Bluedawn (A Watermagic Novel, #2)

by Brighton Hill

  I handed Dylan his underwear and pants with a peculiar expression on my face.

  He chuckled as he took the clothing and wiggled back into them. “You’re always catching me with my clothes off—aren’t you?” He shook his head with a smirk on his face.

  “I guess I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” I winked and dove under the water hoping he would chase after me.

  He followed behind grabbing at my toes and when we stepped onto the shore, I laughed. “I sure as hell am glad you are alive.”

  He scoffed as he ran his fingers through his short dark hair. “Ditto,” he replied wryly.

  I couldn’t help but marvel at all the fine contours on his hot body. He was damn good looking. When I looked across the dim beach, I saw Gia sitting on the hood of the limo picking her fingernails with the tip of a dagger and staring at him. The windows were down with lights on inside the vehicle.

  Dylan scooped me up into his arms playfully.

  “What are you doing?” I laughed. “Put me down.” Really, I wanted him to hold me in his arms like that forever, but he didn’t need to know that.

  He threw me over his back and jogged over to the car where he set me down upon my feet on the asphalt.

  “Oh, aren’t you the tough guy?” I teased.

  “Better believe it,” he retorted back as he peaked his head in the window.

  “Hey, get in here,” Lyra laughed.

  “He’s alive,” Travis called out in an overly animated voice like he was delivering a line from a melodramatic horror film.

  “No thanks to you,” Dylan countered sarcastically. He looked over at me and held his hand out as he opened the door.

  Gia slid off the hood stepping between Dylan and me. “I’m going to check on Blake.” She took off all of her clothes right there, turned to Dylan, and winked. With that, she ran her tongue along the smooth side of the dagger, staring him in the eyes cooly. As she turned to leave, she pushed the sharp tip of the blade into my leg.

  I screamed. “Oh my God!” It was just a surface cut, but still.

  She laughed, “Oops,” she called over her shoulder as she ran down the beach and dove into the ocean.

  “What happened?” Dylan asked in a rush.

  I didn’t want to start anything. The stupid bitch would get her payback in time. “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I must have hurt myself in the ocean.”

  He looked down at the cut on my thigh. “That looks bad.” His fingers touched the skin around the injury.

  “I just must have caught my skin on something in the waves. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” I lied.

  “Naked time for you,” he lifted his chin in the direction of the water.

  I scoffed. “It’s okay. I want to remember the pain.”

  His expression looked troubled. “I can help you,” he said seriously.

  “I’m fine—really,” I insisted as I climbed into the limo.

  Dylan followed behind. We sat down on grey leather bucket seats. Wren, Lyra, and Travis were listening to Arrow Smith while drinking blended lattés and eating chocolate truffles. From what I’ve been told, sirens enjoy good food, but they need human flesh to survive. The great thing is that no matter how much sirens eat, they can’t get fat.

  Wren was leaning back, polishing a diamond necklace. “I made this for you,” she sang in her most beautiful voice as she handed the multi-stone choker to me.

  My eyes widened as I took it from her. “Why?” I shook my head lightly as I examined the way the diamonds twinkled in the light. It was a stunning work of art, the kind of piece you would imagine on a Greek goddess. Many years ago the triplets worked as jewelers, a trade they had learned from their father before Demeter cast her spell on them turning them into sirens. The style reflected the history and legendary appeal of that time.

  Wren smiled sweetly at me as she ran her fingers through her golden locks. “It’s a warm welcome to our flock.” Her blue eyes shimmered in the light.

  “Now that you have fed, you are officially one of us,” Lyra added.

  I looked down at the necklace not knowing what to say. As much as I didn’t want to be, I was suspicious. It wasn’t as if I had willingly joined. They stole my life from me. More than anything, I wanted to get away from them and be with my parents again. But even if I could run away, which I couldn’t, I could never leave Dylan behind.

  “And now the fun begins,” Wren giggled. “We have plans for you today!”

