Chapter 1 – Lamia
LAMIA
Ilie in the bottom of the canoe, staring out at the heavy mist and the dark sky high above.
Every so often the moon peeks out between the clouds, and I feel a longing that echoes down to my very soul.
A longing that hurts almost as deeply as the hunger that leaves my belly sunken and painful.
My stomach rumbles every so often in a way that makes my entire body shake.
How long have I been drifting in this boat? Lost to the world. Praying for a death that will never come.
Too long, my heart whispers.
The air shifts suddenly. So subtly that a human might not have noticed, but I do.
Leaning up in my tiny canoe, I shiver at the moisture that clings to my skin and pull my legs beneath my tattered white dress.
Something is in this mist with me.
But where? And what?
My ears strain. The gentle waves continue to rock my canoe, splashing against it when they make contact. Somewhere not far from me, I swear I hear a break in the waves.
Subtle. But there.
My lips curl back and my fangs extend. I know there are monsters in these waters.
The problem? None of them could possibly be as dangerous as me.
Every muscle in my body tenses as I shift into a crouch. Ready to attack. My mind sorts through the many different creatures I might encounter in these deep waters.
I smile. A battle is just what I need.
And blood to drink. No matter how foul the creature might be.
My eyes continue to strain into the darkness. Into the mist. Waiting. Watching.
Like a nightmare, the ship parts the fog, dwarfing my tiny boat. In the darkness, it feels like a pirate’s ship, or a ghost ship, manned by the souls of the damned.
At least I hope it is…for their sake.
The ship slides through the waves with ease. And I know if I stay still, it’ll slip right past me.
I hold myself tense, hoping that it’ll be gone soon. But as my gaze slides over it, I see a man leaning over the edge. He’s a human, with a kind face and a faraway expression.
Everything inside of me turns to ice, and I hold my breath, hoping and praying he won’t see me. But his gaze lifts and meets with mine. His eyes widen, and I know I’ve been seen.
He moves away from the edge. I recognize shouting. A cold sweat trickles down my spine and the boat moves past me.
I never pray to the gods, but I almost do. I almost ask them to let the human vessel pass safely. For the man to forget he saw me.
But even to protect these humans, I won’t pray to the fucking gods. They don’t deserve my prayers.
Time passes, and I imagine the humans are safe.
That they escaped a fate worse than death.
Images emerge in my mind of the ship being discovered weeks later by other humans.
Of them walking the planks of the ship to find the wood painted in blood.
To find bodies in every direction, their throats torn open.
Their final expressions ones of suffering and fear.
It’s just a thought. But a thought so real it’s almost like it is. Like I could blink and find myself standing on that very deck, covered in their blood. Finally full. And the monster every tale has described me to be.
But if the man just does the smart thing and forgets he saw me…
Out of the mist, the man comes in a canoe not much larger than mine. He turns the paddles with strength and eagerness. Then, he glances back at me and heads straight for my boat.
“No,” I whisper. Then louder, “No, turn back!”
He keeps going. “It’s okay,” he shouts over the sound of the waves. “We’re here to save you!”
“No!” The word tears from my throat. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll die. Do you understand me? You’ll die!”
He doesn’t slow until his boat comes alongside mine, and then deep brown eyes lock with mine. “It’s okay. You’ve been alone. Without food or water. The mind plays tricks.”
“That’s just it,” I say, as his paddle catches my boat. “It’s been so long since I fed. Too long.”
“Come into my boat,” he says. “I’ll take you to safety.”
A roar rushes into my ears. I can see his pulse in his throat. Beating rapidly. I can smell him on the air. I can almost taste him.
I leap onto the man. He cries out and hits the bottom of the boat. I shift above him, my lower half becoming that of a snake. I open my lips, and I know the moment he sees my fangs. His eyes widen, and he struggles beneath me, but a human is no match for my semi-immortal strength.
He’ll die. Quickly. His life snuffed out like the flame on a candle.
And I’ll be full. My belly no longer aching.
But my heart full of regret.
I lean down, shoving his head to one side. The beat of his pulse is like a song, calling me to it.
“Please,” he begs.
His pathetic word barely cuts through the madness of my hunger. Of the monstrous part of me that I hate.
I lean closer and lick his pulse.
“I have a wife,” he says, and I can hear the tears in his words.
I open my mouth, saliva dripping.
“My kids,” he cries.
I freeze.
“My children. They’ll lose me forever. I’ll never see them again,” he cries, his words are a panicked, desperate rambling.
I think of my own children.
The ones I killed.
A shiver runs down my spine. I’m a monster. I need to eat. And this man was foolish enough to come right to me.
“They need me,” he says.
Like my children needed me. And I failed them. In every way.
Could I really take a father away from his children?
A shudder moves through my body as I fight my needs. They tear at me, claw at me, begging me to give in. To finally eat. To be full. They whisper that I don’t know his children. That I owe them nothing.
But I don’t bite him.
And I swear I hear my children’s laughter echo from the mist. Tears prick the corners of my eyes.
“Go home and hug your children,” I say, the words heavy in my throat.
Diving into the water, I shift back so I have human legs and swim away from the man and the boat. Away from the glorious meal I needed so desperately. And away from the bloody memories that haunt me, night and day.
As the hours pass, I manage to leave behind the man and the ship. But not my memories. Those are as much as curse as my snake form.
And just as inescapable.
I’d thought using the canoe from the siren to get away from my island for a time might help me forget about my loneliness and hunger.
I was wrong.
There is no escape from what I am.