The Eldritch Conspiracy

3

It was my morning for siren trouble. After Laka left, I started sorting through my messages, trying to put them in order of priority. The most important, and worrisome, were the multiple messages from Lopaka and her daughter Adriana. I knew Adriana was in the process of planning her weddings, plural, to King Dahlmar of Rusland. Other than sending an RSVP—regrets for the daylight ceremony on Serenity, because of my vampish skin problems; a big yes to the church ceremony in Rusland because I’ve always wanted to see Europe—I had no connection to the wedding. Since Adriana and I aren’t close, that was no surprise.

Still, they were calling. Eight or ten times each. That meant there was a crisis of some sort. Crap. I so didn’t want to deal with whatever it was. I wanted to ease back into my life, try to make some decisions about my future when I wasn’t caught up in the crisis of the moment. But there you go. I picked up the phone and dialed the number Hiwahiwa, the queen’s assistant, had left, and got her assistant, who told me that the queen was unavailable, but would call me back at her convenience.

So I hung up and dialed Adriana.

Now my great-aunt and I get along well, despite the fact that she’s royal, and I’m an American and pretty irreverent besides. But Adriana? That’s a whole ’nother story. The princess can be very … princessy. A diva’s diva. She has a crown and an attitude, and definitely knows how to use both. On top of that she was busy getting ready for the impending nuptials, so I figured I’d get shunted off to an even longer line of assistants. Instead, she answered herself and on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“This is Celia Graves—”

She interrupted me before I could finish. “Celia, thank God! Tell me you’re back from Mexico.” She spoke in a rush, her voice breathless. At a guess I’d have said she was desperate, but that was so out of character as to be completely unbelievable.

“I’m back.”

“Oh good.” The relief in her voice was palpable. What the hell was going on? “How soon can you make it down to the docks? We need to talk.”

I glanced at the wall clock. Not even ten thirty, my first day back, and I was already hip deep in crises. Not a record for me, but close. “Give me an hour.”

I grabbed my Bluetooth earpiece and headed for my car. I might as well make a couple of calls on the way. I had to leave a message on Bruno’s voice mail, but got hold of Emma. A clairvoyant, she wasn’t exactly surprised that I’d made it back, but she did sound hugely relieved. She didn’t admit it, but I was guessing she’d “peeked” in the mirror she sometimes used as a focus. If she’d been watching me in Mexico, she’d probably gotten quite the eyeful.

We didn’t chat long. She had a class to teach and traffic was getting heavy enough that I needed to concentrate on my driving.

Despite the traffic, I made it to the marina with time to spare. I knew my way around from back when a good friend kept his fishing boat here, so it was easy to find Adriana’s slip. Actually, it would have been easy for anyone who knew anything about sirens—all you had to do was follow the gulls. They led the way, soaring and swooping and cawing with excitement, to the nicest yacht in the place.

Calling Adriana’s vessel a boat was like calling the Hope Diamond a pretty rock. Her ship was freaking huge, with hand-carved teak and brass fittings. The stairway was steep. Not a gangplank—actual stairs. Everything was elegant and perfect, very much like Adriana herself.

Though I had to admit she wasn’t entirely perfect. As Queen Lopaka’s only daughter, Adriana should have been heir to the throne. Unfortunately, she wasn’t siren enough, because like Emma Landingham, she was a clairvoyant. “True” siren talent can’t coexist with any other paranormal or magical abilities, so she would never take her mother’s throne. Worse, she probably had already seen in a vision just who would.

Fate can be so cruel.

She would never rule the Isle of Serenity, but Adriana was every inch a princess. It’s all about the attitude. Today she was wearing big movie-star sunglasses, a man’s dress shirt in white, blue jeans, and boat shoes. On her, it all looked like the height of fashion. Her long red hair had been tied back in a loose tail that did not distract from the amazing bone structure of her face. She was stunning. On my best day I don’t look that good. That bothers me more than it probably should.

Adriana met me at the gangplank and invited me on board.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She smiled, and dolphins began jumping and playing in the water next to the boat. Overhead, my seagull escort wheeled and cawed happily before settling down on various high spots to watch.

Ever the gracious hostess, Adriana led me to a pair of built-in benches around a small table near the entrance to the cabin area. “Would you like something to drink?” She signaled and a servant instantly appeared from somewhere. “We’ll have brunch now.”

“Of course, Princess.” He bowed low, backing away.

She sat and drummed her manicured fingers restlessly on the tabletop.

I waited for a little bit, letting her squirm. But I’m not really all that patient, and at the rate she was going, it would be next week before she got past the pleasantries. “Why don’t you just spit it out?”

“Excuse me?” She blinked, obviously shocked.

I smiled. I didn’t get an advantage over her often. She’s been trained to be poised in almost any situation. But it was obvious she needed something and just as obvious that she was not used to having to ask. I realized that it was highly likely that people had been anticipating her needs and whims since she’d been old enough to walk, maybe before. That explained a lot. If that was the case, she really wasn’t nearly as annoying as she could have been.

“You brought me here for a reason, and there are no assistants around, so you must need to speak with me alone. Just say whatever it is you need to say. You won’t offend me. I promise.” I smiled again to take any sting out of the words.

She laughed. “Don’t be so sure. I seem to recall the first time we met, our conversation didn’t go well at all.”

She was right, of course. I’d accused her of being unpardonably rude and she had challenged me to a duel to the death. Then again, she’d disrupted my best friend’s wake to sing a torch song. “No,” I admitted, “but we’ve come a long way since then.” I didn’t exactly like Adriana, but I’d seen enough of her that I’d grown to respect and admire her. I think she felt the same about me.

“Yes, we have.” She relaxed a bit, giving me an honest smile. “It’s because of you that I met my fiancé. Because of you, I may become queen of Rusland.”

“Will,” I corrected. “You will become queen.”

She met my gaze. “It’s still may. Apparently, it depends entirely on you.”

Oh, fuck a duck, I thought, but managed a much more appropriate, “Excuse me?”

Adriana laughed, hard. It occurred to me, belatedly, that like most sirens, she was a telepath. She’d heard exactly what I was thinking. Oops.

She laughed harder, until she had to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh, my. All right, then. I guess you won’t be offended after all. So I’ll … spit it out.”

Of course, that was when the servers appeared. Servers, plural. One carried a tray bearing a frosted pitcher. The other was toting a tray of foodstuffs, many of them blended and presented in tiny glasses or semiliquids served on individual plates.

Only when everything was just so and the servers had disappeared did Adriana communicate with me. And this time, rather than speak the words aloud where anyone might overhear, she spoke to me mind-to-mind, in the way of the sirens.

There are no assistants because I have none anymore. Both were killed two days ago when a bomb went off in the shop where they were making the final arrangements for my bridesmaids’ dresses. The shop and the dresses were completely destroyed, but that is nothing compared to the loss of life.

The people claiming responsibility call themselves the Guardians of the Faith. They’ve made threats. I have asked my dearest friend to step aside as maid of honor, because I need you to be. I know it sounds ridiculous. And I realize it is on obscenely short notice. But my mother’s prophet, as well as my own visions, have told me that I need you to be by my side—not just as a bodyguard, but as a part of the wedding—if I am to be safely wed.

There have been other disruptions besides the bombing. My jet was tampered with and crashed. Thankfully the crew survived. There have been plots to discredit me in the eyes of Dahlmar’s people and to create a royal scandal involving him. There was even an attempt on my life with poison.

People had died. These fanatics were serious. But obscenely short notice was right. The ceremonies were taking place in …

Less than two weeks. As I said, it is ridiculous. And I will understand if you are offended that I did not ask you sooner. You are, after all, my kinswoman, and you have done both Rusland and the sirens honorable service in the past. I am embarrassed that it did not occur to me to ask before. You have every right to tell me to go to hell, or even challenge me to a duel.

She was flushed and the hand holding her drink was trembling just a little. She was embarrassed. But more than that, she was afraid. I’d seen her calm and composed in actual battle conditions. But she was well and truly rattled now. That was so not good.

I answered with my mind as well. I always hate to “hear” my mental voice because it’s the sharp, bitter caw of gulls, rather than Adriana’s sweet song of island birds or her mother’s tinkle of crystal bells. Of course I’ll help. I’d be honored to serve as both your maid of honor and your bodyguard. I’ll need everything your people have on the Guardians of the Faith.”

“I’ll have Kar—

She stopped abruptly in midthought. I felt a flash of pain and sorrow when she continued. I’ll have someone send the information to your office this afternoon.

She closed her eyes for a second and I watched as she fought not to sag in relief. She was royal. Royals are not supposed to show that level of any negative emotion, particularly fear. But she was afraid: angry, hurt, sad, and absolutely terrified. Then she looked at me and thought, I am grateful for your help.

When do you want me to start?

Is tomorrow too soon? The situation truly is urgent.

I took a brief second to wave good-bye to my plan to ease back into work, then answered. Tomorrow will be fine.

Thank you.

I let out a noisy sigh before I replied. Thank me if it works.

Of course if it didn’t, we’d both be dead.