Siren Hunter- the Curse

by J G Barber

  Aurora studies Laura for a few minutes. “You are ready now.” Aurora runs her finger over the etched runes. “These are Old Norse. From Iceland. Same as the ones I use.” Her body shudders as she reads the unrecognizable symbols again. “These are written in the Atlantean language.” She thrusts the spyglass back into Laura’s hands. “They hold the key to unlock secrets that must remain buried. I will not translate them.”

  “The Atlantean language?” Laura asks. She’s heard Ellen’s conspiracy theories about the imprint of Atlantis on ancient civilizations and the present day and discounted them as more of Ellen’s bullshit. Her master’s degree studies revealed no conclusive evidence of its existence. “Atlantis was a myth. And what does Atlantis have to do with the nixe?”

  “Atlantis is where the vendetta between your ancestors and the nixe began.” Aurora waits for Laura to react. When she doesn’t, Aurora says, “I will recite the runes.” The psychic waves her hands over the spread. “A journey. Strength in partnership. Protection versus evil. Strength versus weakness. The power of Holda shall prevail.” She smiles to Laura. “There is still hope.”

  “Does that mean we can kill the nixe?” Laura demands.

  “You cannot use human logic to understand the spirit world.” Aurora clicks her tongue to scold Laura.

  Laura contains her anger. “Stop talking in circles. I need specifics.”

  Aurora nods in agreement. She studies the rune spread. “Your husband has not yet faced his final tests. He will be given three chances to see the darkness that resides in him.”

  “And?” Laura’s running out of patience.

  “Three times he will face self-destruction.” Aurora’s words rattle Laura’s cage. “Three times he must choose to see.”

  Laura’s anger fades, replaced by gut-wrenching fear. “Will he choose me?”

  “You have already chosen your fate,” Aurora declares with authority and finality.

  The psychic’s words send Laura’s emotions into a spin and her mind into cognitive dissonance. She throws down five twenties, grabs her bag, and heads for the door.

  “Your rage is the gateway,” Aurora warns as Laura storms out of the parlor. “The father’s curse becomes the son’s.”

  Laura tries to breathe herself back to center before she drives. She also tries to engage her analytical mind to make sense of Aurora’s reading. But her emotions are too intense. unleashed a storm inside of her, and she has no choice but to let the storm take its course, and sort through the wreckage when it’s over.

  Monica’s West Hollywood apartment is a high-end penthouse well beyond her means. Similar to Lorelei’s main room at the Whidbey Island mansion, it’s a showcase of mermaid and siren artwork, and a place for the siren familiars in L.A. to meet. Monica loves the upscale lifestyle her alliance with the sirens provides, and she doesn’t question their source their funds. She’s just grateful for the opportunities her home provides to spend time with her sisters. And Lorelei, when she’s in town.

  Lorelei extracts a blood sample from Monica’s arm. Monica applies a bandage and inspects the vial. “This is all it takes to answer the question?”

  “Our feelings are sufficient,” Lorelei responds. “But today, we use science to confirm.”

  Monica remembers how her body felt when she gave Paul the tongue kiss. “I’ve never felt an attraction like this, sister. I feel it in every cell of my body. It’s electric. Just thinking about him makes me want to come.” She reaches down to massage between her legs. Her body quakes in a spontaneous orgasm.

  Lorelei strokes Monica’s hair and cheek until she’s able to bring her attention back to their conversation. “We’ve been searching for the father of our resurrection for centuries. Ironic that he turned out to be a Douglass.”

  “I am surprised he hasn’t tried to fuck me already,” Monica reflects. “I know he wants to.”

  “His will is stronger than any human male I’ve encountered. His unique genetics are the only explanation.” Lorelei allows herself a moment of respect. She changes topics. “Shall we go over the plan one more time? While I harness his will for our creative purposes, and prepare him for his moment of destiny, the lab results will confirm our feelings with a readout of your genetic compatibility. Then, at the celebration of desire, it will be your turn.”

  Monica strokes Lorelei’s hair. “I understand what you must do to serve our mission. And I embrace our ways. I hold no jealousy toward you, sister.”

  Lorelei kisses her. “You are a true Sirenian sister, Monica.”

