Page 93 of Ensnaring the Siren

It was like a dam release. Other voices began chiming in.

“This is the Wind Catcher. We’re heading in that direction now.”

“Reel ‘Em In, coming to join the party.”

“Never Better. We’re with you.”

And so many others.

These fishermen knew the gulf better than anyone. If anybody was going to find the elusive factory ship, it was them.

Chapter

Thirty-Two

Hand over hand, Nireed scaled the side of The Seriphus, its engines roaring in her ears. Deepest, murkiest depths, it was so loud. The moment she got onboard she’d stuff her ears. With what, she didn’t know, but something. Anything.

Just several more feet and you’re over the side.

Claws dug in the hull, gouging hand holds out of slick, barnacle encrusted metal. Up, up, and up she climbed, fueled by rage, spite, and the desperate need for this all to finally be over. She was so sick of these Surface Dwellers and their nets taking whatever they wanted—her podmates, her friends, the sanctity of her own home.

Slowly, she rose to the gunwale, peering over the edge. Much of the crew appeared to be working out on deck, ten or so men with their backs turned to her, guns holstered at their hips.

She’d have to be careful.

Slinking over the side, Nireed found her footing, each movement quietly taken. The last time she’d been on a Nautic-owned fishing vessel her people had been fighting for their lives. Her side twinged at the memory; the pain of a phantom gunshot wound only just recently healed. She quickly ducked behind a deck box, seeking shelter.

It was a long shot, but she tested her siren song, a low crooning hum.

Shut off the engines. Quiet the ship.

That was the intention, but it wasn’t answered.

Another glance over the deck box confirmed what she’d feared—the crew wore protective ear coverings, the noise canceling kind that silenced siren song. And, begrudgingly, the kind she needed to block out this awful engine.

Hands clasped firmly over her ears, she sank back down, giving herself a moment to breathe, to think. All this racket made it hard to do either.

She scanned her surroundings for something she could plug her ears with and spotted a light gray hoodie abandoned on top a pile of line. Snatching it, she was just about to carve it up when she thought to check the pockets. Sometimes Killian’s crew carried around little orange sponges that they stuck in their ears.

To her delight, there were a couple pairs shoved inside this garment. Tearing into the plastic, she rolled the orange bits with the pads of her fingers and stuffed them inside her ears like she’d seen the crew do.

She sighed quietly to herself. Instant relief.

While the engine was still loud, and she could hear everything going on around her, it took the edge off and didn’t make her feel like her ears might bleed. She could think now.

Where would they hold Lorelei and Lila?

Below deck. Yes, that seemed right.

Making sure The Seriphus crew’s backs were still turned, Nireed darted across deck and down the hatch.

The first room she snuck into appeared to be the crew’s sleeping quarters. It was mostly empty. There was one man snoring obnoxiously in one of the bunks, a dreadful, sawing sound that could easily rival the ship’s engines.

Quietly closing the door, she moved on to check other rooms.

Supplies. Eating area. But no Lorelei or Lila.

They were on this boat somewhere. Beneath the reek of burning diesel, she was picking up faint traces of their scents. Wringing her claws, she peeked around a corner to make sure the way was clear. Two men were coming up the stairs, so she scurried back, dipping inside the room that held all the supplies.

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