Port Haven Sirens Novels & Stories

I cried, resting my lips on his cheeks in an attempt to lessen the pain he was going through given his loud groans and the sweat forming on his forehead. The Siren's Song, lethal to anyone unfortunate enough to hear it, is the reason why sirens are as intimidating as they are rumored to be. Undefeatable and inescapable. Written about in the archives of military war plans concocted over the centuries, never been used in the past 500 years. Forbidden magic, only used as a defense to deter persons from a fight, is never meant to be practiced. Yet here I am, killing my only source of happiness left in this world of desertion and betrayal.

He moved his pawn as he spoke. "I think you might be the first person to call me good." I admitted. "I guess compared to most other sirens you're more of a saint." He laughed, and I knew he was right. Some of these sirens pulled in the darkness in our beast. They stuck to the ancient ways of luring humans into the ocean, drowning them, and then feasting on their bodies. That's what we had seen on the shore that day. My father was there, but only to make sure that they weren't caught or recorded. He doesn't participate in those huntings.

Hot and windy afternoon. Andaman Port was busy. Standford Universe-3 is approaching Jetty No.4. Russian captain Siemens is instructed by walkie-talkie to prepare for mooring. The ship approaches the jetty. Gangway fixed. It's just past noon. The Captain, chief mate, and chief engineer is very busy on the bridge. Admin Tajuddin prepares the personnel list of who wants to go shopping. On this ship, there is a chance to go shopping for a day or a night while approaching the harbor.

“Fair.” The phone buzzed again. Pal — 4:58 a.m. Tell your old man to get to the marina. Now. A photo followed. Grainy, real, awful. A slab of twisted hull beached on the rocks like a dead whale. Paint scoured. Rust bleeding. Four letters visible under the scrape. SIRE— His stomach emptied itself into his throat. He shoved the phone at Rachel. She flinched like she’d touched a live wire. “Oh my God. Con.”

It was forged from the melted-down armor of the elite enforcers and the shattered hull of the Emperor’s flagship. But I was not the one who was going to ignite it. "Send the signal to the docks," I told Elara. "The center has arrived." A massive, resonant horn blew from the deep-water harbor. It wasn't the violent, mechanical shriek of the old empire. It was a deep, chest-rattling note that harmonized perfectly with the ambient hum of the city's steam pipes. Gliding into the harbor was a ship with a brilliant, glowing silver sail.

Penny widened her eyes and nodded her head down towards Thea’s crotch. “Yep,” Thea answered dryly. She held up three fingers and mouthed “three times” at Penny. Penny frowned, “Bellamy, do you know what we are?” she asked brazenly. Thea slapped her leg, “Hey, if he knows, we can just kill him, he should already be dead anyway!” Penny shouted. Thea dropped her head into her hands and sighed. “Yea, you’re sirens,” Bellamy answered nonchalantly. “I knew as soon as Thea bumped in to me yesterday and I knew about you when you tried coming on to me in the kitchen.”

"I want to look at them." He held her gaze for a moment. "We go together," he said. "Yes," she said. They left at eleven. The harbor at night was a different world. Loud and working and lit by the kind of industrial lights that made everything look slightly unreal. Cranes moving. Forklifts. The smell of salt water and diesel and something metallic she could never identify but always associated with ports. Their vessel was at berth seven. She could see the name from the road. Romano-De Luca Maritime.

Bass Wave Port was the largest seaport in Bassburgh, and it also had the most magnificent night view—that was why it was called the Night Pearl of Bassburgh. There were complexes of prosperous skyscrapers on both sides of the wide bay. During the day, the whole location would be lying under a vast blue sky, which was then embellished with white clouds and the clear ocean. Small boats and giant ships entered and left the harbor every single day. While at night, it would become a place that had a splendid night scene and bright shimmering lights. Maisie parked her car at the port, and as soon as she got off the car, she saw Barbara and Ryleigh both standing on a sightseeing cruise ship berthed

Standing in the rusted skeleton of a dry dock was a familiar silhouette. Siren. She wasn't wearing her silver-fox silks. She was clad in greasy overalls, her cybernetic eye covered by a thick leather patch. Beside her sat a "Skimmer"—a low-profile, flat-bottomed boat powered by a manual diesel engine, an ancient beast of iron that emitted no digital signature. "You're late, Thorne," Siren rasped, her voice barely audible over the lapping water. "I had to bypass three automated patrol buoys to get this bucket here. The Circle is tightening. They’re starting to pulse the water with sonar every twenty minutes."

The massive, house-sized links of the iron chain succumbed to gravity, crashing down into the depths of the ocean and clearing the harbor entrance. "The door is open!" Vane cheered. Tristan didn't celebrate. He grabbed his comms. "Thorne! The Gate is down! Bring the fleet in! Full broadsides on the coastal batteries!" "Copy that, Viper!" King Thorne’s boisterous voice roared through the earpiece. "The phantom becomes flesh! We are moving in!" In the distance, the black horizon suddenly lit up with the muzzle flashes of fifty pirate ships dropping their stealth cloaks and opening fire. The siege of the Iron-Port had begun.