Chapter 15

Eridanys saidhe'd come back, and Alba wanted to believe him. He only wished the mer-man would come sooner, unsettled by every sound the house made while there alone. Aware of every boat that went in and out of the harbor as he watched through the window while not distracting himself with chores or keeping to the lantern.

Fearing someone else would come. Clearly, someone else would come. Someone already had. There would be a third. Then a fourth, and a fifth. And Alba just wished his feral sea-creature would come back and be ready to gut anyone who did.

He was left alone to dwell in his thoughts for far too long. Drowning beneath feelings of relief and pure glee at the death of Marco right in front of him, combined with the pain of scrubbing the man's blood from the floorboards.

He avoided any sight of his reflection, whether in the washroom mirror or the weatherpanes in the lantern room while wiping them down, embarrassed and disgusted at the sight of his own swollen and bruised eyes and split lip. All the while ruminating on curses he hoped strong enough to trap Marco's soul in the harbor just like all the other reanimated corpses who bothered him so much whenever Eridanys wasn't there. Combined further with the growing frustration of simply wanting to tell Eridanys what had happened to him in the woods on the edge of town. Thinking of those pale faces as often as he thought about the sound Marco made after having his throat torn away. Dreaming about both whenever he closed his eyes. Waking up choking more often than not, either from his windpipe ripped away or his own tongue swelling until it cut off his air.

It was only two nights Alba sat alone in the lighthouse, one afternoon between them where he tried to sleep but couldn't. Two days during which plump crabs kept appearing tossed over the rocks. Sometimes thrown haphazardly through the trap door again, where Alba would have to chase them down without losing a finger. Proof that Eridanys was, at least, somewhere close by.

On his second afternoon attempting to sleep, he nearly blew Eridanys' head off with the pistol. Glad he realized before pulling the trigger, having lurched from the bed and turned faster than a storm whips a weathervane at the sound of footsteps climbing the loft stairs.

Eridanys just scoffed at him, frowning in a way that said ‘go ahead' like he thought Alba was a coward. Alba wasn't. Alba wasn't going to admit his relief to have his tentative companion back either, though, especially when they dripped water, standing naked, all over the floor at his feet.

When Alba spotted the decorated clamshell in one of Eridanys' raised hands, he asked:

"What's that?"

"I knew your face would look like shit after everything that happened," Eridanys said, popping open the top of the shell and raking fingers into a mass of slimy muck inside. Without saying anything else, and before Alba could protest, he plopped it over Alba's swollen eye, then down the side of his face, over half his mouth and bruised jaw. Alba jerked away on instinct, opening his mouth to swear at the man in annoyance, but the taste of muddy, minty seaweed infiltrated his tastebuds first, making his tongue tingle and swell along with the rest of his skin.

Eridanys smirked like he enjoyed watching Alba choke on it, dropping to a knee in front of where Alba sat on the edge of the bed and smearing more mud on him. Alba averted his eyes—but not before becoming acutely aware of how close the man suddenly was. Smelling of the sea, briny and fresh and crisp. Skin shining slightly with dampness and highlighting every line of every muscle as they moved. More than aware of the mer-man's bare cock hanging between his legs all over again. Alba would not look. He did not look.

He—only looked a few times, and only for the briefest of moments.

"Even the sea-mud gets enchanted where merrow live," Eridanys went on, and Alba pursed his lips in frustration, but didn't try to argue again. "The mud, the seaweed, the fish, the rocks… this mixture will help heal your face in a few days."

"Why does it matter to you?" Alba couldn't help it. Eridanys scowled.

"A ‘thank you' would be fine, too."

Alba almost punched him. But the smallest hint of sincerity in the offer admittedly made his tense feelings soften some. Allowing himself to watch how Eridanys' own face moved as he concentrated on dabbing the mixture on all parts of Alba discolored by Marco's hands. His eye, his mouth, jaw, nose, around his throat, his ear that still rang faintly.

The mention of merrow-magic reminded him of something else, hand traveling to his bare wrist and running fingers around it in silent consideration. The bracelet his mother gave him as a child, with the promise it would make him a man. Silver and braided with pearls, made of ocean magic as Edythe claimed. Alba never questioned it; Edythe was always saying strange things like that, was always mixing up some strange concoction or another, wrapping Alba up in strange rituals involving white fish and the moon and burning candles while playing her flute and sipping on sea water. He never questioned it as anything more than his quirky mother—but the more he learned about that place where she came from first-hand, the more all of it made sense. In a way that made him grieve how little he'd paid attention during those years. Heavy with how much he missed her in that moment, and still could only pray that, wherever she was, she was safe.

