The ringing phone was her cell phone. Reese found it on the desk and turned it on.
“Hello?” she groaned. Her voice broke with the effort.
“Reese?”
It was Kristine. She didn’t sound so great either. Of course, running the woods all night would do that to a woman.
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s up?”
“I’m calling an emergency pack meeting. A kid died in the cove last night. He was torn apart by a siren.”
“I know. I was there” Reese dragged a hand down her face. She turned the desk chair to peer out at the open sea. By the look of the sun it was past three in the afternoon. According to her cell phone, it was 3:43.
“Were you? What happened?”
Reese recounted the night to her boss and friend.
“Well,” Kristine said finally. Her sigh made the woman sound much older. “We need to know what’s going on.”
“I went through Aunt Constance’s books but I haven’t found anything that would explain their behavior.”
“I called to see if you could watch the bar until I get there. I realize it’s not your shift and I’ll pay you double for that. But now that I know you’re a witness, I wonder if you should be part of the discussion. I’ll leave it to you to decide.”
Reese Choice 3
Go to pack meeting
Hold down the bar
Grayson: Jump in and swim for Landon
Grayson spotted Landon swimming toward shore. His strokes were wild and uneven. No wonder he wasn’t even halfway there. It wasn’t until this moment, when Grayson was terrified for his life, that he realized how terrible of a swimmer Landon was. It didn’t matter. He had to reach him as quickly as possible.
Grayson fixed the path in his mind and dove. The objective was to reach Landon on the heels of the sirens. Perhaps they were only curious. Hopefully they would swim around or tug playfully on their legs.
Of course, Grayson knew better.
Sirens had one objective when it came to humans. They wanted to mate.
As Grayson swam furiously toward his friend, he tried to remember everything his mother had taught him about sirens.
“The males are more aggressive than the females. They are more likely to accidentally drown their human mates than the females, though they are also incredibly strong. You have to understand that the males are only looking for sexual gratification. The females, however, are hoping to procreate so they must be more careful with their prey.”
“Why in the world would they want to mate with humans?” Grayson had asked.
“Male sirens are sterile. Therefore, a healthy population of the sirens is entirely dependent upon females successfully mating with humans.”
“But how do you fuck a fish?” his little brother Tanner had asked.
His father had slapped him gently on the back of the head. “Don’t be crude.”
“I’m just asking. I thought they had fish tails!”
“They are like shapeshifters,” their mother explained. Her face had soured. She hated it when Tanner cursed. “They can take humanoid form long enough to mate.”
“Humanoid,” Grayson had repeated. Because they didn’t really look human. Not without their glamour.
Cold seawater hit the back of Grayson’s throat and he choked, coughing. But he’d almost reached Landon.
“Landon,” he cried. “Landon!”
Landon stopped swimming, turning toward the sound of his voice. “What—oh shit.”
Two streaks of bioluminescence cut beneath them leaving shimmering blue bubbles in their wave.
“Landon, listen to me.” Grayson wanted to make his instructions clear before the sirens started singing. “They’re probably females looking to mate.”
“Oh man.” Landon couldn’t suppress his goofy grin. “I hear they turn into—”
“Listen!” Grayson spat. “You need to get to shallow water. Don’t stay here or she will drown you. Do you understand?”
Landon was watching one of the sirens rise from the depths to the surface.
“Landon!”
“Shallow water. Got it!” He began to paddle to shore half-heartedly.
That’s when Grayson saw he had his own problem. A young woman surfaced six feet between him and the shore. He began to paddle toward her. It wouldn’t be smart to try to flee into deeper water, nor could he tread the waves all night.
But she didn’t look ready to move aside either.
He closed the distance—four feet, three, just two—
He cut to the right, giving himself room. She moved into his path. It looked like Abigail. It wasn’t Abigail. He knew that.
“I’ll do it,” he said, hoping she understood. “But not here. Okay? Not here.”
If the sirens could get into his head well enough to find his perfect image of a mate, surely, it could understand these thoughts too.
But she didn’t look like she was going to let him pass.
She began to cut a circle around him, not unlike a shark.
A shark. He’d forgotten all about it and it hardly mattered now. They wouldn’t come near the sirens or anything else that smelled of magic.
He dared to look away long enough to check on Landon. He was closer to shore. That was good, though his siren was already practically on top of him.
Grayson felt a hand on his penis and froze in the water.
When he glanced away, the siren had seized the opportunity. She stroked him. Slow and gentle, trying to conjure an erection. So these sirens really did know how it worked.
It was Abigail. It was Abigail touching him.
“No,” he said. “No, not her.”
The anger in his voice startled her. Her grip faltered. She moved back a little as if afraid of him. Of course, her advantages far outweighed his. But she was obviously confused about her failing glamour.
He was in waist deep water now. The silty bottom met his toes and relief rushed through his body. Abigail’s red hair and deep blue eyes fell away. It was replaced with luscious blond locks, pouty lips and green eyes.
He almost laughed, but he kept backing toward shore.
