Before I can say anything, Hunter pulls me into a kiss. The melody of his soul overwhelms me. It's so close, I want to gulp it, momentarily hungry. I try to resist, pulling away, horrified at the sudden urge to fall apart and cry. Holding it, holding it, holding it. And then losing it completely and letting go, unable to keep on the lid. I feel water trace my cheeks and drop with quiet splats onto the rain jacket. Hunter's lips and tongue burn mine with living heat, making my skin tingle. His irises shimmer in a feverish frenzy, bluer than before, saturated to the maximum. His scent overpowers the stupid smell of the fake ocean fragrance my father likes so much; I inhale it, feeling almost alive. It's pine. He smells of pine, Linden flowers, and sugar. I stand there and let him kiss me, let him pull me closer. Why not? I'll be dead soon anyway.
We're like two inexperienced theater goers who came not to watch the play, but to secretly kiss in the back row, because it's more sophisticated than kissing in a movie theater and more cool to try to absorb a live performance at the same time. For the sake of divine experience, as Hunter would say. I imagine that we really are standing in a chamber hall after the opera singers, the spectators, and the orchestra had departed, even the janitors left and unknowingly locked us up for the night.
I'm bitter. Bitter at how my life has turned out and how it's about to end. Bitter that I can't be one or the other, neither girl nor siren. Fine, since I can't let myself eat him, I decide to take as much of this goodness with me as I can, suddenly kissing Hunter back with fervor, nearly grazing him in my haste. I stare him in the eyes, pretending to swim in them like two pools of beautiful, blue water. Like I'm a pebble thrown inside with an expert twist. I hop, hop, hop, making little, round waves, then, finally, give in to gravity and sink. Tears gush from my eyes.
I won't cry, I won't. I won't! I want to stomp my foot to believe it. Hunter breaks away.
"What's wrong?" he says, alarmed.
"What do you mean, what's wrong? Everything is wrong! Everything!" I cry and then break into sobs, not caring anymore.
"I'm sorry..." he says and trails off. "I'm sorry I screwed up. I really am." He hangs his head, his arms falling to his sides. I'm furious at myself for wishing his arms would rise and embrace me, for lusting after him, for wanting to eat his soul.
"No, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm the one who started it all. I'm the one who jumped and got turned into a siren and stuff. You had no idea it was going to be me you'd have to kill on the job, so I get it. I hate myself. I really do. I deserve to die." I sniff, unable to wipe off my tears, my hands still tied. I think Hunter doesn't offer to untie me because on some level he thinks it's safer this way, and I agree. So, I don't ask him to do it, not fully trusting my ability to control myself.
"Well, I don't hate you. And I don't think you deserve to die. It's bullshit. You're..." he hesitates.
"I'm what? What? Go on, say it. Say what you really think," I challenge him.
"I don't think anything. It's not what I..."
"Bullshit!" I cut him off, shaking, and then immediately regret what I said. Feeling the siren in me wanting to break out and feed, I battle it, pushing it down. I take a deep breath and exhale loudly, through pressed lips. "I'm sorry. Just get rid of me, all right? I can't stand this anymore. Please?" These last words I say so quietly, I can barely hear myself, afraid that if he doesn't do it first, I'll lose control and kill him, and then kill myself afterward.
"You're not mad at me, then? For, you know, for taking this job?" He has this puppy look about him that used to make me swoon. Suddenly, I just want to shake him really hard.
"Look, I don't know how much longer I can stay calm, okay? Thank God my hands are tied. It's awfully hard, with you standing so close." I swallow, hurting from hunger. His soul is teasing me, I want to suck it out in one big gulp. He touches my neck.
"You're not helping." I flinch away.
"I don't care." He cradles my face.
"Dude, let's be real here." I pat the aquarium wall behind me for support. There is nowhere else to retreat. "Your mother is dying, but she still has a chance. I'm dead already. Well, almost. So finish me. What's so difficult about pushing a button on that thing? I mean, it's not even a real trigger, so pretend you're playing a computer game. All right?"
Our noses touch. "Ailen, why are you saying these things? What's wrong?" he asks again, and that does it.
"Why do you keep repeating the same stupid question? You just asked me a minute ago. What do you mean, what's wrong? You're...I'm..." I stumble, bewildered at his idiocy and at my inability to communicate clearly. "I just explained everything to you!"
He brushes my cheek. "Why are you crying? Talk to me."
"I am talking to you!" I take a deep breath and explode. "Fucking kill me already!"
The wall panels shimmer from the force of my voice and then settle back into position. I feel the glass vibrate behind my back. Hunter cups his ears for a moment, then takes his hands off again.
"I can't kill you, you know that." He studies the floor, arms hanging aimlessly down his sides.
