LURE

by Stephanie Jenkins

  “Didn’t you hear? Sidney died yesterday. School’s trying to get Dalton to replace him, but until then, no trig.”

  Mr. Sidney was dead. If everything was normal, and I learned that the person who’d creeped me out in my dream was dead, I wouldn’t freak out. But nothing was regular anymore. Though I hated to admit it, some part of me had already known Sidney was gone. I’d known it the moment he appeared in my nightmare. I began to tremble. “How’d he die?” I wheezed. Wyatt’s hand automatically found my knee, and tingles raced from my legs to my toes and back up again.

  “He had a heart attack boating with his kid.”

  Just stay calm. Just. Stay. Calm. “Th-that’s horrible for his family.” My voice cracked. Matt nodded in agreement. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Wyatt’s face was drawn. “Matt, this is my, um . . . this is Wyatt.”

  Matt acknowledged Wyatt by raising his chin, and Golden Boy’s response was just as robotic and cold. Matt gestured to the girl standing next to him. “This is Eva.” She thinned bow-shaped lips into a smile then resumed chewing on the stirrer.

  She linked her arm in his, glanced up, and gave him one of those looks that would probably screw with any guy’s mind. “We have that thing to do, Matt,” she said. I felt hideous for flirting with him so blatantly a few days ago. Plus, I didn’t exactly seem saintly since I went to the paintball field with him and was now at a festival with Wyatt.

  “Right, that thing.” Matt saluted me. “Catch you around, Goose.”

  Wyatt cleared his throat to get my attention. He looked pale now. “Why does he call you Goose?”

  I eased his hand off me and laughed. “I threw up vodka on his feet a few years back.” The festival fireworks started, and I flipped over on my stomach, pretending to watch. Matt’s words about Mr. Sidney haunted me. Made me wonder who else from my dreams was dead?

  When Wyatt took me home, Lorelei’s car was still in our driveway. He laughed. “What so funny?” I pressed my backside against the front door.

  “Your face. You don’t like her, do you?”

  I didn’t know what to think of Lorelei. Part of me wanted to dislike her, especially when she called my brother ‘Cammy’ and giggled and treated me like we were long lost friends. But the other part was thankful she covered for me and lied to my dad.

  “She’s alright, I guess.”

  “You squint when you lie.”

  I pursed my lips, surprised he caught on so fast to my mannerisms. “Stop trying to learn me, Golden Boy.”

  “Can’t help it when you’re so fun to study. Come to my family’s barbecue this Friday night.”

  So fun to study? I wondered how long he’d waited to use that line. I ran the tip of my tongue over my teeth so I wouldn’t smile. “Maybe,” I said.

  “It’ll be our third date.”

  I pulled my lip between my teeth trying to decide whether or not to kiss him. “We’ve never been on a date.” But for someone I’d never officially gone out with, Wyatt Anderson was affecting me. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, a mixture of need and admiration. Or the way he said my name. Whatever it was, the attraction was strong and unavoidable. I pulled his head down to mine. The kiss was soft, not rushed like the one on the beach, and I took the lead this time. His hand pressed into the small of my back, pulling our bodies close together.

  A slow smile eased across his mouth after he drew away. “Not a date, huh? What was that?”

  “Trial run. See you later,” I said. His mouth hung open. As I shut the door in his face, he asked what a ‘Golden Boy’ was.

  Cam was on the couch and Lorelei played the piano. The keys always screeched under my fingers, but she somehow managed to make the out-of-tune instrument sound new. Both of their heads popped up as I stomped across the floor. She never stopped playing.

  “I’m home,” I huffed.

  Cam nodded. His face appeared void of emotion, as if he was in a trance. What was with him lately? My brother’s dazed mode worried me more than his emo alcoholic one. For a moment, I wondered if she had slipped something into his drink. I stared at her accusingly.

  Her green eyes locked on me, and she mouthed, “No.” The sonata she played suddenly changed. Something sinister and familiar leaked from the old piano. She began to sing.

  The realization that she was the person I heard at the beach, at Romano’s, knocked me backwards, and she quit playing when I stumbled. Cam’s hands grabbed my shoulders. He led me to the recliner. “Are you okay?” he demanded, shaking me.

