Siren Song

by Alex Hayes

  “What’s Evatenon night vision like?” I murmur, hoping this confrontation will be over quickly, so I can get upstairs and find the girls.

  “No idea,” Idris whispers. “But if the one who took Ryker is still human, he’ll need light or be at a disadvantage.”

  We take a few steps forward, passing the cement staircase leading to the upper floors. Ahead, a strip of light escapes the bottom of a closed door. The same one I entered earlier.

  “They’ve got light,” I whisper. The two Evatenon have resumed their earlier positions in the worn out kitchen.

  Standing directly ahead of Idris, I open the next barrier. The door swings, stopping against the same trash as before. I creep inside, adjusting with Idris’s position, so my presence won’t be detected.

  Ryker’s laugh rumbles from across the room. “Guess ol’ Connell couldn’t take the heat, not even for his girl. Left you to do his dirty work, huh?”

  My teeth grind. Evatenon or not, I’m beyond ready to deck the guy. His blue friend holds his silver weapon, the one I need to relieve him of.

  A yellow flashlight on the kitchen island points straight up at a spread of stained ceiling panels and catches the wisps of smoke curling below.

  “He left for reinforcements.” The calm in Idris’s voice impresses me.

  How the hell is he not terrified? I sure am, and Rowan’s increasing stress doesn’t help.

  Being invisible has its advantages, but I wouldn’t stand a chance in hand-to-hand combat against either of these guys. Now I’m standing between them and their current target with a weapon pointed straight at me.

  The crystal locator device sits on the island in sight of Ryker, but his eyes are pinned to Idris.

  I’ve got to break cover and hope Ryker doesn’t check the device.

  I follow the tracks in the dust, gaze switching between the birdlike prints I’m laying across the floor and the two aliens who might take a potshot at Idris at any second.

  “You’re less entertaining than Connell,” Ryker says, a smirk lifting his lips. “Neutralize him.”

  As the blue guy lifts his weapon, it whirls, and I’m still too far away to reach it.

  Shit, what do I do?

  Indecision locks me to the spot.

  Idris lifts his hands, palms forward, and a wave of energy explodes from his body.

  Ryker’s hand slams against a device hooked to his belt. Idris’s sound blast quivers through the air, hits an invisible barrier and bounces back. The force catches me as it rebounds, hurling me into a concrete wall.

  If not for the explosion of dust and debris scattering around the space, I’d have caught their notice for certain, but a cloud fills the room, mingling with the thickening smoke.

  Lying in a heap, I splutter and fight the urge to cough.

  To my amazement, Idris is still vertical, though he leans against a wall, visibly shaken by the reflected energy.

  Before I can do anything, squiggly waves erupt from the Evatenon weapon, striking Idris. He collapses to the floor.

  My eyes threaten to bug out and my throat constricts. He can’t be dead.

  No, that wouldn’t make sense. They want him alive, to assimilate, but right now, Idris looks as good as dead, and I’m in no position to help him.

  “Lieutenant, help yourself.” Ryker grins, palms rubbing together as if in anticipation. “I’m looking forward to the one upstairs.”

  Rowan?

  Over my freaking dead body.

  The Evatenon lieutenant lumbers toward Idris.

  Ryker steps clear of the kitchen cabinetry. “Once you’re done, find Vardo.”

  I feel a stirring from my crystal. Idris is still alive, which means the blue bastard intends to assimilate him.

  I’ve got to do something. I turn onto my side, keeping my wings tucked, and rise slowly to my feet. I’m about to grapple with the armed alien for his weapon when a tiny cough slips from my constricted lungs.

  “Ah, there you are, Connell.”

  Damn it.

  Ryker turns in my direction, holding the locator device in his hand, pointed straight at me. “I didn’t think you’d stray far.”

  Ryker’s four-armed companion pauses in his trek toward Idris and turns his weapon on me.

  “Not with your girls trapped upstairs,” Ryker adds. “Assuming they’re still alive.

  Trapped? Still alive?

  Rowan is. I know that much. But she’s scared.

