27. Ecco

27

ECCO

W e step into the warmth of the Moonflower Inn's lobby and my gaze immediately falls on Mariah at the reception desk. She knew where we were headed, and her face is an open book, worry etching lines around her emerald eyes and across her freckled brow. She spots us and tenses, clearly anticipating news.

I'd continued to keep the stalker situation a secret from Mariah. She's been so busy operating the inn at full capacity and trying to help Velda. I didn't want to worry her.

But once the cops showed up at her inn yesterday, I had to come clean. She was pissed that I'd kept such a big secret from her, but her fear for me kept her from getting too angry.

Now, I walk over to her quickly, not wanting to keep her in suspense.

"It's fine. It's all fine! It was all a misunderstanding. Karisse is a chronos sprite who can't control her powers. She was trying to come watch my past performances and was accidentally sending herself all over the place."

Mariah's eyes widen with relief. "Oh, thank gods!"

But then the blood drains from Mariah's face, leaving her sickly and pale. She lurches for the waste basket beside the desk and retches violently, her slender frame shuddering.

"Mariah!" I rush over and crouch beside her, rubbing her back. "Mariah, what's going on? Are you okay?"

She looks up at me, strands of chestnut hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. A tentative smile tugs at her lips despite her sickly sheen.

"Surprise?" she whispers weakly. "I'm pregnant."

Her hand comes to rest on her still flat stomach, her fingers splaying protectively.

I gape at her, my mind blanking out. Pregnant ? But… but…

It takes a minute for my brain to reboot, but then I'm hugging her fiercely, laughing and crying all at once. "Oh my gods, Mariah! You're going to be a mom! I'm going to be an aunt! We're having a baby!"

The Inn's lobby blurs around me as happy tears flood my eyes. Graeme quietly excuses himself to let us enjoy the moment.

Mariah and I hobble out from behind her desk, still hugging, and collapse into the plush armchairs by the crackling hearth, laughing.

"But how are you pregnant already? You just got married!" I blurt out, still struggling to wrap my head around it.

Has it really only been a couple of weeks since I watched Mariah walk down the aisle?

Mariah rolls her eyes. "Well, Ecco, this might be shocking to hear, but some people have sex before marriage."

I swat at her, grinning. "Ha ha, yes, yes, very funny. So, you were pregnant at the wedding?"

Mariah nods, absently rubbing circles over her stomach.

"I'm about two months along. We already knew, but we didn't want to take attention away from the big day. And I was planning to tell everyone right after..." She trails off. "But then the blizzard hit, and it just hasn't felt like the right time. Everything's been so chaotic."

I reach over and squeeze her hand. Mariah has always been my rock, the one constant through struggling with my powers and getting over crappy exes and bouts of crippling self-doubt about my music. And now, on the threshold of this huge new chapter of her life, I want to be that for her.

I'm suddenly inundated with memories from our own childhoods. I remember the hours we used to spend playing house, setting up elaborate scenarios with our dolls and stuffed animals, begging Auntie Laurelle to enchant them to dance around, me of course making all of them sing and play instruments in a pop band together.

Sometimes we would pretend to be grown-ups with families of our own, our imaginary children growing up as close as siblings, their lives intertwined in every way.

"Remember how we used to talk about living next door to each other when we grew up?" I ask, my voice soft with nostalgia.

Mariah nods, her eyes shining with tears. "I remember. Our kids were going to be best friends, just like us. It seemed so simple back then, didn't it? Like everything would just fall into place."

I think about my life in the city, about the demands of my career and the distance that separates me from Elderberry Falls.

With a pang, I realize that I'm going to miss so many of the small moments, the everyday joys and challenges of Mariah's pregnancy and motherhood.

My heart aches at the thought of not being there for the first kick, the first ultrasound, the first sleepless night. I'm going to be an aunt from afar, watching this new family member grow up through photos and video calls and brief visits home.

The pain of this realization is sharper than I expected, a knife twisting in my gut. Tears burn behind my eyes, and my throat is tight with a grief I can't quite name.

I think about Elderberry Falls, about how it's more than just a hometown to me. It's a part of my soul, a place that has shaped me in ways I'm only beginning to understand. Leaving this place, again—leaving Mariah and the rest of our friends and my dad again—is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done.

"I'm going to miss so much when I leave here, Mariah," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I'm going to miss being here for you, for all of this."

Mariah squeezes my hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "I know, Ecco. But you're going to be an amazing auntie, no matter where you are. And we'll make sure you're a part of everything, even if it's from a distance. You have your adoring fans to perform for, remember?"

I nod, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. "I just… I don't want to miss a single moment. I want to be here for all of it."

"And you will be," Mariah says firmly. "Maybe not physically, but in every way that matters. We're family, Ecco. That doesn't change, no matter how far apart we are."

I hug her tighter, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo, and shove down my sadness.

This is Mariah's moment. I don't want anything to cast a shadow over her joy.

The next morning, I trudge out alone to Deandra's apartment building, ready to get some answers. After the weeks of Graeme by my side, it's more than a little odd to be without him.

But I need to do this on my own.

I can't believe Deandra's kept this place all these years, when she barely comes back to Elderberry Falls these days. The off-white paint in the hallway is chipped and faded, and the carpeting threadbare. It's a far cry from the cozy charm of my dad's house or the Moonflower Inn.

It's hard to stand here and not think of the disappointing visits with my mother once she finally returned to claim partial custody. I can almost hear the echoes of slammed doors and our raised voices.

Part of me wants to turn tail and run, to bury the hurt and confusion of the past and never look back.

