Siren's Call (Dark Seas)

by Debbie Herbert

  Horror and revulsion hit him with the frigid shock of an ice bath. Its chill numbed and then burned along his nerve endings.

  “You love me, too,” she insisted, stumbling and almost falling into the water. She righted herself and surged forward. “You come to me every night in my dreams and tell me so.”

  Before he could realize her intention, Opal lunged forward and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms about his waist and sobbing into his bare chest. He smelled the sweat of her desperation.

  Nash stepped backward and grabbed her forearms, peeling her off his body. She was surprisingly strong, clinging like a leech sucking blood.

  She stared at him, imploring. “Make love to me like you do when you come to me in dreams. This was supposed to be our time. None of the others ever loved you the way I do. Can’t you see that?”

  All he could see was what a fool he’d been. The face of his friendly, slightly homely, competent assistant and friend was erased forever. It was as if in the past he’d viewed Opal through a diffused camera filter that had cast a haze on the truth. Now that the filter was removed he could read the sharp longing in her eyes and the clear gleam of delusion that twisted her lips and face.

  It was diametrically opposed to the revelation of the real Lily. Lily’s true nature made her appear even more beautiful, more vulnerable, more sweet. The crows had recognized her dual human/mermaid nature and communicated that Lily was his true destiny. Too bad the birds couldn’t detect evil in humans.

  “You’re delusional,” he told Opal curtly. “The cops are on the way. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison or locked up in another psychiatric hospital. Until they arrive, all I want to hear from you is what you gave Lily.”

  Her eyes flashed in an instant, igniting to fury. “Lily, Lily, Lily!” she screamed, writhing, breaking one hand free from his grasp. “What about me, Nash?”

  Opal beat her chest so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if a rib cracked. He released her other arm and stepped back.

  “You’re supposed to love me. Me! Everything I did, I did for you.” She gouged her face and neck with her fingernails, leaving a track of blood as savage as if she’d been mauled by a bobcat.

  After all the years he’d thought of Opal as a friend, a competent assistant and talented photographer in her own right, after all that time—he’d never really known her. Never suspected the torment and savagery hidden underneath the sunny, calm exterior.

  She twisted her face to one side and lifted her chin. “It’s because of this, isn’t it?” She jabbed an index finger into the slight scar that ran from ear to mouth. “You think I’m hideous. Not worthy.”

  Nash gritted his teeth, impatient with Opal’s ranting. He lunged toward her and snatched her right arm above the elbow. “Tell me the drug you gave Lily or, so help me, I’ll beat it out of you.”

  She threw her head back, bursting into maniacal laughter. “Go ahead. Do it. I’d rather be hit than ignored.”

  Nash pushed her away in disgust. The woman was hopeless.

  A reed-thin voice spoke from behind. “Angel’s trumpet,” Lily said. She stood, swaying slightly. “A hallucinogenic she slipped in my drink.”

  Nash rushed to Lily’s side and put an arm around her waist to prevent a fall. Lily leaned into him. “I’m better,” she whispered. “It’s starting to wear off.”

  He held on to her tightly, grateful she was in his arms again and appeared stronger. Another minute and he would have been too late. He shuddered and Lily weakly ran her hands down his back, reversing their roles and acting as comforter, strengthening his mind and spirit.

  A scream pierced the air and they broke apart.

  Opal’s hands were clasped against her ears, eyes and mouth widened in pain. “No, no, no!” she shrieked, as if the sight of he and Lily together was driving her crazy.

  She stumbled back to the canoe, which had drifted a few yards out, and awkwardly heaved herself on board.

  “Surely she doesn’t think she can escape to sea on that thing,” he muttered as the sound of a large motorboat approached in the far distance. About time. Lily needed medical attention.

  Opal jerked her head in the direction of the sound and then stood unsteadily on the canoe, facing him from a good fifteen yards out. She continued staring at him as her hands reached into the shoulder bag slung across her body and scrambled through it.