"No, I don't! How would I know?" I sniff. "You're such a liar sometimes, it's disgusting. You need the money, I know you do. Your mom needs the money. So be a man and do it. Finish what you started, all right? If you can't, I'll do it myself." I look at the sonic guns scattered on the floor and wiggle my hands, wondering if I can break the metal rope. "Looks easy enough."
"No, you won't!" Hunter says in alarm.
"Fine. You do it then. Come on, I'm tired of waiting."
He looks at me, then at the guns, then back at me again. "I can't. I just can't."
"Then you're a fucking loser! Kill me, you idiot! Get rid of this!" I squat down, stick my butt in between my shackled arms, plop on the floor, and pull my hands up and over my tied ankles. Then, I jump up again and stick my hands under his nose. "See this? Feel it." I push them into his chest. "What do they feel like?"
"Um, like your hands..."
"Jeez, Hunter, I hate it when you act like an idiot. You know exactly what I mean. How do my hands feel to you, temperature-wise?"
"Cold."
I grab his hand with both of mine and press it against my chest, right in the middle.
"How about here?"
He blinks.
"Answer me. Do you feel my heart?"
"Yeah, sure." He blinks again as if unsure where this is going.
"You know what it pumps?"
"Not really," he stammers.
"Not really? Stop lying. Every siren hunter should know. It pumps water. Cold, dark water. It's not even blood, it's some dead liquid, get it? Dead!" I must look scary, because he takes a step back.
"I get it. Honest." His hands rise in a self-protecting gesture.
"I'm dead, Hunter. D-E-A-D. Dead. This," I tap my face, touch my gills, spread out my fingers, "is fake, okay? It's not real, it can't live. It exists by stealing. Stealing life from others, temporarily, while it lasts. Always on the lookout for the next meal, that next soul that will fill my void." I slap my chest. "Hear it ringing? It's empty. If you have no soul, if you're empty, if you can't even love, then what's the point of this existence, tell me, what? What?"
I glare at him, knowing that if he makes one wrong move, I will lose control.
"You," he says under his breath, his eyes open wide, his face vulnerable somehow.
"Liar!" I cry. "You're one pathetic liar, you..." I feel tears roll down my cheeks, but now that I can wipe them off, I make no effort. I'm beyond caring. "I hate you. You only say this because you pity me. Well, I have news for you. I don't need your pity. I won't ever fall for this again. Never. Ever." Tears fall from my chin. "It's not a game, okay? We're not stoned, sitting in the bathroom, talking mythology and shit. This is real. Your job is to kill me, and my job is to kill you. So just do it already, before I do it. Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?"
He just stands there, looking helpless, wringing his hands as if he's unsure of what to do next. It makes me even more furious.
"What do you want, Hunter, tell me, what? You want to be in love with a siren, is that it? Is that what you want? For me to constantly fight the urge to snuff you out, for you to walk every day in danger of potentially dying from my song? I want to murder you! I want to murder you right now and feed on you, do you understand?"
"Sorry, I can't help it. I just...love you." His mouth slightly open, he stares at me like a child who's discovered the biggest piece of candy on the planet. Unable to believe in its existence, he's dumbstruck and euphoric, fingering his empty pockets, knowing he can't afford it.
"Why?" I nearly shriek. "Why do you love me?"
"Because, I just do. You're...awesome." He stares at me with such naiveté, I begin to tremble all over with fury.
"That's a stupid reason. I don't believe you. I'm not worth it. I'm a monster. You can't...love...a monster," I say in a loud whisper and recognize my father's voice in mine, the tones of a barely hidden anger that's about to break loose.
"Yeah, you can," he says.
"So you agree." A sudden realization dawns on me. No, it was always there, but I was afraid to believe it. I was afraid to let it grow in my mind and become real, clinging to the hope of being loveable. "I'm a monster after all. I'm a siren. And it's my voice," I say, shaking from hunger and from a terrible understanding. "It's my voice, isn't it? My siren voice mesmerizes you and makes you love me. That's what it's designed for. That's what it's doing. How did I not see this before?" My last words come out as a hiss.
"Ailen. I'm a siren hunter, remember? Your voice has no effect on me," he says calmly.
"Yeah, right. Nice try," I say, yet I think back to commanding him to kill me and how he didn't do it, unlike those cops at the Pike Place Fish Market who froze when I told them to. A small part of my mind knows there is some truth to what he says. But that something sinister that woke up in me for the first time, when I was converted to a siren, is quickly taking over. The soul of the fishmonger is long gone from my chest. I'm utterly empty and famished. A curtain of blind desire clouds my vision and all I want to do is strike. Hunter stops being Hunter. He is food.
"Step...back," I hiss, now visibly trembling, drowning in his soul's melody. It's so impossibly delicious and sweet that it feels like I haven't eaten for a whole week and there is a cake taken straight from the oven right in front of me, steaming and emitting this irresistible aroma.
