Page 2 of A Siren Song for Christmas

I will ask him on a date. Today! I will not stumble or let my nerves get the better of me! Not this time.

And when asked, he hoped Mr Marin would say it sounded like a lovely idea in his gentle, melodic voice.

His heart galloped inside his chest. He licked his dry lips.

“Merry Christmas, Mr Marin,” he rehearsed once again. “I hope this holiday season is filled with magic for you. Would you like to go to the Christmas markets with me?”

He imagined Mr Marin smiling at him. Then nodding. A fragile hope bloomed in his chest. It grew and grew until it engulfed him.

His limbs tingled, and Trent smiled, a real one this time. “It will be a wonderful date, Mr Marin. You’ll see.”

Then an imp hopped past him as she overtook Trent. She glanced at Trent, eyes narrowing. Clearly she had overheard Trent rehearsing.

Trent’s smile dropped. He ducked his head. He really should stop practicing aloud in public if he didn’t want to make a fool of himself!

He slowed his steps so the imp would get further ahead and he could try to get over his embarrassment.

He rehearsed a few more times. But this time, he rehearsedinsidehis head rather than aloud.

A few minutes later, he took a corner and approached the store. His footsteps slowed. The decorative ironwork, wooden facades, and window frames that created the exterior of the shop had been painted green with accents of gold. The sign, also painted in gold, read “Aquatic Horticultural Emporium.”

Large arched windows lined the front of the store. Snow rested on the window ledges. Condensation clung to the glass, obscuring the interior. But a welcoming golden glow exuded. Trent peered in through the windows at the hazy greens and browns beyond.

Trent walked to the door and gripped the handle. He took a breath, turned it, and pushed. The door opened with a low, slow creak.

Warm humidity hit him, a sharp contrast to the wintry air outside. He inhaled, smelling the plants, water, and dampness in the air. Closing the door behind him, he blinked around the room, searching for Mr Marin.

He could see the siren nowhere. But that was no surprise. The store was filled with rows of wooden shelves holding water tanks containing all sorts of plants. Someone could easily be hidden behind them.

The room remained still except for the bobbing and swaying of plants in water. Snow pattered against the glass windows.

Trent walked towards the counter. He passed several large tanks. Sand, stone, or larger rocks lay along the bottoms from which the plants grew. Water lilies floated in one tank. A large pink lotus bloomed amongst tall reeds in another.

He did not recognise most of the otherworldly underwater plants. A glowing feathery green plant grew in one tank. A ball of moss floated in the middle of another. The moss pulsed rhythmically.

He made his way to the counter. Behind the desk was a wall of books. He wondered how they stayed unmouldy in such a damp, humid room. Perhaps they’d been magicked.

He couldn’t sense it though. As a witch, heshouldbe able to sense magic spells. But he really was a rather weak and pathetic witch.

He glanced once more around the room. But since he saw no sign and heard no sound of Mr Marin, he pressed the bell.

The clear, high-pitched sound echoed through the emporium. A moment later, Mr Marin’s head popped out from behind a shelf. In one hand he held a pair of long brass tweezers. He lifted his free hand to his glasses and straightened them. “Mr Berry. Welcome to the Aquatic Horticultural Emporium.”

Chapter

Two

“Good evening, Mr Marin,” Trent said.

Mr Marin stepped out and rose to his full height, a half-head taller than Trent. He placed the tweezers down on a shelf and walked, long, lean limbs moving fluidly towards the counter and Trent.

His smooth blue skin shone in the light from the many lanterns that illuminated the room. Trent’s breath caught as he wondered what it would be like to touch his skin. Would it be cool? Damp? Soft?

Multiple thick tentacles grew from Mr Marin’s head like hair. They hung to different lengths down his back, ending between his waist and knees. But a couple almost reached his ankles.

Mr Marin placed his webbed hands on the counter. If Trent dared, he could reach out and touch him. He held his breath as he imagined sliding his fingers across the wood and entwining their fingers together.

He shook his head. But of course that would be completely inappropriate.