32. A Letter From Granny
A LETTER FROM GRANNY
The irony that I originally received a note that led me to the shell, and now the shell is leading me to a note, is not lost on me.
I reach with shaking fingers to retrieve the parchment. Jackal’s hand hovers over mine, as though he might stop me. Instead, he waits.
When I grab the parchment, nothing happens. The lid doesn’t slam shut. Snakes don’t rain from the ceiling. Nothing like what I’d anticipate from an action film or a book.
The note is just a note. Just words on paper.
“What does it say?” Starla calls from her place on the sand, not bothering to get up quite yet.
I focus on the writing, anticipating steps for a ritual or something, to break the curse here and now.
Wretched Descendant,
Wretched, because you are doubtless as trapped by this curse as I am. My voice hindered, its very use bringing destruction instead of the results I crave.
I cannot sing even a note now without fear that these walls will crash down around me. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.
I allowed myself to be fooled. To think that someone I lured to me with my song had truly fallen for me, but it was a lie. A self-deception of the worst kind. When his real love returned, he was more than happy to leave me, along with the child he will never know.
I am left with a curse. If the witch is to be believed, it will follow my family until another siren is born.
I almost hope you don’t exist. That no one ever shows up to read this letter.
Maybe the witch is less powerful than she claims, but I can feel it in my own ruined magic that she might be right.
If her curse really is strong enough to linger for generations, may you have better luck than I.
If you have found me, you found the shell.
I will pass it down through the family. It cost a fortune to have made, but a siren can sing a fortune to herself, and I had mine long before my song was stolen from me.
A little gift, to ensure you had at least a chance of meeting the requirements for breaking this curse.
The shell can hold magic. It can contain a voice.
You must be willing to relinquish your song to the witch who holds your fate in her hands.
It’s more than I am able to do, and I cannot fathom how you will manage it. To trust a witch? To trust the witch with the power to take your voice and use it as her own forever? Unthinkable.
But I did not create this curse. I can only abide by its rules.
If by some miracle of the tides you have made it here with the shell, and the witch, you must sing into it and offer your voice to her.
Then, you must return home. This is the most important piece.
The song must be relinquished here, where the curse originated, but it can only be returned in your own waters.
Maybe your home is close, and this part of the task will be simple.
If your fate has taken you far from these waters, you will be facing a journey, but you must wait until you’re at the correct location before the witch gives your voice back.
If you do not, the song will be lost forever.
The witch decides your fate. Once in your own waters, she can give your song to you, or she can take it for herself. Another trick set by the one who cursed us. After all, why would any witch return a power this strong when she could just as easily keep it for herself?
I was unable to best my foe in this life, but I did my research. I dedicated years to it. My voice has faded, but her gifts will as well. She has tied too much magic into this curse, and her line’s key for such magic will dwindle.
Breaking the curse may also return it. If you must bribe the witch, do so with that knowledge.
Inktus
I squeeze my fists around the paper, emotions a. If the two of them could have made peace, we wouldn’t be here now. I’d have a song I was unafraid to use, and Starla might have a powerful key.
Their selfishness spilled over through generations, and there’s no way to take it back. Only to move forward.
Without a word, I pass the letter to Starla. Tears swim in her eyes as she reads. When she’s finished, she passes it back to me.
“It all comes down to your choice, Leena. Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do,” I say without a moment of hesitation.
My great-great-grandmother may have thought the terms of the curse were impossible; Starla’s ancestor probably thought the same when she set them.
We’ve already proven them wrong. The hardest step is already done.
“When this is over, you might have a stronger key. One for cursing,” I tell her.
Or maybe she’ll just have the ability to pass it on. Either way, a warlock like Azriel Taylor would care deeply about such a detail. Starla just waves the possibility off.
“Since when have I needed a stronger key to be fabulous?”
“You’re right. You are amazing just as you are.”
“Although I wouldn’t mind a bit more pep in my step right now. Does the letter say anything about that?”
“No, but”—a grin spreads across my face— “you do realize this means we are related.”
Distantly. Even so, Starla’s grin spreads to match my own.
I pluck the shell necklace from the headstone, joining my friend and kneeling in the sand in front of her.
“How do we do it?” she asks.
Inktus didn’t specify.
I answer the only way that makes sense to me.
