22. In which there is a third hole in the ice #2
“Honestly, I’ve never seen you so uncontrolled. You are like a dancer most of the time.” Out of the swirling white stepped a woman with long hair, red as blood. She had an eyepatch over one eye. And her chest was just how the Intrepid men described it.
Impressive.
And barely covered by a dress that seemed to be made of kelp, though the woman didn’t seem to feel the cold.
Charlotte whimpered, tucked her legs to one side and pushed up on her poles. But before she could slide one ski forward, Odette was by her side, an arm draped over her shoulders.
The blood drained from her face, her heart so loud she could have sworn she could hear it.
Odette leant in and whispered in Charlotte’s ear, “Come, Charlotte. I only want to talk. Just a little friendly chat.”
“I—oh, maybe?” Charlotte stammered, the words tumbling in her mouth, palms slick with sweat.
She found it hard to do anything but agree.
Odette smelled of the freshness of the sea breeze, an undercurrent of brine.
The eye not hidden by the patch was wholly black, with dark lashes.
Her skin was deathly white, like the finest porcelain.
And her voice—Charlotte was musically trained, and this woman’s voice was the most beautiful she had ever heard.
And that was when she knew for sure what she faced.
She had seen the image of the siren in her book.
This woman matched the pictures perfectly.
“You killed James and Victor,” Charlotte managed to squeak out. All thoughts of escape were slowly freezing solid.
“Mmm. Men. They have certain uses, and then…well, then it’s just better to eat them.
” She waved a pale hand, teeth glinting in a white smile, canines slightly elongated.
“Come along. Just a drink. Perhaps we could sing together? You have a lovely voice—I’ve heard you singing when you think no one’s watching. ”
Tears slid down Charlotte’s cheeks. She was going to die. Going to be eaten by a siren.
Odette swiped a tear away. “Don’t cry, love. Take those silly planks from your feet.”
Charlotte found herself doing exactly what Odette said, releasing her boots from the ski bindings.
Odette’s eyes lit up. “Good girl. This way.” She led Charlotte across the ice, her arm draped around her.
Charlotte peered over her shoulder at the footprints that led from her discarded skis.
Hester snapped the spyglass closed, pocketed it and skied forwards as quickly as she could. There was a bundle of something on the snow just ahead.
When she, Arnold and Betty arrived, it was as she had feared. Charlotte’s skis and poles lay in the snow, and a few yards away was a perfectly circular hole in the ice.
“Oh my God.” Betty fell to her knees by the skis. “No. Not Charlotte. Anyone but Charlotte!” Tears welled anew in her eyes.
Arnold stared dumbly at the hole in the ice, but Hester spotted tracks that led away from it. Two sets of tracks, importantly. “Look,” she said, pointing at them. “There have been no tracks by the other ice holes. And her clothes aren’t here.”
“Who could have taken her?” Arnold asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“I have my suspicions.” Would they believe her if she told them?
Arnold was quiet for a moment, and then asked, “A siren? I didn’t believe the myth, of course. I thought it was suicide. But now…”
“I fear it must be a siren,” Hester said.
“Sirens only kill men though, don’t they?” Betty asked, her face pale.
The noise of barking had them all looking up, and Marjorie and Sooty raced towards them over the ice, tails high, tongues lolling.
“Honestly, I cannot even look at them,” Arnold said with a grimace.
“They could help track Charlotte. Surely Marjorie will,” Hester said, bending down to hold Marjorie by the cheeks. “Come now, girl. Where is Charlotte?” Marjorie sat down, tail wagging. Then lay down, rolling in the snow.
Hester huffed and stood. “No help there then.”
“Sooty!” Septimus’s voice carried across the ice. Hester turned to find him skiing towards them, Valerie and Mei in tow. They arrived, and Septimus raked a hand through his hair when he saw the hole in the ice and the discarded skis.
“Shit.” He hung his head. “This is all Sooty’s fault.”
“Technically it’s Satan’s fault. But look. No pile of clothes, and tracks leading in that direction.”
“You have guns?”
Hester patted the pistol that hung from her belt. “Of course.”
He nodded, tapping his own. “Let’s go.”
Odette had led Charlotte across the ice and into a tunnel cut into the snow. A tunnel that led steadily down until it opened out into glittering blue ice caves. It was silent under the ice, and no other souls stirred as they navigated the tunnels.
Odette brushed her lips against Charlotte’s ear. “How do you like my palace, love?”
Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to answer in anything more than a whimper. The siren’s voice affected her deeply, like Odette were the moon and Charlotte the tide, wanting to draw closer. All of her senses were heightened, every touch, every place where her body met Odette’s flooded with heat.
She must try to be brave. What would Hester do in such a situation?
Hester, her captain. For she did think of Hester as her captain, like she belonged to her in some way, like Hester had captured her heart and Charlotte was only too happy to let her keep it.
Hester could get out of any scrape with a wink and a flash of that gold tooth of hers.
And it was Hester’s spirit she needed to channel now. What would Hester do…
She straightened her back as they walked into a hall, an enormous ice-carved throne at the far end. On the floor beside it were two skeletons.
Skeletons.
Charlotte cried out and sank to the floor, shaking all over.
James and Victor.
Oh, God. To Hell with being brave. She was going to die. She was going to die, and all she could think of now was Arnold.
Of all the crew, he was the firmest friend she had made. The thought of never seeing his silly tasselled hat again, or the way he raked his hair back and his shirt would ride up a little. He was such a wonderful friend.
“Whatever is the matter, my love?” Odette said, crouching down beside her and holding her by the shoulders.
“You’re going to eat me,” Charlotte sobbed. “Like you ate James and Victor.”
“Oh, Charlotte. Is that what you think? That I’m going to eat you?” She tucked a finger under Charlotte’s chin, lifting her head.
Oh, that black eye. So beautiful, and so horrifying.
Odette sighed. “My dear, no. I wouldn’t eat you. You are merely bait.”
Charlotte swallowed, unsure whether to feel relieved at this news. “Bait? For what?”
Odette smiled, showing all of her teeth. “For your captain. Hester Orn.”