Page 5 of When the Wicked Sing
“I’ll be there before sunrise, but I need a moment alone.”
Aurora gave her a nod before slipping into the waves.
As soon as she was gone, Mariana left the rocks and approached the beach. The waves flowed through her hair, and she wished they could wash away the sick, shameful feeling coursing through her at what she had just witnessed.
A dozen mortals were dead becausetheydidn’t have a solution totheirproblem with the fae. No mortal deserved this.
The cursed were ordered never to take more than one soul per siren at a time, once a month. They were only allowed to call on the weak-minded adults who were no longer in their prime, dying, or sometimes an assaulter in need of penance, as though that made up for all the deaths. As the number of sirens who chose the immortal path grew, so did the number of mortals required to die month after month.
Mariana glared at the silent dark sky and wanted to shout at how unfair it all was. She let her head dip under the water and was about to leave when a flicker of light rippling above the waves caught her attention.
She peeked her head out of the water. A weeping child wrapped in a blue sleeping robe with a lit torch in her hand stood alone on the beach. Her crying eyes were locked on the dark water before her.
Mariana swallowed the painful lump forming in her throat as she wondered who the girl mourned.
Who was taken from her? Who heard the siren song and disappeared under the moonlight into the sea forever?
With her heavy breaths clouding the air in front of her, the little girl sniffled and peered down at her bare feet, taking a nervous step toward the waves. They greeted her with a sweep of salty water. The girl dropped her torch on the sand, the water snuffing out its light, and began walking into the water.
Mariana’s blood ran cold.
Just as the sea grazed the little girl’s stomach and the ends of her curly hair, Mariana quickly lifted her hands and pulled the water away from the child.
The girl stopped, gawking at the churning barrier surrounding her. She lifted her eyes straight into Mariana’s and gasped.
Not knowing what to do, they stared at each other for a long moment before Mariana lifted her hand and gestured for the girl to leave. The child continued to stare at her with puffy eyes.
Guilt washed over Mariana at the thought of what she was about to do. She opened her mouth and began to sing to the little mortal.
Her lips moved carefully, words about hope and love slithering into the child’s ears. Mariana sang softly, as a mother would sing her baby to sleep, influencing the child to return home to her bed and dream of only the best memories. The girl’s mouth lifted into a little smile, and her body obeyed the song.
Mariana finally sank back into the sea when the little girl disappeared through the dense fog and into town. Her heart was a heavy weight in her chest. It dragged her down and settled her on the sandy bottom.
The kisses of a thousand tiny fish began pecking her skin clean of impurities, and she let the lonely bitterness crash down upon her.
Chapter 3
EganVillagewasthelargest mortal settlement in the Andros Islands, a fishing port nestled at the base of craggy cliffs, where pine trees loomed tall and dark like sentinels. The bay stretched out in calm shades of steel blue. Its surface rippled with the morning tide, swaying boats gently as their mooring lines creaked. Smoke curled faintly from scattered chimneys, a sign that a few villagers were beginning their day. Beyond the woods was the Crossing—a land bridge connecting the mortal realm to the fae realm. However, the fae never ventured into the mortal realm; they hated mortals and their scent.
The village itself smelled of dead fish, brine, and musky earth. Mariana wrinkled her nose as she rose from the waves just beyond the port, stepping onto the coarse sand with the water lapping at her legs. She adjusted her white linen dress, the fabric clinging to her form before she expelled the water from her body in one smooth motion, letting it puddle and sink into the sand at her feet. Finger-combing her now-dry hair, she approached a small wooden cabin hidden between the trees.
She knocked on the chipped yellow door, casting a glance at the other silent cabins around her. Most of the villagers were still asleep, but Mariana knew, without a doubt, who would already be awake.
As the sun began to lift from its slumber beneath the horizon, the door creaked open. Celeste’s familiar face appeared, wrinkled and warm, framed by a curtain of soft white hair.
“Morning, sleepyhead!” Mariana greeted, her lips lifting into a genuine smile as she leaned in for a hug.
“I was wondering what time you’d get here today,” Celeste said, wrapping her willowy arms tightly around Mariana in the way that only Celeste could. Lavender wafted from her skin, the scent comforting.
Even with all the storm clouds that loomed in Mariana’s life, Celeste always managed to make her feel safe.
“I’m notthatlate,” Mariana said with mock defensiveness as she stepped back. “The sun isn’t even fully up yet.”
Celeste chuckled, her laugh light and warm as a spring breeze. “If the sky has a touch of light, it’s time to prepare,” she teased, motioning Mariana inside.
The cabin’s interior welcomed her with a burst of color and scents. Herbs and flowers hung in bundles from the ceiling beams, their fragrant oils infusing the air with earthy sweetness. Jars of dried petals and powders lined every available shelf, each labeled with Celeste’s elegant handwriting. And the round table at the center of the room overflowed with more herbs, wax, cloth bags, and strings for bundling.
Mariana often thought of this cabin as a sanctuary. It was a world apart from the cold, dark waters of Salus, whereeverything tasted of salt and decay. Here, she couldsmell.She could breathe deeply and savor the richness of the air, her senses delighting in things she could never find underwater.
