Melissa took them on a path that crossed through the village, threaded between buildings, and headed for the rim of the caldera. The path curled between two outcroppings and weaved back and forth as it made its way down the volcano. Eventually, it disappeared behind a rock formation. Shasta didn’t see it emerge on the other side.

  The path was steep, and rocks were poised to help the inattentive traveler trip. Shasta kept her eyes on the ground in front of her. A few minutes later they rounded the rock. Ahead of them the path continued until it vanished into a deep shadow in the side of the volcano. As they approached, the shadow resolved itself into a cave opening. The morning sun didn’t reach far enough in for Shasta to see more than rocks and darkness.

  Melissa pointed to a plastic container leaning several feet away from the opening of the cave. “Two nights ago we found this inside the cave.”

  Shasta walked closer, studying the bottle. It was clear plastic, about two liters in size, holding some type of clear liquid—hardly a good indicator for what was actually inside. There was a plethora of fluids that matched that description. “Do you know what’s in the bottle?”

  Melissa shook her head. “It does not belong in the cave, so we moved it and waited for you to arrive.”

  “Can I see where the bottle was found originally?” Shasta tugged the camera out of her pack.

  “No,” Melissa snapped. “You are not allowed in the cave.”

  Shasta turned to look at the siren. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, and she kept darting glances toward the cave. Shasta kept the camera in her hand but made no move to use it. “It’s easier for me to investigate when I can see where something is found. I’m happy to stay out here, but it would be helpful to know why someone would want to cause problems inside the cave.”

  Melissa sighed. “Agatha says you can be trusted, but we’ve never had strangers on this island.”

  “I truly wish to help. I have no interest in causing you any harm,” Shasta said earnestly.

  “Finish with that.” Melissa pointed at the clear bottle.

  Shasta slowly turned back and took a few pictures of the container. She put the camera back in her pack and dug out a glove, a clear bag, a pen, and a roll of tape. She slipped the glove on her hand, then carefully picked up the bottle and set it in the plastic bag. After sealing it, she ripped off a piece of tape, put that across the seam, and wrote her name, the time, and the location on it. Then she took off the glove, tucking it into the waste bag inside her pack. The bag holding the bottle went into the main compartment. She traded the tape for a notepad and scribbled down what the siren had told her about the bottle.

  With the notepad and pencil in her hand, she got to her feet. “All done here.”

  Melissa nodded, but she didn’t look as certain as she had before. “This is a very special place to us. It is forbidden to any others.”

  “I will not venture where I’m not welcome.” Shasta bowed her head respectfully.

  “Good.” Melissa spun on her heel and headed back up the path.

  Shasta followed her, sending one last glance back at the cave. Her word meant something. She wouldn’t come back here and poke around, not without asking for permission, but she had to wonder what was so important that the siren wouldn’t even tell her what was in the cave.

  “We are very careful of the cave, and never leave anything like that there.” Melissa looked back over her shoulder to make sure Shasta was following her.

  “I’ll see if I can figure out what’s in the bottle.” She would also see how it fit in with any other evidence she collected and if there were any patterns.

  Melissa was silent as she guided Shasta back to the town. Instead of returning the way they had come, Melissa cut through a stand of hazelnut trees and stopped beside a squat building with sturdy wood doors. “This is one of our storerooms. We found a box of ants overturned in here.”

  Shasta quickly wrote down the information in her notebook. “When was this?”

  “Three moons ago. We destroyed the box and every ant we could find.”

  “Is the door locked?”

  Melissa shook her head. “We never saw a reason. We would not hurt each other, and who else could get here without us noticing?”

  “That’s what I’m going to figure out.” Shasta studied the building. Normally she’d walk around, see how a person could’ve gotten in, but since they didn’t lock the door, there wasn’t much point. “I’m done here.”

  Shasta followed Melissa to another spot, this one the bath house, where Melissa told her dye had been poured in the cistern. It was another unguarded place, and yet again the evidence was long gone. If the scenes continued like this, with little to no physical evidence for her to study, it would be nearly impossible to figure out who was behind these pranks. She needed something that narrowed the pool of suspects rather than leaving it open to everyone in the village and someone sneaky enough and clever enough to make their way up here.

  From there Melissa took Shasta to the top of the path down to the rest of the island. She stopped and pointed a few feet ahead where the path narrowed as it turned to curve around the volcano. “About a week ago we found tripwires across here.”

  Shasta added that to her notes and then motioned for Melissa to continue. So far this felt a lot more like it should be an internal matter than an outside investigation. However, as long as they were nice hosts and paid, a job was a job.

  Only a short ways down the path, Melissa paused again. “We often jump through this section. Wires were strung about ten feet off the ground.”

  Shasta looked at the tree on the downhill side of the path. It was pine, which for this island was rather unremarkable. However, it was also edging in on twenty feet tall, which was a rarity. On the mountainside about six feet above the path was a shorter tree. It was a more common size for island trees, and because of its stature was easier to tie a rope on than the tree across the path.

