Page 3 of Song of Lorelei

“Whoa, easy there, Ian. You can put that down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Captain, we gotta keep these engines off,” Ian pleaded. “They’re too loud.”

“Okay, no problem. I just need you to look at me, listen to the sound of my voice, and set the weight down. Can you do that for me, Ian?”

The kid’s eyes remained glassy, but he lowered his arm.

Killian licked his lips nervously. He needed to get to the console asap, but he didn’t want to hurt the kid to get to it, if he didn’t have to. “That’s it. Good. Now can you take a step toward me?” He gestured the kid forward.

Ian planted his feet and shook his head.

Somewhere behind Killian, Branson grumbled under his breath and brushed past him. Ian swung the paperweight at the lead deckhand’s head as he approached, but Branson blocked his wrist and socked the kid right in the face. The paperweight clattered to the floor, and Ian followed, knocked out cold. Stepping over him, Branson reached for the controls, blood trickling from his busted knuckles.

“Did he—?” Branson swore, slamming his palm on top of the console. “He broke the key in the ignition.”

Cries of panic erupted over the comms. “Cap! They’re swimming for the boat!”

“Get below now,” Killian barked, dashing outside. He silently cursed the siren’s supernatural swim speeds.

In just a matter of seconds, they were scaling the side of his boat.

“Hurry, man! Hurry!” a crew member yelled.

The whole lot of them were bottlenecked at the stairs. Walt took up the back of the line with a crowbar in his hands, his face a mask of fierce resignation. He would defend the crew until his last breath, if need be, but the old man wouldn’t stand a chance. None of them would.

Pulling a gun from his hip holster, which he’d bought for emergencies exactly like this, Killian fired a warning shot into the air.

The sirens hunkered down and shrieked. If it weren’t for the headset he wore, his own ears would be ringing right now.

Please let that be enough to scare them away.

The sirens shook their heads, flinging water from strands of sea-soaked hair. When the shaking stopped, seven pairs of eyes locked on the last of his crew, funneling through the door.

They kept climbing.

Oh, hell no.

Killian fired another shot and trained his gun on the nearest one—a dark-haired creature with amber eyes and silvery scales streaked with orange.

Pressing her ear to her shoulder, she glared at him and hissed. But her gaze didn’t stray to the rest of the crew. Message received…he hoped. While he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot, doing so probably wouldn’t bode well for future fishing expeditions. And what would Lorelei think? All her peacemaking efforts swallowed whole.

He swiped his brow with the back of his arm to keep the sweat from burning his eyes.

One by one, seven sirens slinked over the side, one scaled leg after the other. Their claws clicked against the metal as they walked on all fours across the deck toward the abandoned crates. They tore into the canned pork, ripping apart the aluminum tins and cramming the meat into their mouths, canning juices running down their chins.

Bile rose at the back of Killian’s throat. He looked away before he spewed his lunch all over the deck.

At least it wasn’t his crew they feasted on.

A door slammed shut beneath Killian, the vibration from the door’s swing coursing through his boots. Every siren on board jumped, hackles raised. He prayed they didn’t rush the door and try to batter their way in, but they returned to their meal with little more than a few dirty looks cast in his direction.

“We’re all in,” Walt radioed. “Get yourself back into the pilot house and bar the door.”

Killian exhaled. “We’re good. They’re just chowing down on deck. I’m gonna stick around and make sure they leave.”

The radio fell silent, long enough that Killian didn’t think he would respond, but the old fisherman replied in a soft voice, “Be careful, son.”

He would wait until they had their fill before attempting to shoo them away. Best not get between them and one of their favorite meals. He wasn’t about to present himself as dessert.

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