creeping opossums, even the men’s horses—nearby. But thisman might as well have been a tombstone for all the life she could sense in him.
“What’s your name, siren?” he asked in his slow, soft voice.
Cleoma hesitated. She was confused by the almost casual cordiality of his inflection. Maybe he would not hurt her. Maybe he just wanted to scare her and then he would let her go.
“Cleoma,” she answered.
“I’m Stacker, Stacker Lee,” he said. “See, Cleoma, when I was birthed, I had me a caul over my face. You know what that means?”
Cleoma shook her head, her lips clenched tight.
“It means I know things. I was born with a certain sight. Always been blessed with perceiving things, if you follow me. Take your intentions, for instance. You’re hoping to save someone.”
Cleoma tensed, and Stacker smiled.
“See? I was right. Let me tell you something else I know. I know that if I keep following this river up to a creek, I’ll find a man. I’ve never met this man. Don’t even know what he looks like. But I’ll know him when I find him, ’cause he’s the son of John Henry. There ain’t no mistaking that, is there? Did you, Cleoma, come from upstream?”
Cleoma looked from Stacker’s passive face to the razor at her gut. She nodded.
“And did you, Cleoma, encounter a man that could be John Henry’s son?”
Cleoma shook her head. For a moment, Cleoma wasuncertain whether Stacker had understood her or whether he knew she was lying. He held his blank stare for several terrible moments before his gaze relaxed.
“You know why I’m looking for this man, Cleoma?”
Cleoma tightened her lips as she shook her head again.
“This man, who is John Henry’s son, has his father’s Nine Pound Hammer, or so I’ve been told. If I can bring this hammer back to my employer, he will generously return something he never should have taken from me. I bet you’d never guess what he took. Want to guess?”
Cleoma’s breathing got quicker and she pulled experimentally at his grip. A dry smile curled at the corner of Stacker’s lips. “Not until I’ve finished my story, Cleoma. So you don’t want to guess? I’ll tell you. My employer took my heart. That’s right, my heart. I know what you’re thinking. That I don’t mean this in the literal sense, but, dear Cleoma, it will surprise you to know that when I say this man took my heart, I am not speaking poetically.”
At this, Stacker tapped the blunt end of the razor to his sternum. “Clockwork. That’s what I’ve got now—a chest full of clockwork.” An expression of sadness flickered in his eyes for a moment, but Cleoma did not know if it was for her or for himself.
“I want to be a man again. I want to be alive again. To feel things as a man should. I can have my heart back if I bring the Nine Pound Hammer to my employer.
“I’m telling you this, Cleoma, because I have heard about the waters of the siren springs. They can heal anything, can’t they? Well, if you know of such a place”—he brought therazor up and flicked his thumb gently across the edge—“or you were in possession of such waters, I would be most grateful. If it can rid me of this clockwork curse filling my chest … well, Cleoma, you would save me a further trip up this river. I wouldn’t have to find this son of John Henry, or his damned hammer. You could save me, Cleoma.”
Stacker waited, the cold expectant stare boring into her. Did the man know she had the waters, hidden in the reeds just at the river’s edge? No, he would not need to torment her if he did.
She could give him the waters—for he was right, the waters could cure him, as they cured any affliction except death—but then she would have to go back. The time spent swimming back to Élodie’s Spring might cost the lives of some of her sisters, and it might also bring harm to Jolie and the giant sleeping in the well. She knew she could not trust this Stacker Lee.
“Well, Cleoma?” Stacker said,
“What’s your name, siren?” he asked in his slow, soft voice.
Cleoma hesitated. She was confused by the almost casual cordiality of his inflection. Maybe he would not hurt her. Maybe he just wanted to scare her and then he would let her go.
“Cleoma,” she answered.
“I’m Stacker, Stacker Lee,” he said. “See, Cleoma, when I was birthed, I had me a caul over my face. You know what that means?”
Cleoma shook her head, her lips clenched tight.
“It means I know things. I was born with a certain sight. Always been blessed with perceiving things, if you follow me. Take your intentions, for instance. You’re hoping to save someone.”
Cleoma tensed, and Stacker smiled.
“See? I was right. Let me tell you something else I know. I know that if I keep following this river up to a creek, I’ll find a man. I’ve never met this man. Don’t even know what he looks like. But I’ll know him when I find him, ’cause he’s the son of John Henry. There ain’t no mistaking that, is there? Did you, Cleoma, come from upstream?”
Cleoma looked from Stacker’s passive face to the razor at her gut. She nodded.
“And did you, Cleoma, encounter a man that could be John Henry’s son?”
Cleoma shook her head. For a moment, Cleoma wasuncertain whether Stacker had understood her or whether he knew she was lying. He held his blank stare for several terrible moments before his gaze relaxed.
“You know why I’m looking for this man, Cleoma?”
Cleoma tightened her lips as she shook her head again.
“This man, who is John Henry’s son, has his father’s Nine Pound Hammer, or so I’ve been told. If I can bring this hammer back to my employer, he will generously return something he never should have taken from me. I bet you’d never guess what he took. Want to guess?”
Cleoma’s breathing got quicker and she pulled experimentally at his grip. A dry smile curled at the corner of Stacker’s lips. “Not until I’ve finished my story, Cleoma. So you don’t want to guess? I’ll tell you. My employer took my heart. That’s right, my heart. I know what you’re thinking. That I don’t mean this in the literal sense, but, dear Cleoma, it will surprise you to know that when I say this man took my heart, I am not speaking poetically.”
At this, Stacker tapped the blunt end of the razor to his sternum. “Clockwork. That’s what I’ve got now—a chest full of clockwork.” An expression of sadness flickered in his eyes for a moment, but Cleoma did not know if it was for her or for himself.
“I want to be a man again. I want to be alive again. To feel things as a man should. I can have my heart back if I bring the Nine Pound Hammer to my employer.
“I’m telling you this, Cleoma, because I have heard about the waters of the siren springs. They can heal anything, can’t they? Well, if you know of such a place”—he brought therazor up and flicked his thumb gently across the edge—“or you were in possession of such waters, I would be most grateful. If it can rid me of this clockwork curse filling my chest … well, Cleoma, you would save me a further trip up this river. I wouldn’t have to find this son of John Henry, or his damned hammer. You could save me, Cleoma.”
Stacker waited, the cold expectant stare boring into her. Did the man know she had the waters, hidden in the reeds just at the river’s edge? No, he would not need to torment her if he did.
She could give him the waters—for he was right, the waters could cure him, as they cured any affliction except death—but then she would have to go back. The time spent swimming back to Élodie’s Spring might cost the lives of some of her sisters, and it might also bring harm to Jolie and the giant sleeping in the well. She knew she could not trust this Stacker Lee.
“Well, Cleoma?” Stacker said,
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