Siren's Song

by Kaye Draper

  Grey turned, his shoulders tight. Now what?

  Luca beckoned to him, impatient. “We’re going to The Corner Pocket. You coming?”

  Grey sucked on his split lip, considering. The lip was still tender, and he probably had a black eye. Crawling back to the little trailer he shared with his dad had all the appeal of eating slugs. He really didn’t feel like explaining to his father, once again, why he was always getting into fights. It wasn’t like he was a kid anymore, but his dad seemed to have missed that fact somewhere along the line. “Sure.”

  Grey joined Lucifer’s group, feeling self-conscious and out of place. They all joked and laughed as they walked along the rain-damp sidewalk, the tall, lanky bassist and the shorter blond drummer ribbing each other the whole time, and some of the tension in Grey lessened. The guys seemed okay, and he was surprised when Luca dropped back to walk with him.

  “What’s your name?” Luca's deep voice was warm and friendly. Just the same as when he was up in front of an audience, thanking them for coming out. It was kind of cool to know that wasn’t just part of the act.

  “Grey,” he said, darting a glance at the guitarist. He was a good-looking guy, even with all the crazy clothes and makeup—in fact, Grey was seeing the resemblance between Luca and Cameron more and more. And it wasn’t doing great things for his state of mind.

  Luca grinned, the small hoop in his lower lip glinting in the streetlight. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up, Grey.”

  When they got to the bar, Grey ordered a cold drink and soaked his split lip. Definitely preferable to being at home, even if he did still feel restless and out of sorts. He plopped down on a stool in the corner, near a wall that was plastered from floor to ceiling with metal beer ads, movie posters, and random seventies-era paintings. Sighing, he watched the other guys playing pool and flirting with a couple government approved “tourists,” his eyes following the path of a well-endowed brunette in a red dress as she sauntered around the pool table.

  The women who visited the island were sort of like escorts. They picked up guys, and the guys bought them drinks and gifts and basically catered to their every whim just for the chance to be in the presence of the opposite sex. Some of the women really were prostitutes, but no one made a stink about it. It kept the men on the island from brawling—mostly. Plus, they probably made more money in one night than Grey did in a month or two at his job at the local bookstore. The woman struck a sultry pose as she lined up a shot. Grey wondered if anyone else in the place actually noticed how bad she was at pool.

  He watched her heavy breasts bounce as she struck the ball with more force than necessary, then he turned back to the bar, depressed. A flashing sign for a local craft beer, Poseidon's Brew, hung over the mirror behind the bar. Luca's lean reflection was highlighted in neon blue as he approached, and for a second there, Grey had the insane, disorienting sensation that they were underwater.

  The guitarist slid onto a stool beside Grey and watched the crowd. “Do you play pool?”

  Grey shook his head. “I suck at it.” He twirled on his stool to look at the room again. “Though…that doesn’t seem to matter much here.”

  Luca laughed, his eyes on a slender blond "tourist" in a short sundress. “Not at the moment, no,” he agreed.

  The boat had just come in that afternoon. The whole island was like a bunch of horny sailors awaiting the arrival at port—though the gender roles were kind of reversed. The blond saw Luca looking and gave him a slow, welcoming smile. Luca shook his head and turned back to the bar to get his drink, an unreadable expression on his face.

  The woman’s eyes shifted to Grey and she raised an eyebrow. He ignored her and spun on his stool like a little kid. He looked a lot younger than he actually was, and sometimes it worked to his advantage. Like his non-descript clothing, it gave him invisibility.

  He had expected Luca to go over to the woman, but the guitarist seemed content to sit there sipping his drink. Finally, he waved to the bartender and nodded toward Grey, a bit of an amused smirk lifting one corner of his lips. “The little guy here will take one too.”

  Grey raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He also didn’t point out the fact that they were probably the same age, and that size notwithstanding, he could likely kick Luca’s ass. He was too broke to pass up a free drink. He took the coke the bartender handed him without complaint.

  Luca elbowed him and stood. “C’mon, I’ll teach you how to play pool—someone in here should make an honest attempt.”

