Siren Song

16

I was going to have to buy Bubba new sheets for this bed. Oh, hell, who was I kidding? I was going to have to buy him a new boat.

Mona’s Rival was still afloat—just. But the deck and cabin were riddled with bullet holes and demon claw marks. And one of the magical explosions had taken out a wall.

Of course, this fight had really been because of Creede. But Bubba would blame me.

Speaking of the attack, who were we supposed to report it to? Did Serenity count as a country? They did have their own law enforcement. But were they internationally recognized? If the siren government couldn’t, or wouldn’t, handle the whole thing aboveboard, Bubba couldn’t claim on his insurance. And Miller and the others would simply disappear, which wasn’t really fair to their families, if they had them.

As I was thinking all of this, I lay on the sheets in intense pain. I’d been too busy to notice what was happening, what with avoiding the imp and all, but the battle had taken place in full daylight. I had been nearly butt naked and hadn’t sunscreened anything other than my face. Between the fight with Adriana and the one with the demon, I had second-degree burns over most of my body. Third-degree burns where the acid had splattered. I had all kinds of nasty little injuries and there was that remaining embedded piece of baby food jar that needed to be dug out. So to try to distract myself from the pain, which wasn’t being eased all that much by the wimpy little aspirin tablets that were all Bubba had on board, I was trying to think of anything and everything else. One thing was certain. If I was going to keep running into the demonic, I was going to need to take precautions.

A light tap on the door distracted me. I pulled the lightweight cotton sheet over me for modesty’s sake. A little late for it, all things considered. But hey, we were just going to pretend I hadn’t flashed Creede, Dahlmar, and the entire siren navy as they’d come to the rescue. Apparently, I’d leapt right out of my bra when I went over the demon. Creede swears he didn’t notice.

Not even when he was handing me a towel to cover myself with.

“Come in.”

I rolled over to see who it was and immediately wished that I hadn’t. The burns were healing. But it was slow going. I’d had the last two shakes, to take the edge off of my hunger and make sure the humans didn’t look tasty, but my body apparently needed more. Less food, slower healing. But there wasn’t anything else on the boat I could digest unless I decided to go fully vampire. So until they finished hauling the boat into the harbor and found something I could drink, I was pretty much screwed.

“How are you doing?” Queen Lopaka stuck her head through the doorway. She wasn’t wearing anything ceremonial, just a pair of faded jeans and a white cotton button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She wore boat shoes, probably a good thing considering the splinters and worse that littered the deck.

“Been better,” I admitted. I probably still looked like one of the lower rungs of hell. When I’d gone into the bathroom to take the aspirin I’d scared myself. Second-degree burns on the face were not pretty. I was just glad I hadn’t burned my eyeballs. I didn’t even want to think how much that would have hurt. “Be sure to thank Ren for me. I appreciate her calling in the cavalry.”

Lopaka smiled and I swear it lit up the room. Straight white teeth and dimples to die for. “Yes, well, better late than never. You apparently did well enough all on your own. Although at some cost.” She sighed and lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. “You must be in pain. And my condolences on the loss of—”

I dipped my head and sighed. “Ivan. He was King Dahlmar’s bodyguard.” The king was beside himself, though he wasn’t showing it much. There’s a point at which a bodyguard becomes a member of the family.

“And he died in the line of duty.” She sighed again. “How do you want to handle this?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s a complete clusterfu—” I stopped in mid-syllable, horrified at myself. You don’t use language like that in front of a queen, no matter how appropriate or how casual the situation.

She laughed, hard enough to shake the bed. Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she said, “Yes, it is.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “All right. If you don’t mind, I’ll have my people handle the questioning of the remaining pirate. I’m also going to have them investigate King Dahlmar’s allegations of political tampering in Rusland. We have very stringent laws forbidding political machinations of that type. If indeed that is what’s happening.”

“You don’t think it is?”

She gave me a long look. “It’s a landlocked country.”

