Siren

Siren - Chapter 33

“I had a feeling my darling daughter was going to need me. Poor girl. Tell me again what happened.”

She smoothed back Clara’s hair from her forehead, dipping a cloth in freezing cold water and running it over her face and neck.

“Gannon gave his life for me. He died because of me. So did the others. It’s all my fault.”

“Did you seduce them into helping you?”

“Of course not!” she cried, feeling queasy again. She reached for the bucket her mother had pilfered from the deck, and wretched.

They were on the bed together, Clara having cried herself tirelessly since they’d left the Edge. She was glad to have her mother there. It was a comfort she hadn’t felt in fourteen years.

Cora continued dipping the cloth in water and running it over Clara’s face.

“Gannon said I was to be his.” She said quietly.

Cora smiled.

“And he was right, dear. Why do you think he abandoned his people altogether?” She laid the cloth on Clara’s neck. “Gannon was a wild man, had no desire to settle down. Gizelle picked him when you were two years old.”

“I was in an arranged marriage?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Replied Cora.

“Just when was I to be told?”

“On your twentieth birthday.”

Clara wondered why Gannon hadn’t reacted badly to her. Why had he even regarded her with a shred of respect? She’d forced him away from everything he’d known. He’d died for her.

“He should have hated me.”

“I suppose,” she replied, smiling, “but he must have seen your beauty and kindness and been entranced.”

Clara was confused. Gannon had said Sirens couldn’t seduce each other.

“That’s not possible.” Mumbled Clara. “He told me Sirens can’t seduce each other.”

Cora laughed heartily.

“It doesn’t mean they can’t feel for one another.” Clara decided not to give it another thought. She had far too many things on her mind already.

She spied the thing her mother had lugged on board.

“What is that?” she asked quietly, her throat hoarse.

Cora chuckled.

“Seems you ran into a bit of trouble just outside Pandeus.” She stood, walking over and pulling the sheet off. At least a hundred glowing flies, large and fat, were hitting the glass, trying to break free. Holes in the top of the jar kept them from suffocating.

“Ice flies!” Clara cried, sitting up. “Gods, I’d nearly forgotten! Poor Cora!”

“Poor whom?” Clara blushed, covering her mouth with her hands.

“It’s… it’s the name of my… horse.” She mumbled. Cora stood up straight, her hands on her hips.

“You named a horse after me?” she cried. “What kind of daughter are you?”

Clara was about to retort angrily that it hadn’t been she who had named it, when she grabbed the bucket, throwing up again. Cora sighed. She sat down on the bed, holding Clara’s long red hair back from her face.

“Clara, I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” Clara looked at her then, expecting to be told she was going to die of some horrible illness. That was why she was sick.