by KB Benson
The moon casts a strange shadow across Iris’ face, her dark hair brushing the edge of her cheek, flushed with blood. “He would never.”
“But you’re his daughter, Iris. I’m sure he’d make an except—”
“I’m a traitor, Jace.” Iris says. She sits up—not without a great deal of effort—and pulls her hair over her shoulder. Her tattoo stands out stark against her pale skin. “I’m not his daughter anymore, and I wouldn’t want to be even if he allowed me back into his presence. Damion definitely could heal me, but that kind of power is not in him. His power to do good disappeared a long time ago.”
“What if we try to speak with him? Who knows, maybe he’d make an exception. We won’t know unless we try.”
Silence grows between us, for a moment. Iris’ eyes widen and she perks up as though a lightbulb flicks on in her head. She reaches for her locket and stares at it for a moment.
“Jace, please stay out of it. Damion will never just heal me… but I may have a way he’ll save me and give you your life back.”
“Really? How?”
Iris sighs. “Promise me if I tell you, you’ll stay out of it?”
“Cross my heart.”
“I’m serious, Jace. Damion is evil. This isn’t your typical serial killer, mass murderer evil—that’s child’s play to him. The massacre you witnessed on shore the other day was only a small wisp of what he is capable of doing. Damion will go to great lengths to get what he wants, and I have no idea what that even is.”
“Okay. I promise. What’s your plan?”
“This locket—I’m going to trade it for your life.”
“You can’t give Damion that—it’s from your mom.”
“I know.” Iris pulls the locket from her neck. “I think that’s exactly why he’ll want it.”
“Are you sure? If he let her die, why would he care?”
“I don’t know. When Mother was killed, Damion scoured the ocean for this; but he could never find it. He didn’t know she’d given it to me. And she made me promise to do anything to keep it out of his hands. If I offer him this treasure, I’m sure he’ll make any deal.”
“He could save you.”
Iris nods. “Saving and healing are very different things, but I think he might just do both.”
“That sounds like the best plan we’ve got. How do we contact him?”
Iris hesitates. “I’ll do it later. I just need a little more... time.”
I pat my shoulder again; and Iris lies down on the sand, her body sharply pressing into the side of mine. Even through her clothing, the angular shape of her hip bone pierces into mine, the skin evaporating slowly from her body.
“Jace,” she whispers as she stares at the night sky, “Thank you for believing in me to be one of the ‘beautiful things grown in the dark’.”
As Iris drifts off again, her body withering away even further, I make up my mind. If she’s not strong enough to make the deal with Damion, then I’ll have to do it in her behalf.
I don’t dare wait to ask her how one would go about meeting with the leader of her clan. I already know she’d never tell me. My mind wanders through Demonas’ lectures on sirens, but I only remember fragments:
A siren tows her prey to the bottom of the ocean into the feeding grounds where the clan harvests the victim. A siren is capable of siphoning oxygen from the water surrounding them giving them a never-ending supply…
I mentally kick myself for focusing more on Iris during class than on the lesson. Well, at the least, I know one thing: the sirens want me. And I’m sure they’ll do anything to make that happen.
From what I assume, to meet Damion I need to trespass into his territory and give myself up to the ocean. I’m guessing another siren will capture me to deliver me to the clan like Asthen tried to do months ago. If I survive the journey through the ocean, then I might be able to convince Damion to accept the locket in place of mine and Iris’ lives.
Iris snuggles deeper into my side. I hope she’s comfortable, but I know that can’t be true; her form is rigid and thin. As I stare at her face—beautiful even while blanketed by death—I wonder why I’m willing to do this. The answer is simple and comes immediately. The more I learn about Iris, the more I realize I’ve loved her—the real Iris—all along. It doesn’t matter what species she is. There is something pure about her even with her dark past.
Holding my breath, I gently slide my arm out from under Iris’ head just as the moon peeks around a cloud. Her body doesn’t even jostle. If I couldn’t see her nostrils flare with small intakes of air, I’d think she didn’t make it. That she was dead.
