The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (boyxboy)

CHAPTER 11

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The Merry | Present Day

Slade, cleverly masking any displeasure he feels when Az reports that the siren hasn't spoken, orders the crew to dig out the biggest wash tub they can find. He isn't sure how they manage to get the siren into the thing filled with seawater, but it's clear when he goes back the following day to try speaking to it again that the tub is far too small. That long, golden tail curves up over the rim and stretches down onto the floor. With its hands still chained high above its head, he doubts there's much it can do to try to get comfortable.

Still, being partially submerged appears to be helping: those flaking scales already look like they're healing somewhat. Az can't help but think, however, that if it continues to ignore his attempt to help, not even the biggest tub in the world will help it survive. It's already starting to look bony in places, shimmering skin now sallow and pale.

He thinks about the siren a lot when he's not awkwardly standing in its presence. Maybe too much.

It absolutely would have killed him that day in the water, if it hadn't been interrupted. But can the fox be blamed for killing the rabbit? Isn't killing in its nature? And he can't forget how it tried to stop Slade from slaughtering the other one, how its howled sorrow sounded human. The creature hadn't even had time to absorb the shock before they'd tossed it into a dark room and tortured it into submission.

Az had expected an animal ferocious and feral. Or at least something stoic but devilish. He'd expected to be able to sense the hostility radiating from it, the intent to kill. But now, it's none of those things, and if it feels emotion at all (and Az is positive it does) then it's doing a marvellous job of hiding it.

No wonder it doesn't want to talk, really. Az remembers not wanting to cooperate. Only giving in and doing what they told him because he'd been too afraid to refuse. And the burning anger as Slade spouted nonsense about Az's "lucrative future", as if being here was a good thing and Az should be grateful.

He wishes he could explain in a way that would make the siren believe him.

Because if the siren can cry and shut itself off from the terror, it has to be something different from what they've always believed, right? Everything he's seen can't be the mimicry of a predator. Siren attacks are rare, how could it have spent so much time watching humans that it would know how to imitate them so perfectly?

If he can just get it to trust him, maybe he can help it. Even a little. So it's with a very dangerous sort of curiosity that he attempts to carry out the task Slade has set him.

He tries every day. Multiple times.

The second time he enters the siren's jail, he brings food. A cutting board piled with mackerel, freshly caught. He figures if it's going to eat anything then it's likely to be fish. Its ears twitch, nostrils flare, and something in its body tenses. He could read that as fear or alarm, but that fae perception still flowing through his veins tells him otherwise. He feels the flash of interest in his whole body, but it's gone just as quick, though, as the siren deliberately shuts itself down. The only thing that moves after that is its jaw, tiny movements like it's grinding its teeth.

Unwilling to get much closer than a couple of steps into the room, Az leaves with no success.

By the next day, he fancies himself a little braver. Or just a little more aware that Slade is getting impatient.