THE FIRST TIME I HEARD HER SING

The first time I heard her sing, I thought I was dying.

Not in a dramatic way.

Okay, maybe a little dramatic.

But when you’re standing alone on an old pier at almost midnight and some girl starts singing from somewhere beneath the water, dying feels like a pretty reasonable conclusion.

I froze.

The ocean had been loud all night, waves crashing against the rocks, wind pulling at my hoodie, the wooden boards under my shoes creaking every few seconds.

Then suddenly, none of that mattered.

All I could hear was her.

Her voice was soft at first. Barely louder than the water.

But it did something to me.

It made my chest ache.

Like I missed someone I had never met.

I stepped closer to the edge.

The song grew clearer.

I couldn’t understand the words, but somehow I knew what they meant.

Come closer.

So I did.

One step.

Then another.

By the time my shoes touched the very edge of the pier, my brain had completely stopped doing its job.

Which, looking back, was extremely inconvenient.

I leaned forward.

The water below was completely black.

Then two pale eyes opened beneath the surface.

I stumbled backward so fast I nearly fell.

The singing stopped.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then a head slowly rose from the water.

She looked human.

Mostly.

Long black hair clung to her shoulders. Her skin looked almost silver under the moonlight, like she hadn’t seen the sun in years.

And her eyes…

They weren’t pale.

They were glowing.

Not brightly, but enough to make my stomach twist.

She stared at me.

I stared back.

Neither of us moved.

Then she smiled.

And I saw the teeth.

Small.

Sharp.

Definitely not human.

“Oh, hell no.”

She tilted her head.

“What?”

I blinked.

“You speak English?”

Her eyebrows pulled together.

“You were expecting Latin?”

I stared at her.

She stared at me.

Then, somehow, she looked offended.

“You were singing.”

“Yes.”

“And I almost walked into the ocean.”

“Yes.”

I waited.

She waited.

“That’s it?”

She shrugged.

I actually laughed because apparently my survival instincts had abandoned me completely.

“You almost killed me.”

“I didn’t almost kill you.”

“You hypnotized me!”

“I called you.”

“With magic!”

She rolled her eyes.

“I cannot help that humans are weak-minded.”

“Excuse me?”

She smiled again.

This time, I noticed something strange.

She looked nervous.

Not guilty.

Nervous.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the pier.

That was when I saw the webbing between them.

I should have left.

Every normal part of my brain was screaming at me to turn around, get into my car, and pretend this never happened.

Instead, I sat down.

Her expression changed immediately.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

“I can see that.”

“Good. Just making sure the glowing eyes didn’t affect your vision.”

She frowned at me.

I grinned.

For some reason, that made her look even more annoyed.

“What are you?” I asked.

She went quiet.

The waves moved around her like they were avoiding touching her.

Finally, she whispered,

“You already know.”

A chill ran down my back.

“Siren.”

Her eyes met mine.

“Yes.”

I swallowed.

Every story I had ever heard came rushing back to me.

Beautiful women.

Songs.

Sailors walking willingly into the sea.

Bodies disappearing beneath the waves.

“You kill people.”

Her face changed.

Just slightly.

“I have.”

That answer should have terrified me more than it did.

Instead, I asked,

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

She looked away.

For the first time since she appeared, she looked almost… embarrassed.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s comforting.”

“You should leave.”

“But you called me here.”

“I know.”

“So clearly we both make bad decisions.”

Her eyes snapped back to mine.

Then she laughed.

It was quiet.

Nothing like her song.

This sound was real.

Warm.

Almost human.

And somehow, that scared me more.

Because monsters weren’t supposed to laugh like that.

They weren’t supposed to look lonely.

They weren’t supposed to hold onto the edge of an old pier like they were afraid you might leave.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She hesitated.

“Maris.”

“I’m Noah.”

“I know.”

My stomach dropped.

“What do you mean, you know?”

She smiled.

Sharp teeth.

Glowing eyes.

Beautiful face.

“I’ve been watching you for three weeks.”

I stared at her.

She stared back.

And that should have been the moment I ran.

Instead, like an idiot, I asked,

“Why?”

Maris slowly lifted herself higher from the water.

Behind her, something moved beneath the surface.

A long tail.

Dark scales.

Almost black.

The moonlight caught against them like glass.

She looked at me like she hated what she was about to say.

“Because you are the first human I have ever sung to…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“…who tried to fight the song.”

I remembered stopping at the edge.

The second where something inside me had screamed to wake up.

Maris moved closer.

“And now,” she whispered, “I want to know why.”

The ocean crashed beneath us.

I should have been afraid.

I was.

But not enough.

So I stayed.

And somewhere deep beneath the pier, something else started singing.