The Afterlife (Siren Suicides, Book 3)

Chapter 17. Nisqually Valley

A curtain of battle-lust blots out my mind. Somewhere, behind it, leftover morals and a sense of what's right are nagging at me, wanting me to stop. I rudely brush them aside. There is only a singular need left: to kill. I have three obstacles in my path to saving Hunter's life, and they need to be eliminated one by one. Teles happens to be the unfortunate first. Somehow, the fact that my entire life I have called her a sister and adored her chubby marble cheeks doesn't matter anymore. Her screaming only adds to my determination to shut her up for good. I scoop handfuls of crushed rock and stuff them into her mouth and gills, pushing hard with my thumbs to make it go deep. She sputters some of it back at me. I gather more and press with both hands. Her face grimaces in utmost concentration and finally her screaming subsides into quiet whimpering. She writhes in agony like a leech on hot sand.

Mist dims the valley, hiding the Douglas fir and rolling over us before it reaches the river like a giant bleached tongue. At any second, I expect Canosa to jump out of the haze at me and tear me apart, but she's disappeared. There is no time to wonder where she went or why. I have minutes left before Hunter's soul takes a hike in Ligeia's chest. On impulse, I decide to try out my idea of blowing myself up with my voice, except on Teles. Maybe it will work on her, and she will be my training ground. In any case, there is nothing else I can do right now but to yelp, because my strength is quickly fading.

I lower my face directly over Teles's and shout into her open mouth, making her body shimmer as if aglow. My ringing holler rises an octave higher, stretching the range of my limits, approaching the upper register of the highest female voice possible, a painfully shrill soprano. If a sonic gun can cause a lethal vibration, so can my voice. It all comes down to air waves reaching a speed faster than the speed of sound, to produce a sonic boom, much like a mini-explosion.

I force my pitch higher, louder still, until it stops sounding like a cry and begins trilling like a piercing whistle, becoming diaphanous, almost translucent in the musical sense of the word. If I measure its speed in numbers, it would have to reach beyond 751 miles per hour to break the sound barrier. My every fiber palpitates in tune and I lose myself in this shimmering sensation, reaching a crescendo. At last, my air goes out, and my scream abruptly stops.

An invisible force throws me on the rocks. I hit my head hard on a boulder, thinking that either Teles has managed to kick me off, or Canosa finally decided to interject. Both guesses are wrong. In front of my eyes, the inflated body of Teles pulsates for a split second like a gigantic balloon filled with too much water and then it simply bursts into a million droplets. I get drenched. Water drips off my hair and runs down my cheeks, a poor imitation of tears, because I have none. For a moment, I see the indentation of her shape in the fog, a faint outline burned into my retina. I blink and it's gone.

"I blew her up," I whisper, unable to believe it, letting the knowledge sink in. I relive the episode while looking at my upturned palms. I'm afraid to lick my lips; somehow, that seems as if I'd be licking off a piece of Teles. A shudder of disgust overwhelms me. I wipe my face with my sleeve until it's almost dry. It hits me that I really did it—I willed myself to do it. Delirious, I open into a victorious cry, pitching my voice to an impossible height.

"I DID IT!"

I wait for the usual horror of guilt to cover me with its wings and to painfully peck at my equilibrium, but it doesn't. It leaves me alone this time. It lets me get away with a siren murder and experience zero remorse. I'm in my element, and I feel divine. I lean over and roll onto all fours, ignoring the jagged rock edges cutting into my palms and knees. I lift my head and focus on my next target, like a predator sizing up the distance to its prey. Knowing that victory is on my side.

The best part of believing in yourself is having others see it. I'm superior to Ligeia right now. I know it, and I know that she knows it. Her every pore speaks to me clearly, her stunted body tells me a million words of submission. She heard me, and she saw Teles explode. In fact, she's doused in her remains, silver drops falling off her chin and onto Hunter. Their shapes appear in two gray clumps amidst the receding fog. Ligeia stops singing. She hovers above him as if in a dream gone wrong, her face distorted with hatred and anguish at the same time. Her hands fly up to cover her ears.