Bluff
I don’t know what’s going on in her head now. Part of me doesn’t want to know. The dagger she shoved into my chest is still there; every movement, every shift, every word, digs it deeper.
I rest my head on the cold, stone ground and attempt to sleep. Attempt being the key word. Instead, I spend the last few hours before sunrise running a million things through my mind. I replay our dance—every look, every touch, every sound. I analyze every moment. Was she only a siren then? Or was she Whitley? Did she connect with me, or just another siren she was attracted to?
I consider all of the information I have. What my mother wants. What Stede wants. What Mr. Robinson wants. The prophecy.
Daughter of the scheming land-lover
A man so bold as to betray a pirate
A beauty of golden hair and secret of low birth
Will control the Son of the Sea, cause him to fall
She alone holds the power to enslave him
Control him, even to his death.
There’s more to it, I’m sure of it. Prophecies are tricky things. They are inevitable, as I’ve found, but they’re open ended. Vague. They could mean a million different things.
Whitley has the power to control me to my death. But will she?
As a siren, yes. Because she won’t have control over her own self. My mother will. The Siren Queen is the master of her clan. Right now Whitley is only mostly siren. She’s able to fight the control only so long as she keeps a hold of her humanity.
If she loses it altogether, she’ll be as good as a mindless slave to the siren queen. A slave with the power to enslave another.
I take long, deep breaths.
And there very well may be more to the prophecy than was given. Or more context I’m missing. The “why?” is still a huge question in my mind.
Why does Whitley have power over me? Why does she have this power to start with? She’s more than a siren, her powers prove that much. She’s something else altogether.
If I ever make it back onto the sea, that’s the first thing I’ll do—track down the sea witch and force her to tell me everything she knows. There has to be a missing to key to all of this.
Then again, even just that seems such a long way off. Even if we escape our current prison. If Whitley doesn’t trust me, doesn’t believe me, doesn’t know me— how does any of this even matter? The sirens are closing in. If we aren’t together, our hope of evading them is gone forever.
She looked me in the eye and made a choice.
She left me behind.
I clench my jaw to hold back a groan of frustration.
I turn onto my other side, just enough to be able to see her. Laying on her stomach, hair half covering her face. I remember the first time I saw her. The first time I danced with her. The first time I fell in love with her.
This Whitley is so different from that girl. So much wilder. So much harsher. It’s not entirely bad, it’s just... I want my Whitley back. For the first time since the day I learned she evaded the sirens, I doubt whether or not I’ll ever get her back.
The orange light of rising sun peaks through the small window at the top of the wall.
“Whitley?” I whisper, my eyes heavy, limbs stiff.
“Yes?” she says immediately, with a gravelly voice, I suppose she hasn’t slept either.
“Do you remember anything about me?” I close my eyes, bracing for the answer I already know.
“No,” she says. “Not really.”
I press my eyes tighter. “Listen,” I say, forcing the words from my unwilling throat. I want to curl up in a ball and hide. But I won’t. I can’t give up no matter how much it hurts. “There’s only one way we can beat them,” I tell her.
She lifts her head. “Who?”
“The sirens,” I spit. But there’s silence between us, and I realize for the first time, perhaps she doesn’t want to defeat them. But—she’s been running from them. Something in her must tell her they aren’t friendly.
She doesn’t respond, but her silver eyes search mine.
“You ran from them,” I whisper. “Even though your nature would pull you towards them.” I let the words settle for a moment. “Do you remember why...?”
“Just feelings. I don’t know what they did. But I don’t trust them.”
I swallow.
“Will you tell me? What happened?” Her voice is soft, breaking.
“They took you from me,” I whisper. “Captured you and forced you into this...”
She winces.
“...form,” I finish.
“How?”
“They waited until you were in the water alone. Dragged you under and... well, sort of drowned you in magic until you became like them.”
She sits up, leaning her back against the wall. “Why?”
I take in a breath. It’s a complicated answer. “You have siren blood, a lot of humans do actually, without ever knowing it. But you don’t become one until you’re drowned in the magic. You lose your human self and become entirely siren. They turned you because you have a power they want, and if you’re a siren, they can control you.” I consider telling her that she can physically control me, but fear grips my heart, squeezing. She could force me to do anything. The idea of her having that power over me is...terrifying. I don’t want to be controlled. Not by her, not by the sea, not by my mother. No one.
“Do you want it?”
I pause. “What?”
“Is that why—you want the power too? And why do I have it to start with?” she asks, looking down at her hands. “What makes me so special?”
Breath leaves my chest. “Everything,” I whisper. But then shake my head. “I don’t know. There was a prophecy that pinpointed you as the holder of this power that they wanted, and they’ve been hunting you since. And they almost won.”
“Almost. But didn’t.” She narrows her eyes.
“Together, we were able to fight to get free. A small part of your soul is left intact—but only just—which is why they can’t control you. Yet. You save my life that day.” I smile. “But that was when you still remembered who I was.”
