Page 14 of A Siren Song for Christmas

Sirens couldn’t bear to look at a siren who had lost their mate. The mere thought was too terrible for them to consider. Too painful to comprehend. Too heart-wrenching to witness.

Many sirens died after their mate’s death. It was said their hearts gave out with the strength of their grief. But Malachi’s heart had not given out. Even if there had been days when he’d wanted it to. Maybe it was because he was too young. Or maybe he just didn’t love Forathia enough.

Somehow Malachi’s heart not stopping made it all the worse. It made him feel unworthy of his lost mate. So instead Malachi had been stuck amongst the living without the love of his life.

And after Forathia died, the other sirens had openly avoided him, like Taranna had. His siblings would swim away if he approached. Even his own parents could not bear to look at him. It was as if they were afraid that if they bore witness to his loss, it might cause the death of their own mates.

So Malachi left his family, his friends, and the ocean without a word.

For a while, he moved around before settling in the city of Anorra. There he grieved. He grieved for the death of his mate and for the loss of his home, family, and friends.

The days passed. He lived. Or at least, he went through the motions of the living.

Eventually, Malachi turned and made his way back to his harvested plants. He needed to get back to the emporium and the existence that stretched endlessly before him.

Chapter

Eight

“Here you are.” Malachi placed the mayaweed in a sack and tied it closed. He placed it beside a jar of fresh carrageen moss on the counter. “Will there be anything else, Ms Aiida?”

“Dried dulse, please.” The selkie pushed her luscious locks behind her ear.

“Of course.” Malachi went to the large wooden cabinet where he kept most of the dried plants. His hand slid along the dark oak before he found the drawer with “Dulse” engraved on the front.

Whilst the Aquatic Horticultural Emporium specialised in living plants, Malachi tried to keep popular dried aquatic plants in stock too.

Customers bought his plants for a variety of reasons. Some bought them for healing or restorative purposes. Others, like the selkie, bought the plants for food. Some used the plants as ingredients for magic potions or spells. Then there were those who bought the plants in tanks to be used as decorations.

Malachi brought the drawer containing the dulse to the counter. “How much would you like?”

“About a handful should be more than enough, Mr Marin,” the selkie said.

Malachi measured it out and put it into a cloth bag. “Will there be anything else today?”

Ms Aiida shook her head. “That will be all. Thanks.”

Malachi wrapped up the order as the customer paid. Then, with the packages under her arms, she left.

Malachi would need to order more dulse soon. It grew along the coast in the ocean to the north. Malachi had eaten it when he lived there. It had been one of Forathia’s favourites.

Over the years, the intensity of his grief had numbed from a sharp, biting pain to a softer, duller ache. That ache had settled inside him, becoming a part of him.

Today the ache had intensified. Which it did sometimes. Probably because he’d seen the mated sirens that morning.

On days like today, Malachi longed to switch the sign to closed and go upstairs. He’d not light the fire or lantern. He’d just sit in the cold, dark gloom, letting the misery flow over him like waves. But he’d learnt not to give in to that feeling. It did him no good.

Better to keep moving. Keep going. One foot after the other. He could tend to the plants. Even if it didn’t help with how he felt, at least he’d know his plants would be well cared for. That was something.

He took out his tools and began to go through the emporium, focusing on their needs and pushing away his own. “How are you, my dears? Is everyone well and healthy? You are all looking well.”

He removed dead leaves. He pruned and trimmed. He checked water levels, salinity, and temperatures. One of the main reasons his plants thrived was because he was a siren. They grew stronger hearing him talk and feeling his touch. A siren’s special skill.

His throat tightened. But of course he did not do the one thing that would truly make them flourish. He would not sing for them. Aquatic plants flourished hearing a siren’s song. But he could not sing. Even for them.

The store door creaked open. Malachi turned.

Mr Berry entered, his cheeks and nose flushed red from the cold. He tugged off his gloves and shoved them into a pocket as he looked around the emporium. He spotted Malachi. A smile blossomed across his lips.