Odd Melody
Virginia Nelson
Odd Melody
Odd Series
By: Virginia Nelson
Published by Virginia Nelson
© 2014 Virginia Nelson
ISBN-13: 978-1500850418
ISBN-10: 1500850411
Cover Art by Virginia Nelson
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Note from the author: All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, vampires, organizations, fog monsters, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To Jordan Brown, for faith.
.
To Danny, for Jeopardy and the Harbor Hammer.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Without the patience and unlimited supplies of coffee offered by my children and friends, I would not be able to finish a word of writing, so special thanks go out to Justice, David and Ashton, & Michelle and Jordan Brown. Heather Chandler read the story as it progressed (even including the outline at some points), so thanks for being a voracious reader.
Thanks to (in random order) Justy, Jfab, Henchie, Pixie for helping me write a realistic Vickie. Pieces of you guys are stuck all over her. Love ya.
Lots of love to Joanie and Danny Ashley—for food, love, Jeopardy watching and stories. Without Danny Ashley, there would have been no Harbor Hammer. There apparently was a ‘Hammer’ historically; however the original story is a far cry from the one my imagination generated when he mentioned it to me.
Thanks to my crit partners and betas for so many hours of reading.
Thanks to Christine Jacobs, for believing in this story (and me) before even I did.
Thanks to Tony and the Schommers. Tony for loving this story and reminding me constantly it would make a great movie and the Schommers for a lovely home and a safe place to raise my kids. (And an office. Because YAY I have an office!!)
Thanks to my writing groups, AWFUL and MUSE. Go get em, y’all.
Thanks to those I didn’t mention but who supported this story and me. Love you all. xoxo - Virg
Odd Melody
Janie Smith is ready to get her life in order. She just needs to control her powers, feed without killing someone, deal with a sick witch, a vampire boyfriend committed by fate to another, and an ancient serial killer’s ghost hidden inside an unsuspecting human. Oh, and she must also put up with Queen Mab’s unwanted elfin fiancé while dodging Chance, her supposed soul mate, while helping her daughter adjust to life after divorce. Seriously, not a big deal.
CHAPTER One
My name is Janie Smith and everybody who is anybody in the world of the strange wants me—and by association, my kid—dead.
Merry frigging Christmas.
I tapped my toe on the dash and considered the boats docked in the harbor, all tarped against the snowstorm Dick Goddard predicted would hit today. According to my friend Julia, the Wiccan stripper, Dick was right. Ha, ha. The stripper said Dick was right.
Okay, so that one was off even for me.
While I played with the straw from my cherry slushie, I adamantly hoped that the school bus would beat the lift bridge. Chances were it wouldn’t—my daughter, Vickie, and I would be sitting there, staring at the harbor for another half an hour, and she would be late for school. With my luck lately, I had a better chance of Santa getting stuck in the chimney we didn’t have than catching the damned bus. I stuck the slushie in my cup holder without taking a single slurp, which was probably for the best. Leftover from the day before, the bacteria count was probably nearly as high as the calorie count.
If the most dangerous thing in my life at that point was the slushie, I would have been okay, but as the last siren, I had worse problems than your average almost-forty-year-old. Mia, my best friend, was a witch and I am dating a vampire. My mom? She rules the fairy kingdom with a well-manicured fist I feared would soon descend on me. Things had gotten a bit complicated in my life lately.
I hadn’t yet figured out how to tell my mother I came into my power and decided to date a vampire. The last part wouldn’t sit well with her since vampires killed the whole siren species, including my dad. So far, my method of dealing with her was avoidance. Sadly, I knew all too well that in a town the size of Ashtabula, Ohio, my strategy wouldn’t work for long.
Queen Mab—or my dearest Mom—expected nothing less than perfection from her minions and me. She’d never done anything less than perfect, well, except creating me. I’ve never been perfect and, by breathing, represent the only thing she ever flubbed.
My boyfriend of the past week could be described as perfect. Vance looked like a European rock star, kissed like a…really good kisser, and when we did it, I have been known to literally hit the roof. A small smile played around the corners of my lips at the thought, and I glanced at Vickie, glad she couldn’t read my mind. The things he and I did, a mother should not do. But they sure were fun.
Vickie looked a lot like me, prior to the changes wrought by coming into my full siren power. Hair like dark honey framed her large blue eyes and distinctly elfin features—all from my mother’s side of the family. She looked so sweet and had no idea what I went through at times to keep the glitter in her azure eyes safe.
Less than twenty-four-hours before, for instance, a psychotic man claiming to be my soul mate told me my daughter had been kidnapped. I turned into a full siren in a feeble, and not-well-thought-out, attempt to rescue her. She didn’t know any of it and I hoped she never would.
Vickie glanced up as if she sensed my eyes on her and glared. I smiled, and she rolled her eyes. A flick of the dial on the dashboard sent heat pumping from the vents. Even though the sun still shone brightly, an Alberta Clipper moving in from Canada brought a wash of arctic air which made standing outside for even a few minutes unbearable. Then again, gas prices made sitting in my car and running the heater at a stationary position equally painful.