I put two and two together. Sirens need oceans. Need them. But just because they couldn’t live in Rusland, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t want to control the power and the gas. I started to open my mouth to say as much, but I didn’t have to. She’d been listening to my thoughts. Which I hated. I tried to stifle that thought before it got me in trouble.

“We have hospital facilities on the island. Your injuries can be tended there.”

I shook my head no. Hospitals had bleeding people. The smell of blood could make me very dangerous—particularly when I was hungry and injured. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t.” I didn’t explain further, but I didn’t have to. Either she was still eavesdropping on my thoughts or she was bright enough to figure it out on her own. She reached the right conclusion and quickly.

She gave me a horrified look. “It really is that much of a problem? I saw you looking at Adriana’s neck and you left so swiftly, but—”

“Oh, it’s a problem. So far, I’ve been able to deal with it. It’s better, easier, if I have some broth or baby food with meat. Or something with protein that’s run through the blender. But no hospital. That would just be a bad idea right now.”

“I understand.” She gave me a speculative look. “I can arrange for the food. And if you’ll let me, I can help with the pain and let you rest until it’s ready.”

“That would be lovely.”

She reached forward, touching me on the forehead. I heard her voice inside my head. Sleep.

I slept.

I woke to the smell of food: beef broth, French onion soup, and other, more exotic things that I couldn’t name but that smelled of tropical fruits and banana. Opening my eyes, I discovered it was night. I rolled over . . . and it didn’t hurt. For just a moment I reveled in the fact that I didn’t hurt. The absence of pain was absolutely glorious.

The boat wasn’t moving. Well, it was rocking gently, but not like it was out on the ocean. We’d apparently made harbor. Which explained why somebody’d felt secure enough to leave several open food containers on the nightstand next to my bed.

Vampires have terrific night vision. I didn’t even need to turn on the light. I sat up in bed and begin tearing into the food. I was ravenous and most of it tasted wonderful. I skipped the fruit drink, though. I loathe bananas. I was just finishing the last drop of soup when I noticed a slip of folded note paper that had been tucked under one of the bowls.

I unfolded it, to find a note.

We need to talk, but Queen L. said not to wake you.

We’re staying in her guesthouse. See you there.

Creede

I was glad they’d let me sleep. Now that I’d healed up and eaten, I was much safer to be around. But I wanted to clean up before I went out in public. The shower in the head on the boat was tiny but in working order. I dug up some toiletries and made myself presentable. Thankfully, some kind soul had brought my things down from the deck. It would’ve been nice to have some fresh clothes, but unless I wanted to swipe something from Bubba, I’d have to make do. Since the lavalava didn’t have any blood- or food stains, that was what I put on, covering it once more with my jacket to protect my still red and somewhat tender skin.

I sighed as I laid the empty holster on top of the bed. No point in putting it on. The gun was gone. That sucked. One of my knives was gone. That was even worse. But I was alive. Bubba, Creede, and Dahlmar were all injured, but they had made it, too. I was sorry about Ivan. But considering what we were up against, it was practically miraculous we’d only had one casualty.

I glanced at the clock built into the wall. One A.M. Most likely everybody else was in bed by now, but maybe not. Besides, having rested and fed, I was wide awake. So I picked my way through the disaster area where the mess used to be and made my way to the stairs and up top.

It was a beautiful night. Not too hot, with just enough of a breeze to flap the sails on the boats that had them and rustle the leaves of the palm trees on the shore. Water lapped gently against the hull of the boat, and the clear white moonlight made it easy to see but also made the shadows seem that much darker.

As I stepped from the cabin doorway, I saw one of those shadows move ever so slightly. Someone was trying very hard to remain unseen.

I pulled my knife and charged, using vampire strength and speed. Before my opponent knew what was coming, I was on her and she was down, pinned to the deck with the edge of my knife at her throat.

I felt magic building and I pressed down on the knife so that the tip dimpled her skin without drawing blood. “Don’t even think about it.” I hissed and bared my teeth to make the . . . point perfectly clear.

