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They’re bound to circle back for me.

“Go now!” Zephyr says, but I take the bottle instead. If I’m going to become a human, it will be my decision.

“What do I do?” I ask.

“Drink,” the sirens answer.

I knock the potion back, my mouth puckering as its sourness stings my tongue. My abdomen tenses against the liquid dripping into my stomach. I clap a hand over my mouth to hold it down.

One of the sirens opens the clamshell pendant hanging from her neck. “Now sing.”

A convulsion shudders through me as I wrench out the notes of a song my mother used to sing to me. They empty from my throat, each one irretrievable once they’re formed.

A searing pain draws a line down the center of my tail, and black spots dance in my vision as I’m split open. I scream, but only bubbles and blunt sounds come out.

I’m a clownfish opening and closing my mouth. Blub-blub-blub.

My scales peel away, and I’m rewrapped in a sheet of skin pulling tight around my boiling organs. If my arms were tired before, they’re dead now.

I reach for the moonlight rippling above me and sink back down again, the two pieces of my tail struggling to work in tandem. My ribs expand, desperate for air, but my gills are sealed over, unable to filter oxygen.

I’m stuck beneath the sea, muted. Drowning. Silver light sparkles from my pendant, bright and blinding. When it dissipates, the water is too dark for me to see.

This is the end, I think, as strong hands clasp around my waist and I’m drawn into a wall of warmth.

Zephyr has me.

My thoughts float to the top of my head, an incoherent flotsam mess as they kick their way up to the surface. I could drift away, my limbs dangling like the stinging threads of a jellyfish, but their arms tighten around me, locking me in place.

They hold on as we’re swept into a wave. I suck in air and sea spray, not caring how much it hurts on the way down. I don’t have time to think about anything else before Zephyr’s back hits the wet sand, taking the brunt of the impact.

I sputter as they roll me over and pin their knees outside my hips, caging me in with their body. Water drips from their silver braid onto my neck, and my skin prickles into tiny bumps from the chill of it.

Their white eyebrows pinch together as their periwinkle eyes sweep over my body, concern pinched into their features. Up this close, I can see them so clearly. I watch a bead of water roll down the straight bridge of their nose and hang from the rounded tip.

They wipe it away and cup my face, turning my head from side to side. “Can you speak?”

Their thumb strokes my cheek as they wait for my response, their eyes round with worry. I have the fleeting thought that I must have looked like them when I realized the sailor was dead.

“I think so,” I croak, surprised that the words come so easily. “Yes.”

They nod a few times, then hang their head, making a noise that could be a sob or a laugh as they ask, “What have you done?”

4

ZEPHYR

Water pools in the hollow of Cordelia’s throat. I watch it ripple, afraid her bones will melt away if I look directly at her.

My knees grind into the sand to stop my quads from shaking. I can’t stay here like this forever. If the sea witch has played some awful trick, I’ll have to confront it.

I force myself to lift my gaze, taking her in.

Dark tendrils of wet hair coil in the sand as she tilts her head back, the moon painting a pearlescent sheen over her wet skin. The deep tan layered over her fair olive-toned complexion is beginning to fade along with the last mild days of autumn.

Fine lines fan out around the bridge of her sloped nose as she squints, making her appear fully human.

She’s lost her supernatural glamour, but ships would still wreck themselves at the sight of her.