A Siren's Silence | Novelette

O N E | C U R S E D ● M A I D E N

                                                       O N E

                                    C U R S E D ● M A I D E N

                                                       ♢ ♢ ♢

BLOOD SWARMED THE SILKEN WATERS.

    Tatters of flesh – bits, pieces, and morsels to be sunken and rotted.

   Shreds of bone – to be claimed by the salt of the sea.

   Curlicues of liquid crimson –threaded through with a metallic ting.

   Shrieks, screams, and hisses gathered in the waters, echoing through the waters, ringing in Peisinoe's ears. She struggled against the urge to back into the waters, something akin to dread – or perhaps, even disgust – sinking into her bones. But she couldn't. Not unless she wanted her fate to be that of Molpe.

   "It is done," Peisinoe's mother uttered smoothly, a thread of anger tangled in her lambent voice.

   Peisinoe's lungs filled with the coppery stench of blood. It reeked, thick enough for her to taste. And to her great shame, her stomach rumbled in hunger. And intense clawing at her stomach, the reek only a whet for her appetite. It was a hunger that would haunt the rest of her waking life – one of many curses placed on her kind.

    It was a hunger only to be abated by the flesh, blood, and bone of prey.

   Prey of Mortal flesh.

   Or, like now, flesh of her own likeness.

   "She was weak," spat Aglaope, her gilded tail shimmering and glittering like a thing of brilliance. "Not even in centuries of inhabiting these waters could she tame her heart. Conquer her empathetic nature."

   Peisinoe's mother wove through the sea, tail streaking through its inky breadth. Hair as dark as the night sky, darker than coal, glimmered and swarmed her mother's slight shoulders. Teeth stained in blood, tatters of flesh wound through, picked clean from Molpe's bones. Ethereal features – a precious veneer so innocuous, so lovely, and so deceiving. Finger bones clasped over her breasts, the joints and bones the color of salt stolen from sailors they'd devoured. A tail of glittering gold scales, tumbling meters below them.

   Her mother was beautiful. Wickedly so, as they all were. Such was the nature of Sirens – at least, the veneer they adopted in the waters.

   Talons scraped against Molpe's bloodied bones, snapping them in half.

   "She was undeserving of bearing our gifts any longer," Leucosia drawled, pure honey coaxed from her bloody lips, beautifully shaped mouth curling into a sinister grin. Hair of matching sweetness danced over Leucosia's shoulders, glittering in shades of pearl and gold, her tails of flickering rose gold weaved through the dark water.

   "Not majestic enough." Ligeia purred, tongue curling around her fingers, licking away the remnants of Molpe from her hands.

   "Has anyone else decided they are in possession of morals?" Her mother snarled, whirling around, piercing stare slicing through their very souls as she appraised each and every siren before her.

   "I should hope," She sighed breathily, "that none of you ever dare what Molpe did. Should you, you'll find your well-being in ... dire circumstances, shall we say."

   Peisinoe's throat bobbed with an inaudible swallow, her tail beat through the inky water slowly. With her nape bent, almost submissively, she murmured, "No, Mother."

   "Good," Peisinoe's mother uttered crisply, whirling around with a flicker of gold. "Now come."

   One by one, Peisinoe's fellow sirens left the area, swimming away in a flock, leaving only Peisinoe and Thelxiepeia. And Molpe's remains. Blood continued to swirl around, only further stirred by their fellow sirens' movements. Tousles of midnight colored hair shifted with each breath the ocean took, chunks of shredded scalp and bones cleaved straight from flesh – by teeth and vicious nail – slowly sank out of view.

   "Did it have to be done?" Peisinoe's tail flickered.

   Drops of crimson had been flung everywhere as her brethren tore into Molpe, shredding her alive. Peisinoe had been spared for the most part – only a few bejeweling her hair, splattering her hand. But her mother had been bathed in blood, up to her elbows.

   Peisinoe's stomach rolled in disgust. Molpe hadn't deserved such a cruel, cruel ending.

   "According to your mother, yes." Thexipeia's rasped, blood indistinguishable from her fire-colored curls. "My sister had grown too soft."

   Peisinoe's heart felt heavy. Dangerously so. If her mother ever discovered how soft-hearted, weak-willed she was. Well, she was bound to end like Molpe had.

   "Come," Thelxiepeia bid. "We've dallied for too long."

                                                      ♢

    Parthenope ran through her glistening hair with a bejeweled mother-of-pearl comb, one of the many, many trinkets and treasures they'd pilfered from sailors and pirates alike when their ships had passed through their waters. A pirate port was settled nearby, far enough away that Mortals never knew of Siren presence, yet close enough for them to become prey.

    "Oh, I ache with hunger," Parthenope's roseate mouth curled into a lush pout. She turned her head from side to side, admiring her reflection in a silver-hammered mirror they'd stolen from a bride's chambers on a ship, long, long ago. "I fear my beauty has lessened. Is it not enough, do you think, to lure any Mortal man?"

    When Peisinoe did not reply, Parthenope turned with an irritated scowl. "Peisinoe?"

    Peisinoe tore her gaze away from water above her, hands smoothening over their shared nest of shipwreck galore. "You're beautiful enough to charm any number of Mortals, Parthenope. Never fear," She feigned a grin. "Even so, your watersong will undoubtedly do the trick."

    "Hmm," Parthenope turned back to her mirror, curling a still blood-stained hand through her raven waves. Her jade colored eyes flicked to-and-fro, shrewdly assessing Peisinoe.

    "What?" Peisinoe's voice gained a haughty note, and her back straightened. Her rose-gold tail curled this way and that, slashing through silken waters. Her elbows were straight, propping her against some surface or other that'd once been part of a ship.

    "Nothing," Parthenope smirked, silvery tail swishing. "Only, I noticed you did not feast earlier."

    On Molpe. Peisinoe's thoughts blackened. On a fellow sister.

    "I – I wasn't hungry then." Peisinoe pinched her lips at the stutter, forcing a cool mask to shutter over her features.

    "Truly?" Parthenope looked away from the mirror, skewering Peisinoe with a brilliant glare. Then she tsked. "Oh, but darling, how pale you are. Such a wan complexion will do you no good."

    Perthenope's fingers were frigid as they clasped Peisinoe's own hand. A movement that should seemingly be motherly and kind. But Peisinoe knew her kin better than that. Bloodthirsty, cruel, savagely ethereal, and of icy hearts, there was no room in them to be kind or motherly.

    "Perhaps it is time you live up to the name you share with your mother," Parthenope suggested, fingers slicking over the strands of pearls and jewels spilled across the surface Peisinoe sat upon. "Perhaps it is time to take you on a hunt of your own."