Siren Song

24

“Is this another one of Dahlmar’s plans?” It was late evening and I was sitting in a cheap motel room. There wasn’t much space, the whole place was probably only twelve-by-twelve, with most of the room taken up by a double bed. There was a dresser and a battered old television, a mini-fridge, a microwave, and one of those small prefab laminate tables, its surface pocked with cigarette scars. Helen Baker had set up a scrying bowl in the center of the table and was trying to sooth my frazzled nerves by showing me what was going on.

It wasn’t helping. I was in a foul mood and trying not to take it out on anyone. Of course the only person I could take it out on right now was Baker, and she wasn’t exactly the type to put up with it.

I looked up from the scrying bowl to the woman using it. Baker might not be as powerful a clairvoyant as her mother but had enough talent for this. She also had the added advantage of being able to do double duty and serve as a guard.

“King Dahlmar may have been involved in the planning, I’m not sure.” She gave me a puzzled look.

“It just sounds like one of his plans.” I drained the last of my packaged shake and tossed the empty can into the trash. I knew I should stop grumbling, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. A big part of it was that the plan had been foisted on me. I hadn’t been part of the process. I’d just been told what to do. I don’t obey orders well. But the people in charge of this operation were all heavy hitters and I owed more than one of them my freedom and/or my life. So I went along . . . grudgingly. It didn’t help that I thought it was damned cruel, allowing most of my friends and family to believe I was dead—to the point of actually holding the visitation and funeral. Only a very choice few were privy to the truth: King Dahlmar, Matty, Bruno, Kevin, Creede, Queen Lopaka and a couple of her people, and my grandmother. Too many, really. If you want to keep a secret a secret, you don’t tell anyone.

“They couldn’t have at least picked a high-end hotel for this?”

Baker laughed. “High-end hotels have security cameras and staff that actually pay attention to the comings and goings. Our people wouldn’t be able to stand guard unnoticed.”

True enough. But still. I couldn’t help but look at the grubby carpeting again, not really wanting to walk across it in shoes, much less barefoot.

I turned my attention back to the scene playing out in the bowl. I’d been afraid Gran wouldn’t be able to pull off the whole mourning thing, but I could see she was acting up a storm. Maybe she’d missed her true calling in life.

“You did actually die, you know. During the exorcism.” Baker sounded impressed. I was guessing it was because of the exorcism, not the death. Being in the military, she’d probably seen plenty of the latter. Then again, the sirens aren’t exactly a military superpower, so maybe not.

“So they tell me.” King Dahlmar and Matty had arranged for me to have an exorcism right at the scene. A little unusual, but Creede’s spell had actually held the demon away from me and they were afraid if they waited, the demon would be able to zero in again. I’d gone along because I wanted the demon mark off of me. If we were going after Eirene to rescue Emma, none of us could afford for me to have that kind of a weakness. First, Matty had cleansed the room, moving in smaller and smaller circles until only Creede and I were left. The closer Matty got, the worse I started to feel and the more Creede had to drain his own energy to keep the gate closed.

I didn’t really remember the actual exorcism. I only remember Matty starting to chant in a singsong voice and then hideous, intense pain engulfed me for what seemed like an eternity. The pain was followed by . . . nothing. Light, air, and absolute quiet. I remember standing with Ivy and Vicki and that they wouldn’t let me step past them. I vaguely remember Vicki pushing me down a long flight of stairs . . . and then there was pain again as apparently my soul rushed back into my body.

When I first woke, I’d been incredibly angry with Vicki. More than I had ever been before. Later, I realized what had happened and I was grateful. In what was very likely her last act on this plane of existence she’d saved me one last time.

I shuddered, my hand automatically reaching to touch the scars from where the demon had clawed me. Weird, that. Before the exorcism there hadn’t been scars—just an invisible mark that had served as a psychic tie he could follow to find me anywhere. The full rite had cut that tie. Thank God there was a medic ready with the heart machine. It wasn’t until after they revived me that the scars had appeared. I only wish I were confident that the demon mark was gone. But I didn’t think it would be until Eirene was dead.

I watched the image of Dottie moving slowly up the aisle with her walker. Her expression was solemn, not sad precisely, more worried. I wondered then, if she knew. Clairvoyant that she was, she might just have “peeked.” It was something she’d do. She looked up and I could swear her eyes met mine, that she could see me watching.

“I just don’t see the point,” I protested. “What makes anyone think my dying is going to bring Eirene out of the woodwork?”

Baker explained it to me again, with only a hint of impatience. “She is obsessed with you. You ruined her plans. You have everything she wants. She will want to be sure you are dead. And failing that, the demon possessing her wants you. He felt you die. But if he can search all of the various planes of existence for you, he will not find you. And then he will wonder.”

