A/N: Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one :D

Chapter XIII

The word livid did not even begin to describe the emotion I was feeling. What had that conversation even meant? Did he know what I was? If he did know, then why couldn't he have been direct and told me outright? He wouldn't even stoop so low as to threaten me properly.

And yet something about him was fascinating. Utterly fascinating.

It made absolutely no sense that someone in his position – a pirate – should be so intelligent – so conniving. And yet he was.

And why was he not cruel? On any other ship, my behavior would have earned at least a lashing under even the best of circumstances; but Sparrow seemed to enjoy my insolence. He was not authoritative. He was neither frightening nor intimidating. And yet he still had the respect of his crew, and people were inclined to listen to him. It was illogical. It was irrational.

I had angered him, though – or I thought I had. The way in which he sulked out of the room implied such. This suggested that he was indeed human at the very least, but that's about it. Though, I probably would have been more comforted if he'd exploded into some sort of enraged rant; then I would have known for sure that he was in fact susceptible to the same emotions as the rest of his species.

And for some bizarre and accursed reason, I felt bad about the whole situation. After everything – after he'd treated me like some sort of coinage – I still couldn't muster the deep, bone-chilling hatred that I wanted convey. He was horrid and annoying and untrustworthy and so, so clever. What was wrong with me?

I was abruptly ripped from my musings, however, when I heard a deafening screech on deck.

I quickly rushed outside to see what was happening, to find that the crew was staring into the sky in bewilderment.

"What was that?" Tom asked with thinly veiled fear, gripping his cutlass tightly.

There was another screech, which faintly resembled the cry of a bird multiplied tenfold. This sound was louder than its predecessor, and caused all of my crewmates to clamp their hands over their ears and double over in pain. Some of the men dropped to their knees at the unbearable racket, and even Sparrow wasn't immune to screwing his eyes shut and covering his unexposed ears. Dog-Emery whined pitifully and buried his face in his large paws.

For some reason, I was resistant to the full affect of the noise. To be sure, it was unpleasant and grating; but I wasn't bothered to the point of incapacitation.

However, I was still terrified of whatever was making the ear-splitting racket and was quite positive that the sound did not bode well for our safety. Gibbs' prediction seemed to be manifesting itself sooner than I'd anticipated.

"What's going on?" I screamed above the din; my ears were ringing and I could hardly hear myself think.

Cotton apparently was able to read my lips, and pointed to the twilight sky. At first, I saw nothing; but then there was a dark and shadowy flash against the dim orangey rays of sunlight. Something was hovering around the ship.

All of a sudden, a woman came into view and landed on the yardarm. She was perched, like a hawk, and gazed down at us with her head cocked to the side. She seemed quite ordinary, at first glance; that is, apart from the fact that the underside of her arms – from wrist to armpit – were completely covered in brown feathers. Soon, two similar creatures landed on either side of their companion and stared at us intently.

For the first time since the start of my unfortunate voyage, I wasn't completely and utterly clueless. I knew these creatures. Legends of them had reached even the sheltered cove of Whitecap Bay.

They were sirens.

Sirens were rare. Rarer than mermaids, and far more dangerous. When they were calm, their voices were beautiful and seductive and could lure even the strongest of sailors into their evil clutches. But when they were angry – that's when things became especially perilous. When they were angry, their voices would change from melodious and soothing to discordant and petrifying. They could paralyze men with a mere shriek, rendering them tragically helpless; and easy to consume.

Cecily must have sent these heinous monstrosities to do her bidding.

They screeched in unison once more, and this time I couldn't help but let out a short yelp of pain. This, much to everyone's misfortune, caused all the lanterns to break and fire to erupt on deck. I screamed again at the sight of the horrifying flames, which seemed to further perturb the sirens; they began slashing at the sails with their talon-like fingers and splintering the mainmast. One swooped down and easily snatched up poor Marty, who slashed and writhed hopelessly against the siren's wicked clutches. Fortunately, he was able to nick its ankle with his blade. Unfortunately, however, the monster ended up dropping him into the waves below.

Jack, now the only one of the men still conscious (but just barely), was frantically searching the deck for something. What exactly that was, however, I had no idea. In his mad whirlwind of motion, he had enough sense to throw a line to Marty; the whole thing was so frenzied and fluid, that I almost missed it.

He clearly wasn't having any success at all in his exploratory endeavor, and I feared we were all doomed.

"Cassie!" he saw (and heard, but only just) him bellow.

I tried desperately to focus on him as my vision became blurred and my mind hazy. He made an up-down motion with one of his hands, as if he were strumming an instrument.

That's when it struck me – he had been searching for Cotton's guitar. This realization came as a burst of clarity and brought me back to full consciousness.

Music. That was the only thing that could appease the sirens. In all the commotion, I'd forgotten this very simple (and very essential) fact.

So, I did what I had to. Jack was the only one awake, so the others wouldn't witness what was about to happen. Although, I didn't know if this was a good thing or not.

I took a deep breath, knowing that what I was about to do could lead to a whole slew of problems. My voice was not of this world, nor could I disguise it; Jack would surely be able to tell that something was off, and he might even be affected by its powers. But I didn't have any other choice; I opened my mouth, and sang:

"There lived a rich nobleman's daughter,

So comely and handsome and fair,

Her father possessed a great fortune,

Full thirty-five thousand a year.

She being his only daughter,

Caroline is her name we are told,

One day from her drawing-room window,

She espied there a young sailor bold."

The sirens soon stopped their destruction and froze in mid-air. Apparently they, too, could be entranced by the sound of my voice.

"Three times with her love she was shipwrecked," I continued,

"Though she always moved constant and true,

Her duty she done like a sailor,

Went aloft in her jacket so blue.