“All right, Mrs. Miller,” he said. “You’ll do.”
It was ridiculous. Mrs. Miller had been his ninth grade geometry teacher and he’d dreamt about her nearly every night that year.
The siren, smiling again, wrapped her body around his. Her grip was so strong, it pulled him under the waves. But the hand was on his penis again, furiously working.
When that didn’t seem to have the desired effect, her head dipped below the surface. Lips fastened onto his penis with a suction so intense a moan was pulled from his throat.
He tried to elbow crawl toward the shore. He needed to be in the shallows or he was going to die getting blown by a fish girl with baby fever.
By the time he got his head above water, his erection was fully formed. Her mouth released him the same moment that hands grabbed onto his hips, pulling him toward her.
He realized she was trying to mount him.
Not here. God, not here.
Three or four feet of water was plenty to drown in, especially if his back was ground into the sandy ocean floor.
This was his chance. He could scramble for shore and hope he made it onto the sand before she caught him, or he could pull his knife and cut her. Cutting her would buy him more time to clear the shallows, but it might escalate the situation. His mother had said sirens could be violent when afraid.
Grayson Choice 2
Cut her with the knife
Get to shore (ES)
Grayson: Get to shore
Instead of pulling his knife, Grayson committed to getting to shore. There was no escaping really, and if he struggled, it would only cost him.
So he wrapped his arms around Mrs. Miller, knowing Mrs. Miller smelled like Clinique and not ocean water.
He stood up. Her legs wrapped around his torso, welcoming his embrace. She sighed into the hollow of his throat.
>
He kept one hand on her back, as he waded through the shallows toward the shore. This was difficult to do with her relentless enthusiastic hand, but at least she wasn’t heavy.
When she finally managed to slide his erection inside of her, his step faltered.
He fell forward into the surf. A wave crashed over them, pummeling his back.
But when he rolled, body aching, it was dry sand under his head. The pounding waves were only covering his legs and groin. At least he wouldn’t drown.
For a moment, it was only the strange storm clouds above, sparking with heat lightning. Then she mounted him.
Her body glistened with ocean water. Sand clinging to her breast and arms looked like crystals in the diffused moonlight.
She stayed astride him, grinding her hips into his. The sand scraped his back and buttocks. There was a rock or shell of some kind pushing into his tailbone. But he knew the best option was to lie still and indulge in his ninth grade fantasy come to life.
He turned his head, looking up the beach. He hoped he would spot Abby and Landon both safe on the shore. But the bonfire had died down and with only momentary bursts of lightning, shadows prevailed.
It looked like there was something happening at the other end of the beach—bodies moving. But it was too far to see.
Mrs. Miller picked up her pace. As she bent forward, and her cool breasts brushed his face, all thoughts were shoved out of his mind. Everything disappeared but the stormy night sky and Mrs. Miller’s dripping, hard nipples.
He came and for a moment he was the one holding onto her hips, rocking against her.
But before he even caught his breath, the weight lifted and she was gone.
Two splashes and a bright flash of blue bioluminescence beneath a wave—and she was gone.
It wasn’t his best sexual experience. It had been too quick, and the shells under his back had no doubt scraped his skin to hell. He also preferred his partners warm rather than as cold as a sea slug.
He tried not to think of what she must’ve looked like in her true form. He’d heard sirens resembled the fish monster from the Black Lagoon. If that was true, then the telepathic glamour was a blessing—even if he would find it hard to look Mrs. Miller in the eye again. Ever.
Grayson wanted to rinse himself in the ocean, but decided against it. The ocean water would burn like hell with the cuts stinging his back. Plus, now that he knew the sirens had breached the Cove’s rock barrier, it was entirely possible that a second female could approach him and he—no. He couldn’t do it again.
He’d have to put his clothes on as he was and worry about cleaning himself later.
Screaming tore the night in two.
Grayson’s heart rocketed into his chest and before he knew what he was doing, he was running down the beach as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him.
It was Abigail. Abigail was screaming.
He pulled the knife from his forearm sheath, afraid he would have to fight a siren after all.
Abigail was still naked on the sand, her hands and knees sinking into the wet shoreline. Her face was contorted. Her mouth hung open, before another wave of sound tore through her.
“Abby—Abby!” He bent to pull her away from the water. But he saw no siren. A flash of bioluminescence sparked a hundred feet away, swimming in the direction of the ruined castle and the cliff it rested on. If it was the male siren, he was swimming away from them.
That wasn’t what she was looking at.
Her eyes were fixed on a strange tangle of limbs tumbling in the ocean surf.
“Landon.” Grayson’s voice cracked.
It was Landon’s body tossing in the white waves. Wave after wave pummeled him into the sand.
Grayson forgotten about his plan to stay out of the ocean and went into the water. He grabbed a slick limb and dragged Landon onto beach.
He wanted to turn him over, do CPR, or pound on his chest until water spurted from his mouth the way it did in the movies.
But Grayson knew his friend was dead the moment he touched his skin. There was something unnatural in its weight. The living had a lightness to their being. Landon’s lightness was gone.