  I banged my forehead against my knees. She was deliberately trying to mess with my head, I was sure of it. Then again, maybe I was imagining it all. That had to be it. Lorelei’s song, Mr. Sidney and Brian’s deaths, even tonight’s “trial run” with Wyatt was a twisted figment of my imagination. Cam said my name a few more times, but I didn’t answer. I only looked up after I heard the beep of cordless phone buttons. “I‘m calling Da—”

  “No!” Lorelei and I spoke in unison. She stood behind my brother grasping a glass of water. “I’m sure she just needs a drink.” She pushed the glass into my palm, took a few steps back, and watched me carefully. As soon as the water hit my tongue, I tasted the sweetness. Salt. Cam stood over me with a puzzled expression.

  Behind him, Lorelei pressed one finger to her lips.

  CHAPTER NINE

  My eyes were stuck to the computer screen for so long that the Google logo began to look like “Goggle.” Rocking back in the chair, I wiped a smudge off the right corner of the glass to look at the time. Eight minutes after 11--nearly an hour had passed since I sat down. “You’re a wimp, Brewer,” I hissed, typing in what I needed to look up for the fiftieth time. It was impossible not to punk out when my sanity was at stake. Despite my shaky hands, this time, I worked up the nerve to hit enter.

  My answer was the third result on the page.

  “Stepmother arrested after death of 8-year-old girl.” I scrolled down until I came to a picture and choked on my water. The girl had chin-length, chestnut hair, green eyes, and a dimple in her left cheek. Even though the kid in the picture was freckled and tanned instead of one shade away from transparent, I knew she was the girl I spoke to in my nightmare.

  The stepmother of 8-year-old Mia Dunn was arrested today on suspicion of causing her death. Beverly Dunn, 24, of Virginia Beach was arrested this morning for the murder of her stepdaughter, Mia. The body of Mia Dunn, who has been missing since early June, was found last Friday in the Chesapeake Bay.

  Reading about little kids passing away always ruined my day, but tonight it made me physically sick. I tossed back the rest of my water. Mia Dunn’s unforgettable words pounded in my head: “My step-mom said I was a mistake.”

  Why had a girl I’d never met, never even heard of up until now, showed up in my dream. My fingers were heavy and mechanical as I searched for more people who had died recently. No surprise that I recognized the pictures attached to four news stories within the past two weeks. Murder, drunk drowning, boating accidents . . . what the hell was I? The Water Ghost Whisperer?

  “Of course I’m not,” I said. “I’m imagining this.”

  My imagination was getting just a tad too scary for my taste.

  I erased the search history, shut off the computer, and tiptoed toward my bedroom. “You’re up late.” Dad’s voice made me jump. I turned to face him. Didn’t he know that it was cruel to startle someone in the dark? He squinted and pressed his lips together. “And you look like you’ve been up to no good. Were you sneaking out?”

  Pointing to my doorknob, I said, “If I were, why would I be going to my room dressed in pajamas?” I opened the door and slunk into my room. He crossed his arms over his chest. My dad hated when I responded to his questions with indirect answers, and I knew he wanted me to look him in the eye and tell the truth. “I wasn’t sneaking out, Brewer. I had research to do. You know, trying to be a good student and all.”

  Satisfied with what I said, he smiled and nodded. “Love you, ki
ddo.”

  “You too.” I started to shut my door, but the lack of television volume coming from the garage stopped me. “Hey, where’s Cam?”

  I already knew my brother was with her before my dad spoke, but hearing it aloud just intensified my fears. “Out with Lorelei.”

  ***

  Andy stuffed a ketchup-drenched fry into his mouth and pointed to his plate for the umpteenth time. For the umpteenth time, I shook my head in protest. His ploy to force fries on me was getting old pretty fast. He sat across the table from me at Sunshine Café, a dive on the waterfront, with a smorgasbord of food. My side of the table looked stark in comparison. “You on a diet?”

  I ran my fingers around the rim of my transparent plastic cup. “No, just not hungry.”

  “Are you sick?”

