Chapter Text
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There is no moral to your story, no happy or unhappy ending—no monody written or sung. Your life was taken away for nothing.
It was humiliating to be killed the way you had been. There is absolutely nothing you could say about that night—you did not fight, did not scream, did not even flinch. You were as good as a rock thrown into a lake.
It didn't hurt, not in the way it should have, but it humiliated your sense of existence as if your beating heart was a petty joke.
She had put you down like a dog before deciding to make you endure more than just the pain of death.
One of the memories that plagued your existence in many ways was the feeling of dying. The way life gradually, but impossibly fast, was snuffed away from your reach.
The way you felt your toes tingle and your fingers grow numb. The way your vision began to spot in splatters of black, and the way you couldn't even utter a sound out.
It was unfair in so many perspectives.
You never thought of yourself as a good person. Not now and not back then so many years ago. Unlike many, however, you don't spend your night dwelling on those facts. They don't bother you.
The world was selfish, you didn't think being the good person in it would change anything.
Not to say you have harmed someone on purpose, but to say that being nice had been taken away from you the same life had been. The same way your breaths were turning cold and weak, the same way your heart stuttered in agony, and the same way you felt your body fail you like a boat slowly sinking.
It was like crying in a void, reaching for a savior so close, yet so out of reach.
The next time you have ever been birthed, the next time you opened your eyes but your heart stayed silent, instead of feeling hopelessness and sorrow, you felt anger.
How could your life be stolen from you with a single bite? How could she think she could run her cold hands over your back as her teeth sunk in? How stupid was she to let you live at all and not be worried you'd come after her?
You guess, in a way, a normal person would be terrified.
You think you should have been.
You weren't. It was that lady's downfall to underestimate how you would react when the last thing you held close was snatched away.
And the years passed. You never grew, never changed. You became stronger but also weaker. You became the slave of your own body.
Or so you thought.
Rebirth hung over your head. You were no longer human. You can no longer stay wherever you please without raising suspicion. There was no place for you, and, in a way, you understood that. Understood why.
You were no fool, you are a victim of what one of your new kind had done.
But were they really the bigger monster here?
In some form or way, you have always believed the world to be an animosity, whatever kind they were—human or monster. You never wished to die, but still hoped for some sort of apocalypse to wipe out everything and get this mess over with.
It has always been like this, even way back when things in your life were normal. People die, people harm, people abuse, people manipulate and gaslight and then discard whatever tool they have broken. Those kinds deserve to rot, they deserve a payback for everything they have done and thought they would get away.
Perhaps not everyone deserves such death, perhaps only those kinds of monsters, the cruel and sadistic ones, but that meant wiping out more than half of the planet from how dominant their kind is.
There were just too many of them. They never seem to cease.
They remind you of rats.
You think they are better off somewhere far away from you, perhaps on another planet or killed off by some disease. Humans were always the monsters.
It did not matter, though—not anymore. Not when you found yourself unable to die with them after years and years have passed. A decade after a decade. You should have aged by now, should have grown into weak bones and wrinkled skin, with poor eyesight and buckling kneecaps.
But you hadn't. You knew you would not. It had been so long, the denial was gone.
You will live to see generation after generation of those people. To be fully aware of their ways and their behavior, to watch from afar as the kids grew into cruel people who roam the streets.
Your hunger grew too. The only thing changing in you.
Your tongue moved to run itself over your teeth, grazing the sharp points in your jaws. It would be impossible to ignore hunger for long, unfortunately, and you are forced to search.
Water dripped from your hair, locks of which sticking to your skin in a way you hated, and so, you sink down.
The salty water does nothing to make your eyes sting nor make your nose feel stuffed. Your lungs are long dead, there is no chance of drowning, but you still refrain from accidentally inhaling water. You have learned that the hard way years back when you got here—you can mimic breathing: you can sigh, inhale and exhale, but that was more out of habit than anything. Still, getting water where it doesn't belong hurt like a bitch, and you always stayed half-alert to not repeat the same mistake.
The glimmer of red from your eyes in the water is soothing, your sight easily able to see in the darkness of the depth, able to see the soft sand almost thirteen or so meters from where you were near the surface. Fish swam around you, and if you stayed still, they come and nurse at your cold skin. They sense you have no pulse, no body heat. They think you're dead.
You are more like the dead bodies the seas carry than anything else. And, in a way, you are.
