Siren Song

by Alex Hayes

  Idris rests an arm on the car roof, over the open door. “Let’s just say, I have my talents.”

  Jax sticks his head through the gap between the front seats. “Is she okay?”

  I grab Rowan’s hand, scan her body and begin the healing process. “She will be.” I glance at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping a young lady in distress.” He says that like it’s not a big deal. “You know, Connell…paying forward, like you said.”

  “You’re a good guy, Jax, but are you legal to drive?”

  Idris splutters. “He doesn’t have a license?”

  Jax waves his wallet in the air. “Just got it.”

  Rowan’s breathing deepens as I heal internal damage, purge the pooled blood and encourage her collapsed lung to reinflate.

  I pull back her hood, brushing spilled curls from around her pale face. “You’ll be okay.”

  Her eyes flutter and her mouth moves, shaping the words thank you before she passes out again.

  I lean close to brush my lips across her forehead and pick up something else.

  Lesions in her brain. Delicate as spiderweb, but numerous. So small I didn’t pick them up when I touched her hand. I refocus my energy to heal them.

  By the time I’m done, my eyes are drooping. Mending bone sucks the living light out of me, but my satisfaction over Rowan’s recovery counteracts my weariness. She’ll be okay.

  Meanwhile, I need to get out of here before Idris remembers the unfinished business between us. Given the situation, we worked together, and I don’t want that cooperation to devolve into anything unpleasant while Rowan’s recovering.

  Besides, I need to get a straight answer from Azera about what happened. She’s no stranger to violence, and neither am I, but I thought we both had enough control not to resort to anything physical out of anger.

  That she blames Rowan for my discontent is obvious, even though she’s wrong. The paparazzi thing never sat right with me, but Azera seems to have twisted her view of the profession into something resembling respectability.

  After boosting Rowan’s melatonin levels so she stays asleep, I crawl out of the car and stand unsteadily.

  Idris catches my arm. “Hey, are you good?”

  “Yeah. The healing thing wipes me out.” I look over my shoulder at Jax, whose feet are resting on the pavement, legs outstretched, from his position in the driver’s seat. “You think you can drive my car back to the apartment building?”

  Jax grins. “Whatever you need, man.”

  I hand him the keys and turn to Idris. “Take her home. A few hours rest and she’ll be fine.”

  He nods. “She went to your place to talk. I don’t know what happened.”

  “I wasn’t there.” But I wish to hell I had been. “I’ll see what I can find out and let you know.”

  “Oh.” He puffs out a breath. “And I need to thank you for saving my ass, as well as apologize for accusing you over that photo. I know you didn’t take it.”

  I lift a hand to stop him. “You were more right than you know. I’m past ready for a new profession.” I reach for the car door and pause. “Hey, a quick question.”

  His shoulders relax. “Ask away.”

  “Do you know what caused the lesions in Rowan’s brain? There was a cluster of tiny abrasions around her orbitofrontal cortex.”

  A dark eyebrow lifts. “Where is that? And how do you know the lingo, anyway?”

  I shrug. “I studied human anatomy. Made sense to know what all the parts are and what they do. Makes healing them easier. The orbitofrontal cortex is the area of the brain behind the eye sockets.”

  Idris pulls at his chin with slender fingers. “Then I’d guess it happened when the last Evatenon we ran into tried to assimilate her. As in, suck her life force out through her eye sockets. Not a pleasant way to go. She got free of him just in time.

  “The whole experience did a number on her, but I didn’t realize she’d suffered brain damage.” He scratches his forehead. “Though thinking about it, she’s been plagued with headaches. Never complained, but she has this habit of pinching her temples.”

  “These Evatenon… They’re the ones who want us dead?”

  Idris’s jaw clenches. “Yeah. And they’re looking for us. If you ever see someone with a violet light in his eyes, run for the hills.”

  I stiffen. “Violet light?” I have seen… “Describe it.”

  He lifts his shoulders. “Exactly what I said. They look human, but there’s this neon, black-light glow in their eyes. Normal humans can’t see the effect. Don’t even know if the Evatenon realize we can see it, but it’s downright spooky. Especially at night.”

