Page 64 of Wicked Tides
She leaned up against the wall and then slid her back all the way down until she was sitting on the floor.
“They are from the darkest depths where Akareth resides. He is the father of all sirens, if you believe such things.”
“Do you not?”
“I’ve never seen him,” she shrugged. “Just as your people worship a god who’s never shown himself, my people serve a god who keeps to the shadows. His whispers are all we have.”
I swiped a bottle of rum from the table and popped off the cork, letting it bounce to the floor. “How’s that work exactly?”
“He calls us to the depths. No one knows how until they’ve felt the impulse to dive deep into the abyss. If we do not go, we are taken.”
“By the xhoth.”
She nodded once.
“And what happens in the depths?”
She shrugged again, watching as I brought the bottle to my lips and took a swig.
“I don’t know. Nobody knows for certain. Even those that have returned are too broken to say.Ifthey come back, they are with child and have seen the wickedness of the dark. Matrons, we call them. If a matron returns, always a cluster of daughters is born and a matron will return to the father every season to bear more. If one of us does not come back… well… they are lost. Some say the lost ones have been chosen to bear sons rather than return. Others say they are forced to bear daughters for the taking. When they can bear no more, they are devoured, ever feeding our great, horrible creator.”
I paused a moment, letting her words sink in.
“Is that why you all call each other ‘sisters’?”
She stared, remaining silent, but I could see the truth in her eyes.
“Have you ever been called to the depths?” I continued.
The corner of her mouth slanted upward and she huffed like the idea was absurd.
“I have not.”
“Why’s that?”
“Perhaps I am not worthy. If our father sees all, he surely saw the moment I stupidly freed a boy and betrayed my people. If I am ever taken before him, I will not be returning.”
“Do you want to be worthy?”
“I want to kill you,” she said flatly, her expression unchanged. “Do not mistake my cooperation as a desire to help you. If the sons came upon this ship, I’d relish the sight of them tearing you apart. I would simply regret being in the middle.”
“So why give me this information?”
“Because it doesn’t matter. Write as much of it as you please in your leather sketchbook. It won’t change anything.”
My lips quirked into a half-smile because if nothing else, she was honest.
Like me.
Two mirror images of each other were a dangerous pair.
“No matter. It’s clear that the sons and your sisters do not like you,” I mocked. “So where do you have to go, Dahlia? You have but one sister left who loves you, if you even value such a thing. Am I wrong?”
Her face remained languid as if my words weren’t affecting her, but I knew they were. Things affected her the same as they affected me. If they didn’t, she would not have committed her life to avenging her fallen family.
I stood from my chair and slowly made my way toward her, the bottle hanging loosely in my hand. She held my eyes as she stood, her sharp and tainted soul peering back through the chasm of her stare.
“I’ve come to realize something that I’m sure you already know,” I said. “Something you hate to admit. Something that’s eating you alive inside.” She waited as I took another slow drink from my rum bottle. “This ship—with my men and with me—is the safest place you can be right now and that’s why you have not killed anyone yet, as much as it’s eating you alive. I think it does matter that you gave me so much information and I think it matters because you want protection. And you know I can give it.”
