Siren Hunter- the Curse
Page 1
SIREN HUNTER: THE CURSE
Book 1 of Siren Hunter: The Experience
J.G. Barber
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and events in this book are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Laughing Tortoise, LLC
Copyright © 2019 by J.G. Barber
All rights reserved. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be sold or reproduced in any form without permission.
Cover Design by Sanja Gombar using licensed stock images from Shutterstock.com
Editing by Lori Diederich
Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
About The Author
Chapter One
RHINELAND, GERMANY, 1539
Sankt Goar and Sankt Goarshausen, sister towns on opposite sides of the Middle Rhine. A thousand souls live in and around the castles Burg-Rhinefels, Katz and Mauz, and the Evangelical Collegiate Church. Most of them enjoy a simple religion-based life. The rest fight an obsession that has plagued the Rhine Gorge for centuries.
This evening, a storm rages through the Gorge. Three men dressed in sailing garb and storm jackets march onto a boat dock on the shores of Sankt Goar, straining as they carry a wooden chest wrapped in steel bands to a small sailboat. Alexander and Dutch help Erik secure the chest on board the sailboat.
Erik, the leader of the trio, prepares the sails. He’s a wild-haired, bearded man of Norwegian and Icelandic descent, a multi-generational sailor who found his way to a prosperous life as a merchant sailor. Nicknamed after his country of origin, Dutch is a tall, strapping fellow who follows Erik’s lead to enjoy the fruits of life along the Rhine. Alexander is a small and wiry Russian immigrant, a wise and mysterious man who fled the impending tyranny of Ivan the Terrible and found sanctuary in this brotherhood of three.
Dutch shouts over the rain. “This is no night for sailing, brother!”
“Hear me, brother. Tonight, we end the killing.” Erik opens the chest to reveal a mound of gold jewelry and coins. He withdraws a bronze spyglass etched with rows of Norse runes, and one row of symbols in an unrecognizable language.
Alexander places a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “Consider the consequences, Erik. Use what we learned, and you curse our sons and theirs.”
“Fear not for our sons.” Erik reassures him with steeled confidence born of determination, denial and preparation for whatever outcome this evening brings. “I know the heart of this one. She will honor my terms.”
Dutch weighs in. “And if she betrays you?”
Erik slams the chest shut. “If she betrays me, brothers, we will continue the fight. We will rid our valley of this scourge. We will not stop until the nixe are no more.” He extends his hand forward, looking to Alexander and Dutch to reconfirm their commitment. They hesitate, considering one last time the consequences of this dark path. Erik’s will compels them. The three men join hands in agreement.
Sails raised, the wind pushes Erik away from the dock. He fights the current to steer toward a huge stone formation, the Loreley Rock. With a flick of his wrist, he opens the spyglass. Something not human ascends from the water, climbs the rocks, and takes station on a perch above the water. It takes shape as a stunning, naked maiden.
It’s Lorelei, the obsession of the local sailors. She’s decorated in jewelry and gold. Lorelei combs her long blonde hair with a golden comb as she sings a sweet, sad song of longing. Her song penetrates the sounds of the river and the rain, reaching through Erik’s stern demeanor to stir his heart and soul. He’s never wanted anything as desperately as he wants her.
The sailboat approaches. Lorelei’s melody calms the storm. The wind dies. The water stills. Erik finishes admiring her rain-soaked body and meets her eyes. “My beautiful Lorelei.”
Lorelei calls, “Erik. Come to me.”
Erik points to the wooden chest, ready to give her a lifetime of accumulated wealth to have her as his own. “I have met the terms of our bargain. Now say it. Say I am yours alone.”
Her voice commands him. “Erik. You are mine.”
He expects to see that his beloved has given herself over to him, body and soul, as he has to her. Instead, her glimmering green eyes bind him in her spell. She resumes the melody. As her song takes Erik over, he releases the tiller. The current carries the boat toward the rocks.
Lorelei wails. A sudden burst of wind fills the sails, slamming the boat against the rocks below her, smashing the hull. As water consumes the boat, Erik climbs the mast, clutching the spyglass, fighting to secure himself. Before he can recite the runes, the mermaid Leucosia leaps out of the river, water streaming from her long red hair. She distracts Erik long enough to grab the spyglass and laughs as she dives back into the river with it.
Hands emerge from the river to grab Erik’s legs and pull him underwater. Betrayed to his core, he grips the mast with all his strength. Erik stares into Lorelei’s eyes to imprint his rage on her soul. “By your power, Holda, make me your instrument of vengeance. Seal my living soul in the netherworld. Bind the generations that follow in service of my retribution. Grant me no rest until the nixe are no more.”
He lets go. Erik’s eyes remain locked on Lorelei as his head submerges. She watches him sink, looking to feed off of his fear of impending death. Instead, the psychic wave of his rage overwhelms her.
Lorelei calls out with a savage sound. Kill him.
Leucosia re-emerges with the spyglass. She calls out in a panic. Stop! Too late. Her gossip of Rhine mermaids, a dozen beauties resembling Leucosia, swarms the wreckage as the water turns blood red. The mermaids extract the sea chest and decorate each other with his treasure in a giddy celebration of Erik’s death.
