Page 10 of A Song of Death and Desire

As to the last question, I have no idea. Will he remember? Will he realize what I am? Would he tell anyone? These are the questions that keep me awake and push me to continue going to land. I need to know what this pull is and if my family is in danger. Because if he has told anyone what happened that day, then we are all in trouble, and it is my job to fix it.

“I can handle it, Raidne. You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine,” I tell her, trying to exude more confidence than I feel and plastering a smile on my face.

“Hmm,” she says, and I know she doesn’t believe me. Raidne knows me better than I know myself and she usually calls me on my bullshit. The fact that she doesn’t today makes me think that she really is concerned about me. “I miss you,” she whispers and guilt churns in my gut. We've never kept secrets from each other,and it feels morally wrong to do so now. I know it hurts her to see me wasting away with no understanding of why. All I want to do is tell her everything, pour out my secret, and beg her to help—but the urge to protect her is stronger. I don’t want her involved in this situation until I know more about it. I tell myself I'll let her know what's going on once I have more information myself.

I wrap her in my arms, holding her in a brief hug, and promise her that I'll be around more despite not knowing if I'm going to be able to keep that promise. She huffs and pushes me away playfully, “You better, Kai, because the others are driving me crazy, and I’m having to break up arguments all the time, and you know how much I hate having to do that.” I laugh, and she seems placated, at least for now.

I wait a little while, stewing in my thoughts, until I'm mostly certain that Raidne has had enough time to find something else to occupy herself with. I then slip away, swimming in the direction of my cove, the small stretch of beach littered with large rocks that provide shelter and a place to shift in secret. I’m desperate to lay eyes on the man who is the center of all my thoughts. Hurrying to shift and dress despite my waning energy, it's not long before I'm walking into town. Pain lingers after I’ve taken my human form. A tingling sensation with small zaps of pain normally accompanies the shift. Nothing too excruciating, and it’s over after my legs have fully formed. This time, however, that pain doesn’t subside. The zaps continue as I walk on shaky legs, and I have an ache in my bones that I have never experienced. I don’t know how much longer I have until I’ll be forced to consume another soul. The thought makes me sick.

I've been coming into town every few days for a few weeks now and I'm yet to come across the man. Each time, I return to the ocean more disheartened and worried that I'll never find him. That I’ll never see him again. The yearning and emptiness I feel in my chest sometimes becomes more than I can bear.

I know nothing about the man. Witches Cove is a relatively small town, but maybe he doesn't live here. Maybe he was visiting friends. Maybe he was here on vacation and lives across the country. I have no fucking clue! I have no information to go on and it's getting harder and harder to avoid the hopelessness threatening to pull me under.

I spend the early hours of the morning wandering aimlessly around the town, trying to remain mostly inconspicuous. Hanging around too much has caused me problems in the past. There is a certain familiarity that comes with small towns. Everyone knows everyone. So, I stand out. Normally, I'm able to brush people off by telling them I'm just passing through or visiting someone. If anyone questions me too much, I'll use my song to make them forget. I wouldn't say I like doing this too much though. Despite it being my nature, I often feel guilty using my song too often, and I certainly don’t enjoy using it to bend free will. This is why I usually select willing men for my conquests. My song is another reminder that I am not human. That no matter how hard I try, I am different and will never be one of them.

Raised voices grab my attention, and I turn to see where they are coming from. My heart stutters, and I suck in a gasp of air. It's him. Oh, my goddess, it's really him. My heart beats a frantic rhythm, my hands shake, and I feel like my stomach is going to fall out my ass. I've never been so nervous in all my life. The man walks next to a woman quite a bit shorter than him. She's brunette, with curly hair, and curvy hips. She's beautiful and I'm jealous as hell. I can't quite make out what they are saying, but they are arguing about something.

They walk into a nearby coffee shop, and I follow. I’m scared that he will see me, but fortunately, it's getting close to the lunch rush, so it's busy, which will hopefully aid me in remaining unseen. The man and woman sit at a table in the corner, andI purposely situate myself within hearing distance but behind him. I hope he doesn’t turn around. I don’t know what he remembers about that day.

“You can't keep missing days of work, Eagan,” the woman exclaims. “You're lucky Tom is a friend. If you were anyone else, he would be firing your ass. You need this job. We need this job. I know you’ve got some of your dad's money tucked away for a rainy day, but I also know that you love your job. In the years I've known you, you have barely missed a day of work, but lately, you've been missing more days than you've been going. And to top it all off you haven't even been calling to let Tom know. This isn't you, baby.”

