10

Mr Silvan took the rest of the week to recover. Ideally, he should have stayed two weeks in the clinic. However, he had been stubborn so the doctor agreed on assigning him crutches and recommending him for outpatient care. It was my turn to look after an unwell Mr Silvan. It was difficult to have him rest as he asked after his boat every two hours. The physician came three times a week to change his bandages and assured me that the cast on his leg would come off in about two weeks. In the evenings we took long walks to get him fully on his feet. First, with him utilising his crutches, then with him using them only half the time and finally, we progressed to him not needing them at all.

I did not open the tent to sell anything throughout this period and phoned Dylan to update him on what had been happening. He came over with his grandmother, the next day, and she cooked a host of meals that I would only need to warm up for Mr Silvan.

On weekends, Mr Silvan would insist on fishing from the lip of his boat with a rod, more out of custom than any other thing. By the three-week mark since his return from the clinic, things started getting back to normal. Mr Silvan resumed his early waking habits and even went on to the pier by himself. Ordinarily, I'd go straight to the tent, open it up and wait for him to arrive but since he was not yet at his best I decided to meet him at the docks.

"I am fine," he whined. "You did not need to come all the way here, Yara."

"I know. I know," I dismissed his sentiments and took the bucket of clams from his hands.

We walked to the tent from there; sales were a bit stymied, too many customers had gone to other places since the incident with Mr Silvan. I was thinking of going around to eateries and shacks to see who might buy from us. Mr Landon always bought crab from us. He hadn't ordered yet but I'd check his place anyway.

As I pondered on what to do, a black car rolled in just across the street from us. Carle stepped out of the car; his presence ruined the day for me. He opened his boot and got out a transparent storage box full of iced fish. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could say any words he greeted, "Hey, Silvan. You look better now!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Carle? Good afternoon. Come on. Come on." Mr Silvan looked at me. "Yara. Your friend, Carle, is here."

I faked a smile.

Mr Silvan went around from the tent to meet Carle. "You brought us fish?" Mr Silvan asked.

"This is actually from your house. Yara messaged me. She asked me to help bring it, something along the lines of it being from the last catch before you were attacked." He looked at me. "Right, Yara?"

I nodded. Such a liar!

"Oh yes, Yara. We forgot these at home?" Mr Silvan took the box from him.

I nodded again.

"Thank you, Carle," Mr Silvan said. "Are you here to see Yara?"

I interrupted before Carle should respond, "You know what, Mr Silvan? Let me show these to Mr Landon. They are well frozen; I think he'd appreciate them." I took the box from Mr Silvan. "Carle, you wouldn't mind accompanying me, would you?"

"That's fine by me." His forced smile had not the slightest bit of effect on me. "I'll drive you."

"We are walking!" I said a little too rudely. "You can close down the shop without me, Mr Silvan. I'll come straight home from Landon's."

"Okay. Be safe now both of you." He waved me a goodbye. "Come back while it's still bright outside."

"Take care, Silvan," Carle said as he followed behind me.

"What do you want?" I asked when we were out of earshot of Mr Silvan.

"I am sorry for how things have developed thus far."

"Gosh. Let's not do this. Just tell me what you want. It is such a simple question. What made you so desperate that you had to almost kill Mr Silvan to get to me?"

Carle released a deep breath and that snarky expression of his returned. "You already know."

"I am not coming with you."

"You don't have a choice."

"You won't drag me out of here."

"Yes. But how many are here in Ver Mon Lagho? Three thousand? Two? I will tear every one of them apart if that is what it takes to get to you."

"Let's say I finally decide to come with you, what would stop me from killing you in your sleep?"

"I'll worry about that when it is time."

"If you ever touch Mr Silvan again. I swear it, I will kill you."

"Does that mean you are going to come with me?"

I did not answer.

"We can't be going back and forth, Yara. You must give me an answer. Now."

I still didn't reply.

"One month then. I will give you one month. If at the end of a month, you haven't answered me, I'll take it as a no and start killing. The old man will be my first victim."

I spun sharply around and spat at his face. He didn't bother to wipe it off.

"Good bye, Yara. I'll see you after one month. You better start counting." He turned on his heels and marched away.

It was going to be my last stand—whatever I planned next. It was time to either win or lose; it was time to fight most of all. But there was no qualm about it now. Every plan included killing Carle. Sorry, but I did not want this union of sirens; if Carle was like this, then his mentor, Charles, would be two times worse. It haunted me more—the thought of what I had done to deserve exile. Because if all sirens sent here were the vilest, then what was I? I clearly didn't fit.

Mr Landon was generous with us. He did not need the additional box of fish at that moment but he took it nonetheless, albeit on credit. I inhaled the musk of the ocean on my way back home. It could happen that I wouldn't be so privileged to do that much longer.