  Having seen how the sirens could jump, Shasta figured it wouldn’t be that difficult for one of them to get high enough in the tree to attach the rope. This was a trap that had to be set up by a siren or someone who knew they would be in the air on this part of the path. That spoke to a level of knowledge that most people wouldn’t have about this community. After adding the information to her notebook, she motioned for Melissa to continue the tour.

  The siren nodded. “From here we will be going around the island.”

  “Did any area have more incidents?” She didn’t mind tromping across the island, but since she couldn’t gather evidence at most of these places, it made more sense to look for patterns.

  “The cove and dock area have been targeted multiple times.” Melissa seemed somewhat reluctant to admit to that.

  “Why don’t we start there?”

  Melissa led Shasta down the path and then to the right. Before long, they were within sight of the dock. Unlike yesterday, today it was covered in seals. There had to be at least twenty of them sprawled out. All of them were over four feet long, and they ranged in color from silver to gray with dark spots.

  Rather than take them onto the dock, Melissa walked to the side, where they had a good view of the area. She pointed to a section of the cove that was sheltered by a strip of land. “We found nets in the water over there. It’s a favorite swimming place for many of us. Then over by the dock we found underwater speakers that emitted a very annoying sound. On the far side, several lines with more than a dozen fishhooks attached to each of them were laid out underwater. They are difficult for us to see when we swam.”

  Shasta copied the information down in her notebook. “Do you still have any of these items?”

  “Perhaps. When we’re finished, I’ll check.” Melissa sounded no happier to be dealing with Shasta than she had earlier today.

  Shasta glanced at Melissa while the siren was gazing across the water. She looked somewhere between bored and impatient with the proceedings. Why would Agatha assign Melissa to show her around if Melissa was so disinclined to volunteer information?

  “You need anything else here?” Melissa asked, finally looking back at Shasta.

  “This will do for now. Let’s finish up down here.” The sooner Melissa finished the tour, the sooner Shasta could come back and do her own investigation without the grumpy siren in tow.

  Melissa guided them around the base of the volcano to a rock-covered shore. “We found several flares in this area, both on the shore and in the water. We also found a line of fishing hooks here.”

  As Shasta made notes, she studied the area. As rocky as it was, this wasn’t likely to be a prime swimming spot. However, it could be a lovely place to watch the waves and dangle toes or fingers into the water. That made the fishhooks a real problem, as they could easily injure the sirens. The flares made less sense to her. She watched a wave roll in, frothing around the rocks before slowly retreating. An oddly rounded shape bobbed against a rock.

  She tucked the notepad in her pack and hopped onto a mostly dry rock. She carefully stepped over to the next rock. The third rock was moss covered and slightly slippery. She carefully balanced her weight as she knelt, tilting her head to the side to get a better view of the object. A wave pushed it against the rock, exposing rubber tread. It was the heel of a work boot.

  “How long ago was the last incident in this area?” Shasta got out the camera and snapped a few pictures. She wobbled as she traded it for gloves, a bag, a pen, and a roll of tape.

  “Five days ago.”

  There was a chance that this could be evidence. Shasta pulled on the gloves, opened the bag, and carefully fished the boot out of the water. She slid it into the bag, which she zipped closed and taped shut. She pulled the glove off and shoved it into the waste bag in her pack. Then she quickly wrote down the location, date, and time of the find.

  “Why are you collecting that?”

  Shasta suppressed a sigh. “There’s a possibility that it could be evidence.” She tucked everything, including the boot, into her pack.

  “Shoes wash up all the time.”

  Shasta closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It could be nothing, but it’s better to collect it and not need it than to ignore it and wish I had it.”

  Shasta turned back to see Melissa frowning. Why, she wasn’t sure, but she was more than ready to be done with having this particular siren show her around. “Show me the rest of the incident locations.”

  It didn’t take long for Melissa to walk around to a sloped beach where someone had chummed the waters. None of the sirens had been hurt, but since then sharks had been lingering in the area. Shasta took more notes and an obligatory picture, though there was no good reason to document empty water.

  “Be careful continuing down this stretch of beach. It isn’t far to where the lava oozes. Even when it looks cold, it is hot enough to burn,” Melissa warned.

  While she couldn’t see the lava flow, steam, likely from water being flash boiled, clung to the side of the island and swirled over the water. “Thanks for the warning.”

  From there they headed back to the town. They were most of the way up the trail when Melissa heaved a sigh. “I suppose there’s one more thing I should tell you about.”

  “Oh?” Shasta was rather afraid to hope for anything helpful, considering the sparse nature of the information she’d gotten so far.

  “I’m sure Agatha mentioned the murder.” Melissa waited just long enough for Shasta to nod before she continued. “That took place in the grove of lemon trees near the storehouse.”

  “Let’s go.” Shasta motioned for Melissa to lead the way. They crossed the town, coming to a halt in middle of the orchard of lemon trees.

  “Here.” Melissa stopped between two rows of trees.

  It was very nearly the center of the lemon orchard, with nothing to mark the spot. Shasta pivoted. The edge of the storehouse just peeked through the foliage. “Could you tell me how she was murdered?” Shasta tried to keep her voice very matter-of-fact.

  Melissa pursed her lips and looked away. “Her throat was slit.”