I force myself to take a breath, to remember why I'm here. For years, I've been running from my siren heritage, terrified that fully embracing my powers would mean becoming like Deandra—selfish, flighty, unreliable.

Our heart-to-heart at the Orc's Anvil shifted something in me. For the first time, I'm starting to see my mother as a whole person, flaws and all.

And if she can find the courage to face her demons, then surely I can do the same.

Squaring my shoulders, I rap my knuckles against the door, the sound echoing in the empty hallway.

There's a beat of silence, then the click of a lock and the creak of hinges. And suddenly, Deandra is standing before me, her violet eyes—so like my own—wide with surprise.

"Ecco," she says. "I didn't expect... Please, come in."

She steps aside, ushering me into the small apartment. It's sparsely furnished, modern but impersonal. A vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill, the only splash of color in an otherwise drab space.

I realize with a pang that Deandra never really made herself a home here—even after all these years.

Deandra gestures for me to sit, her movements graceful and fluid even in this cramped space. I perch on the edge of the sofa, my hands twisting nervously in my lap.

"I'm glad to see you," Deandra says, settling into the armchair across from me. "I wasn't sure where your head was at after our last conversation, and I've been hoping…" She trails off, and looks away, taking a breath. Clearly this is tough for her, too. She looks back at me. "I've been hoping you'd want to keep talking."

I nod. "I want to learn," I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. "About my powers, about what it means to be a siren. I don't want to be afraid anymore."

Deandra's answering smile is radiant, transforming her face into something stunningly beautiful.

"Oh, my darling girl," she murmurs, reaching over to clasp my hands in hers. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say those words."

She squeezes my hands gently before releasing them, leaning back in her chair.

"The first thing you need to understand," Deandra begins, her tone taking on a more serious note, "is that all sirens have slightly different abilities, just like any other magical species."

My mind races as I try to absorb every word. This is the knowledge I've been craving, the piece of myself I've been missing for so long.

Deandra continues, her hands moving in expressive gestures as she speaks. "Everyone sees our main power as seduction, and it's certainly true that there's a lot of power in that direction. You'd be surprised how helpful it can be, honestly?—"

She sees my sharp look and switches gears hastily.

"But anyway, that's not entirely accurate. Our true power lies in influencing emotions —emotions of any kind, and different sirens have different specialties."

"Influencing emotions?" I ask. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Deandra smiles knowingly. "It means, my dear, that we can make people feel things. Joy, sorrow, desire, fear… all of it is within our grasp."

It's a heady thought, the idea of wielding that kind of power.

"But how do we do it?" I ask doubtfully, remembering the escapades of my youth. "Without losing control? How do we make sure we don't hurt anyone?"

Deandra's tone is brisk. "That, my darling, is the true challenge of being a siren. It takes practice, discipline, and a whole lot of trial and error to see what works best for you. But there are things you can do to get started."

She rises from her chair, crossing the room to a small bookshelf tucked into the corner. Her fingers skim over the spines of the books, finally settling on a battered tome with a deep green cover. She pulls it from the shelf, a cloud of dust rising in its wake.

"This," Deandra says, holding the book out to me, "is where you begin."

I take the book from her hands, the leather cover cool and smooth beneath my fingertips. The pages are yellowed and brittle with age, the ink faded but still legible. I'm probably being silly, but it's like I can sense the weight of history in my hands, the secrets of generations of sirens bound within these pages.

I want to dig in immediately, but I know I won't be able to focus here, in this space that's full of so many memories.

Instead, I stand, hugging the book to my chest.

"Thank you, Mom." The word is unfamiliar on my tongue after calling her "Deandra" for so many years, but it seems right to try.

She pulls me into a hug, and I let her clasp me close for the first time in a long, long time.

"Always, my darling. Always."

A few days later, I sit cross-legged on the floor of our suite at the Moonflower Inn, the ancient book of siren lore open in front of me. I mindlessly brush aside falling enchanted rose petals as I pore over the descriptions of siren abilities and the meditations designed to unlock their—our—deepest potential.

My eyes are bleary from reading the tiny text. I've been at this for hours, trying every technique the book recommends, pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion in my quest to understand my own power.

With a deep breath, I close my eyes and begin the latest meditation once again.

My body stills, my mind focused and clear as I reach for the depths of my own abilities. I breathe in the aroma of woodsmoke from the fireplace, grounding myself in the present moment.

As I sink deeper into the trance, there's a subtle change in the energy that flows through me. My skin tingles, my blood humming with a new, unfamiliar frequency. I acknowledge the feeling and slowly embrace it, moving further, pushing past the surface level of my powers.

My consciousness expands, my awareness stretching beyond the confines of my physical form.

And then, with a suddenness that steals my breath, I break through.

The world falls away, replaced by a realm of pure emotion and raw, untamed energy. It's exhilarating and terrifying all at once, a rush of sensation that threatens to overwhelm me.

My consciousness stretches further and further outward. The feelings that wash over me from outside the inn are dark and tumultuous, a maelstrom of grief and anger and despair. They buffet my body and mind like gale-force winds.

I gasp, my eyes flying open.

My heart pounds, and I breathe deeply, struggling to hold on to this awareness, this power. I've always known that my voice could sway hearts and minds, could make people experience things—make them relax, make them happy, make them, well, attracted to me.

But this... this is something new, something terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

This makes all of that look like nothing.

Deandra was right—I have the power to do more than just influence affection and happiness. As I hover in this space between worlds, I feel the first stirrings of my true potential.

And it's more profound, more powerful than anything I've ever known.