  I looked at Dylan, but his expression was unreadable. At that, I couldn’t help but wonder what in the world they had in mind for me. Mostly, I just hoped it didn’t have anything to do with murder.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws –JIM MORRISON, An American Prayer

  Wren pulled up into the driveway of the Prestige Inn—and prestigious it was. The beachfront luxury hotel was a tall white Victorian style structure with waterfalls, circular stairways, and high turrets set in a garden of tropical trees, flowers and shrubs.

  As we got out of the limo, Wren, Lyra, and Gia began to sing in melody as they walked past a waterfall. Diamond pendants and tiny silver bells hanging from their girdles made the most elusive sounds. Their voices seemed instrumental in quality, light and wispy like flutes, harps, and lyres sounding faintly through the wind. I couldn’t make out the lyrics, but the way the valet parkers stared like their heads were whirling, caused my heart to fall.

  With a coquettish look in her eyes, Wren tossed one valet the keys while the other swallowed hard as he unloaded our suitcases out of the trunk. The men seemed a mix of emotions. While they appeared embarrassed by their overwhelming feelings, their curiosity seemed to override.

  The taller man who held the keys kept asking Lyra questions, “How old are you? You can’t be more than sixteen. Your mother must be beautiful—is she married? Maybe you are older than you look. Can I take you out?” He reached out to touch the perfumed cluster of pearl ornaments in her silky black hair.

  Lyra touched his lips without a hint of shyness, not the typical manners of usual teenage girls who visited the hotel with their parents.

  Though he was quite masculine, even kind of rugged, he giggled almost like a girl he was so surprised. “I’m rich,” he said suddenly which I knew was a lie considering he was probably only in his mid-twenties, yet already exhibited rough workman hands and deep crevices around his eyes likely from years of squinting in the sun at outdoor labor jobs.

  “Meet me at the pool tonight,” Lyra sang. “And show me what you got.” She touched her lips to her finger and then pressed it against his cheek.

  I bit the side of my cheek so hard it started to bleed into my mouth. I tuned out on the rest of their conversation as my attention was pulled to Wren. To keep my bitterness in check, I stuffed my balled fists into the pockets of my jacket.

  “Let me see your ring,” Wren said in a whispery voice to the shortest valet parker who was lifting the suitcases out of the trunk.

  His eyes glazed as he sat down the luggage and twisted at his wedding ring until it came off his thick fingers. “So many memories,” he chuckled. For a moment, he stared at the diamond set in the gold band which I later learned had an engraving in the inside that said, Emanuel and Louisa forever.

  Wren ran her lovely hands down the front of her silky blouse that was unbuttoned just enough to show the upper edges of her corset. “Give it to me,” she commanded in a flirtatious tone that sounded more mischievous than threatening.

  The short man handed her his wedding band, placing it lightly on the palm of her hand. I noticed his lips trembling lightly.

  Her long fingernails closed around it as she dropped it into her purse. “Thank you my dear.”

  The man nodded, seemingly off balance, as he touched his chest just above his heart. He coughed. I could only imagine what he was feeling.

  I wanted to tear open Wren’s throat, but when I moved forward the slightest bit,
Dylan placed his hand above my chest and pushed me back lightly. It wasn’t smart to make a scene. I needed to learn more about the sirens before I did anything stupid. But even with that decision, anger was burning inside of me.

  Wren signaled us onward. Dylan, Blake, Travis, and I followed behind as the triplets strutted like supermodels on a catwalk into the stunning main lobby with lots of sparkly lights, high ceilings, and celestial art on the walls.

  “Take care of it, Travis.” Wren waved the boy to the front desk as she sat down on a sofa of gold and plush fabric. Gia and Lyra joined her while Dylan, Blake, and I sat down across from them on couches of similar types.

  The girls were laughing quietly about how stupid the valet parkers were. Blake and Dylan put their ear buds in their ears and were listening to their IPhones. I tried to read from my new e-reader Lyra gave me, but my attention kept drifting over to the sisters.

