Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chaos.

In seconds, my world descended into chaos.

The nets were drawn up to the deck of the ship, and I was dumped there in a heap. I don't remember much of it, except that I was kicked, poked, and prodded by various boots and weapons. I heard men laughing, calling me names. I didn't understand their language, the sounds harsh and guttural, but I knew when they were insulting me, spitting on me.

I must have snarled at them, swiped at them with my claws, tried to bite them, but they were prepared. It wasn't their first time hunting Syrens, and they knew what to do. They came at me with chains and a heavy object to the head.

The world was full of pain and stars before it went black, and when I came to, I was in this glass box, barely long enough to fit me, my tail curling up at the end. It's filled with murky salt water, my gills just getting enough in, though I don't think the water will sustain me for long. It's hard to say if they know much about Syrens and that we can breathe air if needed. I would rather breathe the air than be stuck inside this glass cage with filthy water.

Larimar.

I tilt my head to the side, wincing through the pain as I look over to see Vialana in the box beside me. We're in a ship's cabin, the water in our boxes sloshing as the ship slams into wave after wave.

You shouldn't have come for me, Vialana says, sorrow in her anguished eyes.

She's right. I shouldn't have. But I felt so powerless when I watched Asherah get taken by the pirates that I couldn't just let the same thing happen to another Syren.

Though I don't think these men are pirates. I had glimpses of them when Asherah was hauled up—they spoke another language, English, I think, and weren't dressed the same way these men are. These men remind me of that soldier back in Chile.

And I have a feeling they have the same thing planned for me.

My blood runs cold at the thought. I would rather take my own life than be subjected to the torturous, immoral whims of these men.

Ullan must have known, Vialana says. But how?

The thought of Ullan kicks rage into my heart, but all the fury in the world won't help me now.

Maybe he saw them in the area and led them into the bay, making sure we were there already, I say, pressing my hands up against the top of the glass, testing the strength. Maybe he knows them somehow.

But a Syren making friends with a human?she asks.

It happens, I tell her.

And sometimes, they fall in love with them.

Silence stretches between us. I wish I had known Vialana better before this. She seems a lot sweeter than I thought. Perhaps I could have made more of an effort to get to know the Syrens instead of relying on Sipha.

But I'm tired of having so many regrets.

I'm so tired of everything.

My eyes close, and I drift off to sleep for a few minutes before I hear Vialana say, What do you think they'll do to us?

I don't know, I say. I remember what Priest said about exhibitions and museums and being kept in a glass box much like this one, people tapping on it, trying to taunt you, but I don't want to tell Vialana any of that. If a Syren's freedom is taken away, she loses all hope. She loses everything.

But you gained everything when you lost your freedom to Priest, I remind myself.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, three men staggering inside. They stink of alcohol, and I know that look in their eyes. Lusty and lawless.

They point at Vialana and shout at each other, their grins sloppy, leering. Disgust rolls through me, mixing with the rage until I feel as if I can't breathe.

I watch as they take off the glass lid, exposing Vialana beneath. She hisses and lunges for them. Her claws catch one of the men, nearly severing his arm, and blood sprays into the water, mixing with her already-red hair.

The man screams, stumbles back while holding his dangling arm, while the other men grab Vialana, quickly binding her wrists with wire. She thrashes in her box, the bloody water spilling everywhere, splashing over my own glass.

They haul her out, throwing her down on the floor. They yell at the man with the bleeding arm to wrap the rope around her tail, but by now, he's sitting down in the corner of the room, breathing slow and looking pale.

Another man comes into the room now. He doesn't even pay attention to the injured man. No, he goes straight to the Syren and takes his penis out from his pants, long and foul-looking. He barks at the other men—one holds down Vialana from behind, holding her hair, and the other sits on her tail. While she's still screaming, trying desperately to escape, the newcomer straddles her and runs his finger down the front of her tail, trying to find her slit.

