My Sisters in Death (Siren Suicides, Book 2)

Chapter 15. Fremont Canal

It was an early morning, still covered in darkness. My mother walked me to the school bus stop, it must have been winter. It was raining. I didn't like the rain and complained loudly, but mom said it was really sugar water because the clouds are really cotton candy. If I didn't believe her, she said I should try catching a drop and tasting it for myself. I looked at her in disbelief, but then my childish curiosity won and I stuck out my tongue. Mom did the same. So we stood there, waiting, catching raindrops and swallowing. I didn't detect much sugar, but it did taste sort of sweetish, maybe in a wishful sort of way. I dropped my coat's hood and opened my face to the rain, catching it. Those ten minutes before the bus arrived flew by in a glow of happiness and laughter, one of my few dips into exquisite treasure; a rare moment of love that transpired between us, etched forever into my memory before being tucked away, pushed deeply inside. Until it decided to float up and bother me with its utter affection and beauty, as it does now, ripping me apart. I wish it would stay where it was—in the dark corners of my forgotten memories.

I notice I stopped humming and the rowboat stopped moving. By some fate, or perhaps automatically, I ended up guiding us directly to the spot where my mother must have hit the water when she jumped, underneath the Aurora Bridge, across from the Fremont Bridge where Lake Union flows into the narrow canal that cuts through Fremont.

I pull myself up on the bench and turn around. My first impulse is to look for Papa's boat. Of course, it's not there, and I quickly glance away.

"Why did you stop?" Hunter eyes me quizzically, and then turns to survey the Burke-Gilman Trail and beyond, in the direction of his street. I know what he's thinking. He longs to go see his mother; it would be only a ten minute walk from here if we moored.

"You want to lead them to my house? No fucking way. Come on...let's get moving!" He licks drops raindrops from his lips and passes a hand through his wet hair. His gray hoodie is soaking again, nearly black in the faint glow of the street lights from the bridge.

I grin at him, oblivious to his sentiment, still in the throes of my memory with my tongue lolling out like that of a happy dog.

"Got one!" I exclaim, clucking my tongue with delight. The raindrop I caught tastes like sweet water. "Mmm."

"We're, like, being chased right now, and you're catching rain drops?" He slaps his knees and dog-shakes his head, sending spray everywhere. He leans over the boat and loudly blows his nose, wiping his face with his sleeve and sniffing.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Right. You're right. I must have stopped here automatically." I blink, shaking off the vision that's dominating my head.

Back to reality, Ailen, back to reality. You're not six, you're sixteen. Your mother is gone. Your father is...most likely gone, too. And you're dead. Do you hear me? Dead! You're a siren, and your friend here is a siren hunter. You've got two choices: avoid each other or kill each other.

There he is, right in front of me, and all if would take is a simple push, a tug underwater, and then...and then nothing. A siren hunter can't die at the hands of the siren, that's what Canosa said. He can be injured, yes, but his soul would have to be revived first, reignited to life, and then snuffed out of his body.

"So can we..." He twirls his hand, impatiently.

I suppress my desire to strike him and nod, realizing that this fight against my primitive instinct will wear me down sooner or later and I will simply give in when I least expect it. Perhaps the same instinct goes for Hunter.

I gaze into his steady eyes, cold and blue, unwavering. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, his knuckles white from clamping the oars too tightly. I must be right.