Page 62 of Song of Lorelei

They didn’t have far to swim. The Two-Leggers had brought them as close as they possibility could. There was nowhere else to go but down.

At the edge of the pit, each picked up a sizable chunk of sea rock, letting its weight carry them down into the black abyss. Silent, undetectable by sound or touch. Minimal movement meant reduced vibrations, and when sight or scent failed, this was how their kind sensed other creatures.

Down and down they sank.

1,200 feet. A depth the sirens hadn’t seen since their foremothers fled. It was quieter down here, this far from the surface. Silence was a gift, but for the purposes of their mission, it was even more imperative that they take care not to make sound or disturb the water.

As they neared the pit floor, they could make out the light-lit silhouettes of their targets, each laying on a bed of seaweed, fins twitching just enough to keep water movement flowing along their gills. Their bioluminescence glowed soft, flashing in all sorts of patterns while they slept.

None stirred at their approach.

Undine touched down first, signaling to her unit that she reached bottom with a subtle flash from her hands. She was soon followed by the others, who signaled back. They placed the sea rock in their arms gently down into the muck, careful not to make a single sound. With the barest twitches of their fins, they drifted into position. One siren at the head, another at the tail of each male.

Communicating with more subtle flashes of their hands, to ensure their movements stayed in unison, they withdrew the sleeping darts from their pouches and lined up their points.

Undine gave the signal. Three short bursts of dim light.

They jabbed down, needle meeting flesh.

The males awoke, thrashing and hissing, breaking that blessed silence. But Undine and her warriors held them down, waiting for the sleeping medicine to carry them back into a deep slumber. They succumbed quickly.

Save for the little one, whom Aersila gathered into her arms, her siren warrior pairs took a male each, towing them to the surface where the Two-Leggers waited.

Undine followed at a distance, watching her people gradually ascend toward the light.

She smiled.

Chapter Thirty-Five

AERSILA

Her little boy was wary of her. Cruel nature had given him a good reason to be, and for as much as she was proud of his strong instincts—it hurt to see him flinch and hide behind Aquilus, the gold-scaled merman who raised him.

Though he was too small, just a babe, to have memories of the day she gave him up, of the day when she left him near the male pod’s territory swaddled in seaweed, hoping they would adopt and raise him, he would’ve been taught to swim clear of the non-male merfolk.

“You’re safe, Ryn,” Aquilus signed, a soothing quality to his hands’ gentle movement. “No one’s going to hurt you. Your mother, her pod, they were very sick, just like we were very sick, but we’re all healthy again and can be one pod now. A family.” He paused to rest a hand on top the boy’s mess of dark curls, and something yanked in Aersila’s chest to see Ryn gaze up at him with such trust and love.

There was nothing she wouldn’t give to receive that same look one day. “We can talk from afar,” she suggested, even though she yearned to scoop him up into her arms and hold him tight. She would earn her son’s trust and patience in time.

“That sounds reasonable,” Aquilus replied, looking to her boy. “What do you say?”

Ryn nodded, creeping out from behind him.

Though he didn’t stray far from Aquilus’s side, Aersila could now see most of his sleek, silvery form and amber luminescence as he signed, “Father tells me you’re a great trident-wielder.”

She smiled—for herself, for her son, for the merman who saved his life.

While Aquilus wasn’t Ryn’s blood father—the one who was hadn’t survived the sickness that ravaged their species—the gold-scaled merman not only had assumed the role, it appeared he’d also earned the title.

“Are you the best?” Ryn edged closer, curiosity overcoming fear.

There was none better. Not even Undine could best her in trident fighting. “No one’s beaten me yet,” she answered. “It is a heavy weapon, but I am very strong and fast. Have you used one, Ryn?”

He shook his head, glancing to his father when he said, “No. Father says he is terrible at it and would only teach me bad habits.”

Aquilus only chuckled. Must be true.

“I could teach you how if you’d like. Your father, too. It could be a group lesson.”