But she is already dead. Isn’t that true? She’s only getting closer to that inevitable end.
Iris will die…
… unless I save her.
Chapter 36
JACE
Iris’ eyelashes barely flutter as her head lolls to the side, coming to a rest on a pile of her hair. That’s the most movement I’ve seen from her in hours. I brush my fingers across the dry, worn skin barely clinging to her sallow cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper. “You’ll be better soon. I promise.” I gently tug the locket from around her neck and face the ocean. A gust of wind sprays salt over my face as though the ocean is waiting for me. Maybe it is.
I’m not sure how this whole thing works—I know I won’t be killed on the spot… I hope. When I’m captured, the creature will hopefully tow me to the clan for feasting. If I make it to the bottom of the ocean without passing out or drowning, who’s to say I’ll even be able to defend myself? After all, I don’t know of any humans that can breathe underwater.
For a moment I wonder if Iris is right. I could turn around and wait for her to get better. To handle this on her own. Nobody would ever know I chickened out. I glance at Iris’s still body, a divot forms at her side where I used to lie. I can’t let her die like this, not without trying.
I turn back to the ocean and force myself to march across the sand. I don’t give in to any of the rational thoughts streaming through my brain, trying to make me rethink my decision. The natural instinct to survive is strong, but I don’t pay it any attention. Before I realize how far I’ve marched, a cool, refreshing calm brushes over my feet. I feel exactly what Iris had described to me about the ocean. I forget why it’s dangerous, why a part of my brain is frantically scrambling for an escape back onto the shore. There’s nothing I want on shore, everything I could ever need is right here in the ocean. It tells me so and it’s right.
I wade farther into the water, the waves crashing against my legs. For a moment it’s difficult to pull myself over them as they break. Irritated with the obstacle, I slap at the water and dive to avoid the force of the water’s surface that drives me back. My hands brush the floor and I pull myself along underneath the waves. When I resurface, I’ve swam past where the waves break; and so I push myself onto my back and float.
The water gently carries me back and forth, lightly splashing onto my face as I stare at the stars. It’s easier out here to let myself drift off into the open water. It feels right, like that’s what the ocean wants. And the ocean’s always right. I lie facing the stars for a long time, a pinprick of cold seeping into my bones. I brush it away. No need to focus on the uncomfortable out here where it is so relaxing and peaceful.
I close my eyes, the water pushing me up and over its swells like a boat. That’s nice. I can just forget—no homework out here, no parents fighting, no girls, no school, no Iris. A spark of recognition triggers in my brain at the thought of Iris, but I can’t quite pull what that thought is. I say her name in my head again, Iris. Another spark fires and I an image of her sweeping dark hair fills my mind. I know her. She’s important for some reason.
I don’t want to think. I was so relaxed just floating out here in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere. Why am I in the middle of nowhere? It doesn’t really matter, I like being here. But it’s odd, isn’t it? I’m never just in the middle of nowhere.
Iris, I
think again. This time her entire face fills my mind and for a split second I remember. I grab onto the thought as soon as it pops into my head. I’m not here to relax; the ocean is not a comforting place as it persuades me to believe. It’s deceptive, it’s tricky, but it won’t make me forget my purpose in coming out here.
I grip Iris’ locket tighter in my fist and flip off my back, my legs treading the water. A shudder ripples through my spine. The sinister creatures of Iris’ clan likely float just below the surface of the water and could attack at any moment. I pay attention for the brush of a tail against my legs or the tickle of a claw, but I don’t feel anything.
I wait for what feels like hours—but is probably only minutes—afraid some creature will appear, even more afraid they won’t. I’m not sure I’d have the courage to try this again. Soon I debate swimming back to the shore and giving up for the night. My legs beat tiredly to keep my head above the water, as the cold seeps deep into my bones. When I finally resign to head back to shore, that’s when I feel it—the scales scratching along my calf. My whole body freezes. They were playing with me, testing how long I’d wait.