  “We have to find more intelligent boys tonight,” Gia said as she laid her head and upper torso back over her sisters’ laps. She was looking up at the ceiling now as she spoke in a bored tone. Her silky red hair fell to the sides of her body and to the floor. “I need a little stimulation.” She arched her back a bit at the last statement.

  “I agree,” Wren sighed. “L.A. must have some classier hot spots these days than Vegas.”

  Gia snapped her fingers and rolled over on her side. “Dylan!” She kept snapping. “Hello, hello.” Her hand waved in the air.

  “Huh?” he took the ear buds out and looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

  “Get me an entertainment newspaper over there.” She pointed across the room.

  “My pleasure,” He winked at her and pranced in rhythm over to the intricately carved wooden table that held brochures and stacks of magazines.

  I liked the way he moved. My eyes were fixated on him even though I knew I should turn away. Apparently somebody else liked the way he moved too because the young woman behind the desk who was talking to Travis stopped midsentence. Her jaw dropped. She was staring at Dylan as he perused the literature.

  That must have pissed off Travis because immediately he started singing in a raspy voice that sounded almost demonic yet melodic. He was such the rock star. The girl locked eyes with him now. She didn’t even ask for a credit card, but rather complemented the best suite to us, free on the house. As he took the keys from her, he scratched her hand.

  She pulled back. “Ouch.” Her eyes focused on the blood that trickled out of the minor cut. “Enjoy your stay,” she said looking confused.

  “Yeah, I will,” he snapped as he backed away, probably trying not to smell her blood and lose further control. Wren would punish him if he killed the girl without her consent.

  Travis walked over to Dylan from behind and punched him in the back of his neck. “Get your ass up and help me.”

  Dylan fell to the floor. He scurried up to his feet. “Dude, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Shut up, loser, and take these suitcases up to the 21st floor. But before he could gather the bags, servicemen in tuxedos placed them on carts and brought them up for us. We followed behind in an adjacent elevator.

  To no surprise, our suite was gorgeous. Huge windows and glass doors that overlooked the ocean opening up to a charming veranda with outdoor furniture. A gigantic movie screen in the living room that covered an entire wall. A high tech stereo with music choices galore. Comfortable Victorian sofas. Two bathrooms—one with a big footed tub and the other with an oversized Jacuzzi. And in the adjoining bedrooms, beds were made with satin sheets and comforters, so soft and comfy. Mints on the pillows. Fresh roses in the vases.

  “We have a big day ahead, kiddo,” Lyra said to me as she pulled off her corset and ran for the bathroom. “Better get ready,” she sang as she peaked from behind the door.

  “Get ready,” Wren called to me in agreement with Lyra as she kicked off her pants and opened the door to the bathroom, presumably joining her sister in the tub or shower. “You need a whole new look.”

  I rolled my eyes wondering what horror lay ahead of me. I hoped we weren’t going to shut down a beauty salon and eat everyone inside. And even if that didn’t happen, I hated shopping. But somehow I knew whatever Wren had planned would one way or another turn out totally different than I might expect.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Be as you wish to seem. –Socrates

  That dry, parched feeling was invading my mouth again. My stomach grumbled. The triplets, the slaves, and Dylan and I were sitting at a round outdoor table on the Santa Monica Promenade. Dylan ordered us the French restaurant’s finest red wine.

  I was so on edge that I stared out at the shoppers passing by. One guy with a juicy build who was perusing the vintage records in the music store across the way looked so delicious. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. As much as I didn’t want to, I found myself staring at him as the food server poured our merlots into the delicate wine glasses.

  The only thing that pulled me out of my spell was when Dylan stood up with his cup in hand and said with a wicked chortle, “To fun!”

  I looked at his perfect face, sensing mischief in his expression.

  “Drink,” he whispered, his emerald eyes narrowing.

  My heart was pounding way too fast in my chest. I looked back at the guy in the record store and then back at Dylan.

  He nodded. His nostrils flared. I wondered if he was aware of the intense hunger inside of me.

