Big, smackin' thanks to: SilverPhoenix 007, Miss Mary Lou, Honeyblank, Mental Twitch 'sh33r's, Grey with Silver at the Depths for being wonderful reviewers.
It's been a long time... but I finally have gotten to a computer with internet with Chapter 6, long story... but nevertheless I hope you enjoy.
P.S. Sirens didn't have wings, hmm? There are quite a lot of versions, in some they had part bird bodies, but none of them looked the way Shaera does. However, here's something to think about: who was her father?
CHAPTER 6
There is no fool like an educated fool
"What do you mean, she's gone?" Kaz couldn't help the way his voice raised, putting a larger question mark on the end of the sentence than he had intended.
Even the normally cheerful, though adorably not-there Jovian looked astonished. "You mean… not there? Kaput? Vanished?"
June sighed, her fingers drumming into her temple like pincers. "Yes, gone! She's left the apartment, packed some clothes, and the car has disappeared. GONE!"
"How did you manage to lose her?" Kaz blurted out, before he could stop himself. He fought a shiver as June turned fierce eyes toward him, like twin lasers. If looks could kill… he would be in pieces too small for vulture food.
"We are all supposed to look after her," She hissed, stabbing a finger at their chests, "and that includes you, and you!"
"And Thistle," Jovian muttered. "We should have known something was up when she-"
"There is no point talking about it now." June started pacing her home, the confines of it suddenly like a prison. "I have the council beating on my door, that lower than life form, scum of the earth, that weed, that miserable excuse for a lamia - threatened me…"
Usually so calm, so cool, so pious… the quiet ones really were the most surprising when pushed over the edge.
"Let's forget about this Roth character for now…" Kaz said soothingly.
"RATH!"
"Okay, Roth, Rath, Wraith, whatever…"
"I'm really going to lose it soon!" June wailed.
"You mean she hasn't already?" Jovian meant it as a whisper, but the poor boy didn't have a clue how sharp June's ears were. She rewarded him with a blistering stare.
"Don't you realize this is my daughter," She said through gritted teeth, her voice cracking slightly. "Don't you realize that despite everything I love her? What if she never forgives me? What if she runs into danger? She's vulnerable right now!"
"June…" Exasperated, Kaz took a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell her earlier about her past? Why were you giving her memory suppressors for heaven's sake… if you had told her sooner…"
She drew herself up defensively. "When I hired you to look after her, I said I would explain in good time, you agreed not to speak about it. You should not have told her about those pills,"
"It's just wrong." Kaz argued back, not backing down one inch "We are much more than bodyguards to her now, we are her friends. We have a responsibility to look out for her."
June seemed to tremble, and the fierceness left the witch, rendering her small and vulnerable. "I wanted her to stay happy for as long as possible. Carefee."
Jovian snorted. "Did she ever look carefree to you? There was always something… dark… about her. Inside her."
Kaz looked at him, startled. That was an acute observation for someone who seemed to walk around in a dazed trance all day. He agreed reluctantly. "He's right, June."
"That's not what I mean." She hesitated. "She has nightmares… of what had happened… she can't sleep well unless I give her those pills. And that's not all that was in those pills…"
She trailed off and looked wretched. She threw herself on the couch and huddled together like even now she was unsure of the nuances of right and wrong, sorting through the shades of grey between stark black and white. "I… the pills… I did something… a spell"
"What's that?" Hands on hips, Kaz couldn't help feeling like a disapproving parent even though June was a few hundred years older than him… a whole new twist on the meaning of 'the older generation'.
June bit her lip, a sign of nervousness. "You know how she does things…? Callous things, unfeeling things one day… and the next day she is back to herself. She apologizes because she was guilty…"
Kaz thought of the times when Shaera had said something cold… when she walked out on him… and the next day, the apology, like the ice around her had thawed slightly. "What about it?"
"It's because… when I wiped her memory, I sought to give her what her ancestors never had…" June whispered. "I gave her something that is not natural to Sirens… "
Kaz felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. They waited, but she was silent.
"What?" Jovian said finally, impatient. "Insomnia?"
"No!" June laughed, a half strangled, half tearful laugh. "A conscience."
A conscience…
Her guilt, her reprieve, her apologies, her… was the result of a spell?
How much of the person he loved… or thought he knew… was real… and how much was because of that spell?
It was too much to handle…
He shut his eyes, wishing he could also shut his ears against June's voice.
"Can you imagine what she would be like if it wore off completely? What sort of person would she be when she fully remembers her past, when she has no conscience? No understanding of right and wrong? What of the nature that runs through her blood, the need for darkness and destruction? What then?"
How can a voice, a normal run-of-the-mill voice sound so sorrowful, as if each cadence were drenched in tears and pain?
"I've made a mistake… a terrible mistake…"
Jovian joined her beside the couch and held her while the slender witch sobbed into her apron.
"I gave a monster a conscience… I thought I could help her begin a new life… but I can't wipe out who she is… I thought I was giving her a blessing… but I gave her a curse. I've cursed her. My baby. I've cursed her." June wept, reaching out and grasping Kaz in a death grip.
