Heart of Siren (Merworld Book 1)

by D. N. Leo

  Now Lorcan needed to approach him and snatch the electronic swipe code so he could access the artifact in the basement of the boat. He could break the door lock in an instant, but breaking the code of the safe would take time—and he didn’t have much of that to spare—so stealing the code was his first choice.

  He took a few steps toward the VIP lounge, and the woman in the red dress stepped out right in front of him.

  Damn it, he thought and pasted a polite smile on his face.

  “Mitch Wayland, rollercoaster tycoon. What a pleasure to meet you,” the woman said in a sexy, throaty voice.

  He chuckled. The woman had done her homework with the guest list and had seen his picture. Obviously, though, she hadn’t researched well enough to know that it was only his cover.

  “Just a line of business I’m lucky to do well in. I’m not exactly a tycoon.”

  “Aren’t you?” She smiled, tracing a finger down his lapel. “I’d like another glass of champagne, but these heels are killing me. Would you mind getting me another glass at the bar upstairs?”

  She handed him her glass before he could come up with an excuse to get away from her. As soon as his hand touched her velvet glove, he felt a prick on his finger.

  He shook his head to clear his vision, and then his world started to spin. The woman smiled at him. She thrust one velvet-gloved hand at him. He could see it better now. It hadn’t been her glove, but a gigantic diamond ring she wore that had pricked him with a needle.

  He saw the needle as if she were moving in slow motion. Or maybe he was seeing things that way because his mind had become numb after the initial jab. She stuck him once more in his neck. He knew what she was doing, but he couldn’t move either to grab her hand or get away from the ring.

  Oh hell, he thought before the image of the woman in front of him became blurry, and his world started to spin out of orbit.

  Chapter 2

  Liv thought it would be a lot harder to get a man of Lorcan’s caliber. His reputation in the business typically made his opponents cringe. But not her. She didn’t have much experience in spying, but she was sure she was a better assassin than he was.

  He was lucky killing him wasn’t her mission. Otherwise, the job would be a slam dunk, and she would be bored out of her brain for the rest of the evening.

  Lorcan’s knees buckled, and he fell into her arms. “Oh darling, you’ve had a bit to drink, haven’t you?” she said as she dragged him, staggering, to a nearby room and pushed him inside.

  He was gorgeous, leaning against the dark polished wood wall of the small cabin. Dark hair, masculine face, lips made for sex, and striking blue eyes that were fighting for consciousness.

  “The dose isn’t nearly enough to sedate a man your size, so don’t pretend. We have work to do, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead and looked into his eyes. “Hmm, I guess you aren’t pretending. Alcohol and sedatives probably aren’t a good mix for you. I’ll fix you up when we get downstairs.”

  The compartment served as an internal elevator and went down to the basement. Liv was relieved as the woeful music on deck faded out and became inaudible. She pushed open the door and saw a crew member walking past.

  She pulled out a gun with a silencer and fired point-blank at the man. Then, in one swift move, she pulled his dead body into the small compartment and pushed Lorcan out.

  “Let that be an example to you,” she muttered to Lorcan as she pushed him along the very narrow corridor of the basement.

  He staggered left and right and tried to sit down several times. She had to haul him up and keep pushing him along, steering him in the right direction.

  “Keep walking. You can barely stay conscious, so don’t even think about running.”

  Soon they arrived at a small storage room door, and Liv pushed him inside. She came in with him and locked the door.

  He glanced around at the room. “If we’re after the same thing, it certainly isn’t in here,” Lorcan said, his voice slurred by the effects of the drug.

  She pushed Lorcan slightly aside, pulled out a compact laser gun, and etched a large circle on the ceiling. As soon as the circle was closed, the ceiling dropped down, bringing with it the safe from the room above.

  From the hole in the ceiling, the tycoon looked down in astonishment. Liv smiled up at him, pointed her silenced gun upward, and fired. The tycoon, screaming profanity, ducked out of the way of the bullet.

  “He’s not a very good host, is he?” she said to Lorcan, who had slid to the floor and was about to lose consciousness.

  She punched a button on the wall of the compartment. It shuddered. The ceiling closed up again, and the compartment detached itself from the boat.

  “A submarine? You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lorcan slurred.

  “Yes, it’s a disposable submarine. You have three minutes to get the box out of the safe. No time to nap now.”

  “No chance.” He closed his eyes.

  “You can remain at the bottom of the ocean with the safe or remove the box and go to the surface.” She grabbed his hand, snapped a locked band to his wrist, and secured his hand to the handle of the safe.

  He stomped his foot against her abdomen, causing her to fall backward and hit her head on the wall. She didn’t pass out, but she couldn’t move. The hit had dazed her.

  It took Lorcan only fifteen seconds to free himself from the locked band. He looked at the lock on the safe. She knew the challenge would be tempting for him. And she was right.

  In a mere thirty seconds, he had the safe opened. In it, he found a small steel box, slightly larger than his palm, the lid engraved with strange symbols.

  Liv flexed her muscles but still couldn’t move. Her vision was blurry, but through the blur, she saw a stream of white smoke appear behind Lorcan. She opened her mouth to warn him, but no sound came out.

