The Siren

“I worry about you two,” I confessed, crossing the room to hug them. “Honestly, I’m jealous sometimes of how well you’ve both … assimilated. But I wonder how much longer you can do that without making a mistake.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Miaka assured me. “This is what sirens have done throughout history, and we just happen to be the best at it so far. Even Aisling lives on the outskirts of a town. Human contact helps to keep us sane. You don’t have to seclude yourself to make it through this life.”

I nodded. “I know. But I don’t want to push my limits, or the Ocean’s.”

Elizabeth didn’t need to say anything. I could hear her judgment without words.

“Why don’t we go see Aisling?” Miaka suggested. “We’ve never really asked her about how she copes.”

“Because she’s never here,” Elizabeth replied, irritation in her voice.

We hadn’t seen our fourth sister since the last time we sang, and it had been well over two years since she’d lived with us.

“That might be a good idea. Just a short trip,” I added, mainly for Elizabeth, who had never really warmed to Aisling. She was too reclusive for Elizabeth’s taste.

Elizabeth nodded. “Sure. Nothing else going on anyway.”

We headed out the back door where a small wooden staircase led down to a floating dock. A handful of the other houses had Jet Skis or personal paddleboats secured to theirs, but ours was empty. The sun was low enough that no one would see as we slipped into the water.

Her currents stirred in greeting, and an almost tickling feeling wrapped around my body as we sank in. I relaxed in the warmth of Her embrace, already calmer.

Can you tell Aisling we’re coming? I asked.

Of course.

Wheee! Elizabeth sang as we dived deep into the water and set off. The speed stripped away her flimsy clothes, and she spread out her arms, hair dancing behind her, as she waited for her siren’s dress.

When we moved like this, every earthly thing we wore fell away. The Ocean opened Her veins, releasing thousands of particles of salt that affixed themselves to our bodies, creating long, delicate flowing gowns. They were gorgeous, coming out in every shade of Her—the purple of a patch of coral that human eyes had never passed, the green of kelp growing toward the light, the gold of burning sand at sunrise—and were never exactly the same thing twice. It was almost painful to watch them fall apart, one grain at a time, rarely lasting more than a few days after we left Her.

You seem sad. Her words came only to my ears.

I’ve been having more nightmares, I admitted.

You don’t have to sleep. You’ll be fine without it, you know that.

I smiled. I do. But I like sleep. It’s soothing. I’d just like to have it without the dreams is all.

She couldn’t take away my dreams, but She always comforted me as best She could. Sometimes She took me to islands or showed me the prettiest parts of Herself, so easily hidden from humans. Sometimes She knew that caring for me meant letting me be apart from Her. I never wanted to be away from Her for too long, though. She was the only mother I had, now.

Part mother, part warden, part employer … it was a hard relationship to explain.

Aisling swam out to greet us, her own dress partially formed and floating in strands around her.

What a surprise! she greeted, squeezing Miaka’s hand. Follow me.

We trailed behind her, skirting around the plates of land as they pushed themselves above the water into continents. Our sense of geography was a bit specialized, knowing that some places were surrounded by rocks, others by sand, others by sheer cliffs. There were other things we knew by heart as well, like the places we’d found each other or the locations of ships we’d taken down, a peculiar knowledge of unmapped ghost towns on the Ocean’s floor.

We tailed Aisling as she went to a slightly uneven coast, pulling herself upright as soon as the water was shallow enough.

“Don’t worry,” she said, taking in our nerves when she brazenly exited onto land. “We’re all alone out here.”

“I thought you lived near a town,” Elizabeth said, hopping across the rounded rocks as we crossed the shore.

Aisling shrugged. “Distance is relative.” She led us to an aging cottage just beyond the tree line. It was picturesque, settled underneath some heavy branches, and I imagined those limbs cooling the space in the summer and protecting her from snow in the winter. In front was a small garden bursting with flowers and berries, and the way everything flourished made me feel that, while the rest of us were connected solely to water, Aisling had drawn strength from all the elements.

“This place is so small!” Miaka commented on entering. It was one room, barely the size of the living room in our beach house. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, just a small bed and a bench along one side of a table.

“I think it’s cozy,” Aisling remarked, placing a kettle on an ancient stove. “It’s nice of you to come. I picked some fresh berries today and was making a pie. Give me forty-five minutes, and we should have a magnificent dessert!”

“Expecting company?” Elizabeth asked. “Or just incredibly bored?”

We didn’t have many reasons to cook. We didn’t need food, and Elizabeth especially could go for months before the craving for a particular taste hit her.

Aisling smiled as she finished lining the bottom of her pan. “Yes, the king should be dropping by any moment.”

“Ah, the king likes pie?” Miaka joked back.

“Everyone likes pie!” she teased, and sighed. “I was a little bored today, to tell you the truth. So I’m very happy for your visit.”

I stood beside Aisling as she poured the filling. “You know, you can always come stay with us.”

“Oh, I like the quiet.”

“You just told us you were bored,” Miaka said, her artist’s eyes exploring the room.

“One day out of a hundred,” Aisling said, dismissing us. “But I know I should spend more time with you all these days. I’ll try.”

“You okay?” I asked. “You seem keyed up.”

Aisling plastered a smile on her face. “I’m great. Just happy to see you all. What’s the occasion?”

“Can you please tell Kahlen to calm down?” Elizabeth asked, sitting on the lone bed looking as if she owned the place. “She’s moping again. Dabbling with the scrapbooks, afraid her world will end if so much as the shadow of a human crosses her path.”

Aisling and I shared a look, and she grinned. “What’s really going on?”

“Nothing,” I swore. “We’re just comparing coping mechanisms. I feel safer when we’re more anonymous. The fewer people we interact with, the better.”

“And yet you insist on living in big cities,” Elizabeth grumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “So we blend in easier.”

Miaka walked over, placing a tiny hand on Aisling’s shoulder. “I think what Elizabeth means is, since you’re the oldest, you might have some wisdom to pass on.”

Aisling took off her apron, and we all sat together, crowding on the bench and the bed. “Well, let’s be honest. The Ocean doesn’t need more than one of us at a time. She could do Her work with a single siren. But She makes sure there are at least two at all times so we won’t be alone.”

“And we have the Ocean,” I added.

“Which is weird. She’s hard to understand.” Elizabeth toyed with the salty sparkles of her dress.