by Krista Walsh
“You say this after spending your entire life in what I can only imagine was deep isolation?” she asked, and the softness of the question tugged at the pain that had taken up permanent residence in Gabe’s chest from the time he was five years old and his mother had decided it was best to keep him out of school.
“You’re not wrong,” he said, not seeing any point in arguing with her perceptiveness. “But that doesn’t change my stance on the subject. I am what I am because of some bad luck in my genetic line, not because of anything humans did to me. I’ve made my way through life the best way I know how, and watching people was a big part of it. It taught me to become a better man. My Gorgon tendencies might not lie too deep beneath the surface, but I can control them. So, yes, I will put myself out there to help people where I can.”
Allegra stared at him, her gold-flecked eyes boring into his soul. After a moment, she laughed. “I should have known by the way you spoke in Jermaine’s room that this is the direction you would take. And I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised to cross paths with you, although I confess I thought it would be the sorceress again. It seems to have become my lot in life to help those with whom I swore never to reconnect.”
A passing curiosity floated through Gabe’s mind about what had caused Allegra to work with Daphne, but he concentrated on his own issue and leaned closer. “So you’ll help me?”
Allegra’s gaze traveled up his chest and over his face to lock with the centers of his sunglasses. Gabe bore her scrutiny, watching as her eyes dulled to their usual rich brown. She tilted her head, considering him. He held his breath.
“My philosophy in life is never to get involved with other people’s troubles,” she said, finally. Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “But in this instance, I suppose it would be in my best interests to remove this singing thorn before it pricks me. So yes, for the time being, I believe I will. But only as it pleases me.”
Gabe opened his mouth to thank her, but she spoke over him. “If she is responsible for the weather changes as you suspect, let us consider that as one more reason why we should remove her from the city. The roads have made it impossible for me to work, which is most inconvenient.” Her complaint ended in a growl. She took a sip of her champagne and brought her legs up underneath her. The collar of her robe gaped open as she settled, and Gabe averted his gaze. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman, after all.
It was his brother who had taught him to peek before he looked away.
The memory pinched his heart and he brushed the crook of his finger over his lips to hide the tension created by the sudden rush of emotion. He cursed this siren once again for bringing up memories he’d believed were long forgotten.
“What do you know about sirens?” Allegra asked, bringing him back to the present.
Gabe frowned. “Not much. Just what Mom used to read to us as bedtime stories. But even those stories are warped by mythology.”
Allegra nodded. “The mythology is not far from wrong. These women are soul-devourers, although not in the same way I am. They consume a man’s soul as it leaves his body at the moment of his death, which is usually by drowning. A more indirect feeding process. But, just as my process can be used for recreation instead of simple feeding, so can the sirens’ games. They call, men come, men drown, the sirens laugh. Or feed. Or dance over the bloated corpses. That depends on the mood of the particular siren in question.”
“Why are the men found naked?” he asked. The question had bothered him ever since he examined the latest corpse in the snow.
Allegra’s lips twitched. “Likely that was the victim’s own choice after a subtle suggestion from your siren. Just as a bird flaps its wings and displays its colors, men in the presence of a siren will often strip to nothing to present themselves as a worthy offering before they jump into the water.”
Gabe’s throat closed at the image Allegra presented. He set his glass down, the lingering sweetness on his tongue degrading into an acidic burn.
“Sirens and mermaids are similar in that regard,” she continued, “but unlike mermaids, sirens do not need to live in the water. They prefer to stay close to it, but as long as their access is readily available, they can live quite a distance away. I knew a siren who preferred large whirlpool bathtubs and requested that her dinner scrub her back before she fed.”
Gabe groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you have to be so specific?”
Allegra smirked, and the gold flecks danced in her eyes. “And here I thought you wanted my help.” Then she sobered. “Like all of us, the more she feeds, the stronger she will become. Right now she has managed to ensnare men within a certain area, drawing them to the harbor. If she goes unstopped, people will be able to hear her from anywhere in the city.” She gazed out her window, as if imagining it, then looked back at Gabe. “If she learns that her song does not have any effect on you, and she sees you as a potential threat, she might try a different tactic. She might beg you for help or seduce you the old-fashioned way. Failing that, she will attack.”
Gabe readjusted himself on the couch cushion, growing uncomfortable with the way Allegra’s gaze scanned over his body, as though her mention of seduction had dropped new thoughts into her head.
He swallowed hard, then asked, “What sort of physical feats are they capable of?”
Allegra laughed, her white teeth flashing in the dim light of the living room. The amusement that creased the corners of her eyes filled Gabe with a deep longing to lean in close to her and kiss her temples, smoothing down her mirth until he was the only thing on her mind.
He gave himself a shake and listened as she said, “Apparently the Gorgons in your family history failed to pass the juicy tales down the generations. Sirens are fierce. They appear beautiful, but beneath their façades are sharp fangs and lethal claws that could put out even your lovely eyes.”