"Try me," he says, endless admiration in his eyes.
"No!" I say, but this is it. Something snaps and the siren in me takes over, greedy and happy to finally have her most coveted meal. I charge at Hunter, ravenous, reeling with blind determination, my mind pulsing with one single thought.
Food.
I jump forward, my ankles still tied, locking my eyes with his. As if with the flick of a lighter, I ignite his soul. I begin to sing We Can't Be Apart by the Siren Suicides, from their Fatal album. It's the song I tried to kill him with before, when I floated up Lake Union, before I knew it was Hunter's soul roaming there trying to find me. Everything that's been bottled up in me for the past several hours erupts into one powerful gush, pouring out into first verses, sounding less like singing and more like wounded, animalistic howls.
"There you are.
Without me you cry.
I surround you.
Love me or I die."
Hunter falls to his knees a few feet away from me, opens his arms wide, and lets his soul escape, a thin ribbon of his precious sixteen years; a silky strand of his essence. A thin puff of smoke at first, it trails through the air between us and lands into my open mouth, thickening as it goes. I taste it on the tip of my tongue and my hunger intensifies, ringing through my empty chest. Forget smoking weed, this is the best junk ever. I inhale his soul with a whoosh, wolfing it down.
"I adore you,
See me or I fly.
I dream of you,
Dream with me, don't lie."
I'm high. I can't stop. It feels so good, like a first drag after a week of abstinence. No, like a shot of heroin, the way they describe it in movies, because I've never tried it myself. It feels like a double dose, right in the vein.
"Can you hold my hand?
Can you hold my heart?
Can you hold my soul?
I can't be apart."
I want more. I realize I won't be able to stop until he's all mine. Never mind me wanting to dive inside his eyes, reserve that for stupid romantics. He'll be swimming in my ribcage soon, around and around, for real. This is so much better. I watch his soul string between us in a ribbon of smoke, linger, like the herbal smell of marijuana. Pungent.
It gives me power. I inhale and holler more.
"Here I am,
Without you I fall.
You astound me,
I'm a crumbling wall.
You let go of me,
I'm a broken doll.
You dream of me,
I'm your waking call."
The walls shake, the ground shifts, and the door gets jammed in its frame. I feel the water in the aquarium splash and creep toward me, wetting the cotton cover. I command it with my voice, command it to come. Lights flicker and in those few seconds, when darkness is complete, Hunter's soul illuminates the air between us. The ceiling vibrates and splits in several places. I hear the glass creak and break, and water seeps out of the aquarium with a hiss. Fog rolls off my skin like a cascade of waves from the freezer, coiling, obscuring everything around us.
I focus on Hunter, ready to finish him.
"Can I hold your hand?
Can I hold your heart?
Can I hold your soul?
We can't be apart."
The last of his soul wisps up in a barely visible plume and I swallow it. His eyes well up and shed tears, his face goes gray, and he loses his balance. He falls and rolls to his side.
He's dying.
And I know what he did. He made me kill him, he made me believe his lie. Fear pierces me and I gag. I retch and retch and part of Hunter's soul oozes back into his mouth, greedy to reconnect with its rightful owner. I make myself heave and vomit more, until all of it is out, snaking in a faint trail of clouds back into his mouth. He gasps and arches in a spasm, then groans and rolls onto his other side, laying still.
I fall down on my knees next to him, exhausted and momentarily sober, my hunger gone in a flash.
"Hunter! Hunter, are you okay? Oh, my God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. What did I do? Oh, shit, I almost killed you. Will you ever forgive me? Please, please, please..." I continue yammering excuses, when my father's fists rain on the door that's jammed now, slightly crooked. It appears I have shifted the walls and the ceiling, only a few inches, but still.
"Ailen, open the door please, sweetie," comes through, muffled.
"Shit!" I yelp. My heart jumps out of habit before settling back down into its normal rhythm. I know he can't get in. But that means we can't get out either. Before I can think anything more, Hunter pulls on my sleeve. I hover and peel hair off his forehead, clammy and sweaty.
"Are you all right?"
He moves his lips, dry and cracked. "Wow, tha..."
"Say what?" I stick my ear right over his lips.
"Man, that was...awesome. It was...it was better than getting stoned. Like getting triple stoned or something. Can we do it again?" he gulps.
"What? Fuck off! You're sick, you sick junkie!" I push him, but my anger evaporates and my lips want to curl into a smile, as ridiculous as smiling would be at the moment. He's joking, so that means he's really okay. And I'm happy. Happy he's alive, but disgusted at what I almost did. I almost killed him. Yet I can't help myself, and finally give in to my grin.
"I said, open the damn door!" Louder. The door rattles but it's jammed pretty well and doesn't give. I hear the key being stuck in and turned again and again, and then the door being tried again.
