Their Siren (Daughters of Olympus Book 1)

by Charlie Hart

  That life is real.

  This though? The green glitter skin and siren calls and storms fiercer than those that Oahu has ever seen-- can’t be real.

  A day ago, I was so clueless. Without a worry in the world.

  How can so much change in such a short time?

  The selkie looks down at my leg, his eyes fixed on the radiating tattoo.

  “You did know,” he says, reading my mind. “You weren’t clueless, Harlow. You’ve always known you were different. And now that you’re twenty-one, what has always held you back is forever unleashed.”

  I scoff, not wanting to believe such insanity as we stand in what seems the eye of a storm. “You don’t know what has held me back,” I tell this man. “You don’t know me at all.”

  He shakes his head sadly, the gusts of winds pulling us apart. “Oh, I know plenty,” he says.

  We’ve been drawn to the water’s edge. The same way I was last night, but this time I’m moving away from my protector, not nearer, I’m going farther and farther away.

  “Then tell me,” I shout over the storm. “Because I followed you to find answers. Give them to me.”

  “What do you want to know?” he asks reaching out to me, trying to grasp hold of my hand. But the wind thrashes at me, dragging me to the ocean.

  My chest is tight as I try to put words to my deepest desire. The place in my heart that has never been filled. The part of me that has always been set apart, overcompensating for what I’m not.

  Enough.

  “I’ve only ever wanted to know one thing,” I admit as the water rushes around my body, my legs, my waist, my thighs.

  “And what is that, Harlow?” he calls out, as we are operated by a force stronger than our will.

  “I want to know where I belong.”

  “You belong with me.”

  And then, before I can answer, I am swept to the sea.

  Only this time, I’m not following anyone.

  This time I’m all alone.

  Chapter 10

  Harlow

  I’m pulled underwater as the storm rages above, and my head crashes into a rock.

  The ragged edge of the rock hits against my skull.

  This is it.

  The end.

  And while I may be able to breathe in the salty sea, I am no mermaid. I’m a woman, a girl still finding her voice, still learning to stand on her own two feet.

  Blood swirls around me, blooming into something dangerous.

  I close my eyes and stop fighting. Instead, I let go.

  And the magic that arrived last night, before I was pulled into the whirlpool, comes for me now. Bright beams of light catch me, seaweed spins around me, forcing my eyes open, and instead of clawing against the web of color and the ribbons of green, I let it carry me. It’s like a nest wrapping its arms around me, and my throbbing head rests against the orbs of color.

  I may be lost at sea, but I am safe.

  “Close your eyes, my child.”

  “Who is that?” I ask in a whisper.

  “Gaia,” a voice calls, enveloping me with warmth as my body is cradled in the sea.

  “I don’t know who that is,” I say, fighting to keep my eyes open.

  “You don’t need to know. You just need to trust.”

  “Trust what?”

  The beautiful creatures of the ocean swim with us, singing to us as we move.

  “Your power,” Gaia breathes, her voice growing fainter. “Your destiny.”

  “But I don’t understand,” I say, my head aching and my body tired, my entire person exhausted. “I just want to understand...,”

  “Fight back,” she says, her voice moving farther away, the light surrounding me, the warm nest of love dispersing. “Harness what is already inside of you, Siren.”

  I shake my head, crying out as I do, as the seaweed unravels around me, freeing me. I swim, reaching for the feeling that just surrounded me.

  But it is gone.

  “Gaia!” I scream. “Come back!”

  But it doesn’t return.

  Instead, my feet are firmly planted in the shallow sand.

  I press my toes into the ocean floor, walking out of the sea, realizing I’m out of the eye of the storm, and that I have ended up right back where I started.

  The beach where I was found twenty-one years ago.

  ----

  I push my key in the ignition. My cell phone is long gone after last night’s swept-to-sea montage, but luckily, I kept my purse in the unlocked car and can get home.

  What I really want, more than anything, is to crawl into my bed and sleep.

