Sea God's Siren (The Brother's Keep)

SEA GOD’S SIREN

TESSA STOCKTON

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

SEA GOD’S SIREN

Copyright©2013

TESSA STOCKTON

Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.  The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-
200-1

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

To Fletcher, my pride and joy

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Soul Mate Publishing, for giving me the opportunity to see this work to completion . . . for all you do behind the scenes.

Chapter 1

Beached

Psalm 139

In seas of sorrow, seas of woe

Just grant me this—to love you so!

She sat filtering sand with her hands, fingering shells and their fragments, wishing she could see their colors. Until the surf reclaimed her attention. The roar of the rote sounded especially turbulent today. As if the ocean hadn’t slept through the night and in its restlessness it sought solace.

Syrena didn’t know why, but the sensation swept over her, pulling her into the depth of its body, to deliver comfort. She supposed it was her own console she desperately wanted. Yes, to witness the waves crashing, watch the shorebirds fly over the billows without a burden. To partake of the seeing universe, envision the horizon in its expansive beauty. Instead, that world banished her.

An especially loud gull cried. Syrena reached out to touch the bird overhead, for the fowl loomed close, so close. She let her hand drop to her side when she detected the bird had drifted back over water. The water she longed to meet. A part of her spirit bade her to step into the wake, experience the eternal push and pull of the tide. Splash with joyful abandon, an odd sort of fulfillment, as her two sisters did now, squealing with delight. Another part of her feared to unleash that desire, an urge that might swallow her up with the heavy blanket of fatality, consumed by an ocean’s devouring might.

The heavy thumps of her older sister, Gywn, shot past. Syrena, now drizzled with sea spray, stared in the direction of her little sister, Steffi, who would soon trail after. Just then, Steffi’s delicate footfall echoed by, but the younger one’s whining made up for her lighter feet. Syrena suppressed a smile that seemed to have its own mind, vacillating between broadening and frowning. She wished to get up and run like her sisters. Their races often seemed propelled by the wind—nothing could stop them! In her blindness, Syrena couldn’t take two steps without stumbling.

Gwyn and Steffi bounced into the wake again, as boisterous as ever.

Syrena expelled a disquieting sigh. Sometimes her saddened heart felt like it would fold unto itself, tightly bound, turning solid like ice, hard and unmoving. She bowed her head. She could never participate in Gwyn and Steffi’s carefree frolic. She would never join the sea’s symphony and survive.

“What are you doing, Syrena? Just sitting there all alone. Come splash in the waves with us.” Her approaching sister tried to pull her up.

Droplets of seawater assailed Syrena’s skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms. “Don’t, Steffi. Let me be. I’m content to listen to the surf.” She huffed. “Stop. You’re getting me wet.”

“It’s about time you got into the water. You’re almost a woman now.”

“Almost?” Gwyn, her other sister approached, poking fun. “She
is
a woman. And turning the heads of all the men in the village, that’s what she’s doing.” Gwyn giggled.

“No man would want a blind woman,” Syrena protested.

“Pshaw,” Gwyn exclaimed. “All a man wants—”

“Oh, just stop it,” Steffi, the youngest, covered her ears.

“Well, it’s true.” She eyed Syrena openly, unbeknownst to her. “A pretty face she’s got and that fair curly hair. Need I mention her greatest attributes?” At that, Steffi chuckled with nervousness as Gwyn moved her hands over an invisible hourglass.

“You’re not being very nice.” Syrena glanced in the direction of an especially loud wave that crashed against the shore, reaching to kiss the tips of her toes. She drew her legs in and rested her head on her knees.

The three sisters lingered in silence for a spell, absorbing the sun’s offering for the day.

“Well, anyway,” Steffi said. “It’s high time you got over your fear of the sea. You’ve lived at its edge your entire life and you haven’t even put your feet in.”

“I don’t have to. And I don’t need to listen to you.” Syrena wanted to be left alone. She didn’t budge.

Gwyn snorted. “Grumpy this morning . . .”

Syrena stood then, brushing off sand. She took several steps into the unknown, this time without her sisters, trying to feel her way back home but stumbled over driftwood.

“Here,” Gwyn said impatiently. “We’ll help you. We always do, you know. It’s because we love you and want to see you happy.”

“I know,” Syrena whispered with dolor, allowing the weight of her handicap to consume her. “Love you, too. Thanks,” she acquiesced, as her sisters grabbed a hand each and led her up the path from the beach.

A head popped out of the water not far from the coastline. Not one of the sisters noticed the keen eyes that watched the back of one girl in particular and had done so every day for a very long time. The wave he sent almost reached her this time, pulling her into his world. When would he ever hold her again?