  I stiffen, eyes locked on the gun pointed at me.

  “Wanting the best of both worlds? But that’s you, isn’t it, Connell? As if Azera would have settled for anything less than your undivided attention.” He laughs, softly. “I couldn’t tempt her away. Even putting her reputation on the line by exposing your trick in the trees didn’t dampen her ardor.”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  Ryker toys with the crystal tracker. “But I’d already pegged her as a jealous bitch, and you sent one girl to rescue the other? My bet is only one will survive.”

  I shake my head, trying to clear the fog. The asshole’s playing with me.

  Ryker sighs and says to the other guy, “Deal with him.”

  Beating my wings hard, I lift off, filling the room with a fresh cloud of dust. My wing tips hit walls and I almost whack my head on the ceiling.

  These are tight quarters, too tight, but I manage to veer left, out of the weapon’s line of fire and claw at the Evatenon’s face with my crow-like feet.

  He wails and whips the gun, to and fro, trying to knock me to the ground.

  I twist and hook my fingers over his head, digging razor claws into his eyes.

  Screaming, the blue beast drops his weapon and lifts all arms to defend his face.

  I break away, pulling wings in tight, then dive and roll, scooping the gun into my arms as I go.

  As I fumble with the controls, the weapon discharges, hitting Ryker with a squiggly mass of blue lightning. Struggling to get a better grip on the gun, I slide a lever on its side. No time to figure out what I just did. I fire at the blue guy.

  A super intense light blasts out of the weapon. It hits the Evatenon pawing his eyes, reducing the mass of muscle to a pile of dust.

  I gape. I just blasted that guy to ash.

  Still gasping, I return my attention to Ryker. Whether he’s dead or not, he’s down. I grab the tracking device lying on the floor near his head, then run to Idris and drop a hand against his chest. His crystal pulses warm. He’s unconscious, but otherwise, unharmed.

  I spare what energy I dare to speed up his recovery, then retrieve my jeans and shoes off the hallway floor, lay the weapon and tracking device on Idris’s belly and drag him out of the derelict apartment.

  The passageway is full of smoke and Rowan is now horrified.

  As soon as Idris is out the back door, I grab my boxers and run inside, pulling them on as I go, then shape shift into Livran form and race up the stairs to find the girls.

  37

  Rowan

  Entering a building from a fire escape should be easy, right?

  Not this building.

  The sixth-floor window off the fire escape is blocked by a half-inch sheet of plywood, held in place by cement nails.

  A loose rail on the fire escape creaks as I gaze down at the ground. The nearest streetlight seems miles away. I flip my eyes up again, fast. My head spins and I tighten my grip on the railing, which groans.

  Ugh. Whose idea was it to climb this rusty old fire escape with its peeling paint and rattly joints?

  Once vertigo passes, I shift my attention to the plywood barrier, sliding scaly fingers between the board and the window’s metal frame. Not much to grip, but I’m able to flex the plywood enough to slip both palms under a corner and pull. From this position, I wiggle the first nail free, then the next.

  After adjusting my grip, I brace myself and engage my full Livran strength to peel the board from the building. Each tug releases a soft squeak from the wood and a shower o
f cement dust. A few nails clang against the metal grating at my feet before plummeting to the ground.

  The board comes loose suddenly, weight dropping into my arms, and I stumble backward. The railing squeaks in protest under the combined impact of me and the board, making my heart rate shoot up.

  Recovering, I set the plywood sheet against the guardrail and examine the window. The latch has a handle on both sides of the frame, which makes sense, since this is a fire escape. The rusty catch is no challenge under my scaly grip. Surrendering with a snap, the fastener falls away and the window lifts without resistance.

  Smoke plumes into my face as the aperture turns into a chimney. I cough and back away from its upward flow.

  The river of smoke fades to a thick stream, and I dodge below the snaking vapor, filling my lungs with air before hoisting myself over the window ledge and into the building.

  Despite my lizard eyes, I can’t see a whole lot through the darkness. The stub corridor I’m standing in intersects a main passageway that appears to run the length of the building.