  Maybe if I do that I’ll wake up and realize that this entire thing was a nightmare. A daydream?

  Parts were amazing. Like when I gave my body to four men. Others not so much. The whole whirlpool thing really freaked me out.

  I drive toward home, pressing an old beach towel from the back seat against my skull. The bleeding has stopped, and the cut is at my hairline. I can tell stitches won’t be necessary. Thank god.

  But I still know my parents. While they expected me to stay out all night for my birthday--the plan was to crash with Chloe after--they will be worried sick if they see me with a head wound.

  When I get home, I try to think through what I will say about the fact I am wearing nothing but a guy’s t-shirt. But my legs are still glittering green and it feels weird for them to see that. Is that weird? To be embarrassed by something I don’t even understand?

  I dig into my back seat and find a rumpled pair of sweats. I pull them on, knotting the oversized t-shirt at the side like this is the new look all the cool kids in town are sporting.

  Walking into the house, I call out for them as I shake out my hair, making sure it hangs in my eyes, so I can cover the cut.

  Again. What am I trying to hide? And why do I want to hide anything anyway?

  “Mom? Dad?” I walk straight into the kitchen. I swallow, expecting a scene. Maybe they are worried about me being gone all night. I’m not exactly a party girl.

  But instead of seeing them, I just find a note.

  Hello Sleepyhead,

  Hope your night wasn’t too wild and crazy!

  We have a trip today and don’t forget you’re driving the sunset cruise.

  There’s a box of Leonard’s Malasadas for you!

  Love you,

  Mom and Dad

  I blink back tears. Why did I ever think what I have here wasn’t enough?

  I’m in a kitchen that smells like fresh lemons and where handwritten notes are left on counters and my favorite pastries are bought with intention. This is more than enough.

  How could this life--this beautiful and generous life--ever leave me feeling hollow? Ever make me feel like I am missing something?

  Because isn’t this everything? To love and be loved?

  I pull back the box of malasadas and pick up one of the golden-brown Portuguese donuts. Taking a bite of the fluffy dough, I try not to cry.

  The custard filling is delicious, and I feel like crap. Like my priorities are messed up and whatever happened last night, and this morning should be chalked up to a quarter-life crisis.

  Except that when I was in the water I felt alive. When I was on the boat I felt powerful. When I looked into the selkie’s eyes, I felt seen.

  So what is real?

  I take the last bite of the donut and lick the sugar glaze from my fingers and try to steady my shaky breath.

  Someone knocks on the door. I jump, startled by the noise.

  “Harlow?” Chloe calls. “You alive?”

  I bite my bottom lip, smoothing my hair. I am so not ready to divulge all the details of my night.

  “Coming!” I pull open the door, knowing that avoiding my best friend is also totally lame and not exactly living the badass life I proclaimed yesterday.

  “Coffee time, sleepyhead!” she says raising a cardboard container holding two iced coffees. “And you should answer your phone, I could have g
one into real labor.” She kisses me on the cheek, stepping inside.

  When she does, she tilts her head. Squinting. “What happened?”

  I widen my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  She purses her lips. “OMG. You totally had sex, didn’t you?”

  “How?... What?” I laugh sharply, taking the coffee from her.

  She grins. “You had birthday sex, didn’t you?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a sex-sense or something?”

  She nods, walking to the kitchen grabbing a pastry from the box before answering. “Basically.” She shrugs. “I mean, I may be nine months preggo and not exactly bringing sexy back at the moment.” She uses her hands to circle around her very round tummy--which, in my opinion, is actually the cutest pregnant belly of all time. “But I do have four lovers. So, sex is kinda my specialty.”

  I shake my head, unable to believe that this woman is so capable of breaking down my walls in five seconds flat. “Well then, sex guru, I have a story for you.”

