Siren's Song: Shifting Magic Book Two

by Lysa Daley

  Baffled, I replied, “Have what? I don't have anything that belongs to you.”

  She shook her head and smirked. “You still don't know who I am, do you?” Her voice now sounded clear and confident.

  “How would I know who you are? I recognize you from downtown and Hollywood.”

  “Stupid girl.” She laughed and took a step back, changing right before my eyes. “Not very smart for Cassius McCray’s daughter.”

  Fear gripped me at the mention of my father’s name.

  She was a supernatural who’d been masking her essence to stay disguised. Her dirty face became clean, clear and bright, with fine, regal features. She suddenly looked ageless. Her ragged clothes transformed into a gown spun from gold and silver threads, along with the bright gleaming jewels in her crown that nearly blinded me. Her scrawny brown dog grew into a fierce white wolf.

  The thing that shook me to my core and sent fear down my spine was her eyes. They changed from a milky hazel-brown rimmed with red, to eyes that looked perfectly clear, colorless, as if made from ice. Lightning crackled inside her irises.

  My own eyes widened surprise. I tried to take a step backwards, but I couldn’t move. At the same time, a chill rippled through me. I felt frozen, as if the temperature had dropped fifty degrees.

  Obviously, this was no homeless woman. Nor was this a wicked witch pretending to be a human. This was powerful faerie magic. And faerie magic was almost always stronger than witch’s magic, even when they crossed the veil from faerieland into our world.

  “Who are you?” I asked, her old and powerful magic surrounding me. It was much stronger than any magic I could do. Stronger than almost any I had ever seen.

  “Ask your father.” Her icy eyes gleamed.

  It flashed through my mind that my best option might’ve been to flee. No one else was in the parking lot watching us. The image of a sparrow flickered through my brain. I could shift into a little bird and fly away.

  Somehow, she seemed to read my mind, and I suddenly found myself to be powerless to change into a bird or anything else. “I should let you change into that little birdie. Then I could put you in the gilded cage and keep you until your father gives me back what is rightfully mine.”

  This was the Winter Queen of Faeries. One of the most dangerous supernaturals alive.

  “He didn’t steal your gold” I uttered weakly. I wanted to fight back, but I remained frozen. I couldn’t even blink my eyes. She’d put some sort of unbreakable binding spell on me.

  “I can feel it.” She raised a hand as if feeling the energy around me, then slipped the other hand into my jacket. It didn’t take her long to discover the small zippered pocket. She removed the gold coin that my father had given to me for safekeeping. As she pulled it out, the dark, tarnished coin transformed into a sparkling gold piece.

  She held the coin to the light and spoke to it. “There you are, my darling.”

  The two faerie kingdoms, Winter and Summer, had once been united. But the heirs to the throne — twin sisters — fought a terrible war in order to control the single crown. Neither sister won. And faerieland was split in half. One sister ruled Summer, while the other ruled Winter.

  Despite a tentative peace, both sisters wanted to defeat the other. One way to gain more power would’ve been to rob the other sister of her wealth. To keep her fortune protected, the Winter Queen stashed her gold in the Society of Shadows’ private vaults. Many wealthy supernaturals kept their treasures in those vaults because, at least until recently, they were thought to be nearly impenetrable.

  “I don't have the rest of your gold, and my father didn't steal anything,” I insisted, looking into the icy eyes of the Winter Queen and wondering if my life was about to end. “This single coin is all the gold of my father had. We weren't even sure what kind of treasure it was. The tarnish made it almost impossible to tell.”

  She beamed proudly at her coin. “My treasure is obviously disguised when it's in this realm. Don't want any needy humans stumbling upon it.”

  Faerie gold could buy almost anything. Possessing just one coin could support someone for a lifetime. With a handful of coins, you could build the financial empire on Earth like no other. So it went without saying that your power would be almost unending if you were to steal a fortune in faerie gold.

