Sound of Sirens: (Tales of Skylge #1) (9 page)

I stop. To look like a Current is a thing some people aim for – even if they’re not willing to admit it – but I’m sure Sytse aspires to no such thing.

“Like a married man,” I finish lamely. “You know, all grown up and stuff.”

He smiles faintly. “Not ready to tie the knot just yet,” he replies softly. “If I marry someone, I’d like for her to build a life with me in a world without injustice and discrimination.”

“Yeah, I get that.” A little bit subdued, I walk over to the counter and turn on the stove to fry some eggs and sausages for breakfast. There’s still some smoked mackerel left from last night, so I dump some of that on my plate too. By the time Dad comes out in his best suit, the kitchen is filled with mouth-watering smells of food and sweet herbal tea.

“So, are you going to tell the Skelta that it was me who stole his book?” I inquire a bit anxiously once we’re all sitting down for breakfast.

Sytse shakes his head. “I’ll tell him Alke borrowed it and it was a misunderstanding. I don’t want you involved.”

My mouth drops open. “Alke?” I manage to utter.

He shrugs. “Yeah. He’s a part of our organization, too. I trust you can keep that secret.”

Well, that explains the flustered look on Alke’s face when I mentioned Twarres to him. “Of course.”

“And I expect you to stay away from that Bolton guy from now on,” Sytse continues, his face darkening. “The arrogant prick. Lording his wealth over you by letting you use his LP player. If anything, he should be thankful to
you
.”

I register the shocked look on my father’s face. “Thanks, bro,” I grumble, violently stabbing my sausage with a fork. “I really wanted
Heit
to know that.” Plus, it’s not even true. Royce never boasted his riches in front of me. And he had been grateful for my presence.

“So?” Sytse prompts me when I don’t say anything else.

“So, what?”

“Will you keep your distance?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes at him. “I guess Alke is off-limits too, huh? Because of his involvement with the resistance? Maybe you’d like to make me a list of people I
can
be friends with.”

Sytse glares at me. “Don’t get fresh with me, Enna. I don’t want you to befriend someone who runs in a completely different circle. Now that you know my secret, you might let something slip.”

“Oh, of course, because I’m a complete idiot,” I snide. “Besides, what could I possibly blurt out by accident? You haven’t even told me what you guys are up to, and you’ve taken the damn book back.”

The look in Sytse’s eyes softens. “Look, I’m sorry. I never wanted you to get mixed up in this. But now that you are, I want to keep you safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” I mutter.

“Okay. I trust you.” He smiles, and I give him a half-hearted smile back. I feel just a little bit guilty for lying to him – but only slightly. I don’t need to give up seeing Royce, because I know what I’m doing.

––––––––

A
fter breakfast, Grandma Antje shows up in her best dress and she and my father make their way to the neighbors’ house to hitch a ride on the carriage. Sytse, Dani, and I cycle to Brandaris, chatting about the upcoming performances all the way to town. There’s supposed to be a collaboration of local Skylger artists on Sunday, but that will take place in Osterend, not the capital.

“Are you going?” Dani wants to know when Sytse brings it up.

“Of course. I prefer Osterend to Brandaris any day.”

“What about you?” Dani turns her head to look at me.

I hesitate. Normally speaking, I’d trawl the smaller venues on the island with her during the weekend. “Maybe I should stay in,” I reply. “I still haven’t done any work on that history assignment, and Buma wanted to see my outline on Monday.”

Dani chuckles. “So diligent.”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have wasted all that time on reading a book I couldn’t quote as a source anyway,” I add, sounding a bit sour on purpose.

“You got that right,” Sytse says. “Whatever you do, don’t mention the book to Buma. He’s a true Current in the rough.”

He sounds so contemptuous that I raise my eyebrows at him. “You got a bone to pick with your former teacher?”

He shrugs. “Nothing personal. I just happened to know he used to work closely with the Skelta until he was recruited into the Currents’ army of historical revisionism. One minute he believed the Skelta was right about historical accounts being altered, and the next he was perpetuating the Brandaris Tower myth to the entire school. Guess who lives in a luxurious house close to Upper Brandaris now? Rumor has it he’s even connected to the Grid once every week, to buy his loyalty.”