"What are you thinking?" Eridanys must have seen the wandering behind Alba's eyes. "Better not be that you're still going to shoot me."

Alba scrambled for anything to say that wasn't the truth. "Thinkin' about how… maybe it's no wonder the townspeople worship mermaids. Erm, merrow, so much. Or why they're so protective of even the mention of you, I s'pose. If you livin' in their harbor even made the mud special."

Eridanys smiled mischievously that time. Like it was a point of pride, like he was the sole reason for any bounty that ever existed in those waters. "Moon Harbor never saw fishing as rich as when my kin lived here."

Alba nodded. Marco had said something like that, too, hadn't he?

"Guess it's no wonder the town looks like absolute hell now, with all of them gone," he replied. Eridanys' wicked smile spread wider. Satisfied to hear it. "Were your kin this generous back then, too?"

"Oh, am I generous now?"

Alba rolled his eyes. "First with ripping out Marco's throat for me, and now smearing sea-shit on my face."

"Neither of those things were for you," Eridanys said like a promise, before adding: "Though I've never seen anyone as ugly and pitiful as you when you stumbled into the washroom. Makes my stomach turn just thinking about it."

Alba laughed again, weaker that time. "Doesn't surprise me that merrow appreciate beauty."

"It doesn't?" He said it in a way that could have either been a prod for compliments, or genuine confusion. Alba bit his lip, but decided against it. He didn't want Eridanys' ego to get any bigger than it was. There wouldn't be any room left in the house if it did.

"Are you still hungry?" he asked, instead. "Or did you eat Marco whole?"

"I did," Eridanys answered without flinching. "His meat was greasy and bitter. Like alcohol."

"That doesn't surprise me, either." Alba pulled hair over one shoulder as Eridanys' muddy hand trailed down to run into the crook of his neck. "Well, I still have those crabs you kept tossin' over the rocks. And through the hatch. I was gonna cook them tonight, if you want some."

"I didn't throw any through the hatch…" Eridanys muttered, furrowing his brows, before shaking his head. "Whatever you say. If it's your way of repaying me, then so be it."

"Oh. I didn't realize we were still acting that way."

"What way?"

Alba smirked, flipping his hair back off his shoulder and getting to his feet.

"Nothin'. Glad you're keepin' track of debts owed to one another, because I'm not."

Something about that bothered him, because Eridanys scoffed again, making sure to stubbornly wipe his muddy hands all over Alba's bedsheets before getting to his feet to follow him down the stairs.

Alba feltlike a starving animal watching the crabs boil in the pot, rolling his tongue over in his mouth as the hunger clawed at his insides and Eridanys' healing mud-mixture made his face tingle. Eridanys soon joined him from the stairs, wearing the same shirt and pants Alba had once found for him, Alba having insisted he put something on before getting anything to eat. He watched the mer-man as he made his way to the table and taking a seat like any other dinner guest would.

Despite seeing it all before, there was still something strange about Eridanys' feigned human-ness, long hair damp and pulled back out of his eyes, legs crossed and fingers strumming the table as if waiting for his serving of food to be offered. What a stark difference from the creature Alba first met the night of the full moon, looking handsome as ever in the low firelight of the stove. The dim, late-afternoon light coming through the window over the sink. Handsome, but that time, not in a frightening way like Alba first thought. Perhaps because he kept being reminded of the sea-mud on his face—and how Eridanys never had any obligation to bring him such a thing. Yet, for some reason Alba still didn't totally understand, did.

"Have you ever eaten boiled crab with butter and herbs?" The merrow spoke first.

Alba gave Eridanys a look he clearly didn't expect. He thought it was a joke—but the look on Eridanys' face said otherwise.

"Butter? What's that?" he couldn't resist. Eridanys attempted to explain something he himself clearly only vaguely understood—that being where butter came from—and Alba had another thought: "How do you know about butter on boiled crab? Or licorice, now that I think about it. Since I don't think either are a merrow delicacy. Doubt you milk sea-cows like we do land-cows."

"You really think you're the first human I've ever known well?" Eridanys answered, and Alba shrugged as an answer. "You're not even the most interesting."

Alba frowned, unexpectedly embarrassed, but not on that last comment.

"I guess you're right. It didn't occur to me, seein' as you very clearly resent every moment with me."

