LURE

by Stephanie Jenkins

  “Good luck, Charlotte. Don’t put your heart into this world—just makes it worse.” Francesca granted Lorelei one last contemptible look before leaving. I jumped at the squeal of tires.

  “You have no heart, Thel,” Lorelei whispered.

  I was half-aware of Lorelei handing me a mug. “What’s going on?” I wheezed. The salt water immediately took the edge away. “What’s happening to me?” My voice was stronger this time.

  “Tell your friend he can leave. This might take some time.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Andy left without an argument, but I knew that I’d have a million messages waiting in my voicemail by this evening. He was all smiles and wide-eyed as he drove away. Guess I wasn’t the only one who’d recognized Francesca.

  There was a part of me that anticipated hearing what Lorelei had to say, but mostly I dreaded it. Maybe it was the way her shoulders had slumped when she told me to ask Andy to leave or how she looked at my feet instead of my face when I walked back into the cottage. I only knew there was a 95% chance that her explanation about what was wrong with me would be morbid.

  “Ask me anything,” she said when I sat down on the couch. She stood at the fireplace, with her back turned to me.

  “How do you know Francesca?” It wasn’t the question burning a hole in my skull, but it was a start.

  She pranced over to the couch and eased down beside me. “She’s my sister,” she answered nonchalantly, arranging the chipped sculpture on the coffee table. The statuette, a girl strumming a large instrument that resembled a guitar, appeared antique. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

  No wonder Dad twitched when I answered him with one or two words and a shrug. Evasive people were totally frustrating. “I don’t care about your stupid art! What’s the matter with me and what does it have to do with you? And Francesca?” Narrowing my eyes, I added, “And what were you talking about before you invited me in?”

  “I’ve upset one of the gods,” she explained. “And Francesca was angry with you because of what I did.”

  Whoa! Lorelei and I had known each other for a short period of time and she was already talking religion. I almost joked that it wasn’t a good idea to bring it up for a few more months, but her usual smile had disappeared, replaced by a thin frown. “What do you mean gods?” Was she in some sort of cult? Was she trying to drag Cam into whatever mess she was in, too? “Lorelei, what’s going on?”

  “You’re not dead!” she blurted. I’d never even assumed that, but I swallowed hard, waiting for her to start talking again. “At least not completely. You’re a siren, like me and my sister.”

  “A what?”

  She jumped to her feet and picked up one of the paintings propped against the wall then handed it to me. The piece was old and fragile and probably belonged in a museum in France instead of a cottage in Massachusetts, but that wasn’t what bothered me. It was the face that kicked me in the gut. The girl in the picture plaited her hair and grinned flirtatiously at the man who gripped the ocean rocks she rested on. The girl was Lorelei.

  I pushed it back at her. “You are freaking insane.” My brother really knew how to pick them! He’d attracted a lunatic, a girl convinced she was a mythological creature. She grasped my upper arm to keep me from racing to the door. “Let go or I’ll punch you.”

  “I saved you! You drowned, but I had to give you a second chance.”

  I closed my eyes, then, and I was back underwater. I remembered the darkness and the pressure, the confusion after I found myself alive on the rocks. Sucking in a deep breath, I sat back down and gripped one of the throw pillows to my chest. My heart pounded slow and steady beneath my thin cotton blouse.

  “Our hearts are the same, Charlotte. Seven beats.”

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  Sirens did not exist. They were like mermaids, Santa Clause, and leprechauns—fun to read about and laugh at in corny movies but completely unreal. Lorelei ground her teeth. An annoying sound that grated the top of my skull. “It’s my job to lead the souls of the dead, but I couldn’t do that to you because you weren’t gone yet.”

  “Souls of the dead at sea call out to me, Charlotte. As the body dies, the soul pleads for help. Some refuse to accept their fate even as they travel into the afterlife. You were different. Your soul was accepting, calm about death. And . . .”

  “What?”