  I hadn’t slept. I’d given myself a pep-talk last night about trying like hell to ignore the weirdness around me. It wasn’t enough to stop my fretting. No normal person could fall fast asleep after finding the obituaries of people they’d dreamed about, and even I wasn’t the exception to normal. Still, Sleeplessness was becoming a habit that made me a fragile, greasy looking thing. My gray eyes were too big for my face, like the glassy ones on those creepy dolls.

  Our waitress bounced to the table. Nicola went to school with us, but whenever she saw me, she pretended like we’d never met. Freshman and sophomore year, though, we were on the same volleyball team.

  Freshman and sophomore year, we were friends.

  “Need anything else, Andrew?” she asked in a breathless whisper. I wanted to tell her that he hated being called by his full name, but his ridiculous grin would make it a moot point. Andy was putty around pretty girls.

  I cleared my throat and slipped my drink across the table. “More water, please?” She plunked the cup on her tray then simpered at him. I rolled my eyes. He kicked my shin.

  “What classes are you taking next year?”

  He shrugged and dabbed at his mouth with a thick napkin. I hadn’t warned him about the mustard smearing his cheek. Maybe he’d repulse her and she’d leave us alone for the next twenty minutes. “Not sure, but I’m thinking about doing half-a-days,” he said. Andy already had enough credits to graduate. I was envious that he would be able to legally skip out early once school began.

  She brought pink and black fingernails to her lips and giggled before heading toward the kitchen. Realizing that I was still at the table, he turned his grin on me. “What?”

  I balled up my straw paper, stretched it out, and then tied it into a knot. “You are a whore, Andrew.”

  He groaned and pushed away from his seat. “Going to the restroom, hopefully you won’t be so bitchy when I come back.”

  Nicola returned with my water. She didn’t say anything before moving on to other customers. Guess that came along with the stigma of having a dead mother everyone thought was a student-molesting pervert. I peeked over my shoulder to make sure nobody stared and dumped salt from the shaker into my drink. It made me feel better, like I was a screwy, human fish.

  Andy wriggled into his seat. “See, you’re smiling. Sometimes we have to separate to fall in love again.”

  I savored the last few drops before lowering the cup to the laminate tabletop. Licking my lips, I raked my hand through my hair and piled it on top of my head with the ponytail holder around my wrist. The hair tie didn't leave its usual bright indentation in my skin. “Speaking of the “L” word, when was the last time you called Sophie?”

  “Last night. She’s still bummed about not being able to find good parties, but after what happened with Kyle at The Li—” Andy shut his mouth. He had said enough.

  He’d run off to save her the night we went to The Lighthouse, but I never questioned him about it. Now that I knew Kyle was involved, fear sliced through me. “What did he do to her?”

  He stared bug-eyed at me over his gigantic sandwich. “Nothing. I mean, not exactly . . .” I knocked the burger from his hand into the plate. It splattered, a mess of meat, pickles and ketchup. “He tried to have sex with her.”

  “She didn’t, right?”

  “No.”

  But Kyle had put his lying, greedy hands on my best friend. That disgusted me. I wanted to hurt Kyle. Lure him. I squeezed my fingers around the napkin dispenser and waited for Andy to speak. And I plotted.

  “Nothing happened,” Andy repeated.

  Warped ideas played through my mind, a dark vortex of violent images. I saw Kyle sloshing through shallow water in the direction of my voice and a moment later, I witnessed him lying on the rocks, debris and weeds covering his puffy face. I shuddered and stumbled from my seat. “I’m going to wait in your car.”

  After a few minutes, Andy joined me, and even though he tried to hide his concern, the break in his voice told me he was worried. “You okay, Char?”

  I thought I could avoid seeing Lorelei. Now I knew it was impossible. I could hide the heartbeat and even make up an excuse for the nightmares, but I couldn’t take the images racing through my brain. My thoughts constantly went dark whenever Kyle was mentioned, yet today, I was terrified of myself. She had to know what was going on with me. Why else would she have given me salt water when I freaked out? “I’m fine, but can you take me somewhere?”

  The drive to The Lighthouse was silent. Andy occasionally tried to make disjointed small talk. I couldn’t concentrate on anything he said—visions of Kyle’s watery sentence were more brilliant than before. I pictured him struggling for air and turning various shades of blue as I held him down.

  My head was detaching from my body, I was sure of it.

