Watch, the earth whispered.

  Listen. The wind carried the sound toward her.

  A second hum joined the first and then a third and then a fourth. A single voice rose above the rest in a soaring soprano that seemed to carry the timbre of water, salty sea breeze, and gull cries. The words were unfamiliar, but as each voice joined the first, they drew her a little further in.

  Shasta’s heartache fell away from her as if she had never been in love. She forgot her worries about Cord and her future. She forgot everything but those voices. She could have been there a minute or a year without caring about anything but the song with the words she didn’t understand.

  At some point the moon rose high above the horizon, casting the area in a silvery glow. One of the sirens dropped out of the song. She slipped into the water, darting just under the surface, and leaped out at a crescendo. She dove back under and repeated the act with the next high note.

  One by one the rest of them joined her, continuing to sing even while they danced among the rolling whitecaps. Somehow, even with the frequent dives under the surface, the song carried on unbroken.

  Shasta waded into ankle-deep water, not feeling the chill as she watched them sing and dance. In the distance boat lights bobbed with the waves, but they weren’t as important as the song—the song that made her feel like everything would be fine. In the morning she would not love Cord.

  At some point the lights came close enough that Shasta could see the outline of a boat. The sirens swam away from shore. Shasta followed them until she was chest deep in the water. The note changed, and she couldn’t follow them anymore. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She simply wanted to be close to them. Why wouldn’t they let her be close to them?

  She heard splashes and deep laughter, the type a man might make when appreciating a woman. The sirens weren’t alone when they came back to shore, but she couldn’t focus enough to realize the implications of the three men following the sirens.

  The song commanded her to stay, so Shasta stood in the water as it slowly stole her warmth. All she could think of was the moment the song would allow her to approach the sirens, to run her fingers through their hair, to caress their skin.

  That moment never came. Instead she found herself on the shore, throaty chuckles finding their way between softly alluring notes. Somewhere in there the pain came back. She remembered the one beautiful night with Cord, when he’d offered her everything she now wanted and she’d said no. She remembered lonely night after lonely night and days spent wondering if Cord would ever stop feeling like a stranger.

  Finally, she shed tear after tear for what could have been. Her mind never went to the reasons Cord retracted his offer. She never thought of his disdain for her purpose. Shasta was so lost in her own memories that she didn’t think at all about the boat slowly drifting away.

  Likewise, she didn’t notice when the sirens’ song shifted to hypnotic repeating notes. She never saw one siren slide into the water with a man, diving deep. She didn’t see the second siren leave with her man. Or the first return to continue the song. Most of all, she didn’t see the pleading looks the last man gave her. She didn’t hear the splash of water as the last two sirens pulled him in the water. She didn’t see his hand grab on to the air as if it would save him.

  With the sirens at her side, Shasta forgot everything but the sound of the waves in the salty sea air.

  The song changed again, guiding her, giving her directions and a task. Alone, the notes playing over and over in her mind, Shasta walked up the path, through the town, and into her house, and tucked herself into bed.

  Chapter Five

  Shasta woke up feeling like a hundred dwarves were trying to mine their way out of her skull. Her eyelids fluttered open, and a sliver of light shot directly into her brain. She groaned, shielded her eyes with a hand, and prayed for death to come quickly.

  When minutes passed and somehow she was still alive, she cracked open an eye. The sun was just streaming in through the window. She carefully levered herself up into a sitting position, her head swimming with half-remembered images of bizarre dreams featuring sirens, a boat, and some rather beguiled men.

  She hadn’t done anything the day before to warrant this type of a headache. She checked the box of evidence and her notebook. They were exactly where she’d left them the night before, though that didn’t help her figure out why she felt so bad. As she stumbled through her morning routine, she couldn’t seem to shake the idea that something was down on the shoreline and she needed to go investigate it. After indulging in one of the small healing charms she’d packed, she was feeling better.

  She still had a job to do. Yesterday, while Melissa had been standing over her shoulder, Shasta had refrained from using magic or her elven abilities. Today she was going to be a bit more adventurous, using those abilities and passive magic that should be undetectable. In the past, the earth and its flora and fauna had helped her. Similar aid could be vital to solving the mysteries.

  With the images of the rocky seashore still floating through her mind, Shasta grabbed her pack and headed down the volcano. She stopped at the top of the path, where it was narrow and the low tripwire had been strung. She knelt down beside a tree Melissa had indicated was one of the anchor points. Shasta sucked in a deep breath of salty sea air and cracked her shields, letting herself feel everything around her. There wasn’t the faintest trace of magic. Since she wasn’t the most sensitive to magic, that didn’t rule out the possibility that it had been involved. It just indicated that none of it had lingered. From there she shifted her attention to more natural, elven things. The earth was quiet underfoot, which was unusual, but she wasn’t going to force it to communicate. The trees didn’t have the earth’s reservations, radiating contentment.

  She pressed a hand to the trunk of the pine tree. Who has touched you?

  It ruffled its needles and wiggled its roots. Wind. Earth. Sirens.

  Strangers?

  You.

