by Krista Walsh
If it’s true, he reminded himself again. He dug through her story to try to pinpoint any red flags, but her pain and anger swept away his desire to look too closely.
“At some point along the way, my self-pity gave out,” Ligeia said. “For a while, I remember being numb. I allowed the water to carry me as it wished, giving myself up to the current. I don’t know how long it took before the anger set in, but I think it was around the time that sea creatures began feeding on my injuries, drawn to my stillness now that I’d stopped fighting them off. I was covered in leeches, and other fish came to eat those. I was debased from a species of beauty and seduction to nothing more than a meal for the basest bottom dwellers.” She shuddered. “Then I noticed something else lurking in the darkness with me, something I sensed, but could never see. Every day, I prayed it would devour me, but it never approached — just hovered close by with its looming menace.”
Her description of this dark threat drew Gabe’s interest and he halted his pacing to stare at her. He thought about the dreams Allegra claimed to be having, the approaching darkness that never took shape but kept coming closer. Was this menace the same as what she saw?
“By that time the chains had begun to rust,” Ligeia continued. “John had been clever and imbued the shackles with magic, but he underestimated my strength.” Her cheeks flushed and she drew her shoulders back. “I became filled with thoughts of revenge, and with each day that passed, anger filled my limbs with a strength I never knew I possessed. It fueled me as well as any meal. My people had turned on me and left me to die, then they had gone on with their lives as if they hadn’t doomed me to my fate. I couldn’t let that injustice stand. It took time, but by then I had learned to be patient. I spent my days imagining what I would do to John and the entire town when I rose from the depths.”
Her eyes flashed with blue fire and her fingers curled into talons. Gabe stilled beside her, leery of drawing that anger toward himself. His arms broke out in goosebumps, and some of his sympathy washed away as he remembered what she was capable of in her fury.
Then the heat washed out of her and she sagged into the futon.
“So you see now,” she said, staring up at him. Her long lashes were tinged with dew, and Gabe couldn’t tear his gaze away. “You understand why I want — why I need to destroy him. My life can never move forward until I’ve torn myself from my past.”
“Yes,” he said, and the gruffness of his voice surprised him. The rage that sizzled inside him at her story had coated his throat so each word spewed like venom. “I understand.”
She clutched at his hands. “So you’ll help me? Please, I’m begging you. Please help me.”
19
Gabe squeezed Ligeia’s fingers. His pulse pounded so quickly that the metallic tang of anger coated the back of his tongue. He wanted to wrap his hands around John’s throat himself and squeeze his last breath out of his lungs.
But he couldn’t. That wasn’t his job and it wasn’t how this problem had to end.
He couldn’t even be sure how far John deserved his anger.
Gabe squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to settle his thoughts, but they refused to stop bouncing against the sides of his skull. He wished he’d called Percy before the siren began her tale. Amid all his doodads and software programs, Gabe was sure his friend possessed some kind of lie detector technology.
As it stood, he’d have to do his best to weigh it out and go with his gut. He took a few deep breaths and considered.
For one thing, her story sounded too convenient. She made herself out to be a victim of circumstance while taking no accountability for her own crimes. The fact that she expressed no remorse for the people she’d killed in the last couple of weeks sapped much of Gabe’s sympathy for what had happened back then.
At the same time, her emotions came off as sincere. Yes, she’d had a lot of time to rehearse her performance, but if she were telling the truth, she’d also had that long to brood over the injustice of what her townspeople had done to her.
He pictured John’s living room, full of expensive curios from around the world, and considered how many of them had likely come from less-than-legal transactions. The jinni struck Gabe as a man who always got what he wanted, and by the passion that had slipped into his voice at the mention of keeping Ligeia in a specially designed prison, Gabe guessed she would end up as yet one more item to add to his collection.
Now John’s anger at his suggestion to kill the siren made sense. Killing her would remove the jinni’s chance to possess her, and that was exactly what he wanted. He couldn’t care less about protecting the city — all he wanted was a living, breathing artifact that he could cage behind glass and croon over. Another trophy to remind himself of his power.
Assuming Ligeia was telling the truth. Gabe accepted that there was likely more to it, but no matter what the true story was, his answer to her was clear.
He opened his eyes, stared at her through the tint of his sunglasses, and said, “No. I can’t help you kill him.”
She drew her lips back and her teeth sharpened. Her strong fingers squeezed his. “Why? You know now what he did to me. Are you saying you don’t believe my story?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I want to, because believing you would offer some kind of explanation for the mayhem you’ve caused and the lives you’ve taken. Innocent lives, Ligeia. Men who had nothing to do with your imprisonment and didn’t even know you existed.”
Her rage faded into a harsh bitterness. “I doubt the men of your time are any different than the men of mine. If John bid them perform the task today, I’m sure they would set about it with the same enthusiasm.”
“We’ve come a long way in the last couple hundred years,” he said. “I don’t think they’d stone you for being a witch.”