  Of course, if you did that, eventually you’d have to answer to one of the queens. Unless you could shift the blame to someone else. Unfortunately, my father was that someone else.

  “If you say it does not belong to him, then where did you get this coin?”

  “Whoever stole your gold dropped that piece single coin.” I wanted to protect Stroud’s identity as the man who found the coin, so I added, “Someone in the vault rescued it and gave it to my father in the hopes that he would be able to solve the mystery and figure out who is trying to blame the robbery on him.”

  “Where is your father?”

  “I don’t know.” I couldn’t tell her he was in hiding; that’d make him look weak. I tried not to show my fear, but I knew by her confident grin that she saw it anyway.

  “Tell me, child, or you will die,” she said as her wolf growled.

  When I didn’t answer, more coldness gripped me from the inside out. My heart slowed and my insides began to turn to ice.

  “Fine,” she waved a hand releasing me as I fell crumpling to the ground to defrost. She’d made her point. “You have a strong will, girl. But I can see you don’t know where he is.”

  I shivered uncontrollably on the pavement.

  Her eyes flashed as she looked down at me. “I would have kill you to make a point for your father, but you showed kindness to my wolf.”

  The dog treats. That bag of dog treats had saved me.

  I managed to choke out the words, “I intend to prove he's been framed by whoever really stole your gold. And you should help me.”

  “Oh really?” she asked. “Why is that?”

  “Because that’s the only way I can clear his name and get your gold back.”

  She looked at me with cold cruel eyes. “Tell your father time is running out.” A cold breeze swept past me as the Winter Queen faded away.

  A slick patch of ice on the pavement was all that remained of her visit.

  Still shivering, I got in my car and drove back up into the canyon. When I pulled into the driveway, I was glad to see that the Radegasts had left for work. I wasn't sure exactly how I could explain what had happened; why I was shaking and my hands were still blue from my encounter with the most powerful and frosty faerie to ever live.

  Unlocking my apartment, I set the groceries on the counter, then hurried into the bathroom and started a warm shower.

  Chapter Eight

  “A kelpie?” Stryker frowned at me. “You think a phantom water horse aided and abetted my necromancing fugitive?”

  “That’s not what I said.” I slid the articles I’d printed from the library’s computer across the counter to him. “There have been several reports of a kelpie in and around the South Bay. That’s right where your guy was last seen.”

  A kelpie, both beautiful and irresistible, was a water creature that took the form of a lost black horse. When someone tried to approach or, worse, ride the beautiful horse, it dragged the unsuspecting rider to a watery death.

  “I thought I asked you to research mermaids?”

  “You didn’t ask me to do anything,” I replied. “It was that Karolina person. And I’m just being nice by showing you what I found.”

  He blinked. “What’s so special about a kelpie?”

  “If you can get a bridle on a kelpie, it will do your bidding and let you command it. Like keep you hidden from the authorities and protect you from adversaries,” I explained. “The trouble is almost no one has ever been able to slip a harness on the supernatural black horses.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know…” He sounded disappointed that this was what I’d come up with.

  “Hear me out. This particular kelpie had b
een spotted multiple times wandering near and around the area. Also, kelpie are known to make a wailing sound before a storm and can cause flooding. I read the file and both had been reported by the good residents of Huntington Beach.”

  “It’s February in Southern California,” Stryker argued. “The rainy season. The creek floods every winter. What else did you find?”

  “Sirens,” I said. “There’s a known siren population living from Malibu up to San Luis Obispo. And they’ve been in trouble with the law in recent years.”

  He shook his head again. “Sirens don’t have the power to lure a man away. They only have power over men while they’re singing, and they can only sing for a short period of time. Plus, they’re like the gypsies of the supernatural world. They’re always in trouble for committing petty crimes.”

  “But sirens are ambitious, and they’ve expanded their crimes.”

  He thought about this then shook his head. “The odds are it’s a naughty mermaid.”

  “Uh huh...”

