Siren

by Tricia Rayburn

  I stared at her. “Where’s Dad?”

  She pressed one manicured hand to her forehead. “Your father is in Boston.”

  I strode across the kitchen and grabbed the phone from the wall.

  “What are you doing? This conversation isn’t over.”

  “Dad understands,” I said, dialing quickly. “He didn’t come because he knows I needed time. He knows this was what I needed to do. And since you obviously don’t get it, maybe he can try explaining it to you again.”

  I turned away from her as the phone rang on the other end. It rang once, twice, three times. After six rings, I hung up and tried again.

  “No answer.” It wasn’t a question.

  I hung up and walked past her, out of the kitchen.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Vanessa,” she called after me. “If you want to stay here all summer, that’s fine by me. The deck will make a lovely home office.”

  I grabbed my duffel bag from the downstairs bedroom and dragged it into the bathroom. I showered quickly but took longer than usual getting dressed. I’d never paid attention to what I wore when Simon and I hung out, but today was different. I was different. I wanted him to know that, even if circumstances kept us apart. Also, if I’d learned anything from watching Justine get ready for countless dates, it was that the right clothes and makeup could mean the difference between leaving a lasting impression and none at all.

  Of course, I’d had no idea before leaving Boston that I’d have reason to wear anything other than jeans, shorts, T-shirts, and sweatshirts in Maine. My options limited, I finally decided on a clean pair of jeans, a white tank top, and a fitted purple cardigan. My footwear selection was also limited, so the best I could do was switch from sneakers to flip-flops. I left my hair loose to air dry and put on mascara and lip gloss—which I happened to have only because Justine had insisted I always carry them in my purse, just in case.

  When I was done, I looked in the mirror above the sink. I almost expected to see flashes of silver surround my reflection, just as I had the morning Simon had shown up before we went to the Winter Harbor Marina. When they weren’t there, I was almost disappointed.

  Back in the kitchen, Mom was still at the table. She didn’t look up from her laptop as I passed. “I’m not going to chain you to the couch to get you to stay. But you can at least tell me where you’re going.”

  I paused with my hand on the door. That was it? Even Dad put up a bigger fight when he was unhappy with me. “Betty’s,” I said without turning around.

  She sipped her coffee. “Dinner’s at six. Call if you’re going to be late.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her that I would be back when I was back, and that I’d been managing to eat all on my own … but then closed it. There were several other people whose company I would’ve preferred to Mom’s, but the thought of her being there—of someone being there—when I got back wasn’t entirely terrible.

  Simon and Caleb were ready and waiting for me on the front porch by the time I reached their yard.

  “Sorry it took so long,” I said, quickening my pace. “I had a surprise visitor.”

  Simon looked toward our driveway. His eyes grew wide when he spotted the BMW.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere—at least not yet. I think she just needed to see me in person to believe that I hadn’t fallen off the planet.” I peered behind Simon, at Caleb. He sat in a wicker chair, eyes closed and head bobbing. “Is he okay?”

  “I think so. And he seems to think that Green Day will help keep him that way.”

  We were quiet on the drive to town. Caleb listened to his iPod and stared out the window in the backseat. Simon focused on the road ahead. And I thought about what I would ask Paige, feeling less sure about everything the closer we got to Betty’s. It was one thing to imagine talking to Paige with Zara nearby while safe in the Carmichaels’ kitchen, but it was definitely another to actually do so.

  “Wow,” I said as we turned onto Main Street. I almost didn’t recognize it—the sidewalks were too quiet for such a sunny day, and yellow banners announcing the first annual Lighthouse Marina Resort and Spa Northern Lights Festival stretched overhead, across the road.

  “What does that mean, ‘first annual’?” I asked. “My family and I go—went—to the Northern Lights Festival every year.”

  “This is the first time it’s sponsored by the Lighthouse.” Caleb sounded resigned. “There was an article about it in the Herald this morning. It said this year’s festival will attract thousands of guests from across New England and promises to be the best ever by combining old traditions with exciting new rides, games, and activities.”

  “It’s in a week,” Simon said quietly as we passed underneath.

  He didn’t elaborate, but I knew what he was thinking. A lot could happen in a week: between bodies washing onshore and families fleeing for safety, there might not be anyone left in town by the time the first festival lights were lit.

  “Park in the main lot,” I said as we neared Betty’s and the mermaid logo above the front door grew larger. “Staff parks in the back.”

  Simon did as I instructed, slowing down and opening his window as we approached the lot entrance.

  “Reservation?”

  “Hey, Garrett.” I leaned across the middle console.

  “Vanessa.” He lowered his clipboard and smiled. “Hey. You missed a great concert the other day. Are you working?”

  “I’m just picking up a check, actually. Is it okay if we park here while I run in?”

  His smile faltered at “we.” He looked at his clipboard and then behind him, at the lot. “I guess so.”

  “Thanks. You’re the best.”

  “Oh, by the way.” He leaned down to look at me through Simon’s open window just as we were about to pull away. “A bunch of people are going out tonight. Do you want to come? We could grab dinner first?”