Extending a hand, you let one small fish stray from its school and swim towards you. There is no dead skin for it to eat, unlike how humans do with certain fish to eat their feet's dead and chipping skin. Still, the fish gnaws on your finger with its little teeth, mouth gaping when it tastes such meat that is harder to harm than any human's skin is.
You grin. The little fish is too small to satiate your hunger. You will let the little fella swim another day alive.
The fish flinches away at the sight of your teeth, immediately swimming back to its pack of other fish as they follow the tides.
Breaching the surface, you manipulate your body to lay on your back and spread your arms and legs as if making a snow angel. The ocean is freezing at this distance and at this time of night, but you have no blood to freeze nor a temperature to keep steady. For you, the freezing water is just chilly, tickling almost, and you sigh at how heavenly it feels against your skin.
You don't sweat, nor does your body produce oils that will make you gross, but you still have a dislike to heat, even when it can never harm you.
The sun is hot, for instance, and that is enough reason to dislike it. Aside from the fact it will burn you, of course.
Hot baths are relaxing, but your muscles do not cramp nor tire out, so the word "relaxing" is just another old thought from your old life.
Sometimes you just enjoy the old things that you used to do.
Eating human food, for example, is one of them. Human food does not fuel you, and eating too much will make you throw it right back up, but your tongue sometimes longs for the tastes you used to love, even if now blood seems to taste better than anything else.
You are human no more. You haven't been for so long now. You almost miss it.
Almost.
But your life now is so much better. It is so much enjoyable. There are no more people who could harm you as they've done in the past, and nor can people harm you now as long as they keep their beliefs of myths being only myths. Populated areas are the most that do not believe in such beasts and legends, it was why you spent most of your life moving from one place to another in big cities.
After years and years and decades, this became tiring.
You had no friends. There were people who you knew briefly, who knew nothing about who you were or remember what you looked like, but those didn't count.
Friends do not last. Literally.
Humans die. You don't.
You will outlive them, see them getting older and weaker, and then attend their funeral. Not that you had a friend who actually knew you weren't a human, but you knew a few of your old friends who died. The friends you had in your old life.
They are no more.
Ah, well. Your ability to care has long since vanished. Being immortal does that to people, you guessed.
The stars are bright. In this part of the Earth, there are no big buildings that blind out the stars. The sky is as black as ink, clouds like cotton hovered over the moon. The air was fresh, free of the heavy stink cities had, and the isolated area made everything so quiet.
It was peaceful. There was rarely ever a human in sight.
That proves to be a little bit of a problem, however, when hunger begins to eat at you.
Shifting, you kick in the water to further push yourself out at sea, far away from the shore. The power you possessed was enough to let you swim like a bullet in the water.
You are hungry. You weren't out relaxing at sea for no reason. Not this time.
It has been almost four years since you bought this area from a shady guy, but that was all the better. The private area at the beach gave you a perfect hiding place for the next five years or so, or, at least, until someone realizes you are here and notices that you never age, your hair doesn't change (you trimmed it a month after you were turned and it grew back in the matter of an hour), and you barely go out at day. Huge red flags, in your opinion.
So far no one even knows about this area. It was closed off and so far away from anyone's reach.
Maybe you can stay here for longer than just a decade. You like the place, the sea, and the night sky. Not to mention the lack of people who bother you.
And livestock. Also known as the humans with boats. (And fish, you can drink their blood too.)
Unfortunately, after killing a few humans, hypnotizing them into "accidentally" throwing themselves to the water and right into your hands, you have earned yourself a few rumors.
The folks around here had their own myths and beliefs, very unlike those people living in big cities who are too bowed down to their phone screens to care. This wasn't in your favor, but the old people here didn't say anything about a vampire. Not anything you have heard from pretending to be another person in the area nor when you hid in the shades.
They believed in sirens. They believed in the charming half-fish creatures living in the sea far away, the ones with alluring voices to drag and sink ships.
If you were to be honest, you wouldn't put it past their existence. You have met harpies and werewolves (two of which were actually partners!), but you never met a siren before. You have swum in this area for so long now, but you saw nothing.
If sirens do exist, then they live far away from humans. Good for them.
Of course, with the rumors going around, there had been a few boats going out at night with weapons and sound-canceling earbuds, trying to find where this "siren" was. They found none.
If there was a siren around here then you would have known.
The stars glimmered up ahead, the cold water rushed against your diving suit. It was a quiet night.
