My wail dies, kicked out of me by Canosa's impending presence. For a few moments I'm disoriented, not fully understanding where I am and how I got here, held fast in the flow of the melody that I managed to produce with my pain. I blink, tearing myself out of my choral daze, and glance down.
Hunter.
He's injured. He died, didn't he? An otherworldly melody, piercing in its beauty, touches my every nerve and sends me into bliss. I have revived him, after all. His soul is back to its splendor of homey sounds, the comfort of shuffling slippers on a parquet floor, the banging of pots in the kitchen, a late summer wind filled with bird whistles, and laughter. Hearty laughter. I want to give in to it, to bask in it as if it was the sun, and soak up its warmth. But I can't, not after what just happened. I won't. I must make him hate me, and then I need to disappear from his life; this time, for good.
Involuntarily, I let out a cry of dismay.
"Can we do without screaming, please?" Hunter croaks, as if he was awake for a while. "I thought paradise was supposed to be a quiet place, a place without headaches. Man, I'm thirsty."
My thoughts about Canosa vanish in an instant.
"You didn't die." I kneel over him, a surge of happiness making me tremble.
"Thanks for letting me know. I was just wondering about that." His lips part into a grimace of pain across his bloody face. The dusk of the pre-evening sky matches the lavender blue of his eyes.
I gasp, at once exhilarated and miserable, because all of this is so absurd, so unreal, and so ridiculous that, at times, I'm having a hard time believing it's actually happening. Then I promptly remember my goal of leaving him and suppress my normal questions, like how does he feel, where does it hurt, does it hurt really bad, can he move, and so on. I make myself think of the worst possible thing I could tell him right now.
I hate you. You were supposed to die. Now look at you, you're a cripple. You're a burden to me. You're...You're...
A myriad of pathetically immature and condescending phrases circle in my head, and I'm astounded at my own idiocy, at my primitive logic. Why do I always resort to this kind of thinking, lashing out like I'm a five-year-old little girl who is upset, so she stomps her foot like a spoiled brat?
"Hunter. I need to tell you something important. I'm sorry that I don't have a properly prepared speech for this. I didn't think we'd live. But if I don't say it now, I won't have the courage to try to say it again." I pause.
He closes his eyes and groans. I can't tell if he's listening or not, if he's ignoring me on purpose or simply because everything hurts in his body; but now that I started saying it out loud, I'm unable to stop.
I swallow hard, deciding to stop hiding behind double-meanings and childish mood swings. "I'm leaving. And...I don't want you to love me anymore," I say quietly. I hold myself in place and keep my mouth shut, afraid I'll come unglued.
He props himself up on his right elbow and winces, but doesn't cry out. "What? Sorry, I missed it. What did you say?"
I raise my eyes at him, unable to repeat the "I'm leaving" part, and burst into, "Are you hurt? How are you feeling?" Then I promptly bite my tongue. I can't display any kind of affection toward him right now.
I hug myself, to stop the urge to reach out. Everything inside me trembles, waiting for that characteristic click, that sound that will indicate that he has fallen in love with me all over again, the crackle of his soul catching on fire. I must be looking horrible, because I fail to hear it.
He just looks at me blankly.
"Did you seriously just ask me how I'm feeling?" He's shaking, visibly annoyed. "How would you feel if you were me? Huh? Do you really have no idea? That's just great." He shakes his head. "All right, I'll tell you. I'm feeling fine, thank you very much, considering I just fell more than five hundred fucking feet off this cliff, almost smashed to pieces, and am probably crippled now. Thanks to my siren girlfriend who decided to save me. Did I ask you to? Nope. So then, why in the fuck are you the one crying? I'm the one who has every right to come apart." He's glaring at me, his bloodied face angry with fire.
I wipe my face. "Sorry."
He's on a roll, rattling off insult after insult. I'm taking in his resentment, abashed at its ferocity. I remember reading in some magazine that when you prevent someone from committing suicide, instead of thanking you, they shower you with indignation. Because in that scary moment—when they've had it, when they finally hoped to find relief from their pain by parting with life—you interrupted, and they are overwhelmed with tremendous devastation. Most internalize this new pain and never show it. But a few are capable of throwing it in your face. Hunter is certainly the latter type. Here he was, hoping to end his torture once and for all, and here I am, having broken my promise to help him.
"One minute I'm flying through the air, and the next, I wake up on the bottom of the world, broken but alive. I'm supposed to be dead, all right. I'm supposed to—cut it out!" He makes an angry face of a dog that's protecting a bone, complete with snarling and bared teeth.
I recoil, tearing my hand away and wanting to slap myself for slipping my guard. On one level, I'm glad he's distressed. I imagine one can't fall in love while in the state of shock and confusion like he is right now. This will make my job easier.
