A Siren's Song

by Saranna Dewylde

  He pushed into me with no preamble, but there was no pain. Only this sense of fullness that was so right. The only ever time I’d felt this way was that first time I’d killed. There was a wholeness to me, like I’d been missing this part of my life.

  No, no. This was only because my soul knew his.

  Jason met my gaze and we fell into each other. He cupped my face with his strong fingers, almost as if he were afraid if he didn’t hold me there, I’d disappear.

  And I did.

  A tidal wave of Helreggin’s memories dragged me out in an undertow only to launch me back up onto the shore of my current incarnation again. The image of Jason’s god self was superimposed on this reality and he whispered in my ear even though his lips didn’t move.

  He spoke of love, of long nights under Yggdrasill, the Tree of Life. Of twining ourselves together with the leaves glistening like diamonds above our heads.

  I knew then that Helreggin loved him, as much as any creature such as she could be capable of loving.

  But those feelings were not mine and I didn’t want them to be.

  That knowing exploded through me with more force than the physical release. It was brighter, hotter, and more wonderful. A sense of self, of who I was in this world, this life. I understood my place in it again.

  His essence spilled into me as he climaxed.

  It occurred to me that this was the most vulnerable he’d ever be—lost in the sensation of my body milking his, spasming around him and pulling his seed deep into my womb. His throat was literally bared to the beast, the predator in me.

  As Jason’s body stilled, he brushed another kiss across my lips and lay down beside me. A strange spell had been cast over us for those moments and now that the madness had passed, it was simply over.

  It made me think of the Voodoo women who invited their gods to possess them…to “ride” them. That’s what this had been. My limbs, my breath, my lips—none of those things had were my own.

  Jason must have felt it too because he didn’t try to hold me or even wait for me to speak before he sat up and started pulling on his clothes.

  I followed his example, not having much experience in these things. “So is the victim still at the scene?” The best thing here was to talk about work. Neutral territory.

  “No. She’d dead.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “That’s why I came to find you. Whatever she had to say doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “It doesn’t matter? How can you say that? The killer must have told her to ask for me. Do you know what that means?”

  “It didn’t matter enough for you to show up. So no, it doesn’t matter.” The gentleness of his tone belied the hard punch of his words. I couldn’t argue with him either. In that moment when the Cross had burned my letter, I’d chosen myself over catching the killer.

  And I’d do it again with no regrets.

  “Sometimes that’s just the way it goes, Grimes.”

  He didn’t acknowledge my reply. “It’s been days since you’ve slept, Brynn. Sleep. I’ll take care of sanitizing the apartment and I’ll clean up Sickert’s little pit too.”

  My first instinct was to tell him that I could do it myself. I didn’t need him to clean up after me. Those thoughts must have been scrawled on my face. “This is what I do. I’m your partner in all ways.” He kissed my forehead. “Come over to my place tonight and bring The Hel Cycle with you.”

  I felt like a dog. Sleep. Sit. Stay. Come. “I still have a job to do,” I told him.

  “The victim died, the scene has already been processed. You’re not going to be any good to anyone if you drop from exhaustion. Your body can regenerate, but you’re not immortal yet. Trust in me, Brynn. I’m not trying to control you. I’m doing the job you set for me yourself.”

  The first tentative fingers of dawn streaked pink and gold through the dark sky and I knew he was right. It wouldn’t hurt to sleep at least until mid-morning. I exhaled heavily. “I’m trusting you, Jason.” I wondered if he knew how hard that was for me to say.

  “I know.” He kissed my forehead and pulled the blankets up around my shoulders before turning on my sound machine. Jason changed the setting to white noise. “Put one of these by the door and turn it on as soon as you get home. It won’t keep that bastard out, but the Cross can’t hide in the vibration of molecules with the white noise frequency.”