"She's no monster," He said. But then he remembered the story, the art mural he had once seen of the great legend, the battle of witches and sirens on that lonely, violent island. The terrible winged creatures, distorted, pointed faces, of blood, and hatred and despair.
"Find her. Please. Just find her."
There is something deeply sad, yet darkly romantic about them…
No, she wasn't looking for personal opinions. Plus she couldn't see much romance in her own situation, it was excruciatingly bizarre. Real. Bizarre. Real.
We are in a sea of symbols, awash in elementary forms, and we are like fish, who are the last creatures to ask, 'What is the sea?" – Larson
Screw philosophy.
And Odysseus had his men tie him to the mast, and stop their ears with beeswax to prevent being seduced and distracted by the beautiful melodies of the mutant, supernatural creatures.
Mutant? Gnashing her teeth - (Mutant?), her fingers threw aside another book, forgetting that it was the property of the library.
It is of portent belief that Sirens were servants of Persephone, AKA "Death Queen", "Destroyer", "Goddess of the Underworld".
Now we're getting somewhere. Or are we?
Is this how those people – my people – originated? Creations of Persephone…
Was she a witch?
I wonder…
"Ahem"
Shaera turned to stare at the top of the head of the librarian. Must be a night worlder – this was a Night Society Library – but she had never seen a Night Worlder before who was so… plain.
A portly man, graying at the temples with a slightly rounded pauche stared back at her disapprovingly. He wore wired spectacles on the tip of his beak like nose and somehow managed to look down at her, despite being a good foot shorter than she.
Made vampires was only possible during their teens, otherwise the human body couldn't withstand the change. Born lamia aged to whatever they chose, and most chose to stop aging at the peak of their youth and beauty. And all Night Worlders were sleek and beautiful as sin, deadly as poison.
But this man…
I suppose there are always exceptions. There are a few supermodels who are human.
Though they didn't tend to last very long.
"Ahem" he coughed again.
"Yes, Sir?" She gave him a blank look.
"Please put the books back in a neat and orderly fashion once you have finished perusing," He said in a scratchy voice.
She had no idea anyone spoke like that in real life… it sounded unbelievably pompous coming from him. He must be offended at the open papers littered around her in his pristine cathedral of books.
Just a library for Goddess' sake.
"If you do choose to borrow a book or journal article, proceed to the counter with your pin." His gaze searched her dismissively, triumphant when he saw that she bore no black dahlia library pin. "We do not lend to those has forgotten their pin, it is against policy."
And with that he stomped – quietly – away.
What an unpleasant man! Where was the legendary Night World charm?
Most lamia oozed it from their pores as easily as they breath, it was necessary to attract their prey… humans. This guy probably fed from a blood bag stolen from the Red Cross, no sane girl would go within 2 meters of him.
Having never set foot in the library before – Kaz would probably faint if he knew – she didn't even own a stupid pin.
Making an impolite gesture at his retreating back, Shaera paused for a minute, glanced around and slipped upstairs. Probably the most interesting information would be in the sealed section… the Siren perspective from Night World historian writers, papers that were banned to the public… archives purely for Council Members.
Which… was probably why the door refused to open, and demanded in an electronic voice "Card Entry access only. Please Identify yourself."
She had wanted to slip in just to annoy the librarian. Ah well.
"Rath Redfern." A deep voice said behind her.
Uh oh.
Voice print acknowledged.
She froze. Oh no, she'd be caught prying, oh the humiliation to be thrown out of a public library…
"Forget your pass?" The voice said warmly.
She turned to see a dark, elegant profile, a raised brow and a sardonic smile. His eyes hadn't flickered in recognition at her, so maybe she can get away – "Uh…"
"That's okay, I do it a lot, too. Ladies first," He swiped his card, opened the door and ushered her inside.
"But…"
He was already ignoring her, heading straight down the aisle to flip through several folders. She watched the way the material of the suit molded itself to his frame as he walked – no, stalked across the carpet. It was the stealthy slither of a hunter.
Hmm… Not bad at all.
Since she was already here, she might as well make the most of it.
S… S for Sabbath. Sexual Pagan Crimes. Sickness spells – forbidden. Sirens.
A thin journal, worn and stained yellow with age. Slowly, carefully, she flipped it open.
Just as the House of Drax gave birth to the first of the Shapeshifters – who gained a portion of the shifting ability, in being able to shift in one form only – so the Sirens were a product of Witches, in particular, the renowned Persephone.
The Sirens seemed to gain no particular dangerous magick, save that of their spellbinding voices. They were created to serve Persephone who was then a celebrity of her times, a witch of the darker realm. She challenged the Crone of all Witches, the Harman line – also perceived as Royalty amongst Witches – and was therefore banished. Persephone was rumored to have strong ties to the Underworld, wed to a Demi God. (If one believes in the existence of Gods.)
Too many myths revolve around Sirens to translate into precise historical fact, they are causes of legendary tales that has even filtered its way into Human Society, initiating the deaths of Night Worlders and Humans alike.
