Chapter Eight

I was expelled from the void my body had flung me into. It was a state similar to human sleep only without the restful feeling upon waking. I was neither conscious nor unconscious like in our "dream" state, but merely nonexistent. The darkness rejected me and I assessed that this was not a state of death, merely one of constant pain. Overall, I was alive. At the moment, I wasn't sure if I felt that this was a good thing.

There were three humans before me. Two adults and one small dark-haired child. A man and a woman, I assume they are the child's respective parents. The giveaway is the way the child is sleepily clinging to the woman's skirts. Both are decently youthful in appearance and both exude a menacing air of luxury, that might just be coming from the woman, though. Racking my memory for clues that might help me identify my location, I remember the intricate details on the railing and other woodwork on the ship that almost proved to be Melody's demise. This ship just may be my own grave if it is the same one as before. I take in as much of the world around me without drawing too much attention to myself as I can; I'm afraid whatever is binding me will make a noise if I move and so I am limited to what is visible before me.

The humans block a majority of my view on the right side, but I am able to see a very minimal section of wooden paneling; the colour and curvature on the engraving matches the same style present in my memory. It's expensive and ornate, and I swallow a feeling of satisfaction because I ruined some of it when I leaped over the railing tearing out chunks in haste to save my comrades. I hope that they are unable to track down the artist so that they can't get it repaired, and that no other human is able to mimic such grand work. High hopes yes, but it would be worth it. I can feel a flat surface below me as if I were laying atop a bed or a table. I would look, but I don't want to risk making a sound. Lifting my gaze upwards shows that my hands are bound above me. A cuff around each wrist, while the chain linking them together is either stuck on a peg or wrapped around a pole-like structure; either way this observation explains the uncomfortable position requiring my arms to be raised towards the wall behind my head.

Resonance is slowly returning to my body as if an invisible hand was painstakingly turning the volume on the world before me. I never really paid attention earlier to the fact that the two adults' mouths were moving but I heard none of what was coming out. This hadn't fazed me, and I immediately was filled with a delayed anxiety. Is it possible for my kind to go deaf? There had been no damage done to my ears, at least, I couldn't recall any. Seconds later it didn't matter for I was fine, my senses were returning to me including the ability to hear and from what I could tell I wasn't seriously injured.

The beginnings of a crude escape plan began to formulate in my mind, but my morality quickly shoots them down. It was obvious that these two humans were married, and not only that, they had a child together. I refused to hurt any of them, and while I tried to justify only temporarily charming them, without feeding, I couldn't. This wasn't like when we healed that bachelor and helped him find a way home to his fiance; this would only benefit me. My code was telling me that I would have to die before I could use my powers on them. Is this how I shall be done in? How foolish. Why couldn't I be like any of the others? Unafraid to use my abilities to get what I want in any situation; I wouldn't even have to kill them, just hold them in place long enough to escape.

An accidentally audible sigh snakes its way out from my windpipe, and my hands twitch causing the chains binding them to clink. I have just given myself away. One folly after another. All three humans turn to stare at me, the adults and their bickering has now halted. The little one rubs at one of his eyes with one hand and tugs on his mother's clothes with the other. "Mommy… who is she?"

"She is nothing, min elskling." Her voice is icy and on point, reflecting the natural accent creeping through. I would suspect her to have origins in the very cold northern countries. Distinctly Scandinavian yet not so distinct that I could identify the exact country. She is dressed regally in flowing colours that compliment her every curve and contour. She could easily pass for royalty for she is certainly beautiful enough, but instead of ruling over the north, she is out here claiming a domain in the warm south. Her hair falls like pale gold, straight and precise framing a face that is both naturally and artificially gorgeous. Even with her young age, there are signs present that show she is not above a little cosmetic work to maintain a younger appearance.