The scales brush along the back of my thighs and another set touch my feet. I hold my body as still as possible, unflinching from the inevitable outcome of the decision I’ve made. Just as I knew it would, a thick mass wraps tightly around my ankle and yanks me under the waves.
Blood pulses through my veins, my heart beating in my fingertips, my arms, my neck. Despite making this decision, my mind scrambles for a way out of it. My throat burns. I didn’t have enough time to gulp down a last breath. If I was worried about whether or not I’d be able to hold my breath before, I’m screwed now. I blink the seawater away from my eyes and squint to make out any form or shape.
The dark, blurry figure of my captor comes into view: flowing hair, womanly figure—obviously Damion would send a female siren to capture me. I focus on her and the ocean around me instead of the fire filling my lungs like molten lava.
In the distance, coral banks jut out in odd formations, and the siren pulls me low between a few of them. If I stretched my fingers out enough, I could touch the rough surfaces—I do. My fingers trail along the tips of anemone, a slight shock tickling them. Brightly-colored fish swim in and out of their homes, paying no attention to me as I sail by.
The ocean grows darker the deeper we travel. Soon it won’t matter whether or not I stay conscious; I won’t be able to see anyway. Within seconds the molten lava bursts into flame and my lungs expand and collapse against nothing, heaving for any oxygen left in my body. I know it won’t find any.
Would I rather suffocate or drown? I remember answering this question as a joke among friends when I was a kid, but now I can’t remember what I’d chosen. Here on the brink of death it’s obvious I’ll have to choose one of the two. I swear my lungs are shriveling against themselves. This is it. I close my eyes to wait. It won’t be long now.
A soft, solid pressure pushes against my lips separating them a fraction of an inch. Panic floods my chest as I wait for water to fill my empty lungs. But instead of water, oxygen expands them. The expansion is painful in and of itself so the moment it fills my lungs, I exhale it back out, bubbles tickling my face as they float to the surface. The soft pressure touches my lips again and more oxygen expands my chest. This time I hold it in. A treasure. A blessing. A miracle. I open my eyes to two stunning, sparkling green ones staring back at me. For a moment I think Iris has saved me until the backdrop around the temptress fills with bright red hair: Asthen.
Iris’ sister has come to collect me again, but this time she doesn’t seem bent on killing me. Instead, she’s saving my life. I don’t dare question why in case she changes her mind. For now, it only matters I will live for a little longer. I might actually have a chance to meet Damion and convince him to save Iris.
Asthen turns away and continues her descent deeper into the ocean, my body in tow. Every few meters or so she turns and presses her lips against mine, refilling my lungs. Each time she pulls away from me again, I worry it will be the last time she turns to help me.
I’m not sure how long this goes on, although Asthen becomes more and more comfortable putting her lips on mine—a few times her tongue trailing the edges of my lips like a serpent. She pulls away from me with cocky pride on her face. She knows there’s nothing I can do about it and that Iris would be pissed.
Asthen drags me through an outcropping of boulders which smash into my shoulders as we swim by. And then her grip on my ankle loosens and releases. My air-filled lungs automatically buoy me up and habitually my legs kick me in that same direction. I’m not sure why I swim in search of a surface; Asthen dragged me so far under there’s not really anywhere for me to go. If anything, I’m more nervous she released me. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I swim upwards until my head suddenly breaks through the surface of the water. I gasp in stagnant air over and over again.
I’m not dead. Relief surges through my mind.
Darkness surrounds me in every direction. I can’t even see my own hand in front of my face. Reaching my arms in front of me, I swim forward—nothing but open space. I turn around, or at least I think I do, and swim in that direction. After a few minutes, a foggy glow appears in the distance. I don’t think twice about pulling myself through the water closer to the light.
I stop swimming only when I float in the center of its bright ring. Above me, a narrow beam of light shines through the rock ceiling, a small trickle of water pouring in from the hole. The dim light exposes the ceiling high above my head and the arching walls surrounding me. I float in some type of cavern. Claustrophobia constricts my lungs—on my own, I have no way out. The thought alone makes the room close in around me.