Eridanys frowned, like he was annoyed the jab didn't cut as deep as he'd hoped.

"My previous human partner used to cook for me occasionally. More than just fish and crab, too," he said, sticking the sharp end of a fingernail into the tabletop and tracing a line down the wood fibers.

"You had a human partner?"

"Once. He died."

"Oh," Alba trailed off, self-conscious. "Sorry to hear that."

His eyes flickered to the merrow, then back again. Eridanys was looking right at him, as he always did, though that time with a sense of waiting. Waiting for Alba to say something else, maybe to ask more questions. But Alba wasn't sure how to respond to something like that, especially when Eridanys said it so casually.

"Don't be," he finally spoke again, still calm as ever. "He deserved it."

Alba still said nothing, though he also didn't flinch. Instead—he nodded silently, eyes remaining on the pot. He didn't know how much time passed with those harsh words hanging between them before Eridanys continued:

"Was it something I said?"

Alba looked back at him. Looking at him. Looking at him, as if he thought it might change his reaction. Perhaps someone else would have been shocked, or at the very least inhaled an off-put breath. But Alba felt nothing about the words, or the implication that Eridanys felt nothing about the death of someone he called his partner.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Eridanys insisted, and the tiny smile at the corner of his mouth told Alba what sort of answer he wanted to hear.

"Why would it?"

Eridanys' smirk turned curious. "Most folks would at least ask why I felt that way."

Alba furrowed his brows at the crab pot again, before shrugging. "After all the sorts of folk I've met—I think there are some people who aren't worth grieving. Not that anyone deserves to die, but—I've met plenty of folk I wouldn't personally go out of my way to save, either. People who wouldn't be mourned if somethin' happened to them."

"An interesting moral dilemma. You say it like a practiced speech."

"I don't know anythin' about you or your partner, why would I scold you for sayin' he deserved it? It's none of my business, anyway. Besides… it's not like my hands are clean in comparison." He scowled at the thought of the man he'd killed right there where he stood only a few weeks prior, before shaking his head and adding: "Sometimes… you have t'make choices if it's a matter of survivin' in a world that'd throw you out first if it could. If you say your partner deserved it, whatever happened, who am I to judge the circumstances?"

"How many times have you had to do something to survive?" The merrow asked. Alba could hear the sarcastic smile on his voice without having to see it, as if he didn't believe Alba was capable of such a thing. Despite having seen it for himself. Alba just continued frowning down at the pot of crabs.

"Enough."

"What was the first time?" Eridanys continued, that time with genuine curiosity. Alba just wished his dinner would cook faster so he could focus on stuffing his mouth rather than speaking. Trying to decide how much he really cared to share. Wondering if it really mattered if he was honest. Wondering if merrow like Eridanys really cared about the politics of sailing as a lad or a lass. Or a lass who was a lad.

"Is it true what men say about ladies on sailin' ships?" Alba started. "That they bring bad luck, misfortune, from the likes of you and other sea-monsters like you? That Poseidon stirs up whirlpools and rogue waves and tempests in a fury at the discovery of two tits on his waters."

Eridanys grinned in a way that told Alba he was readily familiar with those tales. He couldn't help but smile back sarcastically.

"Poseidon is prone to furies like all of those, indeed, though there isn't a man alive who could actually explain the cause of a single one. Though two breasts on the open sea—I can assure you, he would only attempt to sink her ship because he wants a taste of them for himself."

"Good to know," Alba smirked. He couldn't help it. "Well—sailors really believe it. Some would even be so willin' to throw the poor lady overboard to become a siren to sink another ship on their tail than risk their own misfortune."

"Not at all how sirens are made, but go on."

"Well…" Alba gazed out the window, watching the way the suffocating sunlight cast the faintest dull glow even through such thick clouds. Without thinking, his hand lifted to his chest. He trained his palm over the flatness where a breast should have been, but never was.

"I was born like a lady," he finally said, unsure how else to explain the complicated emotions tangled around such words. Words that made his pulse pound harder than admitting to killing anyone ever would. "Even now, if you looked at me naked as the day I was born, you'd think so. By what everyone else says a ‘lady' is, at least. But I grew up to be a man. It was never a problem at first, 'til I was snatched off the street to sail for the Warrens. I knew I had to be careful, of course—there were plenty of men who wouldn't give a damn, even a few who confided that they were like me, but a woman.