  “I’ve seen a glow like that.” Ryker. He looked over those ubiquitous sunglasses of his and I saw a glow just like Idris described.

  He stiffens. “Where’d you see it?”

  “A paparazzo who’s been courting my sister, trying to talk her into joining his team.”

  “But he didn’t approach you?”

  “No, he wanted to recruit Azera, not me.”

  “Wonder why.” Idris shakes his head. “You should get in touch with her. Tell her to stay away from the guy. And if he comes near you, run away and call me.” He gives me his number. “You don’t wanna deal with an Evatenon alone. They can shift between their hosts’ and their natural forms. Normally they look like four-armed muscle-bound Hulks. And if you think the Hulk has an attitude problem… Well, these guys make him seem cuddly.”

  “I’ll check on my sister.” I give Idris a wave as I slide into the passenger seat.

  While Jax drives toward home, I call Azera. She doesn’t pick up.

  I know she’s pissed at me for walking out, but damn it, I need to warn her about Ryker. I call a couple more times, then text. You’re in danger. Stay away from Ryker. I’ll be home in a few.

  Jax parks in the alley around back and heads off to catch a bus home. I shuffle inside, wishing for a long communion with my bed, but I get this worrisome feeling it’ll be a while before I get any rest.

  The apartment’s empty. I wander in slow motion down the hall to my room and check the schedule. There’s a gig later tonight that I was going to take. Azera should be here.

  Unless she’s avoiding me.

  I wish I’d smoothed things over before I took off, but there wasn’t time.

  Where would she go?

  Wait, if she’s got her phone, I can track her. I check the locator app on mine. She’s about ten miles away. Google Maps shows her in a residential area, but not one of the nicer neighborhoods. This one’s rundown. There’s no reason for her to be out there, unless she didn’t go by choice.

  I stand too quickly and my head spins. How do I treat myself for exhaustion?

  The short answer is food. There’s the takeout from Hyun’s I abandoned in the back of my car. I grab a liter bottle of OJ from the fridge on my way out the door and thumb type a message to Idris.

  At the top of the stairs, I pause to hit send and my phone rings.

  Azera’s name flashes across the screen. I pick up. “Az, where are you?”

  “Connie?” Her voice sounds weird, throaty and hollow, like she’s scared.

  “I’m here, Az. What’s going on? Where are you?”

  “It’s Ryker. He…he hit me,” she whispers.

  “I’m coming, Az. Stay with me, okay? I’m on my way.” And I’m going to take that asshole down, whether he’s a four-armed alien or not.

  “No. Connie, you can’t. It’s you they wan—” The line goes dead.

  33

  Rowan

  The leather seat under my ear bounces. I wake with a start, my head clear and completely pain-free.

  Wow. I haven’t felt this sharp in months.

  I sit up and look down at my human hands. Guess I transformed and didn’t just think it. No pain with my movements. I breathe in deep.

  I’m okay. Better than okay. I feel wonderful.

  Con. I remember him looking
down at me, the warmth of his touch. Emotion locks in my throat.

  I grip the seatback in front of me and peer over Idris’s shoulder. “Con healed me, didn’t he?”

  He glances into the rearview mirror. “Yeah, he tracked you down. Must’ve sensed you were hurt. How’d you get so messed up?”

  My face tightens with the memory. “I had a PTSD flashback—the whole scene with the Evatenon trying to assimilate me—and I panicked.”

  He nods, eyes catching mine in the mirror, then focusing back on the road. “Conithar said there were lesions in your brain. In your… Damn, what was it called? Orbi…orbitofrontal cortex, that was it. He healed the damage.”

  “That must be why my headache’s gone.” The whole world seems brighter without that fog of pain.

  “You’ve had a headache this whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I rub my neck, catching an echo of my months old pain. “I figured given time, it would go away.”

  Idris switches lanes and makes a turn. “Meanwhile, you were walking around with brain damage.”