“That doesn’t mean it’ll draw them out.”

“The bowl says otherwise. I’ve seen it and so have all of the others.”

I didn’t say a word, just looked at her. She knew as well or better than I did that the future is subject to change. And while the odds got better if more than one clairvoyant got the same images, that didn’t make it certain.

“Fine. Our profilers and those of the church agree that it is in the nature of this particular demon to require it of her. It is most likely that he is the one in charge by now, whether Eirene knows it or not.”

That seemed likely. “But it makes no sense.”

She threw up her hands in a gesture of irritated surrender. “Celia, think about what you said. She’s insane. He’s a demon. Of course it makes no sense to sane humans. Why would it?”

Okay, fine. I could concede that, but I still didn’t like it. Something about the whole plan just felt . . . wrong. I am more of a believer in planning than hunches—probably because I never was psychic enough to get hunches. But I could understand now why people believe in them. I was even more convinced something was wrong when the temperature in the room began to plummet.

“Something’s happening.” Could one of the ghosts have remained behind to see this through? Whoever it was, was trying to get my attention.

“We’ve got people surrounding the building. If something was wrong, one of them would warn us.” Kevin was on guard, along with two more of Lopaka’s people. Since he’d been missing since shortly after Vicki’s death, no one would expect him to make it to my funeral. As a werewolf with a background in black ops, he was a good choice for a guard. Plus he’d insisted.

After all, Emma was his sister.

Considering his skill set and metaphysical power, I should’ve felt safe. Instead, I felt trapped.

Baker gave me a look. Whatever she saw in my face made her uneasy. She extinguished the scene playing out in the bowl, reached for her gun, and switched off the safety. I did the same thing with my gun, then patted my pockets, making sure everything else I packed was in place.

There was a tap on the door and a familiar voice whispered, “It’s Kevin. We have a change of plan.”

Uh . . . a change of plan? I don’t think so. I pulled my One Shot left-handed. The little gun of holy water didn’t require the strength or accuracy the handgun did. All I needed it was a quick squirt to make sure Kevin was Kevin. Call me paranoid if you will, but it keeps me alive.

Baker started to position herself behind the door, but I shook my head. She was strong, but she wasn’t going to be strong enough to hold the door closed against whatever might be impersonating Kevin. Hell, I wasn’t positive I was strong enough, but I had a better shot at it. So I passed her the squirt gun and got in position.

“We need to verify you’re who you say you are,” I said calmly. I wasn’t feeling calm. It was turning into an icebox in here and several small objects were starting to levitate.

“Damn it, Celia, we don’t have time—”

That was totally unlike Kevin and I flicked a glance at Helen. She scowled and nodded. Yeah, we were going to do this. Shit.

“Fine, then.” I yanked open the door and Helen sprayed him.

It wasn’t an impostor. Maybe we’d have been better off if it was.

I heard a soft pffut of sound, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting Kevin. Baker staggered back, slapping at her neck. Her gun arm rose but too slow. Kevin slapped it away as he hit the door with all his strength and weight.

Crap. Kevin had been turned. Or was he ever on our side? He’d left me a note after Vicki died that said he’d “be back for me.” Was I one of his “hard targets”? As a sleeper agent, he could keep tabs on me and now he was going to kill me. I couldn’t decide whether I was more angry or hurt that he was doing this. Probably an equal mix of both.

I pressed on the door with everything I had.

I’d thought I was strong, but I was not as strong as a big, motivated werewolf. He shoved the door back like it was nothing. I dived out of the way, throwing myself between the bed and the window, and firing as I went.

I hit him. Square in the chest and hard enough to send him back a pace. But the bullet didn’t do more than piss him off. He had to be wearing a Kevlar vest.

The ghost in the room tried to help. Everything that wasn’t held down flew at Kevin’s face. He batted it all away as I scrambled to my feet and turned to flee out the hotel window.

I’d climbed onto the heater/AC unit when he grabbed me by the leg and threw me onto the glass-strewn carpet. I tried to turn my gun on him, but he had my hand in an instant. My God, the strength of him. He pinned me with his body and his arms and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. God knows I tried, squirming, fighting, and screaming for all I was worth. I bit him with the fangs, but he healed almost before I could pull them out. I was careful not to swallow, though I wanted to.

But nothing made any difference. I struggled helplessly as Warren, the man I trusted more than anyone else—even more than Bruno—strode into the room. He pulled a dart gun from his pocket and shot me. The same way he’d shot Baker.

Damn.