"But for every man who wouldn't bat an eye, there was another who might throw me over; or worse, leavin' me wishin' I had been. The man who deserved to die… who I killed, the first time, was like that." Alba could taste the bitter chill on the air. How the harsh wind pulled at his braided hair, wet and whipping and making it hard to breathe. He focused on his moving tongue to remain where he was—two feet on the ground. Warm in front of the stove. "There was still another three months left on our contract, and I was not about to spend it havin' to choose between lettin' him do as he wished to me to keep my secret, or tellin' the captain, which would get me stranded, or…"

"Worse," Eridanys finished for him. Alba nodded, squeezing the flesh of his flat chest one more time. He let out a breath that trembled slightly, pushing the memory, the discomfort away and hoping Eridanys didn't sense how it made his blood race. How he could feel the shift of a tossing ship beneath his feet. The needles of icy spray prickling his cheeks, when larger waves didn't attempt to sweep him into the black water on their own. Insides sweltering with a mix of rage and fear. Staring at that man leaning over the railing, searching for the root of a tangle in the nets before the storm tore him from the boat. Every time a dark wave spit over him, Alba hoped it would take him. Every time he remained despite it all, Alba whispered prayers for another to come. But again and again, no wave was strong enough to knock that seasoned sailor off balance.

"So I pushed him," he whispered. Another confession, to himself, to Eridanys, to whatever god might be listening out of curiosity, though he'd lost hope any paid attention long ago. "I cut that bastard's safety line and I let the sea decide what to do with him. He was swallowed up before anyone could even call out anyone'd gone overboard—and we were so busy tryin' to save the nets, it didn't matter. They didn't bother. Somethin' I always feared would be my own fate—to fall over and no one bother—for just a moment, was my saving grace."

Alba's ears were ringing when Eridanys' voice cut through the memory, thick and heavy and choking not unlike those frigid waves had been. When Alba finally jolted back to the present, he had to ask Eridanys to repeat himself.

"The sea feasts most enthusiastically on the land's most unwanted offerings," he said. As if quoting an old poet. Alba gazed at him in quiet intrigue, before laughing weakly again.

"Never swallowed me up, though, no matter how many times I fell in. Always spit me right back out to be fished with the rest of the day's catch."

"You must have had someone on land who would have grieved a little too loudly. The sea can always tell."

Alba smiled to himself, not expecting the amused warmth that bloomed in his chest. He absentmindedly touched the roots of his hair where a protective braid used to tug. "My mother used to say somethin' similar. She would have raised hell like the sea had never seen, I think. She, erm… named me after a seabird for that reason, you know. I was named after my father at first, but after he died when I was only a baby, she changed it. Said she didn't want me to have the same fate. Maybe not knowing that namin' me after a sea bird meant I was destined to end up there one way or another…"

He trailed off. He didn't know what he was saying.

"Albatross," Eridanys reiterated. "The prince of the sea. Little prince. That's what that man called you, isn't it?"

"Yes," Alba sighed. "My mother used to call me that, too. He only did it because he knew that."

"I'm glad to have torn out his throat, then," Eridanys responded with a little lick of his lips. Alba was surprised, the sentiment coming off almost like a misguided offer of camaraderie. Like he did it because he knew it was something that bothered Alba, despite having no motive to care what Alba thought about anything. Though the merrow's next comment shed some light on his true sentiments: "Although, to be fair, any man who works for the Warrens deserves that sort of fate."

"Not all of us had a choice," Alba mumbled bitterly. "How much do you know about the Warrens, anyway? You reacted to hearin' the name like you knew them."

Eridanys drew more lines in the table with a fingernail, thinking before answering. Alba wondered if he'd have to buff out scratches when the night was over.

"They take young workers from Moon Harbor regularly. Or used to, anyway, when I still lived here. For their boats, I assume."

"That's what happened to my parents." Alba nodded. He wondered again if Eridanys had known either of them while living in the harbor, but stopped himself from asking. Instead looking the mer-man up and down, wondering if merrow aged at the same rate humans did.

"An evil family," Eridanys went on, not noticing Alba's lingering eyes. He carved more lines into the table, like the reminder of it all was enough to nearly send him into a frenzy. Alba wanted to ask more, wanted to know what else Eridanys had to say about it, but instinct pricked the back of his throat, urging him to hesitate. Not wanting to push the merrow over the edge of anything that might make him explode; not wanting to push so hard that Eridanys refused to continue.

Even more—speaking of his parents, of the merrow in the harbor, Alba suddenly remembered there was something he'd needed to tell Eridanys since the last time they saw one another.