"We can't stay here," I say as calmly as I can. "Canosa heard me singing. She and, I think Ligeia and Teles, they're coming. Sirens can move fast when they want, so we have maybe a few minutes, at best, before they get here. I'll need to carry you. May I?" As I say it, I wonder if I'll be able to lift him in my state, let alone carry him.
In an attempt to prop himself up on both elbows, Hunter shifts his weight to the left and collapses on the ground. He opens his mouth into an agonizing cry. "Owww! I think my arm is broken. Fuck!"
"I thought so. I'm sorry. I'm..." I reach out to him again, but he yells with such intensity that I fall back on my butt.
"I said, don't fucking touch me!" Tears spring up in his eyes; he swats at them with his right hand, grinding his teeth.
I can't use logic to swamp my hurt anymore and blurt it out. "Why are you so mad at me?"
"Because you let me live! Isn't it obvious? I thought we agreed to die together. Then why in the hell did you stop me from dying? Why? Because you were too chicken to let me go?" He opens his mouth wide and scowls in pain, covering his bruised lip with his right hand and raising his left hand to his eyes, as if to ward off an oncoming headache.
"I...I only wanted to...But, Hunter! I couldn't not protect you. I'm sorry I failed you. I really am." I'm hurt and confused and am trying not to cry.
He's suddenly somber.
"Hey." He reaches out with his right hand, and I take it. "Hey, I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry, baby. I'm the one who should be sorry. Will you forgive me?" He suddenly comes apart and screws up his face.
"It's just that..." He looks up at me. "In the event of my death, I thought my insurance money would go to my mom. To pay for her meds, and...Well, now that goes down the drain."
After a pause, he says, "Ailen? Tell me it's not true. Tell me we're having a bad trip. Tell me we took some strong medicine-grade shit. For fuck's sake, did we really just fall down that cliff?" He motions with his head. "This is not happening. It can't be happening." His eyes widen. "Wait, did you say something about leaving?"
My ears adjust to a sudden change. I put a finger across my lips, listening for any sign of life. Hunter falls silent, his eyes widening.
It's quiet. In fact, it's too quiet, and the feeling of being watched creeps into my senses again.
"I don't like this silence," I whisper.
Hunter nods. I scoot next to him, studying the valley and the road above us, listening to the forest life, to the faint gurgle of the river. I detect the distant motor of a car. A couple of cars. A mouse here, a bird there, and deer. Three of them, grazing on the grass a couple hundred feet away. Their souls rustle softly in the wind, pine needles crunching under their hooves.
Pine needles fall.
Pine needles fall on my head. I brush them out of my hair, and then look up and meet two eyes. The two eyes of Canosa who descends head first down gigantic Douglas fir boughs, using them as ladder steps, hissing. Ligeia and Teles are behind her, their long hair hanging down in bleached hunks, making them look like inverted blooming cattails. My only thought is, how did they make it here without a sound, how did I fail to detect them?
There is a stillness in the air, and I know that as soon as I make a move, even attempt to breath, it will erupt.
The world folds into a narrow tunnel and at the opposite end of it I see Canosa, about ten feet away from me. She glows with an ageless hunger. Perhaps a thousand souls have sunk into her, perhaps a hundred thousand. I don't move, staring, immobile, glued to the ground. That white mane over her eerie face, and those large milky eyes. Their chill makes me shrink. It's impossible for me to get any colder, yet I do. I crust all over with a layer of frost and terror. I know that this is not a game anymore. I know she's fed up with me and came here to kill me.
"How the hell did you get here so fast?" I manage.
"Ailen Bright, silly girl. Nice to see you in one piece," she says. That's her opening point. I get it.
"I thought I blew you guys out of the water. I told you not to bother me again, remember?" I clench my fists to gather more courage, cursing that I'm not fully healed yet. Every movement sends spasms down my spine. I ignore them, putting on a mask of indifference.
"I told you to stay away. Do you understand the word away? Do you need me to spell it for you? Because I can." It hardly sounds threatening, but it's the best I can do under the circumstances.
Without breaking our gaze, from the corners of my eyes I see droplets of water caught between fir needles. Ligeia's and Teles's hungry faces peer from above, glistening with anticipation. They both have changed, as if they grew up—that's the best way I can describe them. Cold, distant, bent on feeding their lust, savoring the idea of swallowing Hunter's soul already.
Because, of course, he's just another meal for them right now, thanks to my brilliant reviving technique. I growl, caught in sudden dolor.
One against three. One injured weakling against a pack of nacreous girls on the prowl.
"Girls, you got your reward. Have fun," Canosa says.
And I'm born. A note rises to my throat, forcing my lips open.
I scream a war cry. It's so loud that the trees seem to sway in response, the mountain itself pulses to my rhythm, and the ground shifts under my feet. I scream an animal scream, a wild call to protect my territory. It means, Back off, or I'll claw at your eyes, I'll rip out your heart, I'll feast on your flesh, I'll grind your bones into a thousand pieces and spit you out to rot.