Lorelei grins in victory as Leucosia swims to her feet. Leucosia hands her the spyglass and points out the unrecognizable symbols etched in metal. Lorelei scoffs.
Leucosia’s eyes fill with deep recognition steeped in sorrow. Dear sister, you do not understand what you have visited upon us. She calls to the gossip. The mermaids follow Leucosia to the depths of the Rhine with their prizes.
Lorelei remains on the rocks, watching Erik’s blood dissolve in the water. She basks in the afterglow of primal satisfaction, vengeance again meted out to those who took her one true love from her so many years ago, before she became a siren.
A shadow figure rises out of the blood. Erik’s spirit manifests in front of Lorelei. “Erik, my love. You impress me yet again with your perseverance. Can you not let me go, even in the afterlife?”
“Fear the soul that hunts the nixe.” Erik’s spirit dissolves into the night.
Lorelei studies the spyglass symbols. The runes have no impact on her. But as she reads the row of unrecognizable symbols,
her body shudders in a moment of terror. Her arrogance overrides the fear. No man is my equal, alive or dead. She clutches the spyglass in her hands as she leaps off the rocks in a graceful dive, morphing into a mermaid as her hands touch the water.
Chapter Two
SEATTLE, USA, PRESENT DAY
Magnolia, Washington, a bedroom community on the Puget Sound north of downtown Seattle. A gloomy Northwest sky sets the mood for a visit to the cemetery. Gravestones form neat lines across a vast stretch of lawn on the hill.
Paul Douglass searches the gravestones until he finds the one he’s looking for.
Robert Douglass, 1961 - 2019. A man of the sea.
Paul wears a classic seaman’s jacket and wool cap to honor the one-year anniversary of his father’s death. Today, and every day since his passing, a haunted stare overshadows his boyish good looks.
His stare evokes the secret worry that’s been eating away at Laura’s soul, diminishing her inherited Scandinavian beauty. Paul’s wife has yet to figure out what haunts him. She tried everything she learned as a master’s student in mythological psychology to get him to open up and talk about his grief. Nothing has worked.
Paul moves to the next gravestone.
Roxanna Douglass, 1965 - 2017. Loyal and strong.
He never understood how she tolerated Robert’s disappearances and the storms of rage when he returned. Roxanna held everything together and made it work until the end.
“It’s good for you to talk about it,” Laura reminds him. She moves closer and places her hand on his heart.
“You know, I wouldn’t be where I am without her. I owe her a lot,” Paul says. “He spent their marriage doing God knows what on his secret business trips. He was never there for us.” He fights his emotions. “She couldn’t bear to live without him.”
“Don’t let that happen to us,” Laura warns as she embraces him. Paul allows himself a moment of vulnerability, inviting a surge of grief. He pulls away.
Paul swallows the grief and heads for his black 2006 Hummer H1 Alpha. Laura follows.
They pass two men dressed like Paul and wearing the demeanor you’d expect to see on a reality TV series about life and death on the sea. Alexei is a wiry, cagy Russian man in his sixties, a clear descendant of Erik’s 16th century brother-in-oath, Alexander. Dutch, in his fifties, not only resembles his 16th century ancestor, he inherited the same name.
“Paul Douglass?” Alexei asks with a subtle Russian accent.
Paul continues walking as he assesses the two strangers. They trigger a foggy memory. He stops to talk with them. “Yes?”
“I am Alexei. This is Dutch. We are friends of Robert.” The men shake hands. Laura keeps her hands crossed as she studies the two men.
“We came to honor the day,” Dutch says in a respectful voice.
Paul studies Dutch and Alexei. The men look familiar, but he still can’t place them. “How did you know Robert?”
Dutch smiles to Paul. “You may have been too young to remember us, son. Alexei and I visited your home frequently. I taught you how to tie your first sailing knot.” He responds to Laura’s curious look. “We sailed and hunted with Robert, back in the day.
“A hunter?” Paul asks. “I knew my father sailed…”
“He was a fierce hunter,” Alexei states with authority. He studies Paul from head to toe, then looks deep into Paul’s eyes, as if he’s searching for something. He nods to Dutch when he finds what he’s looking for.
Alexei’s probing evokes something deep in Paul. The shadow behind his eyes grows darker. He struggles to make sense of another foggy memory. He feels intense rage and steel will contained within the memory, but he’s unable to process it.
Laura observes the interactions between the two men and Paul’s reaction to Alexei. She stands between them and Paul. “Do you know how Robert died?”
Dutch replies. “My apologies, I thought you both knew how he died. A boating accident. Robert drowned.”
Laura steps forward to confront him. “That’s what Paul told me. I have a hard time believing it, given Robert’s prowess as a sailor.”
Alexei seizes the moment, looking at Paul when he speaks. “A humble man respects the power of the sea. He learns to use her power to propel his boat forward and protects himself when her power is beyond the limitations of his craft. An arrogant man pushes forward without respect, believing he is more powerful than the sea. And the sea teaches him the truth. Robert respected the power of the sea and learned from her for many years. Then he stopped. And the sea taught him the truth.”