You are lucky to be one of the kind who needed little blood to survive. The more blood the stronger you are, but you needed not to be strong, for which there is no enemy to face. No one knows of your existence, and those who do either forgot you even exist in the first place or don't know where you are. Those people are very few—either way, you had no enemies to worry your skin about.
And the enemies that you did have have long since died.
The disadvantage of being human, you mused.
If you caught no one around here then a big fish shall do to satiate your hunger for a few days. The blood in fish tastes a little bit funny, thinner than that of a human, but it is life substance and you are taking what you could.
Your fingers twitch. The water seemed to almost vibrate in a way that wasn't natural—
The silence is very rudely broken by the sudden yet distant noise of an engine.
You perk, head snapping in the direction of the noise.
In the far distance, just behind a few huge rocks lining up the sea, you identify the lights of a boat and the noise of its annoying engine.
Technically, you usually don't kill. Boats have loads of fish hung at the back and breached into the water so the fish don't die and go bad, and that is what you usually search for. You are not a siren, you can't hunt for fish the way a creature made for water could. You had your sharp teeth and claws and speed, but fish were smooth, and catching them sometimes is a hazard that leaves you feeling irritated.
Grabbing larger fish is easier, but that requires you to search for one.
Boats usually have said big fish. You just had to get your grubby hand on the net at the back and snatch one or two, and you would be satisfied.
If there was no fish...? Mostly you would return home to your fridge where meat and blood are stored, you are not desperate. But on other occasions, you would lure someone to the water, bite their arm, then use your claws to dig into their flesh until the mark of your teeth is gone and replaced by something close to a small shark's bite mark.
Another rumor that is going around. Sharks.
You are no saint. You do not kill because that would put you at risk, not because of a soft heart. You had to play it right.
The person you lured will be hypnotized by you into thinking it was just some fish they couldn't see. You make them believe it was their fault, make them believe they have dipped their arm in the water because they thought they saw something shining there.
A half-assed lie on your part, but you couldn't be bothered to think too deeply about it. People could be stupid sometimes, and you took advantage of that.
A grin stretches your mouth, tongue coming out to lick at your lips. Hunger is a disease that will never leave you be.
With a simple, experienced push of your legs, you dive back into the water as if you are the siren they all speak of. Your arms are at your side, your legs doing most of the work. Fish flinch away from your fast body like a spear in the water, speeding towards the boat before it gets closer to shore.
They better hope they have fish with them because you were getting hungry.
When you get closer, you slow down to not disturb the water more than you should, dimming the bloody red of your eyes till you can't be spotted. Your head breaches the surface, your hair flat against your head, but that is ignored at the promise of food.
Your feet kick gently in the water, taking on the sight of the boat. It is far bigger than you thought it was.
Actually, now that you took a better look at it without the excitement that seemed to have blinded you, you realize it isn't a fishing boat.
That boat—no, that ship is one of a kind. A kind you see sometimes, especially with the rumors of a siren going around.
Familiar enough, but uncommon.
You frown, looking at the faces of the team one by one. All of those who go out hunting come back angry for finding nothing, but those...
They look enthusiastic...
Most have a big smile on their faces, blabbering about something or another—at this distance, it was a little hard trying to understand the awful accent of the sailors—
You suddenly flinch, your body freezing as your mouth waters.
Blood.
The smell of blood is heavy, smacking against your nostrils with every push of the tides. It is thick and alluring, driving you insane with the urge to hunt for its source.
You do not try to stop the flash of red that glimmered in your eyes nor the sharpening of fangs because, the next moment, you dive underneath.
The water is cold against you. You feel like burning with the calling smell. The ocean is a clear color, if not a little dark even with your strong vision. There is a discoloration that swipes around you like dancing children, the red color of it disappearing into the endless sea.
The smell lingers. You are like a shark as you swim closer to the downside of the ship, not getting close in case the engine is located near. Your legs kick slowly, eyes trailing after the sifting red. The closer you are, the thicker it is. You lick your fangs once more, the hunger begins to fester inside of you the more and more thick the water becomes with blood.
The water is disturbed by vibration that does not belong to either nature or the engine. And, as you round the corner of the ship finally, you stop.
The haze of hunger is still there, but it is put to the side momentarily to address your confusion and surprise.
No wonder the sailors were so happy...
Your legs keep on kicking to keep up with the ship moving. Your eyes are trained on the squirming creature and all the blood that oozed from it in a concerning amount.
