes.”

  The wiggles inside me try to get out. My plastic sword swings against my hip as I hop from foot to foot. I try not to think about all the candy that is hidden behind all the doors up and down the street. I am a pirate, and I will claim it all for my own.

  Ding-dong.

  Someone is at the door. Someone else is already out trick-n-treating.

  “I’ll get it!” I shout and run, the wiggles making me go fast.

  I am small, but I can open the front door.

  “Trick-or-treat!” calls out the princess standing in front of me.

  She is my age; her mom and dad are standing a few steps away from the door. Her hair is yellow, and her eyes are blue. The princess holds out her black bucket with spider’s legs on all sides. “Trick-or-treat,” she demands.

  I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

  I’ve never seen her before. Maybe she’s new. She is… so pretty. Prettier than anything. Prettier even than my mom.

  “Hi,” I say. “I’m a pirate.”

  She moves her hip out, making her pink dress swish in the last of the sunlight. “I’m a princess.”

  I can’t say anything. My heart is running faster than it did when Mr. Thompson’s dog barked at me.

  The princess sighs and holds out her spider to me. She shakes it. There isn’t much candy in it yet. “You’re supposta give me candy. That’s the rule.”

  Suddenly my mom is behind me, opening the door even wider. I am moved out of the way.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Eden.” Mom waves to the other grown-ups. “And hello to you, princess.” Mom grabs the candy bowl and crouches down so the princess can choose her favorite.

  She picks Butterfingers. That’s my favorite too. I smile without knowing why.

  “What’s your name, princess?” Mom asks.

  “My mom and dad call me Catherine.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “But I call me Cate,” she finishes boldly, just like a princess should.

  “Welcome to the neighborhood,” Mom says. “Maybe you and Oliver could have a play date sometime.” Mom points at me and smiles.

  Catherine— Cate— looks me up and down. I drop my pumpkin bucket. “Yeah, okay.” Then she twirls away and bounces down the steps.

  Mom closes the door and sees me standing there. “You okay, Ollie?”

  “I’m gonna marry her,” I say.

  Mom laughs, but I mean it. She drops a Butterfingers into my bucket as she hands it back to me. “Happy Halloween. You ready to go get some candy?”

  Chapter Six

  Pain lanced through Oliver, arching his back and making his heels drum against the sand. All the air in his body exploded out of him in one harsh exhale.

  Thel rolled away from him, her wings spread out beneath her like a blanket. She rubbed her hand against her mouth and giggled, high and childlike. The sound felt wrong coming from such a formidable person. Her silver scales now coated her throat and the underside of her jaw. Even without the starlight, they glimmered and glowed.

  “How was it?” Mol asked.

  “What did you see?” Glau said at the same time.

  Thel raised her arms over her head and stretched her body like a cat. She smiled— lazy, fat, and happy— and purred. “That was… delicious.”

  “My turn,” Mol said, wings fluttering. She scrambled to replace Thel by Oliver’s side.

  Thel laughed. “No rush, my sister. If all his memories are like that one, we will feast on him for days. It has been too long since I have tasted such wonder.”

  Oliver shook his head. He felt different. Fire still blazed under his skin, but a part of his mind was clear, cool, and curiously empty. He mentally probed that emptiness, and a fleeting sensation of pirates and princesses drifted through his mind before dissipating like blown smoke from a candle.

  The truth crashed in on him like cymbals. Thel had stolen his memory. Worse, she had consumed it.

  He pushed Mol away and tried to lever himself up on his elbows, but Glau pinned his feet down into the sand.

  “Let me go,” he said. The words came easier to him than before. He wondered if that should frighten him.

  Glau glared at him with her black eyes. “Not yet,” she said.

  “My turn,” Mol said again, pulling Oliver down next to her. Thel still giggled, drunk on Oliver’s memory.

  “Thel,” Glau snapped. “We need you. Anchor him.”

  The eldest siren sighed through pouted lips but did as she was told, replacing Glau at Oliver’s feet so Glau could take Mol’s empty place at Oliver’s head.

  Oliver, pinned down, could only stare up at Glau’s dark eyes. She bent her face over his.

  “Please,” he whispered. “No more.”

  Glau’s eyes were flint and steel. “It’s Mol’s turn.”

  “Why?” Oliver tried again. “Why did you take me? Why won’t you let me go?”

  Glau looked at Thel, whose eyes were closed in bliss, and at Mol, who was arranging her wings and scale-covered legs, and then back to Oliver. Anger turned her white skin the palest pink. “Because I heard your song. I’ve never heard such sorrow and grief before. I wanted it.” She placed her fingers
on Oliver’s brow and growled, low in her throat. “We don’t want your happy memories. Give Mol something sad. Something painful.”

  Oliver certainly had enough of those kinds of memories, and part of him would be happy to let Mol take them away, but life was about balancing the bitter with the sweet. Though it seemed like lately all his memories were bittersweet, especially when it came to Cate.

  “No!” Glau snapped. “Don’t think of her—”

  But it was too late. The sirens resumed their song, and Oliver remembered.

  I am running through the rain and the dark and the wind. I am holding Cate’s hand as she runs next to me. I am laughing. We both are.

  Lightning flashes in the sky, and thunder rumbles close. Cate shrieks and runs faster. Now she is pulling me along.

  We are heading for the high school. The Halloween dance is already underway, and Cate and I are late. We are juniors, and it is our first date, and I wanted it to be memorable— just maybe not this memorable.

  “C’mon, Oliver, quick before—”

  Lightning. Thunder. Cate throws her laugh back into the storm, unafraid.

  We slip and slide our way through the puddles and into the school. I look at Cate. She looks at me. We both burst out laughing again.

  Cate’s costume is ruined. I’m sure mine is as well. We’re dressed up as Danny and Sandy from Grease. Cate has my leather jacket, which helped shield her from the rain, though now my T-shirt is soaked through. Her skirt drips water on the school carpet.

  “Guess I should have driven after all,” I say.

  Cate smiles, and my heart flips. “I didn’t mind the walk.” A lock of blonde hair tumbles free from her clip and lands on her perfect, upturned nose. “Besides, a little water never hurt anyone.”

  “Tell that to the Wicked Witch of the West,” I said.

  She laughs so hard she gives an unladylike snort, which only makes her laugh harder. “C’mon,” she finally manages to say. “I know what to do.”