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The Sirens

Book by Emilia Hart · 14 quotes · Mermaid, Mermaids, Colors

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The Sirens Quotes

“There's a self-portrait, her sister's face rendered in aqueous greens and blues. The shimmering surface of a pool, bright turrets of coral visible beneath. So she's familiar with the lush application of paint, the galaxies of color. But this? This is different. The painting is enormous, almost as big as the wall behind it. Her sister has painted two female figures, their backs turned on the viewer as they wade into a raging sea. The brushstrokes are frenzied, lavish, and Jess has done something to make their skin gleam, as if it's lifting from the canvas. Lucy feels sure that if she were to reach out and touch the girls' hair--- pale, like her own--- she would feel each whorl, each strand under her fingertips. Both girls are nude, their legs swallowed by furious splatters of paint. Blue green, purple, black, foamy white.”

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“Voices. Women's voices, like in the old ghost stories. But they weren't screaming, crying as they drowned--- they were singing. This beautiful, lilting music--- I couldn't make out the words but I remember it sounded almost like a folk song. It comforted me, made me feel safe, somehow. It was different for Danny. His whole body froze. I could smell the fear coming off him. But there was something else, too. A kind of... desire." Lucy thinks, but doesn't say, how intertwined those things are. Fear and desire. How one can become the other so easily. All it takes is the tightening of a hand on your wrist, your throat.”

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“When Robert drew a human face he felt as if he'd pinned a butterfly for study. As if he'd taken something that flickered with life and beauty and killed it. He would not do that to her. And so instead he decided to draw something else to remind him, secretly, of her. Something that recalled the lustrous spread of her fins, the quivering spines. Something that was beautiful and vicious all at once. A lionfish.”

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“The State Library of NSW rises in front of her, a sandstone behemoth. With its sweeping entrance and ionic columns, it brings to mind an ancient temple, erected to honor the gods. Inside the foyer, the atmosphere is suitably reverent. The spines of countless books glimmer from the shelves, catching the sun that pours in from the skylight. She breathes in the smell of dust and old paper, draws strength from it.”

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“And then the sea, bright and unreal as a painting. She's never seen so many shades of blue" gleaming turquoise near the breakers; further out, a blue so dark it's almost black. Lucy shivers, thinking of the world beneath the spangled waves. The coastline curves around, so that she can see the cliffs on the other side of the bay, honeycombed with caves. Devil's Lookout. It's the same view she's seen already, on Jess's postcard, but the photographer hadn't quite captured the eeriness of the cliff face. In person, the caves look deeper and darker; one in particular, closest to the waterline, is large enough that she can almost imagine a demon lurking there, surveying the sea below. A prickle starts at the base of Lucy's spine. Maybe it's the knowledge of what the water would do to her skin. She imagines the waves lapping at her like tongues, stripping her of flesh until she is nothing but bone, gleaming white. Or perhaps it's the podcast; the thought of all those missing men, presumed drowned. But with the prickling fear there's a strange pull, too. Lucy struggles to tear her gaze from the bright waves, mesmerized by the way they curl over the shore. A part of her wants to get closer, to feel spindrift on her face, slick rock beneath her palms.”

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