  Grey snorted but followed him anyway. He took a sip of his Coke and coughed. Rum. So much rum. Luca smirked at him and Grey pretended nothing was wrong. Drinking really wasn’t his strong suit. He'd have to limit himself to one, to make sure he didn't end up spilling his guts to the room at large.

  Lucifer's bassist and drummer, Matheus and Ethan, drifted over to offer pointers on Grey’s awful game. Matheus had one long arm around the busty woman who’d been playing pool with them before, and the lanky guy was all dark smolder, his hazel eyes full of flirtatious promise. He saw Grey watching them and winked, giving him a little half smirk.

  Grey tried to pay attention to playing pool, rather than the demonstration of just how much smoother the other guys were around the women. Luckily, Grey was a quick learner. Luca’s rich bass murmured instructions, and Grey learned to block out the others’ less than helpful commentary. A few more drinks appeared in his hand like magic, and the pool balls actually started going where Grey wanted them to. He was surprised how much he was enjoying himself. And by the realization of how long it had been since he had actually enjoyed anything.

  They had been at it for a while, and Grey was lost in the buzz of alcohol, sarcastic banter, and general hilarity. He stood up from his last shot, proud of himself for sinking the eight ball, and felt the soft press of a body against his back. The busty tourist slipped her arms around him, caressing his chest through his t-shirt. Grey’s eyes met Luca’s across the pool table and the guitarist smirked. For fuck’s sake. Grey probably looked as ridiculous as he felt, like a kid in the clutches of an exotic dancer.

  He turned and searched for a good place to put his hands. The woman pressed herself closer and he felt a twinge down below. His mind might rebel, but his body said it knew exactly what to do. She tangled a hand in the hair at the nape of Grey’s neck and he chuckled softly. Everyone loved the curls. Maybe he should shave his head.

  The woman’s other hand slipped lower, coming to rest on his ass. She smelled like expensive floral perfume, and her breath was warm in his ear. The government spared no cost to make sure the island wasn’t torn apart by repressed male urges and all the other buzz words people threw around.

  “You’re adorable,” she breathed. “Pretty guy like you. I could eat. You. Up.” She nipped delicately at his neck.

  Grey reached back and gently pulled her hands off his butt. Adorable. He was adorable. Not hot, or sexy, or anything even remotely manly. He looked young and soft, like an easy mark—maybe someone who would be so thrilled with the attention, he’d shower her with cash and gifts.

  He was tempted to take her up on her offer, just out of spite. But it would only be to prove a point, and Grey had enough wits left in his alcohol-soaked brain to realize that wasn’t him. He pushed her hands away and forced a grin.

  “Believe me, sweetheart,” he said, giving her cheek an insulting pinch, as if he were talking to a child. “You couldn’t handle this thing if you tried.” Thanks to her molestation, it was pretty obvious that not all of him was small.

  The woman gave a “hmph!” and an impressive hair toss, then sauntered away to find more willing company. Grey let out a breath, depressed all over again. His buzz was starting to wear off, he had a hard-on, and everyone was staring at him. Great. He downed the last of his drink and headed for the door.

  Luca put his pool cue away as Grey passed. Stretching, the guitarist let out a jaw-popping yawn. “I’ve gotta get going too. Stuff to do tomorrow.” He wa
ved to Ethan and got a cheery wave in return. Matheus was too busy soaking up the attention of both the other tourist and a pretty, blond-haired guy to notice. “See ya tomorrow,” Luca called to Ethan. Then he snagged his jacket off the back of a nearby chair, grabbed his guitar case, and followed Grey out the door.

  Grey took a few breaths of the chilly night air, willing it to calm his body and mind. He moved over to make room when Luca fell into step beside him. The musician probably lived in one of the brick row houses up the street, a far cry from Grey’s trailer park. Maybe the bandmates lived together. It was common these days for people to share rent. Jobs were sparse, and…frankly, it helped people feel less isolated, if they weren’t living alone.

  “This was cool,” Grey said absently, just for something to say. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

  Luca smiled, open and genuine, and…real. “Yeah. No problem.”