  A rental car was parked by Lorelei’s sports car. It was fancy, the kind car rental agencies didn’t lease out to people without platinum credit cards. Andy eyeballed the Mercedes and whistled. “S-Class Roadster. If I admit I’m turned on, will you hold it against me?”

  “Um, yes. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Wait here,” I warned.

  The door to the cottage was cracked, so I lingered out front, tuning in on the conversation inside. Lorelei’s guest was female. And incredibly pissed, if her raised voice was any indication. “Demeter’s not happy with you. From what I hear, she’s put out all sorts of hits on us,” she snapped.

  Something shattered. “Don’t break my things, Thel. You’re such a child at times.” Lorelei said. A chair scraped across the hard floor. “Besides, someone who wants us dead will never truly be hap—”

  “Cut the shit, Aglaope, we both know your actions provoked her. You’ve gone years without Demeter’s hunter bothering you and then you decide to do the one thing that pisses her off the most: you make another siren. Why would you do that?” the woman shrieked. She growled something else and then added in a calm, soft voice, “If you wanted a companion, you could have lived with me.”

  They were silent for almost a minute, then Lorelei said, “I didn’t do it for companionship.”

  “Love? Compassion?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Zeus’s beard, you’re pathetic, Ag. You’ll do anything for silly emotions. If I rescued every drowning twit I came across, we could have an entire cursed immortal army. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  Who the hell was Ag? I couldn’t help thinking Cam was being duped big time by Lorelei’s pretty face, big boobs, and mad piano skills. What if she was an assassin . . . or a spy?

  Sure, because assassins are hired to off ex high school basketball stars who still live with their dad.

  “The years have made you bitter. It’s a shame, you were such a sweet child,” Lorelei said. “You can come in now, Charlotte.”

  My heart stopped mid-beat. Oh god, she knew I was eavesdropping. My eyes darted from Andy’s car back to the door, and I wondered if I could make a quick getaway. Leaving would be pointless because she already knew I was there. I tiptoed inside. A spacious, open room furnished in various shades of yellow greeted me. Thick carpets in dark gold were placed strategically throughout the area with lush couches and chairs sc
attered about. Sculptures and paintings were propped against the walls.

  It didn’t look like a dump anymore. Hell, it didn’t look like any cottage I’d ever seen.

  Lorelei slouched on one of the couches, frowning, and the person she argued with sat in the armchair with her back to me “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you,” I blurted out, losing my confidence. I planned to confront her and demand answers. Now I was freaking out, sure I intruded on something I shouldn’t know about.

  The other person stood and turned to me. I instantly recognized the dark hair, the oval-shaped face. Icy blue eyes, the same that graced the cover of magazines and entertainment channels, raked over me.

  Holy crap, Lorelei knew Francesca Lauren.

  “You’re not at all what I expected,” she mused, circling me. Her voice was singsong, similar to Lorelei’s, but mocking. She wasn’t what I expected, either. She didn’t sound ditzy, like in her interviews. Her fingers sifted through a strand of my hair. I jerked back.

  “Stop it!” Lorelei shouted. Her warm green eyes warred against Francesca’s narrowed blue ones. I stared helplessly between them.

  Lorelei must have won because Francesca pouted then danced to her seat where she slithered down. “You’re no fun, Ag.” Who was Ag? And why was Francesca—crappy actress and maninizer—in Gloucester? With my brother’s potential girlfriend.

  “You’re being difficult.” Lorelei ran her fingers down the front of her chiffon blouse. She motioned for me to take a seat on one of the elaborate, jacquard print chairs, and I complied, though I should have run away screaming about their odd conspiracy. “You want answers,” she said.

  “Of course she does. People tend to gravitate away from you otherwise,” Francesca teased.

  “Shut your filthy mouth!” The steel in Lorelei’s tone carried to her eyes, and they appeared toxic. She wrapped her fingers around the sculpture on her coffee table. I was sure she was about to beat the hell out of Francesca.

  The actress stood, sauntered over to Lorelei, and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “I say these things because I love you. It breaks my heart to see you hurting. Call you when I reach California,” she said. Francesca glided toward the door, carefully sidestepping fragments of a broken vase.