Syrena.

Dagon dove to the darkest, deepest crook of his domain and sulked.

Chapter 2

Launch

The house bustled by mid-eve. Aunts, uncles, and cousins all came for a large family gathering over supper. Syrena’s parents busied themselves with entertaining everyone, while she and her sisters helped where they could in accommodating everyone’s needs. The smell of stiff birleey brew, thicker than the fog rolling in off the ocean every morning, hung in the air. Boisterous voices rose in clattering drunken hubbub the longer the night stretched.

Syrena wiped her hands, sticky from serving raw, un-distilled concoctions, on a thick cloth tucked into a waist tie. Blindness was a strange existence, she pondered, as she inadvertently glanced about the room. After a spell, she’d huddle in the dimness of some corner, desiring her own space, wanting others to leave her alone. She liked solitude. It offered a private realm in which she could daydream about seeing eyes, impossible aspirations, and love that she’d surely never come to know. Her sigh erupted, like a heavy burden that surfaced from the deepest part of her being.

“Have you finished wiping the counters then?” her mother asked, a touch of the old language tracing her tongue.

“I’ve finished, Mum.” She shook her head clear of dismal thoughts. Strangely, she went back to dwelling on the ocean.

“Good. Now bring in the stack of dessert plates from the back.”

Syrena’s heart did a downward flip. “After what happened last time? Surely, mother, you value your dishes more than my having to stumble and drop them into a million shattered pieces? And if front of everyone.” She turned her head away.

“Well, if you’re going to whine about it, have Steffi help you.” She released a burdensome sigh with the flick of a wrist. “There is still plenty to do tonight . . . before you go and hide.” She clicked her teeth in a matronly way. “I do wish you would try to be a part of the group more. We are a family.”

“Yes, Mum.” Syrena curtsied, feeling as though she already tried her best.

“She does a fine job, more than her share, wife. You don’t need to be hassling Syrena now,” her dad said.

“Husband, you coddle her too much. How will she ever survive without us if we don’t gird her up, make her strong.” Her mother raised a fist and smacked it into an open palm. “Syrena’s a woman now.” She snorted, “Stubborn man . . .”

Syrena wished they’d stop discussing her as if she weren’t right there in the room with them. Blindness had a way of making a person invisible, too.

“Ah . . . my wife.” He poked his finger playfully at his mate. “Like sugar she is.”

The mother swatted him away, suppressing a grin that threatened to soften her authoritative exterior.

The sisters giggled at their banter. Even Syrena softened. Their parents always created a stir with their verbal exchange, but the girls somehow knew they put on a show more than anything and that they really had a deep love for each other.

Steffi joined Syrena as she went to retrieve the plates. Bending low, Steffi grabbed extra flagons because an uncle had demanded that more drink was in order. Then she put them back down. “Here, let me help you,” she said to Syrena.

“No, that’s okay. I should be able to do this.”

“I’ll lead you then.”

“I said no!” Syrena didn’t need to see faces to recognize that her comment made all the heads turn. The room had grown silent. She stuttered, “I-I’m sorry, Steffi. I didn’t mean to be brash.” She hung her head. Heat filled her cheeks.

“That’s, well, it’s okay.” Steffi said quietly.

“It’s not. You’ll forgive me no matter what because you feel sorry for me, isn’t that the truth?”

“No, Syrena.” Her sister’s voice rose a notch.

Syrena couldn’t decide on her next words. Her mouth hung open and then snapped shut. Best she didn’t say anything more. You’d think the fact that others lost their senses over swigging would make her more uncomfortable at that moment, but her own behavior did the job. Her moods grew worse with each passing year. She hated her lingering sadness, feared sinking into a permanent depression.

Gwyn inched up to them, whispering, “This place is no haven tonight. Any young girl would rather be out under the open night sky than sucking in the air of this stagnant hole. Our aunts and uncles can suck the spirit right out of you when they’re drunk. What say you, sisters? Grab a few of our cousins and let’s be off to the launch . . .” 

“Mother will be disappointed,” Syrena said.

“She’s about to pick up her instrument. Once that happens, we all know she’ll be preoccupied entertaining everyone. You know how much she loves music. She’ll never even miss us.”

“She doesn’t love music more than us, Gywn.” Steffi sounded hurt.

“Did I say that?” She shoved Steffi’s head, rubbing sense into it. “Of course she doesn’t. Just the same, she’s bound to be distracted. Perfect for us to slip out.” Gwyn grinned and smacked a dishtowel at Syrena, who didn’t like the idea . . . who never liked the idea.