Hunter squints and covers his right ear with his uninjured hand. I wish I could help him, but I'd rather have him deaf than dead.
Both sirens answer me with a guttural wail.
It booms through the expanse of the gorge and echoes off the vertical walls of rock, whining and howling and moaning. They're hungry, but they're waiting for their alpha to make her first move.
She does.
Canosa lets go of her grip on the fir's thickest bough about ten feet from the ground and propels herself forward with inhuman speed, landing on my back. She attempts to stuff my gills full of fir needles. I anticipated the trick so I crane my neck as far back as it will go, raising my shoulders at the same time. Fir needles fall under my sweatshirt, sticky with sap and smelling sharp.
Canosa twangs with fury and tosses me to the ground. I reach back and grab handfuls of her hair. We roll away from Hunter. Mineral dust stuffs my eyes, tiny pebbles flying into my mouth. Bitter, crunchy. Canosa tightens her grip on me. She's strong, but I'm faster, even though I'm not fully healed yet. I twist in her grip and nail her in the face with the back of my head. She lets go with a cry.
"How is that for a greeting?" I say and begin crawling back toward the tree, to where Hunter stirs.
Canosa stares me down, no doubt calculating her next move.
This is a girl fight unlike you've ever seen. The immature bickering that I saw on Seward Park beach is gone. This is real. This here is an alpha siren, animalistic and primitive to the very marrow of her bones. Her nostrils flare, and her eyes search me, lips tight. She pulls herself back up, no shred of clothing on her petite yet womanly body, except thick strands of hair so long it touches her feet.
She glances up. A signal. Ligeia and Teles let go of the tree with a cry, propel over my head a good fifteen feet, and squat down next to her. They both look up at me, waiting. I know they're just along for the ride. They don't care if I die or not, only Canosa hungers for my death, or, perhaps, she's not done playing with me yet. But I realize I am. I don't want to be part of this anymore. After this morning, I've finally had enough of dying.
"Bravo," I say, sitting up, feeling for Hunter's hand and squeezing it once. Then quickly two times more. He squeezes it back three times.
"In simple speak—which I'm sure you require—congratulations." I continue, "This will give you bragging rights. How many sirens did you bring with you to take me down? Only two? Wow, too bad. Will that be really enough against one injured newborn? I mean, after all, I'm what—barely a week old? If I were you, I wouldn't take any chances. Oh, look at me; I'm such a terrible, horrible monster." I growl theatrically, to see how much I can annoy her.
Canosa stiffens and produces a loud hiss.
"You forgot how to talk? I see. All right, I'll talk for both of us. I understand your plan now. This is what it was all about. To wait for me to turn sixteen, to be able to turn me into a siren according to your special rules, which I still don't fully understand. Then to torture me as much as possible, to see pain on my face, which resembles my father's face to some extent, right? Oh, and my mother's as well—so, two birds killed with one stone. I get it. Then you waited for me to fall off the cliff and break all my bones to become an easy target. Sorry it took me so long. Truly. I apologize for the inconvenience." I let go of Hunter's hand and stand, attempting to perform a curtsey, failing horribly and nearly falling off my quivering legs.
"Hush! Ungrateful girl," Canosa says with a flick of her hair. I would imagine she's missing a mirror to check how magnificent she looks. "Have you lost the rest of your manners? The world does not revolve around you or your pitiful desires. Why would I expect any more from a motherless child?"
That stings. I cringe, willing myself not to react.
"I came here to thank you," she continues. "Thank you for a job well done. Now, if you could please step aside and let us finish it, I would be delighted." She points toward Hunter and assumes the stance of a boxer, legs spread far apart for balance, arms bent close to her sides, hands in fists.
"If you came to thank me, why did you have to bring your sorry sidekicks with you? To tag along, because they had nothing else to do? Or to stand by in case something terribly awful should happen? Are you afraid of me or something? You wanted them to take me under the bridge, so why didn't they? Look at me, am I really that scary? Ailen Bright! The little girl who turned out to be so dangerous, so frightening! And she's not alone! She's with her terribly dangerous friend, only injured from a fall off the cliff over there, no big deal." I motion at Hunter who throws me a terrified look, asking with his eyes, What the hell are you doing?
"Oh, my God! Everyone! Run and hide," I finish.
Ligeia and Teles hiss at me.
"Nice speech. Hold it, girls," Canosa pushes Ligeia and Teles back, having started forward. They shout their displeasure to her, visibly annoyed.
Hunter manages to sit up. His uninjured hand pokes around for a rock the right size, to fit into his palm. I hear his laborious breathing without looking, backing away from Canosa and toward him, spreading my arms in a protective gesture.
