Siren's Curse Page 2

  An image forms in my mind and I wait while the details slide into place. A cash register, a counter faded from years’ worth of use, and the scent of donuts in the air. I lick my lips and open my eyes. “You might want to stop by Dory’s on the way home. Just a hunch.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” She gives me a happy smile. “You ought to sell that talent of yours. You could be living the high life, rather than stuffing yourself away in this dusty old place.”

  “I like my bookstore,” I say mildly. It’s the truth, more or less. I’ve settled into owning this place, and I don’t hate it. That’s enough for me.

  “You’re too young for this town.” She waves a weathered hand at me before I can speak. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I love this place. But every summer, I expect some gorgeous tourist to tempt you away, and every summer it doesn’t happen.”

  There have been tourists. Not many, but some nights the loneliness gets too much to bear and I wander into one of the local watering holes and allow someone there to seduce me. I still haven’t decided if it’s a form of self-care or penance, but I’m not likely to stop anytime soon. Sex is a need just like food or sleep or air. Just because I don’t need it as often doesn’t mean the desire to indulge ceases to exist.

  But I’m not about to divulge that truth to Pen. She won’t understand. Pen met the love of her life and spent decades building a life with him. To her, it’s just a matter of finding the right person and following a similar path. There’s no room in her story for merfolk who’ve been cursed or a larger paranormal threat bearing down on all of us. I won’t be the one to break that spell. Not for her. Not today.

  I smile and sip my tea. “Maybe someday.”

  “Maybe someday,” she mocks, but not unkindly. “Lorelei, you’re too young to already have one foot in the grave.”

  Thunder rumbles in the distance and, despite myself, I shiver. Even sheltered in the bookstore, I can taste the hint of danger on the wind. Something’s coming, it whispers. I could spend the next hour convincing myself that it’s all in my head, but I’m not just putting myself at risk by ignoring the possibility that it’s real. I finish my tea and push to my feet. “Let me call that grandson of yours. If you wait much longer to head home, you’re going to end up soaked and catch a chill.”

  Pen watches me with clear blue eyes. “Have him stop at Dory’s on the way.”

  After Pen leaves, there’s no point in sticking around. The skies open, sending the rain howling down upon us. I lock my door and lean back against it as a particular brutal gust nearly takes me off my feet. The streets are all but deserted, the locals battening down the hatches and huddled inside to wait out the worst of it. There are a couple tourists farther down, but if they’re not smart enough to seek shelter, they’re not my problem.

  Technically, no one in Trinidad is my problem.

  I start for home, the wind and water turning my hair into blond snakes that whip around my head. Less than a quarter mile to my house and it might as well be on the moon. I pull my jacket tighter around my body and pick up my pace. Each harsh breath makes my chest ache, reminding me about the way this morning started.

  I shouldn’t be alive.

  There’s no other way to say it. When I closed my eyes, parted my lips, and inhaled… I made my choice. That I hadn’t died. That I woke up on the beach… Someone put me there, though I can’t begin to guess their purpose.

  Lorelei.

  I jump and spin in a circle, searching for the source of the voice. There’s no one in sight. There isn’t even a single pair of headlights on the road. Just the trees whipping back and forth in front of me and the beach at my back. I turn slowly to face the beach—the water—and squint into the driving rain. No part of me is dry at this point, so I might as well investigate.

  Lorelei.

  There it is again, barely more than a whisper on the wind. Calling me back to the water.

  I take a step before what’s left of my self-preservation kicks in. “No.” I don’t mean to say the word aloud, but it settles something inside me. I am not some weak-willed creature to be drawn in by curiosity. Whatever has the power to reach me here on dry land is something I want no part of. “Get the fuck out of my head.” That’s where I must be hearing him. There’s no way he’s actually speaking to me on the wind.

  Whoever he is.

  I have something you want.

  I freeze. The faintest tugging in my stomach dials it up a notch. It never really goes away, even when I’m sequestered in the bookstore and surrounded by earth instead of sea. That tug tells me the exact direction my necklace—my powers—lay. I never get more than a hint of water that’s such a dark blue, it might as well be black, or an intense pressure that conveys exactly how far from the surface my necklace is kept. Too deep for humans and their machines.

  Too deep for me.

  I start for the beach before I can think better of it. For over two years, I’ve been missing a vital piece of myself, walking around as only half of a whole. I might not be completely helpless in my current state, but I’m easy pickings for any supernatural creature who decides to gun for me. Last night more than proved that the sea will take me, one way or another

  It might as well be on my terms.

  Lightning flashes, bright enough that spots dance over my vision for the several seconds of silence before thunder rattles my bones. The storm isn’t directly overhead yet, but it will be soon. I’m a damn fool if I’m still out by that point.

  I yank off my boots and socks and toss them onto the beach just out of reach of the waves coming faster and faster. One step, maybe two, and I’ll be submerged up to my ankles. My finding power will spiral out of me, instinctively seeking the one item I want more than anything in this goddamn world.

  Not my sisters.

  Not even the portal home.

  No, what I want more than anything is to be whole again.