Gabe narrowed said eyes in her direction. Jermaine had once referred to them the same way, and ever since, he’d become wary of anyone who paid undue attention to what lay hidden beneath his mirrored lenses.
Allegra read through him and chuckled. “Do not worry, Gabriel. I have no interest in seeing them for myself. While I hope one day to be remembered with great statues in my honor, I have no wish to become one.”
Gabe relaxed the muscles he hadn’t realized he’d tensed and settled into the leather.
“So what do you suggest I do?” he asked.
Allegra raised her shoulder. “That depends on what you hope to accomplish. If you choose to destroy her, you could cast your gaze on her. That would be the fastest, most convenient solution.”
He shuddered inwardly at the thought of intentionally turning anyone to stone. He shoved his memories away and focused on the conversation. “You might be right, but I think I need to know more first. You mentioned sirens owning houses with bathtubs, so why is this one choosing to live under the water? What does she want? And, gods forbid, are there more of them? There are a few questions I’d like answered before I get rid of her.”
“You could always simplify things and ask her,” Allegra suggested. “I imagine the reasons could be quite enlightening. Or not, since it seems likely that the woman has simply gone mad. Of course, in order to hear the answers, you’d need to listen to her. Still, it might be worth the risk.”
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. The skin was warm from his repeated scratching, and he tucked his hand between his knees before he rubbed the area raw.
“I don’t see how you expect that to work. I don’t intend to go anywhere near her without some high quality earplugs.”
“They would certainly be a good start if you must approach her. I would also make sure you are heavily armed. No matter what you have planned, she might have other ideas. You should be prepared for the worst.”
Like creating a new nightmare. Gabe’s stomach clenched at the prospect of having to use his gaze on the siren. If she was as twisted in her mind as Allegra suggested she might be, turning her t
o stone would have serious consequences for him as well as for her. So many years of living under water — all of her memories would become his, as though he were living Rick’s fate for himself.
He swallowed hard to clear the taste of river water creeping along the insides of his cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said, and rose to his feet. “You’ve been a great help.”
She smiled and trailed after him as he walked to the door. When he reached it, she ran her fingers over the collar of his coat, and Gabe’s heart bounced against his ribs.
“I wish you luck,” she said. “Be sure to let me know how everything goes.” Her smile grew. “But maybe with a phone call next time?”
She pushed him into the hallway and closed the door in his face.
***
Gabe’s blood sizzled with the lingering effect of Allegra’s touch, and he took a longer stroll than necessary to cool off. The snow-clogged streets made the walk an uphill battle, but the burn in his legs proved a pleasant distraction from the one under his skin. After a few minutes, his heartbeat slowed.
He looked around and found himself on the corner a familiar side street. He’d walked this way often over the last eight months, sometimes not getting past the corner, other times walking the street up and down until the shop owners shot him suspicious looks, not trusting the man in the trench coat and round, reflective sunglasses.
Tonight, he paused, considered, then started up the street. Questions about the siren fluttered through his head, much like the pattern of the snow falling around him, and just for a moment, he wanted to ground himself in something solid.
Or lose myself in yet another internal debate, he berated himself.
Nothing in his life was as straightforward as he wished it could be.
He passed darkened storefronts and closed restaurants flanked by unlit streetlights. The glow of light from the street ahead, where the power had been restored, offered enough visibility for Gabe’s sharp vision to make up the rest. He kicked through the snow until he stopped in front of a specific shop.
The blue-gray paint appeared black in the gloom, but through the snow he could make out the curling white script of the store’s name — Yggdrasil Books. A faint spark of candlelight glimmered through the large bay window, but no matter how hard he peered into the depths of the store or from what angle, he couldn’t see whoever sat inside.
He pictured Vera’s red hair curtained over her face as she read a thick book by candlelight. She lived upstairs, so he often spotted her through the window, relaxing in the shop after closing.
As always when he walked by, he imagined knocking on the door and speaking with her. But even in his fantasies, he wound up tongue-tied as she closed the door in his face, not interested in hearing a repeat of his invitation to have a drink with him. Inexperience stripped him of his confidence, and he didn’t want to deal with her rejection. While he only dreamed of what might be, the possibilities were endless. If she turned him away, he would again be alone without the hope of that ever changing. He’d risk his body over his heart any day. His body would either heal or die, but his heart could be damaged beyond repair.
Besides, he thought. She might not even be worth it. He knew he’d put her on a pedestal out of desperation. It was a distinct possibility he’d built her up only to have the truth crush him.
Still, one day I might pop in to say hi, he thought, and laughed at his own cowardice. He could talk himself into going to the river, but gods help him if he wanted to speak with a woman he found attractive.
Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he left the store behind him and headed toward home. Before he’d taken four steps, he was stopped by a piercing scream.
7
Gabe jerked his head toward a second scream as it cut through the snow-muted night. For a moment there was no other sound, and then a third scream.
His blood raced with the possibility of a fight, and he pushed forward through the snow. When he rounded the corner, he passed into an area where the power had come back on, and he needed a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare.
