Siren of the Lake

Chapter 5: Now or Never

Damon's muscles tensed and his feet swivelled around, instantly taking a step back to create distance between himself and the being behind him—but when he turned, there was no one there. He continued to spin in circles, looking everywhere for the source of the voice.

A gentle, yet sinister-like laugh bounced off the trees, snapping Damon's head in a hundred different directions. His eyes scanned the entire clearing, and his ears were crisp, ready for any movement. Except there was nothing. That was until his vision caught a hold of a creature in the distance, perched on a tall rock. Its body was lengthy and bare, with nothing covering its top half except its long hair.

Damon squinted his eyes, taking a step closer, still vigilant and alert, ready at any moment to grab a hold of his dagger. How did it possibly know he was there? He was cautious and aware of any noise he'd been making. There was no possible way anyone could've heard him.

“How odd," she said, her voice trilling towards him across the open water. “You're not who I was expecting."

Damon continued moving ahead, hoping to regain the advantage. His senses were high, more than he had ever experienced. “What were you expecting?" he asked coldly, not taking his eyes off her.

“I don't really know, to be honest—an angry Alpha, maybe those two teenage boys. But not you."

Teenage boys? Damon took one more step forward and his foot hit something on the ground, buried in the water. He bent down on his knee and placed his hand in the cold lake, immediately touching wet fabric. He felt around, moving from the clothed material down further until he hit something leathery and wrinkly. Was it—? It couldn't be. Damon moved his head down closer and his heart felt as if it had stopped. Galen.

He stepped back and readied himself for an attack. He looked towards the figure on the rock; the moonlight hit it in such a way that it illuminated the outline of its curved back.

The being turned only its head and looked at him with bright, light brown eyes that refracted the rays from the sky above, as its burgundy hair moved in the breeze that passed by every so often. It was the siren, and she had seen him. He was cornered and there was no where he could get to fast enough if she decided to sing. So, he had to keep her talking instead.

“You're the siren," he said, making sure to keep his distance.

She kept her gaze hooked on his, and then turned her head back. She lifted the bottom half of her body over the rock revealing a shimmering tail instead of legs. The siren repositioned herself on the surface so she was facing him in her entirety. “Actually, I'm Adelaide. And you are?"

Damon's eyes examined her features. All his life, he had heard of the siren of the lake and the horror stories that followed—how men were so enchanted by her beauty, that they rendered themselves capable of easily falling prey to her song. He never understood how one could be so enthralled by something so purely evil, knowing how dangerous it was. But now, he knew.

Maybe it was how her hair covered her bare chest, or the tinted sparkle that touched her skin; whatever it was, she was more beautiful than he had ever imagined. Only he was stronger than the others. He had trained for moments like this and knew of the risks involved. He had to do this: for Moonlight and his father. Yet, there was this distinct pull he felt towards her, and he couldn't quite place it.

“You're staring," she stated, breaking his inner dialogue.

Damon's mind bounced back almost instinctually, and his hands bawled into fists to prevent him from grabbing his weapon. If he used it too soon, he could either scare her off or she could get defensive and use her song before he had the chance to take her down. Either way, the outcome was bleak for him, so he needed to preserve his patience, which was wearing thinner by the second.

“You're just not what I expected," he said, mimicking her earlier words.

Adelaide laughed a melodic, gentle tone that seemed…genuine. “I guess we're both surprised then. But yours doesn't seem to be pleasant. Why?"

“Would you be pleased seeing the creature that is responsible for countless deaths?" he rebuked, using his senses to detect any sort of opening out of the situation he now found himself in.

And as if he had hit a nerve of some sort, Adelaide's face twitched, almost like a mask was falling, and she took a deep breath to keep it from slipping. A small smile donned her face. “I have not killed countless."

The tension in Damon's body rose, and he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, but he paced himself. “Are you going to tell that to him?" he asked as calmly as possible, while pointing to Galen's lifeless frame without breaking his gaze with the siren.

Adelaide's stare hesitantly moved from Damon to the body on the water and then almost immediately shifted it away. She adjusted her posture and pushed back a piece of hair out of her eyes. “That's one."

“And that's enough," Damon said.

Adelaide looked directly at him, like she was surveying him. “You're not like the others that've come here."

A prickling sensation filled Damon's body from his feet up to his fingertips. The time was coming—an opening. He just needed to hold out a little longer.

“What do you mean?" he prompted in an effort to keep her distracted.

Adelaide's gentle smile returned. “You're closed off and not at all affected by my appearance."

“What can I say?" Damon began. “I'm unique."

“That you are…" she said, letting her voice trail off. It was quiet between them for a minute, causing Damon to feel more on edge than he had this entire confrontation. “So, I guess we'll have to change tactics."

Damon's senses kicked into high gear, and he knew this was going to be it. Adelaide started to open her mouth; if he was to do it, it needed to be now, before she got the chance to utter a single note. He thrust off the mud under the water and raced towards the siren and when he was almost on top of her, he reached behind him for the dagger…

But he was too late. Her song had started and there was no going back. He had failed.