The Collector |Sequel to Collector of Odd|

XIII | Keeper of the Grave|

Something meaningful.

      Her body was a masterpiece in her eyes, her skin tanned and flawed to a fault. She stood stark naked in front of a cracked shard from a mirror in the Captains living area. Her sandy hued irises danced across the plum colored bruised that littered her rib cage. Finger marks, half of a palm that had pressed down just a little too hard. Her lips curled over her teeth in a grin, silver capped canines sparkled in the dim lighting from a lit lantern. Her lips were abnormally red, a sharp contrast to her normally pale pink. The area was stained, blood having sat a little too long on the delicate skin. Mirela had an odd fascination with the color on her lips. She couldn't remember the exact moment when she realized what exactly she was, but it all made sense after she figured it out. Men were always an easy target for her, a bat of her eyes, a coy smile. They'd kill for her if she really wanted them to. The call she had to water, something she never realized due to that fact she was always near it.

      Her left hand ran over her rib cage, her fingers prodding at the bruises before she continued her exploration over the swell of her breast and to her right collarbone. Bubbled scar tissue met her fingers, the scars angry red and sad purple. The scar slowly crept up the right side of her neck just enough to be noticed before it flared across the top of her shoulder and scorched her back. The face of Blackbeard appeared in the cracked glass, his eyes roaming her scar just like she was. Her gaze shifted to his bare torso, her lips curling into a smug grin at the blood that painted his collarbones. She could just make out the canine sized holes in his skin, the wounds puckered and black just on the edges.

      Neither one spoke, nor did they reach out to touch like one would expect lovers to do. Each just looked upon the marks the other had left on them with self satisfied expressions. They were truly a destructive pair. Mirela left him in front of the mirror, her movements quick as she dressed. Without so much as a fleeting glance or a whispered goodbye the Tridents siren left in search of another Captain. Mirela had many things to discuss with the Captain of the Black Pearl. It was time the Sparrow learned what exactly was going on.

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      Jack was surprisingly easy to find, considering he had been slumming around with the Captains daughter. She couldn't be angry with him though, not when she was toying with Angelica's father. She could be angry with Angelica though, she saw no reason her hatred for the woman couldn't burn and grow with each breath. The woman tried too much in her eyes, she had this twisted agenda that made her feel in control, when in fact the woman controlled nothing. Not her father, not her ex-lover, and certainly not the crew. With a slow blink to clear her thoughts, Mirela took quick steps to the oddity that was her Sparrow.  He was leaned against the mast of the ship, his arms crossed and his shoulders slightly curled. Mirela wasn't sure if he was trying to hide from someone, or simply protect his front.

      Siding up next to him with her spine against the mass as well, Mirela copied his actions with a more animal like appearance to them. Her top lip was curled over her left canine, that silver capped tooth sparkling at each sway of the ship. Neither spoke, both too caught up in thoughts the other knew not. Mirela wanted to tell him exactly what had happened on her adventure, warn him of the danger he was being around her, but she couldn't. Her throat would close each time she went to speak, a small part of her feared he'd truly leave. That he would turn his back on her when she just got him back and even though fully they weren't back to each other. This was the first step to mending her broken soul.

      "Yer a Siren." His words shook her from her thoughts, the sound of her swallowing air echoed in both their ears. Mirela turned to look at him, her hazel orbs wavering with uncertainty. Jack didn't meet her eye, his brown pools were locked on something in the horizon. His face didn't give her anything either, causing the lost soul to straighten her spine to show a sense of false courage. 

      "Aye. Always have been apparently." Jack did look at her then. Brown met light hazel, hazel that for once weren't guarded. Jack could see her worry, see the fear that she tried so hard to keep at bay. He smiled at her, a closed lip smile that didn't reach his eyes, but a gesture that eased some of the lass's fear. 

      "Said trait, if you will, was locked away. Our dear Calypso apparently put a locking spell on it when I was merely a child." Mirela's eyes drifted away from Jacks, her gaze turning to the horizon as she got lost in the information she had come across. 

      "How did ye break the spell?" His voice was soft, his arms uncrossing as he turned to lean his shoulder against the mass so he could study Mirela's side profile. Her face was lax, though it was an oddly peaceful expression Jack could locate no emotion from her. The mask she had built on her journey leaving no cracks for him to pick at. 

      "I died." Her response shocked him, not because of the words, but because of the depth behind her words. She hadn't just died in some fight, her life hadn't been taken from her without her consent. Her voice held the conviction of a person who had accepted death, who had wanted death. 

      Silence filled the air between them, nothing being said as they watched the sun lower to kiss the watered they sailed on. They would be reaching White Cap Bay sooner than the siren wished. Jack's left hand brushed her elbow like a cool breeze, the back of his fingers drug tauntingly across her forearm before his hand was turning and he was untangling her arm and linking his fingers with her own. A silent comfort that Mirela didn't realize she needed. Her eyes flashed briefly to his face, her sandy hued irises took in the sharpness of his jaw and the prominent cheek bone that was exposed to her. Her tongue ran across her top lip without her knowledge, her pupils dilating as she drank in the man that was Jack Sparrow. As her tongue dipped back into her mouth, the muscle caught against a too sharp canine. Her jaw ticked. 

     "The rumors are true." Her voice was a whisper, grabbing Jack's attention enough for him to turn to her. One brow raised. 

      "We feed off men." In that moment the ever famous Captain Jack Sparrow lost all coherent thought.