“I-I’m still not exactly sure what I was thinking. I plead temporary insanity.”
For breaking up with Melusine? For wanting to kiss me? For both? “For what?”
“For taking advantage of our friendship like that. I’d never want you to feel like some rebound.”
Does that mean he doesn’t want me now or he wouldn’t want me ever? “I totally understand.” Even though I don’t.
“I’m glad one of us does.” He smiles, but it isn’t his usual cocky smirk. It’s almost … sheepish. “My friends say I’ve been zoned out lately. They think it’s stress. I don’t know what it is, but I’m sorry I acted weird. Everything yesterday was kind of a blur. I guess because so much changed so fast.” Frustration fills his words when he says, “I was just so sick of Mel bossing me around. I couldn’t take it anymore. But, that’s no excuse for involving you.” He looks up at me and raises one eyebrow. “Forgive me?”
“Of course,” I say. If he knew what I’d done to him, he could never forgive me.
“You rock, Nautilus.”
I don’t. I don’t deserve his praise. I need to change the subject—and I need information. “So, have you talked to Mel today?”
“No, she didn’t come to school.”
I don’t know whether to be relieved he hasn’t spoken to her or disappointed he doesn’t know anything.
“But she texted me. She wants to talk later, so I’m heading to her place after school.”
“No!”
I can’t let him go over there. That’s what she’s planning! She didn’t come to school today because she’s waiting to get him alone—to get him away from me—so she can siren him back.
“Don’t worry. I’m just going to drop off a few of her things so she knows it’s really over.”
“Clay, please don’t go.” I grab his hand and look him directly in the eyes, hoping he’ll understand my urgency. “Trust me. She’ll hurt you.”
“She can’t hurt me if I don’t let her. I have to talk to her. I owe her that. But I won’t let her mess with my feelings,” he says, squeezing my hand before releasing it. A sinking feeling hits my stomach.
No, you won’t. Because I’m going to mess with them first.
I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do. It’s wrong. It’s so wrong. But what other choice do I have? I fight to push my thoughts down, to smother the little voice inside that’s screaming at me not to do this.
When the bell rings and we walk out of the classroom, I grab Clay’s arm with a trembling hand and pull him away from the crowds of students making their daily exodus through the double doors. I set my jaw and tell myself I have to do it. If I don’t, she will.
“Nautilus, what—”
I try to force myself to stop shaking. I lean up and, before I can talk myself out of it, I hum Clay’s song in his ear.
I can only manage a few bars before I choke on a sob, disgusted with myself.
But it’s enough. His worry lines smooth out, his face a blank canvas. I swallow. Now’s not the time for me to give into my emotions. I place my hands on either side of Clay’s face and look directly in his eyes.
“Clay, I need you to do something for me. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s important.”
“Anything,” he says, his voice a creepy monotone. It almost throws me, but I stand firm.
“I need you to … ” To what? If I tell him not to go to Melusine’s, she’ll just try this same stunt again tomorrow. “ … to go to Melusine’s house, but no matter what she does, tell her it’s over. Even if she sings to you.”
Talking to him when he’s like this is like talking to a zombie. I’m so scared he won’t understand. “Clay, are you listening?”
“Yes. I’ll go to Melusine’s house and tell her it’s over.”
“Even if she sings to you.”
“Even if she sings to me.”
“As soon as you leave, you should come straight to my house and tell me how it went. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I lower my hands and give Clay permission to go when he asks. I watch his retreating back and feel worse with every step he takes. Yesterday, when I sang to Clay, I hadn’t planned it or even thought it through—I had just wanted to save him. Sirening him yesterday had been an impulse. This, this was a choice.
I’m still questioning that choice hours later.
“What whirlpool are you spinning in?” Lazuli asks as she moves her carved ivory dolphin forward three spaces and clips it to the board. She’s beating me. Everyone is—even Em, who despite her skill in nearly every other area, fails miserably at Spillu.
