Lorelei.
There it is again, barely more than a whisper on the wind. Calling me back to the water.
I take a step before what’s left of my self-preservation kicks in. “No.” I don’t mean to say the word aloud, but it settles something inside me. I am not some weak-willed creature to be drawn in by curiosity. Whatever has the power to reach me here on dry land is something I want no part of. “Get the fuck out of my head.” That’s where I must be hearing him. There’s no way he’s actually speaking to me on the wind.
Whoever he is.
I have something you want.
I freeze. The faintest tugging in my stomach dials it up a notch. It never really goes away, even when I’m sequestered in the bookstore and surrounded by earth instead of sea. That tug tells me the exact direction my necklace—my powers—lay. I never get more than a hint of water that’s such a dark blue, it might as well be black, or an intense pressure that conveys exactly how far from the surface my necklace is kept. Too deep for humans and their machines.
Too deep for me.
I start for the beach before I can think better of it. For over two years, I’ve been missing a vital piece of myself, walking around as only half of a whole. I might not be completely helpless in my current state, but I’m easy pickings for any supernatural creature who decides to gun for me. Last night more than proved that the sea will take me, one way or another
It might as well be on my terms.
Lightning flashes, bright enough that spots dance over my vision for the several seconds of silence before thunder rattles my bones. The storm isn’t directly overhead yet, but it will be soon. I’m a damn fool if I’m still out by that point.
I yank off my boots and socks and toss them onto the beach just out of reach of the waves coming faster and faster. One step, maybe two, and I’ll be submerged up to my ankles. My finding power will spiral out of me, instinctively seeking the one item I want more than anything in this goddamn world.
Not my sisters.
Not even the portal home.
No, what I want more than anything is to be whole again.
I should just turn around and go home. Whoever this voice belongs to, they mean nothing good for me. There’s a proper way to reach out, and it’s not by drawing a finless one of the merfolk into the ocean and nearly drowning her human body. Stepping into the ocean will boost what little magic I have left, and it will create a clear channel for him to speak to me.
I take that first step, and then the second. My power streaks out into the deep and then rebounds, slamming me with a vision of my necklace. It’s different than it’s been in the past. Barely any pressure to speak of. Blue-gray water that stretches for miles and miles and miles around without encountering land. A vaguely fishy taste on my tongue.
Tentacles.
And then his voice is in my head, curling through me in a way that’s just shy of being invasive. Hello, pretty.
Telepathy isn’t one of my skills, but apparently his is so strong that it allows me to fire off a reply. Tell me what you want and get out of my head.
His chuckle is pure predator. More like I have something you want.
Surely not. The Deep Dwellers, sworn enemy to my people, wouldn’t be so foolish as to lose a coup like my necklace. In the endless history of wars between our kind, I can’t think of a single instance when they’ve managed to steal the very essence of what one of the merfolk is—to sever one of us from our power. It’s priceless. They wouldn’t have traded it—would have, in fact, guarded it with their lives. So why does this monster in my head have access to it?
I cross my arms over my chest and tell myself that the shiver racking my body is from the cold. I’m listening.
Come to me.
That surprises a laugh out of me. Pass.
You’d turn down a chance to regain yourself?
I’d turn down a chance to walk into a trap like an idiot. I shake my head. This is a waste of time. I turn for the shore when power slams into me, sending me to my knees. The water rushes in—or maybe I rush out—and the next thing I know, I’m up to my chest.
Don’t be a fool.
This deep, I finally have a sense of him. He must have held himself back up to this point, because he’s positively ancient. Older than anything I’ve ever felt—even my father—and so powerful that pain lances through my head. It would be so easy to give him what he wants, to stop fighting, to…
“Get the fuck out of my head!” I sprint for dry land. This deep, it’s more of a fast wade, but I curse and spit and fight the pull of the magic current trying to yank me off my feet. “No, no, no, no, get your stupid magic off me!”
He releases me all at once and I fly the last few feet and land in a heap just past the now-normal waves. I sit up and scrub sand from my face. Even without the water connection, his dark amusement slithers through me. Another time, pretty. His presence recedes faster than any tide, leaving the storm just a normal storm.
It’s official—I’m in even worse trouble than I could have imagined.
Chapter Three
The week passes without so much as a blip on my danger radar. No mysterious voices in my head. No midnight sleepwalking into the ocean. Not even the normal internal spinning that accompanies every move my necklace makes. My power responds to it like a cell phone automatically seeking Wi-Fi, so any change on the other end of the line between us affects me. Not anymore. It’s just a steady pulse, always pointing directly west.
And it’s getting closer.
That, more than anything, changes my weekend plans. My body might be human, but I still possess enough mermaid that I need to spend time submerged in salt water on a regular basis. Fresh water will work in a pinch, but it’s like eating a handful of peanuts when I’m craving a full steak dinner. It barely scratches the itch.
I can’t risk it.
The second I step into the water, he’ll be there. If the last seven days have solidified anything, it’s that the bastard is playing with me. He let me go the other night, and he let me go in the storm, too. I don’t know why, but the why matters less in this moment than the danger he poses. I can’t avoid the water indefinitely, but I can slap a Band-Aid on the problem until I figure out a way around it.
