Macabre Melody: Reverse Harem Siren Romance (Spellsinger Book 7)

by Amy Sumida

  You know what you need to do; get it done. I ain't your fucking mama; I'm not going to remind you. RS finally spoke but then was gone again.

  Maybe she was mad at me too.

  I'm with you, my love, Kyanite said reassuringly. You can always rely on me.

  Thanks, Ky.

  Heads up; the Witches are restless.

  I frowned at that and tried to shake myself alert. I was striding through the halls of the witch mansion on Coven Cay; an island owned by the Witches. The hallway floor was parquet wood; polished to a mirror shine. Our heels clicked on it hollowly but most of the echo was absorbed by heavy, tapestry curtains. The curtains were pulled back from a line of windows on our left that let in the afternoon sunlight; illuminating the wood inlay of mystical symbols in the floor. The whole place was filled with magic; surely there was enough power here to locate the rising Gods?

  Two burly, male witches stood guard outside the council room; one earth and one air. They opened the double doors for us and nodded grimly to me as we passed through. As soon as the doors had opened, a wave of arguing voices rolled over us. I grimaced as I searched for my father.

  Robert Scorcher was near the far end of the rectangular configuration of tables. He sat at one of the long sides of the rectangle while the Witch Leaders sat at the shorter end. I nodded to Vivian and Odin; they were the two leaders I knew best. Glinda was nice enough to me, but I wasn't as close to her as I was with the other two.

  My father had saved us seats. There was one extra chair after we all sat.

  “Where's the gargoyle?” Dad leaned over to me to ask.

  “Busy,” I whispered.

  He gave me a frown but didn't say any more.

  “Quiet!” A masculine voice lashed over the assemblage.

  Everyone shut up and stared at the fourth witch leader. There was a leader for each elemental house. Odin was the leader of Earth, Vivian was Water, Glinda Air, and this man, Osamu Hinote, was the leader of Fire. I barely knew Osamu which was odd since he was the head of my father's house. But Osamu was even more of a scholar than Odin was. He traveled all over the world—following rumors of rare objects, manuscripts, and spells—and was rarely found at Coven Cay.

  Osamu narrowed his dark eyes at the gathering of witches as his thin lips tightened. He had what I liked to call the Asian Glare of Doom, and he was using it to its full potential.

  “We will get nowhere if we persist in this fashion,” Osamu declared. “We are witches; we have knowledge passed down through millennia available to us. Has the library yielded no results?”

  A few voices started talking at once, and Osamu sliced his hand through the air. They stopped.

  “Wanda.” Osamu pointed to a woman. “Report.”

  “Nothing in the East Library, Sir. Not yet,” she stammered. “There are still some old volumes...” her voice trailed away under the doom glare. “I will persist.” She lurched to her feet and ran out of the room.

  The glare transferred to another, and another, and another. Every library was being searched for myths on old gods but none of them had helped. Yet. There were big libraries at Coven Cay and the Coven couldn't put all of their witches on the search.

  “Alexis!” Osamu pointed at a blonde woman with a buff body. “Anything?”

  “Still following leads, Sir!” Alexis reported like a soldier.

  Osamu nodded.

  It went that way for the next half an hour. No one had made any progress but they weren't giving up either. After the reports were in, witches started speaking up again; calling out ideas on what to do about the potential threat.

  “That's quite enough,” Vivian said as she stood. “Present your ideas individually to your elemental leaders. I vote that we conclude this meeting until we have more information. Any information. Because this”—she waved her hand at the congregation—“is just a ridiculous waste of time.”

  The other leaders looked at Vivian and nodded. It was pointless to sit there and work with ifs and buts. The room cleared out, but the leaders lingered. They made their way over to my group.

  “Robert, thank you for bringing your daughter,” Osamu said to my father before turning to me. “And thank you for attending, Elaria... and consorts.”

  My men grimaced. Two kings, a griffin, a prince, and a god all reduced to “and consorts.”

  “No offense,” Osamu said quickly. “It's just easier than greeting each of you individually.”

  “None taken,” Darc answered for them. “Now, what are your four planning?”

  Osamu chuckled. “What makes you think that we have a plan?”

  “If not a plan, then an idea,” Torin said. “The four of you are too brilliant to not have one.”

  “There are possibilities.” Glinda's gaze shifted my way.

  “No,” Odin said. “Not that one.”

  “What's going on?” My father narrowed his eyes at the Leaders.

  “She's referring to last resort measures which we aren't going to bother you with unless necessary. Isn't that right?” Odin glared down the other witches; even Osamu looked away.

  “What about alerting the other realms?” I asked. “Did you discuss that?”

  “In our first meeting.” Vivian nodded. “Messengers have already been dispatched to the governing counsels of every inhabited planet.”

  “Well, at least there's that,” I said. “They can watch for the signs.”