That night I decided to string up letters. One for Mr Silvan, and the other for Dylan. Also, I was going to pay a visit to the sheriff, and involve the cops. I started Dylan's letter first for I knew it would be the most straightforward to form. I took my time with the calligraphy; I was in no hurry.

"Dearest Dylan, if you should ever set eyes on this then I must have lost the fight. The fight I had once conveyed would be beyond belief for your ever-questioning mind.

I am, what you know by myths, a siren. Except, I am not half-half, a human and a merperson. I am from somewhere I know to be an 'underworld.' I was banished and am slowly becoming like your kind. By some primal knowledge, we refer to you as land-dwellers.

I was found out by a fellow siren—a wicked one. And he has threatened to murder Ver Mon Lagho if I do not follow him. I fought, Dylan. I tried my best, but for your sakes—yours and Mr Silvan's—I could only fight so much. I have failed, Dylan, and at the expense of preserving your lives.

I have found a true friend in you, however, you must quell all thoughts to treasure-hunt me. Unless, all my efforts will be in vain.

To answer your probably budding curiosities: Yes, I had a tail; yes, I can compel others with a whisper; yes, I am chronologically over a hundred years old; no, I don't go after pirates.

To now and beyond Yara,

Yara.

I was pleased with the letter. I read and reread it but the heavy guilt I felt would not let me move on. Dylan would be so angry if he read this, he'd always wanted to help and I did not help him. Eventually, I folded the paper and stuck it inside my pillowcase. I tried to put pen on paper, tried to write something for Mr Silvan. No words came so I set it aside for later. I lay my head down but couldn't sleep. The following day was going to see me visiting the sheriff to put my plan in place.

Sheriff Evaille Hedaker was wed to Sharon Hedaker, one of Lilnton Hedaker's daughters. I had seen him in person only once, other time. He was middle-aged but carried himself with the swagger of a much younger guy. I didn't really know anything more about him but amongst friends I may have admitted that he looked too carefree for my liking. I trekked the path to the station by midday, and told the officer at the front desk, "I am here to see the sheriff."

He slid me a notepad from under the screen. "Put down your name and your reason for visit."

I promptly did so and registered in my reason for visit: Personal matters.

Then he ushered me to a bench by the wall. I waited there for hours. Police officers moving up and down but none acknowledging me. For a moment, I thought they had forgotten I was even there. After about two hours, I went to the front desk officer to remind him that I was there.

He merely blurted out a, "Be patient. The sheriff is coming."

Another two hours and it was already getting dark. I did not bother to ask the officer again and just counted my teeth with my tongue over and over again. When at last it was dark and the number of cops working in the station had dwindled, I went to the front desk again just to find a different officer—a much younger and politer one.

"May I help you?"

"My name is Yara Tomestrano. I have been sitting around here for over five hours, waiting to see the sheriff."

"Oh sorry. The sheriff did not come in today. Had some personal stuff to deal with."

I couldn't hide the frustration on my face.

"Did Officer Wills tell you to wait here for the sheriff?"

I nodded.

He chuckled, "Officer Wills is grumpy like that. He doesn't like to say things that have to be said. It's pretty much why he is still on desk duty."

"Okay. I should be going."

"It's dark out there and you are a girl. I could drive you home if that's fine by you."

"Don't you have to watch the station?"

"Miriam is filing some stuff by her desk. It's not like anyone is coming in tonight anyway," he said. "Hey, Miriam, watch the front."

"Why?" Officer Miriam called from another room.

"I want to drop a resident by her home. She's young; it's not safe."

"Got it."

I entered the passenger side of his car whilst thanking him vehemently.

"I am Officer Kyle by the way," he told me. "Do you mind a smoke?"

"I don't."

He whipped out a cigarette and lit it.

"Where do you live?"

"Down by the beach. Close to Landon's. You know, Landon's?"

"I am still getting used to Ver Mon Lagho. I am rather new. So you'll show me the place?"

"I will."

"Buckle up then."

I wouldn't have considered Kyle if I had never met him. He wasn't what I first thought of but the more he spoke, the more I felt that he so perfectly soothed my plan. He was still new, probably transferred and so no family around. He was quick to help, an unresisting vessel. Not many people had him in mind, not many people would ask him questions. In fact, much of his task was to obey orders without question. I seemed a fool now for ever targeting the sheriff who had more root planted in Ver Mon Lagho.

"Kyle," I sirened, voice cracking. "You'll meet me every evening by the docks in casual clothing. You are not permitted to speak to anyone about our engagement. Understood?"

He stopped rambling about his life and murmured, "Understood."

Carle had made me like himself. To resort to this? I felt disgusted with myself.