“Then I will tell your mother tomorrow. What of the account, should you die?”

  That was another detail Neris hadn't thought of. “Use your best judgment.”

  Crosby shook his head. “I hope you win, son, and not merely because your mother would never forgive me for not dissuading you, if you died. I believe you have a remarkable future, and I would like to see it manifest.”

  “Thank you.” A remarkable future? That might simply be his own delusion of consequence.

  That was it. They returned to his home apartment to rest before the challenge.

  Rosie was there. “You're going to do it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Just to get her help on crafting a bad dream.”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn't this seem like shooting a sparrow with a cannon, even to you?”

  “If the dream works, the problem of pollution may be abated. That could accomplish my life mission and save the world from its own folly, as well as helping the nereids. That seems worth the risk.”

  “But Hedva is working on a way to nullify the pollution.”

  “Hedva may die before she succeeds.”

  She sighed. “You're crazy, Neris, but I love you anyway, in my fashion.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Do prevail. I don't want to have to sleep alone. The bed would get cold.” She smiled sadly.

  He thought of something. “If I die, you should manage the account.” There was no need to mention which account. “Continue the anti-pollution effort, even after Hedva dies. Hire another chemist. Get it done.”

  “I will,” she agreed bravely.

  Then it was time to go.

  It was dusk as they entered the castle, and the small throng of people had dissipated. The desk clerk looked up. “Go on in, sir. She's expecting you.” She didn't see Nerine, of course.

  Just like that! “I made no appointment.”

  “Gods don't. But they must nevertheless be obliged.”

  “She saw me coming?” Neris asked.

  “She says she's in heat and must accept what is offered. She was aware of your presence this afternoon, and knew you would come tonight. I don't think I know what that means, but I trust you do.”

  “I do. Thank you.”

  They went to the elevator, and it smoothly rose several stories. “I thought sirens weren't telepathic.”

  “They aren't. But you have an aura.”

  “Ah.”

  The door panel opened on a large pleasant chamber with potted plants around the edges and a huge bay window overlooking the lake.

  A gorgeous woman in a not-quite-closed black robe stood in the center. She wore a feather headdress, and her lustrous black hair curled down around her body to her slender waist. “I am Siphon.”

  They paused, not approaching closer. “I am Neris, with Nerine.”

  “Brother and sister. How sweet.” Obviously she saw Nerine. “To what do I owe the dubious honor of this visit?” As if she didn't know.

  “I need your help crafting a bad dream.”

  Siphon laughed, and her splendid breasts bounced provocatively under the partial cover of the cloak. “And I need your blood. Shall we exchange?”

  “No. Will you help me voluntarily?”

  “No more than you will give me all your blood voluntarily.”

  “Why not? Crafting the dream would take only a few hours of your time. Then we would run it repeatedly. You would have no further involvement, and could go about your business in peace. It would help save the world.”

  “This is an erotic dream, of course.”

  “Yes.”

  “Neris, there are thousands of men who crave only a few hours of my erotic time. It might seem simple to oblige any one of them, but then there would be another, and another, until the whole of my time was taken up, and more would still be clamoring, demanding to know why they weren't chosen. This well is deep, a black hole. It is better to draw the line at the outset, and indulge only when I myself choose it, without regard to the preferences of others. So the answer is no. It's a matter of principle. If you want my participation, you will have to compel me.”

  “And you will have to compel me,” Neris said.

  “So the stakes are set. I am curious, however, about why you should put your life at such a risk, for such an ordinary task. Surely there are many others, far less dangerous than I, who could help you craft your dream.”

  “We have crafted other dreams. Nereids have assisted. They have not been sufficiently effective. I need a siren for this one. All sirens are dangerous. You are the closest one, and you are in heat, so can be compelled.”

  “Compelled to participate in your challenge, yes. That is not at all the same as your winning it.”

  “Now I am curious. Surely you could have summoned one or more of those men who desire your erotic time, and had easy prey. Why wait for me?”

  She smiled, and it was a marvelous thing to behold. “Ordinary mortal men are easy prey, true, and I have had a number. But their very mortality makes them imperfect. They are prone to maladies of the body and spirit. On a scale of ten, they are at sixes and sevens. I can't make a perfect parthenogenetic replica of myself out of imperfect material. So the effort is wasted, and I have to slowly digest the blood. You, in contrast, are a partial god, and your mortal component is clearly of good stock, well cared for. You are a virtually perfect young (very young) man. I can make a virtually perfect child from you. One who can carry on my line after the mortal part of me succumbs, as it must eventually.”

  Neris nodded. “You are making sense. I wish we could be lovers without doing battle.”

  “I almost wish the same. It does get a bit lonely as the centuries pass, and the companionship of a good man would be a comfort. But it seems this is not to be.”

  “Not to be,” he agreed with unfeigned regret, reminded of his situation with Hedva. Why were simple answers so complicated to achieve?

  “We have dallied in dialogue long enough,” Siphon said. “Shall we now have at it? Nerine can referee.”

  “Referee? This is not that type of encounter, and in any event she's partisan for me.”