Although part of him had to wonder if that were true. He considered his reasons for keeping his Gorgon-Fae blood a secret, how his parents had always told him and his brother to keep their true natures hidden. What had they been afraid of? What held Gabe back from revealing his secrets to the world?
“But it doesn’t matter how others would react,” he said, setting his doubts aside. “You can’t put your history behind you if the first thing you do is throw yourself at your past. Killing him will only chain you to what they did.” Ligeia winced and glanced at the manacles around her wrists. Gabe kicked himself for his choice of words, but pressed on. “It will only confirm that you are what he says you are.”
She hissed. “Why shouldn’t I be who he says I am? I have no reputation left to uphold, no friends or lover to run to when I am done here. Why should I not tear him limb from limb to satisfy my vengeance?”
The venom in her voice seeped like green ooze under Gabe’s skin, and a soft voice asked what the harm would be in letting Ligeia have her way. What other choice did she have except to submit to being an exhibit in a private museum? If he closed his eyes, looked the other way, and she succeeded in her revenge, he wouldn’t need to worry about his deal with John. His guilt over watching Ligeia waste away in a gilded cage would be removed from his shoulders…and all for the cost of one manipulative — and murderous — spirit.
If she failed and John bested her, the issue of the rampaging siren would also be resolved, at no cost to the deal.
Either way, another life on your hands, his conscience prodded. He released a sigh and answered her. “Because if your story is true and you did your best to create a real life for yourself here, you can be better than that.”
Gabe kept his words simple in the hopes that their meaning would cut through her anger faster than pleas for reason or moderation. His breath stilled as her gaze burrowed into the lenses of his sunglasses, but her snarl gradually eased into neutrality. She shifted her stare past his left ear. Her eyes shut down, fading to their stark whiteness, and the hair on the back of Gabe’s neck rose at the emptiness looking back at him.
He pulled one hand free and rubbed the back of his neck until the sk
in warmed.
“I know that’s not the answer you want,” he said, “but I’m afraid it’s all you’ll get from me.”
Ligeia replied with a slight shake of her head. “I never used to be such an angry woman, you know. Something about being so long under the water, circled by that unseen darkness, it unleashed something within me. I don’t like it, but I don’t know how to get rid of it, either. Hate is swimming in my veins, and the only cure for it is to get back at the people who did this to me.”
Again that mention of the darkness. Gabe made a note to ask her about it after he’d turned her mind from her violent undertaking. “I understand why you want revenge — seven hells, I probably would, too — but I don’t think you would get the satisfaction you hope to find.”
A trace of her attention drifted back to him, and she tilted her head. “You sound as though you know from experience.”
Gabe adjusted his sunglasses, relieved she couldn’t see the way his eyes narrowed at the memory her words evoked. “Not vengeance,” he said. “Just a lot of guilt.”
Ligeia watched his fingers play with the arm of his glasses. “Why do you never take those off?” The anger had seeped out of her voice, and only curiosity remained. “Do you believe I can lure you into my trap just by looking at you?”
Gabe offered a dry chuckle. “No. These are for your protection, not mine. I’m part Gorgon. One look into my eyes and you wouldn’t have to worry about being lost under the water again.”
Her eyebrows rose, the creases on her forehead marring her smooth perfection, and she drew her hand away from his. Then she laughed, a deep, bitter sound. “You are either a foolish man or a brave one.”
Her reaction jerked Gabe out of his forced calmness. “Why?”
“Does John know?”
“Yes. He found out when I went to negotiate with him.”
She eased into the futon. “I wondered why he came after me himself when he’d already hired someone to do the work for him. It makes sense now. You should consider yourself lucky that you came out when you did and chased the hounds away.”
“Why?” Gabe asked, warily. He put himself on alert for some trick in her words. Something else she might say against John to make him change his mind.
“Because he obviously meant to trap you, too. You’d be a perfect addition to his zoo.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Ligeia forced out a breath of impatience. “You told me you made a deal with him. You hand me over to him in exchange for help. What did you promise him if you failed?”
He ran through his conversation with John, his thoughts running through the same words he’d sifted through after coming home. “That I would hand the hunt over to him.”
She let out another rough laugh. “That’s hardly enough of a benefit for him. I suspect that if you looked closely, the true deal was either me or you. If he got me himself with his hounds, you wouldn’t be able to catch me, and therefore would have to fulfill the deal with your own head.”
Gabe’s mouth went numb as the logic of her reasoning sank in. One way or another, you will fill those chains.
He took a gulp of his drink to wash down the sourness of his stupidity. He should have listened to Allegra.
“When you fought me and lost your spectacles, you kept your eyes shut and your gaze averted,” Ligeia said, pulling Gabe out of his brooding. He looked at her and found her staring at him. “Why? I was about to kill you, and you chose not to do the same to me first.”
“Because I’m also trying to be better than I am,” Gabe said. He cleared his throat to remove the growl created by his anger. “My conscience carries enough weight that I’d rather not add to it if I can avoid it.”
She fell silent and pursed her lips, her eyes searching his face.
“And how do you manage to walk away?”
“It’s not always easy,” he said. “But I’ve found it’s been the only decision I could live with.”