  So that was how he’d seemed to be invisible. White noise. Sound had to be the key to his weakness. I’d find a way to break him. The thought soothed me. I wouldn’t allow any creature to have the kind of power of me he’d wielded by destroying my father’s letter. Bastard. I’d crush him if it was the last fucking thing I ever did.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” Jason said as he closed the door.

  Sleep crept over me and I drifted on waves of silence and shadow. When I was a child, I dreamt of things that all children do. Of strange vistas and sweet things on my tongue with petrichor in the air. After Thora, those places were closed to me and I dreamt of nothing. Sleep felt like death. Until today.

  Strangely, I found myself reliving that last day in Swope Park. The one where Sickert had started watching me. The clouds crashed together overhead, rolling in like a convoy of semis spilling their cargo all over the landscape below.

  Lightning split the atmosphere with a hundred sharp blades and out of the blinding light stepped my father in all of his godly glory. I knew him for who he was then, not the mortal serial killer, Erik Hill. But his true form. Loki.

  My father was the God of Chaos and bringer of darkness. It was his son, the great wolf Fenrir who would swallow the world and bring about Ragnarok. The end of all things.

  I was truly Helreggin, Queen of Hel and Shield Maiden of the Damned.

  I suppose after everything that has happened to me, that should have been obvious. The truth hammered home with a pair of scissors thrust into my gut. Part of me still hadn’t wanted to believe. The part that was human.

  For as much as I claimed to be something apart from them—human, I’d still been born of mortal flesh as well as divine. Hadn’t I?

  Even though I knew it was him, I couldn’t resist asking, “Daddy?”

  His hard features softened, his full mouth curving into the smile I’d only ever seen him give to me. He opened his arms to me and I ran to him, like I did when I was a little girl. He smelled of all things good: the storm, winter, and Nutella.

  “I’m proud of you, Brynn.”

  His approval bloomed warm and happy. Something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I wanted to cling to these reminders of childhood, wrap them around me like a blanket.

  “You’ve always been my favorite of all my children.”

  “I’ve missed you. Your guidance.”

  “It may not seem like it, but I’ve given you everything you need to defeat any foe.”

  “Even the Cross?”

  “Never let him bring you so low again.” He grabbed my chin with his fingers and tilted my face up so I was forced to look up at him. Electricity crackled through his fingertips, stinging my cheeks. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Father.” His eyes were shifting pools of the eternal, from the frigid blue of winter to the brown of a fawn, then to the leafy green of an ancient forest slipping away into black decay, only to melt into blue again.

  “Don’t let them use anything against you. Especially not me. Don’t forget, Brynn. I’ve already given you everything you need. Remember your lessons. I’d rather not have to teach them again.”

  His voice was so kind and even, but my father was the only thing that truly frightened me. Lessons at his hands were brutal and something to be feared. More than anything Baldur could devise, or even the Cross.

  I’d forgotten that because I’d missed him so much.

  “I failed,” I confessed.

  “No, you didn’t fail. It’s a lesson you still have to learn.”

  I barely suppressed a shudder. I’d asked for his guidance
, and now I had it. My father was how I’d defined my world. I couldn’t change the parameters now because I didn’t like what he had to say.

  Could I?

  “A cop is dead.”

  “You said yourself one day he’d be on the other side of the line, Brynn.”

  “One day. Not yesterday. Not today. You know that’s not how I work.”

  “Maybe it should be.” He flashed me a full blown grin.

  “You were the one who taught me to take only what was mine.”

  “That hasn’t changed, but maybe the definition of what is yours has.”

  “You are very much like their devil, aren’t you?” I asked softly.

  “Humans never reach their full potential without pain and suffering.” He stroked his thumb over my cheek just as he had when I was small. “It’s time to wake up now. You have a doctor to hunt.”

  An explosion of thunder and light jerked me into wakefulness. They sky had been like a blushing virgin, all pink and pale when I’d fallen asleep, now it was black and grey, heavy with the storm.

  The clock on my nightstand read four p.m. I’d slept much longer than I meant to.

