by J G Barber
“My sister thinks he’s possessed,” Laura says.
Aurora shakes her head in vigorous disagreement. “He does not know where he ends, and it begins. It fills his heart with desire and rage.”
Her reaction confirms Laura’s recurring intuition that her husband is not possessed. There’s something else going on. “Is it a woman?”
Aurora waves her left hand over the rune spread. “I see a woman, yes.” Aurora’s hands shake out of control. “No, not a woman. Danger. She harbors the spirit of a nixe. Your husband is in terrible danger.”
Laura takes Aurora’s hands. “Nixe. Siren.”
Aurora sees Laura differs from her usual clientele. She’s done her homework. “You know of them. The nixe are evil spirits that inhabit the bodies of women. They seek men of the sea, wounded men, as you would call them. A nixe weakens a man’s will with song, drink and desire. It torments him until he takes his own life.”
“What about a man with repressed grief?” Laura asks.
Aurora removes her hands from Laura’s. “The nixe are born of grief. They seduce sad men with their sweet, sad songs and promises of release. Your husband must hold on to your love with all his strength, or he will be lost.”
Warrior intent fills Laura’s eyes. “How do I help him?”
“You cannot.” Aurora shakes her head. “Interfere and they will unleash their wrath on you.”
Laura wraps her arms around her pregnant belly. “They?”
“Your husband must choose the path. You are wise to walk away. You must protect your son.” Aurora hands Laura the rune of protection. “Keep this with you at all times. It will protect you.”
Laura studies the rune. It’s the same rune Ellen wears around her neck. She points out the same rune on the spyglass. “Can you interpret this for me?”
Aurora takes the spyglass and studies its etched runes, nodding as she recognizes the perfect match with the rune spread on the table plus the rune of protection. “Time folds on itself. The past and the future collide in the present.”
When she comes to the unrecognizable symbols etched on the spyglass, Aurora’s body shakes in fear. She hands the spyglass back to Laura. “No.”
“I’ll pay extra,” Laura offers.
“No,” Aurora says, this time in a final, non-negotiable tone.
Laura counts out five twenties and lays them on the table. “Thank you, Aurora.” She closes the spyglass and returns it to her bag with her wallet while Aurora counts the money.
“Do not take my warning lightly,” Aurora says, as Laura heads for the door. “These nixe have survived the fall of civilizations and the madness of inquisitions. They are formidable beyond our understanding.”
Laura pauses at the door. “How do I defeat them?”
Aurora sees Laura’s warrior intent and offers a final warning. “You cannot. Do not try.”
Laura returns to her BMW. She sits at the wheel for a while, digesting her session. That confirms it. Sirens are real. They are in my life and threatening my husband and my marriage. How do I help Paul and protect our son? She sits for a while, studying the etchings on the spyglass. The runes infuse her with energy and courage. Every time she tries to read the unrecognizable symbols, her body shudders and her brain shuts down. The secret is etched on this spyglass.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun rises over the faux turret, casting a shadow in the mansion’s backyard. A wood chip pathway divides the sprawling lawn, leading through the woods to the cliffs overlooking Possession Sound. Paul exits the glass door onto the back patio. He pauses in the shadow. Paul runs onto the lawn and looks up, recognizing the faux turret from his recent boat trips. He rushes around the swimming pool, follows the path to a vantage point of Possession Sound. Paul sees the rock where Leucosia perched her naked body to lure him and Art’s boat ashore. He vomits.
Paul stumbles back to the patio where he finds the crew gathering outside. They’re all energized, dressed in shorts and sunglasses, looking very L.A.
Elmo raises a high five. “The man can party!” He trades a hand slap with Paul.
Donald concurs. “An impressive display, Paul Douglass.”
Monica seals the deal with a kiss. “It’s official. You’re one of us now.” Paul staggers, moved by her passion.
Lorelei joins them on the patio. She wraps her arms around Donald and runs her fingers through his hair and along his neckline, watching Paul’s reaction. “Limo’s out front,” she says.
“Let’s go! Time for a sightseeing tour and a little hair of the dog.” Monica holds up a vial of cocaine to Paul’s face.