  Siphon laughed again, and again her breasts flashed beckoningly. “That was humor, Neris. But if it were to be refereed, she would be incapable of cheating, regardless of partisanship. No nereid can lie or cheat. As it is, she can only watch.”

  Nerine nodded. She could not help him in this encounter. That might have been one reason she was wary of it.

  “Then let's have at it,” he agreed.

  “You are clothed. Better to strip, lest you be at a disadvantage.”

  She cared about fairness? “You are also clothed.”

  “Not so.” Her cloak twitched, and spread out behind her, revealing her full luscious body. Then it flexed, and she lifted into the air. The supposed cloak was a pair of wings! She had no arms as such; that had not been evident while the seeming cloak was in place. She was far less human than she had seemed, but no whit less attractive.

  Neris hastily doffed his clothing and stood naked. “Now.”

  “Not quite,” she said, settling back to the floor. “Your weapon must be drawn.”

  “My weapon?”

  She sang a single note. It seemed to take hold of his penis and charge it. Suddenly it was standing tall.

  “Lovely,” she said, eying it as she licked her lips. “And here is mine.” She put her wings down to her crotch and with their edges drew apart her labia, showing her open cleft. It looked completely human. The sight electrified him in a manner her breasts had not. He was abruptly desperate to get into it.

  “Don't be,” Nerine said. “That's the deadliest snatch you'll ever see.”

  “Also the most tempting,” he said.

  “You will have to initiate penetration; I can not grasp your member,” Siphon said. “That will be the final indication that you sought this union. No siren ever raped a man.”

  “Not with her body,” Nerine said tightly.

  “Signal the start, nereid,” Siphon told her.

  Nerine glanced at Neris, who nodded. He was ready. More than ready.

  “Engage,” Nerine said.

  They stalked slantingly toward each other, in a spiral pattern. Siphon held her wings slightly lifted and spread so that her full torso showed, her fine breasts quivering and her fine thighs flexing with each step. Neris hoped that his own presentation was impressing her as hers was impressing him, but he doubted it. This was a consummate sexual creature.

  “Come to me,” Siphon said, bucking her hips enough to fetch in his gaze. “My cleft is open and wet.”

  And his member was hot and hard. The two seemed to be drawn together of their own accord.

  He distrusted this. He drew back with an effort.

  “Don't withdraw,” Siphon said. “I'm in heat. I can't stand it.”

  As if he should care about causing her distress? He had every intention of doing it, but on his own initiative, not hers, so as to foster some sort of advantage. “I will engage in my own time and manner.”

  “You forget what you're up against.” Then she inhaled impressively, threw back her head, and sang.

  Neris was transfixed. He had for the moment forgotten that the chief weapon of a siren was her voice. But this was more than that. She was singing two notes simultaneously. Because of her double larynx. In fact, two melodies, point and counterpoint. It was eerily lovely, and phenomenally compelling. He lurched toward her before he could stop himself.

  Then he remembered his own ability. He inhaled, then sang. He had just one larynx, but his sound was enough to block hers, to an extent. He was able to stop his forward motion and stand in place. It was an impasse, for the moment.

  But already he was tiring. The two melodies were surrounding his one melody, and exerting their insidious pull on him. He was over-matched. He stepped forward again.

  And remembered something else. Songs were not just notes or melodies, they were harmonies. She was singing soprano and alto. So he sang tenor. This merged with her song, to an extent completing it and also nullifying it, because it was now his song as much as hers.

  Then she stepped into him. She looked faintly surprised; evidently she had not expected him to sing back effectively. He was attracting her as powerfully as she was attracting him. She had two larynxes, but she was also in heat, so was vulnerable. It was even. With the two of them operating at the same time, there was only one resolution: contact. As had been the case with the nereid, and with Rosie.

  Their torsos came together, her firm soft breasts pressing against his chest, his hard member against her belly. He realized with a faint surprise of his own that she was as tall and solid as he. Her wings came around to enclose him. He slipped his arms under their shoulder attachments and embraced her. Now they were as close together as they could be.

  Except for one thing. They were both singing at each other, their faces only inches apart. But there had to be a pause for a breath.

  “The nereid trained you well,” she murmured, catching him off-guard. Then she sang again.

  All he could do was sing himself, desperately countering her, and wait for the next breathing pause. When that came, he snapped his face to hers and kissed her hard on the mouth. That stopped the music.

  He thought she might bite him, but she didn’t. She kissed him back. It was orgasmically potent, mesmerizing him. No one had kissed him like this before. He had inadvertently jumped from the pan to the fire.

  Meanwhile his hands moved almost involuntarily down to her smooth buttocks, and he took evocative handfuls. She wriggled under his grasp so that his hands moved around their contours, actually giving him better grips. She lifted to her toes, her torso sliding provocatively up against his, her face rising so that her lips were above his. His member found room between her thighs, nudging her slick cleft. If illusion made it seem human, it didn't matter; it was phenomenally tempting. Then her body slowly descended, her breasts stroking his chest as they moved. She was really trying to arouse him, her whole body enhancing the kiss. He resisted, refusing to let passion overwhelm him, though he feared it was a losing effort. Then he felt his penis sliding into her. She had been maneuvering to get him into position! She had outsmarted him while still kissing him.