  Feeling out of sorts, not sure if I was going to rush across the cobblestone promenade and pounce right on the guy, I picked up my glass of wine. But as I brought it to my lips, I squeezed too hard and the glass shattered in my hand. Wine sprayed out all over Wren and Lyra who were on either sides of me.

  “Stupid.” Wren jumped up, scowling at her white blouse splattered with red liquid. She threw a fork at my face.

  Lyra was less angry, but maybe because she was wearing just a black halter and matching pencil skirt.

  Gia and Travis chuckled under their breath, but Dylan held a blank expression. I searched his eyes for help, but nothing came to me. “Sorry,” I finally said, as I began plucking the shards out of my bleeding hand.

  “We’ll be right back,” Dylan mumbled to the group as the now frazzled waiter called the bus boys over, his face tinged with alarm.

  Dylan stepped around the table and touched my arm. I could feel the heat of his hand on my bare skin. “Come with me, Hailey. I’ll fix you up.”

  To my surprise, I actually liked the pain I was feeling. Blood flowed from my hand wetting the cloth napkin wrapped around it. I got up.

  “I don’t know what was wrong with the glass; maybe there was a crack in it,” the waiter said nervously. “We’ll pay for your medical.” He looked at Wren. “Everything’s free. Eat all you want. On the house.”

  I walked briskly with Dylan through an alley out of the promenade that led to the sandy shore. “You okay?” Dylan asked.

  Now that we were away from the others, I sensed that he was worried about me. He was examining the wounds as we walked. “Take off your clothes,” he said in his magnetic voice.

  I looked up at him, surprised. The beach was empty, but still.

  “Don’t disobey me.” His tone was rough. “Take off your clothes.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw him subdue the slightest smile.

  My hand hurt, but I knew the wounds weren’t that serious. Mostly, I was glad for the distraction from my hunger. “Turn around then,” I said sassily.

  “No.” He just looked at me. I sensed in inner fury that he was suppressing. “Hurry up.”

  I focused on his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “N…nothing.” His musical voice stuttered, annoyed. I saw the slightest red coloration form on his cheeks. Suddenly, he reached behind me and pulled the sash on the back of my halter top. It untied. The top dangled from my neck still covering my breasts, but before I could step away, he pulled the upper sash and the garment fell off me.


  At once, I wrapped my arms around myself, covering my chest. “Why’d you do that?” I demanded as I stared him in the eyes angrily.

  “Take off your skirt or I’ll do it.” His tone was insolent.

  The blood had fully saturated the napkin by now. It was dripping on the sand.

  He pulled me to him, right up against his body. I could feel his heart beating fast against mine. At once, he unzipped my skirt, pulled it down and off of me with my underwear and pulled me into the ocean.

  I wanted to be angry, but all I felt was desperation, attraction. I struggled a little. He held fast, pulling me under the water out into the deep. We came up for air, gasping and breathing, my heart pounding with pain and this intense frustration that I couldn’t even explain.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he said pushing me away with fury in his wild eyes.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “You know,” he said. “How is your hand?”

  I lifted it up out of the water. It was entirely healed with just pink lines where the gashes were before.

  I wondered what I could have done to make him so fuming. It didn’t make sense. But then, I wondered if he could have been jealous that I was watching the guy in the record store. Was Dylan a jealous type? Or maybe I had done something else.

  “We have to get back.” He dove under the cool water and swam back for the shore.

  For a moment, I just waded there in the ocean trying to figure out what had just happened. But then, I dove under too and swam. Once, I was in shallow enough water, I stood up and walked for the shore. He was standing at the edge with his eyes closed holding up my garments.

  I grabbed them from him and dressed. “Okay,” I said, my voice laced with sarcasm. “You can open your eyes.”

  He didn’t say anything, but just walked with me back to the promenade. “You’ll be okay.” He examined me for a second making me feel more like his patient than his girlfriend, if I even could call myself that. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

  My eyes widened. “Where are you going?”