  In the center of the small submarine compartment, a white-haired woman dressed in a long black robe appeared.

  Lorcan growled. “You’ve got to be a hologram.”

  She raised her right hand in the air, and the steel box in his hand shook and flew toward her.

  On the floor, Liv did her best to reach for her gun. On her first attempt, only her fingertips touched it. She tried once more and grabbed the weapon. She fired at the woman in the black robe. The bullet went through her head as if it wasn’t even there and hit the wall of the compartment.

  “So you’re definitely a hologram,” Lorcan said and dove at the hand holding the steel box.

  The woman glared at him with bloodshot, witchy eyes.

  Lorcan jerked his hand back as soon as it touched her.

  “You’re real!” he gasped.

  The woman in black held the box tightly. Lorcan tugged at it again and pushed her backward with his other hand. She gripped the box even tighter, grabbing his neck with her free hand to choke him.

  The woman had to be some kind of supernatural being to have the strength to choke him with one hand, holding him up with his legs dangling.

  Lorcan couldn’t free himself. He slammed the hand holding the box again and again to the wall as hard as he could. When she finally dropped him to the floor, he kicked her legs out from under her.

  They both fell to the ground, but she wouldn’t let go of the box.

  Liv scrambled up. “Get away from the box!” she shouted.

  Lorcan let go and kicked his feet against the wall to slide himself backward on the floor.

  Liv fired at the lock on the box three times. It sprung open, revealing a round artifact inside with three interlocking colored stones.

  The woman in the black robe hissed and backed away from the artifact as if afraid to touch it.

  Then the submarine shuddered and exploded.

  Chapter 3

  Cool. Calm. Serene. Those were the best words Lorcan could come up with to describe what he was experiencing. The best thing he could do to prolong this pleasure was t
o keep his eyes closed and enjoy.

  When he finally opened his eyes, he sighed. Orla had been right. They’d known each other since they were kids, and she’d sworn she had never seen him totally relaxed. What she didn’t know was that he was only tense when it came to her safety. Lorcan promised himself he would finish this job early and then take Orla on a long vacation to a remote island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, where they would lie in the sun all day and watch fish swimming lazily in a fish tank. Why they had to be in a fish tank, he really had no idea. He blinked and bolted upright.

  He was lying on a lab bench in a room with a glass ceiling belonging to an immense fish tank. There was no way this was a hallucination. Fish swam above him and outside the glass walls surrounding him on both sides.

  Am I dead? Is this a submarine version of heaven?

  But Lorcan was sure if he had died, he wouldn’t go to heaven. So he ruled that idea out.

  Strands of seaweed floated above him, and fish swam to and fro in the water above and to the sides of him. When a curious little rainbow of striped fish swam close to his face, one of them wrinkled its nose and winked at him.

  “Oi!” Lorcan shouted and backed away from the fish. It looked at him, seemingly amused. Then it turned around, wiggled its tail, and swam away.

  Lorcan turned his head toward the bed. He felt dizzy. His knees buckled again, and he fell, grabbing the edge of the bed. He found himself lifted by supporting hands. Someone helped him onto the bed. He turned around and drew in a sharp breath when he saw the most beautiful face.

  “I’m Faye, your nurse. Take it easy. I want you to lie back down. You’ve been in an explosion.”

  “Explosion? Oh yes, that’s right. I must have a concussion…”

  Faye stuck a needle into his arm. He frowned. There were no beeping machines, no drip line, and none of the medical tubes and equipment usually attached to an IV needle.

  “Yes, you had a severe concussion.”

  His vision started to blur. “I was hallucinating. I thought I saw a fish winking at me…”

  Faye chuckled. “That wasn’t a hallucination. You saw Daisy, and she’s a naughty little fish. I told her not to disturb our patients. But she did wink at you.”

  “A talking fish? Where am I?”

  He grabbed his left side and felt a lingering pain. He tried to jump off the bed he was lying on, but his knees wouldn’t hold his weight, and he landed face down on a sandy floor.

  Faye helped him up and gave him a disapproving look. “You’re in no shape to move around like that.”

  He looked around again and saw that where the walls weren’t glass but rock with bits of embedded shell and coral. Outside the walls, schools of fish swam by at leisure. He glanced at what looked like a door and thought if he dared to push it open, he would walk right into a giant fish tank.

  He remembered the explosion—the submarine, the spooky woman in the black robe, and the unaccomplished spy job. He felt the urge to search his pocket for the artifact but figured it was most likely not there. If he had grabbed it, whoever had undressed him would have seen it and probably taken it.

  Did I get the artifact at all? Or was it lost at sea? He searched his mind frantically for an answer, but none came to him.

  “Where are my companions?” he asked.

  “Let’s talk later. When the doctor clears you, I’ll take you around so you can see where you are. But you were brought into this hospital alone.”

  “Have you been taking care of me the whole time?”

  Faye raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, I should say thank you…” He donned a fake but friendly smile but could feel the potent drug she’d given him starting to take effect. His eyes felt like they weighed a ton, and her voice seemed to echo in his head. “How long have I been here?”