  “What? You don’t agree?”

  It wasn’t completely unheard of for a mermaid and another form of supernatural to get romantically involved. But in these cases, it was consensual on both sides.

  “Mermaids are notoriously picky,” I said. “A fugitive, albino necromancer doesn’t seem like a good fit for a mermaid.”

  “Sometimes love is blind. What you gonna do?” he shrugged.

  “I just think you should think outside the box too.”

  He took the papers I had printed, folded them, and put them into his pocket. “I’m gonna stay inside the box for now.”

  “Okay. It’s your case.”

  “I got a contact who will get me in touch with the local merfolk authorities,” he said. “Want to come with?”

  The merpeople ruled themselves a sort of government that resembled a monarchy. They were a bit like vampires in that way. Their society was a matriarchy, so a mermaid was always their leader.

  “I told you I’m not doing fieldwork anymore.”

  “Come on. What kind of scholarly witch passes up the chance to meet a real mermaid queen?”

  “They prefer to be called regents,” I corrected him.

  “See! Don’t try to deny it. You’re already into this idea.”

  Not many humans, magical or non-mags, had witnessed interactions with the merfolk. It was tempting.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass this time.”

  “Okay fine.” He turned to go. “You’ll regret it.”

  After he left, I got back to work. When I’d arrived at the library at 5pm, it was quiet. Mr. Morty wasn’t around. Only his paper doll assistants were busily shelving books.

  “Hey, guys,” I asked, unsure if they could talk or not. “Where’s the boss?”

  They both looked at me, at each other, then went back to shelving books.

  “Okey-doke. Nice talking to you.”

  After waiting around for a half hour, I’d found two research requests sitting on the circulation desk: one from an agent asking about the historical value of leprechaun pots and another wanted instruction on the proper defense against a specter.

  While I waited for the boss to come back, I got to work on the research requests. Neither of the two requests took long. Then, I got to work finishing Karolina’s request.

  An hour later, I was summarizing a detailed account on how to tame a kelpie, when a voice said, “Put your hands up, you floozy!”

  I looked up to see a very old woman pointing a very large gun at me.

  “Okay, okay!” Shocked, I dropped the book I was holding and my hands shot up in the air. Was she here to rob the library? “My hands are up. But I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

  “No mistake.” She jabbed the gun closer to me. She was a tiny, frail woman who looked close to 100 years old. The soft glow of fading magic came off her in weak waves, and she had slightly pointed elven ears. “I know it was you.”

  Taking a closer look I realized she wasn’t pointing a real gun at me. Rather, it was a flare gun, like the one my mother used to scare away the foxes on our land when I was a kid. It probably wouldn’t kill me, but a red hot flare might’ve done some serious damage. And if she missed, she could’ve set the whole library on fire.

  Using my best calm voice, I replied, “You know it was me… doing what?”

  “The floozy who’s trying to steal my man.”

  “Who’s your man?”

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “My Morty! That’s who.”

  “Are you Mrs. AuClaire?” I asked.

  “You know damn well who I am.”

  This was Mr. Morty’s wife, the woman he had spoken so glowingly about. The woman he’d rescued from the werebear. Why in the world did she think I was trying to steal him from her?

  “Ma’am, I just started working here two days ago. I promise you I’m not trying to steal your husband.”

  Over her shoulder, Mr. Stroud casually glided through the main library entrance. Even though he could see the gun, he didn’t react to it. “Well, hello there, Maybelle.”

  “Good evening, Vinny,” she said, not taking her eyes off me.

  “What brings you all the way here?” he asked.

  “This chicky is trying to take my man from me.”

  “Lacey?” He gestured to me. “No, that can’t be true. Your Morty loves you and would never leave you for a mere assistant librarian.”

  Thanks a lot, Mr. Stroud.

  “You’re probably right.” She nodded, appraising me more skeptically. “But she is sort of a pretty little thing.”