“I don’t know, Gwyn, it might be foolish during the heart of night,” Steffi said. “The launch can wait ‘til the morning. It would be nicer to visit the waterslide when we can see better . . . Oh!” She turned to Syrena. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. You owed me one.” She smiled softly then turned to the sound of Gwyn’s voice. “You know, the mood tonight
is
a touch smothering. Like a prison in here. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, at least to get some fresh air. The smell of that birleey brew is giving me a headache.” She rubbed her forehead.

“Yay, Syrena. It’s about time you opened up to your wild side. Come on, sisters.” She hooked each of their arms. “Adventure awaits us!”

They grabbed three of their cousins, the ones who wouldn’t tattle, and hiked to what they called the launch.

At the top of a series of sea caves was a slide, naturally carved between rocks. A steady trickle of water and Lodian moss—named after a fabled race of water dwellers—made it slick, so that anyone sliding down was more or less launched into a pool of trapped seawater below.

Syrena took her usual place, sitting at the top, listening to the shrieks and laughter of those positioning themselves for the fast track down.

Her sisters usually goaded her to give the slide a try. After all, the pool at the bottom wasn’t deep. It’d be less likely she’d drown there. Plus one of them, or a friend, promised to wait at the bottom in case she panicked anyway. Syrena never did it, nor ever had the desire.

Tonight was different.

On some strange whim, perhaps driven to climb out of her sulking mood, Syrena precariously tapped her way into the curved rock and hung on with both hands, still not positive she’d go through with it. The silence told her nobody else lingered up there at the moment. She didn’t want the pressure from others and acted independently for once.

Syrena let go. The force swept her down, sucking her through the rockery tube. She held her breath, but panic and pressure of motion compressed the air in her lungs. Then she hit the water that closed in around her like a cold blanket. She felt a current, contrary to what others said about the still pool. In fact, her body was dragged, pulled, and pushed, as if shaken and mixed akin to one of her family’s bubbly concoctions like birleey brew.

Squeezed under pressure, Syrena dared open her eyes a slit. Bubbles tickled and danced around her face. She nearly sucked down water in a gasp.

She could see!

Squinting underwater, the froth diminished and she saw a slender tube beneath the surface. The current pushed her toward it. She catapulted from the tube into another, larger body of water. Glimpses of white, like neon shadows, darted in and around the speckled darkness. Sheer fabric swayed, material spun. Syrena grew dizzy watching these unknown creatures zip by.

The entities draped in white drew closer, as they frolicked in the still swift current. One approached in a playful manner.

Syrena jerked back, startled, almost choking. The aquatic face followed within inches, and then closer, as if nose-to-nose with her. But she didn’t sense danger. In fact, the creature possessed a peaceful countenance.

The entity beamed with such beauty. Syrena couldn’t help herself and she smiled in return, forgetting the need to breathe. Lost in gentle expressions, she danced with the beings by holding their hands, swinging arms, and batting legs gracefully. Together they moved up, down, sideways, forward, and back. Somehow, they lost the current and for a moment Syrena was suspended in a pool illuminated by faint light. The radiance increased. Dazzled, she glanced above and made way—as best as a non-swimmer could do—toward the growing luminosity.

Reaching for a distant bright star winking at her from the sky, Syrena swallowed a huge sum of air as she popped from the surface. But then all went black again. Blind.

“No,” she pleaded to no one. “I want to see. That world is so lovely . . .” She inhaled and went under.

White foam, in the form of many arms, surged and kept her in a protective sphere. From the center of a tributary she pitched over a fall, yet the protective arms sustained her. Past boulders she swirled in pirouettes, dancing in circles, while journeying down a sea river passage.

Over another soaring fall, she submerged again. The entities stirred and then moved, slow and deliberate. Syrena grabbed a hold of the body of a manatee that gracefully escorted her from the sea river’s mouth to a natural saltwater quay. But she didn’t want to get out.

The entities tried to push her out of the deep onto the jetty. Though they moved with urgency now, propelling her, she fought them until the beings finally disappeared. Without their help, she began to sink to the bottom. The more she flailed, the faster she descended.

In a twist, she came face-to-face with a man. He steadied her with his arms, then opened his mouth and covered hers. With a deep kiss, her first, he blew warm breath into her lungs. The experience, his touch, was like having life renewed.

He stared at her then he covered her mouth again, only this time it was nothing more than a kiss—stolen by this strange man with greenish hair . . . who kissed in a way that made her skin swelter even underwater.

Syrena gaped at him, there, while in his arms. They lingered in the deep, twisting together in circles, until she felt the scales of a large fish tail wrapping around her legs. That’s when she noticed his bottom half.