In the distance, I caught a flash of yellow, and I leaned toward my daughter for a kiss. After granting me a quick, obligatory peck, she smacked me in the face with her backpack as she spun to battle with the car door. As it was unintentional and she had to hurry, I let it go.
“Be good, and have a great day!” I used my best soccer mom tone.
Vickie looked unimpressed. “Try not to eat too much MSG.”
I smirked as she jumped out of the car and made a dash for the bus. If she hadn’t been outside, the bus would not have stopped. When I was a kid, the bus stopped. It honked. It waited. Not now. Now the driver paused and kept on a-rollin’. Nobody wasted gas, not even the school buses. Shutting off my car, I burrowed into my coat to make the short jog back to Odd Stuff, Mia’s store. I paused just inside the doorway, as I always did, to inhale the incense and candle scented air. I loved the smell of Mia’s store. It relaxed me while most of my life did not.
Each day provided a new beginning, though. I promised myself a fresh start and ignored the niggling little voice that whis
pered I had told myself the same thing last week. Last week, I worried where I would find a job and how I could help Vickie adjust to life after divorce. Ah, the good old days.
This week I had to figure out how to be a siren, how to have a vamp boyfriend, how not to get killed while working for the FBI and help Vickie adjust after divorce.
Somehow, the list had grown rather than shrinking.
I needed to get cracking on my to-do list. Usually a massive infusion of coffee jump started Mondays and, as I had only ingested about half a pot at that point, I headed upstairs for another cup. With luck, Mia would be awake, but I didn’t hold out much hope of that. As I plodded up the stairs, I scratched absentmindedly at my wig. Unfortunately, when I made the change from whatever I had been before to full siren, my hair altered dramatically from dirty, dishwater blond to an unearthly silver. Since walking around with moonlit hair painted an even bigger bull’s-eye on my forehead, I purchased a wig of my natural hair color yesterday. It itched abominably.
Behind the pink door at the head of the spiral staircase, I heard off-key singing. It took me a minute to place the tune. Ahhh, Owl City, Fireflies.
“It’s hard to say that I’d rather stay awake when I’m asleep, cause everything is never as it seems.” Mia’s head tilted back as she belted the lyrics and I cringed.
“No, it’s not.” I cocked a hip on the counter and waited for my presence to register with my roommate. I didn’t have to wait long.
She whirled around. Perfect ebony curls bounced as she spun, and her eyes sparkled as the hypnotic lyrics pulsed through the shop. I studied my eclectic best friend in her white tunic style blouse and floaty skirt in shades of emerald and azure—Mia’s usual witchy wear. Sparkles accented the outfit including bangles at the wrists, some girlie thing at her hips, and necklaces hanging nearly to her waist.
In comparison, I looked like a boy. Jeans with holes in the knees, a tee shirt topped with a hoodie big enough to fit two football players created my comfortable look—a far cry from Mia’s feminine attire.
“Leave the singing to me from now on, witch.” A wave of unreasonable and uncalled for jealousy washed over me, leaving me with little more than a grumble for a voice. I wished I could be as girly as her sometimes. Not often, but sometimes.
She glared. “At least my voice doesn’t make men go mad.”
“I wouldn’t place bets on that. Go public. My money’s on you.”
“Ha ha. And here I was going to offer you a cup of coffee.”
Shifting my weight to another leg, I waggled my eyebrows and tried to look hopeful. “My kingdom for your Maxwell House?”
“Cheap aren’t you?” Mia poured me a mug. “Vickie catch the bus today?”
“Yup.” I looked at the mug curiously. Weird symbols circled it. Maybe runes? I sipped carefully. It tasted safe. You never can tell with a witch.
“You meet with the FBI lady today?” She either didn’t notice my coffee mug study or discreetly ignored it.
“Yup.”
“Monosyllables…up late?” Practically purring, Mia peered at me out of the corner of her eye.
“I am not gratifying you with a sick rehashing of my sex life.”
She smirked. “Since when?”
Just then, Sven swept into the room in a cloud of Cool Water for Him, wearing his favorite blazer—leopard print. He was one of a kind. In deference to the weather, he sported a pink fuzzy scarf and matching mittens. His tee shirt of the day read, Ask me about the Other Side. All this caught my eye because, aside from the fashion train wreck, he stood nearly seven feet tall. The man was a modern gentle giant. “Morning, Sven.” I nodded in greeting.
He slouched in the entrance and leaned on the wall. “Morning.” He spoke through a yawn so enormous, it stretched his cavern-like jaw to its limits. A person could lose a two year old in that mouth.
Right then, the theme song to Gilligan’s Island began to play. I grabbed my cell phone and picked it up as it sang, abo-o-ard this tiny ship.
“You gotta change that.” Sven did an exaggerated eye roll. “That is just wrong.”
I rolled my eyes back at him and mouthed Never. I grinned at his disgusted expression and used my business voice to chirp, “Good morning!”
“Janie?” I recognized FBI agent Shawna Pierson’s voice immediately. My new boss, Shawna, offered me seven hundred bucks a week to look into the cases which struck her as weird, so I’d snatched up the job. The X-Files nature of the position appealed to me. I am Sculley. Yeah.