  I didn’t doubt for a moment that my dream had been real.

  He’d said I had a doctor to hunt. Did he mean the Capri Killer or Larkin?

  I’d promised myself I’d take care of Dr. James Larkin, so I decided it didn’t matter what my father meant. This was my realm and here I was judge, jury and executioner. Larkin belonged to me. I should have handled him already. Angela Crane deserved some peace instead of living in fear of the stepfather who’d killed her sister, raped her, and threatened to kill her, too. I’d already caught him hanging around the safe house. His behavior would escalate as soon as it became clear he wasn’t going to get his way and the little cage he’d built around Angela had already crumbled.

  A familiar tingle that always made me think of fairies dancing on my skin skittered through my senses. This was what I needed. Not Jason and his pretty words, or pretty touches. This.

  I dressed quickly, pulling on nondescript slacks and a white blouse, tucking my hair up under a ball cap. Casting a quick look around the loft before I left, it appeared as if Jason had been true to his word and had cleaned the place. I’d sanitize it again later, just in case.

  I’d actually considered burning the building down since I’d contaminated my lair. There was no way to be completely sure I’d gotten rid of all of the evidence. Some stray fiber stuck to my shoe, a bit of DNA… If for some reason those things were found, I could say I must have picked it up at some crime scene like the Capri.

  I pushed all thoughts of the previous night out of my head. I had to stop second-guessing myself. What was done, was done. There were no do-overs, no mulligans.

  What I did have was Dr. James Larkin. If I hurried, I could probably catch him as he was leaving his office.

  I hadn’t decided how I’d kill him. Something that would take a long time. I’d dig out of him what he’d done with Kelly’s body, Angela’s older sister, before I let him die.

  For the first time, I wondered what happened to my prey after they were dead. It pleased me to think of impressing the good doctor into my army. He didn’t have any skills to offer, except service. I’d let him take his flesh with him to Hel and he’d be prey for the other predators. That resonated with the other presence inside me, Helreggin. If only I could remember how it was done.

  My father said he’d given me all of the tools I needed. I trusted that when the time was right, I’d know what had to be done.

  I Googled Larkin’s office on my phone as I left my loft and secured the door. It was a Prairie Village address. Lovely neighborhood. Normally, I would have stalked him, mapped out his routine and every possible scenario down to how long it took him to exhale his last breath. But my dream had emboldened me.

  My mind was centered and focused as I drove and before long, I found the address. His office was in a large house that had once been a residence, but the sign out front proudly proclaimed it his place of business.

  I knocked on the door and surprise was obvious on Larkin’s face.

  “Is that offer to talk about Angela still open, Doc?” I gave him my best, do-gooder smile. Let him believe I bought into his bullshit.

  “Officer Hill, truthfully, I didn’t expect you.”

  Whenever someone added “truthfully” on to any statement, it was the first cue that everything else coming out of their mouth would be anything but truthful.

  He was trying to hide something.

  So I pushed past him like I’d been invited and I noticed the house place smelled of chocolate chip cookies.

  “That smells wonderful.”

  “My wife bakes cookies every other day to keep the place smelling so homey.”

  “That’s kind of her. I bet she misses doing those things for Angela and Kelly.”

  “She does. Cries herself to sleep every night. I just can’t stand what this has done to our family.”

  “I’m sure.” I nodded. “So, what is it you think will help Angela?”

  “Coming home.”

  “Baby steps, Dr. Larkin. You know how the system works.” I wandered into his office and sat down in an overstuffed leather chair. There were the usual diplomas and certifications hanging on the wall. A picture of Angela, Kelly, their mother and Larkin.

  Angela told me about long, torturous hours spent in this room. Being forced to submit to Larkin was one thing, but Angela made it sound like there was something even more horrible about the room. Some proof of Larkin’s depravity.