The most striking thing about her—and this woman is already very striking—is the fact that she had a faux hand. Extending from her right wrist is a hand made of solid gold, burnished to reflect every ray of light possible. The nails were made of the deepest, reddest rubies I've ever seen and they sparkled with her every movement. What was the history behind this pseudo-limb? What caused her to lose the real one? I would probably never know, I had already closed myself off from the only option that would allow mental access and without that, her memories and thoughts were forever off-limits. I tore my eyes away from the intriguing thing and made eye contact with her instead. She stared back, eyes hardened with apparent disgust. I broke first and turned to take in the man.

His fascination was obvious too, but it was not so much an interest stemming from lust, but rather one born from a more scientific approach. It was obvious I was of another species, and the infinite differences between us enthralled him. I swept my eyes along his body noting the subtle variances between him and his wife. Unlike her, he wore no extra rings save for a simple gold wedding band upon his left-hand ring finger and his hair was a long glossy black without any signs of age. Upon his face was a neatly cropped beard and mustache; I could detect movement beneath those shiny tresses. His eyes seemed to change colour every time I would drift back up to look into them; green to blue to purple to brown to black and back again. Like his wife, he too was dressed amazingly and within one hand was a cane with a jeweled snake curling its body around the length of the cane only to peep its head out from one of the eye sockets of the skull serving as the cane's topper. I would suspect that their ages were mid to late twenties at least, but most importantly, that they were pirates.

The child had his father's black hair, eyes, and a fair portion of his facial structure with a smattering of the mother's austerity thrown in for good measure. His eyes kept shutting on him, even as he tried so desperately to stay awake. It was obvious he wanted to be involved in whatever affair his grownup parents were handling but his little body was too tired to keep up. If I had to guess he would be about three years old, maybe just under that age but certainly not older.

Before I gave my awakened status away I understood that the two adults were arguing over what it was they were going to do with me. Their conversation didn't suggest that I would die or be sold off, leaning more towards them keeping me prisoner. Every object or possession must have its use and they were trying to determine mine.

It was obvious that the woman was fearful of my power and probably suspected that at the first chance I would manipulate her family out from under her. If I were any other member of my chorus or our previous group, there is a solid chance I would have if it meant retaking my freedom. Unfortunately, I am me, and I refuse to do anything that may jeopardize their obviously loving relationship. I couldn't pry into their minds, but their body language and the trace feelings I could detect were more than enough to prove themselves. Plus, there was the child.

Becoming her handmaiden was out of the question, her brimming jealousy would not permit me to serve her and that was fine with me. I doubt I could be of any use to the man and—wait a minute. I should not be seriously considering what sort of "job" I may perform for them! They have stolen me from my friends and from my home, I will rebuff any and all notions of coaxing myself voluntarily into servitude. Clearly their restrctive net had some sort of side effects for me to be thinking this way. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't even consider such propositions, so why was I now?

Choosing to not terminate my life would be their downfall once I made my escape. With the whole issue settled—thanks to a good mental slap followed by an equally rough mental shaking—I decided to ignore my captors and focus on wriggling out of these bonds. They had swapped the rope for metal chains, probably after witnessing the work my talons did on their crew and Melody's bindings. I twisted my face to stare at my hands and start to rotate them and test at what angles could I claw at the metal. If I could ascertain a weak point I could have these chains broken in no time. Ordinarily I would just break them off using my strength alone, but I could feel a lingering weakness in my limbs from the damnable net of before.

The silence is brief. I can feel their stares boring into my body; the sensation is akin to the way I dug my talons into their men's skin, or the way Allegro would sink her teeth into a particularly prime human heart. I'm wounded. That much is visible, and I'm not human. Of that they are already aware. Still, it doesn't mean I am any less a novelty to them.

Twice now I have called those humans that dared to harm us their "crew," and I've already made the assumption that they are pirates. But how do I know this? Why I have I made such a judgement call? Yes their ship is ornate, but how I do I know its their property? Why does luxury equal piracy in my eyes? They could be extremely wealthy merchants or lucrative business-people. They might not even be the owners, they could be guests to the true owner. And yet still I cannot shake the feeling that these people are pirates, this ship belongs to them, and that they have no intention of killing me or releasing me.