"Speakin' of, there was—! Erm, that is…" He didn't know how to say it, tongue tangling in his mouth as he turned fast enough to make Eridanys jump. "There was something I found while I was in town last. That I didn't have a chance to tell you with all the bloodshed. You see—well, you know all the singin' we've been hearing? I said it was just the pipes on the buildings, but… now I'm not so sure. I think… I think it's actually singin'. And it's coming from the woods on the other side of town."

Eridanys straightened up, though hesitation painted his expression.

"Did you see who was singing?"

"Well, sort of, but not clearly—they lured me deeper into the trees than I thought, only realizin' at the last moment. Nearly dropped dead from your damned curse because of it, too," he added sourly. "Thank god I came to my senses and crawled back out before that could happen. But then there were just… faces. A whole audience of pale faces lookin' at me, who… Well, I thought—who looked like you. Erm, I mean, just in how pale they were, and their eyes, and… they didn't have long hair like yours, I think it was all cut short, but I swear it was the same pretty moonlit color…" he trailed off. Not realizing how long his eyes lingered on Eridanys' hair at the thought. Eridanys certainly noticed, however, stroking the braid with his hand and only then making Alba realize he was staring.

He quickly cleared his throat, adding: "They definitely looked more like you do in your human form, too. Didn't have the strange ears or tails… I mean, I assume, since they were on land instead of in the water… Obviously there's no proof it was your kin, since I don't know why they would be in the woods, but…I also heard some townsfolk talkin' something about how ‘salting the earth' wasn't satisfying the spirits anymore. That could mean anything, though, I suppose… Could be some other kind of evil spirit hauntin' the place… Wouldn't be surprised…" he rambled, unable to help it as Eridanys only stared at him. Wishing the man would say something, do something.

"You said they… lured you?" He finally asked. "Was it with their song?"

"Well—I don't know. I don't remember. I was bein' careful, only walking in a little bit at a time, tryin' to follow the people throwing salt, but then I was just suddenly… much deeper in than I thought. The path was gone behind me, even though I was sure I followed it. I'd even dropped my cane and never noticed. I just… don't know how it happened."

"And here I thought you said you'd never been tempted by any song of the sea."

"Well…" Alba frowned. Knowing as well as Eridanys did that he had been, once, by the same mer-creature sitting there at the kitchen table. "Maybe I just wasn't expectin' it. Not often you get lured into the woods by a bunch of tree-sirens."

"There's no saying the things in the woods are sirens," Eridanys corrected. "Siren songs are different from other creatures, even merrow."

"Oh?"

"Both sing to draw something in, but usually for different reasons." He smirked. "Merrow lure humans to trick them, to offer a granted wish, to make a deal or ask for something for themself; sirens sing to feed. They prey on a human's physical desires of the flesh, in order to draw them close enough to drown. You say you've never been tempted by sirens while sailing though, so do you not…?"

"I'm—I enjoy—physical desires of the flesh just fine, actually," Alba said, speaking the words a little too fast.

"It's perfectly alright if you don't"

"I enjoy them! At least—I think I would. I don't know, I've never…" He had to look away again when he found Eridanys gazing at him with a new kind of intensity. One of curious hunger. Like a beast trying to determine if Alba's skin-and-bones existence was enough to sate it for a night.

"Never what?" The man encouraged. His sly smile remained. Like he knew what Alba meant to say all along. "Perhaps you've simply never given in to the call of something you would risk it all for?"

For him to say such a thing when Alba knew better than both of them exactly how that same mer-man's song had reduced him to a flushed, tingling mess in private—Alba almost couldn't keep the mortification off his face.

"Perhaps so many years sailin' just made me numb to them," he finally said. "Like their magic wouldn't work on me no matter who sang for me to hear. Merrow or siren or anythin' else. I don't know what happened in the woods, but—but I definitely wasn't being drawn in because of… of… physical desires of the flesh…"

Eridanys regarded him like he was more interesting than he first thought. Or perhaps he simply enjoyed watching Alba stumble over his words, which only made Alba more wary. He wasn't usually so tongue-tied when talking about sex, about intimacy, let alone about resisting the song of sirens—but he'd never been forced to navigate such topics with anyone like Eridanys, either, who looked at Alba like something to eat. Like, despite saying otherwise, was perfectly aware of how his own song once tugged at the nape of Alba's neck. The base of his hips, his navel, arousing and tempting enough to leave Alba flushed and frightened and barely clinging to his senses on the kitchen floor.