  He wrenched his head back, breaking the kiss. He tried to disengage his penis, but her vagina closed in tightly around it, holding it inside. He could not retreat there.

  But he wasn't done yet. He resumed his song, pounding his tenor into her face. She resumed hers, fending it off. Meanwhile her vagina was massaging his penis, provoking it to even greater hardness, inciting it to performance. Was he ready for that? He wasn't sure.

  He sang aversion at her. She rocked back as if struck, as in a manner she had been. But only her upper portion. Her groin still held his member captive, and the real battle was internal.

  Then she used her doubled larynx to better effect. One countered his aversion song, while the other pitched pure passion. His whole body responded, clutching her body to him, pushing his member more deeply into her. Her vagina squeezed him peristaltically, wave after wave of incitement, and developed a slight suction.

  The persuasion was too much; he could not resist further. His climax was coming up on him. He broke off the song. “Damn!” he muttered. “I'm coming.”

  “You fought well,” she said, her body not relenting its urgency. She kissed him again, and this time there was a pleasant numbness in his lips, spreading out through his face and head.

  Then his orgasm took him like a storm. The semen powered out through his tubing, distended his member, and burst into her cavity like an undamed river, pulse after pulse. There seemed to be a pint of it, though he knew that was an exaggeration of his sensing.

  “And a fine volume it is,” she said approvingly. “Now let me assimilate it, before I bleed you.”

  “Damn!” he muttered again. She had to breed him before she could bleed him; it was the siren's way. Her vagina remained tightly clamped around his penis, augmented by suction; there was no way he could get it out of her. Her kiss, also, had drugged him, making him unable to struggle to get free of her. He had lost.

  “You will not be uncomfortable,” she said. “Just relax and let it happen. Let's lie down for this stage.”

  Somehow they lay on the floor, still intimately connected.

  “I must say you put up a fine fight,” she said. “You are a worthy opponent. I like you, and hope that my daughter will partake of some of your qualities. I have not before birthed a three quarter goddess.”

  Three quarters because both of them were half gods, so there was no dilution, and the god aspect would be dominant.

  “Now it is time,” she said, and kissed him again. It was a kind of benediction.

  He braced himself for the brief pain of the cut as she punctured his penis to let out the blood. He knew that the blood would keep coming to it, no longer engorging it but flowing on into her body, making her pregnant in her fashion. He knew, but could not resist it, because the anesthetic in her last kiss suffused him, putting him to sleep.

  Then she froze. “What's this?”

  “What?” he asked sleepily.

  “You cunning knave! You tricked me!”

  “I did?” His mind was foggy.

  “Wake up, Neris. You have won.”

  “I what?”

  “You fed me the dominating elixir when I least expected it. While I thought I was sedating you, you were infusing me. And you've got me. I can't bleed you.”

  And he remembered: Rhea's gift. It had needed time to get into the siren's system and take over her volition. “Sorry about that.”

  “It happens,” she said with resignation. “I should have been more careful, but I was so much in heat I wasn't paying proper attention. You played me for a sucker, and I must say, well played. I never knew you had it in you. Now I am your creature. What do you want of me?”

  His mind was returning. “I suppose we should disengage.”

  She laughed, her body caressing his outside and inside. “Of course. Your will is mine.” She rolled him over so that she was on top, then lifted herself off him. Then she put her wings down to help him get to his feet. “It will take you a while to recover completely from the pacification, but don't be concerned; I am no longer any threat to you.”

  He stood unsteadily, noting incidentally that his penis was now limp, but undamaged. She had not quite reached the bleeding stage. “That's nice.”

  Siphon stepped back. “Nerine, maybe you should take over now.”

  “Yes,” Nerine agreed, coming to steady him.

  “Did I really win?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, exactly as planned. Now let's get you dressed.”

  He knew she wouldn't lie to him. He had won, thanks to the drug Rhea had blown into him. Maybe he had been supposed to forget about it, so as not to give away its threat. That ploy had worked. He let her dress him.

  Solution

  They both needed to rest after their combat, Neris to recover fully from the anesthetic, Siphon to get past her unsatisfied heat. The siren showed him to a neat, well appointed bedroom. “Do you wish me to join you for the night?”

  “You don't have to do that.”

  “I do if you wish it. But in fairness I must advise you that in my present state I will be trying to seduce you; I can't help it. The heat makes me want to breed.”

  “Despite the sex we had?”

  “I did not harvest your blood or start my pregnancy, therefore my urgency remains. Now my mind knows there will be no pregnancy, but my body doesn't know that, so still wants to try. Only frequent sex can briefly abate it, even though I know it will not be productive. I can't rest until the heat passes.”

  This was not a situation he had anticipated. “When will it pass?”

  “In a few more hours.”

  “Then you will have no further need for sex?”

  “Not until the next heat comes, in a year or so.”

  “If I tell you no, what then?”

  “I will leave you alone, and go to another room so my crying will not disturb your sleep.”