“Really?” I give him a bug-eyed stare.

“Well, it’s a rumor. But there’s always a kernel of truth in those.”

Sytse’s words are still running through my head by the time we park our bikes next to the town hall. A gigantic stage has been erected next to the Brandaris Tower and a large crowd has gathered to attend the opening. I see kids from school, some teachers, neighbors from Kinnum and the nearby village of Baydunen. Further up, I see some Current journalists positioned right in front of the stage to take pictures of the mayor and the Skelta during their speeches. As expected, a huge number of Currents are seated on the bleachers to the left, under the big tarp that is presently blocking the sunlight instead of raindrops. Their loss.

I defiantly turn my face to the sun to soak up the energy that’s freely available to everybody, regardless of their background. Who knows – if Tesla ever got the means and resources to do proper research, maybe he’d find out how to harness the power of the sun one day so we could all equally benefit from that blazing fire in the sky.

When I open my eyes and stare at the Current grandstand once more, my eyes zoom in on a familiar dark-haired guy standing there, looking out over the stage. He is swarmed by pretty girls who are all flicking their hair, trying so hard to get him to notice them that it makes me feel angry with jealousy and deflated all at once.

How can he
not
like all that attention? Why does he flee to Stortum to sit there in solitude when he could have a fan club of drop-dead gorgeous girls to tend to his every whim? I don’t get it. I don’t believe that could be the truth. I should turn my attention back to the stage, and yet I find I can’t tear my gaze away from his handsome face. One of the girls takes his hand, and I remember what his hand felt like on my knee the other night. A pleasant heat rushes to my cheeks.

At that precise moment, Royce seems to feel the weight of my stare. He looks up from his casual conversation with the girl and his blue eyes land on me.

I swallow hard. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t look away either. I ball my hand into a fist when I notice I want to raise it for a tentative wave.
Stop being an idiot
, my inner voice tells me.
He’s not going to wave back
.

And then my heart stops when he does give me a smile. It’s barely there, but it touches his eyes, and it is directed at me. Even though he’s still holding the blonde girl’s hand.

“Hey, little dreamer.” Sytse pokes me in the side. “What are you standing around like that for? If we don’t hurry, we’ll have the shittiest places in the whole square.”

“What about Dad and Grandma?” I say.

“
Heit
and Antje are sitting over there on top of the carriage, see? No worries. Come on.”

I see a gray and a dark-brown head sticking out above the crowd. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

My heart trips like a Current trance beat. It reminds me of that time I was hiding in the delivery quadrangle of the
Electron
once, after a late school party. The Current club is alongside the Longway leading to Upper, just three hundred yards away from the exit to Dead Men’s Caskets. Annie, a classmate with a rebellious streak, had taken me last year because she knew where to go to secretly listen to their music. Standing out there in the dark with her, I’d imagined what it looked like inside as Annie’s hoarse voice described to me how the Currents’ lean bodies writhed under flashing, colorful lights, sweaty with exhaustion. She knew, because she’d been inside once – using the back door to sneak in after dropping off a delivery from her father’s brewery. The thrumming of the ground underneath our feet and the wisps of hypnotic trance-like music drifting out through the cracks in the doorframe had reminded me of another world. A forbidden, dark, and sexual place.

Royce’s smile just now reminded me of that place. It makes my blood run hot and cold at the same time.

“What’s up?” Dani inquires as she pulls me along. “You look flustered.”

“It’s hot in the sun,” I mumble evasively.

“Well, you want to sit under the tarp, then?” she giggles. “Together with you-know-who?”

“I’m not going to hang out with him anymore,” I say. If Sytse is ever going to believe that lie, I should tell Dani the same thing. On our way here, she and Sytse agreed to go to Osterend together on Sunday, so it’s best if they both believe I’m working on my history assignment.

In truth, I’m keeping myself available on Sunday just in case.

Just in case that look passing between Royce and me meant anything at all.