Then my vampire sight kicked in and I suddenly realized she was just a kid. She couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen. When I’d hissed at her, she’d let go of her power and lay still, her eyes wide as dinner plates. Her entire body quivered with fear. I could hear her heart pounding like a trip-hammer, her breath rasping. She was obviously terrified. But I didn’t move the knife.

I heard running footsteps and a voice called out from the dock, “Princess, is something wrong?”

“I have company.”

There was swearing and pounding feet. Three armed guards swarmed on board, shining flashlights like spotlights onto us. The kid beneath me started to cry. She was pretty, with exotic features—dark brown skin and hair that would’ve been kinky-curly if it hadn’t been kept cropped close to her skull. She was wearing a black sports bra and matching jeans. A gold belly button ring twinkled in the harsh light.

She looked up and around at the people behind the spotlights and whimpered, “My mom is going to kill me.”

“Only if I don’t do it first.” I smiled, deliberately letting her get another good look at the fangs.

She swallowed hard and tears filled her eyes. “Please don’t kill me, Princess,” she whispered.

“Give me one good reason not to.”

The nearest guard was a tall woman. Her hair was cropped short in a buzz cut that should have been very masculine. But it looked good with her chiseled features and the seriously buff body encased in camo pants and an olive tank top. The loaded weapons belts were the perfect accessories. A small, embroidered name tag was affixed to the shirt. Marks on the tag probably signified rank. Her name was Baker.

“Okalani, what are you doing here?” she snapped.

The kid didn’t answer. Tears were trailing from the corners of her eyes.

“How did you get past the guards?” I added.

“Oh, I know how she got past us,” Baker snarled. “And her mother is going to hear about it.” Baker gestured to an underling. “Go to the kid’s house and tell Laka what happened. Bring her back here with you. And send Martin to notify the palace. We don’t need this to go over the airwaves.”

The second guard took off at a trot. I still hadn’t let the kid up. The knife was still at her throat. I didn’t figure she was out to kill me. She probably wasn’t a threat. But I’m not inclined to take chances, and she needed to be taught a lesson.

Baker gestured and the rest of the guards left the boat, probably going to resume their positions. “Why are you here, Okalani?” she asked.

The kid blinked and snuffled. Tears were running freely now, but she didn’t dare move to wipe them away. “I wanted to talk to the princess. I want to know about the mainland.”

The guard shook her head. “You had to know how dangerous it was. Word of what happened to this boat is all over the island. The queen provided the princess with guards for a reason.”

The girl tensed beneath me and even through her tears I got a sense of stubborn anger. She was determined. She had balls, too. More balls than brains, actually. Pinned to the ground, knife at her neck, and she was still going to argue. “I want to meet my father.” There was pain in that simple statement, so much pain that I cringed. Because I have my own daddy issues. I still have nightmares about him turning his back on me.

“Not going to happen,” Baker said. Her voice was a little more kindly. Well, not kind, exactly, but less hostile. “You know that.”

The kid turned her head, not wanting to meet Baker’s eyes, and I had to pull the knife back a little or she would’ve cut herself.

“Why not?” I asked as I climbed off of the kid and put the knife back in its sheath.

“Mom sent him away with my baby brother. I’d be with them, but my mother thinks the mainland is too dangerous.” The kid snuffled again as she scooted herself into a sitting position and started digging in her pockets. She pulled out a tissue that looked a little worse for wear and began blowing her nose noisily.

Baker squatted down so that she was eye-to-eye with the kid. I took a few steps back, giving them room. It was obvious the guard knew the family. Maybe she could talk some sense into this Okalani. Probably not. It was painfully obvious that the kid was stubborn and headstrong. But it was worth a try and Baker was making the effort. “She’s not wrong, you know. If the princess was a full vampire, you’d have been dead before we could get to the boat.”

“There aren’t any vampires on the island.”

“True,” Baker admitted. “No werewolves, either. But there are on the mainland.”