  I should just turn around and go home. Whoever this voice belongs to, they mean nothing good for me. There’s a proper way to reach out, and it’s not by drawing a finless one of the merfolk into the ocean and nearly drowning her human body. Stepping into the ocean will boost what little magic I have left, and it will create a clear channel for him to speak to me.

  I take that first step, and then the second. My power streaks out into the deep and then rebounds, slamming me with a vision of my necklace. It’s different than it’s been in the past. Barely any pressure to speak of. Blue-gray water that stretches for miles and miles and miles around without encountering land. A vaguely fishy taste on my tongue.

  Tentacles.

  And then his voice is in my head, curling through me in a way that’s just shy of being invasive. Hello, pretty.

  Telepathy isn’t one of my skills, but apparently his is so strong that it allows me to fire off a reply. Tell me what you want and get out of my head.

  His chuckle is pure predator. More like I have something you want.

  Surely not. The Deep Dwellers, sworn enemy to my people, wouldn’t be so foolish as to lose a coup like my necklace. In the endless history of wars between our kind, I can’t think of a single instance when they’ve managed to steal the very essence of what one of the merfolk is—to sever one of us from our power. It’s priceless. They wouldn’t have traded it—would have, in fact, guarded it with their lives. So why does this monster in my head have access to it?

  I cross my arms over my chest and tell myself that the shiver racking my body is from the cold. I’m listening.

  Come to me.

  That surprises a laugh out of me. Pass.

  You’d turn down a chance to regain yourself?

  I’d turn down a chance to walk into a trap like an idiot. I shake my head. This is a waste of time. I turn for the shore when power slams into me, sending me to my knees. The water rushes in—or maybe I rush out—and the next thing I know, I’m up to my chest.

  Don’t be a fool.

  This deep, I finally have a sense of him. He must h
ave held himself back up to this point, because he’s positively ancient. Older than anything I’ve ever felt—even my father—and so powerful that pain lances through my head. It would be so easy to give him what he wants, to stop fighting, to…

  “Get the fuck out of my head!” I sprint for dry land. This deep, it’s more of a fast wade, but I curse and spit and fight the pull of the magic current trying to yank me off my feet. “No, no, no, no, get your stupid magic off me!”

  He releases me all at once and I fly the last few feet and land in a heap just past the now-normal waves. I sit up and scrub sand from my face. Even without the water connection, his dark amusement slithers through me. Another time, pretty. His presence recedes faster than any tide, leaving the storm just a normal storm.

  It’s official—I’m in even worse trouble than I could have imagined.

  3

  The week passes without so much as a blip on my danger radar. No mysterious voices in my head. No midnight sleepwalking into the ocean. Not even the normal internal spinning that accompanies every move my necklace makes. My power responds to it like a cell phone automatically seeking Wi-Fi, so any change on the other end of the line between us affects me. Not anymore. It’s just a steady pulse, always pointing directly west.

  And it’s getting closer.

  That, more than anything, changes my weekend plans. My body might be human, but I still possess enough mermaid that I need to spend time submerged in salt water on a regular basis. Fresh water will work in a pinch, but it’s like eating a handful of peanuts when I’m craving a full steak dinner. It barely scratches the itch.

  I can’t risk it.

  The second I step into the water, he’ll be there. If the last seven days have solidified anything, it’s that the bastard is playing with me. He let me go the other night, and he let me go in the storm, too. I don’t know why, but the why matters less in this moment than the danger he poses. I can’t avoid the water indefinitely, but I can slap a Band-Aid on the problem until I figure out a way around it.

  It’s the only option I have.

  When I rented this house, two features sold me on the insane price—the proximity to the ocean, and the absurdly giant bathtub. Whoever lived here before me must have had a fetish for group bathing, because it’s large enough that I could have fully submerged myself in my other form without breaking the surface.

  I run the water until it’s filled to the brim and then haul in a ten-pound bag of salt. The ratio won’t be quite right, but it will work in what equates to an emergency situation. I dump it under the running water and give the whole thing a good stir to help the salt start dissolving.

  A quick circuit of my house ensures all the doors and windows are locked. I do this every couple of hours that I’m home, drawn by some impulse I refuse to put a name to. Two weeks ago, I barely bothered to throw my deadbolt. Now, I have this place locked down like some kind of inadequate fortress. It won’t stop someone from getting in if they’re the slightest bit determined, but it makes me feel better all the same.

  False comfort is still comfort.

  By this point, the bath is ready. I strip and climb into the water. My skin sparks at the first touch and then settles into a low thrum that I have to concentrate to even feel. A battery barely getting its charge. I lean back against the tub and take several deep breaths. Even now, I can hold my breath for well over ten minutes, which is the bare minimum that I’ll need to get through the next couple days without lethargy sapping my ability to function.

  One last slow exhale and then I fill my meager lungs with as much air as they’ll allow. I sink below the surface and close my eyes. It’s too depressing otherwise. This is what I’ve been reduced to—slumming it in my bathtub instead of the oceans of my birthright.

  Hello, pretty.