Snow clung to his calves as he hurried, and he finally drew to a halt at the mouth of an alley tucked beside the closed hardware store.
In the shadows, Gabe made out a man towering over a woman, her purse in his hand and a knife at her throat. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her nostrils were flared in panic. Gabe smelled the man’s sweat and horrible aftershave, and red crept into the edges of his vision.
He cast his gaze down the road. Farther along the street, a few other huddled shapes slipped in and out of pools of orange light as they climbed over snowbanks to walk their dogs or work off their dinners. No one’s attention drifted in their direction. Either they hadn’t heard the screams, or they didn’t want to get involved.
Gabe squeezed his hands into fists and stepped into the alley. Without saying a word, he grabbed the guy by the collar and tossed him into the snow. The woman, too stunned to move, pressed herself against the wall.
Gabe’s hands shook as he turned his back on her and moved in on the man on the ground. The mugger swung out a leg to catch Gabe’s ankle, but in the heat of his anger and the cold touch of the snow, Gabe didn’t feel the blow. When the man rolled onto his stomach, Gabe caught the flash of the knife in the streetlight. The mugger swung his arm toward him. Gabe sidestepped, leaving the blade to sweep through the snowbank, then he kicked at the man’s wrist so the knife skittered away on the icy ground. The mugger scrambled backward, but didn’t get far before Gabe wrapped his fingers around the front of his coat and lifted him in a smooth motion to slam him against the wall.
“It takes a special kind of coward to go after a woman when the streets are empty and the weather’s bad. I can only guess you didn’t think you’d manage to get the better of her on clearer roads. By the look of her, she could take you.”
The man spat in Gabe’s face, but Gabe didn’t flinch. He’d had worse things thrown at him. Warmth surged through his blood and his arms longed to throw punches in the bastard’s face until he crumpled in a weeping heap at his feet.
“How about you let me go and we forget about this,” the man said, but any effect of command was lost in the tremor of his words. “It’s a bad night and I need to eat, too, huh? I was just looking for enough cash to grab some food.”
“Maybe you would have had more luck if you’d asked nicely.”
“Let me go.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow and through the haze of his rage, he grinned. “What did I just say? Ask. Nicely.”
“P-Please.”
Gabe threw him toward the end of the alley and stepped on the knife’s blade when the mugger appeared ready to make a grab for it. He widened his shoulders and lurched forward, and the man turned tail and fled down the street.
Gabe shook his head and bent to pick up the knife, sliding it into his coat pocket. Then he stretched his hands out in front of him and watched his trembling fingers as he breathed through his Gorgon anger and waited for it to settle back into his veins. When his hands finally fell still, he stretched them out until his knuckles cracked. The cold wind struck the sweat on his brow, and he tilted his head back to cool down.
“Thank you,” a quiet voice said behind him.
He turned to find the woman standing against the wall, her purse clutched to her chest, her wide eyes darting around the alley. He hadn’t realized she was still there.
“My pleasure,” he said, flashing her a smile. “Anything I can do to stay warm in this snow.”
She smiled back and brushed her gloved hands across her cheek to tuck a lock of blond hair behind her ear.
“I guess it was kind of stupid of me to be walking alone on a night like this.”
Gabe shrugged. “In my opinion, you have a right to walk through town whenever you want. It’s scum like him who should learn better manners.”
She stepped forward into the light, and Gabe was caught by the paleness of her eyes. “With you wat
ching the streets, maybe they’ll start.” She extended her hand. “Lila.”
“Gabe,” he said, accepting the offered hand with a brisk shake.
From the way she stared at him, he got the sense that she was hoping he would do something or say something else, but words escaped him.
He could carry on a casual conversation with a woman just fine, but anything beyond that was out of his comfort zone. There had never been any point. Any chance of intimacy created a risk he couldn’t afford, and he couldn’t explain the truth without seeing the expression of horror in her eyes. Or disbelief. Or occasionally disgust if she thought he was spewing some pathetic lie in order to get rid of her. He’d only tried that method once, back in his early teens — back when he still had some kind of hope for a semi-normal life.
Relationships were too complicated.
For his solitary existence, the only solution he’d found was to spend time with women who didn’t care if he kept his glasses on and never looked them in the eye. Nothing deep, nothing romantic — just an occasional indulgence to scratch an itch.
To this stranger who continued to stare at him expectantly, all he said was, “Hope you have a better rest of the night.”
He gave her a final smile and carried on his way.
His arms felt shaky as the last of his adrenaline drained out of him, and all he wanted now was to go home and crack open a beer. But if he wanted any heat in the apartment tonight, or any food in his stomach, he needed to make a few stops.
The extra walk worked to cool his blood even as the exertion worked his muscles. By the time he came across an open gas station near the city limits, he had bound up his anger and was able to laugh at the ridiculousness of his evening.
The young woman inside the gas station, probably no more than twenty, looked bored out of her skull. She sat on a high stool behind the counter with her feet propped up on a shelf out of sight and her glazed eyes glued to the small TV screen in the corner.