I usually love to play. The board is beautiful, a family heirloom with spaces alternating between mother of pearl and the weathered wood of a sunken pirate ship. It’s one of the only pieces in our home that’s made from both Mer and human materials, not one or the other. The game requires focusing and thinking a step ahead of your opponent. But tonight, I have an opponent more real than my sisters. And all my thoughts are on Clay, who’s with her right now.
“I win!” Amy declares as she clips her onyx sea lion to the winning square. She stands and does a victory dance around the patio. Her stance is wobbly, but she stays upright and everyone applauds.
“Go, Aims! You’re gonna be hitting the mosh pit with me any day now,” Lapis says.
“I highly doubt that,” my mother calls from the pool.
“Dancing is so much more fun now that I have feet,” Amy says. My father abandons the shrimp grilling on the barbecue and spins her around the sunken outdoor fireplace.
They laugh, but their merriment sounds muted to me. Distant. Clay still hasn’t come. What if it didn’t work? The konklilis said if a person had been sirened once, humming the song would reinstate the spell … but what if it wasn’t enough? What if Melusine was able to regain control? She could be making him do anything right now.
I have to suppress a shudder. I should have taken him into a classroom or something and sung the whole song, just to be safe. But it was all I could do to get through a few hummed lines. Even doing that to him made me feel dirty. Now, I wish I’d had the nerve to do it all the way. What if my squeamishness is the reason Clay’s not safe tonight?
“How ’bout a dance, angelfish?” my father asks, offering his hand.
Before his words register, the security system buzzes. Someone’s at the front gate.
I pop up like a flying silver carp. “I’ll get it. It’s for me. A book. I left a book at Clay’s last week and I need it.”
My mother hurries to lift herself from the pool. “Aurelia,” she says sharply, “you should have mentioned that human boy was coming over. I’m in no state to—”
“He’s not coming in. He’s just dropping off a book. Promise!” I’m already heading toward the front door.
As soon as I’m outside, I run. The serenity of the warm evening with its light, jasmine-scented breeze is at odds with the anxiety roiling inside me. When I reach Clay, he could be back under Melusine’s power. Maybe she sent him here to rub her victory in my face. Maybe she sent him here to hurt me.
I stop in my tracks. The truth sinks in as a stitch blooms painfully in my side. This could be a trap. Clay’s stronger than me, much stronger. If Melusine commanded him to strangle me to death, I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I picture myself gasping for breath as I die under his squeezing hands. Hands that just yesterday held mine as we strolled together.
The darkness of the long driveway stretches out before me. I’m the one who ordered him to come talk to me. If he is still under my power, he’ll wait out here all night if I don’t go to him. My legs reach a decision before my brain does, and I run toward the gate again. The gate! That’s what I’ll do. I’ll keep the gate between us. Once I talk to Clay, I’ll know if—
But Clay isn’t there.
Chapter Twelve
I should have checked the security camera. I’d waited for Clay for hours, and I w
anted so badly to know he was okay. So, when I heard the buzz at the gate, I just assumed … But it’s not Clay.
It’s Melusine.
For one heart-stopping moment, I’m sure it’s her.
Then I get closer. While this girl also has a thin figure and shiny dark hair, she’s shorter and younger than Melusine.
“Staskia?” Amy talks about her antics incessantly, but it’s been a while since I’ve actually seen her best friend. Defined cheekbones have replaced the baby fat, but the freckles and bright eyes are the same.
“Hey, Lia! Is Aims around?”
“Sure. C’mon in.” I unlock the gate and usher her in, my heart rate returning to normal. I peer behind her into the darkness, hoping for a glimpse of Clay. No one’s there.
“Why’re you using this entrance?” I ask. Other Mer almost always swim to our house through the underwater tunnels.