  My eyes fly open and bubbles escape my lips before I can contain my shock. The plain porcelain walls of my tub are gone, replaced by inky darkness. Even as I spin in place, freely floating, the distant black gathers close. I get the impression of tentacles, each bigger than the next—the kind of creature that’s spawned thousands of sea monster legends—before the shadows retreat and reveal a man.

  It’s an illusion. It has to be.

  Very few creatures can create anything resembling portals, and none of those include such a smooth transition as what I just made. I look up, unable to see even a hint of sunlight glinting off the surface. If I really am this deep, the pressure would crush me the second I arrived. If that isn’t enough to convince me, the man floating a few feet away wearing a three-piece suit would be. He slides his hands into his pockets as if this isn’t the weirdest freaking thing I’ve ever experienced—and that’s saying something when you’re sent from another world by your father to help save your entire species.

  “You can breathe down here,” he says casually.

  Yeah, right. Won’t be taking your word for that. The slightest burning in my lungs tells me that, no matter what I’m seeing, my body is still back in my tub. Underwater. Inhaling here might mean inhaling there, and it’s not worth the risk. That would be the cap on my shitty luck—a mermaid who drowns in her own bath.

  He circles me, and as he takes me in, I give him the same treatment. Whatever flavor of monster he is, he’s more attractive than he has any right to be. His skin is a deep brown that speaks of the harsh sun and scalding sand, and his black hair is just long enough that it’s allowed to curl. That hair has me thinking of the tentacles I’m certain I saw before he emerged from the darkness around me. Shapeshifter. Each move he makes is lethally smooth, as if just waiting for his moment to strike.

  Predator, through and through.

  Finally, he stops directly in front of me. “Usually when someone offers to help you, the proper response is to say thank you. Not snap at them like a feral animal.”

  I didn’t ask for your help. And I don’t trust his offer to be anything but a lure to get me where he wants me. Too many deep-sea creatures hunt like that—a soft, welcoming light to cover up the jagged teeth that will rip and rend. This one is no different. He’ll coax me into the water by offering me what I want. There are plenty of uses for a mermaid when it comes to water magic—even a mermaid that isn’t quite a mermaid any more. He could easily restore my powers, and then turn around and kill me.

  Or worse.

  “You didn’t ask for my help, and yet you need it all the same.” His smile is wrong somehow, though he lets it fall away before I have a chance to put my finger on what it is. The man looks up and frowns. “You’re running out of time. Take a breath.”

  Distantly, I’m aware that my chest is tight and aching. It doesn’t seem like we’ve been down here ten minutes, but we must be because I need that damn breath. Put me back.

  “How powerful you think I am.” He moves closer, and though I try to back up, I stay rooted in place, my body no longer my own. One would think I’d be used to it by now, but my heart pounds panic through my veins. Helpless. I’m helpless. The man leans down and sifts his fingers through the cloud of my hair floating around my head. “Last chance, pretty. You keep denying me and you won’t like how things fall out.”

  Fear might clog my throat, but I don’t need to open my mouth to make my thoughts heard. I lift my chin and force myself to meet his too-dark gaze. If our current circumstances weren’t enough to confirm it—and they are—one look into those black eyes would be enough to prove he’s not human. He’s not even slightly connected to humans the way most shifters are. We take a little of that mortality into ourselves when we take their shape, even if the core of us doesn’t really change. He might be wearing a human shell, but he’s too deep, too dark, to be fully contained.

  It steals my breath for reasons beyond just terror. There’s something starkly beautiful about the deep sea, down in the places untainted by light. A different world with different rules. This man—this creature—is more dangerous than any I’ve come across in my countless explorations.

  But my father d
id not raise a coward, no matter how broken I currently am.

  Oh, we’re on to the threat portion of this song and dance. Good to know. I put everything I have into jerking out of his reach and cross my arms over my chest. Put me back.

  “Put yourself back.”

  How? I didn’t put myself here to begin with. Panic flutters on my tongue, the desire to inhale nearly overwhelming. I hate him for playing these games with me, for having all the power while I have none. My anger flares brighter and hotter, burning away the last of whatever hold he has on me. I press a hand to my stomach and, just like that, I know what to do.

  I send my finding power in search of my body. It’s farther than I could have possibly dreamed, as if this creature has actually transported me leagues instead of just in my head. I push harder and faster, lights dancing across my vision as my brain screams for air.

  The second my power touches my body, I slam back into reality. I burst from the water, gasping and choking. One inhale to luxuriate in the fact that I’m not dead and have air in my lungs, and then I haul myself out of the bath and collapse on the floor. Even as I escape the water, I can feel him there at the edge of my mental awareness.

  Waiting.

  For what, though? That’s what I don’t understand. Three times he’d had me at his mercy, and three times he’s let me go. A predator toying with his prey, maybe. Or maybe there’s more going on than a curse and a missing necklace.

  I snag a towel and dry off slowly, my mind awhirl. If there’s one thing the last two weeks has proven to me, it’s that I can’t hide from this. I might be unprepared and outmatched, but he’s just going to keep coming. If he can get to me in a bathtub, then he can damn well get to me in any body of water. Going inland won’t work. A portal might, but I can’t make them anymore. That means I’d have to travel to either one of my sisters or to the Nexus Portal, which is kept open all the time.