  Her forehead crinkled, like she needed to think about what cracked thing to say next. “You were drawn to my voice. The Lure only affects men, and I wasn’t singing one. I can control what I do, always have, so nobody should have heard me. My kiss saved you, but at a price . . . Now you’re like me.”

  Kissed me? How messed up was that? “My best friend would’ve paid to see that.”

  She started to hum, and I knew she told the truth. I buried my face in my hands, listening to the singing nobody else heard and silently hating her. I should have been happy I wasn't a nutcase, but I was scared out of my mind. “This is another dream.”

  She touched my knee. I slapped her hand away. “I’m afraid it isn’t. None of it is.” She took a deep breath before her next comment. “The salt water keeps you strong, but you don’t need it. We don’t eat, or age, or die, except at the hands of an immortal force.”

  “Immortal?” I asked. Slowly, she bobbed her head. “Why should I believe you?”

  She pointed toward the window in the direction of The Lighthouse. “I could knock you off the tower.”

  “Didn’t you just say that an immortal force can kill me? Wouldn’t I just die?” The sarcasm in my voice was nastier than I intended, but what did she expect? She’d just told me she’d made me an immortal.

  “I meant the gods themselves or an object or person blessed by them.”

  I snorted, and her scowl deepened. “This goes against everything I’ve ever known,” I hissed. She was next to me before I knew what was happening, pressing my hand to her chest. I counted and hoped to feel a normal rhythm. Our hearts were in sync, though. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven.

  “It‘s not forever,” she said. “You just have to fa—” Three heavy raps shook her front door.

  “We’ll finish talking later. It‘s Cammy,” she said. Smoothing a hand over her hair, she sang, “Come in.”

  I had no idea how she knew it was Cam; she never even moved to look outside. He stepped in carrying a massive bouquet of roses and baby’s breath. She met him halfway, cooing and giggling over the roses, like one of the girls at school on Valentine’s Day. My brother noticed me after I started choking from the overdose of PDA. He hid his tomato red face behind the flowers. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Boy advice,” I lied.

  He’d driven my Jeep (big surprise) so I waited for him outside. I needed the few minutes alone to slowly begin digesting everything she told me. On the way home, Cam bugged me about her. He wanted to know if she helped with my guy issue, automatically assuming Wyatt was the problem. I didn’t bother to correct him.

  When he came right out and demanded to know if Lorelei mentioned him, I wanted to warn him to stay away from her. Tell him she was a crazy witch and that he needed to file a restraining order ASAP. The pesky voice in my head cautioned me not to.

  She said we were the same.

  I spent the afternoon and most of the evening locked away in Mom’s old office with my face glued to the computer screen. Researching the myth was difficult because I found little information. Each Google search gave me the same result:

  Sirens lured men to their watery graves.

  My findings sent a wave of dread though me. I sank my teeth deep into my lip, gripped the edge of the desk—anything to keep images of Lorelei killing my brother out of my head. I had to talk to her again. I needed to find out what her plans for Cam were.

  Cam’s cell phone was in its usual spot—inside of the little wicker basket on the counter. Lorelei’s number was at the top of his recently called list.
I programmed it into my phone. Slinking to my bedroom, I dialed her number. I felt like part protector, part hypocrite, and part sleaze while I waited for her to pick up.

  “Hello?”

  She sounded sweet and cheerful. But I knew better. The manipulative voice on the other end wasn’t even human. “It’s Charlotte,” I said.

  She took a few gulps of what I guessed was salt water. I nearly told her that regular, mortal people didn’t drink like that over the phone because it was rude. “I thought you’d need more time to thi—”

  “No. I don’t,” I hissed. “What do you want from me and my brother?”

  She exhaled again. Impatiently, I yanked the phone from my ear so I wouldn’t have to endure the sound of her chugging. After a few seconds, I listened in. “You don’t understand,” she said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Don’t believe everything you read about us, Charlotte. Just because I’m a siren doesn’t mean I plan on hurting Cammy or any other man, for that matter.”