It doesn't notice you, despite your eyes shining in the dark ocean, too focused on trying to tear down the net it was trapped in. Every turn and tug cuts the blades of the net deeper into its skin, traumatic little wounds that grow more and more severe by the second. The 'fishing net' seems more of a metallic webbing with blades in every corner—a torturous trap that can kill easily.
The thing will not survive till they get it to shore.
It twists and turns with vigor, sure, but with the amount of blood there is, it will quickly die of blood loss.
And—oh, would you look at that...
A spear is lodged into its tail. No wonder they managed to catch it...
Black ebony scales make it blend perfectly with the deep sea, and the burning, blazing orange fins littered on every crook and cranny of its body made it a beautiful sight—or, from fish perspective, a sign of danger.
The thing is more than likely poisonous—the sharp spikes between each fin on its head just confirm your thoughts.
You tighten your jaw. Bloodlust gnaws on your very own bones, but you ignore it for the moment. Swimming a little bit closer, you tilt your head in the line of sight of the creature. A siren. Fuck... there is a siren in this area... or, perhaps, a faraway place, and the poor thing got dragged all the way here.
Sharp eyes, though dulled by blood loss and pain, snap to look at you. You see there a mixture of anger and fear and an endless desire for violence—
Black teeth, sharp like those of a chainsaw, open to reveal a mouth that glows exactly like every orange fin it has, and a low, resonating growl is sent your way. A warning to stay away, or a show of power that you will be torn apart at any moment given.
Good thing you are not human. Unless under certain circumstances, you don't die. This creature, on the other hand, could. It already is.
Perhaps it is far stronger than anyone would anticipate, you still have a huge disadvantage over it.
One of which is that it is still bleeding.
You open your lips and mouth a curse—bubbles would have formed if you could breathe. With a powerful kick of your legs, you break through the surface. The splashing noise is drowned out by the engine, working in your favor. Hooking claws over the wood, you haul yourself till your hands grab for the edge of the ship. Carefully, you peer over, searching for the closest member to you.
Over to the side, an old man stands watch, gazing at his fellow sailors. His cheeks flushed red from the cold. Expressions hardened, as if joy never visits him. Ah, how sad.
You lick your fangs for what feels like the millionth time this day. Rising a hand, you, very lightly, knock on the hard wood. Just a small sound to catch his attention.
That's all you need.
His head snaps towards you, his mouth opens in quiet surprise—"What a person is doing here?!" He might dramatically wonder—but before any noise comes out, your eyes flash a sharp red, and suddenly, the man's straight posture seems to go lax.
You had to feed. You will not be able to do much of anything with this hunger. With this weakness...
And so, you whisper... murmuring encouraging words towards the man, coaxing him away from the rest of the team. He follows without a complaint, with no hint he even sees ahead of him at all.
Until he is far away from sight, you give all you have of power left to whisper to him, "Come down here. Come on. You can do it. Ease down... do not make a noise. The water is safe..."
He does as told.
And when he is finally within water, within reach, you grip at his shoulder and sink him down. Bubbles form and rise to the surface as he opens his mouth in shock, the hypnosis fading away. You fill his vision, and excitement surges through you making you shiver.
It has been a while since you fully fed, especially on a human...
Your eyes shift to look at the siren still caught in the nasty trap, its eyes, two stars the color of flames that swim in black sclera, are trained on you. Wide and feral. Confused and afraid and angry and losing precious blood.
You think it can wait for a second until you finish your meal.
A sudden thought occurs to you. You'll have to kill humans this time...
Ah, well.
A grin stretches your face, glee filling your features. Your fangs sharpen, glinting, before you sink them into the exposed neck of the sailor. It breaks skin and the layers of fat and muscles, digging deeper easily. Blood fills your mouth and you let yourself get lost in the process—it is far sweeter than any nectar, than any pleasure, than anything you might get your hands on. It fills you with life, with strength, with joy.
You keep on going, unbothered by the struggling against you. The cold water is doing its job at immobilizing your prey, and the oxygen fleeting with its silent screams fastens the process.
It takes no time at all before you feel yourself have sucked the last drip of it, your body sizing in newfound power. Like you could finally breathe better, see better, live better. Every flex of muscle is far stronger than a human could imagine.
You raise your head, eyes closed to float in the sense of power.
Your claws come down on the man's neck to sever away the evidence of your attack. Destroying his muscles and veins and sinew until no being could tell there was a bite there.
Grabbing the dead man's clothes, you drag him closer to the engine's spinning fan. The blades were fast, threatening to drag you through it and saw you to pieces.