I suck in a few calming breaths. It doesn’t matter that I’m slowly suffocating in this sealed room; I’m alive for now, and I have a job to do. I float, waiting for whatever decision the clan is making below the water. Asthen would not bring me all the way down here alive if she had not been ordered to by Damion. And she would not be saving my life right now with this pocket of air unless Damion wanted to meet with me, too.
As I wait for the consensus, a scaly tail slides past my legs. Its sharp edges dig into my flesh. My legs sting as the seawater rushes into the scrapes. I jerk away from the tail only to feel another slide across my back and wrap around my stomach. The scales tear at my clothing, and create more lesions across my skin.
What game are they playing?
The tails disappear. In their place are hands. Dozens of them. Like shackles thrown across my body, the sirens claw at my legs, my waist, my chest. They find a hold and they keep me steady. I thrash against their restraint, but it does nothing.
And then the soft pressure of lips dab against my legs where the stinging sensations had been only moments earlier. Lips press against my back through the tears in my shirt. Hands pull my shirt upward while sirens force their heads toward my stomach and chest, lips everywhere tasting my blood. The hands are greedy as they each push and pull me in a different direction, each siren trying to get her taste. Their bodies come in close for a sip and then speed away as another takes a turn.
Pushing their heads away from me, I kick backward in an attempt to escape. It’s one thing if I drown, but I refuse to be a play thing while they drink my blood. But no matter how many heads I push back, no matter how many bodies I pull myself away from, there are more hands, more heads, more tails and the water vibrates with the excitement of a new feast.
My heart drops as I realize that’s what I am, just a feast. Is this how they eat all their prey when brought one at a time? Maybe Asthen never had any intention of allowing me to see Damion. Maybe she didn’t know. I’d figured if the sirens could communicate through the ocean, then the ocean would help me communicate with them.
I shove another siren’s head away from me, her long dark hair spreading like a web across the top of the water. With long strokes, I swim backward. Instead of freedom,
though, I plow into another siren whose open arms are waiting for me. Over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of her face just before her hands lock around my wrist: stringy jet black hair running down her pointed features; sharp, knife-like teeth glistening in the low light; pale skin glowing eerily; pupils the size of quarters. The siren’s hands are like iron clad cuffs chained around my wrists, stretching my arms out in opposite directions.
“Let go,” I grunt, tugging my arms with no success. The brim of another siren’s head skims along the surface of the water toward me, no doubt others trailing behind her. Pulling my legs into my chest, I shove them out in front of me into the siren’s face as hard as I can. “Stop!” I shout.
The siren dives deep under the water, but I know I haven’t really scared her away. More heads skim along the water’s surface heading for me from all directions. The siren holding my arms transfers both of my wrists into one of her hands, but the lock she has on them doesn’t weaken. With her free hand she drags her pinky nail down my side from armpit to hip. I gasp in pain as the razorblade slices through the first few layers of skin, blood pooling into the water around me. The sirens increase their speed, attracted to the scent of my blood.
“Let go!” I shout again as the tickle of serpent tongues trace the cut. “I’m here to speak with Damion!”
With an audible hiss, every siren scatters and drops beneath the water. I splash into the blackened pool as the siren restraining me disappears with the rest of them. My fingers graze my injured side, ridges of skin framing the cut. It doesn’t feel too deep, but even if it was, there’s not much I can do now. I press my wet t-shirt against my side, hoping it might help stunt the bleeding.
I wait in silence for a few minutes—the water calm and still again. But I know I’m not alone. In the moment I don’t care if I drown or suffocate as long as I am not eaten alive.
My legs burn with exhaustion from treading water when suddenly a deep rumble rolls through the ocean, growing louder from beneath my feet. The water trembles as the vibrations grow stronger. It churns around me and, as though someone lit dynamite just below the surface, it explodes. I shield my face as water drenches the entire cavern like a waterfall. As the downpour recedes into a mist, I see him: Damion.