Page 49

It’s hard to describe the tug of the song. There aren’t recognizable words falling from my tongue, but frequencies and sounds speaking to something universal beyond the limitations of a singular language. I sing of transformation: the truth of the butterfly and the protandrous cycle of the ribbon eel. I sing of abandonment: the drought that steals the water from the banks of a river, leaving nothing but brittle, impermeable earth behind.

I sing of love, and surrender, and I imagine Javier’s face in my mind.

I hear his voice, reminding me I am enough. It’s so clear, so loud, at first I assume I’ve imagined his face moving toward me under the water.

But no. I’m not imagining this.

Javier is here. His hair billows around him as he swims frantically toward me, eyes wide and searching like I’m the oxygen he needs to breathe.

No. No.

Everything hits me all at once.

My song catches, tangles and dies in my throat. If he is here, under the water, then he is under my spell. No, no, no. He heard me sing, and now…

I shove it aside, refusing to indulge in mourning the end of my time on this earth. I won’t waste time with rage or regret.

I will die, and I will die as myself. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really. To be myself. To live, and then to die as Aleks.

But right now, the man I love is running out of breath. Time seems to slow down as I reach for him, and through the terror my song bursts out—Save him. Save the man who sees you, who treasures you. Save him before you die.

I won’t survive this. I know that. But, as I seal my mouth over Javier’s cold lips and exhale the full capacity of my lungs into him, as his soft body relaxes into my hold, a flicker of hope cuts through me. He has to live, I think as I continue to breathe for him, cradling his body to my chest as I swim us up to the surface.

Clumsily, I shove Javier up onto the edge of the pool. I think belatedly about the discomfort of the rounded stones against his back, but I’m too busy watching him from where I hover above him.

The fabric of his shirt clings to his body. My eyes dart between the swell of his chest and his parted mouth. I lower my mouth to his, breathing, breathing, then press the heels of my palms into his chest, again, and again, and again. Waiting, waiting—breathe Daddy, please, Daddy. His eyes are closed, lashes dark against his wet cheek, and I’m about to panic when I hear it. The quiet hiss of an inhale. The rise of his chest.

One breath, then two.

I’m biting back a sob when Javier’s eyes blink open and he pushes himself up, a look of confusion marring his face. He’s here, he’s alive, and fuck, is this really it for me?

My head drops, finding the dip in the middle of his chest. The sadness hits and my heart breaks as I brace myself for whatever form my death will take. Will the air be squeezed from my lungs? Will my heartbeat slow gradually, only to stop fully when I’ve drifted into sleep?

Or am I seconds away from having my spirit snuffed out of existence?

I don’t know what death is going to feel like, but I know it won’t be gentle. It won’t be painless. Not for a siren.

I want to be as close to Javier as possible. Now that I know he’s alive, it’s all I can do to keep it together while I wait for my own life to end. I nuzzle into his chest as a whine starts in the back of my throat.

“Sireno,” I hear Javier whisper, his voice hoarse and raw. “Look at me.”

The tears spill over, and no, I can’t. I shake my head. But then there’s a firm grip on my chin, and I follow when he tilts my head up to look at him.

Javier takes me in, gaze sweeping across my face. I feel the brush of his touch against my cheek, and when he presses his thumb against my lips I open obediently, tasting the salt of my tears as I suck him in.

I want to sink into this moment, but there’s a looming reality not even Javier’s steady presence can help me ignore.

“I’m not ready to die,” I whisper around his thumb.

Confusion, then concern cross his face, and then something I must be imagining as affection curves his mouth into a soft smile. I let out a surprised gasp when Javier rolls us over—my back resting on the stones in the shallows at the edge of the pool. Now Javier hovers above me, his face shadowed in the growing darkness.

When Javier kisses me I arch up into him. His lips are warm now, his tongue hot as it caresses mine. Again, I want to lose myself in him, but—

“Wait,” I gasp, my eyes burning with another wave of tears. “If this is it, then—”

“This is not it, sweet boy,” Javier murmurs, kissing my cheeks and eyebrows, my temple and my forehead. “You are not going to die today.”

That breaks the spell. With my hands against his chest I try to push him off of me. “You heard me sing! You aren’t a human who knows nothing of sirens! You heard me, and now I’m going to die! This isn’t some fairy tale where the siren is saved from his fate by a—”