  Chapter 11

  West

  The canvas sail is shredded, and the mast is down, but the wind is gentle. A perfect calm after a storm. But damn, my heart’s still racing. I’m catching my breath from the monsoon that nearly overtook this boat. I don’t know what the hell happened. One minute the skies were blue, and then the sea seemed to swell with anger.

  I’m sure as fuck glad it passed, but there’s damage to the boat. Still, all four of us are alive and that’s what matters.

  But there are no guarantees about Harlow.

  I fight to keep my emotions in check. If something happened to her, I’ll fucking lose it. I knew her for just one night, but it felt like an eternity. Like I could give her my forever.

  Crazy as hell, sure, but she cast a spell on me. And I don’t want it to break.

  Grabbing a bottle of water, I hydrate. I’m doing okay, but not everyone is hanging in there so well. Our muscles are ragged, and our energy spent. It was a hell of a few hours as we did everything within our power to keep ourselves alive.

  “You okay?” I cock my head toward Kai who looks worse for wear. “Pretty boy like you can’t handle the rough seas?”

  “I can handle plenty,” Kai says with a scowl. He runs a hand through his hair, leaning over the rail of the boat. “But that wasn’t rough waters. It was something else, West.”

  I clench my jaw, knowing he is right.

  But what the fuck could it have been?

  Crew and Eric walk over, eyes filled with exhaustion. Crew shakes his head. “Harlow wasn’t human and that storm wasn’t natural either. I don’t know what’s going on, but something is.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I say, still pissed at Crew for his half-assed effort when we were trying to salvage the mast as it fell across the deck, damaging the cabin top. The wind-driven rain caused serious damage inside the boat. In short-- we’re fucked.

  And Crew didn’t seem to give a shit while we were fighting the storm.

  “Dude, I don’t know why you care so much about this boat,” Crew says. “It isn’t ours. The sponsor will pay for the replacement.”

  I shake my head. Fucking tired of Crew and his outlook on everything. “You’re sure entitled for a guy who grew up--,”

  He cuts me off, raising a fist. “You wanna talk about where I grew up? Fuck you.”

  Eric pushes between us. “What the hell? Stop pointing fingers.”

  I smirk. “I’m just saying what everyone else was thinking.”

  “Enough, West,” Kai says. “Crew’s right. It isn’t our responsibility to fix the boat. We’ll run the engine toward shore, and once we’re in Waikiki, we’ll get a new boat.”

  I look out at the water, not understanding these guys. “And what happens when our sponsor just decides to drop us? When they decide they no longer want to invest in a team that isn’t actually on the road to winning anything? We’ve been going who knows where for weeks. Totally off course. I have no idea why we’re even here. And if the sponsor starts asking questions, they’ll want answers. Answers we can’t give. It’s not about the boat--it’s about what is going to happen when we are out of jobs.”

  “You really think they’ll drop us?” Crew asks.

  I snort. “You think they’ll just keep paying us to crash boats and go wildly off course? Where’s your head, man? Of course, they will.”

  That seems to knock some sense into him because he presses a hand to his forehead. “Fuck. I can’t lose this gig.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “Now you see why I was so pissed at you for not helping with the fucking mast?”

  “Okay, we get it,” Kai says, cutting me off. “But I still don’t understand how we got so off course in the first place.”

  “It was her,” Eric says. “She was the reason for us losing our bearings, the reason we came to this spot, the reason the storm raged.”

  “How do you know that?” Kai asks, jutting out his chin. “One woman doing all that?”

  “She wasn’t just a woman though, was she?” I say.

  Our eyes meet to acknowledge the truth.

  She wasn’t.

  We must find her; otherwise what kind of storm are we going to be caught in next?

  Chapter 12

  Harlow

  After telling Chloe everything, she basically stares at me like I’m Medusa.

  “Say something,” I urge. We’re lying on my bed in the basement and instead of talking, she reaches for my hand and presses it to her belly.

  “She’s kicking,” Chloe says softly.

  “That’s a miracle,” I say. “But--”

  “No buts,” Chloe says, sitting up. “My point is, whatever happened to you is a miracle too.”