"Have you ever wondered?" Eridanys asked, smiling as he did. Alba sensed it to be a trap. "What would happen if you ever gave in?"

"Like you just said—they eat their prey. What else is there to?—"

"Don't you wonder how they might pleasure you, first?"

"Oh, I…" Alba trailed off. His ears felt hot. "They don't actually pleasure their prey before killin' them, do they?—"

"And what if the siren enjoyed the indulgence of you so much that they decided to let you live?" Eridanys continued, unraveling his hair over a shoulder and stroking it in a way that emphasized the elegant length of his fingers, his hands. "To instead mark you as their own, death fall on any others who try to take you for themself?"

"That would never…"

"Wouldn't it? Plenty of creatures in the sea would love a human plaything. Even merrow used to do the same with chosen mates here in Moon Harbor," he said with a hint of implication. Alba's thoughts swirled back to the start of their conversation, though didn't quite hook on what Eridanys was referring to as the man's handsome mouth curled into a smile somehow even more captivating. "Though they gave it a poetic name, tried to pass it off as something other than simply indulging in the pieces of warm flesh they wanted all to themselves. Didn't want their own desires compared to the barbarity of sirens, perhaps."

"You keep sayin' ‘they' as if you aren't a merrow, yourself," Alba said. He didn't like how Eridanys kept smiling at him, like he had a secret. Like he was getting to the real point of everything he was sharing, if only Alba would be patient. "What was the poetic name?"

"They called their chosen humans shore-callers," the man continued as if Alba hadn't interrupted. "Special humans who, when chosen and properly mated, wouldn't ever fall for another creature's luring song again. Only ever made victim to their own merrow's call."

"Oh…"

"And who, in exchange, could call their merrow mate in return. Even allowing them to cross onto protected shores and walk freely amongst them."

"That's not real—" Alba started, surprised at how the words popped out of him like air escaping a canteen. Not realizing how tightly he held his body, how focused he was on watching Eridanys' mouth as it spoke, heart racing and skin prickling with warmth. Words spoken as if sung; teasing his insides with the sort of passive sea-magic he had no defenses against.

"It very much is real." Eridanys folded his arms, smiling wide enough to show his sharp teeth. "Why would I lie to you about such a thing?"

"What does all that have to do with—with sirens? In the woods or otherwise?"

Eridanys curled a piece of hair around a finger, never taking his eyes from Alba. "I suppose I wonder if that sort of mating ritual would still work the same even if I was technically no longer a merrow, myself."

Alba's mind spun. Starting to piece together what, exactly, Eridanys had been hinting at since the start.

"Sirens are just merrow cursed to hunt for their own food and companionship," Eridanys continued, and Alba jumped when the man suddenly got to his feet, joining him at the sink where the pot of boiled crabs sat draining into a basket. Claiming one, he tore a leg free, crunching into it shell and all. "Made savage by the waves. Driven mad with hunger, enough that it warps their song, changes how their magic hooks into the minds of prey. Merrow thrive when raised within a familial kinship—so to drive one out, alone, into the vastness of the sea, understandably forces it to resort to its most base instincts to survive. Both hunger and… otherwise."

Alba looked at him for a long time, specifically his mouth, teeth sharp as they crunched through another leg of crab. Only then did Alba realize how close they stood to one another, as effortless as how he'd been drawn into the trees by magic he didn't know he could hear. Magic he didn't realize was hooking into him, as Eridanys said. Making his insides writhe in want for something he didn't know, making his heart race, until he almost couldn't keep Eridanys' sharp gaze any longer.

"Then—you're a siren? Driven mad by—by eating humans?" He stammered while getting the words out, hating to utter such a sentence out loud, feeling like such a thought was more taboo as someone who'd once been subjected to something similar. Who'd lost his father to something similar, even if not at the hands of a mer-creature, specifically. Knowing how easy it was for even humans to be driven mad by the same circumstances. Hating the thought that there was anything so horrific he and Eridanys might have in common, both forced to resort to such evil while lost in the vastness of the sea. "Well—what were you doing so far out at sea? Sounds like it may have been your own fault, becoming a siren or whatever you say. Why tell me any of this?"