  “Do you know if she suffered any other injuries?”

  “None of which I am aware,” she said tersely.

  Shasta hesitated. It was a sensitive question, but it had to be asked. “Do you still have her body?”

  “No.” Melissa snapped. “We honored Doris as we would any of our dead, with a sea burial.”

  “I meant no disrespect,” Shasta offered.

  Melissa pursed her lips. “Do you need anything else?”

  Unfortunately, Shasta did have more questions, which meant more time with the surly siren. Most importantly, she needed estimates of when the various events had happened so she could put together a timeline. “Would you mind coming back to my house? I have a few more questions.”

  Melissa nodded tersely and resumed walking.

  Shasta suppressed a sigh and followed her. It would’ve been nice to have a more helpful guide.

  It took nearly an hour to get the timeline from Melissa, but in the end Shasta had a pretty good idea when everything had happened. Or, to be more accurate, she had a good idea when the sirens had been affected by the incidents. She had more than a passing suspicion that some of these more minor events had been going on for some time but didn’t draw attention immediately.

  By the time they were finished, it was somewhat after lunch. Shasta found the communal dining hall and gathered up a plate of food. Zosime and Ligia greeted her but left shortly after she arrived.

  After lunch, she returned to her house and started making lists. The first one was of incidents according to the timeline. Then she went back and color-coded them, highlighting the ones that occurred around the shore versus on the volcano. That left a very distinct pattern. The very first incidents had been down at the water. Then there had been some up in the village. After that they rotated. Something would happen in the water, then something would happen in the village.

  Shasta went over the timeline again. It didn’t look like all the incidents were orchestrated by one person. There hadn’t been any shoreside attacks since the murder. It was almost as if whoever was doing shore attacks knew that something else was afoot and wanted to be left out of it.

  There was a quick knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Shasta called out.

  Melissa pushed the door open and scooted a box inside. “Here’s the evidence you asked for.”

  “Thank you.”

  Melissa hesitated. “Have you found anything yet?”

  Shasta fell back on an Oaks Consulting stock answer. “I’ll let you know when I have something.”

  Melissa nodded and left.

  Shasta stared at the closed door. For as welcoming as Agatha had been, Melissa was a completely different story. Maybe at dinner one of the other sirens would be willing to talk.

  With a sigh, Shasta scooted back from the table and retrieved the box. Inside she found a flare gun, three fishing nets, a box of lines with attached fishing hooks, two slender silver-blue ropes, and an underwater speaker. Most of the items could’ve come from anywhere that sold marine or fishing equipment.

  She added the bottle of mysterious liquid and the shoe to the pile. The shoe was normal enough, if somewhat suspicious in its location, which left only the bottle. Shasta pulled on a pair of gloves and carefully opened the bag. She slid the bottle out and set it on the table. From the way the siren had treated the bottle, Shasta wasn’t sure what to expect. The location seemed to be of great significance to them, but without their anxiety, she would’ve guessed this was a regular water bottle. Now she worried it was far more dangerous.

  She very carefully twisted off the cap. The bottle sat there open, not doing anything the least bit suspicious. Shasta waved her hand through the air above the bottle, trying to push whatever scent might be coming out toward her nose.

  She got the first sharp whiff. Vinegar? She leaned closer. Yup, it smelled like distilled vinegar. She put a little in a cup. It just sat there. She touched her gloved hand to it. When there was no reaction, she prodded it with a touch of magic. That returned the same result. Shasta poured out the cup, capped the bottle, and resealed it in the bag. Why would it matter if vinegar had been in the cave? That was the important question, though she wasn’t sure who to ask.

  While she could try additional spells, her mother’s words of caution were still fresh in her mind. It would be better to keep that in reserve, especially since she didn’t know if the sirens were sensitive to magic.

  As Shasta packed everything up, she tried to figure out if she’d made progress. So far it didn’t feel like it. Once the evidence and her notes were tucked away, she made herself dinner. She ate sitting on a bench in front of her house, watching the sun set over the water.

  The expanse of the ocean put in perspective how very far she was from home and all of home’s problems. All her traitorous heart seemed to feel was the distance and the lack of Cord. She sternly reminded it that Cord didn’t want her. Or couldn’t decide if he wanted her, which in its own way was even worse. Her heart simply needed to find someone better and until then forget about Cord. Shasta wasn’t sure it was listening.

  The earth sent a pulse of concern followed by a gentle tug. Come, it whispered. Enjoy the shore.

  Heartsore, lonely, and relieved to be getting any interaction form the earth, Shasta followed the tug down the long path that curved around the volcano and to the rocky shoals where she’d found the boot.

  There in the last of the evening glow and the first glimmers of moonlight a siren was perched on a rock, her face turned up, the breeze teasing her hair. The waves crashed gently into the shore, frothing and spraying droplets of water at her.

  The sun slid below the horizon, and Shasta heard a splash. She pulled her eyes away from the siren only to find another siren lifting herself out of the water and settling on a rock. Then there were two more.

  The four of them sat in the moonlight wearing nothing but their skin and hair, and between the swish of the tide, Shasta heard a light hum.