Macabre Melody: Reverse Harem Siren Romance (Spellsinger Book 7)

by Amy Sumida

  “Keep moving, sweet ass.”

  “She's just a child!” I pointed at the girl. “What kind of monsters are you?”

  “Gargoyles,” he said slowly.

  “You hurt her and—” I shook my head menacingly.

  “And what?” He laughed again.

  Oh, this guy was going to laugh himself right into his grave. And I was going to put him there. I'd tear that gold hoop right out of his ear as I did it. Maybe I'd wear it as a trophy. What was good for the goose was good for the gander.

  “And when I get free of this collar, I will crush you into gargoyle pudding.” I turned on my heel and started walking again.

  He kept laughing; making my back clench with rage.

  An arch loomed before me; solid gray stone without a seam. I could see a sandy expanse through the iron gate that covered the curved opening. As I approached, the gate lifted—rumbling and grating up into the rock—and the gargoyle prodded me through with the end of his stick. I stepped out into glaring light and squinted around me. The gate crashed down, and with it came a wave of magic. Above my head, a violet shimmer in the air revealed the presence of a ward. I was locked in from all sides; not even my magic could get out. Which was the point, I'm sure. Cer was right; they had some serious shit in place to keep us in place.

  The roar of a cheering crowd suddenly hit me, and I lifted my stare past the ward to the rings of seats going up hundreds of feet into the air. Despite the height of the enclosure, the cave's ceiling still loomed far above. As I mentioned, zones are underground. Gargoyles had made them; manipulating rock into whatever shape they desired. They were excellent architects; designing both the structures and the Zone itself with careful attention to detail. They had made sure to include both horizontal and vertical space. Not just to keep the air fresh and give a feeling of open sky, but also to give winged beneathers (such as themselves) the opportunity to soar. The Gargoyles controlled every zone entrance; sliding thick portions of mountain rock together to seal them whenever they felt the inclination. I've heard that it only takes them seconds to shifts tons of rock. Zones were the ultimate fortresses.

  Or, in my case, a tomb.

  I had been buried alive, and now I had to claw my way out of my grave. Except it wasn't just earth I needed to move, it was magically manipulated stone.

  At least it was a vibrant tomb. The beneather in me marveled at the collection of supernatural races on display above me. Suparnas (werefalcons) swooped overhead along with angels, harpies, and thunderbirds; feathers in all the colors of the rainbow brightening the sky. There was a suspicious lack of gargoyles up there, but I assumed that all the gargoyles of the zone had better things to do than fly around watching an arena match.

  I brought my gaze down to the seats. A troll squatted on a stone bench; pushing a large ape down to the end and nearly off it. The ape shifted into a dark-skinned, naked man and started cussing out the troll. A guard I assumed to be a gargoyle stepped up and stopped the fight with a wave of his electric wand. I slid my stare away and it widened. Gorgons were there in large numbers; wearing colorful scarves around their dangerous snake-locks. tikbalangs (horse-like creatures) crunched apples with their long teeth, and loups showed off their muscles to every pretty girl who passed. Satyrs, nymphs, oni, adlets, it went on and on. It was hard to focus on any single species. I had never seen so many different beneather races in one place.

  And all it took to get them together was a battle to the death. How sweet.

  My stare stuttered to a stop on a glassed-in viewing box; set lower than the other seats. It jutted out just above the arena ward; giving it the best view in the house. A man stood at the ceiling-to-floor windows; staring down at me. He wore an expensive suit and a pensive expression. A watch gleamed on one wrist. I couldn't see the color of his eyes from where I stood, but I knew they were focused on me intently; probably sizing up his latest acquisition. I had no doubt that I was looking at the Zone Lord.

  Power poured off him. Not magic, but power. I could see it even from this distance. It was in the way he stood; legs apart like a soldier and arms crossed like a king. It was in the way his rugged jaw lifted and the way his patrician nose sloped. Even his fucking cheekbones looked sharp enough to kill. I tore my gaze away from him and stretched my shoulders. The jackass with the jolt-rod said I'd get my magic back when I needed it. I assumed that meant for the fight. Well, I wasn't about to entertain anyone; I wasn't Russel Crowe. I'd make this short and sweet, and see how they liked that.

  Another gate opened on the opposite end of the arena. The audience got to its feet as one and shouted for the man who strode in. He was even more arrogant than the gargoyle in the glass box; walking with a swagger that set my teeth on edge. Obviously a crowd favorite, this guy worked his fans with shouted comments and flippant waves as he sauntered closer to me. He casually swung his club; grazing the sand with its spike tip. His cockiness and eagerness weren't surprising. He was a Laestrygonian; a giant cannibal. There was no doubt in my mind that he had come here to fight of his own free will. For pleasure.

  And they had put him up against me; a woman not even a third his size. Wow. Just wow. I guess my jailer had faith in me. I should be flattered.

