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Bog gave a cocky smirk.
“Ye’ve picked the wrong prey, beast.” He said. “Your tricks have no effect on me.”
He slid the left half of his shirt open just enough to display his scar.
“I thought the lot of ye had learned that by now.”
The siren’s wicked grin, however, did not waver at his remark. Its jet black eyes were filled with malice.
“Oh…I know you, Pirate King…” It sneered. Its grin grew into a wide, toothy smile, displaying rows of sharp teeth. It leaned towards him.
Bog leaned back away from it. He winced. What…what was happening? Why did everything suddenly seem out of focus?
“But I think you’ll find…” the siren said, its words seeming to echo in his ears. “You’re not as heartless as you once were…”
Bog shook his head. He couldn’t see right. Finally his eyes managed to focus back on its face.
Bog felt a thrill of horror.
It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible!
“Marianne.” He croaked, before he could stop himself.
The siren smiled back at him with Marianne’s face.
No no no! he told himself. It isn’t! It’s a trick! It isn’t her!
But why was it her face? Why was it anyone’s? Siren magic had never worked on him before, why now? And why her?
“I know what you want, Captain.” She—IT—cooed.
That voice, her voice, drowned out all other sound. The crashing of waves and the calling of gulls faded into silence until have he could hear was his own panting breaths and that voice.
He leaned further back as the siren pulled toward him.
He had to keep her-it-at a distance. Its powers grew stronger with proximity and especially with touch. He had to stay away…had to…had to…
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even feel his legs anymore. The siren reached out to him and he held his breath. Her hand stroked his scar and he gasped as a throb of pain shot through his chest. For a split second, he felt he could almost hear a long forgotten drumming in his ears.
“I know what your heart wanted…”she whispered.
Bog’s mind was flooded with memories, flashing before his eyes as if they were more real than the world around him. Small smiles, accidental touches, glances held for just a moment too long.
All his memories of Marianne.
The siren pulled him closer and he found he could not fight her embrace. She pressed her head to his chest.
“You wanted her.”
Bog’s breaths were coming in ragged gasps. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. He didn’t want her. Some…some bratty princess? It couldn’t be…be…
The memories started to twist and change. This…this wasn’t how it had happened…He’d…he’d left. Gone back to the upper deck. They hadn’t drawn close like this, her skin warm against his own. He hadn’t heard her breath hitch as she looked into his eyes.
Nonono…it was a lie. He tried to rally his wits and fight back but he couldn’t seem to muster up the emotion behind it. Nothing felt real. It was like a dream.
He felt hands reach up underneath his shirt but his mind could no longer differentiate between cold, scaly claws and the warm, soft hands of this memory that was not a memory. He couldn’t see anything anymore. His real body felt so far away. So insignificant.
“You want…me…” Marianne whispered.
There were lips at Bog’s throat and fingers tracing his spine and, in a moment of horrifying clarity, he realized he did. He did want her. He had for a long time, but he’d just been too blind to see it.
These memories, they weren’t the siren’s creation, they were his. These were all the paths he’d wanted these moments to follow, but could never admit it, even to himself.
Hands cupped his face and he felt himself stumble forward. His hands caught what must have been the side of the ship, but he couldn’t hold on. The last of the feeling in his body drained away from the real world. He could see or sense nothing but this fantasy. The warmth of a summer afternoon. The soft light of a lantern illuminating the dark of the lower level.
Her hands on his face. Her deep brown eyes gazing into his own.
“You want this…” She said.
“Marianne…” Bog said, his voice a strangled whisper.
Oh God, he knew if they kissed there was no hope for him. He would die, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care.
Her face drew close to his and his lips parted—
Suddenly something grabbed him by the back of his collar and yanked him roughly backwards.
The illusion shattered and Bog’s vision went black. He felt like he’d been doused in ice water and fell back and hit the ground hard. His mind was swimming. Everything was too much too fast. He could hear noises but couldn’t decipher any of it.
Someone was yelling.
“..g! …bog!”
“BOG!”
Bog’s eyes shot open and he gasped desperately for breath. He saw her face close to his.
He hissed and kicked out his leg.
“Back, ye foul thing! Don’t touch me!” He cried, scrambling to sit upright. “I’ve enough of your damn tricks!”
“What in the hell is wrong with you?!” Marianne demanded, dodging his kick. “Some thanks I get for saving your life!”
Bog blinked.
“Marianne?” he asked. “It’s…it’s really you?”
“Of course it’s really me!” she said. “Who else would I be?”
Bog suddenly remembered that sirens couldn’t actually change their forms, it was all illusion. Marianne wouldn’t have been able to see what it had looked like to him.
He didn’t answer her, looking around to get his bearings. The deck was splashed with blood but there was no sign of the siren.
“Where…” Bog began.
“Got away.” Marianne answered before he could finish his question. “I slashed it pretty deep, though. It won’t be back.”
Bog sighed in relief and let himself lie back on the deck, still panting. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing.
“Oh my God!” Marianne exclaimed. “Your chest! What happened?!”
“Nothing.” Bog said, opening his eyes again. “Just an old—“ he cut off abruptly as he looked at his chest. “WHAT THE?!” he cried.
His scar, decades old, was bright red and raw looking, as if it were brand new. He pulled his shirt further down to get a better look.
“What is this?” Marianne asked. Her fingers brushed against the scar and Bog let out a loud yelp.
“AHH!” he cried and clutched at his chest. It was as though her touch had been a bolt of lightning, sending a shock through his whole body.
He sucked in a hissing breath as he felt a slow, painful, but unmistakable thump of a single heartbeat.
“What…what’s happening?” he gasped.
“I’m the one who should be asking that!” Marianne exclaimed. She looked white as a sheet and Bog thought he could hear genuine concern in her voice, but he pushed the thought away. No more of that siren nonsense.
Bog grimaced and pulled his shirt closed, hastily buttoning it back up.
“Rally the crew.” He said. “I need to visit someone.”