Sound of Sirens: (Tales of Skylge #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

suggest, handing him the Phoenix album.
    “What a great idea.” He shoots me a lopsided little grin before turning around and pressing a button on the device underneath the turntable. “Have a seat,” he then says, gesturing at the sitting area.
    I pick the couch furthest away from the lazy chair, since I suspect he’s going to sit there. My hands feel clammy as I run them over the velvet of the cushions.
    When Royce walks over, he slides the LP sleeve across the coffee table and nods at it. “You can pick which side we listen to first.”
    “Oh.” I stare blankly at the sleeve, my eyes skimming all the song titles. Wow - I thought there were only two songs on the disc, as usual, but from the long list of titles I conclude that this record is chock-full of songs. Fourteen in total – seven on each side. That’s as many songs as I care to play in one afternoon before my arm starts to hurt from operating the crank. “Uhm... I want to hear Field of Night .”
    Royce brushes a strand of black hair from his forehead. “Okay, side A it is.” He smiles.
    I lean back into the couch cushions and fix my gaze on the strange devices instead of him. I’m afraid I’ll stare otherwise.
    He reaches out and presses a few buttons to start the music. The fragile arm is lifted and the record starts to spin slowly – much more slowly than I’m used to. And then, the first tones drift out of invisible speakers that seem to surround the entire sitting area.

6.
    M y heart stops.
    The sound is so clean. So smooth . Nothing like my scratchy record player. The piano music envelops me like sweet honey and a warm blanket, cascading over me like a gracious waterfall. The cello kicks in and then the woman starts to sing an evocative, melancholy song. I understand, even though the words don’t really make sense sometimes.
    We abandon the sinking ship of this reality. Let the sounds of the deep blue silent ocean take us where we are no more than ourselves.
    Sytse was right. She does sing like the Sirens. Her haunting voice resonates with me as though I’m listening to the Nixen singing of times long gone, echoing a deep and hungry longing.
    I bite my lip to stop myself from welling up. This is the most fragile and delicate song I’ve ever heard, and it seems to go on forever. Just this one song is longer than a regular 78-record.
    When I cautiously glance over at Royce, I notice that he’s closed his eyes. Like this, he looks as vulnerable as the song sounds. No wonder he was willing to mingle with Skylgers to listen to this LP – it‘s so much like the music he composes himself. And for the first time, I wonder where he draws his inspiration from. How does someone manage to create something this beautiful?
    When the song ends and segues into another, neither of us moves. Instead, we envelop ourselves with more sweet sounds of angelic voices, cello, and piano, filling the late hours of night. But inevitably, the record has to end at some point. After the tone arm clicks off automatically, we sit there in silence for quite a while.
    “Wow,” I finally say, but the word sounds flimsy and shallow. It makes me hate myself for breaking this reverent silence.
    Royce opens his eyes and shoots me a wan smile. “I know.” He takes a deep breath, then rushes on: “This is as close as I can get to listening to Siren song without going crazy, you know.”
    “Why would you willingly listen to the Nixen?” I say, taken aback.
    “Because they infuse me with a sense of...” He pauses, lost for words. “Wonder,” he then adds.
    I scoff. Wonder? Does this guy even understand how dangerous the merfolk is to people like me – inhabitants of coastal towns who can’t fight the Sadness any longer?
    “Some artists in my family used to seek them out,” Royce relates in a soft voice. “I did too, sometimes. Their song inspires me to write my own music. But it’s easy to get lost in the sound of Sirens. That is why we Currents have ways to raise