“I've told you; I don't mean to miss work. I just…” He trails off, his fingers pulling strands of his hair in apparent agitation. “I just need to find out what's going on. I need to know what happened to the boat and my friends.”

“It was an accident. A vicious storm. There aren't any answers to find,” she replies in a softer voice.

My eavesdropping is interrupted by a waitress arriving to take my order, who is none too pleased that all I ask for is water. With a huff and a glare, she saunters off, leaving me to my casual stalking. My desire to know more outweighs the discomfort of listening in on a very private and serious conversation.

The two are sitting in silence now. Even from tables away, I can feel the tension radiating from them. A waitress brings them both a coffee in a takeaway cup. I guess they aren’t planning to stay. Probably a good thing because they don’t seem to be happy with each other.

“I’m worried about you, Eagan,” the woman says, breaking the silence. “You haven’t been yourself lately. You’re distracted, angry, and you’ve been mean. You’re pulling away from me, and I don’t know how I can help you. You’ve never been cruel to me like this. I understand that the accident was traumatic, andI know you have anxiety as a result. Even if you refuse to admit it,” she admonishes, holding a hand up when he tries to interject. “But having problems with your mental health, no matter how valid, does not give you the right to treat me like crap. I’m going to wander around the shops for a little while. Alone. I’ll catch a rideshare or walk home when I’m ready and meet you there.”

She picks up her coffee and leaves. The man I now know to be Eagan is left alone, looking at the door she walked through. I can’t see his face to know how he is feeling about their conversation. Moments later, he too, rises and leaves. I scramble to my feet and follow him out. I don’t know why I am so paranoid about him seeing me. He shouldn’t remember me, as our song normally creates amnesia. But I am worried that my presence may bring back his memories and then the subsequent questions. Unfortunately, in the seconds it takes me to maneuver myself out of the coffee shop, I manage to lose him.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself.

But I saw him.

I know his name.

Eagan.

I’m filled with yearning for a man I don’t know, and it makes absolutely zero sense. I have never heard of a siren becoming obsessed with a human. It’s always the other way around. We draw them in, use them for whatever we need, their body, their flesh, their soul, and then discard what’s left. But what I feel seems an awful lot like obsession. It rages like an inferno, burning away all rational thought. All that remains is his deep blue eyes. And now his name.

Eagan.

Eagan.

Chapter 10

After my disastrous coffee date with Kelly, I walk around aimlessly. I feel lost. I should go home, but the idea of returning to the silence where the only thing I can hear is the song in my head makes me nauseous. When I’m amongst people, the noise of the busy streets, I can almost tune out the repetitive melody. Not completely. But almost. I’m so fucking tired. I haven't slept properly in weeks, but it’s getting worse. Kelly was right. I have been snapping at her about every little thing and often being unnecessarily mean. I don’t have a good explanation for why I’ve been like this lately. The obvious answer would be that I’m tired and possibly mentally unwell, but that doesn’t feel like all that’s going on with me.

The mood swings are uncontrollable—one minute, I’m finding it impossible to find a single shred of energy to care about anything and the next, I’m flying into a rage. I’ve never seenKelly look at me the way she has been lately—like she is afraid of me. When I’m capable of emotions, the guilt is crushing, but then that fades away, too.

I’ve become obsessed with finding out what happened that day. Some of my memories are returning, and I can’t help but think that the tune I hear is somehow related to what led to the disappearance of my friends. I remember the lead-up to the storm, what I told Kelly and the police officers who questioned me. But now I’m also starting to remember that we jumped overboard. Why would we do that? That’s the part I can’t figure out. The boat was still intact when we jumped so why would we leave a functioning boat? Once we were in the water, it’s possible that the others succumbed to the harsh conditions. Perhaps the tides, the crashing waves, and the relentless pull to the bottom of the ocean bested them. It’s realistic to think that the chances of them surviving in the ocean in a raging, violent storm were slim.

My memories bring some answers but so many more questions. I can rationalize how they may have died or disappeared but still don’t know how we ended up in the water. I’m also not sure how I ended up on the beach but again, logically, I’m aware that I must have just been very lucky. I’m a reasonably strong swimmer. Maybe my survival instincts kicked in and I was able to swim to safety, although not completely unscathed. Through all the memories, one thing remains constant. And that’s the god damned song.

I’m surprised to find myself on the beach, having walked there while completely distracted by my musings. I haven’t been near the ocean since the accident, but it’s been calling to me. I dream of the ocean every night, often waking up in a panicked sweat, taking minutes to calm myself back down. And now, while moving in autopilot I ended up here, faced with the very thing I’m now most afraid of.

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