  That wasn’t the information she’d been hoping for. She sent it a picture of someone tying a rope around it. Who?

  The tree yet again told her, Sirens.

  She sighed. Either it didn’t understand the question or a siren was responsible for the tripwire. Which didn’t make much sense, as they’d brought in an outsider to investigate who was doing these things. If it was one of their own, it would make more sense for them to police it themselves rather than advertise to other people that they were having problems, especially considering how little goodwill they seemed to have with the locals.

  After thanking the tree, she walked across the path to the tree on the other side. It was happy to meet her, but didn’t know of anyone who could be considered strange other than her. That wasn’t what she’d hope to hear.

  Frowning, she finally pressed her hand to the earth. Have you felt any disturbances?

  It hummed underfoot before finally telling her, No.

  Have any strangers been in this area? It was worth trying that question too. The worst that would happen was that she’d get the same answer the trees had given her, which in and of itself would tell her something.

  After a lengthy pause the earth said, No strangers.

  Thank you. Shasta dusted off her hands and stood up. Her eyes followed the trail, taking in the volcano, the wind-bent trees, and the shore. The earth had been slow to answer that last question. Slow in a way that, if the earth had been human, she might have considered deceptive. But the earth was simpler than that. It wasn’t purposefully deceptive or misleading. It was a constant, a bringer of life, a mother to all of them.

  “Good morning.” The voice was soft and hesitant.

  Shasta turned. Upon spotting the tall siren, she smiled. “Sappho, how good to see you.”

  “I know you’re busy, but I thought you might enjoy some company?” Sappho smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure you have questions, ones that weren’t answered yesterday.”

  Shasta studied the siren. She seemed trustworthy enough, but kind words and being a bit bashful weren’t the same as being trustworthy. However, Melissa hadn’t been a font of information. “Company and answers would be nice. I’m headed down to where the high tripwire was placed. Would you like to join me?”

  “Yes.” Sappho motioned down the path. “If you’re done here?”

  Shasta nodded and started walking. Sappho fell in step next to her. “I was a little uncertain from some of Melissa’s answers precisely how long ago the incidents started.”

  “Three months, though there may have been smaller things happening before then. After the waters were chummed, I think we all took a bit more notice.” Sappho smiled at Pelagia and Gaiana as they carried baskets of seaweed up the hill. When they were out of earshot, she continued. “The murder was most alarming, as was finding that bottle in the cave.”

  Shasta hesitated. There was something about that cave that was important, and while she would’ve preferred to ask Agatha, the sooner she had the information, the sooner she could make use of it. “Melissa was very agitated when we retrieved the bottle from the cave. When I asked what was special about the cave, she said it was a sacred place. I’m afraid I don’t entirely understand what type of sacred place and why a bottle of vinegar would be problematic.”

  At the word vinegar, Sappho paled. “Is that what it was? But why would anyone—?” Sappho shook her head. “Excuse me. While I’m willing to answer a great many questions, I must agree with Melissa’s answer on this one. The caves are the most sacred place on the island. While a bottle of vinegar might seem innocent to you, it has meaning to us. If you want to know more about the caves, you’ll have to ask Agatha.”

  It was a lot easier to help people when they gave you a straight answer. “Is it a place of religious significance?”

  “I suppose you could say that.” Sappho pursed her lips and shook her head. “Anything else you really must ask Agatha.”

  As soon as she finished giving everything a second look, she would do that. Until then, she moved to a different question, one she hoped Sappho would be able to answer. “I don’t know much about your people, and less about what would be an effective attack against them. Could you tell me why some of these incidents have been so concerning? Not the vinegar, but others like the speakers underwater, the dye, and anything you might know about who would’ve wanted to murder one of you.”

  They came to a stop next to the trees that had been used to hold the high tripwire. While Sappho considered what she would and wouldn’t answer, Shasta opened herself up, trying to feel for magic. As before, if there’d been any magic, it wasn’t here now.

  “Perhaps the dye does not sound concerning, but it was oil based. That type of oil disrupts our skin’s ability to adapt between land and water.”

  “Whoever planned that attack had to know a lot about the sirens.” Shasta watched Sappho. “More than the townsfolk might know.”

  Sappho nodded. “We keep to ourselves. I suppose an outsider could know that information, but where would they learn it from? The closest settlement of our kind is in the Mediterranean.”

  “But someone did know. And that person was able to infiltrate the heart of your town.” Shasta pressed her hand against the larger of the two trees that had been used to string the tripwire.

  New. Different. The tree whispered, its bark rubbing against her palm.

  Yes, I am. She phrased her question simply. Someone put a rope on you. Who?

  It retreated, leaning away from her hand.

  Shasta kept the distance between her hand and the bark, but pressed forward with the questions. Was it a siren?

  Silence was the only answer.

  She dropped her hand with a frustrated sigh.

  “To keep a secret,” Sappho said.

  “What?” Shasta turned around and looked at the siren.

  Sappho’s lips were pressed into a thin line, and determination, fear, and a hint of something else Shasta couldn’t quite read shone out of her eyes. “It’s the only reason I can think to kill one of us. No siren has seriously hurt another since we moved to Sirenum. Now one of us ends up dead. The murderer was trying to keep a secret.”

