Siren Song

19

Rage is almost never a good thing. Rage makes it hard to think, hard to plan. Now that I’m less than human, it brings the hunger to the surface, makes my powers manifest in ways that are obvious and terrifying. Still I could not help but feel a fine, burning rage at Stefania. She’d cursed children, one of them an infant. She probably had some sort of reason, but let me tell you, no reason would be good enough. What she’d done was so wrong, so evil, it made my skin crawl. It also made my skin glow. The only thing keeping my vampire side from fully manifesting was the shock and exhaustion of having faced down the demon.

I took the tray of food I’d found in the kitchen of the guesthouse up to my suite, settling down on the couch with the balcony doors thrown wide open to let in the fresh air. The day wasn’t that hot, the air conditioner wasn’t running, and I was feeling more than a little claustrophobic.

Pouring a mug of soup and another of coffee, I tried to calm down, to clear my head.

Somebody had to have called the demon onto this plane of existence. Working with demons taints a person, alters their thoughts and feelings, subtly at first, then more and more obviously. Both Stefania and Ren had been acting odd and very aggressive. Personally, I was thinking Stefania was the prime candidate. She’d been with Queen Lopaka when Pili had asked permission to work with me. A woman who would put a death curse on a six-year-old and an infant was capable of pretty much anything.

Yes, Stefania was my girl. But I was thinking that as quietly as I could. I didn’t know how much, or which, thoughts the sirens could/would be listening to. They probably had some social rules about eavesdropping. But good manners weren’t going to keep my enemies from rummaging around in my brain. Still, now that I could communicate telepathically, there were other people to include in the discussions.

Well, not people, per se.

Ivy, are you here? The overhead light flicked on and off. Am I right? Is she the one who cursed us? The light flickered and the temperature in the room dropped like a stone.

You’re absolutely sure? A single flicker and frost began forming on my glass of fruit juice.

Ghosts are spirits of the dead tied to something or someone they’ve got unfinished business with. Ivy’s business was with me. I’d always assumed that she wants me to forgive my mother. If that was the case, she was going to be with me for a long, long, time. But maybe she was bound to earth to find her murderer. Not the men who kidnapped us but the person who had cursed her to that fate when she was only a baby.

Ghosts were once human, but it’s important to remember that they aren’t human anymore. They have their own powers, their own agendas, and their own limits. Ivy wasn’t a terribly powerful ghost. She’d never be able to take over someone’s body the way Vicki had at the Will reading. Ivy had never done any really impressive physical stuff. But she had one ability that all ghosts shared. Access to knowledge. Because the spirits of the dead . . . I don’t want to say they “talk” to each other, because it’s simpler than that and more profound. It’s almost as if they have a shared consciousness. They’re still individuals. But what one knows they all know. If Ivy was certain Stefania was the one who cursed us, it was because she had access to information I didn’t.

And ghosts can’t lie.

I know you want to get even with her. A single flash of the light confirmed it. I do, too. But we’ve got to be careful. She’s powerful and smart. Can you be patient while I handle it?

Nothing. No signal at all. Which I suppose meant “maybe.”

Do you trust me?

The answer was slow in coming, but eventually the light flickered once. Yes.

Will it make you happier if I promise to include you in whatever plans I make? The light flashed almost before I could finish the sentence.

All right, then.

“You should probably talk to Maintenance about that light.”

Creede stood in the open door to my suite looking much spiffier than the last time I’d seen him. He was wearing gray dress slacks and a black Ralph Lauren polo shirt. A black leather belt and matching dress shoes completed the outfit. I had to admit, he certainly did clean up nice. Really nice.

“You went shopping.”

“Yeah. I needed a few things. I picked up some items for King Dahlmar while I was at it. Thank God for credit cards.” He smiled. “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure, why not?”

He strolled through the room to take the seat directly across from me. Leaning back, he crossed his legs, the perfect picture of comfort.

“So, I hear you managed to get yourself into some more trouble while the king and I were otherwise occupied. You okay?”

“Better now that I’ve eaten and rested.” I sipped my drink, which was, thanks to Ivy, quite nicely chilled. “What have you been up to besides shopping?”

“Hey, don’t knock it.” Creede pointed a finger at me in mock warning. “It was hard enough on Dahlmar, begging Queen Lopaka for assistance, without making him do it in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt.”

I could see where that would’ve been gratuitously humiliating. It would also make it harder for him to be taken seriously. Appearances matter more than most people are willing to admit.

“And how did the negotiations go?” I was going to switch from fruit juice to broth but decided against it. Cold broth. Ick.

“Well, we have a plan.”