  I opened myself up and reached for that silver cord that was his distinct aberration. He was so arrogant, so secure in the world he’d built himself. He was confident that no one would ever believe a girl over him—the esteemed country club shrink. Angela represented innocence, something he wanted to reclaim. He’d have to cleanse her, scrub her—I blocked those thoughts. I already knew what he was capable of with her.

  Using my gift, I began unraveling the cord, looking for the fibers that wove it together. Kelly hadn’t been his first, there was nothing special about her, except she felt…present. Not a spirit, but…the gleam of the hourglass on his desk caught my attention. I picked it up.

  It was white and smooth, like ivory. But it wasn’t ivory and the grains in the glass weren’t sand.

  It was made of bone and dust. Kelly.

  “An unusual piece,” I commented in a casual tone.

  “I keep different things on my desk to engage my patients. Sometimes it helps them feel more at ease about the process.”

  I smiled at him. “Ensures compliance?”

  He returned the smile. “Exactly.”

  “I see.” I placed the hourglass back on his desk.

  “Do you?”

  “I do, Dr. Larkin. I really do.”

  “Call me James.”

  My muscles coiled tight and I was a King Cobra ready to strike, until the scent of jasmine drifted over me. The small, white trumpet shaped flowers mocked me from their position on table by the door. There was a card on a stick that had been jammed into the dirt as if they’d just been delivered.

  “Jasmine?” I asked.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Some days more than others.” Was Larkin the Capri killer?

  “Someone sent them to my wife. A secret admirer.”

  “A secret admirer or are you trying to be romantic?”

  “I wish I’d thought of it, actually. She’s been through so much.”

  “If they’re your wife’s flowers, why did she put them in here?”

  “She felt guilty accepting a gift from another man.”

  “May I see the card?”

  He shrugged. “Be my guest.”

  I took the card and flipped it over. Kasalan was scrawled in a neat, precise script.

  “Does that word mean anything to you?”

  “Why so curious? Has someone been bothering Angela?”

  Be
sides you, asshole? “Ah, no. I’m just always a cop. Can’t seem to turn it off. If someone I loved got flowers from an unknown source, I’d want every detail.”

  He looked sheepish. “I did look it up. It’s the Filipino word for marriage.”

  Jasmine was part of the marriage tradition. It was also the Capri Killer’s calling card. Angela’s mother was in danger, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Angela had told her mother what Larkin had been doing and she’d done nothing.

  If anyone had done these things to Thora, had she lived, there would be no hellhole deep enough, nowhere far enough to escape my wrath.

  Angela’s mother was just as culpable as Larkin. The Capri Killer could have her.

  Thank you.

  His voice was as loud and clear as if he’d been standing right next to me. My head snapped up and I scanned the room for another presence, but there was no one there but the remnants of Kelly, Larkin and myself.

  In the blood, in the blood, in the blood.

  “Out of curiosity, what’s your wife’s blood type?”

  “What a strange question.” Larkin leaned back on his desk, his palms splayed on the edge.

  “Indulge me.”

  “Only if you return the favor.”

  “If I can.” I nodded.

  “O positive.”

  “Huh. Me too.” I had to remember to ask Jenna what the other victims’ blood types were, but I almost didn’t need her answer. I knew this was it; a piece of the puzzle. Though I knew now he was in my head as much as I was in his. He knew I’d come here, find the plant. I was suddenly hit with the impression that this was all a game. He needed the girls’ blood, but the elaborate dressing of the corpses, the scene, all of this was him playing with me.

  The killer wasn’t human.

  He believed himself to be my equal.

  “My turn. Can you get me a day pass to see Angela? I just need to talk to her. There’s no reason to put her mother through this.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed.

  “I knew if we could just talk you’d see it my way.”

  “First, tell me what you did with the rest of Kelly’s body.”

  His eyes narrowed to little slits and then widened again, the expression would have been imperceptible to a mortal. But not to me. It was as clear and bright as a new light bulb.