Page 19 of Song of Lorelei

Nireed shrugged. “I’m not mad.”

Lorelei cleared her throat. “Anyway, moving on. Before we get started with lessons, there was something I wanted to ask you.” She told Nireed about the merfolk that stormed Killian’s boat, and how they gobbled up most of the canned meat that was meant for the whole community. “I thought some might be kin of yours, coming to look for you. Is there some kind of message I can pass along to ease their worry?”

An emotion that looked strangely like guilt flashed across the siren’s face. “Yes, Shorewalker. This sounds like my older sister, Aersila. She has challenged Undine many times. Undine sending me to shore would make her very angry. I did not say good-bye, so Aersila would not know it was my choice, too.”

Was it really Nireed’s choice? A gullible younger sister could easily be swayed by an authority figure, perhaps touting a romanticized picture of adventure, and the alluring promise of returning home a heroine of her people. But Nireed didn’t really strike Lorelei as gullible, or like she went into this research situation with her eyes closed. Not after their last conversation. She had just seemed so young and vulnerable when they first met, but now Lorelei rather thought the siren wise beyond her years. And not someone to be trifled with.

“Teach your Two-Legger mate these signs. They should make Aersila stop.” Nireed finger spelled E-M-E-R-A and opened her palm to make a waving motion with her hand like a fish’s tail. Then she alternated clasping her hands one way and then another, finishing with her palms flat and separating them in a downwards motion.

Lorelei repeated the signs until she got each right. “What does it mean?”

“My family’s name sign. And the sign for peace.”

Touching her chin with her fingertips, Lorelei lowered her hand toward Nireed. More than usual, her knuckles were swollen and red. As Lorelei reached into her purse for lotion, Nireed pointed to the dry, cracking skin on her hands. “Shorewalker, when did you last swim?” Her tone was stern and…

Mothering?

Lorelei looked up in surprise. “I don’t know. Sometime last year before we brought you to shore.”

Nireed gaped. But the siren’s reaction lasted for only a moment before it sharpened into anger. “Why?” she hissed, slapping the tabletop beside them. Lorelei jumped in her seat and watched as Nireed signed along with her next words. “What I would give to…Why would you do this?” The siren threw up her hands in frustration and gestured emphatically to the ocean just a wall and rocky shore away.

Lorelei stammered, “Well, I…” She wrung her hands, unsure how to tell the siren how wrong and selfish and dangerous it would be for her to do so.

Narrowing her eyes, Nireed leaned forward, so close their noses almost touched. Lorelei froze. This had never happened before, but some siren instinct told her it wasn’t a threat, but rather a demand that she listen, and listen closely, because what was said next was important. The passing of old wisdom or a harsh truth.

“You are killing yourself with guilt.” Nireed enunciated slowly and clearly. Each word smacked Lorelei’s face with the gust of warm breath—fishy and steeped in ocean brine and just a hint of medicinal from the cough drops she’d eaten earlier. To a human, it would be repulsive, but, to Lorelei, it reminded her of home.

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to take the siren’s piercing gaze any longer.

Grasping her roughly by the chin, Nireed growled. “Look at me, Shorewalker.” Lorelei’s eyes snapped open, tears escaping down her cheeks. “You are no good to me dead.”

“It’s unpleasant, but it’s not killing me…”

Letting her go, Nireed made the sign for lungs. “They will go next. And you will choke on air. There are stories about this, passed down to us by our foremothers, of those that go to shore and don’t come back.”

Lorelei sat back in her chair, touching her fingers to her throat. Memory of Nireed’s rasping coughs echoed. Was the next step respiratory failure? “Are we killing you?”

Folding her arms across her chest, Nireed sat back, as well, with a stubborn expression. “Not yet.”

“Will you tell me if it gets bad?”

“Yes. It is best for all that I live.”

Examining Nireed’s pale grey complexion, Lorelei decided that waiting until Nireed got bad was far too late. She picked up her phone and texted Lila that she needed help organizing a field trip.

Chapter Nine

KILLIAN

Removing the tarp from his grill, Killian wheeled it out into the yard. The family group chat was blowing up with plans for a spontaneous cookout at his place—a cover for the last-minute mermaid swim at his private beach. He didn’t mind one bit. While he was nervous about having a strange siren near his home and the people he loved, it was great news for Lorelei. The wretched state of her tail must have been a wake-up call. And one she sorely needed.

Retrieving a plastic fold out picnic table from the barn, Killian marveled at how quickly Walsh, Marci, Lila, and Branson all jumped in on the plan—to give Lorelei some peace of mind as her eyes and ears on land. It wasn’t that it surprised him, but rather how fate deemed him lucky enough to have them.

Marci and Walsh arrived first with enough homemade mac n’ cheese and potato salad to feed an army. He brushed off his hands and ushered them inside. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Nonsense.” Marci slid off her wicker sandals by the doorway and padded across the room to the kitchen, long dress swishing about brown ankles in alternate vertical lines of gold, orange, red, and blue. She must have just had her twists redone, because the last time he’d seen her, she was wearing her hair proudly in its natural halo. Marci placed a large cellophane-wrapped glass bowl on the counter, followed by Walsh with the baking dish. “What kind of guests would we be if we showed up empty-handed to a cook-out?”

Killian rubbed the back of his neck. “True, but a last minute one?”

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