I thought about saying something sarcastic like, “Gee, John, you sound so excited, tell me more,” but he was obviously frustrated, so I decided to opt for diplomatic silence.

“Queen Lopaka doesn’t completely agree that there’s a siren involved, but she’s willing to give him limited assistance to help him take back his throne.”

I raised an eyebrow and took a long pull on my coffee as I waited for the other shoe to drop. “How limited?”

“One plane, one pilot, and a dozen elite troops: their equivalent to the Navy Seals.”

My eyes widened and my mouth opened. “She thinks that’s enough to put him back in power?” Crap. That wasn’t a plan, that was assisted suicide.

“Adriana is a clairvoyant; she saw a potential weakness in Kristoff’s plan that we might be able to exploit even with limited resources.”

Creede leaned forward in his seat. His expression was intent. “From what we’ve been able to find out, from the clairvoyants and through magical means, Kristoff is going to announce his brother’s death from a ‘tragic accident’ this afternoon. The faux Dahlmar will immediately fly back from the peace talks in Greece. Somewhere over the Aegean the plane will go down, with all hands lost, leaving Kristoff to take the throne.”

Just like Dahlmar predicted. I wondered if the king had more going for him than just a charismatic personality.

Yes, that plan would make Kristoff a mourning successor rather than an evil usurper in the minds of the people. Not a bad idea, really. Sadly, not all that hard to pull off, either. One of the reasons I hate flying is one well-placed curse and it’s all over but the crying.

“If King Dahlmar takes Queen Lopaka up on her offer, we’re going to fly to an island in the Aegean where the necessary modifications will be made to our plane to make a switch possible. The clairvoyants have given us a time and place and the identification information for the plane Kristoff is crashing—”

“They’re going to try a switch?” I couldn’t believe it. I mean, yeah, I believed it. But oh, crap, there were so many things that could go wrong.

“Princess Adriana gave it an eighty percent chance of success.”

“Eighty?” She had to be being optimistic. I wouldn’t even have gone as high as fifty-fifty.

“She seemed to think there was the possibility of betrayal.” He said it totally deadpan, but there was a twist to his lips that spoke of wry humor. “She was more than a little concerned about it since she’s going to be the pilot.”

And then I put two and two together. An island in the Aegean.

“What?” Creede read my face like an open book.

“Would the island we’re using just happen to be ruled by Stefania?”

Okay, there’s desperate and there’s stupid, and I was beginning to think this plan leaned more toward the latter than the former. I might have opened my mouth to say something, but the king himself appeared at my doorway at that moment. He was dressed in a gray suit, off the-rack but nice, with a crisp white shirt and conservative tie. But the shoulders beneath the jacket were hunched, as if the blows he’d received these past few days were finally starting to catch up with him.

“I have no choice. I have no military. I am not willing to reveal my circumstances to any other country’s leaders. My hope was that the queen of the sirens would support me in order to clean her own house. This is not a perfect plan, perhaps not even a good plan. But it is the plan we have with the resources available.”

He appeared calm, but I suspected the appearance was deceptive. Still, you don’t go into a tricky military operation with a sense of defeat. It’s too likely to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. “It would be easier to walk away. But I cannot. Whether my son is being manipulated or has betrayed all I hold dear, he is not fit to rule. I cannot leave my people to suffer at his hands.” Sorrowful but determined, he continued, “I will be leaving here at seven this evening. You may choose for yourselves whether you will join me.” With that, he left.

Well, hell.

“I did some research. He’s a very good king,” Creede said softly.

“From what I understand, his son’s an idiot.”

“So we go?”

I sighed. “I just wish it wasn’t Stefania’s island.”

“Why?”

I hesitated for a long moment but finally told him: about the curse, the fact that someone had to have summoned the demon. Stefania had one hell of a motive to make sure we didn’t survive the attempt.

Creede surprised me when he shook his head. “It couldn’t have been Stefania who called the demon today.”

“Why not?”

“She was in the meeting with Dahlmar, Lopaka, and Adriana. I was outside the doors. None of them left the room until after your meeting with the seer went south. And I checked them myself to ensure nobody was a demon in disguise.”

Well, hell. That sort of messed with my theory. “So, she’s responsible for the curse but not the rest of it?”

A shrug. He didn’t disbelieve what I saw in the crystal bowl, which was something at least. “It’s possible.”

I snorted at his carefully blank expression. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

He rose with a sigh. “No, I don’t. But I pray you’re wrong. Because Dahlmar’s determined to do this. And if you’re right, everyone on that plane is going to be dead meat.”

“Get some rest,” I told him. “I’m going to go talk to my aunt.”