  “A wonderful thought,” I murmur. “Look, I still need to talk to Con. He wasn’t around when I got to his apartment.”

  “Yeah, he had to take off. He said he’d seen an Evatenon, the violet eyes. Some paparazzo who’s been showing an interest in his—”

  The burner phone lying on the front seat dings.

  Idris passes me the device. “What does it say?”

  I unlock the phone. “It’s Con. He says an Evatenon has Azera. He’s going after her.”

  Tension coils in my chest. Con facing an Evatenon alone is a terrible idea, though the prospect of standing beside him to face one doesn’t fill me with enthusiasm either.

  But for Con, I’d face a whole army of four-eyed, four-armed blue monsters.

  Idris bangs his palm against the steering wheel. “He’s gonna need our help. Find out where he’s going, and tell him we’ll meet him there.”

  I type, Where are you going? Will meet you there.

  The phone chimes again. Take Rowan home first. She needs to recover.

  I huff. Will be there asap. Address?

  The second the address arrives, I read it to Idris.

  He plugs the street name into his GPS while we’re stuck at a light. He scans the screen. “It’ll take thirty minutes to get there. Hopefully he isn’t too far ahead.”

  34

  Connell

  I want to transform, turn invisible and fly, but I’m wiped out already, and I’ve no idea what I’ll have to contend with once I find Azera.

  Idris warned me not to take on an Evatenon alone, but he doesn’t know how good I am at street fighting. Those Evatenon assholes might be big, but I’m no small fry, and I’m fast too.

  As long as I can find the energy.

  I chug OJ on the way to my car. Dropping the capped bottle on the passenger seat, I turn out of the parking space and head across town, weaving in and out of traffic, sliding through yellow lights, hoping the cops won’t spot my reckless driving.

  Even so, the journey takes twenty minutes. My car rolls down a deserted street, the kind sensible people don’t travel at night, and brings me to a shadowy, boarded up tenement building where my phone app tells me Azera is.

  The area’s dark with only a few streetlamps working. The rest have probably been broken by hoodlums. The building in question is a narrow cement-block structure, six-stories high with gated alleyways separating the property from the apartment buildings either side.

  I drive past, circle the block and park on a backstreet, hoping to find a way in at the rear. What I find, once I’ve navigated the cracked tarmac and weeds of an overgrown back alley, is a pair of double doors, their handles wrapped with chain and secured by a padlock. No way past those steel links without a key or a crowbar.

  Circling the block on foot to the building’s front, I find a door with boarded up sidelights and a structural hazard sign.

  The place is still standing. That’s good enough for me. I try the handle and the door opens. Only one viable passage of entry and exit, and it’s unlocked.

  Yeah, the whole thing stinks like a Venus flytrap.

  Idris said these Evatenon creatures with their glowing eyes were dangerous, and here I am drained from a healing session with no backup.

  I’d be crazy to stride into this place on my own.

  My fingers tingle, making me clench them. Waiting for Idris makes a whole lot of sense, but how can I stand around when Azera is in danger?

  She sounded terrified on the phone. The only person who ever frightened her like that is her father. Meaning whatever Ryker turned into it has got to be freaking scary.

  No sign of Idris’s crystal, but I do pick up Rowan’s.

  Damn it, I told Idris to take her home. I can’t risk her getting dragged into the same mess as Azera.

  That worry is motivation enough to make me step through the doorway.

  The first thing I detect is smoke. In the dark, it’s impossible to tell where that smell is coming from. My phone light reveals traces of white mist hovering below the ceiling.

  The square entry hall is scattered with torn-out wood planks, plaster chunks and trash, and a bank of beat-up mailboxes lines one wall.

  Messed up footprints and drag marks mottle the dust covering the cracked floor tiles, suggesting a scuffle. Azera must’ve been brought in here against her will. Tempting though it is to shout her name, I keep my trap shut.

  The interior is pitch dark, impossible to traverse without a light. Once again, I’m tempted to shape shift into my bird form. I’d have better visuals, but in the confines of hallways, I wouldn’t be able to fly. My avian body may be versatile in the sky, but on the ground, it’s weaker and more awkward than my human one.