“Hi, Shawna. What’s up?”
“I am going to have to bump up our meeting, if that is okay with you. I have this interoffice lunch thing. Can we get together for coffee instead?”
“Let me check my schedule.” I stared at the cupboard for a minute and Mia tried not to laugh at me. I glanced at Sven, nearly falling asleep on his feet. That is weird.
“Uh, yeah, I’m free. When do you want to meet?” I fiddled with the rune markings on my coffee mug to occupy my eyes and hands instead of staring at Sven.
“How long would it take you to get to the Jefferson Diner?”
“Fifteen minutes?” I glanced out the window. A few random flakes had started falling, but the snow had yet to get serious.
“Great! I’ll see you there.”
Mia sneezed as I hung up.
“Bless you. I have to go to Jefferson and meet with Shawna now rather than for lunch and—”
“That sucks.” Mia sniffled and reached across the counter to pull a tissue from the box. “At least before, you were reaming the government for lunch.” She sneezed again.
“Bless you.” I straightened and pulled my keys out of my pocket.
“You better go run a brush through your wig. It’s a rats’ nest.” Again, Sven yawned deeply.
“It can’t be.” It was bad enough I had to wear the wig; it didn’t seem fair that I would have to look like crap while doing so. I shook my head, denying the criticism. “I just bought it yesterday.”
“I don’t know how you did it, but it’s a wreck.”
I blew at the front of it, knowing exactly what I had done. My scratching probably matted the damned thing. “Do you think I should just lose it and go with my siren look for the FBI anyway?”
“Might as well.” Mia rubbed her nose with a tissue. “It isn’t like that half-ass disguise is going to work for long anyway. We aren’t cartoon characters or superheroes, you idiot. You can’t don a pair of dork glasses or a wig and hope that no one notices that you’re Superman.”
I gave her a dirty look and huffed out of the room. Sven shuffled after me. “Ignore her. She’s a raving bitch when she gets sick.”
“I know.” I looked at him in the mirror. “Is she right? Is it really that bad of a get up?”
“No. You aren’t trying to hide big buff muscles in a suit, just pretending your hair is a different color. If the truth comes out, big deal. Say you went punk. If people find out you lost weight, say it was Jenny Craig. It’s the two thousands, not the medieval era. No one is going to look at you and gasp, ‘O-mi-god-she-is-the-last-siren’ if they notice you have silver hair and lost a few pounds.”
I sighed and looked in the mirror. He was right. For the most part, modern cosmetics could explain my transformation. I yanked off the offending wig, pitched it in the sink, and ran my fingers through my short cap of hair. It glowed silvery white and framed my narrow face, which looked more elfin than before, but that was bone structure. I couldn’t do a hell of a lot about genetics. My eyes reflected the colors of the sea, blue for the most part with hints of green and turquoise. The week before, I wore contacts to spice up my mundane eyes, but since the change it was all me. My skin, when I fed—long story, tell you later—shone like pearls, but as I had not consumed anything other than coffee and junk food recently, it was a reasonably normal color. I didn’t look very predatory at the moment. All good things. I congratulated myself. Probably no one would try to kill me. Probably no one on the day side w
ould even sense I had come to power or know that I existed.
I hoped.
Too many conjectures, even for me, bounced in my head, but I didn’t have time to worry about them. I had told Shawna I would be in Jefferson in fifteen minutes. Jefferson is a fifteen minutes’ drive south of Ashtabula, and I had blown a good five staring at myself in the mirror. I looked at Sven, who leaned on the wall, eyes half-closed. What is with him?
I shrugged, punched him in the arm to rouse him, and grabbed my coat and car keys. I yelled a goodbye to a crabby Mia, and got a, Later, Wonder Bitch, in reply.
On the drive to Jefferson, I sang along to the radio in an attempt to keep warm. The temperatures, already frigid, kept dropping. The heat kicked on and pumped out delicious warmth by the time I turned off Route Eleven. Jewel came on with Have a Little Faith in Me.
I sang along quite happily until I realized that Jewel and I had company. Looking like a forbidden dessert plopped into my passenger seat, Chance had appeared without my notice. I hit the off button and Chance sang alone for a minute.
“I been lovin’ you for such a long, long time and all you gotta do is have a little faith in me!” He wailed the lyrics rather than actually harmonizing.
I glared at him.
“What?” His eyebrows rose innocently. As if Chance could ever be innocent of anything. “Good song, not a bad cover.”
“And you are here why?”
“You didn’t miss me?” He flipped in his seat to face me.
“No.”
“Where are we going?”
“You are going back to wherever you were before you beamed into my Focus.” The waver in my tone probably undid my attempt to sound firm.
“It isn’t beaming.” He glowered at me, as if disappointed I wasn’t thrilled at his entrance. Not that Chance’s tendency to pop by unannounced ever thrilled me, but he seemed hopeful I would magically change my mind about it.
Odd Melody (Odd Series Book 2) Page 1