“I wouldn’t be out after dark on the mainland,” the kid countered, her jaw jutting out aggressively. “I’m not stupid.”

“And yet you’re here.” I flashed the fangs again.

My sarcasm was not well received. Well, not by the kid. Baker gave a snort of amusement.

“I don’t belong here.” Wow, the despair those four words could hold. I felt her pain in my own chest.

Baker shook her head. “I get that. I do. Once you’re an adult you can do what you want. But you’re not old enough. Not yet. It may seem like forever, but it’s only a couple more years.”

“My mother doesn’t want me to leave at all,” Okalani said resentfully.

Baker gave a snort that might have been laughter. “Of course not. She’s your mother. Once you’re of age, she can’t stop you. Until then . . .”

“I’m trapped.”

God, she sounded bitter. Baker had been trying to be nice, but her patience was limited. I watched as her expression hardened, her gray eyes darkening to the color of storm clouds. “Yes. You are.”

I turned away from the two of them, my attention attracted by movement on the island. There was a lit path into the woods—probably the same one I’d walked earlier today—and someone was coming our way. I concentrated, deliberately getting my eyes to do the vampire hyperfocus. It took a few seconds, but I finally got it to happen. A guard was approaching, accompanied by a woman who bore a strong resemblance to Okalani. She had that scared-frustrated-angry look on her face that you see so often on the mothers of teenagers.

The guard on the path gave a call sign. One of the two on the dock answered. Once they’d been given the all clear, the mother and her escort stepped onto the dock.

I’d moved away to stand at the railing and was only half-listening to Baker explain that I’d thought I was being attacked. She told the siren that I’d had a knife at her daughter’s throat when the guards came on board and that because Okalani had broken the law by boarding the boat she was liable to be facing legal charges.

“She’s very lucky to be alive,” Baker finished.

Okalani’s mother tried to hide it, but I saw her give a tiny, full-body shudder at what might have happened. Still, her voice was cold and controlled when she spoke to her daughter. “You should apologize to the princess.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Okalani stood. I watched her take a deep breath. Gathering her courage, she walked past her mother, toward me. I turned and waited.

“I’m sorry. I wanted—” She stopped, swallowing hard. The tears were perilously close to returning, but she fought them back. “I wanted to talk to you and I knew they wouldn’t let me see you. But I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. But you need to be more careful. People have been trying to kill me. I thought you were one of them. Normally I don’t hesitate when I’m defending myself. You were really, really lucky tonight.”

She shivered. I hoped she was remembering the cold, razor-edged blade against her throat, the fangs, or both.

It was important she remember. But it was also important that she get a chance to talk to someone about the mainland. Because if she didn’t, she was liable to do something even more stupid than sneaking onto Bubba’s boat. She was desperate. I understood because I’d felt exactly the same way when I was only a little younger than she was now. I’d gone looking for my father. I’d found him with his new family. He’d turned his back on me. I hadn’t believed that was possible. I’d believed that he loved me enough . . . and he hadn’t. You can’t protect kids from everything. But I’d spare anyone that kind of pain if I could. “Look, I don’t know how long I’m going to be here or what my schedule is going to be like. But if it’s okay with your mother and we can work it out, I’m willing to sit down with you and have a talk.”

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You are?”

“If it’s okay with your mom.”

She turned to her mother, her expression pleading.

Her mother’s face was impassive. “We’ll see.” She turned to Baker. “Can we go?”

Baker nodded. “Yes. If the princess isn’t going to press charges, you can take Okalani home.”

She turned to her daughter. “Go home. Get in bed and stay there. We’re going to have a talk when I get home.”

The way she said the word “talk” made it very clear who would be talking and who would be listening. But the kid was smart enough not to argue this time.

“Yes, ma’am.” She ducked her head, gathered her power, and vanished.

The instant she was gone, her mother closed her eyes and shuddered. It took her a moment to pull herself together. When she managed it, she turned to Baker. “If you’d be so kind, I’d like to speak to the princess privately.”

