"Sirena."

Cassie came awake at the beckoning call. She and Rafe had fallen asleep on the blanket on the lighthouse observation deck, her head using his warm, broad chest as a pillow.

She tried to ignore the call, preferring instead the sound of Rafe's rhythmic breathing, his steady heartbeat, and the pleasant sensations resulting from their naked bodies entwined.

"Sirena."

"Go away," she mumbled.

"Sirena."

Cassie carefully lifted her head from Rafe's chest, not wanting to wake him, pulled free, and stood. It was so dark, a complete absence of light. She had no idea what time it was. She shuffled toward where she thought the deck railing would be and eventually bumped into it. Grasping the rail with both hands, she peered out into the Gulf.

The pupils of her eyes expanded to their extreme limit, pushing aside her golden-brown irises, completely blackening her orbs, soaking in the faintest possible ambient illumination.

Beneath the surface of the water, several species of bioluminescent flora cast enough of a green glow for her to discover what had happened. Lights from the moon, stars, and mainland all were obscured, shrouded by an all encompassing fog.

"Sirena."

She felt compelled to answer the urgent call.

Rafe would panic if he woke and couldn't find her. He might think she had fallen over the rail. She didn't want to cause him distress.

He was already asleep. Rationalizing that it wouldn't be the same as putting him to sleep, Cassie knelt at his side, She stroked his face and spent a few minutes singing him into a deeper sleep so he would not easily awaken until she returned.

Guilt and shame flooded her. She murmured, "Oh, Rafe, I asked you to bring me here under false pretenses. I frustrated your advances. I spoiled our romantic date. Now, I'm rationalizing the use of my gifts on you. How low can I go?" She wiped away tears. "I'm no good for you, but I don't want to lose you either."

"Sirena."

Cassie pulled herself together. Clothing would prove useless after she transformed, so she left them behind. Holding on to the handrail, she made her way down the spiral stairs to the bottom of the lighthouse and exited.

The sound of waves breaking against the sand guided her through the darkness to the water's edge. The sea washed over the top of her feet. She trundled into the waves and felt her spine crackle as it transformed, fins pushing through her back and crown, the tail growing from the far reaches of her backbone.

Her hands and feet became webbed and talons extended. Moments later, her sleek body darted beneath the surface into deep water, following the pressing call.

*    *    *

First Mate Eduardo Maldonado aboard the party boat, Wild Irish Rose, sympathized with his skipper, Teresa Watson. Tonight's voyage had proven to be the very definition of a charter from hell.

Chuck Farley, U.S. Senator from Florida, occasionally lavished his most generous campaign  donors with a sunset cruise complete with free open bar, snacks, and a roving Mariachi band. His parties had always been among the company's most lucrative bookings, and they went out of their way to keep the senator's business.

Maldonado suspected after tonight, Senator Farley would choose one of their competitors for his future outings. Despite assurances from the weather service promising a glorious sunset, the weather turned out to be a bust.

When they left Tampa Bay at five for what was supposed to be a six-hour cruise, the sky had been clear and sunny. As they entered the Gulf of Mexico, haze began to filter out the sun. By the time they pulled even with Clearwater, skies were completely overcast.

Seas were calm, so Captain Watson maintained her heading. The plan was to cruise north, parallel to the coast until reaching New Port Richey where they would come about and return to Tampa around eleven.

The uncooperative sun turned out to be the least of their disasters. Among the fifty-two guests and crew aboard the yacht, a dozen had fallen sick from what Maldonado suspected was spoiled shrimp cocktail. The leader of the Mariachi band got into a fist fight with a drunken, rowdy guest who had broken the man's nose and smashed his guitar.

After sunset, the thickest fog Maldonado ever experienced during his twelve years at sea had rolled in. To make matters worse, the ship's batteries shorted, taking out the entire electrical system and disabling navigation and communications, rendering them completely blind and unable to call the Coast Guard for help. They were too far from shore to use cell phones, and there wasn't a satellite phone aboard.

The skipper slowed the yacht to five knots and was using her compass and dead reckoning to try and make their way to the closest port which happened to be at Tarpon Springs.

The surly senator had berated Captain Watson in front of several guests which angered Maldonado. Their misfortune hadn't been his skipper's fault. He had stepped between Senator Farley and his skipper, but she had ordered him to stand down and took the brunt of the senator's verbal abuse.

Tempers calmed shortly thereafter until half past midnight. That's when the booze ran out and some of the rowdy guests became ugly. Fearing for the senator's safety, his two security guards shuttled him to the bridge and ordered the captain to lock the door.

Maldonado checked the time, quarter past two in the morning. He hunched over a chart next to his captain. Senator Farley, who by this time had too much to drink, had fallen asleep in the captain's chair, his two guards sitting at each side of the door. They were watching but remained silent.

Sticking the point of her compass into the chart, Captain Watson muttered, "Our last known position prior to the outage was here. I immediately slowed to five knots and maintained a south-south-east heading which should currently put us here." She drew an arc with the compass and marked the location.

Casting a glance at the two security guards, she lowered her tone. "Mister Maldonado, it's been a long time since I've used dead reckoning and need a second opinion. Do you concur with my chart plot?"

He double checked what she had done and felt a bead of perspiration trail from his arm pit. "You're trying to squeeze this vessel between Anclote Key and the mainland, a gap of only two miles. It's like threading a sewing needle in the dark." He changed to a whisper. "If you're off by just a degree or two you could ground us and tear open the hull. We'll sink."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I assume full responsibility for what may or may not happen. All I'm asking is your professional opinion as my first mate."

It was nice of her to say what she did, but they both knew his career was also tied to the fate of the vessel. "I find nothing wrong with your calculations and recommend proceeding."

"Thank you. I'm eager to end this nightmare. Let's increase to ten knots."

"Aye, aye," he said but thought increasing their speed was reckless.

Maldonado picked up his binoculars and peered ahead hoping to see lights from anywhere along the shore. He glanced at the skipper. "That's an eerie tune you're humming. It's giving me the shivers."

"Mister Maldonado, I don't know what you're talking about."

Both security guards stood and gawked around. One of them, the older of the two asked, "Where's it coming from?"

The younger guard covered his ears. "It's inside my head!"

The older guard pointed forward. "It's coming from out there."

Maldonado shook his head. "That's not possible."

"What are you all going on about?" Captain Watson asked. "I hear nothing."

"Stay with the senator," the senior guard said to his younger companion, "I'll go have a look."

"I'm coming too." Maldonado unlocked the door and the two men stepped out. He relocked the door to secure the bridge. As they made their way to the foredeck, Maldonado encountered male passengers standing around the rails looking into the water. He didn't see a single woman passenger among them.

"What phenomenon is this that enthralls only men?" he mumbled.

When they got to the foredeck, he turned on a handheld torch that ran off a car battery. Despite its high lumen output, the light penetrated the fog to only about thirty feet dead ahead.

The mesmerizing singing went on, and he heard a splash. Maldonado redirected his beam toward the noise.

The senator's security guard grabbed his arm. "What the hell is that?"

The beam illuminated a manatee swimming ahead of them, matching the yacht's speed and heading. He rubbed his eyes, disbelieving. Not a manatee. A naked young woman!

Question - Have you ever seen a siren or mermaid or know of anyone who claims to have seen one? While researching this story, I found reports of sober, responsible people who claim they have! Investigators claim these people are confusing dolphins and manatees as mermaids. Makes one wonder, though, doesn't it?

Top photo credit: Phuketian.S http://www.flickr.com/photos/124790945@N06/38171648095 via photopin.com Creativecommons.org license