  Monica swells with emotion and pride. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, sister. I am ready.”

  Lorelei grins, filled with pride herself. She shields her thoughts to keep them to herself. I have underestimated sister Monica. Her commitment to us is unparalleled. When this host fails me, she will be my next one.

  Paul stands in front of an 80-inch TV that displays the last page of the statement of work he slaved every night to complete. Jerry and the crew all nod to him. “Thank you, Paul, for listening. You nailed it.” Jerry signals the crew to leave the room.

  “Only one problem remains.” Jerry says as the door closes. “Who will pay for this?”

  “You will pay for the software development either way,” Paul reminds him.

  “It’s a matter of integrity,” Jerry insists. “And accounting. This is an unplanned expense. It has to come out of the purchase price. Talk to Art.”

  Paul looks at Lorelei, expecting her to intervene. She doesn’t. “Art won’t budge on the number,” Paul states.

  “Then we don’t have a deal,” Jerry counters. He digs in, holding tight to his position the way he did before their latest truce at the Beverly Hills bar.

  Paul loses his patience. “Come on. This is not a lot of work. We’re talking about a million and a half dollars. New Century burns more cash than that every week.” Paul locks eyes with Jerry. “Ten dollars a share is a fair price. You should expect to pay for customization.”

  He waits for Jerry to respond. Paul sees Jerry’s not going to budge and loses his temper. “You’re going to walk away because you and Art had an argument?”

  Lorelei shoots him a look. You don’t want to come off like Art right now. Paul hears her thought. He practices his breathing exercise. “It’s been a long week,” Lorelei says. “Let’s revisit this next week.”

  “I expect you to come back with a concession,” Jerry instructs Paul as he heads for the door.

  “Duly noted,” Paul replies in a noncommittal tone. “Enjoy your weekend, Jerry.”

  Lorelei grabs her bag and heads for the door. Paul follows her out. You didn’t have control of that conversation, did you Lorelei?

  Lorelei grins. You really don’t have the slightest clue.

  She talks him out taking a commercial flight and into flying back to Seattle with her on the MaverickONE. On the way to the airport, they talk through the status of the deal and how to handle Art. Lorelei promises Paul that’s she’ll take care of it. He’s so worn out from years of dealing with Art’s sabotages that he agrees to let her.

  One glass of wine and the stress of the week hits him hard. Paul slumps in his chair and nods off. Lorelei takes his hand and guides him to the couch. “You played like a champion this week. You deserve a rest.” Her hands direct him to lie face up. She kneels next to him, takes off his shoes, and runs her hands over his body. “Relax.” She sings him a soothing lullaby that entrances him to sleep in less than a minute.

  Lorelei opens a cabinet and withdraws a hypodermic kit. She takes a sample of his blood. She withdraws the needle and inspects the full vial. Let’s confirm the Sirenian gene is alive in you, Sailor. She returns the vial to the kit and stashes it in a zippered compartment deep in her travel bag. Lorelei returns to the cabinet and retrieves a container and a bottle of lotion. Singing a new song, she undoes his belt and unzips his pants. She collects a sperm sample, impressed by the volume of his release. Excellent. Our plan is working.

&n
bsp; Laura stomps around Ellen’s apartment, rage pulsing through her veins as the storm inside consumes her. “I have no fucking idea what that woman is talking about. Aurora’s full of shit, just like you are!”

  Ellen launches out of her chair and grips Laura’s arm. “Laura. Heed Aurora’s advice.” Laura counters the move with a Krav Maga technique that sends Ellen flying over the coffee table on the couch. Ellen checks herself. No injuries. She takes a minute to collect herself. A wave of PTSD flashes through her body as Ellen recalls the terrifying demonic incident that changed her life. She heads into the kitchen and reaches into the cupboard for a package of cookies. “You can’t fight these forces. Believe me, I know. And for God’s sake, you can’t put your son’s soul at risk.”

  “I’m so sick of this siren bullshit. It’s time to fight!” Laura checks the time. She swoops up her bag and rushes out the door.

  Ellen chases Laura down the stairs, unable to move at Laura’s speed. “Laura, please! Don’t do it.”