Following the banishment of Persephone, the Sirens left on their own became untamable, a cause of great concern when they stared to spread and wreak havoc and vengeance on all mortal beings they came across. It has been said that it was the last curse of Persephone, advocates of death, bearers of darkness… their voices touched the weakest places in the soul of all mortals, and seduced them into taking their deaths in any form, the most common of which was falling or drowning.
Shaera shivered, her hands were trembling so bad she almost dropped the journal, guilt clamored at her, strong as bile. Her songs, Sweet Goddess – her songs… she didn't know…
It was voted by the Night World Council some 600 years ago to thoroughly eliminate the Siren race. A team of witches were sent to the Island, known widely as the "Island of Bones" due to the skulls washed ashore like sand. After a mighty war (Ref. Chapter 3 Le Grande Bataille) The witches vanquished the Sirens, placing them under the same deep sleep enchantment as the Dragons, a solution generally thought of as merciful. In particular, June Harman, Blaze Mayday, Thistle Blackburn and Letitia Vert were commended for their outstanding efforts.
Thistle? Thistle was in on this too? She was THERE? Shaera thought of her tiny, delicate agent and wanted to scream.
What other secrets…? How many more betrayals?
She forced herself to read the last lines of Chapter 1.
With the enchantments of the dragons and sirens, the years of war had finally ended, although despite the recent blood treaty between the Shifter house and witches, the truce between Night Society has been an uneasy one. If the spells were to fade, or Goddess forbid, the creatures were to reawaken… the era of peace as we know it would surely come to an end.
She had heard enough. Surely. There was no need to read anymore.
Everywhere the text leered at her, in history and present and future, she could never escape the brandings they had given her: Dark. Terrible. Death. Monsters.
This is what you are.
"No."
"I know who you are," He repeated.
"What?" She turned to see the man from the Council smiling at her. Rath something. What on earth did he want. Tired, she shoved the book back in its place and waved him away. "This is not a good time."
"To the contrary," He said softly, "This is the perfect time… Shaera." He rolled her name across his tongue as if he had been savoring it.
He was gazing at her strangely, as if she was a puppy and he her new master… or at a new toy he had been craving, finally placed toward him.
Edging away, she murmured, "No autographs today." This is the downside of being a singer, strangers on the street think they know you personally after seeing your MTV. Especially weird stalker types, they were the worst.
He laughed, low and husky. He was trying to charm her.
Although if the stalker in question was him it wouldn't be quite so bad… would it?
"No, I don't want an autograph from you… daughter of Parthenope."
What. Did. He. Say?
Rath tilted his head and smiled at her, the curve of his lips somehow impish though his eyes remained steady and cool.
"Lets have a talk, shall we?"
Oh no, not another talk.
"Shaera! Shaera!" Kaz yelled but no, he was too far away, there were too many people. He and Jovian ran but she was already getting into the car with someone else.
"Wait! Don't get in the car!"
He thought his lungs would burst as they both leapt over seats and weaved through people – where the blast had they all come from?
"Shaera, where are you going, dude?" Jovian cried. "Stop!"
But the door had slammed and the black Mercedes drove off. The wing bore a black dahlia tattoo. Council car.
Damn it!
Panting, helpless, Kaz stop and heaved, trying to get some air into his aching body.
"Why. Did. She…" Jovian panted "Not. Pay. Attention. To-stranger-danger-lessons."
"That wasn't stranger danger" Kaz puffed grimly. "That was a council car. What are the bets that its that Roth boy that June told us about."
"Rath," Jovian corrected with a superior expression.
"Whatever."
Within moments the car had disappeared in the throng. It was useless to try and follow. Some bodyguards, they were.
"Why didn't you shift and run after them?" Kaz complained.
Jovian looked astonished "What, in front of all these people? Are you insane? Have you forgotten our laws? Plus I would have lost time if I had."
"What, you can't shift instantly?" Disgusted, Kaz started walking back to the car, which was parked – uselessly – at the other end of the building.
Jovian followed, looking at him sideways under blond lashes. "And you don't wither in sunlight? God, what news! Call the tabloids." He stuck out his tongue.
Kaz advanced, with a menacing expression. Jovian reached under his shirt and pulled out a silver cross. "Stop or yield, walking dead!"
It was so ludicrous, so completely silly that Kaz burst out laughing.
Only Jovian could make him laugh at a time like this.
They had just lost Shaera, who took off with the last person in the world she should be in the car with, the dangerous, enigmatic, crummy-scum Rath.
He sighed.
The moment he had seen her, his heart had leapt painfully, even knowing everything, even knowing the worst that could happen, she made him feel alive.
Is it true then, sometimes you can't choose who you care for, and you can't help how much you care… or what you're willing to give?
And if it were the extraordinary Shaera… well… it didn't take a witch to predict that his feelings for her would cost him a whole lot more than any other woman… maybe more than he could afford…
Maybe more than his life.
And yet how many women could identify with those lost goddesses, bearers of a message to which man is afraid to listen…