  “Okay, you realize how crazy that sounds? Losing my virginity isn’t a miracle.”

  “Sure, having sex with four hunky sailors isn’t a miracle. But swimming for miles, breathing underwater, talking to a shape-shifting seal? Harlow, that’s basically the definition of miracle.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed. “You’re right. It is. But, Chloe, why me?”

  “Why not?”

  “Shouldn’t you be freaking out right now, calling your BFF a liar? Why do you even believe this insane story?”

  She twists her lips. “Take off your sweats.”

  “What?” I scowl.

  “I mean it. I want to see your legs. You said they sparkled. If your story is true, they should still be all glittery.”

  I stand from the bed, suddenly scared that I made it all up. That when I take off my sweats my legs will be nothing but sun-kissed.

  Which would mean I am crazy.

  I undo the knot on the tee-shirt, so the hem hits me mid-thigh. Then slip off my pants.

  Chloe gasps. “Holy shit.”

  I look down. My legs shimmer, all the way from my toes to my-- I turn from Harlow and open my dresser drawer, pulling out a pair of panties, and putting them on. Then I lift my shirt to my belly button.

  “Your tattoo,” Chloe whispers. “It’s ...”

  “I know.” We both stare at it, the golden outline, the green shading, it doesn’t look like a tattoo anymore. It looks like a glowing brand on my leg.

  “Does it hurt?”

  I shake my head. “No, but I don’t understand what’s happening.” I sit on my bed, finally letting my emotions free. Sobs wrack my body and I try to calm down, but I can’t. Beside me, Chloe runs her hand in a circle on my back.

  “Shhh, sweetie. It’s okay. Whatever you are... Whatever this is...you are still you.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t you see? I’ve never known who I am. And now it’s more confusing than ever.” I sniffle a cry, wiping my eyes.

  She shakes her head. “Harlow, before I met the fathers of my child, I didn’t understand who I was either. I spent my life ashamed of my past, embarrassed by my story. I know you carry the pain of being abandoned as a baby, but I understand because that happened to me, too.”

  I nod, knowi
ng Chloe was in foster care for most of her life.

  “And the thing is, Harlow, I’m not scared of you, or for you. I’m happy more than anything, that you’re finally getting answers.”

  I snort. “Answers? Chloe, I’m further from answers than I’ve ever been.”

  “That’s just not true,” she says. “Look at you, you’re changing--literally. It might not be the answer you expected, but this is happening for a reason. You can’t hide from that now just because this part is scary.”

  I shake my head, incredulous. “You think I should just go back to the ocean and swim until I find some magical form of clarity?”

  Chloe sighs. “I think things happen for a reason. Maybe relax and trust that everything will work out perfectly.”

  “Perfectly?” I roll my eyes. “I know you have the picture-perfect life, Chloe, but I think you’ve lost your footing in reality.”

  Instead of pushing back in offense, she just smiles. “You’re wrong. Perfectly might not mean what you think perfect is but this will all play out how it is supposed to.”

  “And you just trust in that, impossible as it sounds?”

  “What’s the alternative?” Chloe smiles, placing her palms on her belly. “Stressing out constantly? Worry and second guess everything? That’s no way to live.”

  I exhale, staring at my legs. “So, what’s next?”

  Chloe shakes her head and laughs. “You’re the one who wants to be more badass. I’m not giving you any answers.”

  “Fair enough.” I stand from my bed and look in my full-length mirror. “I really need a shower.”

  “Yep. And we have a dinner date, remember?”

  I nod. “Has to be early because I have a sunset cruise at seven.”

  “Okay, then go shower, and let’s rally at five at the Maui Brewery, okay?”

  “Sounds good.” I give her a smile. “And maybe I’ll wear a maxi dress to cover this leg situation.”

  I swallow, I may be able to make it sound light-hearted, but deep down it isn’t. The whirlpool was real. The dolphins singing to me was real. All of it was.