“Practice,” she answers, lifting one leg a few inches and shaking it. An ankle bracelet jingles there, and several toe-rings decorate her flip-flop clad feet. I went through a toe-ring phase, too. I’d been so excited to have toes that all I’d wanted to do was show them off. “I was hoping Amy and I could take Barnacle out and practice walking.”
“She’ll love that,” I say. “Congrats on your legs, by the way. Amy told me the whole story.”
“Thanks! It was only mildly mortifying. You coming?” she asks as she starts up the driveway.
Something rustles near one of the brugmansia trees that line our outside wall.
“You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She walks up the winding path with slow, deliberate steps. Only once she’s out of sight do I risk whispering into the darkness. “Clay? Are you there?”
He steps into the pool of light near the gate. The dark shadows under his eyes make him look haggard. “I didn’t know if I was supposed to interrupt,” he says.
His voice lacks the zombie quality it gets right after he’s been sung to, but he sounds so confused that he must still be under the effects of sireny. At least that means he’s probably too out of it to wonder about the conversation he may have just overheard. The question is, whose sireny is he under—mine or Melusine’s?
I locked the gate after letting Staskia in, and I keep it locked now. I don’t want to think that Clay might be here to hurt me, but I have to.
“Clay,” I keep my voice calm, “did you go to Mel’s?”
“Yes. I just left.”
He looks so worn out. All I want to do is reach forward and comfort him. But I can’t. Not yet. It might not be safe.
“How do you feel?” Maybe asking him questions about himself will bring him back, like it did yesterday.
“Like my thoughts are … ” he concentrates, “muddled.” Then he locks eyes with me. “Like I want to touch you.” He moves his hand through the bars of the gate and takes mine. I should pull away. What if it’s a trap? But I don’t. It may just be a spell making him want to touch me, but what if he really needs the physical comfort? He’s been through enough—I can’t deny him. And I don’t want to.
I let him bring my hand to his chest, the bars of the gate pressing against my own. I can feel his heart beating under my palm. Steady. Rhythmic.
“What happened at Mel’s?”
“I told her we were over. Then I came here. Wait … ” He looks away, trying to piece together his thoughts. “Why did I come here? You asked me to, right?”
“Yeah. I thought you might need moral support,” I say, in case he remembers this conversation later. But he’s lost in thought again, trying to make his way through the fog.
“She kept me there for hours. She kept apologizing over and over. She even tried singing me her favorite song. It’s strange, I used to love that song. Every time she sang it, I’d think about how perfect she was for me, and how much I loved her. But I don’t love her. I don’t.” His tone is vehement. “This time when she sang, all I could think about … was you.”
It worked. My humming worked. Melusine tried to siren Clay back, and she failed. He came back to me.
He takes my hand, still clasped in his, and rests his cheek against it. He looks so tired. I thought that if I could just get Clay through this night, I’d be overjoyed. But I don’t feel joyful. I don’t feel victorious or powerful or even relieved. All I feel is guilty.
And I’m about to feel worse.
I lean forward, the metal bars cold against my face. If I don’t do this, he’ll be defenseless soon. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Then, I sing.
She breezes through the halls like nothing’s changed. It makes my insides churn.
She can’t hurt Clay, she can’t hurt Clay, she can’t hurt Clay, I repeat to myself like a mantra. In the parking lot first thing this morning, I hummed into Clay’s ear the second I saw him to make sure he’d be safe from her.
But I have no idea if I’m safe. Violent spells died out long ago, but then again, so did siren songs. As I walk from class to class, a constant sense of foreboding plagues me. I expect her to corner me any second.
By lunch, she still hasn’t spoken a word to me—or to Clay. In fact, she seems to be ignoring both of us. I want to find this comforting, like she’s acknowledging defeat and giving up. I want to, and I almost do. Then, right after the bell rings, something sends me reeling.
Melusine stands out in the courtyard, the sun shining off her ebony tresses. She lets out a girlish giggle as she strokes the arm of the person next to her. Jake. He’s a member of the water polo team, and he’s ridiculously attractive. From the way Melusine squeezes his arm muscle over the sleeve of his team jacket, it’s clear she thinks so, too.