He cries out when he does, and Vialana screams again as his fingers penetrate her. When his penis does and he continues to rape her in front of me, her scream turns into her Syren's song.

It causes cracks to form in my glass box, fissures along the porthole windows. The men cry out from the sound, blood trickling from their ears, and yet they keep pinning her down, keep defiling her. I want to turn away—I can't bear to see the pain and humiliation on her face as she's violated so horribly, but I'm afraid to. I have to keep watch, have to stay vigilant, have to figure out how to fight back.

Her screaming continues, louder now, and the cracks in my glass box are spreading, deepening. One of the men punches her in the face to shut her up, which earns a reprimanding tone from the other, as if raping is fine but hitting isn't, and while they're distracted, I take in a deep breath of the dirty water. I gather all my strength, and with a scream of my own, I push at the glass until it shatters.

Water spills out in a rush, filling the room, and I flounder on the floor on top of the broken glass.

The men are yelling now as I try to push myself up to sit, the better to defend myself, when suddenly, more people burst into the room.

One man in particular, with a thick blond mustache, starts barking orders. From the way they jump and listen, I assume he's in charge. He points at me, and men come forward with chains, but I open my mouth and scream again, swiping my tail back and forth along the floor, taking them out. One man falls right beside me, and I act fast. I bite down on his nose, taking it clean off while my claws dig into his chest to find his heart. I manage to swallow down his nose, one of his eyes, and his cheek before shoving the heart into my mouth, trying to gather more strength.

There is chaos all around me, my scream mixed with Vialana's mixed with the men, but then someone has a chain around my mouth, the same way Priest did, strangling my scream in my throat. I try to bite through it, but the only thing I succeed in doing is chipping a tooth.

Then, someone else grabs my hands and tail, tying both of them together so I'm bent backward in an arc. I'm left there on the ground, watching as they attempt to do the same to Vialana, but she's not fighting back. In fact, she's completely still.

For a moment, I think that perhaps the man punched her too hard, but then I see the blood trickle away from her, and when one of the men steps back, I see the awful truth.

There's a heart in her hand.

Her own.

Vialana just ripped her own chest open and tore out her heart, killing herself instantly.

I freeze. Go numb. I know I said I would do the same thing if any of those men were about to touch me, but it's still such a shocking, horrible thing to witness. Defiled by these heathens and then destroyed by her own hand.

Even if I could find the courage to tear my own heart out, I'm shackled, unable to move.

The blond man turns red in the face as he yells more things I can't understand. They push Vialana's lifeless body into the corner, and then the man in charge turns to me, putting his hand to my face as he says something. He's not quite leering at me in that sexual way of the others, but his eyes aren't kind either. They spark with some sort of zealous fascination, and somehow, I think whatever he has planned with me is far worse than what happened to Vialana.

Then, he grins at me, and before I know what's happening, he hits me over the head.

I wake up underwater.

Moving fast.

And yet, I'm immobile.

I'm held in place, chains wrapped around me in three different places.

I look down to see the inky depths of the ocean below.

I look up and see nothing but the belly of the dark ship.

I've been chained to a piece of wood that sticks down at the bottom of the vessel, one that moves back and forth every now and then. When it does, the ship corrects course and moves in that direction.

Now what?

The last thing I remember was that blond man, perhaps the captain, hitting me, and now I'm here. Why would he do this?

Perhaps he thinks I need to be in water to survive, and both the glass boxes have been shattered. Maybe he thought tying me to the bottom of the ship was the best way to keep me captive until the ship gets to its final destination.

But where is that? Where are they taking me? What happens when I get hungry? Without being able to use my arms, I can't catch any fish while I'm tied down here. If they're going to be at sea for weeks before they reach port, I'll starve to death.

A better death than the one you would have had up there, I tell myself, my heart sinking at that last image of Vialana holding her own heart in her hand. At least here, I am safe and alive—for now. It's hard to say what could happen in the future. Maybe there will be a chance at escape when they swim down to loosen me—after all, they'll be in my world for once.