Yet Grayson turned him over on the shore anyway, aware that Abigail was still screaming though the sound had become a distant annoyance. It was a fly buzzing in the other room.
Grayson was shoving the heel of his hand into Landon’s sternum. He was tilting back the chin so he could pinch the nose closed and blow into the mouth. But the lips were cold. The chest wasn’t moving. The heart wasn’t beating.
Landon was dead.
They dressed before the police arrived. They’d had about fifteen minutes between the moment he’d pulled his cell phone from his pocket until he saw the flashlights first sweep the sandy dunes.
Then the police were calling out their names and Grayson found a way to call back, though his throat was raw and burning.
Abigail’s mother was first on the scene. As an officer at Castle Cove PD, she would’ve heard the call come into the station and would’ve taken it upon herself to drive straight to Hunter’s Beach.
What he hadn’t expected was that his own parents would be a close second.
It was his father who threw a gray wool blanket over his shoulders. It was his mother who squeezed him so hard he couldn’t breathe.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “Are you—Christ, you’re trembling.”
“I’m fine,” he managed, yet his teeth were chattering. “But Landon—Landon.”
His voice broke and his father pulled him into his embrace. He wasn’t sure how long they held him, cocooned by his parents on either side. Someone was stroking his wet hair.
When they finally released him, dozens more had arrived. There were officers in jackets, but also paramedics. They wanted to give both Abigail and Grayson full physicals.
One shone a penlight into Grayson’s eyes.
“I’m fine,” Grayson insisted. But they still sat him and Abigail down against a rock. She hadn’t stopped crying. “Forget about me. Check on Abby.”
“We need to know what happened,” Officer Una O’Reilly said. Una was Abigail’s mom.
“Grayson,” his father said. It was the one-word command he’d heard often in his life, but never delivered with such tenderness.
Grayson told the story. He began with their plan to swim to Heart’s Rock and then go get pizza.
“It’s his eighteenth birthday,” his mother interjected as if defending him.
“Then they came around the rock,” he said. “Three sirens.”
“Onto the rock?” Officer O’Reilly corrected.
“No,” Grayson shook his head and cold water fell from his hair on to his cheek. “Around the rock. They passed me and swam straight into the cove. They were chasing Abigail and Landon. The females split off for Landon and the male went after Abby.”
Officer O’Reilly stiffened. Her face pinched.
“I thought the inlet was safe,” his father said, searching the detective’s face. “I thought this tradition was harmless.”
“If you call the threat of rape harmless,” his mother Lillian countered.
Officer O’Reilly seemed to struggle, but finally found her words. “There was also a siren attack last Saturday.” She pointed south, down the beach. “While they do visit the southern beaches from time to time, they’ve never crossed into the inlet before. We will have to investigate what would drive them this far into the cove.”
“If there was another attack, why haven’t we heard about it? Why didn’t you issue a warning?” his mother demanded.
“There hasn’t been time,” the detective replied.
“It happened last weekend. Why didn’t you let us know they were agitated? The community deserves to know if our children—”
“Lillian,” his father said. He squeezed her arm, and to her credit, she seemed to regain control of herself.
“We thought last weekend’s attack was an isolated in
cident. We did report it to...the proper authorities. But we haven’t heard any new information on the situation. Frankly, we didn’t know what was going on and therefore weren’t sure what to report.”
“Tell that to them!” Grayson’s mother pointed at the couple further down the beach. Landon’s parents were surrounded by police. It looked like they wanted to come over and talk, but the authorities weren’t allowing them to come any closer.
“You could have reported that there was an attack,” Lillian said stiffly. “At least tell people to stay off the beach.”
“You’re right. We will have to now,” Officer O’Reilly conceded.
“Landon is dead.” It was Abigail speaking. “Landon is dead.”
“I know, sweetie.” Una stooped and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “I’m so sorry.”
Grayson heard the unspoken relief in her voice. At least it wasn’t you. That must be what she was thinking. Someone’s child had died tonight. But it hadn’t been her child. And though both of their parents knew who Landon was to Abby and Grayson, they couldn’t hide their own gratitude. They might have seen Landon grow into a young man, they might’ve had him over for dinners and playdates, but none of that meant they would sacrifice their own children in his place.
A man in a dark blue jacket stood awkwardly to one side, waiting to get Officer O’Reilly’s attention.
She spotted him. “What is it?”
“We just wanted to let you know that the markings on the body and the water in the respiratory system are consistent with a siren attack. There was no ejaculate present—”
“Christ,” Grayson’s mother swore.
“—it was likely washed away in the surf.”
Una held up one hand. The other remained on Abby’s shoulder. “That’s enough for now, Darryl. Thank you.”
“Lillian, Wade, I hate to ask but could you take Abigail home, please. I will need to stay here until the scene is processed. The kids are both cold and—”
“I don’t want to be alone,” Abigail said. She lifted her head and dragged her nose across the blanket draping her arm.
Night Tide Page 4