  “Such as earthquakes?” Odin asked with a grin.

  His name was Odin Earthshaker; earthquakes were kind of his specialty.

  “Yes; such as earthquakes.” I shook my head at him.

  “Darcraxis was released without any quakes.” Vivian nodded her head at Darc. “We can't assume that we'll have warning signs, much less speculate on what they'll be.”

  “All we can do is hope,” Glinda said softly.

  The rest of us nodded at that. It didn't appear that there was much else to be done.

  “I'll walk you out,” my father said to me.

  I made my goodbyes to the Witch Leaders and then followed my dad out of the room. We could use our stones to travel from anywhere, but I had a feeling that he wanted to say goodbye to me privately.

  “Could we have a moment?” My father looked pointedly at my men.

  The guys looked at me, and I nodded.

  “I'll see you at home,” I said to them.

  “Always good to see you, Robert.” Torin shook my father's hand.

  The rest of the men nodded their goodbyes and traveled back to Tír na nÓg without me.

  “What's up with the gargoyle?” Dad got right to it.

  “I don't know.” I sighed. “He's being distant.”

  “Distant?” Dad growled. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing much. I tried to tell him that I wouldn't be able to return right away, and he cut me off saying that he had responsibilities too and had to see to them. Every time, I call, it's the same. Slate cuts the call short as soon as I mention anything about my delay in visiting him. Then I call him today, and he says he's busy.”

  My father laughed.

  I grimaced.

  He laughed harder.

  “How can you have so many men and still know nothing about them?” My father laughed even more.

  “You want to share the joke?”

  “Slate Devon's a leader of his people, Ellie-phant,” my father finally calmed enough to say. “He's the top dog. And here you come, shaking up his world—literally—and he's put in a position where the thing he wants most—that would be you—he can only have if he learns to share. Not so easy for a guy like that.”

  “Yeah; I get that,” I huffed. “But I'm over here trying to assuage other prickled prides. I owe my current lovers more than Slate.”

  “And I'm sure he knows that too,” my dad said soberly. “It's yet another sting.”

  I chewed on that.

  “Then you call him instead of going to see him,” Dad went on. “After Banning pulled you away w
ithout a proper goodbye, I might add.”

  “Yeah; I figured that would be annoying,” I muttered. “Banning didn't want me making a scene with Slate. He said it wouldn't have gone over well.”

  My father went back to laughing.

  “Dad! You're not helping.”

  “I'm sorry, sweetheart.” He did look apologetic. “It's just that having one arrogant, alpha male in your life would be hard enough, but you've got five. No; six now.”

  I sighed deeply.

  “You called Slate today and instead of asking to see him one on one, you invite him to a meeting with all of your other men,” my father pointed out. “How would you feel?”

  “Shitty,” I whispered. “Overlooked. Not important. Fuck; I'm an asshole! I hate it when I'm the asshole!”

  “Not the language I like to hear coming out of your precious mouth, but yes.”

  “It's been over a month,” I whispered. “He's gotta be pissed.”

  “Get over there,” my father went serious. “Go home and tell your men that you can't wait any longer. If you fuck this up, all of them will be looking for a new man for you. That would be far worse than dealing with Slate.”

  “Better the gargoyle they know.” I grinned.

  “Exactly.”

  “I love you, Dad.” I hugged him. “Thank you.”

  “One problem at a time,” he whispered. “The Gargoyle and the Rooster and then the Gods.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  I laid it all out for my men. They growled. They argued. They tried to seduce me. And, finally, they agreed to let me go to the Zone. I had two days.

  I didn't even pack. I kissed them goodbye, thanked them for being reasonable, and used my stone to travel straight to Slate's office.

  He wasn't there. A bit anticlimactic, actually. I huffed my way downstairs and noted the dimmed lights in the zone ceiling; it was later there than it was in Kyanite. As I was crossing the yard, I ran into Jago.

  “Diva!” Jago swept me up into a hug. “Where the hell have you been? The boss has been moping about something fierce.”

  “I've been busy taking care of things.” I shrugged. “I figured he was too. I called him. We talked.”

  I thought about those strained conversations again. Our relationship had been a rough one, and then I'd gone and left as soon as it started in earnest. There was so much lurking beneath our words when we spoke through the charm; so much that needed to be expressed in person. We had things we had to look into each other's eyes to say. I should have gone to see Slate sooner.

  “Sure.” Jago nodded but the look he gave me was critical.

  “Where is he?”

  “The Quarry. Drinking, most likely. He does that a lot these days.”

  Shit.

  “I need your help, Jago,” I said urgently. “I need to make a grand gesture. Something public to appease the wounded pride of the Zone Lord.”

  Jago started to smile. “What you got in mind?”

  Ten minutes later, I was sneaking into the Quarry with a baseball cap on my head and Jago's thick arm draped over my shoulder. He joked with friends as he led me through the crowd and then to the backstage door. No one looked at me twice.