Paul licks his lips. A thought from Erik fights its way through the fog in his brain. Think of your wife. “I’m so sorry guys, but I can’t join you today. I’ve got to get home to take care of some family business.” He feels a subtle tingling sensation around his neck. Paul explores his neckline with his hands, finding nothing.
“Come on, Paul. You know you want to,” Monica beckons. She wrangles the crew towards the patio door.
Paul sees Laura’s piercing blue eyes in his mind’s eye. Monica and Lorelei share a moment of surprise when Paul doesn’t respond to Monica’s call.
“The little Wifey doesn’t approve,” Monica says to Lorelei. “She’s got quite a hold on him.” Lorelei’s eyes instruct Monica to proceed to the limo. Monica leads the crew back inside toward the garage.
Paul fumbles his wallet. He bends over to grab it and pulls out Alexei’s card.
Lorelei shakes her car keys in Paul’s face to distract him. “I’m not going with them. Need a ride?” He hesitates, so she offers the irresistible lure. “You can drive.”
They arrive in the garage as the limo pulls out of the driveway. Monica stands up through the sunroof and lifts her top. Her fleshy, undulating breasts entrance Paul as the limo bounces onto the street. The limo windows roll down and the crew waves as they fade into the distance, leaving a trail of smoke behind them.
Lorelei sings an inaudible tone. The black Lamborghini Aventador pulls Paul’s attention. She’s waxed and ready for a joy ride. Lorelei hands Paul the keys and they climb in.
The Lamborghini passes Clinton to take the long way back to Seattle via Deception Pass and Highway 5. Paul banks a turn onto Highway 20.
“Is that all you’ve got, Sailor?” Lorelei challenges. “This isn’t a boat. This car can go zero to sixty in less than three seconds. Come on, drive!” The Lamborghini wobbles on the road. Paul grips the wheel, his elbows locked. She taps his arms. “Relax.” The car evens out. Lorelei grabs his crotch. “From here.” Paul speeds up. “Good. Slow down as you approach the turn.” He hits the brakes. “Softly. Accelerate.” Paul takes the turns fast and steady.
They arrive at a long, straight stretch of highway. Lorelei’s hand remains. Paul looks at her, seeing she is at ease with where her hand rests. But it’s not a sexual act. He feels a powerful life force connection between them. It burns through his hangover and revitalizes him.
Their drive leads to Deception Pass State Park, the last stop on Whidbey Island before the bridge crossing to the mainland and back to the Douglass residence. “Pull over,” Lorelei commands. “I want to show you something.”
Paul parks at the rest stop. He opens the door for her. “I am so buying one of these,” he exclaims as he offers her a hand. Her breasts press tight against her sweater as he pulls her to her feet. Paul doesn’t look away.
“In 22 days, you can.” Lorelei leads Paul to a private outlook off the main trail. He checks out the swirling currents in the water. With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she sheds her sweater, revealing a translucent t-shirt that clings to her skin. Her body emits a wave of pheromones so potent, he can’t stop himself. She takes his hands and leads them around her waist. His hands shake as he lifts the t-shirt to expose her breasts.
His hands move to cup them. A glimmer of sunlight catches his wedding ring. “Fuck!” He pulls her t-shirt down and backs away.
She
moves in close. “Wasn’t last night incredible?”
“I don’t remember.” He walks closer to the water.
“Yes, it was,” she insists. Her emerald green eyes draw him back to her and he loses himself again. She tries to slide off his jacket. He pulls away, coughing and grabbing at his throat. She sighs. “Asleep at the wheel.” Lorelei puts on her sweater and heads up the trail.
He chases her. “Lorelei!”
“Spare me the excuses.” She locks eyes with him and pouts. “I don’t just throw myself at any man, you know.” When he doesn’t respond, she runs to the car.
“Lorelei, wait!” He runs ahead of her and blocks her from getting in. “Look. I don’t have to tell you. You know how beautiful you are. You know I want to. But I love my wife. And we’re colleagues. I’d like it if we could be friends.”