Knowing that their silence would be short-lived before they start talking about me once more, I completely focus on trying to stress the chains binding my hands so that I may break them and progress to the next part of my escape plan. Which is to escape. By-almost—any means necessary. I have practically fooled myself into thinking that I might have actually made progress when a male voice begins to laugh, I'm presuming at me and my efforts.

The sound is full and throaty, but lacks any maliciousness; so he's merely laughing at my actions but not necessarily at me. It takes a lot of effort to avoid looking at him and just continue my work despite knowing that his facial expressions and body language would help me decipher precisely why he's laughing at me. I don't have to wait long for him to do so, because once the chortles die down he tells me. That's the nice thing about humans, well nice isn't the appropriate word but, my patience is usually greater than theirs, and if there is something I want that I must wait for then chances are I have no trouble waiting to get it. Granted, I'm usually waiting for my prey to become food once a plan is set in motion…

The man plows on with talking despite the obvious fact that I am not going to avert my gaze from the task at hand. "It's good to see that you are up and about, even if your senses are clearly deluded. You are injured, even I can tell given how your kind has behaved before." His voice shifts from the obvious teasing to a more serious tone even though he tries to hold onto that playfulness rather unsuccessfully. "Now, what I'm failing to understand is why you haven't tried to charm us yet, or whatever it is your species does, in order to aid your escape?"

I ignore him, save for a slight eye roll that may or may not have been visible depending on if they were paying any attention to my eyes. Minutes pass and I continue to attempt to clink, rub, grind, and pull my way to freedom. I don't think I'm getting anywhere, but I'm not going to let them know that. After all, I'm foreign to them. They go back to discussing my fate, and I catch the names of various positions aboard their ship. I find it a bit odd that they plan on keeping me, rather than selling me to a high bidder, that's what I would expect any pirate to do. Perhaps they're into purveying and hoarding instead of just accumulating riches in the form of currency? At any rate, I'm sure they have their reasons for my capture.

When the man offers up that his wife could utilize me as a handmaiden, she immediately throws a tantrum, even going as far as to step closer to me as she gestures at me. "There is no way, nor is there any reason, that I will ever have that, that… thing, as my handmaiden. We will find a use for her, I refuse to have some freeloader aboard our ship." Her shriekings are clouded by her accent, but do nothing to take the edge off of it. The thought of being servant to such a piece of work uncontrollably makes him hiss, and when her hand nears my form I growl menancingly at her. I can't let them think that I pose no danger to them. They must remember the damage I caused their crew however long ago that was. But how long have I been "asleep" for?

I don't have any time to ponder internally for an answer because I am rudely slapped on the right cheek by the woman. I'm assuming she didn't like the fact that I threatened her. Well, I don't like having someone else's hands put on me when I don't want them to be. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do in retaliation except struggle against my bindings and snarl menacingly.

The blonde woman steps back to be alongside her husband once more, lest she gets the urge to strike me again. She looks irritated, meanwhile the man looks more amused than anything save for the undecipherable look resting in his eyes. He has yet to figure out my purpose. It's foolish, but I'm hoping that they'll realize since I don't have one that they might as well just let me go. I'm sure looking like a threat is the way to get what I want, that, or determination to break out will take care of things for me.

"Well, if we can't find anything for her to do my dear, perhaps we should just let her go?" the man's face clearly says he's joking but I'm letting my hopes get the best of me due to how badly I want him to be serious.