The sailor is simply put close enough to the spinning blades, and when you let go, he gets dragged under.
Bones and flesh tear, and the engine stutters. There is no more blood to ooze out of torn flesh, only chopped meat and broken bones and brain matter.
Ew. You try to not let any of that stuff get on you. You, like anyone else, do not like food to get on your clothes. Or, god forbid, in your hair.
You shudder.
The jerking ship makes its riders yell in alarm, screaming commands that you cannot hear underwater. The ship stops. You have to act quickly.
You swim upward again, energy coursing through your veins like electricity, fueling you till you feel like you could rule the whole world at your palms.
You lurch yourself like lightning over the ship, landing on the desk with grace. You are faced with many winding eyes. Your hair drips salty water down your chin, a hand comes to gently swipe that away from your eyes.
Someone yells a curse, a question hanging in the air with unbearable tension. "Gentlemen," you greet lightly.
Oh... the blood is like a drug to be addicted to. This power is unavoidable and filled with glory. It sparks in your body like fireworks.
Your eyes flash a small light, a glitter of bright red. All eyes are on you immediately, this time with a dazed look instead of being so on edge.
How you missed this feeling of being superior.
"Now, I have a question for you... how many are there of you on this boat?" You have to make sure no one is hiding somewhere. That will throw a huge wrench into your life.
You wouldn't want that.
The answer you are given is six. There are six sailors on this ship. You count five. The sixth one has drowned.
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, you inch backward until you are just beside the mechanism that holds the fish net in place.
"One of you, tell me how to unlock this. To open the fish net," you command with ease, watching as one opens his mouth with slurred, but clear instructions. Twist the lock from place, and then hold the handle if you want to ease the net more gently open.
You simply do the first part only.
The base of the metallic wiring tugs and moves with more vigor this time. The siren could do the rest of the work.
Your smile twitches as you think of a story to burn into the minds of the sailors. Ah... you have always been bad at this part...
"Now, listen carefully... everything that has happened tonight you will forget about. It didn't happen. What really happened is that you came back, not finding a siren, and your friend... he..." you spot a bottle of wine on the desk and lean to grab it. You open the lid and then throw the bottle into the hungry ocean. "He drank too much. Got dizzy and fell overboard. The fan blades caught him. He died. Now you will return sad at the loss of him, and decide to stop hunting nonexistent sirens."
The group of sailors almost drool with their mouths gaping open not unlike a fish. You take notice of the earplugs. Oh wow, they came prepared.
Regardless.
That was the best a story you could make at the moment, and you hoped it would be believable enough to not raise any suspicion.
You back away, hop on the railing, before jumping off into the water. The moment your eyes are out of sight, the sailors snap back to reality. You don't wait to see their reaction or what they might say to each other regarding what they now believe is the truth.
All that didn't matter right now. You have better things to attend to.
You sink slowly into the darkness of the sea, wishing to just stay that way for a bit, but a noise reminds you of why you did all that to begin with.
The darkness of the sea means nothing to you, and your sight cuts through it with ease. Sinking exactly like you are, but more out of force than relaxation, is the siren.
Helpless fool...
You would have hoped it would untangle itself and make a run for it. Never come back to these waters, and have the rumors die so you'd be safe once more. But oh, of course not.
A part of you, perhaps the cruel part that usually gets forced into anyone who becomes a vampire, whispers to just let it be. People die all the time. Sirens do too. You are no hero or savior. You are a loner wishing for a life that is calm and quiet, no people to bother you or a loved one to worry about.
You might have liked a friend at one point long ago, but those do not last. You might have befriended that harpy and werewolf couple, but you never visit nor talk to them. It was more like a mutual understanding that neither one of you is human.
But this...
This looks pathetic.
Pathetic enough to make you feel bad. Is that empathy you are feeling? Or is it pity? Did you save it simply for the purpose of your own safety—because you hate humans? Or did you because you felt sad?
If it died... its body would be pushed into shore where everyone would find it. The people will be brought proof that sirens exist, and more will go out hunting...
Your eyebrow twitches.
With a kick and a twist of your body, you swim towards the siren. Down, down you go, until you can fully see its expressions. Dull eyes look towards you, its mouth opens in a warning, perhaps. The net is open, but the blades have dug deep and curled around it, and with its weakened state, it will not be able to get out on its own.
Actually... even if it did get out, it wouldn't make it far, not with a damnable spear stuck into its tail.