  The Laestrygonian didn't need magic; he didn't even need that stupid club. There was nothing holding him back; no collar around his throat. And I still didn't have my magic. I started to sweat as I stood my ground; a bead of it going down my spine beneath the sweater. I blamed it on my warm clothes, but I knew they weren't entirely to blame. Were they going to turn this damn collar off anytime soon? Was I going to have to run around the massive arena like a helpless idiot? Scream like a fair maiden in distress? Not that I wouldn't do it; the running, not the screaming. I'm not too proud to run. Especially from a cannibal. Fuck; this bastard would probably start nibbling on me before I was dead.

  “Tasty!” The giant declared as he settled his gaze on me.

  “What is this; Candy Crush?” I muttered.

  “No more bets!” A man's voice came out of speakers all around me.

  I glanced to my left—across from the Zone Lord's comfy viewing box—and saw a couple of beneathers standing in an open-air box at the lowest level of seats. A man and a woman. They looked human, although they couldn't possibly be, and a microphone was set before them.

  “We have a treat for you today,” the woman—a flashy redhead with a huge rack—purred.

  “Yes; she looks delicious. Thank you,” the giant rumbled.

  The crowd laughed.

  Great. They'd giggle as he tore off pieces of me and crunched my bones. This audience was even more bloodthirsty than the ones in Rome had been. I should know; my Aunt Adelaid used to tell me bedtime stories of her glory days. She'd been a frequent visitor of the Colosseum before she burned Rome for Nero. No; my mother wasn't aware that her aunt (Addie was actually my grand aunt) had been telling me bloody bedtime stories. Mom wouldn't have stood for that. But I had loved them. Maybe it wasn't so surprising that I'd turned out the way I had.

  “She's a wild card,” the woman went on. “A woman of unknown ability. We know she's got magic, just not how much of it or what it is. Isn't that exciting?”

  “I'll show you exciting,” I growled.

  The laestrygonian eyed me with a little less arrogance. I stretched my shoulders and gave him a wicked grin.

  “You never know what will show up in our arena! Is she a witch? A shapeshifter? We'll soon find out,” The man went on. “Are you ready, champions?”

  The giant roared. I stuck my tongue out at the announcer. Am I a witch? Oh yeah, buddy; half of one. The crowd laughed hard enough to vibrate the stone, and the announcer grimaced.

  “Fight!” The woman shouted.

  Suddenly, magic rushed into me. It felt like surfacing after a deep dive; breaking the waves to take a life-sustaining breath. Being without magic was like being without my right arm. I felt crippled. Human. I frowned. This is what I'd done to an entire court of Shinin
g Ones.

  Sing! Kyanite shouted in my head as music burst to life in the air around us.

  The crowd froze; even the announcers gaped at me. Everyone knew what that music meant, and I'd bet my bottom dollar that they'd never had one of my kind in their arena. Especially not one that came with her own stereo system. The gargoyle who had led me out to the arena was leaning against the gate I'd gone through; watching me with a fascinated smile. Even the giant came to a halt and just stared at me.

  Then everyone jumped to their feet and started shouting at once. A lot of words were being tossed about, but only one caught my attention: Spellsinger! Yeah, they knew what they had now, but if they thought they were getting a concert out of me, they were sorely mistaken. As sorely mistaken as this giant was about to be.

  A Perfect Circle's “Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” had a jagged, grating sound that felt right at home in that harsh environment. It jolted out across the sand like the movements of a saw. When I began to sing, it was a dangerous whisper; a seductive call instead of a matching slam. My words soothed. Lured. Promised. Just lay down and sleep, sweetheart. Aren't you tired?

  Ridiculous really. It wasn't a lullaby but a swan song. I commanded the giant to take a dirt nap; to close his eyes forever. The power of my magic burst out of me and drummed through the giant's brain; bashing his gray matter into a pulp just as he'd intended to do to me with his club. No mercy, Cerberus had said. I took his advice and showed none.

  The laestrygonian dropped his club; his mouth hanging open in shock. The blood vessels in his eyes burst and blood poured out of his nose a second before he keeled over and struck his forehead right on his own weapon. It cracked like an enormous watermelon and pulverized brain oozed out. The vibrations of that crack and of his fall in general nearly sent me to my knees. But I held my arms out and rode the waves. I'd watched enough surfers from my backyard in Hawaii to catch a few tricks.

  The crowd—who had never sat down—jumped up and down with glee. That's how quickly they turn. Their favorite was dead, but they were delighted. I refused to delight them any further. I stopped singing—my song cutting off abruptly—and started walking back to the gate. The Beneathers hung over the edge of the arena and shouted down to me. They wanted to know my name. I ignored them. The gate rattled open—the blond gargoyle waiting for me with a shit-eating grin—but just before I went inside, I turned around and faced the Zone Lord. He was staring at me again but this time, a soft smile played around his firm lips.

  I flipped him the bird and swung my hips as I strode back into the prison.

  Chapter Seven

  Later that night, after I'd been given some time alone in the communal showers, our prison warden brought me a tray of food. I looked up as the door opened and the scent of steak and fried potatoes wafted in. My mouth watered, and I stood eagerly. My stomach rumbled loud enough for the gargoyle to hear.

  “Your spoils for the day.” He set the tray on the bed with a grin at my belly. “Win again, and you'll get a better cell too.”

  “Whoopee,” I said without enthusiasm. “What are you feeding the girl?”