  A gun? Nash moved in front of Lily, shielding her from danger.

  Opal extracted two thin glass vials. She quickly unstopped the lids and swallowed the contents in two gulps.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Nash yelled, instinctively moving toward her.

  “Drinking the last of the angel’s trumpet and poisonous juice from white baneberry. That should do the trick.” Her voice was flat and her eyes vacant.

  “For God’s sake, Opal.” He couldn’t help feeling sorrow for her—for the friend he’d thought she’d been.

  “My life is nothing without you,” she continued in the same matter-of-fact monotone. “I’d rather die than see you—” Opal bent over, clutching her chest “—with another woman.”

  Nash ran until the water hit midthigh, and then he started to swim.

  Opal turned her back on him and dove under.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Lily, who motioned him to go on. “I’m fine,” she called. “Get her.”

  Undersea again, Nash’s eyes adjusted. The Okwa Nahollo were gone, but he had no trouble spotting Opal’s pale, thrashing legs and arms, her mass of red hair swirling in the current like spilled blood. He made his way over and grabbed an arm, pulling her toward the surface.

  She fought him. Resisted with a panicked fury that might not understand he was trying to save her life. Nash placed his face within a foot of Opal’s—hoping she would recognize him and cease struggling.

  Her eyes were wide-open, bulging and bloodshot. Nash pointed up, gesturing he wanted to pull her to air.

  Opal flailed her arms and legs, still fighting him off.

  To hell with trying to communicate. Nash grabbed underneath her arms and swam up, Opal twisting like a snake in his grasp. When he reached the canoe, Nash flung himself inside, one hand still firmly gripping Opal’s ankle. Her body went limp and he pulled her into the boat, muscles heaving with the dead weight. She lay facedown and he turned her over. Opal’s eyes stared unblinking into the sun overhead.

  Dead.

  Nash attempted to save her as he had Lily, but whatever concoction had been in those vials Opal had swallowed had swiftly done its work.

  His enemy had been found and silenced, but Nash took no pleasure in it. So many people had been hurt over the years. If only he’d realized sooner what was happening right beneath his nose. He never once suspected Opal was mentally ill and that he was the focus of her obsession. She’d befriended his past girlfriends and claimed to have a secret lover, a married man. And all this time he and the police had looked for suspects among women he had dated and rejected. What a tortured, miserable life she must have secretly lived.

  The roar of the motorboat was upon them.

  He stared at the stranger who’d claimed to love him. Opal’s top had wedged under her armpits, exposing her freckled chest and plain, white bra with a safety pin attaching a broken strap on one side. Nash pulled down the T-shirt to cover her. “I hope you are finally at peace,” he whispered before standing.

  He waved his arms, shouting in the wind, “Over here.”

  * * *

  Chills racked her body in waves and the sound of the men grew fainter as they shouted commands and lifted Opal’s limp body onto their boat. The roaring in her head drowned out everything and her peripheral vision narrowed. Must sit down. Lily sank onto the sand and shivered. The sun held no warmth and its light faded, leaving nothing but pinpoints of light and dark s
pecks. Where was Nash? She needed him to hold her, to share his body heat and reassurances everything was all right.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was as if her body had roused itself only long enough to see that Nash had survived and Opal had been captured. Now it was spent and she was so cold, so tired. Her body was betraying her again, as it had done undersea when it was unable to shape-shift. She closed her eyes against the spinning landscape that made her stomach rumble with nausea.

  Blessed heat bore down on her shoulders. Someone had placed a blanket on her. She huddled into it and opened her eyes to a blur of people—brown uniforms with silver star-shaped badges and men dressed all in blue with stethoscopes dangling from their necks.

  “Lily, can you hear me?”

  Nash squatted in front of her. His face was so intent and drawn it made her want to cry.

  “I’m here,’ she said, realizing as she spoke that her throat was still parched and burning.

