My Sisters in Death (Siren Suicides, Book 2)

Chapter 14. Along The Boulevard

In the space of half of a second, I'm split in two. Part of me wants to lodge underwater, soothe my aching gills, and become one with the world of songs, sirens, soul sucking, and all things morbid that come with being a predator. I want to buy into this illusion of divine existence, however perverted it sounds. I want to be a part of my siren family. It feels easy to give in, to define Hunter as my enemy and no more. To define people as food. To forget about my father. Yet, another part of me yearns for air, for the dreamy uncertainty of living, loving, and feeling—that amateur orchestra called life. In it, soul or no soul, Hunter is my star, the most skilled concertmaster, subordinate only to the conductor. But, exactly how will we be able to coexist like this? I watch his face, beckoning me to squash it and achingly loveable at the same time.

An ethereal bridge forms between us, a trajectory of a question asked with my eyes. The sirens lunge through the lake's underbelly in a burst of excitement, flapping their feet as they advance toward us. I'm sure Canosa wants revenge for me not saving her, for her nearly dying. I have to decide, I have to do something.

But what about Papa...I gaze into the darkness of the woods, hoping to see beyond, to believe that maybe, by some miracle, he has escaped. I wish I could just take a torch and extract this naïve love I have for my father, watch it burn and scream and sizzle. Angry tears burst their way through, spilling quickly down my cheeks, before I have time to wipe them off.

The lake bristles and stretches its toothless smile into a series of waves. The boat shakes and brings me out of my stupor. "What did you say?" I notice that Hunter was talking and is waiting for me to respond.

"I said, it took them a while." I detect nervous notes in his voice. "Looks like the hunt is on. That's good news, I suppose, right? Never a dull moment." He raises his eyebrows at me and waves his hand in this gesture of could-you-speed-up-a-little. "Do you mind?" At this, he lifts his legs, turns on his butt half a circle, plops his feet on the boat's bottom with a splash, picks up the oars, and begins rowing like mad. The boat jerks into motion and I nearly fall forward.

None of this fully registers in my mind. I don't really hear him, distracted again. "Canosa's alive, did you see that? That means my father's gone for sure," I say, mostly to hear it and taste the sound of it, to try it on. It feels horrible, and guilt washes over me. "Hunter, what have I done? I shouldn't have left him like that. I should've fought for him. I could've saved him, but I ran away like a coward. I could've—"

"Would you mind?" He drops the right oar, turns his head back to look at me, and motions impatiently, twirling his hand again, before returning to his rowing. He bends forward, falls back, pivots the oars, and lets them screech in their rusty rowlocks.

"What?" I ask, disoriented.

"Hum, please. They'll be here any minute—your femme fatale friends from the deep realm of the glorious Lake Washington, don't you get that? I, for one, have no interest in meeting them one more time. So, can you go?" he says, without turning his head. A forced pleasantness rips thin over his irritation.

"Did you hear what I said?" I try.

"I did. I heard you, Ailen."

"So? What do you think?"

"So!" He drops both oars and twists around to face me. I've never seen his face contorted with fury quite like now. "You're his daughter! But you know what? He'd kill you in a heartbeat. So why would you feel obligated to help him when he's hated you your entire life? He's a fucking asshole, all right?" He is breathing hard.

I blink.

"Look, I'm sorry, but can we talk about this some other time?" He slides back into position, picks up the oars, and dips them into the lake once more. Splish-splash, splish-splash.