  “What girl?” He frowned at me.

  “The Sasq'et,” I growled. “What are you giving her to eat?”

  He blinked in surprise. “Bread and water; that's what everyone gets until they win their first fight. We're traditional like that.”

  “Take that tray and give it to her.” I pointed at the food. “I'll take her bread and water.”

  The gargoyle gaped at me.

  “Did I fucking stutter?” I snapped.

  “Shit,” he whispered, and then he smirked. “We have ourselves a budding hero.”

  “Fucker, you don't even know who you're standing in front of!” Cerberus shouted over to us. “Hero? She's beyond a hero. There ain't a word that can describe her awesomeness. That woman saved the whole fucking world. Two of 'em. And she's still saving them; one little girl at a time. You fucking go, El! I love you!”

  The gargoyle gave Cerberus a disbelieving look over his shoulder.

  “I love you too, Cer,” I said with a smile.

  Cer saw the gargoyle's look. “You don't believe me? Ask around, motherfucker. Ask the Shining Ones who stopped the Sapphire King from taking over the Earth and destroying the Veil. Ask them who wore the Witch Relic! I'll save you the trouble; they'll say Elaria Tanager did. You ever hear of a spellsinger who can make music out of thin air? No; only her. Ask yourself why that is. I'll tell you why; because she's—”

  “Save it, Cer,” I cut him off before he gave away all of my secrets.

  The gargoyle frowned and looked back at me thoughtfully.

  I picked up the tray and handed it back to him. “None of that matters here. Actions speak, and I'm about to start talking.” I shoved the tray into his chest when he didn't take it. “Loud and clear.”

  The gargoyle finally took the tray and nodded at me. “Okay, Spellsinger, I'll be back with some bread and water for you.”

  He paused at the door.

  “I'm Jago, by the way,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Elaria Tanager.”

  “What kind of stupid ass name is Jago?” Cerberus huffed at the gargoyle as he passed by.

  “What kind of stupid ass name is Cerberus?” Jago shot back.

  “Greek, dumb-ass!” Cerberus shouted.

  “You think she's okay?” I asked Cerberus as I stared after Jago.

  “For now,” he lowered his voice to say. “But she ain't gonna last here. Her first fight will be a slaughter.”

  My throat tightened. I knew he was right. There had to be a way that I could help her.

  I waited until I saw the gargoyle coming back down the hallway. “Hey, Jago!”

  Jago smirked at me as he sauntered over. “Miss me already, El?”

  “Don't use my nickname for her, douche bag,” Cerberus growled. “You haven't earned it.”

  Jago ignored him.

  “I wanna see your boss,” I said.

  He smirked wider. “Not gonna happen.”

  “I wanna make him an offer.” I smiled viciously. “It'll be worth his time.”

  Jago looked intrigued.

  “What the fuck are you doing, El?” Cerberus asked with a hint of worry.

  I just gave him a look.

  “Aw fuck,” Cer swore.

  “All right.” Jago opened the door. “Come on, World Savior.”

  I looked at him in surprise. That was easy. Too easy.

  “He wanted to see me anyway,” I concluded.

  Jago smirked again.

  “Whatever,” I muttered. “Just take me to the fucker.”

  “I'd watch my words around him if I were you,” Jago said with sudden seriousness.

  I lifted an eyebrow but didn't say anything as Jago grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway in the opposite direction of the arena. Faces stared out at me from the cells as I passed; some interested, some too cold to care. I looked away; focusing on the door at the end of the aisle. It was steel and had a solid panel with a large keyhole. Jago pulled a keychain out of his pants pocket. I made sure to note which pocket. The keys jangled in a metal taunt as he slipped one into the lock. A slight click and then the keys were swiftly tucked away again. Jago yanked on the steel-bar handle and the door swung in to reveal its impressive thickness; about eight inches. Yep; they were prepared for all kinds of Beneathers.

  There was a gargoyle on guard on the other side of the door; he took care of shutting it for Jago. He didn't ask about or even look at me; just did his job. Jago pulled me past him; through stone hallways that branched off in different directions. The cells we passed were empty. I wondered if he was taking me in circles to confuse me in case I ever tried to escape, but I didn't bother asking. It didn't matter; I'd find my way out of here with a song if I had to.

  The hallway widened slightly and we came to another length of cells. These were occupied. I glimpsed beneathers lying on real beds; r
eading books or just staring at the ceiling. These must be the nicer cells. Which meant that—

  “Hey, Jago, who's your friend?” A dark-skinned man with thick, long black hair stared through a barred window at me. His eyes were blank; like a bird of prey.

  “Can it, Geronimo,” Jago snapped.

  I looked over at Jago with a lifted brow.

  “Thunderbird,” Jago said as if it explained it.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The thunderbird was smiling at me; not in a friendly way.

  Thankfully, this was the last stretch and after passing through an antechamber, we stepped outside and into an open space. It looked like a training yard; exercise equipment and picnic tables gathered together in an orderly fashion. A few men were working out; one was running on a track that surrounded the area. No guards were watching them. One of the picnic tables had some of those metal rods on it. Right; they were the guards.