Thankfully, Eridanys didn't seem to notice Alba's sudden discomfort. He just chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back against the edge of the counter. "I didn't merely get lost like some green sailor on his first voyage. I was banished from my kinship, here in Moon Harbor. And yes—out there in the great sea—in the endless loneliness, the hunger, the exhaustion, even I succumbed to the depravity of a siren. My song changed, allowing me to lure sailors like you for something to feast on to survive. I'm still a siren now, even after returning. And I would stay a siren even if I'd found my kin alive and well, whether they invited me back into the fold or not. Satisfied?"

"Why are you tellin' me this?" Alba asked again, though barely heard the words as they left him. His eyes remained on Eridanys' mouth, his eyes as they flickered over Alba's beat-up, muddy face. Alba didn't know how he felt hearing those words, either—except one thing. Pity. The smallest ounce of empathy, as someone who'd been compelled to depravity in similar ways.

He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose and turning to address the crabs in the sink. Letting his thoughts roam, to weave in and out of the things Eridanys had told him, as vast as the sea itself. The merrow remained silent, like he wanted Alba to figure it out on his own.

"You said you wondered if mating with someone, even as a siren, would allow you the same magic properties as the merrow with their chosen humans."

"Ah. You were paying attention."

Alba's frown dug deeper lines in his mouth, his forehead, enough that the mud chipped on his bruised jaw.

"So that… your partner only responds to your song. And so you can ‘walk on land…'" His eyes flickered to Eridanys' very obviously already existing legs, crossed at the ankles where he stood. Recalling all his talk about traps that kept him in the water. Eridanys noticed, stretching one out and rolling his foot.

"Protected shores, I specified. On top of their traps, Moon Harbor has wards that keep unwanted merrow from climbing out of the sea."

"Unwanted merrow and unwanted sirens."

"Unwanted sirens is redundant, all things considered."

Alba huffed. "Well—out with it, then. All you do is speak in riddles. I'm more afraid of sayin' the wrong thing and lookin' foolish in front of you than I am of any siren's song you could sing."

"Afraid of looking foolish in front of me? Oh, dear Albatross?—"

"I said out with it!"

Eridanys' hand found Alba's, taking it. Alba's breath caught, staring as the man drew it to his mouth, only a hair's breadth from kissing Alba's bruised knuckles.

"I want to mate with you. To make you my caller of the shore, just like merrow once did with the humans of Moon Harbor. So that you are only ever made weak by my own song, and you allow me to cross onto the shore, uninhibited by the warding bonds and traps alike that they have in their waters. Is that clear enough?"

Alba couldn't think straight. He couldn't tell if Eridanys' luring voice made his thoughts weave in and out to the point they were nonsensical, or if it was merely the outrageousness of the request.

Or—was it outrageous? If what Eridanys said was true, it would provide a solution to both concerns Alba had. To no longer worry about being lured by voices he didn't even realize were tempting him; and to allow Eridanys to join him the next time he returned to town, in case another of Josiah's men came looking for him. Like a feral guard dog on a leash, who would circle and snarl at anything that came too close while Alba went about both his and the siren's business.

"You already said once before that someone in town might recognize you," he argued anyway, though it didn't have much teeth. Seeking reassurance rather than a debate. "Aren't you worried about that?"

"I can be careful. Like I said before—I know the town. Well enough to hide from unwelcome eyes."

But Alba still didn't agree. Just gazed at where Eridanys continued to hold his hand, still hovering near his mouth, as if breathing in the smell of his skin.

"I wish to see what you saw in the trees," Eridanys insisted calmly, breath chilly against Alba's knuckles. "To determine for myself if it has anything to do with my missing kin. I want to see if I recognize them. Even if I don't—I want to know their reason for luring you, and whether or not they try again with me next to you."

"What, they won't be able to tell on their own that I can't be lured anymore?"

"Being my shore-caller will protect you from being lured by another's song, but not from any other tricks they may play," Eridanys said with a flicker of genuine warning, and Alba's blood chilled.

His hand touched Alba's chin, turning it to face him. He regarded every inch of Alba's face, muddy and bruised and swollen and ugly, as he himself once said, before his pale eyes skimmed up and down the rest of him in what felt like the same appraisal Alba always got from captains when new fishing contracts were assigned.

"You're exactly the type of man most creatures would love to play with."

Alba did not want to know what the hell that meant. He pulled from Eridanys' hand, but didn't step away entirely. Not at first, just glaring at the man's collarbones barely peeking out from beneath the open collar of his shirt. He ignored how his face, his ears felt warm as he braced himself to ask:

"If I say yes, what happens? I mean—how do we do it?"