  I tried to smile as Simon looked down at his lap. “That sounds great … but I don’t think I can tonight.”

  His eyes shifted to Simon as he stood back up. “Right. Maybe another time.”

  We pulled into a space toward the end of the lot, away from the main dining room’s windows. I turned to Simon, not sure whether I should explain the dinner Garrett referred to, or if he even cared.

  “Okay,” he said before I could decide. “Do what you need to, but do it quickly. And the second you feel uncomfortable, get out of there.”

  “I will,” I said. “I promise.”

  Caleb’s arm shot between the seats. “Aerosmith,” he said, shaking a portable CD player at Simon. “Old school, but effective.”

  I climbed out of the car and hurried across the parking lot. I tried to focus on what I wanted to find out from Paige, like if Zara had said where she was yesterday, if she was acting weird, or if she’d mentioned anything about her latest boyfriend recently, but my head spun too fast to think straight.

  Seeing Zara first didn’t help. She stood in the dining room near the lobby, taking orders from a young couple. She talked and smiled like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, like she hadn’t just tried to brainwash and seduce her next victim less than twenty-four hours before. The headache started as soon as I spotted her, but this time, my stomach turned, too.

  I ducked behind the hostess station until she turned away from me to help another table, then scanned the dining room. No Paige. I grabbed a stack of menus and held them to the side of my face as I scurried along the dining room’s back wall and shot through the kitchen door.

  “Louis, where’s Paige?” I dashed toward the counter where he stood.

  “Good morning to you, too, my dear.” His knife sliced through carrots, sending fat orange discs flying across the counter. “Actually, I take that back. It’s not good. It’s quite the opposite. Pretty Miss Paige decided to call in sick for the first time ever.”

  “Sick?” My heart skipped. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m a chef, not a doctor. All I know i
s that she’s not here, and Satan’s offspring has already threatened to fire me three times.”

  “Louis! You call this poached?”

  My head snapped toward the swinging door, then back to Louis. “Hang in there.”

  I ran out the back door and behind the staff cars. The red Mini Cooper was parked next to the Dumpster. I glanced in the driver’s-side window, encouraged when the atlas and pile of clothes were gone. It looked like Zara was taking a day off from her pursuit.

  “What happened?” Simon said when I threw open the passenger’s-side door. “Was she there?”

  “Yes,” Caleb said.

  I looked at Simon then turned toward the backseat. Caleb was still listening to his iPod, but he’d slid down the seat. His eyes were wide and his breathing fast.

  “She’s there.” He looked at me. “I can hear her.”

  His bottom lip trembled and a thin stream of perspiration ran from his temple to the back of his neck. They were separated by a hundred yards, by walls made of wood and concrete, but he was transforming into the scared Caleb we’d found the day before. It was as if Zara stood right outside the car, smiling down at him.

  Vanessa …

  My eyes grew as wide as his.

  She’s not done…. She won’t stop until she has him … or until you stop her….

  I turned back to Simon. “We have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “To their house.” I waited for Caleb to protest from the backseat but only heard him inhale a sharp, shaky breath. “Now.”

  CHAPTER 16

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER I stood on the Marchands’ front porch. I glanced over my shoulder, happy when I couldn’t see the Subaru hidden in a cluster of trees at the end of the driveway. “Hello, Vanessa.”

  My head snapped back. Raina stood in the open doorway, wearing a sheer white caftan over a black bikini. Her face, still striking without a touch of makeup, was blank. Her dark hair was wet, and she smelled like salt, like she’d just come in from a swim.

  “Hi.” I forced a smile and resisted the urge to look behind me again.

  “May I help you with something?”

  “Nope,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I mean, I was just looking for Paige.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to look at Betty’s. Paige is at work.”

  If she were just Paige’s mother, I would’ve explained that I’d already been to Betty’s, which was where I’d learned Paige wasn’t well. But because she was Zara’s mother, too, I thought the more left unsaid, the better.

  “Silly me.” I waved one hand. “I thought she was off today.”

  Her expression didn’t change as she moved to close the door. “Tell her hello for me when you see her.”

  “Actually,” I said, bringing one hand to the door, “I don’t know if I’ll make it all the way to town today. Would it be okay if I left a note?”

  She paused. “I’m happy to pass along a message. What would you like me to tell her?”

  “It’s private.”

  She looked as surprised as I was by my boldness. I probably should’ve let her close the door in my face and sprinted as fast as my flip-flops would carry me back to the car. But I knew she was lying. And that just made me even more determined to get inside.

  “It’s girl stuff,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’m completely hung up on this guy who doesn’t know I exist—but I just have to tell Paige about my latest lame attempt to get him to notice me.”

  She pursed her lips, clearly trying to decide whether I was really that clueless.

  “See?” I pointed to my face, which had turned fuchsia the second she opened the door. “This happens when I talk about him. Can you imagine how ridiculous I look when I’m actually near him? Total disaster.”

  Her face relaxed slightly. “You might want to start with those clothes.”

  I looked down, thrown by the suggestion—and that she seemed to believe me.

  “You’re seventeen, yes?”