  A man in blue crowded him to the side and put a blood-pressure cuff on her sleeve. He listened intently to her heart rate and nodded. “Steady, but weak. Let’s get her to the hospital.”

  No! “No hospital,” she rasped.

  Tillman dropped to a knee and waved the medic away. “Lily, you have to go.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “It’s okay. Nash told us about the angel’s trumpet. They’ll do a chest X-ray to make sure there’s no fluid remaining, and then pump your stomach in case any of the drug remains. I promise I won’t let them draw blood or run other tests.”

  A strong hand engulfed hers and squeezed. She knew it was Nash without even looking.

  “I’ll be with you every minute,” Nash vowed.

  Lily nodded and closed her eyes again as he scooped her into his arms and lifted her. His warm breath whispered in her ear.

  “Chi hollo li.”

  She had no idea what the words meant, but it washed her soul in immediate solace.

  Chapter 20

  Sunbeams lit every shadow in the bayou and sparkled atop the calm Gulf waters, inviting folks in Bayou La Siryna to luxuriate in the fine summer afternoon.

  Weather not at all fitting for a funeral. Lily closed her eyes against the sun’s determined brightness as she stood by the cottage window. It was the second funeral in as many days, although the first should more properly be called a burial instead, because no one had come to mourn Opal Wallace. A plain wooden casket and a tiny stone marker in the county pauper’s cemetery were all that marked her life’s end.

  But Samuel Chula Bowman’s service had filled the funeral home. All morning, lines had formed around the building with people coming to pay their respects. Lily had never suspected that the quiet man who’d lived so far in the backwoods was this universally well-known and loved.

  A sudden tingling crept up the nape of her neck. Someone was watching her. Lily turned from the window and caught Nash staring at her from across the room, brows drawn in concern.

  He shouldn’t have to worry about her when this day was so difficult for him. Lily forced a smile and circulated among the few guests that remained at Sam’s cottage, picking up empty paper plates and refreshing drinks as needed. It seemed like it should be late evening instead of late afternoon, and she was weary. The fatigue from the angel’s trumpet had eased but hadn’t entirely gone away, even after a week had passed.

  She’d been pronounced fit at the hospital after getting her stomach pumped and spending a few hours hooked to an IV that replenished her body with fluids and vitamins to treat dehydration. Nash had been busy arranging his grandfather’s burial, so she’d returned to her own home every night. Mom had at once moved back in with her to play nurse. The attention had been nice—for the first few days.

  But lately her mom’s nervous gaze and hovering left Lily feeling smothered. Jet and Shelly weren’t much better. They visited daily and the three women huddled together often, speaking in hushed tones. If she ventured too close, they stopped talking and studied her quizzically.

  Finally, the remaining guests took their leave.

  Lily gathered up the last of the dishes and took them to the kitchen sink. As she rinsed and placed them in the dishwasher, she kept glancing out the window, eyes drawn to the small patch of blue on the horizon. A deep sigh escaped. Although she had twice ventured into the sea this past week with her family, her mermaid fishtail hadn’t emerged.

  Lily feared it never would.

  “You’ve been working too hard,” Nash scolded, nuzzling his lips by her ears. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and she leaned into his warm strength. “Why don’t you lie down for a nap and I’ll finish up here?”

  Lily sighed again. She was so sick of being sick. Sick of taking naps, sick of worrying. But even worse, now that the funeral was over, how much longer would Nash continue to stay in Bayou La Siryna? They hadn’t addressed anything in the past week. The little strength she’d had, Lily had spent giving police statements or helping Nash with funeral arrangements.

  “Hey, you.” Nash guided her body around so that she faced him. “Why the long sighs?”

  “Sorry. Don’t pay attention to me. You’re the one having a tough day. I know how much you loved Sam.”

  “I miss him, but he lived a long time and was prepared for death. At least, as much as anyone can be.” Nash’s voice was grave but controlled.