  Then again, searching this place will take forever, and with this smoke comes fire. I don’t have the luxury of time.

  Azera, where the hell are you?

  I’m close to shifting, despite the drawbacks. But even then, could I locate her through a half dozen floors of reinforced concrete?

  A loud crash sends my internal debate flying in a hundred directions. The noise comes from a doorway on the left side of the building.

  I glance up the concrete stairs off the entry hall. Illuminated by my phone, wafts of white smoke coil like the trails off Absolem’s hookah. I move left and stare at the floor, feeling like I’m entering a rabbit hole, or more accurately a warren.

  Multiple sets of footprints weave and overlay down the passage. I navigate the detritus lining the hallway, threading a new trail of prints all my own.

  Boot impressions disappear under the third door. Azera was wearing boots today. One set could be hers, but the others? At least two others. Which means Ryker isn’t working alone. Ryker or whatever he’s become. A violet-eyed brain-sucker.

  The scraped and dented door is closed.

  How do those cops in the movies open doors? With a dramatic flourish, then dodge behind a wall to avoid the requisite volley of gunfire? Or slow and silent, so they can slip like shadows between the gap?

  Helps if you have a script and already know how it all goes down.

  Hand held high with my phone light gleaming, I turn the knob. The latch clicks. So much for silence.

  I give the door a quick push. It swings with a soft creak until it meets resistance. I swallow.

  Lighting the space inside without entering, I assess the direction of footprints. They’re a mess, but most curve to the right.

  “You can come in, Connell. I promise I won’t shoot.” A rumbling laugh follows.

  That asshole, Ryker. Would he shoot me?

  Not that it would be the first time I’d faced the wrong end of a weapon. Life on the streets is one endless game of Russian roulette, which is how I got so good at defending myself.

  Idris said an Evatenon tried to assimilate Rowan. He didn’t say why it wanted her so much when humans are clearly more abundant on this planet.

 
What makes us so special?

  Maybe they think assimilating an invisible flying bird creature is an advantage, though I’m not sure how great an advantage that is.

  I hold my position. “What do you want, Ryker?”

  “Exactly what Azera said when she called. You.” His tone makes me want to slam my fist into the nose he’s almost certainly looking down right now.

  “Wow. Don’t I feel the love. And all this time, you’ve been telling me I’m not worth shit.”

  He laughs. “Oh, you’re worth plenty, shape-shifter. Azera, on the other hand, is only valuable because she means something to you.”

  My fists clench. “What have you done to her?”

  “Not too much damage. You’ll find she’s still recognizable, more or less,” he goads. “Nothing your healing abilities couldn’t fix, I’m sure.”

  He knows about my abilities. Which means they must’ve been watching me for a while.

  “Where is she?”

  “Oh, somewhere around. To save her, you’ll have to surrender yourself. Not such a bad exchange. What do you think?”

  Fury fizzles my humor-the-enemy circuits. “I think you’re the biggest dick in LA, and it’ll give me great pleasure kicking your ass right out of this town.”

  Ryker releases a villainous laugh that makes me want to gut him.

  “That’s a start,” he says, still chuckling. “Come in here, Connell. Show me the man who’s going to put me in my place.”

  Keeping my phone directed at his voice, I slide through the gap in the door and sweep the room with my eyes while holding my light pointing into Ryker’s face.

  He stands behind the scarred kitchen counter of a narrow island, taking a Mr. Tough-Guy pose, arms crossed high on his chest.

  No weapons. At least, none I can see.

  “So what’s with the purple eyes, Ryker? Been sniffing too much paint thinner lately?”

  A satisfied smirk pulls at one side of his mouth. “Your sight is proof of what you are.” He lifts a palm-sized device from his pocket. “And this confirms it, a handy contraption for detecting the crystal buried in your chest.” He studies it and smiles. “And like flies to feces, your Livran friends are coming to your aid. How very predictable.”