  “He’s in over his head. He needs my help.” Laura jumps into the BMW and drives away before Ellen can make it to the street. Ellen watches helplessly as her sister races to a confrontation she’s sure Laura will regret.

  The BMW races toward Airport Way, the Boeing Field turnoff from Highway 5. Lorelei’s limo pulls up behind it. The penetrating resonance of a siren’s song rings in Laura’s ears. Her engine sputters and spews smoke. Laura steers into the emergency lane before the car dies.

  The limo slows as it passes by. For an instant, the overhead light plays just right on the window glass. Laura sees the outline of a face inside the limo pulls over in front of the BMW. A wave of animal lust overtakes her. Leucosia. As the limo rear door cracks open, Alexei’s sedan pulls up to block it. The limo’s tires squeal as it speeds away.

  Laura remains in the car and attempts to dial her smartphone. The screen is dead, and it won’t power up. She reaches into the glove compartment for the emergency phone. It won’t power up either. She reaches into her bag and grabs her knife, not recognizing Alexei as he approaches. His kind smile diffuses her self-defense.

  She rolls down the window. “We have to get to the airport. Paul is landing any minute.” Laura expects him to respond to the urgency, but he does not. “My phone doesn’t work, I need yours.”

  He signals her to pop the hood. She winces from the stench of rubber and plastic as smoke rises from the engine. Alexei nods at the sight of the engine parts melted together. He returns to Laura’s window. “You may need to purchase a new car. A tow truck is coming soon.”

  “Leucosia did this.” Laura grabs his arm. “Alexei, we have to go! Paul’s in danger!”

  “This is not the time to intervene.” He takes her hand to lead her out of the car. She checks for all her belongings before joining him.

  Laura steps aside with him as the tow truck arrives. “Then this is all part of the plan?”

  “Erik’s plan, yes. Tonight’s events are unexpected.” Alexei leads her over to the tow truck driver. They give him instructions to take the car to the Douglass house. “Come with me, Laura. We will discuss the plan.” Alexei opens the sedan for her, and they drive away as driver chains the BMW to the tow truck.

  The gentle jolt of the MaverickONE’s landing wakes Paul from his slumber on the couch. He sits up to face Lorelei. She smiles mischievously. “Nice nap, Sailor?”

  Paul notices he feels refreshed and a little light-headed. “What did you do to me?”

  “I sang you a lullaby, to help you sleep.” The MaverickONE slows to a stop. She hands him a protein bar. “You look like you need a snack.” He devours the bar as the jet door opens.

  They grab their belongings and deplane. Paul follows her through the terminal, reviewing Jerry’s final words in his mind. Lorelei’s limo waits at the curb. He sees Leucosia’s shadow behind the glass, but he does not recognize her.

  “It’s time for you to decide, Paul. Do you want to be rich? If your answer is yes, you know where to find me tonight.” She climbs in, blocking Paul’s view of Leucosia. The limo drives away, leaving Paul standing at the curb wondering who that was inside the limo.

  Paul searches the parking lot for Laura. Seeing no sign, he dials his phone. “The subscriber you are calling cannot be reached at this time,” an automated voice replies.

  “Where are you, Laura?” He tries her phone several more times, with the same result. As he starts toward the Hummer, he realizes he needs to use the restroom. Back inside the terminal, as he empties his bladder, he notices the lotion residue. What the fuck? Did she give me a fucking hand job while I was asleep? Why would she do that? The questions are more than his tired mind can process, and he shuts down. He returns to the Hummer and drives home.

  Alexei escorts Laura to a seat in a funky old cafe off the highway and near the airport. She sits with him in a long, awkward silence as the waitress pours coffee. Laura waits for the waitress to leave before withdrawing the spyglass from her purse. She points to the Atlantean symbols. “Do you know how to read these?”

  “I do not,” he replies. “Erik is the master of the runes.”

  Her blue eyes pierce him. “These are not runes. They are from Atlantis.”

  “Erik is the mastermind of our plan,” Alexei says. “We are the stewards of its execution.”

  “Answer my question,” she demands. “What does Atlantis have to do with the plan?”