"You little thief. You stole my catch. Again. And I wanted to call you my sister." Ligeia purses her lips and wipes the dirt off her face, sneers, showing rows of jagged teeth that I haven't noticed before.
"We'll split him in half this time, okay, sister? You promised," Teles says, her voice melodic yet harsh. Her hair, curly and thin, barely covers her voluptuous body.
"Oh, so you act on command only? Canosa is your boss, right? The big sis. Lovely arrangement," I murmur with distaste.
"Quiet. Back off, both of you," Canosa interjects.
Cool on the surface, my mind races inside in a mad daze. What should I do next, how can I overpower three strong sirens while my bones are still hardening, my muscles still knitting together, my skin still closing, and Hunter so badly injured and weak?
"Nice outfits. I still prefer you with your hair up, though. Like, totally naked," Hunter suddenly says. We exchange a look. He nods, assuring me to trust him. "I hear there is going to be a girl fight, just for me? Why, thank you, ladies. This should be spectacular."
"More like a party in honor of our jump," I chime in. "I think we broke the world-record, surviving a fall over five hundred feet. Drinks should be served momentarily. Care to join?"
"Nah, I don't know. I'm not dressed for the occasion." He motions at his torn sweatshirt.
"Hunter Crossby," Canosa says, acknowledging his existence for the first time. "The unfortunate siren hunter who happened to forget his weapon. Pity. But it's very nice to see you again. Alive. How's the mom?" Canosa asks.
I sense Hunter tense all over, emanating hatred, and then it's gone, washed over with self-control.
"Fine, thanks. How's yours? I forget the name. Let's see... Terpsichore? No. Melpomene. Nope, not that. Sterope? Chthon? There were four, right? Nice names too. Listen, I always wanted to ask you how this works. Did they all fuck the same guy?"
I break into a wide smile. I know that what Hunter said is mean and primitive, but I can't help it.
A fizz of anger erupts from Canosa's lips. "Make him shut up. I can't stand this insolent nonsense." She flicks her hand and assumes the stance of a nonchalant observer, her back to the glistening river, her arms crossed in front of her chest.
Ligeia and Teles shriek in approval and advance at me.
I widen my stance, feeling pressed into the corner of a gigantic basin framed by mountains, their ridges its rims, their vegetation its dingy slippery coating. The only thing that's missing to complete the picture is water. Canosa watches the scene with her lips stretched into a smile, her body stiff with anticipation. For a second, I think that she's simply a bronze faucet, until she snarls at me and cackles her hideous laugh.
My heart sinks. This is not a girl fight like I thought, this is slaughter. Perhaps she'll leave me alive after it, just to play some more. Perhaps she'll kill Hunter in front of my eyes, just to see what I'll do, how I'll react. She's bound to win.
I decide that my only defense is my voice, so I concentrate on inhaling a lungful of air, my arms spread wide to shield Hunter.
Too late. One second Teles flexes her muscles a few feet in front of me, another she clasps her hands around my neck behind me, cutting off air, just like she did on the boat yesterday. I don't even have time to react, she's lightning fast and I'm painfully slow. I twist my arms to try to grab a fistful of her hair, but it's so smooth and slippery that my fingers keep sliding. She keeps turning her head left and right to avoid me. The best I can do is to grope her head, hoping to stick my fingers into her gills and rip them open.
My heart palpitates. We fall and roll on the ground, clawing at each other. I can't make a single sound. Finally, Teles stuffs my face into crumbled rock and holds me hostage, sitting on top of my back. She presses her left knee against my neck, and pins my twisted arms to my back with her right. I wiggle, forcing her to continually struggle for balance, not giving her a chance to stick her fingers into my gills, because I'm sure that's what she'll do next now that my voice is disabled by my mouth being mashed into the ground.
"Hold still!" she yells.
I can't answer and I wish myself deaf so that I can't hear what's happening, but I hear every bit of it.
Ligeia descends on Hunter, pins him down, laughing. In my mind, she's a squirming maggot that wants to eat his soul, to tear him apart and suck on his guts, devouring him whole—bones and sinew and hair. He cries in pain and then falls silent. She must have propped open his eyes. The first tendrils of fog reach my peripheral vision, and the air temperature drops ten degrees.
Ligeia begins to sing.
"You said we'll split him in half this time! Don't you dare eat him whole!" Teles shouts.
Canosa blares a cry to silence the arguing, hushing the rest of the noises into a thick layer of fog. Momentarily distracted, Teles relaxes her grip and it gives me the break I need. I tense, crest on my left side, roll over, and throw her off me. Taken by surprise, she falls back on her butt and hands. Free from her hold, I lurch forward and saddle her, pinning her wrists to the ground.
"I was just wondering," I say. "Would you like some gravel for dinner instead?"
She begins screaming.