Emerge (16 page)

“Aurelia? Are you back there?”

My mother’s voice causes me to jump, and the small shell slips from my grasp.

I dive forward as it hurtles toward the ground. That
konklili
might be the only record of the information I need. I can’t risk it smashing.

My hand shoots out right as the fragile shell record is about to hit the hard ground. When it hits my upturned palm instead, I let out an audible sigh. Of course, my mother picks that moment to round the corner. She finds me lying on my stomach, clutching an old, rare
konklili
.

“Are you all right?” Her eyes scan the floor. “Did something break?”

“Everything’s fine, Mom,” I say, hurrying to my feet.

“You know,” my mother says, “some of the shells in here are irreplaceable. Maybe it would be more fun for you to work with your father in the P.R. department after all.”

“No! You just scared me, that’s all. I’m being super careful.”

“Clearly.”

I can’t let my mom reassign me. “These shells need to be categorized, and it’s not like anyone else is swimming up for the job.” I don’t mention that I’ve gotten exactly zero sorting done today. Hopefully, she’ll be too busy with her own work to check.

My mother must know I’m right because all she says is, “Finish up and get your things together. Emeraldine is done for today, so she’ll drive you home.”

I won’t have time to listen to the last shell. I stare at it. Not only is it the property of the Foundation, it’s classified information on a restricted topic. Taking it out of this room is illegal.

Once my mother turns her back, I slip it into my backpack.

The stolen brown shell rests in the palm of my hand. I sit huddled in my walk-in closet with my bedroom door closed and homework spread out on my bed in case someone checks on me. Taking a deep breath, I press the
konklili
to my ear.

“
Origin of the Siren
.”

I gasp at the title. This entire
konklili
is about sirens? Sure, it’s small, but it still must have more useful information than the other two recordings combined. The speaker offers some general info. While she explains that most sirens were women because the victims of sireny were usually sailors and dock workers (positions historically filled by males), I grab a notepad and pen from my desk, then return to the closet, ready to take notes. I’m soon listening to the story of a Mermaid who, according to legend, became the first siren.

“Himeropa enjoyed what by all accounts was a peaceful, idyllic childhood with her family in the waters near Paestum, found in the human region of south-western Italy. In those ancient days, when Mer were known to humans, our kind often enjoyed surfacing on remote islands to soak up the sunlight, sample delicacies like lizard or turtle, and study the vastness of the sky. Beginning in their teens, Himeropa and her sisters Peisinoe, Thelxiepeia, and Agalope frequented an island where they did just that. The island was also a mating and nesting site for seabirds. Fascinated by these winged creatures, the girls spent many hours feeding and training them. It is said that Peisinoe even made siluesses from their feathers for herself and her sisters to wear while on the island.”

Siluesses
out of bird feathers? That sounds unhygienic to me, not to mention uncomfortable. I listen with increasing boredom as the voice in my ear describes the various tricks the sisters taught the birds. I need to learn about their sireny, not their penchant for feathered headdresses.

“Because the girls spent so much time above water, as a precaution, their mother taught them songs they could use to distract humans in case they encountered any.”

Songs! I’m back at attention.

“Like many parents before her, the mother instructed her girls to stun any humans they might meet with the captivating music, then escape back to the safety of the oceans. One fateful day, the sisters needed to use these songs.
A group of sailors whose ship was anchored nearby swam to the island.”

I bite my lip as the recording details how the sailors found Agalope, the youngest of the sisters, asleep in the sun and attacked her. Luckily, her sisters were nearby and heard her screams. They sang the songs their mother had taught them and Thelxiepeia and Peisinoe escaped with Agalope into the waves. But Himeropa, overcome with fear for her sister and rage at the sailors, kept singing. She poured all her emotion into her song, and it grew more powerful than ever before. Instead of stunning the sailors, the song brought them under Himeropa’s command. In her anger, she screamed for their deaths, and each one of them jumped off the island’s cliffs to a watery grave.

“This is the first recorded instance of the crime of sireny. Unfortunately, it failed to slake Himeropa’s thirst for vengeance. She blamed all humans for the attack on her sister and practiced her newfound power on any human who happened by. She learned to channel her emotions into her songs as she had done with her anger that first day, and she taught her sisters to do the same.

“Soon, the sisters took to luring sailors from passing ships with their songs. Enchanted by the music, sailors would sail their vessels straight into the rocks off the coast of the island. Most drowned, but those who swam to shore were tortured by the sirens. It is worthy of note that Himeropa, Peisinoe, Thelxiepeia, and Agalope continued to bedeck themselves in the feathers of the birds that nested on the island and allowed these trained birds to perch on their shoulders and heads while they sang. Thus, they were usually mistaken by sailors who passed at a distance as bird women, an erroneous image which permeates references to sirens in human literature. Those who got close enough to see the sirens’ true form did not often survive to tell the tale.”

When I read
The Odyssey
in school last year, I came home mega confused. Sirens as birds? I don’t think so. My mother explained it away as an early mistake made by humans. She said Mer perpetuated it to keep ourselves from being associated with sirens whenever we could. Now I know the whole story.