  “I never knew his middle name was Chula. Is it a Choctaw name?”

  He nodded. “It means fox. Fit my grandfather perfectly. He was wise, shrewd and concerned with family.”

  “Just as Nashoba fits you. Like the wolf, you’re my protector. If you hadn’t come when you did...” Lily shuddered.

  His face tightened. “I can’t stand to think about what might have been. If I had been a second later—”

  “About that,” Lily cut in. “How did you appear out of nowhere? I know the story you gave Tillman and Landry about a friend loaning you a large commercial vessel. Must have been a ghost ship, because no one saw it.”

  “Lucky for me, the local sheriff’s department is run by your BILs,” he joked. “So convenient.”

  She didn’t smile. “I may not be on my game lately, but I’ve noticed you won’t give me a straight answer whenever I ask you questions about that day.”

  A guarded expression darkened his green eyes. “What do you remember?”

  “Lots of my memory is hazy. The doctors say that’s not an unusual side effect from a hallucinogenic drug. I clearly remember losing my cell phone and pouring sangria for me and Opal. After that—” She paused, struggling to bring events into focus. “I only remember a few details, like stumbling through the woods and hearing a children’s song. I remember being frightened and Opal’s face above me when I was underwater. Then there was pain, and when I woke up I was lying in the sand and you were with me.”

  “Anything else?”

  Lily rubbed her temples, trying to grasp wisps of broken details. But it was like trying to remember a dream after awakening. A snatch of memory floated through her mind like a cloud being swept away by the wind, yet a tiny trace remained... “Wait. There is something else. I was being pulled through the water and you were holding me. But—oh, this will sound crazy—”

  “Don’t say that. You’re not crazy. Go on,” he urged.

  She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “Okay, here goes. I thought I saw white shapes all around us, like undersea ghosts. Only I wasn’t scared, their presence felt comforting. I sensed...they were helping us.”

  Lily waited for him to laugh, to tell her the ghosts were merely part of a drug-induced fugue. But his face was set, eyes hard as agate. “Nash?” She touched his chest. “What is it?”

  He looked past her and stared out the window. He didn’t want to tell her what had happened on the island. But why
? It made no sense. “What are you hiding? Tell me.”

  “I can’t.” His voice was clipped, and he avoided her eyes.

  Hurt burned at the back of her throat. “You can trust me,” she said quietly.

  Nash stuffed his hands in his dress slacks and faced her. “Damn it, Lily. It’s not a matter of trusting you. I took an oath of silence and I won’t break my word. Don’t ask it of me.”

  “An oath to whom?” She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  He stood immobile and unyielding and silent.

  The divide between them was sudden and absolute. For the first time, Lily truly understood how keeping secrets had the potential to destroy faith and love between a man and woman. Nash must have felt this way when she wouldn’t tell him her true nature. Yet he hadn’t abandoned her even when he’d come face-to-face with her lies the night she’d shape-shifted from land to sea, unaware he waited for her.

  Lily slowly stretched out a hand over the gaping chasm between them. “Okay,” she whispered.

  His eyes softened with hope and the tight muscles in his shoulders relaxed. “Okay? You can live with my silence on the matter?”

  “Without you, I would have no life.”

  He crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat and she was in his arms. His fierce strength was more precious to her than ever before. He kissed her and she melted into his fire, giving and taking and yet needing more, needing all of him, heart and soul and body. Nash groaned into her mouth and she pressed her hips into his arousal.

  “My sweet Lily,” he murmured, running hot kisses down her neck and the hollow of her throat.

  His hands cupped her breasts and she moaned. It seemed like forever since they’d made love. “I’ve missed you,” she said breathlessly. “Missed this.”

  Nash leaned down and rested his forehead on hers, his breath hot and sweet against her face. His heart thumped wildly beneath the hand she rested on his broad chest.

  “God, I’ve missed you, too.” His voice was husky and raw. “But are you sure you’re up for this? You’ve been so sick—”