––––––––

A
s expected, Mayor Edison drones on and on about the friendship between the Currents and the Skylgers, and the Oorol festival being a symbol of our harmony. Why is he always so insistent that we’re friends? We’re not even equal partners in this supposed union. The Currents don’t really need us. I’ve wondered for a while now why their beloved St. Brandan ever decided to set up shop here in the first place. Maybe Royce knows.

After Edison is done, the Skelta takes the stage. He reminds me of my late grandfather – tall and gray-haired, his face weathered from living in a coastal town all of his life. The wind, the sea salt, and the Nixen’s call will do that to you.

When he starts to speak, a hush falls over the crowd. Somehow, his presence is far more commanding than Edison’s. His voice is steady and gentle as he addresses the audience, but mostly the ones in the open air. “Dear islanders,” he says. “Oorol is a time for celebration and culture. It is a time to embrace our past and our future together. Let us not look at each other and fear the unknown. Let us stand side by side and respect our roots as well as what’s ahead of us. In sharing our music, we are sharing our souls. It’s time for the traditional Skylger choir to sing to our ancestors and pay tribute to the past, just like your Firekeepers appease the darker creatures that roam our waters with melody and light.”

The Baeles-Weards girls will perform later tonight, but I won’t be there to witness it. Their songs remind me too much of the actual Sirens’ song, but their voices seem to sing the haunting melodies in reverse, if that makes any sense.

Everybody applauds as the Skelta gives the floor to our traditional singers. They’re wearing folkloric costumes vaguely reminding me of the attire that the old people in the forbidden book were dressed in. I’ve never wondered about their outfits before, but now I wonder who picks their costumes and if there is any meaning behind the various shades of blue in the fabric.

A shiver runs through me when they start singing and the Skylgian language washes over the multitude. Half of the people here no longer know what the words mean, but I do, and so do Dani and my family. The song speaks of longing for a lost home, the call of the past, and our deepest respect for the sea. Nowhere does it mention terror or fear. Surely a song honoring our origins wouldn’t include the latter, but it suddenly strikes me as strange that the ancient hymns don’t mention anything negative at all. I’ve lived on this island my whole life, and everybody knows that the sea and its creatures can be dangerous. The Nixen aren’t just a part of our past – they are very much a part of our present.

It’s as if they’re trying to save them
. Dani’s words echo through my mind, remembering me of the old ink drawings and the things she found out about Dead Men’s Casket Lake. Suddenly, I’m terribly upset about losing the book to the Skelta and the resistance. I would have loved to know more about our lost tales.

“You coming?” Dani wants to know as the square partly empties after the choir has gone off-stage. “You wanted to go see Adrian Limes, right?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

We get our bikes and zigzag through the crowd of people, all of them on their way to the park. I know it’s silly, but I keep looking back to see what Royce is doing. According to old customs, he’ll have to wait for the sacred choir of St. Brandan to finish their performance before he can go anywhere else. He’s one of the Current VIPs, after all. For the first time, I wonder how much of a cage the easy life is to Royce. Sure, bars keep the danger out, but they also keep his people locked up. I think he’s trying to escape by composing – his music sounds like he’s celebrating a certain kind of freedom that is always just out of reach.

I should really stop thinking about him.

“So. You and Sytse, huh?” I say once we’ve left our bikes at the park entrance and slowly make our way toward the small stage.

Dani blinks at me in alarm. “W-what do you mean?”

I chuckle. “Just that you guys are going to Osterend tomorrow. But after your reaction, I should probably assume it means more.”

“Don’t be absurd.” She looks away.

“Yeah, ‘cause my brother is not a big fan of age gaps, apparently.”

“Oh.” Dani pauses for a few seconds. “What makes you say that?”

I clear my throat. “He said Royce was way too old to hang out with the likes of me.”

Dani shakes her head. “Not
that
old.”

“Well. I’m not going to see him again anyway.”

My friend shoots me a sideward glance. “For real?”

“Yes.”

“You’re really giving him up because Sytse wants you to?”

I shrug awkwardly. “I guess.”

In the silence that follows, I can see a look of incredulity grow in Dani’s brown eyes as she stares me down. “You’re not going to give him up,” she finally establishes. “I know you. That’s not the way you tick.”