Baker gave me an inquiring look. Apparently I was in charge. I guess it came with the title. “Sure. No problem.”

She waited until Baker was on the dock before coming to stand beside me at the railing. Still, at least two of the guards were in earshot. So it didn’t surprise me when she decided to talk to me mind-to-mind.

Thank you for not killing my daughter.

I try not to kill people unless it’s really necessary. It still wasn’t easy for me to communicate this way, but I was willing to work at it. Because this was obviously important to her. But it really was a close call.

I noticed that. She shivered. Hugging herself tight, she turned, looking out to the ocean in the distance. I didn’t say anything, just waited as she searched for the right words. I love her so much, but I’m not sure what to do with her. I hate admitting that. But . . . her talent is so strong. The queen suggested that she might join the guards. She could be useful moving troops on a moment’s notice, without a trace. But she hates it here. The other children pick on her so cruelly.

Why?

She stared out at everything and nothing. I forget, you don’t know about us. She turned around, resting her back against the railing, her eyes meeting mine. The siren talent does not coexist well with other magical abilities. So those with siren talent do not manifest strong magical or psychic talents. They rarely even have another minor ability. She paused for a moment, then went on. There are not many children among our people. If one of them shows a magical ability, particularly a strong one . . .

She’s not going to be able to do the siren thing.

No.

Ren can teleport, I observed.

The other woman nodded. Yes, but only herself and one other.

I stared into the distance, instead of staring at her and making it obvious we were talking. Heaven only knew who could overhear. And her siren abilities?

Weak. Very weak. She can influence, but only temporarily, and the very strong willed may be able to resist her.

Not such a good thing for a princess. Adriana? I asked, because I had to.

Clairvoyant. She does not have a prophet because she is a prophet.

So, neither was going to be considered suitable to rule. Which explained the bitterness. With her talent, Adriana probably could see who would get the throne. Fate can be so cruel.

My daughter can teleport a dozen easily, possibly even two dozen with effort. But she hasn’t even enough siren abilities to talk mind-to-mind.

And the other kids give her shit for it.

Oh yes.

Poor kid. I could relate. I’d caught all kinds of hell, growing up—until the day I beat the crap out of the biggest, baddest kid on the playground. They stopped tormenting me then. The other kids still didn’t like me and it didn’t stop the whispers, but for the most part, everybody left me alone.

Poor Okalani. Teleportation is a very rare talent. She might do well on the mainland when the time comes.

Yes, she might. But she needs to be an adult. Her father has made it very clear that he won’t help. He is most bitter at having been sent away. He has a new wife and a new life. She has adopted our son as her own but has “no interest” in our daughter. I could force him, if he hadn’t taken steps.

Steps?

He wears a charm similar to the ones your client and Mr. Creede wear. She gave me a sour look. I believe his new wife bought it for him. He could not have afforded such a thing on his own.

Ouch. But it was interesting that Creede had one. I hadn’t known that. I’m sorry. I thought about it for a moment. You haven’t told Okalani about her father’s new family, have you?

That he rejected her? No. It seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Maybe she was right. But the kid was going to find out eventually.

Maybe so. She’d read my thoughts. I’d have to be careful of that. But I’d like to spare her that particular pain as long as I can. She uncrossed her arms and straightened. Speaking out loud for the first time, she said, “I must go and try to talk sense to my daughter.”

“Good luck with that.” My tone was dry, but I meant it. She’d need every bit of luck she could scrounge up to get through Okalani’s thick teenage skull.

“Thank you for not killing her and for agreeing to speak with her. Maybe you can get through to her.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She gave me a sad smile, followed by a very low bow, and left.

I watched her walk along the path until she disappeared into the night. It was time to find Creede and Dahlmar. I hoped the guesthouse had Internet access. I wanted to check my e-mail. I was worried about El Jefe’s friend from UCLA and hoped that Em had written about her first day at work. I should also have word from the bank and from Roberto about my mom’s case. Real life, such as it was, was still moving right along, whether or not I was home to participate.

