Siren Misfit: The Misfits #2 by Eve Langlais

Author:Eve Langlais
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eve Langlais

Chapter 9

No matter how much I argued, Conan just didn’t listen. He insisted on accompanying me to see the sirens. Despite all my complaints, I was kind of glad for it.

While I’d never admit it aloud, the idea of visiting those women on my own freaked me out. Everything I’d learned about the sirens, which was sparse, had only served to build them into something bigger and more dangerous than they probably were.

I only had legends to go on, and mixed ones at that. So many fairy tales mixed up sirens and mermaids, making them out to be one creature when, in reality, they were quite different.

For one, sirens lived exclusively on land. Islands being their preference. In days long past, they used to populate several, but as humanity spread, the sirens’ hunting grounds shrank. As creatures of Earth who didn’t like to leave their isles and trust their fates to the rolling seas, they chose to stroll the beaches, singing to the winds around their isles, luring sailors to their doom, their melodies haunting and irresistible. The shipwrecks brought them the goods they needed and the bodies to do their bidding.

But being a siren only explained half my heritage. The other half was the complete opposite, given mermaids couldn’t sing sweet songs. They didn’t talk at all, and it wasn’t a wicked witch who took their voice, biology did. Don’t let the humanish facial features fool you. Mermaids had more in common with fish than humans. Ever try and have a conversation with a fish? Me neither.

The closest I could manage to converse was via the conch shells. The person on the other end communicating in practically a whisper, a gurgle of syllables that was hard to follow at times.

Was it any wonder I preferred trying my luck with the sirens first? At least with them, I shared a common tongue. And let’s be honest, despite all my curiosity, the ocean still terrified me. Bad enough that I’d have to fly over one.

As far as I could discover, there remained only one isle with sirens. In the Bermuda Triangle of all places. Given they enjoyed their privacy, forget catching a regular flight to reach it. Nope, getting there required a special charter plane, the pilot a bushy-haired man in his fifties. He didn’t speak much, greeting us on the tarmac with a grunt.

Yes, us. Because Conan—my self-appointed guardian barbarian—opted to join me. And by opted, I meant he followed me and refused to leave me alone.

Claire asked to come, too, but one peek at her twitching nose, and I knew she’d be a nervous mess. Hell, my own guts churned with trepidation. The sirens wanted to see me. Why?

Would they finally answer my questions? Could they explain how my human mother had a mixed-up baby? Would they know who my father was?

I used those questions to distract me from the fact that we’d soon be flying over water. A great big fucking ocean of it.

Sob.

The private plane Conan chartered proved comfy inside—and expensive I’d bet.

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