It’s the only option I have.
When I rented this house, two features sold me on the insane price—the proximity to the ocean, and the absurdly giant bathtub. Whoever lived here before me must have had a fetish for group bathing, because it’s large enough that I could have fully submerged myself in my other form without breaking the surface.
I run the water until it’s filled to the brim and then haul in a ten-pound bag of salt. The ratio won’t be quite right, but it will work in what equates to an emergency situation. I dump it under the running water and give the whole thing a good stir to help the salt start dissolving.
A quick circuit of my house ensures all the doors and windows are locked. I do this every couple of hours that I’m home, drawn by some impulse I refuse to put a name to. Two weeks ago, I barely bothered to throw my deadbolt. Now, I have this place locked down like some kind of inadequate fortress. It won’t stop someone from getting in if they’re the slightest bit determined, but it makes me feel better all the same.
False comfort is still comfort.
By this point, the bath is ready. I strip and climb into the water. My skin sparks at the first touch and then settles into a low thrum that I have to concentrate to even feel. A battery barely getting its charge. I lean back against the tub and take several deep breaths. Even now, I can hold my breath for well over ten minutes, which is the bare minimum that I’ll need to get through the next couple days without lethargy sapping my ability to function.
One last slow exhale and then I fill my meager lungs with as much air as they’ll allow. I sink below the surface and close my eyes. It’s too depressing otherwise. This is what I’ve been reduced to—slumming it in my bathtub instead of the oceans of my birthright.
Hello, pretty.
My eyes fly open and bubbles escape my lips before I can contain my shock. The plain porcelain walls of my tub are gone, replaced by inky darkness. Even as I spin in place, freely floating, the distant black gathers close. I get the impression of tentacles, each bigger than the next—the kind of creature that’s spawned thousands of sea monster legends—before the shadows retreat and reveal a man.
It’s an illusion. It has to be.
Very few creatures can create anything resembling portals, and none of those include such a smooth transition as what I just made. I look up, unable to see even a hint of sunlight glinting off the surface. If I really am this deep, the pressure would crush me the second I arrived. If that isn’t enough to convince me, the man floating a few feet away wearing a three-piece suit would be. He slides his hands into his pockets as if this isn’t the weirdest freaking thing I’ve ever experienced—and that’s saying something when you’re sent from another world by your father to help save your entire species.
“You can breathe down here,” he says casually.
Yeah, right. Won’t be taking your word for that. The slightest burning in my lungs tells me that, no matter what I’m seeing, my body is still back in my tub. Underwater. Inhaling here might mean inhaling there, and it’s not worth the risk. That would be the cap on my shitty luck—a mermaid who drowns in her own bath.
He circles me, and as he takes me in, I give him the same treatment. Whatever flavor of monster he is, he’s more attractive than he has any right to be. His skin is a deep brown that speaks of the harsh sun and scalding sand, and his black hair is just long enough that it’s allowed to curl. That hair has me thinking of the tentacles I’m certain I saw before he emerged from the darkness around me. Shapeshifter. Each move he makes is lethally smooth, as if just waiting for his moment to strike.
Predator, through and through.
Finally, he stops directly in front of me. “Usually when someone offers to help you, the proper response is to say thank you. Not snap at them like a feral animal.”
I didn’t ask for your help. And I don’t trust his offer to be anything but a lure to get me where he wants me. Too many deep-sea creatures hunt like that—a soft, welcoming light to cover up the jagged teeth that will rip and rend. This one is no different. He’ll coax me into the water by offering me what I want. There are plenty of uses for a mermaid when it comes to water magic—even a mermaid that isn’t quite a mermaid any more. He could easily restore my powers, and then turn around and kill me.
Or worse.
“You didn’t ask for my help, and yet you need it all the same.” His smile is wrong somehow, though he lets it fall away before I have a chance to put my finger on what it is. The man looks up and frowns. “You’re running out of time. Take a breath.”
Distantly, I’m aware that my chest is tight and aching. It doesn’t seem like we’ve been down here ten minutes, but we must be because I need that damn breath. Put me back.
“How powerful you think I am.” He moves closer, and though I try to back up, I stay rooted in place, my body no longer my own. One would think I’d be used to it by now, but my heart pounds panic through my veins. Helpless. I’m helpless. The man leans down and sifts his fingers through the cloud of my hair floating around my head. “Last chance, pretty. You keep denying me and you won’t like how things fall out.”
Fear might clog my throat, but I don’t need to open my mouth to make my thoughts heard. I lift my chin and force myself to meet his too-dark gaze. If our current circumstances weren’t enough to confirm it—and they are—one look into those black eyes would be enough to prove he’s not human. He’s not even slightly connected to humans the way most shifters are. We take a little of that mortality into ourselves when we take their shape, even if the core of us doesn’t really change. He might be wearing a human shell, but he’s too deep, too dark, to be fully contained.