Lorelei laughs. “All right, friend. Come have lunch with me. I know a place you’ll really like. Fresh organic beef. Local wine.” Paul’s face tenses, and she lets him off the hook. “You passed out last night. Nothing happened.”
Paul relaxes. “All right. Lunch.” He opens the car door for her and they speed away over Deception Pass Bridge and down the road to Mount Vernon. She directs him to her favorite local restaurant, the Third Street Cafe. Real food from Northwest farmers and producers.
Paul and Lorelei face each other in an intimate booth. She rubs her bare feet on his legs. He pushes them down. “My legs are cramped.” She smiles as she straddles him with her calves.
Paul gulps his wine as her seduction continues. The alcohol brings welcome relief. She slides a foot between his thighs. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Aw, don’t be mad. I’m just having a little fun.” She grins. “Oh my! I guess this means we’re real good friends, huh?”
He grabs her ankles. Lorelei channels Laura’s voice, as if she had listened in on Paul and Laura in the bedroom. “You’re hurting me.”
Paul jumps up from the table and heads down the hallway into the men’s room. He examines his throat in a full size mirror. For a moment, he thinks he sees the same distortion around his neck he saw around Art’s neck at the Chelan Cafe. “What the fuck is going on here?”
Chapter Fourteen
The Lamborghini skids to a stop in Paul’s driveway. He climbs out and checks the garage. It’s empty. Lorelei leans back onto the hood of her car, back arched and legs spread ever so slightly, modeling her femininity in a photo-worthy pose. She sings as her body releases another a powerful dose of pheromones.
The song and smell together make Paul want to mount her right there in his driveway. “Holy fuck! How do you do that?” He wills himself to shake it off and keeps his distance downwind.
“Friendly reminder, I know how you can close the deal in Art’s time frame,” she calls to him. “I’ll be at the club tonight. Come dance with me. I’ll tell you the secret.”
“Thanks for the ride, Lorelei.” Paul fights with all his remaining strength to pull himself away from her eyes and walk to the front door. Lorelei hops in the Lamborghini. He watches her accelerate away, every cell in his body longing to chase after her and follow her wherever she leads.
Paul enters the house, shaking, looking for signs of Laura. The house is clean. The bunny and her suitcase are missing. Shit. She left. He can’t stand the hyper-stimulation anymore. Paul heads into the bathroom and finishes himself off with unrestrained grunts and groans, this time with more distance and volume than before. “Whoa. I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman so much in my life. What am I going to do?” Paul pulls up his pants and cleans up the sink.
His mind blurs as his hangover catches up with him. He wanders the house, struggling to figure out what to do next. Paul ends up in front of the windows overlooking his empty dock. A breeze tickles his hair. He looks up to find the skylight is open. “What the fuck?” He looks around the room. Nothing missing or disturbed. His instinct leads him to the office, where he finds the spyglass missing. “Laura could have taken it.” Paul checks the entire house, including his stashes of weed, cash, gold and his pistol. Nothing missing.
Paul dials his smartphone. He gets Laura’s voicemail. “Laura, I’m at the house. Someone broke in through the skylight. The bunny and my spyglass are missing. Hope you’re okay and you have them both. I’ll be home tonight if you want to talk. I love you.”
He inspects the area around the skylight, looking for evidence of forced entry. There are no footprints or signs of human transgression, just a little paint and dirt, fallout from whoever—or whatever—pried the skylight open. “How?” Paul’s sluggish brain tries to process the possibilities. “I got nothing.” He pulls Alexei’s card out of his wallet. He dials before he can talk himself out of it.
“Paul Douglass.” Alexei replies. “I expected you to call.”
Paul returns to the lake view windows. “Yeah, I’ve been down in L.A. and hosting clients here in Seattle.”
Alexei’s voice echoes disapproval. “You travel in its cars now. Not wise.”
“Her name is Lorelei.” He steps outside to get some sun and air. “She loaned us her limo during the client visit.”
Alexei decides a scolding will not be productive. “How can I be of service?”
“Before I went to L.A., you warned me.” Paul walks out onto the dock. He admits the truth to himself and Alexei. “You were right. She is irresistible. She sings to me. Her eyes pull me into her. And her smell… It’s all overwhelming. How do I escape the call of a siren?”