I couldn’t move. I tried. My body simply wouldn’t respond. I could feel my skin resting against smooth leather upholstery, could feel the movement of a car, but I couldn’t even lift an eyelid. I panicked then, because even though the adrenaline rushing through my system made my heart race until I could hear my pulse pound like a kettledrum in my ears, my body remained sullenly unresponsive.

“Please don’t struggle. You’ll only hurt yourself.” Warren’s voice was a disembodied and slightly mechanical whisper in my left ear. “I combined a curse with the drug in the dart. You won’t be able to move a single voluntary muscle until Kevin says the word that releases you.”

I felt a wave of pure unadulterated rage fueled by the pain of complete betrayal. These were two of the people I held dearest in the world. I would have given my life to defend them and they do this?

Warren’s voice sounded in my ear again. Now that I thought about it, I could feel the headset attached to my ear. “I’m so sorry, Celia. I can only imagine how angry you are right now. But we had no choice. Irene contacted Kevin through his employer. She swore she would feed Emma, body and soul, to the demon unless we turned you over to her.” He paused. “I can’t let that happen. I can’t.” He sighed. “But I won’t turn you over to that fate, either. So we’ve arranged a rescue.”

My mouth wasn’t working thanks to the curse. But I was thinking some pretty choice things about Warren, his son, and the fact that they hadn’t seen fit to include me in the planning. Did they think I wouldn’t have helped save Emma? Did they really believe I’d let her not only die but also be tortured to death and for freaking eternity? Because if that’s what they thought, they didn’t know me at all.

“They’re using magic to watch us, so Kevin doesn’t dare let on you’re conscious. When the car stops, he’ll unstrap you from the seat and take off the Bluetooth. There isn’t much time, so you have to listen carefully.”

It was a simple plan. They had betrayed me, drugged me, and stuffed me in my own car. I was now being delivered, like a sacrificial lamb, to a warehouse on the desert edge of Santa Maria. Eirene would be waiting there, with the demon and about half a dozen mercenaries. Warren didn’t say how he knew about the mercenaries. My guess was that he had hired a clairvoyant—or maybe some of Kevin’s coworkers had done manual surveillance. I’d once met one who had the ability to practically vanish—a more extreme version of the illusion that Bruno and Ivan had used. However they’d managed it, Warren was certain of the number and was confident in their abilities.

I was the bait. Kevin would bring me in for the exchange and get back Emma. At which point the nice folks at “the firm” would swoop in. Under the cover of the resulting chaos, I would escape and get Emma the hell out of there. Kevin was bringing me in the Miata so that I would have a getaway car.

It was a desperate plan, with every chance of failure. Still, it had the advantage of being simple, elegant, with success mostly dependent upon superior firepower. Of course I wasn’t getting any firepower. The assumption was that we’d all be searched when they brought me in, so I was weaponless.

Can I say how much I thought that sucked?

“What the fuck?” Kevin didn’t bother to keep the frustration and rage from his voice. The car began to slow. Terrific. We hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet and something was going wrong with the plan.

I felt the car come to a halt and heard the whir of the window going down.

The man’s voice was a Darth Vader imitation. He was using a voice synthesizer so he couldn’t be recognized. That meant it was either someone I knew or someone Kevin did. “Cut the engine and step out of the car.”

“Hello, gentlemen. What’s up?” Kevin was trying to keep cool, but I could sense his emotions. He was lividly angry and scared. I didn’t like it. He was the person everybody else feared. After a second or two of silence he turned off the car, apparently instructed by hand motions. He spoke one more sentence before the door handle jiggled from the outside: “What’s the problem?”

A wave of power hit me like a sledgehammer as soon as the word “problem” left his mouth. The magic holding me back was released so suddenly it was all I could do not to give the game away by gasping or opening my eyes.

The Darth Vader voice spoke again: “Out. Get out. Now.”

I heard the car door open, felt it shift as Kevin climbed out. I wanted so badly to move, to do something. But my one advantage right now was the fact that they thought I was unconscious. I had to bide my time and wait for the right moment. The truth was that I wasn’t positive I could move yet. My hands and feet were bound. My seat belt was on. And the drugs hadn’t worked their way out of my system.

Warren’s voice in my ear, sounding afraid: “Celia. What’s happening? I heard Kevin release you. What’s wrong?”

I cracked open my eyes a bare slit. An armed guard was watching me through the window. So I didn’t dare answer. Not out loud at any rate.

“Hands against the car.” I felt the car shift as Kevin put his weight on his hands against the hood. “Feet spread and back.” They were frisking him and the search was apparently pretty damn fruitful.