His wife looks like she was just told some very dreadful news. Her mouth cannot shake its frown as she dismisses her husband's suggestion. "After all the work it took to capture one of them? You want to just let her go? What a fine thing we shall tell the crew. Oh, our sincerest apologies about your injuries, I'm afraid they were for naught as we decided to let the creature go. Especially after the first one got away too. I'm surprised, nay, shocked that you even dare to-"

Her tirade is cut off when she notices that her small child has crept closer to me. Her motherly instincts must have demanded that she scoop him up out of my potential reach, but curiousity overtook not only her but her husband too as they watched him move towards me. I observe that the man has his hand on her elbow, but if that is all the restraint it takes to keep her from overreacting, then maybe they're putting a little too much faith in these handcuffs.

I go from studying the parents to staring at their son. What does he want of me? He's too young to probably even tell that I'm not human. Then again, children are innately very perceptive, so it's possible that he is already aware of how my existence differs from his.

He stretches one miniscule hand before him; when he is close enough he places it upon my cheek. His hand stays there, and he just absentmindedly looks at me now and again before seeming to stare off into space. What is he trying to accomplish? Whatever his purpose, it does not matter because I cannot do anything about it due to how bound I am to my code of ethics. All of these people in this room are able to prance about because my morals do not allow me to interfere with their emotions which by extension, means that their freedom is also untouchable. Funny how mine can be stripped away whenever they please though. I won't deny that the boy is cute for a human child. Eventually, the boy tires of petting me and turns to his parents to say, "I like her."

He trots back to his mother and clutches at her clothes, his head nodding as he begins to fall asleep where he stands. The man claps softly, so as to not disturb his sleeping son. He scoops him up gently, and half-whispers to his wife that, "The matter is settled. She shall be Moonshine's caretaker and personal servant. This saves us the trouble of having to go through the whole hiring process and those pesky background checks that take up so much time when ashore." He turns to leave, I'm assuming to carry their son—apparently called Moonshine—to his bed.

The woman begins to sputter and protest my assignment. Better her than me, at least she might be listened to. "You aren't seriously going to leave our son, our heir, in the hands of this thing do you?"

He stops halfway out of the room and asks her with his back still turned, "Would you rather she be your handmaiden?" His wife huffs and she leaves with her husband. She stops to look at me before completely disappearing to wherever, as if daring me to try and leave. I'm quite incapable of going anywhere… for now.

xXx

Time passes and I continue the struggle to free myself. I'm starting to really doubt my ability to break free given how weak that net left me. What was it made of? Who told them it could capture Sirens? These questions do nothing but hinder me, as I have no way of answering them as well as no way to reach other Sirens to warn them of the dangers that humans have now become. I can only hope my chorus will use my tale of captivity—and I pray it shall be a short one—to strengthen their warnings. Perhaps we should caution the other sentient creatures of the deep as well? Who knows what the humans might be planning…

Fear of harm brought to others slows any progress I could be making, but it doesn't matter because my futile clanking of these chains is interrupted by the return of my kidnappers. I give up on breaking my chains and look at them to figure out what they want. I'm surprised they've come back at all, it must be the middle of the night or early morning by now. It is hard to tell in a room without any windows.

The woman enters first, closely followed by her husband. I can sense that there are at least two other humans waiting just outside the doorway. I'm guessing my abductors are going to ask me questions before they have their people take me away to somewhere. I am going to pointlessly hope that the somewhere is overboard, but I doubt it. They stand side-by-side once they both are in the room; their positions exhibit a distinct lack of effort brought on my years of repeating this same formation in a variety of instances.

"We have some questions for you, and we intend to get answers." The man starts. In response I blink. I have nothing to say to them, for people who seem used to getting what they want, they're going to have to learn what it's like to be disappointed. "To start, what exactly are you?"

I blink again. My species is none of their concern. If they were so interested in my genetic makeup, maybe they should just kill and dissect me instead. I rattle the chains a little and he coughs sensing that I'm not going to say anything. His wife sighs angrily and crosses her arms, as if expecting her husband to either change his question or change his tune. Since he does not seem like a man that is quick to anger, unlike his wife, he decides to press his luck by trying another question. This must have been the one he really wanted to ask because he walks forward and even kneels so that he is right next to me before speaking again.

