Page 49 of Moist!

chapter four

CANTIS

It was also the first time I’d seen a man live.

I must have been twenty-seven or so when my adult teeth finally came in.

I was so excited to participate in my first hunt.

I wanted to make my ancestors proud by making the world a safer place.

The sirens with me that day had gone the extra mile to encourage me by letting me be the one to sniff out and lead the chorus to my first boat of human men.

I didn’t know what my voice would sound like, as children are forbidden to practice lest they ruin their voice before they’re ready, but there was no need to worry.

When I broke the surface of the sea and opened my mouth, I was proud to find that my body knew exactly what to do.

I followed my instincts, sang that first note, and my fellow sirens joined in, implying their approval.

The men above us rocked the small boat as they crept closer and finally fell into the waters, one after the other. Sirens began to eat around me, tearing flesh from bone, but I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to sing, to defend.

One man remained in his seat. Even when his peers’ bones had been discarded to the sea floor, he still didn’t move save for the shivers that wracked his body. I wasn’t aware men could resist our song, but when I stopped singing, I realized why.

“Carina, Beth, Ashtyn, Jude, Carina, Beth, Ashtyn, Jude.” He was whispering the names of the women in his life.

I wondered who those women were to him, important enough to keep his mind clear and body dry.

But I never got the chance to ask. Three sirens grabbed hold of the boat on one side and tipped him over. He was torn apart in moments.

Shock coursed through me like a jagged lightning strike.

I had always been taught that sirens didn’t kill for food, and certainly not for fun.

We only kill by song, we only use our voice to protect.

It was our calling, our reason for existence.

I didn’t eat that day, and I haven’t eaten men since then.

A one-siren protest to the disturbance I witnessed that night.

The same questions have plagued my mind all these forty-six years since. What would have happened if I had been brave enough to speak up, to stop them? And who else had died due to my fellow sirens’ prejudice?

As much as I try not to visit the past, my heavy guilt has finally become of use; it distracts me from the heady caress of the mermaid I carry.

With a bald head, sharp eyebrows, and bold cheekbones, I’ve never seen a single creature like her.

As I explain the story to Serafina, her gentle silence is a balm to my soul.

There’s no telling me to get over it, or flippant remark that he deserved his end.

Just a gentle squeeze of her hand, and the space to let the waves carry my words away.

As we move through the waters, I realize I shouldn’t have been so short with Serafina earlier. Her asking me questions and trying to get to know me has been the most interesting conversation I’ve had in years. I was just nervous and out of my element.

I haven’t been able to allow myself to trust another siren.

Which has meant no family, no community, and no safety net for me.

Other sea creatures have filled in the gap when they could.

I found a friend in a sea otter once, but he couldn’t leave his bevy to travel with me, and I didn’t expect him to.

My top priority has been my purpose for so long, not as a siren, but as me, Cantis, that it’s nerve wracking to think what could be happening while I’m distracted with Serafina.

But I promised I would take her to her treasure destination, so I will. And talking was actually keeping my mind off things, so perhaps it wasn’t all that bad. She’s been a nice mermaid so far, and we’ve got a long swim ahead of us. I should try to do the same.

“Serafina, if you could be a whale, what kind of whale would you be?”