"What do you mean, ‘how do we do it'?" Eridanys said sarcastically. "Do you not know what I mean by ‘mate with you'?"

"Not in the context of old human-merrow rituals! Of course not." He didn't mean to sound so shrill.

Eridanys' fingers ghosted over the nape of Alba's neck, making goosebumps flush down his skin.

"I'll sing for you when I'm ready. You'll come if it pulls you. Follow your instincts, and I will take care of the rest."

"That doesn't explain anything. You know that's not what I meant!" Alba insisted, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I expect more than that, especially after you just got done telling me all about how sirens eat whoever they call to?—"

"I also said they pleasure them, first."

He said it without a hint of teasing. In fact, as his eyes trailed up and down Alba for what had to be the dozenth time, his tone was entirely serious.

"Then—you intend to fuck me? Before you eat me?"

"I'm not going to eat you."

"Why should I believe that? For all I know, this is just some sort of game you like to play with your food?—"

"I'm not going to eat you,sailor," Eridanys insisted with frustration, spoken through his teeth and grasping the nape of Alba's neck. Not forcefully, not to yank Alba back to look at him, but rather as a means of forcing Alba to meet his eyes. Alba did, held in place by the siren's hand, faces hardly a few inches from one another. He wondered how he must have looked beneath a layer of sea-mud. Did he look frightened? Apprehensive? Could Eridanys see the hesitation, the uncertainty, the pure icy fear of having to admit out loud—he'd never fucked or been fucked by even a normal human man, before?

Perhaps he did, because he quirked an uneven smile suddenly, letting his eyes flit over Alba's face a moment longer before adding: "I suppose there's always the chance I'll get too excited, forgetting my own strength once I have you. Going mad with hunger enough to forget. Remembering how good you tasted the first time we met, knowing that I'd have to resist that temptation this time. I admit, every time your cheeks go red, I have to resist chomping down on you a second time. Wondering if your blood would be just as mouthwatering as the first, especially with me on top of you, writhing and gasping and begging for what I have planned?—"

Alba's hands flashed out, smashing against Eridanys' mouth with wide eyes.

"Don't," he squeaked. A pathetic sound, tight in his throat, only making him flush hotter in embarrassment. "I—I just said, I don't want to play games with you. It isn't funny."

Removing his hands, Eridanys' smile underneath remained like he thought otherwise. Still, he finally let go of the nape of Alba's neck, settling back against the counter.

"I'm not going to eat you," he said one more time with finality. "There's still too much I want from you. Maybe I'll reconsider once our agreement is through, but—even then, I promise to make sure you enjoy it, first."

Alba moved like he was about to throw a punch, and Eridanys put his hands up in defense. His foxlike smile never faltered.

"I promise I'll treat you tenderly, sailor. Just come when you're called, alright? Don't resist me, this time. Who knows what I'll do if you don't come. I'm desperate enough."

"When?"

"When I'm ready."

"When?"

"Not tonight," Eridanys sighed, motioning to the pot of crab. "Eat. Sun's going down soon. Almost time to light the lantern."

"Don't start thinking you can tell me what to do."

But that only made Eridanys laugh, turning for the door. Alba hated how he straightened up in reaction, a sound leaving his mouth before he could stop it. Having to finish speaking when Eridanys turned with a raised eyebrow in question.

"You—You're leavin' me again?"

"Would you like me to stay?"

I don't care. Do what you want. It makes no difference to me. All things Alba nearly said on instinct, but never quite reached the back of his throat. He would never utter such a thing out loud—but the truth was, Alba wasn't eager to be left alone in that silent house again.

Glancing at the pot of crab, then back to Eridanys, he cleared his throat.

"I can't eat all this by myself," he said. "Don't want it to go to waste. I want you to eat some so you owe me a debt, and I can make you do chores while I'm tendin' the light."

Eridanys clearly didn't expect that. He hovered where he stood for a moment, like he was waiting for Alba to suddenly laugh at him for thinking he was actually invited. But Alba never did, and they stood there in silence.

Eventually, Eridanys' expression twitched, before returning to his seat at the table. Alba said nothing else, either, pulling a second plate from the cabinet and setting it alongside his own. Reminding him of the rare occasions when he'd share a meal with his mother, on those brief nights back home. Another pocket of warmth fluttered in his chest, and he smiled to himself, plucking crab from the pot and dishing them up. Enjoying the thought of having a companion there with him—even if that same companion's song would soon lure him into the sea.