Siren's Call

Chapter 13 - Vacancy

13 - Vacancy

Why did that description sound remotely like Danae herself?

That terrifying question marred the night that she had been certain was easily her best night, a blemish, a dark stain that was clawed across the soft mirth that encased her heart. That little wall of gaiety and felicity was soft, weak, overcome much too effortlessly by those frightening words.

Why did that description sound remotely like Danae herself?

She shivered, beneath the starless sky that was dappled with clouds and branches that stretched out above them both like a sheltering arm. Her infinitesimal movement did not go unnoticed, and another arm, one much warmer and far more soothing, wrapped unfalteringly around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"Are you cold?" he breathed into her ear as his hand rubbed against her arm. She shook her head, and it was not a lie. More things worried her than the glacial winds that were growing colder day by day.

As they drew closer to the circus, Danae felt her heart grow colder than the winds that swept the area in irregular intervals, as her eyes fell upon the crowd that was gathered. Lucas's arm slipped from her shoulder, keeping instead only her hand as he set a pace that had them running. A tortured growl of denial was ripped from his throat, as they watched the golden dust shimmer for a split second before vanishing through the dark clouds above. 

The troupe turned to meet them as they reached the crowd, and the anger that shadowed their eyes was unmistakable. Ferran stood behind them all, his own eyes edged with an infuriation that obscured the sorrow that was echoed upon the faces of their friends. 

"Who?" Lucas' harsh demand echoed with the winds that swept in with the tense silence that befell upon them. His golden eyes flickered from Ferran's dark eyes to Aoife's grey ones as the latter stepped from the crowd.

Danae flinched at the anger that fringed every aspect of the girl, from her stormy eyes to her pursed lips and clenched fists. Her fingers tightened around Lucas' for a fraction of a second.

"Who?" Lucas repeated. 

"Carter." It was Ferran's who answered his question, eyes tight, jaws taut.

Danae shut her eyes against the pain that now clawed mercilessly through her heart. "Carter," she whispered the name, her voice breaking with her agony. How long had it been since she first met him, the shy boy who had welcomed her with a bashful greeting? 

Not very long, her mind whispered to her, an answer she rather not hear.

"Are you happy now?"

The words alone were so unfitting for this situation, so strange in this context, that Danae's eyes flashed open to meet the ones of the girl who had spoken, much less the tone at which they were said. Punctuated at every word was the anger that yearned to reach out and drag the person in question down to the deepest corners of hell.

Aoife's strident snarl was directed not at Lucas, but at Danae. She hardly understood the fury; Carter's death had nothing to do with her.

"Don't," Lucas warned. His slight movement put her behind him in an imperceptible warning.

"Don't what?" Aoife now directed her ire at him, eyes flashing, her unspoken challenge loud in the following silence. "Don't kill her? But that is what I mean to do."

Lucas tensed in response to her crude words, words that cut through much more than just Danae's heart. Kill her? She shook her head in disbelief. Against Lucas' evident wishes, she pushed past his protective arm to stand beside him, ignoring the exasperation hung upon his face. "You have no reason to," her words were soft, strong, her own feisty heart matching Aoife's furious glare.