I walked over to the ladder and climbed down to the dock. I didn’t look back at the wreck of the Mona. It’d just make me sad.

Baker came up to greet me almost immediately. “Is there something we can do for you, Highness?”

“Creede left me a note that they were going to the guesthouse?”

“Ah.” Raising fingers to her lips, she gave a ear-piercing whistle. Almost immediately I heard the soft purr of an electric motor. In an instant, a golf cart driven by a uniformed guard pulled up. Two others jogged along beside.

A golf cart? I must’ve looked as surprised as I felt, because Baker was smiling. “No automobiles are allowed on the east half of the island, where the royal compound is. West Island is as modern as you could want. There’s even an international airport. East Island has the compound, the queen’s private docks, and the nature preserve.”

All right then. “Are they going to—”

“Jog alongside the vehicle all the way to the guesthouse?” She grinned. “Yes. We are.” She winked at me. “Fortunately, it’s only about a mile. It’s been a long day.”

At her gesture, I climbed in. I’d barely gotten my seat belt fastened before we were zipping along a narrow strip of pavement, heading steeply uphill. Baker and her guards kept pace. I jog nearly every day, but I wouldn’t have wanted to run that hill in full gear and honest-to-God army boots. Still, they might be sweating, but they didn’t seem to be struggling. Maybe I needed to up my regimen.

She hadn’t misled me. It wasn’t far and like the clearing where the ceremony had been held, it wasn’t obviously visible until you were very nearly upon it. When we got within a couple hundred yards, motion sensors at the edge of the trail brought fairy lights to life. Perimeter lights came on when the vehicle pulled to a stop in the wider section of pavement used for parking.

I don’t know architecture. I don’t know what style goes by what name, and periods are something women have once a month. But I dated an architect for a few months a while back. He was a nice guy but boring. His absolute hero, the man he bored me to tears about, was Frank Lloyd Wright. He spent hours poring over everything ever written about Fallingwater.

That’s what this looked like, right down to the waterfall, though the stones were darker. Wow. And this was just the guesthouse. Apparently Queen Lopaka knew how to live.

I climbed out and started walking. Baker fell in beside me. The other guards moved, dark and silent as my very own shadow, directly behind us.

Another pair of guards appeared at the doorway. Passwords were exchanged, holy water was sprayed by both sides. I approved. Since we’d had a verified imp encounter on the boat Queen Lopaka’s people weren’t taking any chances. Very professional. I like professional.

One of the guards pressed a series of buttons on the keypad next to the front door. A light flashed green, the door opened, and I stepped over a threshold with enough buzzing power to take my breath away.

Baker noticed my wince and where I was rubbing my already sore arms. “Sorry, Princess. But we upped the wards and also spelled the building so nobody can to teleport in or out.”

Actually, that was nice to know. “Thank you.”

“It’s my job. So long as you’re on the island, my team is charged with your personal security.”

I had my own secret service detail? Seriously. Oh, that was just wrong on more levels than I could count.

“I’d appreciate it if you could give us a couple minutes’ notice before you leave the building.”

I could understand that, having worked the other side of the equation. “I’ll do that. I’m probably in for the night, though.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “Explore the building all you want. Your suite is the top floor and has a balcony with an ocean view. It’s a sheer drop, so there’s no good spot for a sniper, and the space has been spelled. No chance of getting pushed off, either.”

She was giving me more detail than I expected, and I appreciated it. Then again, she’d probably been briefed that I worked in security and was making sure I knew they had all the bases covered.

“Thank you.”

“Again, it’s my job. But you’re welcome.” She bowed and let herself out.

There was a lot to explore, all of it gorgeous and still comfortable enough to make you feel like you could put up your feet and unwind. I found Bubba in the TV room doing just that, watching football highlights on the big screen. Beside him were half a dozen empty beer bottles and a big bowl of buttered popcorn.

“Yo, Graves.” His greeting lacked its usual warmth.