  They continued along for a while in silence as Grey tried to focus on walking a straight line down the sidewalk. Something about his metabolism made alcohol his kryptonite. Luca nudged him, apparently mistaking his concentration for melancholy. “Hey. Don’t worry about earlier—my brother and his idiot friends—they won’t mess with you again.” He gestured back toward the bar. "And none of us are going to judge you."

  “What?” Grey glanced at him and stumbled a bit. God, why did he even try to drink?

  Luca shrugged. “I know it must suck to be…well, to have guys picking on you all the time for something you can’t help.” He gave Grey a crooked smile. “You should hear the crap they say about me. And I choose to be a loner.”

  Grey sighed. “It was my fault for being a smart ass,” he said. “I just get so pissed off sometimes.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, look at the girly guy!” he intoned. “He’s so skinny. Sucks at football. Hell, he’s probably gay. He doesn’t deserve to live.’” Grey rolled his eyes. “And then there’s the women. ‘Oh he’s so cute. Looks clueless. Probably pretty desperate. Let’s see if he’s rich.’”

  Luca snorted. “Really though,” he insisted. “Cameron isn’t that bad. It’s just when he’s with those idiots. It’s like he loses brain cells. Usually he’s an okay guy. I don’t know what his deal was tonight.”

  They shuffled to a halt in front of a tidy brownstone row building that probably housed several apartments. Grey plopped down on a bench under the branches of a scraggly maple tree. The leaves were still clinging to the tree, but they were getting sparse. He was sobering up slightly—and wondering why Luca wanted him to think his brother was so amazing. Grey already knew Cameron was amazing. Who didn’t? He also knew the guy wasn’t about to start dating a guy, no matter what the current fucked-up situation on the island. This conversation was just weird.

  Luca sat down next to him, stretching impossibly long legs clad in faux-leather and about a bazillion buckles and snaps. Grey glanced over at him in the yellow light of the streetlamp. “Are you drunk too?”

  “No.” Luca sighed. “Maybe a little. Look, I know it must be hard for you. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t win him over. He’s really into women, but…you never know, sometimes people can be…more flexible than they think, given everything that’s happened around here. You seem like a really cool guy.” He squinted at Grey. “And you really are pretty.”

  Grey stared at him with his mouth hanging open. He had trouble forming words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t--”

  “Idolize my brother?" Luca interrupted with a grin. "He is all you’ve talked about since that first drink...you really can’t hold your alcohol by the way. Though, it’s kind of cute how you wax poetical about wide shoulders.”

  Grey put his hands over his face and groaned, earning a laugh from Luca. “I saw the way you looked at him earlier. Like your whole world was crushed. I recognize that look. It’s exactly how I felt when my last girlfriend dumped me." He shrugged. "It’s the way everyone looks at him—though mostly it’s the women.”

  Grey sat back and groaned, mortified. He hadn’t meant to be so obvious. He didn’t know what to say.

  Luca put his hands behind his head and looked up at the black sky beyond the skinny branches. “Everyone has secrets, Grey.” He sounded too serious, and Grey was glad when his tone shifted back to laid-back punk. “I’m having the guys over tomorrow. Ours is the one with the red door.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder toward the building behind them. “Cameron will probably be there—we're roommates. You should come.”

  Luca reached over and ruffled Grey’s hair. “You might as well let him know how you feel. It’s been years. I don’t think you’re going to just change back one day, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

  Grey choked. “What?”

  Luca knew? He knew, and he had been treating Grey like a guy all night. Grey began to wonder if he was really that transparent, or if this guy just had amazing powers of observation. Grey had always tried so hard not to let it show. He knew how badly people reacted. How ugly it could get. So he was always careful to try to blend in.

  Luca flashed his charming, lop-sided grin. “I can’t even imagine how hard it is being a morph. God, that would suck!”

  Grey finally found his voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a morph. I’m just a normal guy. Well…apart from the whole liking men thing.”

  Luca shrugged, but Grey thought he seemed a little disappointed. “Really? I thought for sure….” He sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter. We all had fun tonight.” He stretched and stood. “It’s been a long day. I’ll see you tomorrow about nine or so.”