It steals my breath for reasons beyond just terror. There’s something starkly beautiful about the deep sea, down in the places untainted by light. A different world with different rules. This man—this creature—is more dangerous than any I’ve come across in my countless explorations.
But my father did not raise a coward, no matter how broken I currently am.
Oh, we’re on to the threat portion of this song and dance. Good to know. I put everything I have into jerking out of his reach and cross my arms over my chest. Put me back.
“Put yourself back.”
How? I didn’t put myself here to begin with. Panic flutters on my tongue, the desire to inhale nearly overwhelming. I hate him for playing these games with me, for having all the power while I have none. My anger flares brighter and hotter, burning away the last of whatever hold he has on me. I press a hand to my stomach and, just like that, I know what to do.
I send my finding power in search of my body. It’s farther than I could have possibly dreamed, as if this creature has actually transported me leagues instead of just in my head. I push harder and faster, lights dancing across my vision as my brain screams for air.
The second my power touches my body, I slam back into reality. I burst from the water, gasping and choking. One inhale to luxuriate in the fact that I’m not dead and have air in my lungs, and then I haul myself out of the bath and collapse on the floor. Even as I escape the water, I can feel him there at the edge of my mental awareness.
Waiting.
For what, though? That’s what I don’t understand. Three times he’d had me at his mercy, and three times he’s let me go. A predator toying with his prey, maybe. Or maybe there’s more going on than a curse and a missing necklace.
I snag a towel and dry off slowly, my mind awhirl. If there’s one thing the last two weeks has proven to me, it’s that I can’t hide from this. I might be unprepared and outmatched, but he’s just going to keep coming. If he can get to me in a bathtub, then he can damn well get to me in any body of water. Going inland won’t work. A portal might, but I can’t make them anymore. That means I’d have to travel to either one of my sisters or to the Nexus Portal, which is kept open all the time.
I pull on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt and consider my options. Running sounds like a great plan, except it’s not remotely feasible. Even if I could portal to a different world, I couldn’t go home. One of the merfolk who can’t hold her natural form in a world made of oceans? There are members of my father’s court that will kill me for the sin of allowing myself to be cursed in the first place. Portaling to a different land-based realm might work, but my necklace and my powers are here. I won’t be able to magically restore anything if I’m not here, too.
Not to mention that I’m potentially dragging my problems to my sisters’ doorsteps if I run. Whoever the monster stalking me is, I have a feeling he’s not going to let a little thing like a portal stop him from getting to me. If I involve my sisters directly, I might as well paint the target on their backs myself.
No, running isn’t an option.
That leaves fighting.
I put the tea kettle on and move to stare out the window. Angry clouds gather overhead, eating up the clear blue sky that we’ve been enjoying for the last few days. Even with a pane of glass between me and the coming storm, I can taste a spark of displeasure on the wind.
This is no normal storm—no more than the first one was.
He’s getting more aggressive. Escalating.
I know what I need to do, but I still pour myself a cup of tea and hold it between my shaking palms until it cools enough to drink. One slow sip at a time, my panic recedes. It’s not gone, won’t be truly gone until I’m whole again and my enemies are vanquished, but my thoughts finally arrange themselves into a straight line instead of spiraling into screams.
Though I don’t keep in active contact with my sisters, we like to have the ability to call using mundane methods, so I have all their phone numbers. Two years translates to more missed calls and unreturned messages than I want to coun
t, but I’m betting everything on blood holding truer than past hurts. I take a deep breath, and then another. It makes no difference. I don’t fear for my life—none of my family would ever hurt me intentionally—but if Amae tells me to fuck off, it will break something in me that I don’t have words for. I almost put the phone down right then and there, almost judge the potential price too high to risk, but I’m out of options and I’m out of time.
I have no other option but to call my sister.
Chapter Four
I press the button to call Amae before I can talk myself out of it and hold my breath as the line starts to ring. Just when I’m sure the voicemail will click on, my sister answers. “Lorelei? Is that really you?”
Her obvious concern shoots through the line and wraps its tight fist around my throat. I cough once, twice, a third time. “Hey, Amae.”
“Hey?” There’s a long pause. Amae apparently still forgets to fill silence when she’s thinking. “It’s been two years and you say, hey?”
Lies and explanations and excuses bubble up inside me, anything to avoid admitting the truth, but I shove them all down. “I’m in trouble. I’ve, uh, been in trouble for a long time.”
“I guessed as much on my own,” my sister’s voice has lost its worry and gone dry. “How can I be of help to you?”
Amae always was too smart for my own good. I drain the last of my tea and set the mug on the counter with a soft clink. “I’m sorry I never called you back.”
“Perhaps you are.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter, because I forgive you. I’m glad you’re okay, Lorelei. The only reason I haven’t come down there to demand answers is because I didn’t think it’d actually take you this long to ask for help.”
That, and Amae has her own stuff to worry about. That’s the reason I’m calling her, as opposed to our other sisters—her unique skill set. “Once I figure my way through this, I’ll make it up to you—promise.”
Siren’s Surge Page 2