Her duty she done like a sailor,

Could hand reef and steer we are told.

At last they arrived in New England,

Caroline and her young sailor bold."[1]

By this point, I was victorious in placating the sirens and they appeared to be heading back from whence they came. I turned Jack, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. Our eyes remained locked for a matter of seconds, before he seemed to snap back to reality and began manically trying to put out the fire by stomping on it.

He had just witnessed something that made me completely vulnerable – that put me entirely at his mercy. Whether or not he recognized what he had seen was an enigma, but the fact remained: I'd saved not only myself, but also the entire crew by exposing myself. By exposing my true self. But Jack was the only one to see it.

I didn't know what to make of this reality, and I had absolutely no idea how he would respond.

Things really could go either way; he could use this information as leverage, or he could pretend that it never happened. From the way things were progressing (i.e. he had yet to say a word to me), it seemed as if he'd chosen the latter option. But perhaps this was just wishful thinking…

When the flames had been extinguished (without any help from me, thank you very much) and a bloodied Marty had been hauled back aboard, it became indisputably apparent that the Poseidon's Jewel was in desperate need of restoration. The deck was scorched, the sails were a mess, and the wood of the masts was precariously cracked; it had yet to be revealed just how we would even manage to make port. Luckily for us, islands in the Caribbean were quite close and the nearest one couldn't be more than a day's sail away.

As Sparrow carelessly wiped his brow with the back of his hand, Gibbs began to come-to.

"Ah, you've awoken," Jack said with a sincere smile.

"What? What're ye sayin'?" Gibbs boomed noisily in the Captain's face, digging around in his left ear with his index finger, "I can't 'ear nothin'!"

"Never mind," Jack muttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he restrained himself from rolling them.

"What 'appened to 'em?" the first mate demanded, his voice still unbearably loud, "Where'd those wretched sky-devils fly off to?"

The Captain pointed to me and rather comically mimed out the action of singing.

Gibbs understood, and said, "Aye, that'll do it – music be the sole way to fend off a harpy. G'job, lassie."

I smiled politely at the compliment, but didn't waste my breath in thanking him.

As the others started to regain consciousness, it was plain to see that they were all temporarily deaf as well; I turned to Jack and asked, "Can you hear?"

"Only just," he answered, his tone well above its normal volume. "That was a lovely song, by the way," he remarked cheekily, "Pity I didn't get to experience it in all its glory, though. Perhaps you'll sing for us another time."

"Perhaps," I grit out through clenched teeth. This was bad. This was very bad. But, at least everyone was all right; at least everyone was alive – and it was all thanks to me. Well, sort of. I hadn't come up with the idea that saved us, but I had executed it. For the first time, I felt as if I'd done something worthwhile. True enough, my actions were primarily self-defensive – but their consequences were of use to everyone, and in that way I'd been helpful. The realization was surprisingly satisfying.

"Captain," I said, attempting to retain some shred of maturity, "I think we'd best head towards the nearest port, no?"

"Aye, that'd be a sensible idea," he answered loudly, "This poor girl's in great need o' repairs."

"But the sails have been compromised," I pointed out.

"Our destination shan't be terribly far – she'll be able to pull through, I've faith in 'er."

"If you say so," I murmured inaudibly.

"Plus," he continued, "there should be a few spare sails somewhere below deck… Spritelies! One o' you go below and fetch 'em!"

Tom eagerly saluted and obeyed his command, though I was surprised that he was actually able to hear the other man.

"Men," Sparrow shouted once Tom had returned with an armful of sailcloth, "hop to it – make the this pathetic piece o' wood seaworthy, will ye? Time is of the essence! The mainsail's mangled beyond repair, but we'll be able to replace the jib and the foresail, which should hold us over for now, ey?" He then strode to the helm and stole a glance at his compass.

He must not have realized that I'd followed him, for he flinched slightly when I said, "We'll not speak of this, am I clear?"

"Crystal," he mumbled deprecatingly, peering from under the rim of his surprisingly long eyelashes, "Though I'm not sure just what precisely 'this' is a reference to."

"You know. I know you know."

"Well that really clarifies everything, doesn't it? Thank you kindly for that utterly useful insight, love."

"Don't call me that. And just remember what I know about you, savvy?"

I smirked haughtily after using his own term against him, and his mouth twitched faintly from beneath his mustache.

"You'd best get to work," was all he said in response.

[1] This song is called "Caroline and Her Young Sailor Bold," and it's (I'm assuming) the real sea shanty that they based the song in the movie on. The lyrics are very similar to "My Jolly Sailor Bold." I'm kind of surprised that they didn't just use this version, in fact...

A/N: Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

You'll notice that I had Gibbs refer to the creatures as harpies, while Cassie calls them sirens. You see, something really weird happened around the Middle Ages in regard to the mythology of sirens. In ancient times, they were indeed considered vicious bird-like creatures who could lure sailors to their deaths by singing (as described in the Odyssey). But at some point, they became basically synonymous with mermaids and only retained the musical aspect of the original sirens. Harpies were also featured in ancient myths as bird-like female creatures, but they were always more frightening in that they shrieked and generally sounded awful. I confess, I'm not exactly an expert on these two mythologies, but this is what I gathered from the research I've done. Feel free to correct any of this if you know something more!

Also, I kind of combined the two mythologies out of convenience in this chapter, but I wanted to portray that Cassie thinks of things (of the supernatural nature) in a more dated fashion, whereas Gibbs is a bit more up-to-date, if you will.

Sorry for rambling, but I just thought I'd throw this in there in case anyone noticed this/was curious! Please revieww :D