"I know that you're a being of legend, a Siren to be specific. I know that your kind are dangerous and that given the choice you would not only escape, but also return with your pack to wreak havoc and destruction upon my ship, my crew, and my family. This is why we cannot let you escape alive. That being said, keeping you onboard with us is also a threat to everyone here. Since we have no intentions of letting you go, I must ask… When my son approached you, why did you not use your powers on him? When your pack boarded our ship you did not hesitate to attack then, yet when we three were alone in a room together, you did nothing but ignore us. Why is that?"

I sigh. They are somewhat entitled to know why I have and have not done certain things. Refusing to entice the husband to free me so that I may feed on all of them before making my escape is something I don't really have a problem with answering.

"Unlike others of my kind, those who are more inclined to attack freely than I choose to, I abide by a moral code of ethics so to speak. I don't know why, I just do. My code does not allow me to kill, feed on, or charm persons that I know are in love with someone, married, are parents, or are a child themself. Granted, I never expected to be in this sort of predicament where I wish so furiously that I would allow myself to entice you, if only slightly so that I may escape, but alas I will not."

"Right," the woman has follows her husband and places her hands on his shoulders. The move seems almost possessive. Her words are cold due to disbelief and mistrust. "as if we are going to believe whatever this beast says." Her gold hand glitters in the moonlight, and I am briefly entranced by its luster.

"You have no choice but to believe me." I say firmly. I'm fairly certain that I know myself better than some wealthy human.

"And why is that?" he follows up, clearly paying close attention to my words. After all, his family's lives are at stake. He's trying to find out if I can be trusted.

The answer to that is yes and no. I can be trusted not to hurt this family unit. I cannot be trusted to not escape. "I could never live with myself knowing that I had broken one of the tenets that sets me apart from the members of my that kind solely for pleasure." We can feed without killing and we can feed without hurting our victims.

"I see." He nods and stands shaking off his wife's protective hands as he does so. Seemingly satisfied he shouts for his crewmembers lingering just outside the doorway. Two large men with bulky muscles enter the doorway and immediately look me over. An all too familiar expression enters their eyes, one that ordinarily meant I could start taking my pick of the potential prey. However, given these circumstances it is I who is now looked on as prey, and there is nothing I can do about it given my bindings.

"Bring her to the deck and place her in the prepared space. Change her handcuffs, and place one of the special nets over the area as well, be sure to have ear plugs in. And wrap a chain around her while you are at it." the woman commands sharply, pleased as the crew members begin to carry me off. I can feel the terror radiating off of me in quick waves.

"Oh and gents, if anyone touches her, I will let her consume you. And when she's done, I'll kill you myself." The man taps the end of his cane to his foot upon receiving fearful nods from his people.

I look over my shoulder towards him in gratitude as they carry me away, his eyes twinkling a light purple, and that is the last I see of him.

I am placed in a small corner of the ship by what is most likely the Captain's office. Or perhaps it's the galley, I do not know for certain. I've never been on ships long enough to become all that familiar with their layouts. When I was brought to the deck I was met with whistles and catcalls of all kinds by those still awake at this hour. Their crowing was brought to a swift end when the two men relayed the orders given to them by who I am assuming are the Captain and their Deputy. Once their job of tying me up more securely than before is done, the men go off and resume whatever their given duties are at this time.

I am left alone. I am too weak to try to long-distance charm anyone, not to mention they will most likely know better than to approach me without ear plugs in. I lack the strength to try and break all these barriers now. I am tired. I am hungry. And I have never been out of the ocean for this long. A painful, creeping sensation has settled atop my skin, worse than anything I have ever felt before. I can only hope that as time moves forward, so too will their hearts be moved so that I may be set free. That being said, I'm more inclined to believe that I am going to have claim freedom on my own; they are not just going to give it back to me.