  And she expected me to buy that? Girls had always been crazy about Cam, but Lorelei was a supermodel. Cam was better off without her. “I don’t believe you.”

  She laughed. I swear I heard a snort, too. “Charlotte, if I wanted to harm your brother, I would have done so already. When we met, I saved him after he fell off a boat right in front of me. Do you know how easily I could have lured him while he was so vulnerable?”

  Hearing her say that was more frightening than what she revealed before. I grunted, unable to force my thoughts into words. “Think on it for a few days, and we’ll talk again when you aren’t so temperamental,” she implored. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  A faint click let me know she ended the call. As I fumed over Lorelei hanging up on me, I saw a vivid picture of my brother’s body washing up on the shore.

  Fish had tortured his carcass.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Got any books on mythology?”

  I wasn’t a fan of Gloucester Library and they weren’t exactly rushing to join the Official Charlotte Brewer Fan Club. Sophie and I were sort of banned five months ago, during midterms, for making too much noise while we studied. Yeah, I didn’t know a library could permanently bar someone either, but whatever. The desire to learn more about the creature I’d become was the only thing stopping me from slinking away.

  Besides, it had taken a lot of effort for me to stop being a chicken and leave the house.

  The librarian stretched his flabby neck up and squinted. “I didn’t understand a single word you just said.”

  Toying with the hem of my shirt, I cleared my throat and repeated, “I’m looking for books about mythology.”

  “What kind? You realize there’s more than one type, don’t you?”

  God, why doesn’t he just add “you stupid girl” to that like he really wants to? “Greek!” I snapped.

  He drummed his fingertips on a pile of blank library cards and darted his eyes to a row of computers. I waited for him to tell me to stop being lazy and look the books up myself. “Check this section,” he said, scribbling on a piece of torn paper.

  The books I needed were on the bottom three rows of the shelf. A thick layer of dust clung to the stack I carried with me to a table. “Don’t they clean?” I brushed the gray fuzz onto my jeans. Sliding into a chair, I opened the first book, a thin paperback with coffee stains covering the pages. Two tables away, a kid poked his tongue out at me. My inner child took over, and I twisted my face into a nasty scowl. He tugged on his mom’s arm. She glanced up, narrowed her eyes, and whispered something. I buried my nose in the book to ignore them.

  One book said sirens were simply beautiful women and another claimed they were birds with human heads. I seriously hoped that I wouldn’t sprout talons overnight. Lorelei sported Big Bird yellow 24/7, but her legs looked normal. At least, I thought they did. I wrote a reminder in my notepad to ask her about the bird bodies. The last thing I wanted was to morph into a giant vulture on the full moon.

  By the time I opened the fourth book—one telling about the monsters enticing men to their island, eating their flesh, then dancing on bleached bones—I felt dizzy. The Odyssey gave me some hope, at least. “Beeswax in the ears,” I whispered. Homer’s poem was fiction, but up until a few days ago, I thought sirens were, too.

  Somebody fell into the seat next to me. I jumped and dropped the book. “Studying already? “ Sophie swiped the first book from the edge of the table.

  I jerked the paperback from her hands and loaded it on top of the others. “Stalk much? What are you doing here?”

  She played with the strap on her bag. “I was bored and wanted to go bowling. Called your house, but Cam said he dropped you off here.” Her dark blue eyes dropped to the books I guarded. “Dude, don’t tell me you’re taking drama this year.”

  “They’re for English class.”

  “Whatever, drama geek, let’s go. If you beat me, I’ll buy you ice-cream.”

  The only thing I wanted to do was sit in the library and read about the screwed up fantasy I was now part of. But Sophie wasn’t high today. Her eyes twinkled when she talked about bowling, so I agreed to go and even sang whiny pop songs with her on the way.

  We used to bowl every weekend, back when our parents took turns dropping us off at the Mega Bowl in Eastern Point. Sophie met the Summer Boy who’d screwed her over at the bowling alley. After they broke up, parties at The Lighthouse became our new pastime.