Paul motions Laura to their vehicle. “Alexei. Dutch. It was very nice meeting you again. I appreciate you coming out to pay your respects.”
Dutch blocks their departure. “We have something for you, Paul.”
Alexei continues, “Robert wanted you to have it.” He walks over to a sturdy old military style Jeep and opens the back. Alexei returns with an old wooden box.
Paul opens the box to reveal Erik’s bronze spyglass. He tests the eye line and focus. “This is exquisite.” Paul runs his fingers over the runes, triggering his curiosity. When he reads the unrecognizable symbols, the shadow behind Paul’s eyes lifts for a moment.
Alexei speaks in a prophetic tone. “This heirloom has been in your family line for many generations. One day, you will gift it to your son.”
Paul nods to both men. “Thank you.” He returns the spyglass to his box, tucks it under his arm, and turns again toward the Hummer. Alexei and Dutch head toward the gravestones.
Once Laura’s seated in the Hummer, Paul hands her the box. As he climbs in and starts the engine, Laura opens the box. She studies the runes, recognizing the symbols from her Nordic mythology studies. When she reads the unrecognizable symbols, her body shudders, head to toe.
The Hummer pulls into the driveway of the Douglass residence, a lovely five-bedroom rambler at Holmes Point on the shore of northern Lake Washington. The front yard is spacious and private, thanks to a line of trees and bushes, with a stone walkway from the gravel driveway to the front door. Paul and Laura bought the house for a steal during the last real estate market collapse. In Paul’s mind, its increase in value is an integral part of his corporate exit plan.
Paul grabs his gift from Laura and helps her out of the Hummer. “I have a stand for that, if you want to put it on your office,” Laura says as she fishes her house keys out of her purse.
“I do,” Paul replies. “I’m going to give this bad boy a tryout on the water tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see what my father saw, or his father. Maybe I’ll be able to see back in time.” Paul heads for his office, the place he spends more time than anywhere else in the house. He fires up his three-display workstation.
Laura sets up the stand on an open space atop the filing cabinet. Paul sets the spyglass on top, adjusting its rotation to view the runes from his desk chair. He gives Laura a robotic hug and kiss.
“You gonna work now?” She already knows the answer.
Paul types in his password on the center display. From left to right, the screens light up with a web browser, a presentation and a spreadsheet. “Yeah. You heart it, Art keeps hinting we have a new investor. Gotta finish getting ready tonight. Tomorrow night is for us.”
She knows the drill, no use resisting. Laura accepted the price of their upscale lifestyle years ago. Her regret sometimes gets the best of her, but not tonight. She shuts the door, leaving Paul alone with his work.
Paul reviews his investor presentation on the center display. Advanced Digital Media Solutions provides a cloud software platform for multi-platform digital content providers. ADMS enables companies lacking the resources of Apple, Amazon, Hulu or Netflix to operate a branded storefront. As VP of Business Development, Paul evolved this presentation over five years to keep the company’s vision and technology roadmap relevant in the acquisition market. The latest testament to his genius and determination: overcoming management’s resistance to adding virtual reality, augmented reality, and
mixed reality to the platform.
“This is it. I can feel it.” Paul reaches into the closet where he keeps a case of his favorite Washington cabernet, Glaze, an affordable and drinkable everyday wine with a convenient screw top. He pours a glass and goes to work.
Laura settles on the couch with a textbook from her master’s program, The Book of Lilith, the mythical representation of the societally repressed seductress. She tries to focus on the text. As she reads, Laura wonders if Paul would spend more time with her if she unleashed her wild woman.
Chapter Three
A thunderstorm brews above Whidbey Island. The strong wind propels an expensive forty-five foot motorsailer toward Possession Point. Possession Sound is the next body of water north of Seattle’s Puget Sound.
Paul mans the helm. Art Feldman, the CEO of ADMS and the boat’s owner, chokes on cigar smoke beside him. Paul’s employer is a 20th century relic struggling to survive in a high-tech world he no longer understands, kept alive only by his connections to money and Paul’s brilliance.
Jeannie Feldman sits next to Laura, pretending to enjoy herself as the wind ruffles her hair. She’s an aging trophy wife clinging to her yacht club royalty status. Laura smiles as she watches her husband in his element.
With a flick of his wrist, Paul opens the spyglass and scans the rocky island shore. He spots a bird-like creature rising from the water. Its wingspan is massive. Its head is large… Is that a woman’s red hair streaming in the wind? The creature flies out of Paul’s scope, to a mansion hidden in the trees, landing on a faux castle turret peeking out of the treetops.
Lorelei relaxes in a large soaking tub. On the outside, she looks a few years younger than she did in Sankt Goar. Aside from the brunette hair, Lorelei bears a strong resemblance to her past self, but this is not the same body from 480 years ago. Her beautiful face veils centuries of soul-weariness born of betrayal and vengeance.