  “Only a couple of days. You have nothing to worry about. Just rest.”

  Faye laid him down. Before falling into oblivion, he heard a male voice. It was saying something in a language he didn’t understand, and Faye responded in the same strange language.

  The short conversation became quickly heated, and the male voice rose in volume and then spoke in English, “You don’t think I know your origin? You even speak the human’s language. Don’t fool around with me.”

  “It’s English, one of the languages used on Earth. And yes, I’m educated and well-traveled. I like the English language, and I use it a lot. But that proves nothing about my origin. I use English to speak with Lorcan because it’s his mother tongue.”

  “All right. So pry the information out of him, then, will you?”

  “I told you, his condition doesn’t allow for long conversation. He doesn’t seem to remember anything. Memory loss after trauma is very common in humans. I’m amazed he survived the blast.”

  “If it’s unlikely he’ll give us any information, terminate him. I don’t want to waste resources.”

  “That’s not for you to decide—”

  “I’m in charge here. It’s because of me that he’s still breathing.”

  Lorcan felt an impact against his bed, and he thought maybe the man had shoved Faye.

  He flexed the muscles in his arms but knew he had no hope of moving anytime soon, so he kept his eyes closed.

  “He’s injured. He couldn’t help it…”

  He felt Faye’s face pushed down against his. The male voice was close. “He couldn’t help it, or you couldn’t help falling for his pretty face? How many times have we had a human being down here who survived? Zero? So you couldn’t help it, could you?”

  “I’ll try. When he wakes, I’ll ask him. If he dies, all of your efforts will be in vain.”

  “I’m not a man of patience. Wake him up, and I’ll beat the information out of him.”

  Lorcan felt his upper body lifted as if someone had grabbed him by the neck.

  “That won’t help anything. If he dies, you’ll lose everything,” said Faye.

  A pause, and then his body was thrown back onto the bed.

  “All right, I’ll give you two more days. Get the info out of him, or I’ll finish you both.”

  Lorcan felt some struggling beside him on the bed. He thought Faye was likely trying to push the man away from her.

  He tried to move again without success.

  Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a slap.

  The man chuckled. “One day you’ll crawl to me and beg me to take you, Faye.”

  Silence.

  Then Lorcan’s consciousness slipped away from him.

  This is the end of the prologue.

  >>> GET THE PROLOGUE <<<

  or https://dnleo.com/merworld

  BONUS - SURGE OF MAGIC - SPELL BREAKER

  Chapter 1

  There is only one happiness in life -- to love and to be loved.

  George Sand (1804-1876)

  She lay on the cold floor of a dungeon flooded with water. A bunch of tangled weeds tied her hands, and a pair of bony hands grabbed at her legs, pinning them to the dungeon floor.

  She thrashed her legs, pulled her arms, and tried to roll her body around—nothing seemed to work.

  She couldn’t scream, and she couldn’t cry for help—she wasn’t really the crying type anyway. “How long can I hold my breath?” she wondered.

  She was twenty-nine now. She was full of life and had been on the path to a better future. At least, that was what she’d thought.

  The water was everywhere.

  Ten minutes earlier, Orla had held tightly to a rusty steel pipe running across the ceiling of a dark and cold dungeon. Although she was flexible and as agile as a leopard, hanging in the same position with her feet braced against a small ledge halfway through a wall for an hour had pushed her muscle strength to the limit.

  The Thames River was not as patient as she, and the tides raised by the minute, flooding the drains and leaking water into the dungeon. She couldn’t see the floor anymore. She wagered that she would quickly have to get out and fi
nd another way to break into the building.

  Orla had done a countless number of jobs of this nature. She was a high-profile, experienced antique transporter. She disagreed with those who referred to her profession as thievery.

  She wasn’t a thief. She didn’t steal and resell for profit. Instead, she provided a service to her clients who wanted to claim ownership of antique items. She removed items of interest from the current owners and transferred them to her clients.

  She didn’t care about the person who had original ownership or what the new owner would do with the item. Most of the merchandise had ambiguous origins to begin with and had been dealt with by underground collectors—she doubted anyone could prove genuine ownership anyway.

  Orla looked at the barred lid of a small door leading to the compartment above, the dim light coming from it shedding a bit of blue down to the dungeon.

  “What’s taking you so long, Lorcan?” she mumbled to herself.

  All she needed was a signal from Lorcan that he had jammed all the securities in the above compartment, and then she could climb up to that barred door, on which she had loosened all the screws.

  She heard the painful shriek of a cat from the above compartment, a thud, footsteps, and another shriek. A tiny kitten dropped through the bars of the door lid. It clawed at the bars, trying to hang on. Orla heard the sound of door closing from the above compartment. The kitten was losing its grasp of the bar. It meowed and shrieked at the same time.

  She heard a bang from the far end of the dungeon.

  “Damn it.”

  The floodgate had been broken - the water from the river gushed into the dungeon. In minutes, it would be completely under water. She had to leave right now.

  Orla jumped down to the floor of the dungeon. She was five foot seven, and the water had risen to her waist in only a few minutes. She treaded ahead toward the exit.