  I looked up and nodded.

  “That figure is the best it’s going to be. Take advantage of it. Show it off. Trust me—he’ll notice.”

  “Okay … thanks.”

  Apparently deciding I needed more help than that, she opened the door wider. My heart raced as I stepped inside. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the soft living room light, but I thought I saw two women retreat to the kitchen after seeing who was at the door.

  “A woman’s power over a man is her strongest weapon.” Raina crossed the living room and motioned to the couch. “Used correctly, it can get her anything she wants.”

  “Oh.” I sat down. “Well, all I want is for him to see me when I’m standing in front of him.”

  She tilted her head and smiled, like she found my innocence cute. “Stay there. I have just the thing.”

  I watched her leave the room. I was curious to see what she returned with but also knew this was my chance. Hearing drawers open and close, I jumped up and flew toward the stairs.

  Hurry, Nessa….

  I took the stairs two at a time, then sprinted down the hall toward Paige’s room.

  The other way … Go the other way….

  I shook my head against Justine’s voice. The only room in the other direction was Betty’s.

  “Paige?” I knocked on her door and opened it at the same time. “Sorry to barge in, but Louis said you were sick, and Raina said you were at work, and I just had to see you because I have to talk to you about—”

  I stopped once the door was closed behind me. She was stretched out on a daybed, propped up by pillows and covered in white blankets. She wore a white turtleneck that she’d pulled up to her chin. She was bundled up like it was winter, yet the sun still shone outside and all the windows were open, letting in a salty breeze.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, walking toward her. “Do you have a fever? I can close the windows—”

  “Don’t,” she said. “The air’s nice.”

  I sat on the bed next to her. Besides the winter attire, she didn’t look sick at all; her hair fell past her shoulders in loose tendrils, her cheeks were flushed pink, and her silver eyes glittered. “Paige … why do you look like you just came in from making snow angels?”

  “Vanessa,” she said, leaning toward me. “We’re close, right?”

  I glanced at the door. “Right.”

  “They told me I shouldn’t tell anyone,” she said, her eyes shining brighter. “They said it wasn’t the kind of thing people really wanted to hear, considering we’re so young and our backgrounds are so different … but it’s not like everyone won’t find out eventually. And I know you won’t tell anyone.”

  “Won’t tell anyone what?” I asked. I cared about Paige but didn’t know how embedded in the Marchand inner circle I wanted to be.

  She leaned closer. “My secret.”

  “I won’t tell,” I said, since she seemed to be waiting for me to say so, and I wanted to move this along so I could get out of there. “Promise.”

  Her smile grew. “I’m pregnant.”

  You have to go, Nessa….

  “Isn’t it amazing?” she squealed softly, her nose scrunching. “I mean, I know I’m young. And Jonathan’s young. And I’m staying here and he’s going to school, but I really think it’s going to be fine. It wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t meant to be, and we’ll just make it work. No matter what, we’ll make it work.”

  My brain strained to process this. “What did your mom say?” I finally asked, thinking of my own.

  She brought one hand to her flushed forehead. “Oh my goodness, I was so scared to tell her.” She lowered her hand and shook her head. “But she was great. She actually knew what was going on before I did. I hadn’t been feeling well for a little while—I was nauseous, hot, and thirsty all the time. I’d take cold showers and drink gallons of ice water and still feel like I was baking in the desert. And then two days ago, she noticed me sweating after my third cold shower and asked what was goi
ng on. I told her how I was feeling, and she immediately put it together. She said she felt the same way during her pregnancies.”

  “And she was really okay with it?” I asked, blinking away images of Simon and me in his room only a few hours before.

  “She really was. Zara was shocked at first and didn’t talk to me for a few days, but she eventually came around, too. They both said a new life is a beautiful gift whenever it comes, and that we should always welcome it. What I don’t welcome?” She made a face and held up a glass pitcher filled with murky green liquid. “Salt water—from the ocean, complete with seaweed—is Mom’s strange, magical cure. It works, but I have to drink it nonstop … and it tastes as good as it looks.”

  My stomach turned as my eyes followed the brown and green clumps floating through the water.

  “The salt baths help, too. I have to take one of those every hour. Which is why, getting back to your original question, I look like I just came in from making snow angels.” She reached for my hand. “Do you want to feel?”

  “I don’t think so, I really should—”

  She moved aside the blankets, slid her sweater above her belly button, and placed my hand against her stomach. When I felt the movement swimming below the surface of her skin, I yanked my hand back.

  “Crazy, right? I swear, the kid’s going to be an Olympian.”

  “You know, I should probably get going,” I said, standing. “My mom’s in town, and I told her I wouldn’t be gone long.”

  “Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Her face was concerned as she lowered her sweater.

  I’d been walking backward but stopped just in front of the door. Every bone in my body wanted to bolt for the nearest exit—but I’d already come this far, and given Paige’s strange medical quarantining, I didn’t know when I’d see her again. By the time I did, it could be too late.

  “Actually, yes … it’s about Zara.”

  “Is she giving the staff problems already? She’s under strict orders not to fire anyone for any reason while I’m gone.”