  While she didn’t doubt the siren, Shasta was curious. “How do you know?”

  “The murder brought more tension, renewed Agatha’s desire to have someone like you come here. On this island the only thing that valuable would be information. There was a secret, and Doris died so that it would stay secret.” Sappho held Shasta’s gaze until the last word. Then she turned and looked out over the ocean.

  Yet again Shasta felt too young and too inexperienced for this job. There were no words to make someone feel better about their friend having been murdered. There was no way to apologize for asking the questions she had to ask. “I’m going down to the dock to see what I can find there. Other questions can wait. I’d like to hear about life on the island.”

  Sappho turned back with a forced smile. “Then to the dock we will go. What about life on this fair island would you like to know?”

  “Do all your supplies come over on Carmen’s boat?” After all, someone had to have a way to get the dye here.

  “We have a service in town that accepts deliveries for us. It batches them up and gives them to Carmen every week or two. She brings them over. Her husband used to make the runs with her, but he was out on a boat with a friend and something happened. They never found the bodies, and the boat floated back in the harbor when the tide came in.” Sappho moved with fluid grace, but she rolled up on her toes, as if she was ready to make one of those incredible leaps at a moment’s notice.

  Shasta thought back. Carmen had mentioned people missing but hadn’t said anything about her husband being one of them. “How long ago?”

  “Oh, close to four months ago.” Sappho paused. “Were you planning on going out on the dock?”

  Shasta focused on what was ahead of them rather than the siren by her side. Yet again the dock was absolutely covered in seals. There wasn’t a spare square inch of room. Some of them had even pulled themselves up onto the beach. “I had wanted to. Should I come back when they aren’t here?”

  Sappho shrugged. “They do not bother us. If you give them some space, I doubt they will attempt to harm you. However, if there’s an area you need to search, I may be able to persuade them to sun elsewhere.”

  “Melissa said underwater speakers were found here, as were lines of fishhooks and nets. Unless I’m presented with a compelling reason to search the waters and the underside of the dock, I was planning on getting a feel for the area, seeing if I could learn anything from nature.” She left off the part about looking for magic. Nothing she’d heard so far made her want to trust the sirens with her secret.

  “The speakers were found under the dock, but I do not believe anything remains down there that will be of interest to you.”

  Having seen the speakers, Shasta was inclined to agree with her. Whoever had planted them had done so without leaving a trace she or the sirens would be able to identify. Shasta pointed to a strip of beach a good ten feet from any of the seals. “I’ll just get a little closer and observe from there.”

  Sappho trailed after her. “I do not believe I fully answered your previous question. We have several phones and solar chargers. We have money. We have catalogs. We can call in our orders and pay for them without ever having to leave the island.” Sappho stopped when Shasta stopped.

  “So it wouldn’t be easy to figure out who ordered what and when.” Shasta felt the sand settle under her feet. The waves reflected the bright sun, making it hard to look at the water. The breeze carried a bit of the spray off the cresting waves and over to where Shasta stood, dampening her face.

  “If you are assuming the dye was ordered by one of our own, then short of listening to every conversation and opening every package, there is no way for us to determine who purchased the item or when it arrived.” Sappho wiped a few droplets of ocean water off her face. “Agatha has restricted use of the phones, but she’s not yet willing to invade every siren’s privacy.”

  Shasta heard what wasn’t said. Living with each other for so long and in such a small community didn’t leave much privacy. What little they did have was likely sacred and respected. “I understand that.”

  She left the conversation there and turned to her job. She cracked open her shields and extended her senses. If there had been magic here, it was gone now. Though based on the type of disturbances that had been in this area, Shasta suspected nonmagical origins.

  One of the seals barked, and several of its fellows made a game of who could be the loudest. Overhead a seagull swooped down low before winging back up into the sky.

  Tucking the more magical side of her power back inside her shields, Shasta examined the area as an elf would. The sand was warm under her feet, and the earth still refused to communicate. The salt-laden air swirled around her, but under that was a consistent eastward wind. Then there was the ocean. All around the island it continued its steady dance. Waves crashed into the shore and retreated before repeating the steps again and again. But somewhere in all that she felt something pushing against her, trying to shove her senses back inside her body.

  “Sappho!”

  The shout broke her concentration. Shasta found herself firmly back in her own skin, her shields back in place.

  “Sappho!”

  Ignoring the second shout, Shasta sent her power outside her shields, this time directing it toward the ocean. The waters rose, fell, and swirled. Nothing pushed her. Frowning, Shasta focused her attention on the earth beneath her. The hum was there, constant and eternal, just as it should be. Whatever had shoved her so rudely back into her body was gone.

  “Sappho, we need you up at the cave—”

  Shasta turned around to see Sappho glaring at Melissa, who wilted under her angry gaze.

  “I know it has been some time since we entertained others, but I do not believe manners have changed much since. Shasta is a guest who will be given that respect.” Sappho angled her head toward Shasta. “Would you like to add anything?”