“Yo, Bubba.” I walked behind the wet bar and opened the fridge. It was fully stocked with several different varieties of beer, juices for mixing drinks, and a few cans of soda. I grabbed one of the latter, flipped open the top, and went to make myself comfortable on one of the bar stools.

He didn’t say anything, keeping his eyes glued on the game. Shit. Well, I could either sit here and let him give me the cold shoulder or grab the bull by the horns.

“Bubba, I’m really sorry about the Mona. I told you I was into something bad, but I didn’t expect it to be that bad.”

“It’s not the boat.” He dropped his feet to the floor, rose, and went behind the bar to get another beer. Twisting the cap off, he tossed it toward the waste can . . . and missed. He never misses. He was drunk. Holy crap. Bubba can hold his alcohol. He must’ve had a lot of beer—more than the empties indicated. Still, his feet were absolutely steady as he came around the bar and took the stool next to mine.

“How many years have we known each other, Celia?”

He was using my first name. Not good.

“A few.”

“You’ve been to my kid’s birthday parties, helped me pick out Mona’s anniversary gifts.”

This was going nowhere good. “Yeah.”

“And you never told me you’re a princess? That you have your own freaking secret service detail?”

I interrupted him before he could get any more outraged. I needed to nip this in the bud. I’d thought he was pissed about the boat. This was worse. He thought our entire friendship had been based on a lie. “I know. How weird is that?” I shook my head in disbelief. “I’m a bodyguard and they give me bodyguards?”

He opened his mouth, but I waved him to silence.

“Bubba, you’ve met my gran. You’re my mom’s bail bondsman, for Christ’s sake. You’ve seen the house where I grew up. I didn’t hide anything from you. Until Vicki’s wake, I had no idea any of this shit existed. I swear it to you.”

“But—”

“I didn’t even know I had siren blood until after the vampire bite. If the bat hadn’t tried to bring me over, the talents wouldn’t have manifested and none of this would’ve happened. To be honest, I didn’t really believe the woman when she told me I was siren royalty. I mean seriously, that is so . . . Disney.”

Surprised, he choked a little on his beer but managed to swallow it. “Oh, God, I’m picturing you starring in that movie—the one Sherry likes so much.”

Sherry was his daughter, eight years old and every inch the little princess down to her rhinestone tiara and pink tulle bedroom. She had her daddy wrapped around her little finger and had made him watch The Princess Diaries with her over and over again.

I rolled my eyes, but it was mostly for effect. He was grinning like an idiot. Thank God.

“Can it, Bubba.”

He started humming. I didn’t know the theme song for the movie, but I’d be willing to bet that was what it was.

I grabbed the first thing I could reach on the bar—one of those little foil bags of roasted nuts—and flung it at him. He caught it in midair, giggling like a lunatic. He ripped it open, still chortling. It took him a minute or two to settle down. I didn’t mind waiting. We were going to be all right. I was glad. I don’t have enough friends to be willing to lose one over something stupid.

He ate a few nuts with a chaser of beer. I sipped my soda.

“I called Mona, told her what happened.”

Oh, shit. Mona was gonna kill me. “Maybe it’s a good thing I’ve got those secret service types.”

He choked again and this time he wound up coughing. I patted him on the back. A useless gesture, but I was pretty sure he didn’t need the Heimlich.

Tears were flowing from his eyes. “Oh, God, Graves, don’t do that to me.”

“Sorry,” I apologized meekly.

He shook his head. “I told her about the imp. How you stood toe-to-toe with it, damn near bare-ass naked, and fired a One Shot of holy water down its gullet.”

He sounded awed and it made me blush. It sounded a lot more impressive than it was. Honest truth, I hadn’t had a lot of choice. I mean, it was a frickin’ boat. It wasn’t like I’d had anywhere to go.

“You know what the wife said?” He was chortling now, his big body shaking with mirth.

“What?”

He imitated his wife’s voice as best he could: “ ‘Very impressive. But tell me something, Bubba. Why was Celia running around your boat naked?’ ”

“Oh dear.”