  “Thanks, Jago; I've got it from here.” I kissed his cheek.

  “He's in the lounge upstairs.” Jago smirked. “I'm going to go up there and make sure he looks out the window. Knock 'em dead, Diva.”

  I hurried down the hallway and then knocked on Eli's door. He stuck his head out and his eyes widened in surprise.

  “Elaria!” He came out to hug me. “Are you all right? I heard about all that went down. The God, the Zone Lord, your consorts... your dad.”

  I laughed. “I'm good. How have you been?”

  “Good. Good. Except for, you know, the boss being bitchy.” He grimaced at me. “You here to change that?”

  “That's the plan,” I said. “Can you put on the music for 'Don't Let Me Go' by Raign?”

  “Oh, nice choice.” Eli winked at me. “You got it, babe. Give me a minute to finish this song and then you're on.”

  Eli moved back into the control room, and I moved up the stage stairs. I hadn't dressed for a performance, but I had dressed to impress Slate. My full skirt and slinky top should do just fine. Besides, I was hoping the song would speak to him more than my appearance did. I peeked around the curtains and saw Slate exactly where Jago said he'd be; up in the lounge, drinking.

  Except Slate wasn't drinking alone. Eleanor stood over his hunched body; her hands massaging his shoulders as she glared at Jago. Jago was saying something to Slate—his hands moving expressively—but the Zone Lord wasn't listening to either of them. Slate stared into his glass with a haunted expression that tore at my heart. How long had my Beast been wasting away for his Beauty? Damn it all! I really was the asshole!

  Eleanor's hands became more insistent. She stopped massaging Slate and ran her fingers down the front of his chest instead. Those devious red nails dug beneath Slate's dress shirt as she leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek. I don't know what she was doing to him beneath the fabric, but he didn't even twitch. I would have laughed except that Eleanor was far from done. She started kissing Slate's face; her hands sliding out of his shirt only to go questing into his lap, despite Jago's presence. Jago moved forward as if he were about to dislodge Eleanor, but Slate beat him to the punch. As soon as Eleanor's hands ventured too low, Slate shook her off with a rolling movement of his shoulders and a furious roar that I could hear even with the pounding music and the thick pane of glass.

  No one even glanced at the box. The lack of reaction from the crowd, combined with Eleanor's calm demeanor as Slate raged at her, led me to believe this was a common occurrence. Slate pointed imperiously at the door. I couldn't read lips but it was clear what he'd been saying when both Jago and Eleanor stomped out. Slate collapsed back onto his chair—fury replaced instantly by despondency—and refilled his glass with the bottle of whiskey beside him.

  The blaring dance music faded out and my song began. I edged onto the stage; staying in the shadows as the crowd shuffled about in confusion. The abrupt shift from slamming beats to soft strumming left them moving in an unsure sway. And it brought Slate's attention straight to the stage.

  I stepped out with my first words; so perfect for us. It was all there. The distance I felt between us; how I had drifted away. Been pulled away. I called out to him to help me; to save us. It wasn't your average love song, but none of my lovers were average, and Slate was no exception. I wanted to show him that. To tear out my heart on his stage and hold it up for him to see. For all of those beneathers to see how much he meant to me. Let them know that his spellsinger still craved him. That my love for Slate was just beginning.

  As soon as he saw me, Slate jolted up in his seat; his gaze flashing silver and locking on mine. I smiled but it was gentle; part apology and part romance. Magic seeped into my song but not with the intention to sway him, only to carry my message up to him. Sometimes loving me will be hard, sometimes you will be without me, but I'll always be here with you if you let me into your heart. There will be tears. There will be pain. But there will also be love that freezes time without growing cold. Eternity will not be enough for us. I promise you. Just let me inside you. Carry me with you, as close as your own tears. Dare to love me.

  The room had gone silent; every eye darting back and forth between Slate and me. But I didn't look at my audience. I kept my gaze on Slate. This wasn't about their entertainment, this was about the Zone Lord. My voice rang out with the power of my conviction and the love I wouldn't deny ever again. Slate's lips parted, his expression shivering with emotion. He stood slowly, and I knew that he was about to come down to me. But I shook my head. No, baby, let me come to you. I wanted more than an apology for him, I wanted to give him his pride back. I wanted to see that swagger again. I wanted Slate to own his world as he had always done. I wasn't a woman who needed my lovers to crawl for me. I'd rather help them fly. And even though
Slate was a man who moved stone, he also had wings. We could rule the sky together.

  Slate smiled slowly; that precious smirk that I'd grown to adore—and sat down. He leaned back in his chair like a king. His hand reached for his glass, and he sipped it casually as I swayed forward. That's right, Slate; let me dance for you. Let me be the perfect fantasy.