Alexei seizes the moment to learn what game they are playing with the sirens this time around. “The nixe know how to lure a man to self-destruction. They’ve evolved their approach over many centuries. If you are still alive, either it takes pleasure in tormenting you, or it wants something from you. What does it want?”
“Money,” Paul says without hesitation. “She’ll make a shitload when we close this acquisition deal.”
“Interesting.” Alexei knows the sirens have been accumulating wealth for several centuries, by spellbinding wealthy men and stealing their fortunes before they lure them to their deaths. “As long as the deal is unfinished, your life is not in danger. She makes efforts to undermine your will, yes?”
“She’s doing one hell of a job on that front.” Paul looks out from the end of the dock where Lorelei appeared to him as a mermaid. “The next time she tries to seduce me, I don’t think I can say no.”
Alexei lectures him. “Understand, it attacks on three fronts: biology, emotion and psychology. If it cannot seduce you with female biology or charms, it will promise you the answer to an unknowable secret, something you want so badly that you will do or give up anything to know it. Stay strapped to the mast. Contact me if you are in danger.”
“Thanks, Alexei. I appreciate it.” Paul ends the call. He puts his shoes back on and returns to the house, trying to make sense of Alexei’s advice. “So far, she’s done everything he said, including an offer to reveal the unknowable secret of closing the deal. Why does he refer to her as ‘it?’ She’s just a beautiful woman in heat with an amazing body. My god, that smell… it’s killing me. No! I’m strapped to the mast. I can do this.” The residual impact of a week of partying, combined with his anxiety, hits him hard. Paul grabs a bottle of water from the kitchen and collapses on the couch to hydrate.
Laura motors around Ellen’s apartment, pointing at her with the spyglass. “I’m telling you, Aurora confirmed it. Paul is under attack by sirens. And he’s not possessed, he’s afflicted with some kind of ancestral curse. How can sirens exist, here and now? They’re mythical creatures.”
“You’re the mythologist. I don’t know about that stuff. But I do know about the paranormal. And I’m telling you, Laura, there is something paranormal going on here. There’s more to this story than what you learned from Aurora.” Ellen wrestles herself out of her armchair throne and onto her feet. She grabs a worn, old book from one of her bookshelves. “Here, read this.”
Laura sits next to the
bunny. She pages through the Compendium Maleficarum, a 17th century witch hunter’s manual. “This better tell me how to kill these things.”
Ellen returns to her throne. “The Compendium identifies sirens and mermaids as aqueous demons that can invoke storms at sea and cause ships to sink. And the Mallus Maleficarum—The Hammer of Witches—came out in Germany over a century before this book. It advocated criminalizing witchcraft and prescribed torture and burning at the stake as remedies. It was the second-bestselling book in Europe after the Bible for 200 years.”
Laura finds the passage about aqueous demons. “This a clue, Ellen. Aurora and the German myths describe the nixe. Sirens. Maybe witch hunters exterminated the nixe. She said these sirens survived the madness of inquisitions.”
Ellen insists she’s right. “I’m telling you, Paul is being attacked by demons.”
“Does it matter who’s right here?” Laura takes a deep breath and centers herself. “Paul is in trouble, I can feel it. We have to help him.”
“I have to tell you something,” Ellen says, her voice strained with shame. “The anniversary ritual I gave you. It wasn’t a lovers’ ritual. It revealed Paul’s possession.”
Laura throws the book down and confronts her sister. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Your stupid fucking ritual revealed the ancestor who cursed Paul. I’ve heard the man speak and seen him in Paul’s eyes.”
Ellen launches out of her chair in anger. “Fine you selfish demon slut! Don’t listen to Aurora or me. It is a fact that your husband is in league with demons, and you and your son are in danger. If you refuse to listen, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
“We always believed that love conquers all,” Laura exclaims. “I’m going to prove it.” She storms out the door with the spyglass. Ellen and the bunny exchange a look. They’re both wondering where Laura’s headed.
Paul throws down his phone after another failed attempt to reach Laura. He heaves himself off the couch and heads for his weed stash.