There’s a thick silence between us. She looks down at her hands “You didn’t answer one question,” she says, finally. “Do you want it?”
“No,” I say firmly. “I don’t even want my own.” I pause.
She whips her head towards me.
“I wish it wasn’t true. I wish the prophecy was bullshit. I wish you were still just Whitley, no siren magic, no special power. Just you.”
Her soft eyes meet mine. “Tell me about it.”
I blink. “What?”
“You wish all of the power stuff wasn’t true. So what would we do if it weren’t?”
My lips part slightly as I read her face. She wants the fantasy. To imagine our life in a perfect world.
“Anything you wanted,” I tell her. “We talked about that a little bit, on the island. What we would do if we got free of all of this.”
“And?”
“We’d get our own ship, our own crew, and sail around the world. We’d be free to be together. Free to be whatever we wanted.”
She lays her head back down. Quietly staring at the ceiling for a long while. “Would you make me moan for an hour straight?” she asks with an amused voice. Is she making fun of me?
“Longer,” I say with a rough voice.
She chuckles, and the feeling that fills my chest is life to my soul. I let the moment sit for perhaps longer than I should. Because there is so much more to say. So much more I need her to know before—well, before anything else happens.
Mr. Robinson or his men could be back at any time. But I don’t want this moment to end. Even here, where I can’t touch her, I am happy.
But this moment will be all I have if I don’t say what must be said. So I grit my teeth and I force the words from my lips.
“That’s what I needed to tell you, though,” I say.
She sits up, meeting m
y eye.
“I don’t want your power. Honestly, I don’t. But I need it. I need your power in order to stop them. In order to save the both of us.”
She doesn’t respond. She just stares at me with a serious expression.
“The only way we can beat them, the only way we can stop them from using us for their gain, is by working together. You need to find a way to trust me. It requires both of us to tap into this full power, and that’s the only way we can win.”
She narrows her eyes. She doesn’t trust me. Not yet.
“If they get their hands on you again, they’ll drown you until there is nothing but siren left. Your memories will be gone forever. You won’t know me or Jeb. You won’t even remember to hate Mr. Robinson. And then, the siren queen will be your master. You’ll be her slave.”
Whitley
My stomach clenches, muscles tense. Nausea rolls through me.
He wants me to trust him.
And yet everything he’s said is quite convenient. The only way we win is by being together—isn’t that exactly what he’d say if he wanted to use my power for himself?
But even if what he’s said is true—he loved me once. The image of his disgusted face pops into my mind. The only clear memory I have of him is less than pleasant.
He wants me not to be a siren. He’s disgusted by sirens. They’re the enemy.
Perhaps he loved me once. But now?
Am I the enemy now?
“So what do we do?” I ask, voice hoarse.
“Evade them for as long as we can while we figure the rest out.”
“But we stick together?” That’s the key, right? According to his story. Us together. My stomach twists at the same time as my heart lifts.
“If we can, yes. But it’s most important that you stay as far away from the sirens as possible. So if it comes down to separating in order to keep you away from them, that’s what we must do.”
My lips part.
“That’s the only thing we have going for us now,” he continues. ‘There are pieces of the old Whitley still inside of you. That’s what pulled you here of all places. Don’t lose them.”
I squeeze my hands into fists. I’m not so sure I hate this siren part of me as much as he seems to, but I certainly don’t want to lose the rest of it. I want to remember my hate of Mr. Robinson. I want to remember the full truth about Bluff.
Should I love him? Should I trust him?
“Very well” I whisper.
He looks up at me, meeting my eyes with confusion and hopefulness. “What?”
“Very well, I’ll try to trust you.”
Tension in his face melts away as his lips turn up into a small smile.
BLUFF SPENDS THE NEXT hour telling me stories about our time together. I wish I knew if they were true or not. Some of them vaguely fit into the fragments of memories I’ve shifted through these last few weeks. Like how the first time we met was while he was in prison in Carolina. He tells me about a girl named Rosemera, whose father’s pirate ship took us back to New York, but his story is cut short when footsteps sound on the stairs out in the hall. We both freeze.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
“Find out what he wants first, then improvise,” he whispers, barely audible over the footsteps growing louder.
“Go with anything that keeps you away from the sirens longer. I know you hate him, but men who think they’re getting what they want are much easier to fight. It’s kind of like seducing a man before you kill him. It’s a siren tactic.”
“I thought you hated sirens,” I say, no longer veiling my voice.
He blinks, staring me down, but I don’t return the look.
The door swings wide and three large men in all black enter the room first, followed by Mr. Robinson. “Well if it isn’t the lovely couple!” he exclaims, clasping his hands together. He looks my body up and down. For the first time I wish I’d worn a dress the stains would have shown on. I want him to know how dangerous I am.
A rumbling stirs in my chest. An ache to rips his head off.
“You don’t look very comfortable.” He tsks. “I’d give you much better accommodations, if I could trust you.” He tilts his head in a question.
My stomach turns.
“Unless you’d rather stay here with your...lover.”