"It looks like Papa can't get in," I say.
"So it appears," Hunter says.
An urge for mischief flashes between us as we glance toward the door and then back at each other. He grins and I love how his face splits in two, with that dimple on his right cheek. It pulls me in like a magnet, closer, until our lips touch and we're kissing. He burns me with his warmth like a high fever. I exhale whatever is left of his soul back into him, I give him all I have. I wish I could give him more. I wish I could give him everything there was to give. But I can't. I have nothing else, only one dead girl's fantasy. I'm a thief who simply returned what was stolen.
Something shifts in the air. I break away and look behind me. The cotton cover has slipped off the aquarium completely. I stare at it, for a second thinking I'd see sirens; but it's empty, full of nothing but clear water. Then, I see something else. Chains. Heavy steel chains and locks on the bottom of it, coiling like snakes, waiting for that next siren to be bolted to it forever. I shudder, chasing my thoughts away, not wanting to think about what kind of sick stuff my father used to do in here or was prepping to do in the future.
"Holy shit!" Hunter says, propping himself on his elbows.
"Don't tell me you haven't seen this before," I croak.
"No, I haven't. I swear. It was always covered," Hunter says, staring at the aquarium, its glass cracked in several places and oozing water. "Fuck me running..." He sits up.
There is a dull thud, then another. My father seems to be kicking at the door with something heavy. And there is another noise. Digging. Like a soft transfer of dirt, right above me. I slowly raise my head.
Ten feet above, behind one of the vent grilles that sits flush in a padded ceiling panel, as if trickling through several feet of water, a strange noise intensifies. It sounds like crunching and biting, shuffling and squirming. A trail of sand falls through the grille's metal net and then the vent pops open and falls, followed by a gush of dirt and little stones raining onto the floor. Cold, moist air and an earthy, damp aroma uncoil from the hole. Then someone kicks at the panels surrounding the vent. They detach and fall down, revealing a ragged hole about three feet in diameter, followed by more dirt and then a face.
"Canosa?" I whisper, unbelieving.
"What the hell..." Hunter echoes.
Canosa's head pokes through the hole in the ceiling and turns until she sees me, her eyes peeking through her matted hair, hanging upside down, brown and dirty, her eyes glistening with a triumphant glee.
"What are you looking at? Ailen Bright, I'm talking to you. Don't be rude," she says and worms her body down. Her skin is streaked and smudged, oozing that odor of a pond with dying plants and decaying animal remnants, and those who dared to wade into its murk and drown.
Hunter opens his mouth to say something, when she shushes him with a hideous hiss. He promptly closes his mouth and simply stares.
"I thought he killed you. My father. I thought—" I begin.
"You think too much," she cuts me off. "What's wrong with your lover boy?" Even hanging upside down, looking dirty and comical and ridiculous, Canosa has this bossy demeanor to her that makes me feel like I owe her for saving my life.
Before I can say anything, she talks again.
"What's the matter with you? Couldn't finish your meal? Or did you leave him for me to snack on? I think I'd like that. In fact, I think I'd like that very much." She smiles.
"No!" I shout and hop in front of Hunter, to shield him. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare." I raise my tied up hands at her. She clasps the edges of the broken ceiling panels and drops down, quickly jumping upright, brushing dirt off her hair, and shaking her head.
"Or what?" she says, smiling. "What would you do to stop me?" She takes a step toward me.
I raise my tied hands in front of me, determined to fight her no matter what.
"We should have snuffed him out in that public restroom, would've been less trouble to deal with now," she says, looking down at Hunter with pity. Then she looks at me, suddenly serious. "You know, you won't be able to stop next time. Once you've tasted a soul, you can't let it go." Deep inside, somehow, I know she's right. I look at Hunter, terrified. "So, would you like to finish him off now or later? Because we need to go. Your old man seems to be very impatient, which won't end in a good way. I'd bet my life on that."
Behind us, a whizzing noise comes alive and begins burrowing into the door. I think Papa is attempting to cut a hole in it with a chainsaw.
I glance at Hunter, then at Canosa, then at the door, then at Hunter again.
"Make a choice," Canosa tells me, wickedness gone from her voice. There's no trace of mocking or jeering or bossing in it either. She's serious, and she looks me straight in the eyes. I think I see hint of pain in there, cleverly hidden. "Stop running, stop fidgeting like you're three, and make a choice. Now."
She saw right through me, and there is nowhere for me to hide. I gawk, wanting to fall through the floor, wanting to burrow into the bottom of the deepest ocean, deep inside its deepest cave, like a tiny, unsightly sea worm—an ugly and colorless and disgusting creature, unworthy of any attention.
"Now!" she yells.
I hear the chainsaw cut through the door, and I know that if my father realizes that there's a hole in the ground leading into his man cave from our front yard, that will be the end of us all.