“Where are we going?” Breena asked what I was thinking. When I went to land with my father as a child, he had taken me and Zellia to his home away from the sea. I had no idea if it still existed, but if we were going to find food and a place to rest, that was going to be it.
“A place my father used to live,” I admitted, unsure if it had been a poor choice to utter the words.
“Your father?” Breena’s hand slipped from mine. “He’s human?”
“A hybrid. If he was fully human, I wouldn’t have my siren song, now would I?” I asked, ready to defend my father.
“I suppose not. Where is he now? Can he help us?” Hope spread across her face, as dangerous as an untameable fire.
My chest felt as if it was about to crack open and reveal my wounded heart as I said, “No, he can’t.”
“Well, why not? Is he back in the sea?”
Why can’t she let this go?
“He’s dead,” I said flatly before striding forward, leaving her and her gaping mouth behind.
“Sid—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted, desperately needing the conversation to change. I refocused on the woman carrying the shells, the sound they made as they rubbed against each other. I tuned out Breena as she apologized for pressing the matter.
At one point, this was my father’s home. This was where he grew up and where he might’ve imagined raising his children if he’d fallen in love with another woman, one not of the sea. I glanced around, letting my hardened vision fade so I could see his home as he had, the place he’d loved as much as the sea.
Barthoah.
CHAPTER SIX
NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS, FISH
Breena and I made our way up a set of wooden steps that led directly into the human village of Barthoah. I kept my eyes out for fishermen and a familiar trunk, but we had no luck just yet.
The thought of fishermen reminded me of what I was wearing. I ripped off my cap and snuck it into a bush as we passed by. My scalp screamed with relief as my blonde hair untwisted and fell down my back. I scratched the skin on my head, running my fingers through the strands of my still-damp hair.
I caught Breena staring, her eyes following my hair as it unraveled and skimmed the top of my butt. She reached up and removed her cap as well, discarding it in a bush much like I had. She manually untwisted her hair, damp curls springing loose. It had been my first time seeing it since this morning, and back then, I had far more concerns than her beauty, as evident as it was.
“Lock and Leather should be up this way,” I said, pointing to a cluster of stone buildings. It may have been a decade since being in Barthoah, but I would never forget the place we slept.I remember my first night on land as clear as day, the feeling of being heavy, weighed down under a pile of blankets.
“I know you said your father used to go to ‘Lock and Leather’, but what exactly is it?” Breena asked, not looking at me. Her gaze was focused ahead, taking in the buildings and the people walking in and out of them. She watched as a mother held her baby in front of a wooden cart, pointing at a stuffed creature made of wool.
“It’s a place to sleep and eat. We’ll be safe. We were always safe there.”
As we approached a familiar building, my heart leapt. The old stone building sandwiched between two shops looked just as it had the last time I had been there, albeit its door had a fresh coat of indigo stain now. At the time, it had been a leather shop, but now, the wooden sign hanging in the doorway read: “The Wooden Apothecary”.
“It’s still here,” I whispered under my breath, not concerned if Breena heard me or not. I opened the door to the building, and an older woman with a peg leg watering her plants offered us a soft smile. Breena stopped in her tracks to check out the hundreds of glass bottles lining the walls, but I pulled her by her forearm toward the back of the shop.
I pushed past the door with a sign tacked to it that read: “No Patrons”. If my dad’s place was still here, it would be right above this little shop. The place was a one bedroom for which he’d pay a percentage of the coin he’d earned from selling his glass pieces.
We ascended the groaning stairs and crossed the landing until we stood face to face with the door of my father’s home.
“This is the one.” Taking a deep breath, I turned the cool, copper knob.
Stuck.
I wiggled it again, with no luck. On the third time, I threw my body into it, and yet again, the door didn’t budge.
“Let me.” Breena placed her fingertips on the knob, and with a swift turn, the door clicked open. With a satisfied smile, she held out her hand to usher me inside.
Of course, she only used the tips of her fingers.
