Beneath The Waves

(8) Sirens

Chapter 8

Frankie was in her reoccurring dream again, but she couldn’t shake it off. She had to wait as in her mind, she bobbed along in the small boat, listening to the gentle tinkle as the oars dipped into the water, knowing that any minute now she would be plunging in to that same icy water –

But this time, the dream was slightly different. A pure waterfall of notes trickled through the air, raising the hairs on Frankie’s arms. The singing was beautiful, but eerie and haunting, too. It sent fear whispering through her veins.

Then the dream jumped ahead again, and Frankie was tumbling in the water, screaming in shock as cold, salty waves closed over her head, and kicking frantically as the cool, slimy hand locked around her wrist, squeezing the tendons in an iron grip –

Frankie glanced down, and her insides squirmed in horror. It was the same girl in the picture Tom Peters had shown them. Her lustrous hair fanned out in the water like a halo of gold threads, tinged darker in the murky water. Her eyes were wide open, despite the salt that was making Frankie’s own eyes burn, and she could see they were glinting with hunger. Her face was stretched into a huge, mocking smile.

Frankie kicked out, her foot connecting with the terrifying woman’s face. She burst towards the surface, breaking through the skin of the water into chilly air, but the hand wrapped around her ankle, and then another one of the creatures appeared, just as beautiful but with dark chocolate hair. Her pointed teeth were bared in a threatening grimace, and Frankie noticed gills on the side of her neck, and webs in between her fingers as she reached to lock her hand around Frankie’s throat –

Frankie’s eyes flew open to velvety blackness. She gasped, but the air felt thick and suffocating, like it was choking her. She struggled to sit up, and, barely even conscious of what she was doing, scrabbled for her phone.

She scrolled through her contacts list, pushing a sweaty tangle of hair out her eyes, and then held the phone to her ear as the dial tone buzzed.

“Hello?” Ryan’s croaky voice crackled down the line.

“Hi, Ryan, it’s me.”

“Frankie? What the hell? It’s-” Pause. “Four thirty in the morning!”

“I know. Sorry.” She heard light, padding footsteps, and Tennyson’s eyes glinted out the darkness. She patted the bed, and he happily jumped up. “I had a dream about the Sirens. And I think it might be the future.”

Ryan was quiet for a moment, soaking that up. Tennyson turned around a few times before settling down comfortably on Frankie’s lap. He blew out a soft sigh through his nose. “So basically... you’re saying the Sirens are real.”

“I don’t know. I mean, one of them looked was the one in the picture Peters showed us. And she could breathe underwater, and the other one had gills-”

“Frankie, maybe you were just dreaming about them because of what Peters said.” Ryan’s voice was still groggy with sleep, and she felt a burst of guilt that she’d woke him up so early. It probably could’ve waited until morning. “Y’know, imagination overdrive.”

Frankie was shaking her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “I’ve had this dream before. I mean, not the part with the Sirens in it, but the rest I had, and usually, reoccurring dreams mean it’s the future. And it felt real.” She shuddered at the icy feeling of the hand and the shock of cold water swallowing her up, and stroked Tennyson’s fur to comfort herself.

Ryan rustled quietly. “Go to sleep, Frankie. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Probably a good idea.” Frankie scratched behind Tennyson’s ears, and he growled happily. “Sorry for waking you up so early.”