Warren. I still wasn’t very good at talking mind-to-mind, but I’d learned enough during my brief stay with the sirens to manage it. I tried to picture El Jefe’s face, tried to think of my words being written on paper and stuffed in his ear canal. I just hoped Eirene wasn’t listening, or things were going to go even further south than they already had. They had a roadblock set up. They’re frisking Kevin now. I’m faking still being unconscious.

“Do you know where you are?” Warren’s voice was an urgent hiss. Yay, I got through.

Faking unconsciousness, eyes closed. Even mentally it sounded bitchy. Then again, I wasn’t precisely the happiest camper at the moment.

“Celia, we have reinforcements, but they’re outside the warehouse. I have to know where to send them.”

I was deciding how best to go about it when I heard the first male voice give another order.

“Check the girl.”

Hang up Warren, now.

The door next to me opened. If I could’ve moved I might have used the advantage of surprise to fight. There were obviously problems with that. First, they were armed, I wasn’t. Neither was Kevin. And while I might want to kill him, I didn’t want them to do it. Too, even if I got away, the same basic problem remained. They had Emma. Our best chance at getting her back was to stick with Warren and Kevin’s plan. Warren, have them use magic to trace us.

I couldn’t move, at least not well enough to fight. Warren’s curse might have lifted, but the drugs hadn’t worn off. I let my eyes fly open, but that was the most I could manage. I had no choice but to sit there, utterly limp, as a strange man ran his hands all over my body. I fought down a wave of rage and panic. I tried to scream, I couldn’t help it. Too many memories. But all that came out was a whistling squeak that wouldn’t even carry outside the car. At least this wasn’t personal—some sadistic treasure hunter getting his jollies. It was just business. He was thorough, too, even to the point of running his fingers through my hair checking to make sure nothing had been hidden in it. He found the earpiece.

“She’s clean. She was wearing a phone, but the line is dead and she can’t talk anyway.”

“You sure?”

“She tried to scream when I searched her.”

“Bound?”

“Duct tape, hands and feet. Can’t tell whether it’s spelled or not.”

“Hands in front or behind the back?”

“In front.” My guy sounded disgusted by that. Apparently he was a pro and knew better. There are so many things you can do, even bound, if your hands are in front of you, and there’s a much better chance of escape.

Kevin’s voice came next, calm and clear. “There was no point in hurting her. It was just a precaution in case the drugs wore off more quickly than they should. Her metabolism is pretty weird. Besides,” he continued, “you know as well as I do that it’s hard to get the body to sit right in the car seat with the arms behind the back. I didn’t want to get pulled over by the cops.”

The grunt from the man next to me might have been an acknowledgment. It couldn’t have been exertion from lifting me out of the car. I’m not that heavy.

He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of grain. My head hung down nearly to his waist. The drugs were wearing off, but I had a horrible case of cottonmouth and my head was throbbing in time with each of his steps, to the point where I was in real danger of tossing my cookies. That would be bad with tape over my mouth. It would be easy to choke to death. Of course, I was facedown, so likely all that would happen is that the vomit would pool my sinuses and run out my nose.

Ick.

I tried to get my bearings with no success. Two men appeared from a hiding place next to the road, which was blocked by a pair of black SUVs. The first climbed into the Miata and took off, with the SUVs trailing it. The second man strolled over to our group.

“Should’ve put her in the trunk.”

“Have you seen what passes for the trunk of a Miata? No way she’d fit.” Kevin sounded disgusted. A couple of the men laughed shortly.

There were six of them. They cuffed Kevin, using handcuffs with hefty enough spells that I could feel the magic from ten feet away. Even so, they made sure that four men surrounded him, staying out of reach, weapons at the ready. A werewolf is no laughing matter. The man carrying me stayed well back and behind him. The man from the road, with his very businesslike semiauto, followed.

The scrub brush that lined both sides of the road gave way to loose rock, sand, and cactus. We were climbing. The man carrying me was breathing hard but didn’t say anything. Then again, neither did anybody else. The whole march was eerily silent; even the creatures native to this place had gone still at our approach. I was thinking hard, trying to figure out who to call for help and what landmarks to give them. There weren’t any. Desert covers a lot of territory in Southern California. We were far enough away from the bulk of the city that light pollution was minimal but not so far out that there weren’t still a few warehouses.

There was a definite chill to the breeze and the sky overhead was a rich indigo blue. I could see more stars than you ever catch sight of in town. I tried to find the North Star to orient myself, but it was too much effort to move my head and neck even that much. Which meant I had no freaking idea where I was. None.

Kevin, where are we?

I spoke in his mind. But it was Eirene who answered me, just before I felt a wall of power cut us off from outside help. It locked us down so that no magic, not even telepathy, would be able to penetrate.

The words she spoke raised every hair on my body: A place where no one will hear you scream.