  As his new siren hunter partner, he has no reason to withhold the truth. “We only know two things. First, what we fight to finish began in Atlantis. Our oral tradition began with Erik’s death. The details before his time are unknown. Second, Lorelei and Leucosia amassed their fortune to serve a purpose. We believe they seek ancient technology that will enable them to restore the Sirenian race.”

  Laura struggles to wrap her mind around this new insight. She doesn’t like the sound of this at all. “How do we stop them?”

  “Lorelei is their mastermind. Without her, they will be lost.” Alexei looks in her eyes. “Paul must lead Lorelei to self-destruction.”

  Laura lets a tragic laugh escape. “Alexei, I love my husband. I’ll do anything to protect him. But, seriously, do you really think that man can lead a siren to self-destruction without self-destructing himself? Come on, he’s siren bait.”

  “Paul can do it,” Alexei insists. “His odyssey requires a great deal of him. And of you.”

  She cannot contain her skepticism. “I’m not buying it, Alexei. Seriously, I am not following a plan thought up by some guy who’s been dead for five hundred years. This whole thing makes no sense.”

  The waitress delivers two club sandwiches. They sit in silence for a while. Laura shoves food in her mouth until the plate is empty. Alexei inspects his meal. He eats half the sandwich. Laura eats the other half, and his fries.

  Alexei swigs his coffee. “I am not a sorcerer, Laura. I do not have the power to convince you. You will see soon enough that it’s the only way.”

  “Siren songs and seductions may work on a horny male,” she counters. “But they won’t work on me. I will reverse engineer these fucking symbols and take them out myself.” She grabs the spyglass off the table, stuffs it in her bag, and heads outside to hail a cab.

  Alexei lets her go. A dangerous move, he says to Erik in his mind.

  We have no choice, Erik replies. We can no longer do what we have always done. This new plan will work. The arrogance of the nixe will prevent them from seeing what is coming next.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ellen sits on her throne, studying the spyglass runes. “I can do a rough translation. It’ll be abstract, but we should be able to figure something out from it.” She looks through her bookcases, withdrawing The Book of Runes. She grabs her notebook and returns to her throne to go to work. Laura’s anxiety speeds up her pacing across the apartment. “This is Old Norse text in modern Icelandic orthography,” Ellen informs her.

  Laura grows impatient. “And that’s important why?”


  “Aurora said the runes were Icelandic,” Ellen reminds her. “And you said Paul’s ancestor learned from Icelandic sorcerers. That increases the likelihood this is an authentic artifact.”

  “What about the Atlantean symbols?” She points them out on the spyglass.

  Ellen shudders as she reads them. “I’ve explained this to you before. Archaeology has proven that Atlantis existed. Their civilization achieved great power with consciousness and technology. Some of them turned to the dark side, and they used both to destroy the planet. Those who control the world’s resources today use their forgotten knowledge. They do not want us to know about it. They’ve censored every attempt to publish an authentic translation.”

  “Whatever.” Laura runs out of patience. She dials up the urgency. “My husband. My son.”

  “You feel the darkness when you read the symbols, don’t you?” Ellen says with an ominous tone.

  Laura studies the symbols again. She nods. “How long will it take you to translate the runes?”

  Ellen scans the spyglass again. “A few hours, maybe. You have somewhere you need to be?”

  Laura takes out her phone. “I was on the way to meet Paul at the airport when my car broke down. He’s about to do something stupid, I can feel it.”

  Ellen can see that she’s a powder keg about to blow. “Stay here and help me figure this out.”

  “Aurora said I will choose.” Laura’s anxiety becomes a full-blown panic attack. “I can’t sit here and do nothing!”

  Ellen takes her hand and leads her onto the couch. “Come on, Laura, sit down. You are pregnant, remember? You need to take care of yourself and your child.” She stops her from getting up off the couch. “Breathe.”

  As she follows her sister’s instruction, Laura lets go of the tension she’s holding. The storm of emotions brewing inside her surges with renewed intensity. It feels bigger than anything she’s experienced in this life. It feels bigger than she can handle. Laura breathes into the storm with warrior intent. But Leucosia’s siren song returns to permeate her awareness and intensify the storm until it consumes her. She lies down on the couch and falls asleep.