“Several historical sources go so far as to suggest that Himeropa, who like all Mer at the time was immortal, continued to develop her powers and was in fact the very same Sea Sorceress the Little Mermaid sought out. If this is so, then she was responsible not only for the torment and death of countless mortals, but also for creating the magic the Little Mermaid misused to curse us all.”

After finishing the legend of the sister sirens, the shell discusses the spread of sireny and repeats many of the same facts from the other two
konklilis
. The smooth female voice in the shell is at odds with the horrifying stories it intones. I force myself to hear every gruesome detail, listening for anything about stopping sirens, but nothing comes. That night, nightmares slither into my sleep, and I wake up with an image burning behind my eyes: Clay, his tongue ripped out by a sharp-beaked bird creature with a coral-colored tail.

The picture doesn’t look right. I straighten it before the glue sets. Perfect.

“So, I guess we’re done,” Clay says.

“We should run through the oral presentation one more time the night before, but yeah, I guess we are.”

When I turn away from the poster board, Clay is frowning.

“What’s wrong? Is something still crooked?”

“No, the board looks great. It’s just now that the project’s finished, you might ice me out again.” He says it jokingly, but guilt nags at me.

“I never iced you out,” I insist. I did, and we both know it, but since I can’t explain my very good reason, my only course of action is denial.

“So then, you’ll keep coming over to hang out now that the project’s done?” His smile is devilish. I swam right into that one. It makes me smile, too.

All this week, I’ve been worrying about what excuses I could use to continue keeping an eye on Clay once we finished our report. After countless hours in the records room at the Foundation, I still haven’t found anything that even hints at a way to stop Melusine, so there isn’t anything I can do for Clay, but I can’t just abandon him while I’m searching.

“You don’t think your girlfriend will mind if I keep coming over twice a week?” My tone is light, my question serious.

“Well, the project’s not due for a while … maybe we just don’t mention we’re finished.”

“You can lie to her? I mean,” I quickly cover, “you feel okay about that?” I didn’t think someone under a siren’s spell could lie to the siren.

Creases line his forehead. “It’s not like you and I are doing anything wrong. I’m just not sure that Mel would understand that we’re … friends.”

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t feel right about coming between two people in a relationship. But when one of those people is using ancient ocean magic to control the other, I figure the typical rules of propriety don’t apply.

He sighs. “It just took you and me so long to get to this place, and I don’t want anything to mess things up again.”

Seeing the honest, open expression on Clay’s face makes me feel justified for putting his phone on silent while he was in the bathroom. I’m sure Melusine made her daily afterschool phone call, but since Clay didn’t hear it, he’s more himself than usual.

His mental clarity will be short-lived. Eventually, he’ll see his missed calls and call her back. So, I intend to make the most of this time I have with him—with the real him.

I turn my gaze back to him, and I’m caught off guard. The sun streaming in from his bedroom window highlights the angles of his face, outlining his jaw and brightening the green in his hazel eyes. No, I can’t get distracted. I need to use this time to make sure Mel isn’t hurting him.

“So, why don’t you think Mel would understand? Is she super controlling or something?” There, that was subtle.

“Not exactly. I just can’t seem to say no to her.” He shakes his head, confused. “I guess it’s because I want to make her happy?”

No, it’s because you don’t have a choice.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m afraid that if she told me not to spend time with you, not to be your friend, I might listen to her.” As if realizing how that sounds, he holds up a hand. “Lia, please don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not like I’d want to. I just … would.” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration and lets out a pained sigh. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

As Clay struggles with his muddled thoughts, I want to reach out to him. To take his hand and explain what’s been done to him. But I can’t. Not only would he think I’m crazy, but if he mentioned it to Melusine, it could put both of us in who knows how much more danger. Instead, I say, “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything about finishing the project. It can be our secret.”

“But why does her opinion matter so much to me, Lia?” Anguish suffuses his voice and stabs into me. “I know she’s my girlfriend, but it shouldn’t be all about her all the time, right?”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

“It’s like the other day. After I talked to you about how I haven’t played the guitar in front of anyone since my dad stopped coming to watch me, I realized I should try to share that with someone again. And I thought, Mel’s my girlfriend and this is important to me, so I should share it with her.”

For Clay’s sake, I stifle the immediate spike of envy threatening to overtake me, and make my words as encouraging as I can. “Wow, it’s really great you wanted to open up like that.” It’s a big step for Clay.

“But that’s just it!” He’s risen from his chair and he’s pacing the room. “She wasn’t even interested. I’d barely played a few bars before she took the guitar out of my hands, started kissing me, and—” He must remember he’s talking to me because he cuts off the description. I’m probably blushing, and I want to turn my head to the side to cover it, but I don’t. Clay needs me right now, so I keep my gaze fixed on him. “She didn’t even want to hear it. She sings to me all the time, but the first time I want to share my music with her … ” He sinks onto the bed, like he’s emotionally exhausted by his own outburst. “She didn’t even care.”

When he looks at me, his eyes are pleading—desperate for me to understand.