I try to keep that thought going.

I have to have hope.

There were times during these last few years where I thought all hope was lost. I believed that nothing mattered anymore, and I would do anything to escape my battered and bruised heart. I really thought death would be the perfect escape, a slow sink into oblivion.

But the moment that net fell, I felt the fight return, the fight for the spirit, the soul, the fight for life—not just survival, but a life worth living and thriving in.

I feel that fight start to creep in. Maybe it's a pointless cause, seeing as I'm strapped to the bottom of a ship as it heads somewhere to do something awful with me, but I won't let these men take me.

I won't let them break me.

I'm the only one allowed to break myself.

And I don't feel like falling apart anymore.

I don't know how many days pass. It's impossible to tell time with the dark ship blocking out the surface. The ship is constantly crashing into the waves above, which makes me think we're still in a storm. Every now and then, we'll pass by an iceberg, the bright blue ice shooting down into the depths, always so beautiful and eerie. Sometimes, whales or dolphins will pass, and I've reached out to them with a plea for help.

But there's nothing a whale or dolphin can do to help me. They can't undo the chains—one tried briefly but wasn't able to undo the lock with their nose—and they are naturally wary of people, especially people who would chain a Syren to their ship. Only the giant black-and-white dolphins with the tall dorsal fins would be able to damage the boat, but I haven't seen any of them.

At one point, I think I even see a shark, but I don't dare call out to it. I would be easy prey for one of them since I can't fight back. Besides, it might be a dream. Everything starts to fade into a dark haze, a half-awake, half-asleep nightmare. I'm now used to the water constantly streaming past my face and body, the occasional movements of the wood turning the ship. I want to keep the fight alive, but I feel myself weaken with each moment.

More time passes, drifts by with the ice.

Then, out of the darkness, I hear a familiar voice, one I never expected to hear again.

There is the ship, the voice says, low and deep and inhuman.

The voice of a shark.

Nill, I think to myself, opening my eyes to the dark seas. When we left Limonos, Maren's shark, Nill, stayed behind to wait for her. He was never my shark, but he was part of the family, and it hurt to leave him behind, even though he insisted.

But Limonos was in a whole other ocean, one where icebergs didn't exist, where the water was warm and full of bright coral and colorful fish. That's where Nill belonged, not here in the icy darkness of the southern seas.

The rudder, the voice says. I see something attached to the rudder.

I strain my eyes, trying to see through the murky water constantly churned up by the swells and currents. Someone is talking; I know I can hear them. Perhaps another shark?

This time, I am asking for food.

Hello!I yell. Is anyone out there?

Oh my Lord, I hear another voice say in awe.

But this time, the voice isn't just familiar.

It's the voice of my heart.

The missing piece of my soul I've been looking for most of my life.

Maren!I yell.

Larimar!I hear her reply.

It can't be. It can't. I keep staring into the sea, expecting to be hallucinating, hearing things. It can't be her or Nill—they both can't possibly be here. Nill is a stretch, but Maren is an impossibility. She traded her fins for legs! It's not possible for her to be a Syren again.

And yet, it was possible for me.

My heart clenches into a tight little fist, holding out all hope.

Maren, I'm here! I cry out.

And for the first time on my own, I pray. Oh God, if you exist as Priest thinks you do, please, please, please.

Let this be her.

There's silence for a moment, and then suddenly, out of the murky waters, two shapes appear, swimming toward me.

One is a shark.

One is a woman in a dress, tattered at the end with a tail sticking out, pumping up and down furiously as she propels herself forward.

Details appear slowly and then all at once.

The red of her dress, standing out like a bloodstain against the deep.

Then, flowing black hair.

A teal-and-purple tail.

Her bright blue eyes.

Her wide, heartbreaking smile.

She's so much older than I remember, not the girl I imagined in my head, but that doesn't make her any less beautiful or any less her.