  She plucked a shiny emerald ball off the rack. “My parents are making me get a job.”

  “Well, get one.”

  She hurled the ball down the lane, dancing when she managed a strike. “Think Rob will hire me?”

  I selected my own ball from the shelf, not caring that it was excessively big for my fingers. The prospect of working with Sophie tore me. I was scared to give her a recommendation because I didn’t want her to come to work high, but she was also my best friend. And that took precedence over my worries. I stepped past her and rolled the ball. Three pins toppled over. “A girl quit a couple weeks ago, so it’s worth a shot.”

  She hugged me. “I would totally marry you, Charlotte Brewer.” Then she glanced over my shoulder and her lips twitched. “On second thought, I’ll take him.”

  I looked to see who she was ogling. Matt waved at me and announced noisily, “You following me around, Goose?”

  Sophie, smiling like the Cheshire Cat, turned excited eyes on me. “Hot!” she mouthed. Matt grinned at her.

  “Haven’t seen you in a long time, Chase,” he said.

  “Oh, I’ve been around,” she croaked. She bobbed her head for a few moments, trying to come up with a smarter response. No wonder she couldn’t stop blushing—he really was hot.

  Thinking that made me feel dirty, especially after I saw Eva headed toward us, carrying a giant soda and nachos. Matt reintroduced us then asked if they could play. In true fangirl form that made me want to shake her, Sophie agreed.

  “So . . . did you just move here?” I asked Eva when Matt disappeared to the restroom. She stared at me sideways, and tossed her braid over her left shoulder.

  “Sort of.”

  A girl of limited words. Sweet. “How’d you meet Robbins?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound jealous or like a nosy freak.

  “Oh, I’ve known him forever.” She began gnawing on the tip of her straw. I was certain she had no interest in making friends other than him. Matt sat down with us, and her personality did a 180. She became talkative and flirtatious, offering him her drink and food. “It’s no trouble, you know that. I can go get you your own if you want!”

  I watched, awed and somewhat peeved, as she bounced away to the concession stand to buy him snacks. Eva treated Matt like the crowned prince of Gloucester. “God, where can I find one?” Sophie laughed, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to,” he said quietly.

  Sophie pinched my thigh under the table. It didn’t hurt, and I woul
dn’t have known what she did it if I wasn’t looking. I pinched her back. She winced. The game began once Eva gave Matt his offering of candy and food. Sophie bowled first and knocked down nine pins. She was a bowling prodigy, and I sucked. Horribly.

  Matt pulled a crushed pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook out a menthol stick. “Looked like you took the news about Sidney pretty hard. I was worried about you.”

  I was sure I heard Eva snivel.

  My skin felt tight and drawn as he lit his cigarette. Sophie sat backwards in her seat and jerked the pack from his grasp. “Thanks,” she said, taking a few. She nodded toward the ball rack. “I’m sure Charlotte doesn’t mind if you bowl for her. She hates bowling.”

  I shot her an evil look as he sauntered off with Eva following behind him to roll my turn. “What the hell?”

  “You didn’t tell me he was interested in you.” She exhaled a twisting cloud of smoke that made me feel as if my clothes were shrinking.

  Once the discomfort passed, I shook my head. “See his shadow? He’s definitely not into me. And even if he was, I wouldn’t do the shit she does.”

  “Whatever.”

  We spent the next couple hours bowling. Despite Eva’s obsessive, disturbing nature, I was genuinely disappointed to see Matt go. “Should see you in school soon,” he said in the parking lot.

  “Fun, I’ll try not to go into excitement-induced cartwheels.”

  The area around his dark eyes crinkled. “You’re funny.” Sophie stood by her car, tapping her foot impatiently. He lifted his chin and waved. “See you around, Chase!”

  “I’ll beat you then, too,” she yelled.

  He didn’t say goodbye, instead he leaned forward with his eyebrows scrunched together. Finally, he stepped away and whispered, “You remind me of the beach.” I stood perfectly still as he walked away. Every few seconds, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder.