Chapter Two

I don't weave through the foot traffic; it parts for me. Both men and women stare at me as I pass. Even with the large sunglasses and wide brim hat hiding my face, my presence draws their attention.

Humming an off-key tune, I hurry towards my desired destination. It would be nice if I could sing beautifully like the sirens in Homer's Odyssey; however, the chance of that happening is highly unlikely without some major magical intervention. Like much Muggle lore about creatures, what's known about sirens is mostly rubbish.

When I'm about to reach the front doors of a huge steel-and-glass building, which in all honesty resembles a mammoth ice cube in my opinion, a man hurries in front of me to open the door.

"After you," he says pleasantly in German.

I remove my sunglasses and put them in my bag. I have no need to worry about being recognised since my magic can cloud the minds of others. When Harry first saw me after my transmutation, he didn't realise who I was until I introduced myself by name. It's a very useful ability when it comes to avoiding nosey reporters now that I've got a handle on it.

Giving the man a cordial smile, I say, "Danke."

He gets a stunned look on his face and swallows hard.

I rush past so that he doesn't melt into a puddle of goo at my feet. Even though humans have nothing to worry about from me, they are naturally more susceptible to my magic than wizardkind.

Once inside, I take in the space. I've never been to this particular art museum before. The entrance lobby is mostly windows and polished concrete. A feature wall in a bold blue is on the right, and shelves on it hold various white sculptures of flora and fauna. The murmur of voices gets lost in the airy space similar in size to the Great Hall. On the ceiling, a mural creates the illusion that the four-storey room is taller than it is and has no ceiling at all.

I glimpse the vibrant artwork further inside and sigh, chiding myself that I'm here to meet someone for work, not on holiday.

I walk to one of the empty tables on the left side of the room and select a chair where I can enjoy the view outside. Before sitting down, I remove my cream wool coat and lay it on the chair next to me.

Those around me overtly stare as I sit. I can't blame it on pure rudeness or my natural allure. The emerald-green jumpsuit I'm wearing with its plunging neckline would bowl my own mother over if she saw me right now.

Lifting my lunch from my bag, I smile. Yum. Recently, I found this hidden gem in Tokyo that makes the tastiest bento boxes. Inside mine are all my favourites: fresh salmon sashimi, grilled octopus, copious sheets of crunchy nori, and rice.

Since becoming a siren, I can only eat things that come from a body of water. When I discovered I could stomach rice grown in flooded fields, I literally cried tears of joy. It's taken some time getting used to, and I miss ice cream terribly, but I make do.

However, it was easier for me to accept life as a devout, fish-loving pescetarian than it was for me to embrace my siren blood. Sirens are nearly extinct; there's only three of us in the entire world. We are the mother-species of all merpeople and are considered royalty. To merpeople, I am a princess, and in the High Realm, I am a high-ranking member of the Court. It took many years for me to wrap my head around everything. But with time, I have.

Now, I accept all of me. I don't fight my curls anymore; I accentuate them. I love how my shiny, voluminous ringlets frame my face. I love my body and dare to wear clothes that show it off. And I love my quick mind and sharp tongue and never apologise for either. I only wish I could find someone to love, as well. But…it's difficult to find the time to date when one has to live a double life.

I stuff the last rectangle of nori into my mouth, and it crunches as I chew. Licking off my salt-covered fingers, I stare outside. People sitting on the lawn talk and laugh. The clouds above roll past with the light autumn breeze, changing the shadow patterns below. It really is a lovely day.

I begin to pack up my things, having decided it would be better and more enjoyable to wait outside.

Once I'm sitting on a bench next to the pavement, I remove the Journal of Arithmancy and Other Numerical Findings from my bag. I read for a while, then notice something when a certain man passes. I jump to my feet.

"Entschuldigen Sie bitte," I politely call out for his attention. "Did you drop this?" I continue fluently in German.

I stand from my bent position and open my palm, revealing a Galleon.

While the man looks down at the coin with the same amount of surprise that's on my own face, I study him. The first thing I notice is he smells strongly of cologne and coffee. His attire is cut in such a way that it passes for human but, on closer inspection, screams wizardkind. His overall appearance exudes wealth and an aristocratic air. He could easily get away with wearing a top hat and a monocle if he wanted and rock it.

"Oh," the man frowns, "thank you." He accepts the coin and then glances at the journal in my other hand. His eyebrows shoot up. "Arithmancy?" He grins with delight as his eyes openly admire me. "You're a witch."

I beam at him. "Yes." Among other things.

He offers his hand. "I'm Heinrich von Degenhard."

I take it, and we shake. "Jean Smith." Yes, it's a most uninspired alias, but Smith is both a Muggle and a pure-blood surname, so it's a fitting choice.

"Your German is very good, Frau Smith."

I blush demurely at his praise. "Danke, I'm visiting from England for my job. That's why I'm here." I point at the museum. "I've been waiting for a client."

"Client? Are you an artist?"

I smile and bite my plump bottom lip. "Of a sort."

For a few minutes, we chat, comparing notes on where we've travelled and places we want to visit.

Herr von Degenhard checks his pocket watch and grimaces.

"Frau Smith, I wish we could converse longer," he looks genuinely regretful, "but I'm expected at a meeting of my own. Will you be free later? I'd love to talk some more." His eyes dart to my cleavage. "Maybe you would be interested in discussing Gunther's new formula with me."

I grin at him. I do love a wizard who keeps abreast of the latest Arithmancy theory, I think dryly.

"Meet me here in three hours?" he suggests.

I hesitate before saying, "Sounds like a date."

With a broad grin, he nods and leaves with a swagger.

I feel a thrill run down my back and smile.


Ding dong.

As I wait, I regard the view of a lake through a cascade of out-of-season wisteria. In the distance, I can see other grand properties elbowing each other for their spot around the picturesque locale.

I hear the muffled sound of a house-elf Apparating through the glass doors and turn to face the entrance. Wizardkind finds it difficult to discern between female and male house-elves, but as a siren, I know instinctively that the house-elf is female.

It takes her a moment to realise what I am, but once she does, she quickly opens the door and invites me in.

The house-elf bows low. "My lady, what can Linty be doing for you?"

I smile warmly at her. House-elves are wondrous creatures; the power of their wandless magic is truly astounding when one thinks about it. "Hello, Linty. I need to speak with Herr Heinrich von Degenhard. Would you please let him know Frau Jean Smith is here?"

"Yes, my lady. Linty will tell Master Heinrich."

Linty pops away.

After a few minutes of waiting, I hear the faint tap of leather-soled shoes on the marble floor.

I steel myself as Herr von Degenhard appears from around a corner.

The instant we make eye contact, he scowls. Herr von Degenhard walks faster, his displeasure clear.

When he reaches me, his face looks as if he's licked a slug.

"Frau Smith, I'm stunned that you would show your face to me after standing me up. How is it you're here? Only my most trusted associates know of this residence."

"I know. I feel dreadful about missing our date." But not really. "My meeting changed locations and went longer than expected, and I couldn't send word. At the end of our meeting, my client noticed my distress and asked me what was wrong. I explained, and she informed me as to whom you were. I'm embarrassed to say I had no idea. Fortunately, she attended your last…soirée"—his eyes heat up with cruelty and lust—"and could relay where you lived, and so here I am. I didn't want you thinking…" My eyes prickle, and I swallow hard.

"Frau Smith, no worries, no worries. I understand how meetings sometimes go. Please," he offers his arm and smiles, a predatory glint in his eyes, "won't you come in."

I smile gratefully at him and accept his arm. "Thank you."

As we walk, he and I chat about light topics until we enter a private sitting room. When I hear him close the door, a pleased chuckle escapes my lips.

He takes a step towards me.

"Be still," I say

For a few seconds, he fights my Sway. He is an exceptionally powerful wizard, after all, but that's the extent of it. Eventually, he succumbs. The instant he does, I sense his magic flow towards me, and when my magic latches on to it, a loud, throaty moan erupts from him.

I place my hands on his hips, letting myself enjoy the sensation of his magic; however, what I'm experiencing isn't nearly as intense as what he's experiencing. Right now, he feels whole, like he's found his other half. His body feels more alive than it ever has as my magic sends signals to his hypothalamus to release a constant stream of dopamine.

I, on the other hand, feel as though I'm drinking a lovely cup of tea: warm, pleasant, and relaxing.

I place my left hand on Herr von Degenhard's face. "You've been a very naughty and slippery Dark wizard." I slide my hand downwards. "Thank you ever so very much for leading me straight to you." From his pocket, I pull out the Galleon I gave him earlier and smile.

"I do believe we will indeed be having a nice, long visit. Shall we get comfortable? Go sit on the settee and don't move until I say otherwise."

He does as I bid. After I remove my coat and set it and my bag down on an empty spot on the settee, I join him.

I notice a wet spot on Herr von Degenhard's lap. At first, I think he's wet himself, but at second glance, I realise he's climaxed. That's unusual. My magic hasn't ever triggered that reflex. All I can assume is that he must secretly enjoy being bossed around. I chuckle.

"Now, tell me about any nefarious activities you and your merry band of dunderheads have been up to this past month."

As he speaks, I do not react to the cruelties he's committed against humans and wizardkind. They are not the main reason why I'm here. I can tell he's purposely speaking at length, so I narrow my line of questioning.

"…High Realm…"

The moment I hear Herr von Degenhard say those two words, he seals his fate. I sigh.

"Who else knows?" I ask him.

"Only those here with me."

"How many?"

"About a handful."

"Tell me how many exactly?

He comes again and groans, "Six."

"Thank you." I lightly caress his cheek with my left hand.

Out of sight, I extend the talons of my right hand. Although Herr von Degenhard surely deserves it for all of the atrocities he's committed, I don't make it a point to cause him any fear. As quick as the Wild Hunt, I slash his throat.

Blood spurts onto me and across the room, spattering onto the furniture, floor, and nearby wall.

My soul sings; it sings with victory and satisfaction. I can't stop myself from moaning as I consume his magic; it's utterly sublime: rich and the most potent I've ever had.

After a few minutes, his heart finally beats its last, and his brain no longer sparks.

Panting, I shut my eyes.

Do I feel guilty about what I've done, about what I'm capable of doing? When I first learnt of the extent of my siren abilities and needs, I did. In fact, I was physically ill because of it. Now, however, I see things differently. I won't go as far as calling wizardkind 'weak-bloods' as some in the High Realm do; I refuse to dehumanise others so that I can create an emotional buffer, but neither will I ignore what I am.

I am a siren, a predator, and I have as much a right to live as any other creature. I must hunt, or I will die. It's harsh and cruel and not pretty, but it's my reality.

I gather myself and stand. As I retract my talons, I hear the door open.

My blessed luck. I make it a point not to use magic so that I don't trigger any detection charms, and still, the bottom drops out.

A wizard steps into the room. "My lord, I apologise for interrupting."

First, he notices the new bloody accents decorating the room, not blinking an eye at them, but then he sees the body of his lord.

His horrified gasp sounds as loud as a tolling bell in my mind. I swear Harry's proclivity for things going to shit transferred to me after the war. This year I might make good on my promise and give each of his children a drum set and a violin for Christmas. I know for certain it would be music to my ears whenever I visited. My lips curl into a grin.

With his wand, the wizard triggers the alarm and rushes inside, ending my amusing thought.

It seems I'm going to have to wing it—both figuratively and literally. Here it goes. "Stop," I command, releasing my wings.

His eyes dilate.

I grab my bag and coat. "You want to come to me."

With an expression of bliss, he follows my order without any resistance.

"Point your wand at your lord and don't move." I use my wings to leap clear across the room.

Not even a second after I'm pressed against the wall next to the door, four wizards and one witch rush in.

The wizard at the front of the group yells, "Brandt, what the fuck happened!"

I wait until they move further into the room and then shout, "Oi! Over here!" in good old English.

They turn as one stupid organism, all eyes on me: no challenge at all.

I want to sigh in exasperation but don't; instead, I say, "Kill each other until none are left standing."

As I stride off, flashes of green fill the room behind me, one right after the other.

My body glows ethereally from the surge of magic each death brings me. I know if I walked out into the human world right now, they would mistake me for a goddess or an angel—I glance down at my bloody appearance—well, maybe Enyo, a goddess of war, or Samael the Angel of Death.

I retrieve my wand from my bag. "Tergeo."

When I reach the vestibule, I stop. There's one last thing I must do.

"Linty!" I call.

Pop!

Linty wipes tears away from her face with her large ears. "Yes, my lady."

I kneel so that I'm eye level with her. "Linty, I'm sorry I had to kill your Source."

Linty begins to sob. "W-What is Linty to do?"

"How long has this been your household?"

"Thirty years, my lady."

Like many creatures of the High Realm, house-elves, also known as brownies, have evolved to have a symbiotic relationship with wizardkind. Without a Source, a magical link to Earth, their magic will ultimately overwhelm them, transforming them into boggarts. This little-known fact about the High Realm was one of many eye-opening things I learnt after my transmutation.

I gently take Linty's hand. "You don't have to fear about finding another Source. Laws have been passed in the wizarding world to protect you. All you need to do is go to the House-elves Placement Office in London. Speak with Faunus Sampo. He'll find you a new household."

"Ohhh, thank you, thank you, my lady." Linty wraps her spindly arms around me.

I hug her back and smile. "You're welcome." I stand and then take a step back. "Safe journeys, Linty."

"Safe journeys, my lady."

The air displacement of Linty's silent departure brushes against my skin, and I smile.

Assignment complete. My shoulders relax. Another possible threat to the High Realm has been eliminated. It's time to return home.

But no, I wouldn't be utilising my wings to do so. With a thought, I quickly conceal my feathery appendages. I may be able to reveal and retract them on command, but I'm still very terrified of flying, even more so now than before my near brush with death a decade ago. Now, if someone were to hand me a broom, I'd likely beat them with it.

I no longer Apparate, either. Apparition is quite limiting when it comes to long-distance trips anyway. Portkeys and the Floo Network are also not the most pleasant modes of magical transportation.

Instead, I am now able to Fade; I let myself transition from Earth to the High Realm and vice versa, if need be. It's as easy and natural as inhaling and exhaling a long breath and is an ability only allowed to those of the High Realm. It also allows me to travel nearly anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye.

Concentrating on my desired destination, darkness begins to bleed into my vision. A second later, I'm standing in a hallway inside the High Council Knoll, which houses the main governing bodies of the High Realm.

To those outside of the High Realm, I am merely an employee of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They think I suffer from a 'malady' I acquired after my broom accident, and that it's the reason why I've continued to drudge in the department rather than seek promotion.

In actuality, I am a secret agent for the High Realm and, when required, a skilled assassin. My highest priority is to protect this hidden society of brilliant creatures. It's quite the challenge because the High Realm isn't located in any one place. Regardless of whether a creature lives in the sky, ocean, or in the deepest of caves, they are in the High Realm, the world where all mythology is born.

If a wizard were to look at a tree inhabited by a creature such as a dryad, it would seem to him like he was looking at any other tree, but in truth, the tree wouldn't be of the Earth at all; it would be of the High Realm. Creatures bring the High Realm to Earth where ever they are; they bring pure, unfiltered Magic. Earth has no intrinsic magic of its own; either a person is born with it, or it comes from the High Realm.

Some creatures are able to exist solely by syphoning magic from the High Realm. Others, such as me, are not so fortunate. We must balance our magical link to the High Realm with magic filtered through the Earth. If we don't, the magic of the High Realm will overtake and devour us: thus, the necessity of wizardkind. Wizardkind are vessels of diluted magic, and with no link to additional magic, they are limited in their potential.

There are those in the High Realm who see wizardkind as nothing but foolish children, while others see them as nothing more than food—that was until Voldemort. He somehow learnt of the High Realm and, during the last war, almost breached it.

After Voldemort, the High Council could no longer dismiss wizardkind. Wizards or witches deemed high-risk are now monitored. Harry is my oldest friend, and I hate having to spy on him, but he is one of the most powerful wizards in the world. As one of the High Realm, it is my duty to protect it, even at the possible cost of a friendship.

I come to a stop at the door at the end of the hallway and knock.

"Come in," I hear from inside.

I turn the doorknob and enter.

There, looking like a dark prince from a fairy tale sits my boss, Severus Snape, a powerful Sidhe nobleman. He's a Dioano Sidhe to be exact, or what humans would call a warrior elf. In addition to his wand, he openly carries an elegant elven sword at his hip. His lithe body also hides a multitude of knives and daggers—or so I've been told.

He has the same colour and length of hair I remember from my Hogwarts days, but it's no longer oily and unappealing. It's the exact opposite, actually. It looks so inviting I have the urge to climb onto his desk and run my fingers through the thick, black strands.

"Miss Granger, how was your visit to Germany? Did you sample any of the country's offerings like I suggested?"

Everyone except for Severus addresses me by 'my lady' or, if I know them well, uses my first name. But considering what I call him, it's understandable why.

Taking a seat across from him, I smile lopsidedly and shrug. He's well aware I rarely sleep around and never on a job. Still, he encourages me to embrace my sensual side as a siren. "You know me, Professor."

He sighs. "Yes, regretfully I do."

I scowl good-naturedly.

Severus' lips twitch. "Miss Granger, all work and no play makes Jane a dull girl."

"And all play and no work makes Jane a mere toy." I raise my eyebrows. "Tell me, Professor, do you want me to be a mere plaything?"

Severus' eyes heat up as my Sway wraps around his mind. He opens his mouth, blinks, and then cracks a smile. "Nice try."

"I almost had you that time."

He smiles wider, showing his sharp, pearly whites. "Not even close."

I harrumph.

Severus gets down to business. "You're here to report?"

"Yes, sir." I proceed to summarise what happened with Herr von Degenhard.

"Excellent work, Miss Granger, as usual."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Don't thank me yet. Word has come from above that we have a lead on a Top Priority."

My heartbeat speeds up with excitement at the prospect of a new hunt. "Who?"

"Rabastan Lestrange."

"Rabastan Lestrange?" After escaping from Azkaban, Lestrange has been the wizarding world's Undesirable No. 1, but he's only ever been on the High Realm's watch list. "Why is he now a Top Priority?"

Severus steeples his fingers. "There has been a rash of creature killings around the world. It's believed he knows something about them or is, in fact, responsible. The only thing the victims have in common is that they are of mid-status in the Court. I need you to learn what he knows."

As my talons itch wanting to extend, I ask, "What of afterwards: dead or alive?"

Severus leans back in his chair and smiles. "Dead."