Maren.

I know I told Priest Syrens don't cry underwater, but I feel the tears spill from my eyes anyway, carried off into the currents.

Larimar!she cries out. She swims right up to me and keeps pace with the ship, her hand on my cheek, marveling at my face while Nill circles around us, excitedly waving his tail back and forth. I can't believe it's you. I can't believe we found you.

You were looking for me?I ask in surprise. I've been looking for you since the day you left. All this time, all those years, I've been looking for you. I try to swallow the lump in my throat. Asherah too.

I know, she says, but before I can ask how she could, she gives her head a shake, her expression pained, though her smile is soft. We have so much to talk about.

But how did you find me?

She nods at Nill. He helped.

How did you find Nill? You were gone for so long; how do you even have a tail again?

Magic, she says with a knowing grin. Come on, let's get you free.

How?I ask as she starts swimming along the chains, running her hands over them, her red dress swirling around her. Your claws can't break through. I don't think Nill's bite could do it either.

I could try, Nill says. But I think there is a better solution.

He's on the other side of what he called the rudder, nosing a part of the chain. I can't twist my head back enough to look.

I can pick this lock, Maren says determinedly. Nill, I need one of your teeth.

Happy to provide.

I can't see it happen, but I hear Nill give a small noise of discomfort and then Maren apologizes to him, having pulled a tooth from his mouth.

Won't be much longer, Maren says as I hear the tooth scraping against metal.

Where did you learn to pick locks?I ask her. Would have been helpful to know when I was captured by Priest. Then again, if I had escaped the first chance I had, I would have never known what it was like to give myself over to someone like him. I never would have experienced those blissful highs.

Never would have experienced those terrible lows.

I've learned a lot over the years, she says. But my husband taught me, amongst other things.

I stiffen. The prince? I heard you married a prince. That's why you made the deal with the witch.

I did marry the prince, she says, her voice hard. ButI left him…in pieces.

Oh.

I ended up married to a pirate instead.

A pirate?I exclaim.

Almost there, she says, her attention back to the lock.

But pirates killed Asherah.

Larimar, I know, she says. As I said, we have a lot to talk about. The most important thing is getting you free and back to our ship.

Ship! Are you kept in a glass box? That's what happened to me on this ship. I don't know what they are planning to do with me.

I have a Syren tail in the water, but out of the water, I have legs.

How?

Magic, she says. And speaking of magic... I hear the lock click. You're free.

The chains around me come loose and fall, rushing quickly into the depths until I can't see them anymore.

I burst forward, swimming out of the way, and then watch as the ship keeps going, leaving the three of us behind.

Suddenly, Maren's arms are around me in an embrace, and she holds me tight as I hold her back with as much strength as I can muster.

My sister.

I finally have my sister.

The hole in my heart I thought would never be filled is now overflowing with love for her.

My sister, my family, my blood.

Come on, she says, grabbing my hand. We'll be swimming this way. About a day's journey, if not more, depending on how the storm is blowing. The ship might be taking a beating.

Wait. You're taking me on the ship? I can't be with you the way that I am,I tell her, keeping pace. You are human; you have legs on land. I don't. I can't be part of your world, and you can't be part of mine.

I can, she says. I will stay in the water with you as long as you want, but don't underestimate me, dear sister. I have my own ways of making things work. She pauses. There is someone on the ship I would like to you meet. He's a witch. He'd be able to give you legs. If you want, of course.

My body tenses. I know there is absolutely no chance she's talking about Priest, and yet my heart starts to thud wildly, like it knows it's him.

A male witch?I ask. And he's not the captain?

Well, the captain does know magic, but it was taught to him with a very powerful magic book that we keep hidden. The man in question has innate magic within him. I know he was able to turn a Syren into a human once.

I stop swimming and stare at her.

What is this witch's name?I ask warily.

Aragon, she says, and it's like I've been punched in the heart. Strangely enough, he used to be a priest.