I nearly collapse under the weight of my own stupidity. How could I be this dumb? I’ve been so busy worrying about Melusine re-sirening Clay that the obvious possibility never occurred to me. Instead of trying to get Clay back, she can just siren another unsuspecting victim to replace him. And it looks like that victim will be Jake. She takes a step closer to him, molding her body against the side of his, and he smiles, completely oblivious to the danger he’s in. Then, she glances over her shoulder, meets my eyes, and winks.
Usually, I look forward to the end of the school day and the freedom it brings. But today, I dread it. Each passing second drags me closer to … How can I do it again? How can I keep defiling Clay’s mind this way? This will be the fifth time. The fifth time I commit an act so despicable it’s been considered a high crime for centuries. I can’t go through with this.
But if I don’t … It seems like maybe Melusine’s moved on to Jake, but what if she’s just messing with me so I’ll let my guard down and stop singing to Clay? Is she planning to swoop in and siren Clay again the second he’s free from my influence? After all, he’s the one she chose to keep as her fake, hypnotized boyfriend for weeks on end, not Jake. An image rises in my mind of Melusine sticking her tongue down Clay’s throat in front of the lockers. Of the haunted look in his eyes when he tried to explain to me why he was with her and couldn’t. Of his determination when he tried to break up with her on the boat. What else was she doing with him? I can’t let him go back to that.
That’s when I make an oath. I promise myself that I’ll siren him again to protect him, but I won’t do anything else to take advantage of him. It will just be temporary—until I can find another way to make sure he’s safe from Melusine.
“Clay,” I whisper, when the time comes and we’re half-hidden behind an ivy-covered column in front of the school tennis court, “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise.”
After I sing to him, I tell him to do whatever he’d normally do at home, hoping it will ease my guilt. I’m almost glad that today I’m expected to intern at the Foundation—I can’t stand to be near him, knowing I’m the one who’s sucked the life from his eyes.
When I arrive at work, my mind still swims with thoughts of Clay and what I’ve done to him. Some secretary or other is resear
ching in the file room today, so I type information on one konklili after another for over an hour until she leaves. The mindless data entry only gives me time to dwell on how much worse everything’s become. This morning I thought sirening Clay was my only problem. Now … what can I possibly do to protect Jake if Melusine does decide to siren him? I might not know him as well as I know Clay, and I might not … feel the same way about him as I do about Clay, but I can’t just let him or anyone else be the victim of Melusine’s brainwashing. I can’t sit by while that happens—it isn’t right. But what can I do to stop it? While the shells I’ve listened to say it’s possible for one siren to enchant many humans at the same time, I don’t know if I have that kind of power—and I won’t risk weakening my protection of Clay. A vein throbs in my temple. Even if I could siren Jake, Mel might just pick someone else. I can’t brainwash every boy she shows interest in. She’ll turn me into a monster no better than she is.
Clay’s expressionless face when I left him this afternoon rises to my mind’s eye. If I’m not a monster already …
I jump when the secretary slams the door behind her. Alone at last, I go through title after title, looking for anything that might help me. I can’t keep this up. Sirening Clay is wrong. It’s sick. I have to find another way to put an end to Melusine’s magic, and I have to do it now.
By the time I trudge through the front door, the only thing I have to show for my research is an angry red indentation biting into my ear from listening to so many konklilis. I try to do homework, but I can’t focus on my English paper … or my lab prep questions … or my problem set for pre-cal. The twins are out at their music lesson, and Amy’s over at Staskia’s. Em is embroiled in a heated conversation on her cellphone with what must be Leo. It doesn’t sound pretty. With none of my sisters here to distract me and my tension tight enough to snap, taking a dip in our hot springs grotto sounds too enticing to pass up. Maybe it will give me some clarity.
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