Page 20 of Song of Lorelei

Rifling through the utensil drawer for serving spoons, Marci glanced over her shoulder at him with an arched brow. “Manners are manners.”

“Don’t worry, son.” Walsh clapped Killian on the shoulder. “She was already working on it this morning before we got Lila’s text. I think she was planning on sending some over for all you kids. It’s just what moms do.”

“All right, all right. Thank you. Can I get you something to drink? A beer? Lemonade? Iced tea?”

“Lemonade. Gotta have my wits about me.”

Wasn’t that the truth? While Killian trusted Lorelei’s judgement, and the hunger-curbing powers of canned pork, none of them could predict what Nireed would do once she got one whiff of that potent cocktail of real human flesh and salty sea air. An even darker, wheedling thought ate at the back of his mind. Lorelei hadn’t felt the ocean’s touch in almost a year. At least, Nireed had seawater piped into her tank. What if it wasn’t Nireed they had to worry about? But Lorelei?

Killian broke out his noise cancellation headset just in-case and texted Branson to bring more from the boat. Compulsion they had a solution for already. But the rest…He really didn’t want to know what he would do if Lorelei attacked their family.

Branson arrived next. He exited his truck a ball of nervous energy, his hands shaking as he withdrew a box filled with headsets from the backseat.

Killian took the box from him and set it on the picnic table. “You okay?”

Branson swiped his hands through his shoulder-length hair, down from its usual ponytail, before stuffing them into his front pockets. Killian hadn’t seen his friend quite this worked up before. “I’m worried man. I know Lila’s been working with Nireed all this time, and it’s been mostly fine, and it’s probably going to be all right now, too. But sometimes I have to protect her from that big, beautiful scientist brain of hers, you know? She sees something that fascinates her, and she just has to touch it. She forgets that it can bite her. Or… eat her. Those wheels are turning in full force now. She wants to see what reintroducing Nireed to the ‘wild’ is going to be like, and all this ‘behavioral’ stuff with Lorelei…and I just...” He was talking a mile a minute, but he paused, pulling his hands from his pockets. He clenched them like he wanted shake sense into the situation. Or Lila. “That’s my wife, Killian. My mother-in-law, my father-in-law.” He gestured to Killian next. “My best friend. What if something happens?”

Killian slumped against the side of Branson’s truck and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He glanced at the cottage where Marci and Walsh were still inside, prepping ribs and chicken to go on the grill. “I know,” he answered quietly. His gaze fell to his steel-toed boots. “I was just thinking that, too.”

Their phones dinged at the same time.

Killian pulled out his and read out loud the text Lorelei sent to the group chat. “We’ve gorged ourselves on more canned meat than I care to admit and have spent the last ten minutes huffing vinegar. Can’t smell a thing. We’re on our way over.”

Silence hung in the air between them.

“Should I tell her to abort?” His thumb hovered over the screen.

Branson pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. Let them come. They’ve prepared. And I…” His shoulders slumped. He motioned for Killian to follow him around to the back of his truck. “I might have brought a contingency plan. Don’t be pissed.”

Mind racing, Killian followed. Branson dropped the tailgate and hopped up, pulling a blue tarp off a long, narrow black box. Cold dread snaked its way down Killian’s spine, and he clenched his fists. Branson opened the case. “It’s a tranquilizer gun,” he explained, pulling out one of the darts. “Nothing strong. Just enough to daze them… if they lose control.”

Killian folded his arms on top the side of the truck bed and buried his face in the open space. He exhaled. “Jesus, Will. I thought you were about to show me a fucking sniper rifle.”

There was a long pause. “What kind of monster do you think I am?”

Killian looked up. His best friend looked startled. “What else was I supposed to think? How long have you had that thing?”

Branson lifted it out of its case. “Since a bunch of people-eating mermaids climbed onto our boat.”

Killian rubbed a hand over his scruff. He had to hand it to him. A tranquilizer gun was far more humane than the pistol he carried on offshore runs. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He was about to tell Branson he was a genius, when the man opened his trap again.

“Do I have your blessing to shoot your fiancée if she tries to eat me?”

“Give me that.” He swiped the gun out of Branson’s hands. “If anyone’s shooting Lorelei with a tranquilizer, it’s me.” He held out his hand for the darts.

Branson handed them over but said in a dead serious tone. “You say that now. But when you have that thing in your hands, and you’re staring down the barrel at your future wife, you might feel very differently about that. And that’s okay. It shouldn’t be easy. I just want you to know that I’m there for you if you need me, okay?”

Killian nodded curtly. He loaded the gun, and when his friend wasn’t looking, hid it behind the grill.

* * *

He’d just got the grill going when Lorelei and Lila arrived, helping Nireed out of the car. The siren clutched her stomach, looking rather green about the gills. Her nauseous fish out-of-water look was punctuated by all her head tilting and swiveling.

The motions reminded Killian of a cat—scoping out its surroundings, always on alert. She’d been dressed in a navy-blue sweatsuit with the Haven Cove Marine Research Center’s logo printed in white on the chest and pants pocket. On her feet were Lorelei’s gym shoes.

Wobbly-legged like a newborn deer, Nireed needed Lorelei and Lila’s help walking up the driveway and into the yard. They each took her by an elbow. Seeing the siren like that, queasy from the car ride and still learning how to walk, it was hard to think of her as threatening.

The mermaid brightened at the sight of the ocean.

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