I don’t respond, unsure what to say.
“No,” Bluff spits. “Get her out of here.”
I wince.
“Trouble in paradise?” Mr. Robinson asks sweetly, his smile spreading so much wider across his face than should be possible. How is everything about this man repulsive?
I again don’t speak. Unsure if he’s telling the truth or acting. It must be an act, right?
“Well, if he doesn’t want you—have you considered my proposal?”
I suck in a breath. Give him what he wants, right? At least it would get me out of these chains.
I nod. “What are my options?” I ask with a dull voice. “Let those evil sirens take me, stay with a boy who doesn’t want me. Or...”
Let me out of these shackles so I can tear you to shreds, I say with my eyes. I should try to be more sincere. Try to hide my true desire.
“Or me.” He smiles, not at all concerned with the look in my eye. Bluff was right—give him what he wants and he won’t look past the surface. Make a man want you desperately and he won’t even notice the fangs until it’s too late. “I’ll give you anything and everything you could ever dream of,” he tells me.
Does he even know what I am? Well, he will soon.
He pulls open the barred door, stepping closer. “But what about the boy? He seems to be worth something too. Though not near as much as you.” He reaches out to caress a lock of my blond hair, and I jerk back.
Bluff curls his lip.
“He doesn’t seem to want you, but will he see reason?” Mr. Robinson turns his head to Bluff. We’re both still shackled. There are three guards inside the room, blocking the door and there are likely more ready nearby. The only way out of this place is up—a fact I learned the hard way last night. Even with the cage door open, we need a lot more to make it out of here. I don’t know how many men he has, waiting. And I don’t want to take the chance again. I won’t attempt an escape until I’m certain I can obtain it.
Perhaps if Mr. Robinson trusts me, he may let us out of this room and hold me somewhere easier to escape from.
Mr. Robinson turns to look me in the eye, reading something in my expression.
“Oh, I see.” He tilts his head. “I’m your backup plan, am I?”
“A last resort,” I spit. “You’re evil,” I tell him. True. So very true. And I’ll kill you the first chance I get. So long as it also means my freedom.
“And you’re not?” he asks, eyeing the dark spots on my dress.
I blink. Perhaps he can see the blood stains. Bluff follows his line of sight and winces.
“Don’t you agree, Bluff?”
My stomach sinks. Don’t say it, I say in my heart. Please don’t say it.
Bluff sneers. “You’re both evil.” His voice is low, gravelly. His eyes hooded. Serious. “You deserve each other.” He says it so angrily that it sends a jolt of pain through my whole body. Acting? It doesn’t feel like it.
I close my eyes. I believe him.
I believe him because I’ve seen it before.
He told me to give Mr. Robinson what he wants so he’ll be easier to manipulate. And he did the same thing with me this morning. He told me everything I wanted to hear.
My blood is replaced with ice cold liquid. My muscles release, no longer tense. They’ve given up.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I already knew the truth. Perhaps he loved me once. But now I’m a siren.
And sirens are the enemy.
Now, I’m a monster.
I look Bluff in the eye, pain and anger filling them. “I’m just a monster, right?” His eyebrows pull down, fear replacing the anger that just filled his expression so very
convincingly. “You don’t have to protect me anymore.”
“Whitley?” he whispers, his face falling. Does he know that I know the truth now?
“You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore,” she says quietly.
Mr. Robinson nods to one of the guards, who approaches, kneels down, and quickly unlocks my shackle. I smile, acid still filling every ounce of me.
I should feel pleased with my success. Or perhaps I should feel angry with Bluff for manipulating me. But instead, I just feel sad. Broken.
He was right. He gave me exactly what I didn’t even know I wanted.
And now I see the truth.
Perhaps forgetting isn’t such a bad thing after all.
Bluff
I can’t breathe as I look into her eyes. Anger and pain swirling like a thunderstorm in those beautiful grey eyes.
Hate.
That’s what it is. She hates me.
And that is not pretend. It’s real.
I’m just a monster, right?
Does she remember? And if so, my God, that’s the memory that comes back to her? I don’t move for several long moments as she’s unshackled and guided from the room. I can’t say anything without dismantling our success. She’s getting out of here and I’m certain she’ll be able to escape once she’s on the main floor of the house.
We won.
But I lost.
Because if she hates me—what would stop her from going back to them?
I needed her to trust me. I thought it was working. I thought...
“Whitley,” I say again as she crosses the threshold of the cell, leaving me behind. “Remember. Fight to remember more.” I tell her. It’s not exactly fitting with our ruse, but right now that doesn’t matter. I need her to hear it. Desperation leaks into my voice. She’ll get it if she remembers. I hope. “If you remember... it’ll make sense.” Perhaps.
She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t look back at me.
I remain shackled to wall as she leaves, arm in arm with Mr. Robinson. She’ll escape and leave me behind. Again. And this time, I’m not sure I don’t deserve it.
“You’re not a monster,” I say gently as the door clicks behind them.
Bound by the Depths Page 16