  Grey stood and stared at him. “I can still come? I mean…after all of that?”

  Luca looked back. “Well, yeah. I did invite you, didn’t I? Besides, you might actually be a good influence on my idiot brother. Who knows?” His eyes clouded for a moment and his smile dimmed. “He’s different lately…I think it’s all getting to him, you know?” Then he seemed to snap out of it. “See you tomorrow.”

  Grey suppressed a smile. He wanted to thank Luca, wanted to tell him how sweet he was under all that hardware and eyeliner. But Grey wasn’t a girl. Not anymore.

  He turned and gave Luca a casual wave over his shoulder as he headed home.

  Chapter 2

  Luca tried to keep a calm front, but inside he was seething. What had gotten into Cameron lately? Those idiots he hung out with were like a bunch of bored animals, always looking for an unfortunate toy to play with. That wasn’t Cam. He was better than that. Luca couldn’t help but feel his brother was slipping further and further away from him since The Change.

  As Luca stepped up onto the stoop, he glanced over his shoulder toward the goons’ latest victim. The guy walking away from him was a prime target for their crap. He was a head shorter than Luca, broad shouldered, but compact. His heart-shaped face and green eyes were framed by a tumble of brown curls. A pretty guy like him was just asking for it where bullies were concerned. Luca smirked. Too bad for them this pretty guy could apparently handle himself. The look on that jock’s face when his target landed the first punch had been priceless.

  Luca's smile slowly faded as Grey turned a corner at the last streetlight and disappeared from sight. His speed during the fight, that liquid way he moved—Luca should have known something wasn't right. But it wasn't until they were on their way to the bar that the reason for the man's unusual pull was suddenly obvious. When Grey had stepped around a wet spot on the pavement and his arm brushed Luca’s, a tingle of magic had passed through Luca’s aura.

  There was more to this guy than he let on. At first it was so fleeting Luca thought he’d imagined it, but as the night progressed, he'd watched the gorgeous man draw the others in the room right to him like a magnet. But Grey didn’t even seem to know he was doing it.

  Luca sighed. He should probably let his father know something was going on. The old man liked to be aware of any magic in the area. But Luca felt responsible somehow, particularly
since his idiot brother was involved. He knew he would end up responsible for the new guy, one way or another. Might as well keep an eye on him until he figured out exactly what he was.

  Chapter 3

  Miles away, on the other side of the island, the goddess rose from the sea.

  The creature floated on her back in the clear water, her flaxen hair fanning out about her, blending with the silvery glint of moonlight on water. The waves buoyed her up, then down, like lover’s hands sliding over her perfect body. She flipped over and glided effortlessly through the cool waves to a nearby rock. Sliding onto its surface, she pulled her shapely legs up and rested her chin on her knees as the waves lapped about her perch. She grinned. In times gone by, she had been mistaken for a mermaid. A smitten sailor would only make that mistake one time in his life.

  Human men had begun to lose their appeal over the last hundred years or so. They were good servants—if prone to annoying bouts of jealousy—but nothing more. She sneered as she thought of the last human to stir in her the vile emotions that their kind went on about—feelings that inspired them to write poetry, wage wars, or risk dying for. Sickening things, emotions. They made one act as if she wasn’t herself. She would never understand why the gods were so obsessed with such weak creatures purely because they were susceptible to such sickness. Souls. As far as she could see, a soul was like a disease.

  Much more useful was the power that came with being born of the elements, wild and free, unhindered by weaknesses like love. She compressed her lips as she stared out at the moon-kissed waves.

  Her derision for those poor creatures who suffered from the human condition was precisely what had landed her here, on a frigid little island in the middle of nowhere.

  While Arianna endured the cold caress of the Atlantic, her sisters often basked in the warm tropical waters of the Mediterranean or the Caribbean. But while they kowtowed to the gods and hid from the humans in the depths of the ocean, she was free to be herself. No one watched too closely here. No one cared to steal her territory. She lived as a queen in her little corner of the world, while others of her kind were mere shadows of a long-forgotten race, kept in the gilded cage of the warm waters and the dubious favor of the gods.