Grammy treats magic like a living, breathing being. She acts like she can feel its intentions, and for once, I understand. Peace washes over me as I begin to sing, and I feel no pain.
“I trust you with my voice. Take it.”
Warmth works its way up and out of my throat, leaving a cooling sensation behind. The shell glows bright, like a star in the night sky. I hand it to Starla.
“It’s so warm. Did it work? Can you talk?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, answering my own question. I put a hand to my throat.
I try to sing instead. Nothing comes out.
“I wanted to see the song at full force!” one of the naiads sulks.
“Maybe another time. She could come back,” one of the others consoles her.
I’m doubting it. While they have technically been helpful, I feel no desire to return to this place, but it feels rude to say so.
Starla pulls the necklace over her head.
“We’d better hurry so we can get this back to you,” she says. “Thomas? Can you take us back to your boat? Then we can sort the overseas bit once we’re back at the docks with cell service?”
He grins.
“I’d be delighted! Whale Express is in operation again!”
Thomas lets us out into the waves, having somehow managed to find his sailboat in the water, even though I’m sure it has to have moved from where we left it.
“Told you I’ve got an excellent sense of direction,” he says before anyone can question it.
We all crowd onto the boat, and Thomas dons his weathered captain’s hat and a pair of khaki shorts so he’s not completely nude as we make our way to shore.
The rest of us have clothes tucked in the boat that do not smell like whale breath. Whether he brushes his teeth or not, spending more than a day out in the open water has left everyone smelling a bit fishy. Not that I’m going to complain. If anything, Thomas deserves endless thanks from us.
“We truly could not have done this without you,” I tell him.
“Least I could do for Malcolm, and you’re all such nice folks. It was a pleasure, honestly. If I’m ever in Carolina Beach, I’ll look you up.”
“I’ll give you whatever you’d like to eat or drink free at the Sea Wench,” Starla declares.
“I don’t run a restaurant, and I’m not sure what help a dive service would be to a whale, but I’d be happy to act as a swim buddy if you’d like me to show you around the local waters,” I volunteer.
Thomas grins at us both but somehow looks more excited about a personalized tour of the local fish than he does Starla’s cuisine.
“I’m guessing you can relate to the mermaids and naiads a bit?” I ask him.
He nods.
“Oh yes. I do love a good social moment, but I spend large amounts of time swimming through the seas by myself. They’re both me. Both important parts of myself. Just because they’re opposite qualities doesn’t mean they can’t coexist.”
“Huh. I guess you’re right.”
I ponder his words as he goes off to talk with the guys. I watch the water as we near the docks. The sun is setting behind us, and it’s beautiful.
“Opposites coexisting,” I say.
I’m not about to fool myself that my anxious thoughts will go away. It’s healthier, I think, to accept and cope with them than to try to defeat my own mind.
But I believe that I can accept being a deadly supernatural as well as a compassionate person.
That’s something I could do.
And a powerful siren, but still someone who will use her song for good.
When we reach the docks, Thomas lets us off. He’s already untying the boat before we’re off the wooden planks, preparing to set sail once more.
“I’d love a warm shower and a sleep on a real bed,” Starla moans.
“I’m pretty certain the smell of fish has leaked into my stone,” Exos adds.
“We should be able to call for a plane now,” Jackal says.
“Put a charter on the coven’s tab. I want to return Leena’s voice as soon as possible—and fill Grammy in on how everything went with my father. Not to mention check on my bar.”
She has her cell phone pulled out before the rest of us.
“Eureka! A signal!” she cries as she holds the device up in the air.
A few individuals milling around the docks look at us, and Jackal laughs.
“Just another loud, obnoxious, American tourist,” he teases her with a good-natured elbow to the ribs.
She puts on her poshest accent, reminiscent of her father.
“I’ll have you know that my behavior is above reproach, good sir.” Her smile falls from her face when she brings her phone back down and gets a good look at the screen.
“Dear old Dad’s noticed our absence, I guess.” She laughs, but I’d recognize it for fake even if she weren’t clutching her phone like she’s both afraid to let go but wishing she could throw it into the sea.
I check my own cell.
“Great tides!” I’ve got missed calls and texts from Malcolm, Cannon, Shanell, Brody, and even Ginny. If my lawyer is getting involved, we must have missed something important.
“My father has called no less than seventy-two times,” Starla says with a gulp.
I guess running out on a wedding has consequences.