  “Let’s put the gun down for now.” Stroud slowly approached Maybelle. “If she really did steal your husband, then we’ll take her outside and I’ll let you shoot her.”

  “You promise?” Maybelle asked, lowering the barrel of the gun a few inches.

  “I promise,” he agreed. “But I’d hate to damage any of the library materials, especially since Morty has worked so hard to get everything organized just so.”

  “That is true…” Her conviction wavered.

  “Now what’s this about?” he asked.

  “My Morty didn’t come home last night. And he isn’t answering my calls. He always answers my calls.”

  “When did you last see him?” Stroud asked.

  “Yesterday morning, before he went to work. We had our poached quail eggs and mulberry seed toast, as usual. He always makes me my Earl Grey tea with a touch of cream. Then he left and didn’t come home.”

  “I don’t think Lacey had anything to do with that. She just met Mr. Morty yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “This is only my second day working here.”

  “Wednesday?” she repeated, confused. The barrel of the gun drooped even farther.

  “Why don’t we all have a nice cup of tea and figure out exactly what’s going on here,” Stroud said. “I’m pretty sure Morty keeps a lovely stash of orange pekoe in his office.”

  Mrs. Morty hesitated, like she was being tricked. She raised the gun again and I thought I might get a faceful of flare.

  “But you still promise I can shoot her outside if she stole my Morty?” she asked, obviously considering his offer.

  He gently put his hand on the pistol and pulled it to the side so it wasn’t pointing at me anymore. “I promise.”

  She handed him the gun and turned away. A security guard came dashing in and took the gun from Mr. Stroud.

  “Tea does sound lovely,” Mrs. Morty said, allowing Stroud to lead her toward the circulation office. “I’ve been so worried.”

  “Alright then.” Mr. Stroud held out his arm for her to take.

  Five minutes later, we were all sitting at the small tea table inside the circulation office. Maybelle Mortimer explained that her husband had gone to work yesterday, as usual, but had never come home. He had not called, nor left her any sort of message.

  “What makes you think he’s run off with another woman?” Mr. S
troud asked, setting a plate of tea biscuits down.

  “Because I found these in his jacket pocket.” She picked up her old-fashioned pocketbook, pulled out a manila envelope, and handed it to Mr. Stroud.

  He removed a hotel room key and a delicate gold necklace with a blue crystal charm hanging from it. The necklace still had a price tag on it reading $42.

  “Maybe he bought that as a gift for you?” I suggested.

  She shook her head. “Blue was my sister’s favorite color. And my sister was killed by vampires years ago. I never wear blue out of respect for her. So he would never buy me something with a blue crystal.”

  Mr. Stroud examined the plastic card. “This looks like a room key for a hotel.” He turned it over in his hand. “Have you ever been to the Seahorse Hotel and Cafe in Malibu?”

  Maybelle started to cry. “No. I haven’t been to Malibu in years. He’s fallen in love with another woman. A beachy woman. Probably wears a bikini.”

  The idea of 250-year-old Mr. Morty running off with a young bathing beauty didn’t seem very plausible.

  Mr. Stroud put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Now, now, I don’t think we should go jumping to conclusions.”

  “He’s just like his brother. Being an unfaithful scoundrel runs in the family, I guess.” She sniffed and wiped away a tear.

  “His brother ran off with another woman?”

  “Ran off with a water sprite or something,” she explained. “Left his wife and fifteen kids all alone.”

  “Just because his brother is a cad doesn’t mean Morty did the same thing. But I am concerned that he didn’t come home last night. Lacey, go check his office and see if he left anything that might help.”

  As Mr. Stroud continued to console poor Maybelle, I walked over to the closed office door that had a sign that read Head Librarian. I opened the door and turned on the light. Everything in the small office was perfectly organized. No papers were left out on his desk.

  I walked around to read the leather-bound calendar that sat open at the head of his desk, with notes neatly written recording his meetings. Most of the notes were about internal questions or interoffice events.