Fucking hell...
You close the distance between you, your hands stretching to try and help it untangle, but it jerks away from you, mouth moving to try and bite at you. It is too slow and you are too fast; it misses greatly.
At that, you decide that you won't get far into helping it if it doesn't stop trying to take a chomp from you. So, you lean closer in case its vision is blurry with blood loss, open your mouth, and let out a hiss of your own. The act is to show your own inhumanity—to show the sharp teeth and the flashing red of your eyes.
You are more than sure it knows you are no human, but a reminder wouldn't hurt.
It works, you grin. The siren goes stiff, and you take that to your advantage, grabbing the metallic chain and tugging it away, maneuvering it over the being's shoulder, and avoiding the frills. Your strength at pushing and pulling at it is probably what is making it not attack, and you are glad (and, lightly, you bask under the ego boost).
Blazing orange pupils follow your every move, and it flinches and hisses every time you pull too hard. You simply give it a side eye to quiet down. There is no use being gentle at this moment, you just have to hurry.
The blades nick you multiple times but, unlike a living creature, you do not bleed. Your skin flares like a wet tissue before it starts to repair itself, an advantage to having a full body worth of blood. This certainly grabs the attention of the siren, and it makes it even more unlikely to bite you now.
You uncurl the net until it is fully off the siren, and the moment it realizes this, it immediately lurches itself away from you. It knows you are a threat, and it is in no condition to fight for itself. Fleeing is the best option.
However, that doesn't work with a spear still lodged deep into its tail, and the poor thing twists around in pain and fear. The inability to swim to safety dawning on it. Every movement aggravates the punctured wound, and more blood flows through.
It will keep moving like that till it bleeds to death, apparently. How very smart.
Though... you must forgive it. Blood loss does make everyone unable to think. You are surprised it hasn't fainted—actually... do sirens faint at all? They certainly are not just fish.
This siren is the first you have ever seen, so it is not like you had a chat with one before to know anything.
You groan, the noise vibrates around you. You are not done with this, are you?
The black siren has not made it far at all. It just keeps on sinking downward while twisting uselessly.
You scare it by suddenly appearing right behind it, its whole body sizing up in fright. So much for acting tough a moment ago, but it knows it has very slim chance of surviving, and that must be scary.
Your mind supplies you with flashes from decades ago. Of you pressed against a wall while your life is taken away right before your eyes—
Oh, how you fucking hate your mind, sometimes.
Your arms wrap around it, trapping it in a stronghold, and then you start to swim upward toward the surface and away from the ship. Your inhumanity makes it that easy.
The siren in your hold claws at your arms uselessly, and perhaps it knows that, but instincts are stronger when faced with death. For all it knows, it probably thinks you want to kill it too.
Well... you never tasted siren blood before... but that is aside from the problem at hand.
When you are far enough from the ship, you fully break through the surface, bringing the siren with you. You can feel it tremble in your arms, the heat you have felt when you first saw it has decreased alarmingly. The glow of its orange fins has dimmed significantly.
Your hands tighten around it. A warning, maybe. You aren't sure.
It more than likely can feel that you have no heartbeat. No body heat. Nothing.
You clear your throat, your face leaning against its head appendage. It is limp and cold, but you don't think you have seen it move before.
"Calm down... I mean you no harm," you start, hoping it can understand you. You cannot see its face from where you are behind it, but you see the petal-like fins that crowned its head twitch. It can hear, doesn't mean it can understand. "Can you even understand me? Should I speak gently and coo so you'd know I am no danger to you right now?"
You get no answer.
"Well... I got to take you home with me to get that spear out. I don't want you thinking I'm taking you to make you grilled meat." You are already swimming slowly backward towards where your house is. "I think you can breathe oxygen... if not then that is a problem..."
Silence meets your wondering. You frown at that.
The siren would probably fight you again if it sees where you are taking it, and that, while insignificant because of its state and your strength, would cause a problem.
"I wonder if I could hypnotize you to make this easier..." The weight you are dragging becomes suddenly heavier, and you pause. Twisting around, you peek at its face.
Well... that answers your earlier question. Sirens do faint. Noted.
Fainted, but not dead. You can hear its heartbeat and the blood that pulses in its neck arteries. It would have driven you insane if you weren't already full.
"That makes this easier for me," you shrug. With a powerful kick, you cut through the tides and towards your home.
Today will be long, but being a vampire makes you patient after living for decades.
This will not be a setback. You'll make sure of it.