She leaned into the futon and rested her chained hands in her lap. “After being trapped for so long with the memory of monsters, I don’t know if I’m capable of such magnanimity.”
Gabe shifted so he sat beside her, both of them staring at the boxes across the room. “Why didn’t you leave when you broke your chains, Ligeia? You were free. You could have gone wherever you wanted.”
She snorted. “Because I’m not free. May I have another drink, please?”
Gabe leaned over, grabbed the bottle and both glasses from the table, and topped them up with a healthy slosh. Again, she grimaced as the alcohol hit her tongue, but she shook it off and swallowed.
“It was part of our agreement,” she said. “He bound us together to ensure I could not leave him. I tried once. Before I turned down Robert, I tried to see if I could escape John. I wanted to know if we could leave town and make it impossible for him to find us. But the moment I stepped outside the city lines, my lungs grew tight and I couldn’t draw breath. I thought my heart might explode in my chest.”
She grabbed at the bodice of her dress as though the pain lingered.
“And when I came back, he knew I had tried. I explained that I’d had to get supplies for my nursing, that my delivery had been stalled outside of town. I don’t think he believed me, but he never accused me of being a liar to my face. I’m sure the binding still holds.”
Gabe imagined how confining it would feel to be in Ligeia’s position. And according to her, he wouldn’t have to imagine it if he failed to follow through on the agreement he’d made. He’d get a comfortable prison all to himself.
“While he’s alive, I’m trapped here,” Ligeia said. “And if I stay, he will come after me again.”
“So why haven’t you gone after him directly?” he asked, shifting in his seat to face her.
“I wasn’t strong enough,” she said. “I hadn’t eaten in so long, and while the anger fueled me enough to break my chains, it wouldn’t have been enough to take down John. You obviously haven’t yet seen the extent of his power.” She raised her chin and locked her gaze on his lenses. “You’ve expressed your opinion on what I’ve done, but for me, those men were the meal I’d been craving for centuries. By the time I broke the surface, there was barely enough of me to form my song and lure my first victim.”
In a breath, her fight appeared to wash out of her. “Although it only happened a short time ago, I feel I hardly recognize the woman who came out of the water. I lost all control. My mind was not my own and the strength in my blood was so unfamiliar I could believe it came from some external source. I wanted revenge, yes, but I never imagined I was capable of such burning desire to destroy everything around me.”
Gabe rolled his glass in his hands. “Do you think it had anything to do with the darkness you sensed in the water with you?”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought since I broke free. Perhaps it’s possible it got closer than I realized and lent me its strength. But what was it? What would be its purpose?”
Gabe gave a half shrug, making a note to discuss it with Allegra when he had a chance.
“All I remember next is breaking the surface and feeling wild, working only out of instinct. The weather around me grew colder and it started to snow. Somehow I knew I had made it happen, even though I’d never done anything like that before. Then the last time I sang, so many came. I don’t understand how I did that.” She raised her gaze to his. “Before you think me evil, I would not have fed on all of them. I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. To keep them enthralled as I fed would have required too much effort. Even as it stands, I regret I took so many.” She trailed off and then gave herself a shake and leaned toward him. “If you agree to help me, I will not need them. If you will not help me, I return to my previous request. Kill me. I would rather be dead then back in John’s hands.”
The way she presented the offer made Gabe realize that Ligeia and John weren’t so different from each other: both of them man
ipulative, both of them out to get what they wanted, no matter the cost. One — or both — of them a very good liar.
The alcohol did nothing but bubble in his stomach, so he set his glass down, stood up, and paced back and forth across the open space. His legs hissed with the movement, stiff and sore from the cold and the fight. The brush of his sweatshirt against the rips in his back rekindled into red fire, waking him up from his cold-induced languor.
As he passed the bathroom, he imagined disappearing under the spray of hot water for the rest of the day to think the situation through, but that would have to wait.
Ligeia said nothing, just watched him pace, and he stopped in the middle of the room to stare at her. Her white hair fell in long cascades, drying but still damp, and her dress continued to drip water on the floor. Everything about her screamed vulnerability, and despite her strength and the power of her song, Gabe’s desire to protect her threatened to overwhelm every other instinct.
But not enough to give in to her big white eyes so easily.
He crossed the room and sank down beside her. “I will you help you resolve this, but I won’t help you kill him. I made a deal to bring you to him, but maybe we can find a way around it. I can try to talk to him and maybe we can find some middle ground.”
Ligeia frowned. “It won’t work. He would present a counteroffer to anything you suggested, and in the confusion, you might agree to something that would ruin you.”
Just as Allegra had said. Gabe wished he could pick up the phone and see what she had to say about the dilemma he found himself in now, but she had made her position crystal clear: she wanted nothing more to do with this case. The decision had to rest with him.
The responsibility weighed on his shoulders and a tingle on the back of his neck warned him to tread carefully. For a moment he was standing on the threshold of his family home as it teetered over the water — only this time something lurked in the depths of the river, and he didn’t know which decision would send him hurtling headfirst toward it.