  Con said Azera was near the center of this floor.

  While much of the smoke has rushed out the open window, clearing most of the corridor, more billows out from under a doorway, suggesting the location of the fire. Tentatively, I touch the metal clad door. No heat, which doesn’t make sense. Something’s causing this smoke. If not a spreading fire, then what?

  Laying both palms flat against the entry, I focus on cooling the door and the space beyond it. I’ve never tried heating or cooling air before, but heat transfer from a gas should be possible. If I freeze the moisture in the air beyond this door, the water vapor in the smoke will turn to ice and should fall out of the atmosphere. In theory.

  I send cooling through the doorway and beyond. Within seconds, the smoke, billowing from the gap, peters out.

  Looks good, I guess. Well, here’s hoping. I open the door.

  A layer of ash and sparkling ice crystals blanket the cement floor of an empty apartment. Crouching, I swipe a finger through the powder. The ice crystals melt on my fingertips, leaving behind a mix of water and soot.

  Stepping cautiously into the dark room, I find a flat metal tray holding the charred remains of a massive pile of wood chips, now ice cold.

  Apparently, burning the place down wasn’t the plan. The smoke was for effect, a show intended to frighten us.

  Fire extinguished, I resume my search for Con’s missing…whatever she is, Azera.

  I sense a short burst of emotion from Con, concern. I’d better hurry.

  Or maybe I should head down and find him.

  No, my mission is to find his girl. I bite my lip. If he loves her, then like it or not, I have to care, because the only thing worse than my heart being shattered is his.

  My sensitive alien ears pick up a soft ding, which leads me to a closed door with a sign on the wall that says Maintenance.

  I grip the handle and turn. The door’s locked. Tightening my grasp, I force the knob. The mechanism snaps, and the metal grip and shank drop into my hand.

  With a solid shoulder, I muscle the door open, but it resists, catching on something lying on the floor. I pick up the offending item, a length of cloth, which turns out to be a denim jacket, and push the door all the way open.

  A figure lies on the floor, face pressed into stained linoleum. Azera, I presume. Her arms are outstretched, secured by a metal chain to a copper pipe.

  My jaw clenches. Those Evatenon jerks left her here to asphyxiate.

  I squat and shake her shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?” My heart quickens when she doesn’t move, but a soft moan tells me she’s alive. I reach to brush away the straggly brown hair from her face and remember I’m still in Livran form.

  I shape shift back to human. A mistake. My lungs launch into a coughing fit. Must be some chemical in the air I’m less sensitive to in my alien form.

  Con said Azera knew about his ability to change into an invisible bird creature. I guess if she wakes up, she’ll just have to deal with me being a lizard.

  I shape shift back and take a deeper, clearer breath, then study the copper pipe, frowning. Water or gas?

  Probably best not to mess with that and deal with the chain binding her wrists instead.

  I’m not sure I can snap cast steel with my fingers. Not unless I freeze it first. Melting would be more effective but would result in Con’s friend getting burned. He wouldn’t thank me for the extra job of healing her.

  The tug of his crystal makes my head jerk up. He’s moving, flying away from here.

  No time to guess where he’s going, I’ve work to do. Grabbing the denim jacket off the floor, I slide a layer of the fabric around Azera’s limp wrists to protect her from the cold, then freeze the chain, colder and colder, until it’s as brittle as the Evatenon I iced outside.

  Yuck, don’t think about him.

  I smack the chain against the floor. It cracks and falls apart.

  Azera’s arms drop from the pipe, but she isn’t moving. I tug her onto her back and gasp. Her face is swollen and bloodied.

  Those freaking Evatenon monsters!

  I try to rouse her, though I’m not sure she’ll be able to see through those puffy eyes. Maybe she’s better off unconscious.

  Still no movement, so I pick her up.

  As I lurch into the hallway with her in my arms, I contemplate carrying this woman down five flights of rusty groaning fire escape. Not happening. We’ll take the interior stairs instead.