The minutes come and go as they turn into hours. The slight trance I had slipped into in order to escape the wretched pain multiplying across my skin is broken by the sound of hollow mourning coming from the waters below. My chorus has found me. Have they been stalking the ship this whole time? Why do they not come aboard for me?

A quick look across the entirety of the deck reveals why I have been forsaken by my own. The crew lingering about are clearly on patrol for an incident such as this. They've been waiting for either retaliation or rescue, depending on the fate that their Captain has now determined. All of them move to the sides of the deck, hastily shoving plugs in their ear canals to block the notes vital to enticing humans. They anxiously scan the dark below, hoping to spot more of the things that they caught earlier.

I've no doubts that my people will refuse to surface. Instead, only bubbles carrying their voices of sorrow will make their way to the open air. "Tam, za gorizontom dorog/ V mire beskrainih morei." (There, beyond the horizon of roads/ In a world of endless seas). Despite the pain eating away at me I join in, if only to convey that I am still alive for now.

"Gde-to est' ostrovok/ On manit svoei krasotoi/ Chto zovetsya mechtoi." (Somewhere there is an island/ It attracts with its beauty/ Attracts only one). The crewmen closer to me turn at the sound of my voice reaching them through their protection. There is no seduction in my voice, no hint of charms or enticement, just a sad plea for the freedom that may never come and the accompanying voices are just mourning someone who might as well be dead.

"I goryachee serdce v poryve strastei/ Rasprostilsya s toboi i uehal za nei." (What is called a dream/ And the warm heart of passion/ Say goodbye to you, and leave her behind). What is normally an upbeat song is transformed by our grief, slowed and amplified to suit our growing distress. As they sing the words of goodbye their sounds become faint. Less and less are their musical bubbles making their way to the surface. They have accepted that I must be left behind. The awful task of finishing out what could be our final song together is my burden, I will conclude this piece of despondency alone.

"Za nei uehal, i pust'/ Prosti i vsyo zabud'." (After it left it let her/ Forgive and forget everything). The song is oddly fitting, as they always are. Thinking of the ironic implications only reminds me of Harmony and Melody, the two members of my choir who always bothered to consider such things. Melody… the one whose place I took as prisoner… I hold no ill will against her, in fact I'm glad to have saved her. I'm sure being separated from Harmony would have caused her pain greater than what I am currently experiencing. I can only hope that she and the others will make the best of their situation. At least I no longer have to be their leader.

In any other circumstance my grim joke would have been funny. However at this time, the thought only brings sadness and precious saltwater tears to my eyes. I wouldn't mind being their leader if it meant being reunited with my beloved ocean. As tears fall from my eyes, I slip into an almost trance. This one sustains my consciousness if only to sing strangled notes representing my loss. My thoughts turn to the watery home flowing only a few layers of wood beneath me; I imagine this is what dreams are like, empty wishes that shall not come true. Agonized cries fill the air around me. No notes or real chords. Just cries, screams, and lamentations.

And so ends my first night of captivity. May my spirits rise with the morning sun, lest they be crushed forevermore.


Origa – Wasure na kusa / Wasurenagusa (Forget-me-not)

Also known as Forget-me-not, here are alternative lyrics to the ones used:

There, beyond the horizon of roads,

In a world of endless seas

Somewhere there is a ostovok

It attracts with its beauty

Attracts only one

What is called a dream

And a warm heart in a fit of passion

Goodbye to you, and left her

Behind her left and let -

Forgive and forget all

You just do not be jealous of his

He left you a goodbye kiss

Know that time will heal grief

Well, come back - come out of his Met

And warm heart will hear the love

He'll forget about it and will follow you

What's left, then let

Forgive and forget all


A/N: The ones used in this chapter were a result of Google doing a direct translation, followed by me adjusting them so that they made more sense. This song has been added to the Serenade of a Slave public playlist on Youtube: playlist?list=PLaUSgEwjCHUBGD80FE5ed5DqdLTiMvCtp