  Con said the Evatenon were on the first floor, so I’ll carry Azera to the second. Once there, I can bust my way out the window and take the fire escape down the last story.

  As I start down the hallway, I sense Con approaching through the sky.

  My eyes dart upward, even though there’s nothing to see, except ceiling and smoke. The stairwell is choked with it, making breathing difficult, even for my Livran lungs. Fumes burn my eyes until I can hardly see where I’m going, and I’ve no hands to feel my way down the stairs with Azera’s weight hanging over my arms like a couple of wet rice sacks.

  One floor down, and I’m close to dropping her. Propping Azera against the nearest wall, I adjust my grip and take a few guarded breaths, then cough them out and keep going.

  By the time we reach the third floor, I’m panting and wish I could call the guys for help. Azera moans and rolls her head. Her body slips. I jam her sideways into the closest wall to keep from dropping her and adjust my grip again.

  Reaching the top of the next flight, I hear the slapping sounds of shoes on the steps. Too light for an Evatenon, I pray.

  “Rae?” Con calls.

  A quiet sob escapes me. “Here!” I shout, then cough. “I’ve got Azera, but she weighs a ton.” Not really, but I’m losing strength fast.

  Con’s body takes shape through the smoke. He’s barefoot and wearing only underwear. I blink.

  He’s panting hard, shoulders bent forward. Relief floods his eyes when they meet mine, then he spots Azera, and his shock and horror flash through me.

  I glance down. Yeah, she looks a mess. No wonder he’s horrified. “She’s alive.” That’s the best news I can offer. “Is it safe down there?”

  “Yeah, we dealt with them.” He inflates his chest, willing energy back into his depleted body. “Let me take her.”

  I’m more than ready to release my charge, but the tenderness that unfurls in my chest as Con takes Azera makes my stomach churn. I shift my head away, so he won’t see my reaction, and hope he’s overwhelmed enough not to notice my jealousy.

  He hesitates. “Rae?”

  Damn it. I clench my teeth. “Go on, get her out of here. I’m right behind you.” But despite the choking smoke and burning in my eyes, I pause instead of rushing after them.

  The fire is out. The building isn’t burning down. The Evatenon have been taken care of. So I can take my time, give myself some space.

  Deep breaths. Let it go.

  I start to move again, down t
wo more flights. Con will be out of the building by now. I round the corner onto the last landing and let out a screech.

  A massive blue monster stands before me.

  Wait. Con said the Evatenon were dealt with. Am I hallucinating?

  Before I come to a conclusion, the four-armed beast swings a thick arm across my torso, knocking the breath from me. Pain lances through my core. I stumble backward, fighting for air.

  Four giant hands grab me before I hit the floor.

  I struggle against the Evatenon’s hold, mind leaping forward to the best avenue of escape. He’s blocking the stairs going down, but I could outrun him if I headed up, back to the sixth floor and out the window onto the fire escape.

  But there’s no breaking loose from his iron grasp. To freeze him, I need hands free, but his tenacious fingers straightjacket my wrists.

  I fight his death grip as he hauls me onto my tiptoes until I’m dangling. I kick and twist, but have no leverage. A third hand snakes toward my face.

  Whipping my head side to side, I flail against him, determined to avoid his mind-sucking touch, but it’s no use. A webbed hand clamps over my forehead. And this time, there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  I scream.

  Having one’s life essence sucked out of one’s head is horrendous, but maybe dying isn’t such a terrible thing. Con could still be happy without me, while I’ll never be content without him.

  And yet, the idea of some ugly alien walking around in my body, using my abilities and kidnapping my memories burns me up.

  I clench my fists and fight with all my might, but the blue hand glued to my forehead doesn’t move.

  38

  Connell

  Azera hangs in my arms, her face beaten worse than anything her father ever did. He’d avoid the visible parts of her body because he didn’t want anyone to figure out he abused his kid.

  I reach the end of the ground floor hall. One swift kick to the back doors and they fly open. The cool rush of air wins me a breath of strength.