LURE

by Stephanie Jenkins

  She nodded and disappeared again. I held my hand out, letting the frigid rush flow against it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I gave myself almost an entire day to think about Mom’s plea before I confronted Lorelei. Because I was trying to learn control and stop being such a hot head. When I locked myself in my room, Dad seemed concerned. He must have thought I was still shaken by the car accident. In reality, it was the last thing on my mind.

  As I paced across the hardwood floor and chugged gallons of salt water to calm my nerves, I freaked out. If I couldn’t guide Mom—like the rest of the good souls—that meant Lorelei would have to.

  Was my mom’s soul really so dark and twisted that it wasn’t good enough for the vortex of swirling, bright lights? And if it was good enough, why would Lorelei make her suffer? Why make her linger?

  I convinced myself that waiting to see Lorelei would force some of my anger to evaporate, push it under the surface. Bottle it up. Instead, my frustration amplified with each passing hour. I was fuming by the time I stalked into her cottage to demand answers.

  She wasn’t inside the house. I found her standing on The Lighthouse tower, gazing out at the sea. “Char,” she whispered. She sounded defeated. And miserable. She didn’t even turn around—it was as if she expected me.

  “Help her.” I jabbed a shaky finger down at the waves rolling against the rocks. A storm was coming, and tonight the sea mirrored my violent mood. Lorelei’s spine was rigid. Her shoulders jerked up in an awkward angle. “Are you deaf? Help her.”

  She spun to look at me. The frown on her face was sympathetic, but I didn’t need her pity. I needed her to fix things. She held up her palms, preparing to give an explanation. I refused to listen.

  “Obviously, you know why I’m here. Is this some kind of messed up way for you to get closer to my family or do you hold some kind of grudge against her because she has a soul?”

  Her hand flew to her chest as if I held a lit match to her skin. She rubbed the spot over her heart and stared down at her frilly clothes. When she glanced at me again, the pity in her green eyes was gone. She looked lethal, despite her delicate appearance, and I reminded myself of how many people she killed over the years. She turned back to the ocean.

  “It’s not that simple,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Nothing ever was with her. “But you knew exactly why I came here, right? Even before I said anything. How?” I leaned against the railing and glared down at my tennis shoes. The wind swept wisps of Lorelei’s hair into my face.

  I slid away from her.

  “We’re connected. After all, you’re a siren because of me.”

  At the moment, the thought of being linked to her was the equivalent of being gouged in the eyeball. Gruesome and painful. “Well that’s great to know,” I snapped. Combing my hand through my hair, I pressed my ear in the direction of the waves, hoping to hear Mom again.

  No luck.

  Lorelei sighed then sidled closer. She reached out to stroke my back. “Your mother is in limbo right now, Charlotte.”

  What was that supposed to mean? I always thought of limbo as being a vacant, white space where semi-bad people floated around flailing their arms and legs. My mom couldn’t be that bad, yet she was stuck in watery hell.

  “Then get her out,” I said.

  Shaking her head, she squeezed her eyes shut and rested her elbows on the railing. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She hesitated. “Because Thelxiope is the only one with the authority to decide what happens to the undecided souls.”

  Francesca. Just thinking about Little Miss Hollywood made me ill. Why would anyone that self-centered and selfish be given the power to choose how worthy a person’s soul was? “Well then tell her to do it.”

  “She hasn’t—she won’t—do her job.”

  I recalled the conversation I eavesdropped on the afternoon I met Francesca—the same day I discovered I was immortal. “They’re there for a reason. They can wait a bit longer while I decide what to do with them,” she said.

  “How long has it been since she’s guided a soul?” I asked.

  Lorelei walked toward the door leading into the building. Her movements were slow and calculated. I knew I wouldn’t be happy with her answer. “We should go to the cottage and talk.”

  “How long?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, grimacing. “Not for the last seventy years.” I felt numb and confused, but I shuffled behind her down the narrow steps then outside toward the cottage.

  I refused to drink the water she gave me after I sank down on her couch. I didn’t want to clear my clouded mind. I needed to feel, no matter how upset I was.

  “Can’t you make her?”

  She sat on the floor, resting her back against an arm chair. She brought her knees to her chest, and I focused my gaze on the bare feet poking out from beneath her skirt. I knew exactly what her sigh meant. “No.”

  “Why won’t she do her job then?”

  “I don’t know, Charlotte. Fear. Laziness. I can’t tell you what inspires her anymore.”

  “So my mom is just stuck down there because some lazy, selfish monster is too scared to do anything about it?” I shook my head, shooting to my feet. I considered picking up the statuette—the ancient sculpture of the musical girl—Lorelei cherished and throwing it out the window. But Francesca broke things. I was nothing like her because I did my job. “Maybe Demeter will catch up with her.”

  Lorelei glared at me. “That’s not fair.”

  I snorted, whacking myself in the forehead. “Right, and it’s okay if she makes souls wait while she tries to make up her mind about what to do.”

  “Charlotte, if I could help your mother, I would. No amount of pleading with my sister will encourage her to respond any faster. I’ve tried. You have to understand that her life hasn’t been pleasant. Thel—Francesca has an unhealthy love-hate relationship with immortality.”

  I couldn’t imagine how Francesca’s life could suck. She was filthy rich and it was nearly impossible to kill her. On the other hand, up until Mom had called out to me, soul-guiding and immortality had just been inconvenient. Now it was unbearable.

  Easing down beside her, I crossed my legs in front of me. “How do I get rid of it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The day you told me I was a siren you started to mention how to become regular again. I need to know. Because after I free my mom, I want out.”

  She turned to me, and her eyes widened. Silence followed as she repeatedly raked her teeth over her upper lip. “It’s not so easy.”

  Ugh. Was she serious? I was getting so sick of constantly hearing her say that to me. It’s difficult. It’s very hard. I didn’t care how hard it was. Whatever it was, I was willing to try it. “Try me.”

  “True love.”

  “Huh?”

  “When Demeter changed us, she promised we could regain our souls and have normal lives. She swore it would be simple. The only thing we needed to do was find true love with a mortal man. For the first several years, it was impossible because we were banished to our island, Anthemoessa. Once I was free, I believed it would be take me a year, maybe two. I was hopeful, stupid, and I thought it would happen quickly.

  “As the centuries went by, I realized the difficulty. My relationships were always one-sided. Either the he’d be crazy about me or I would love him. By the time I met Friedrich in Germany, I’d almost given up. I waited and waited to feel a regular heartbeat—to be normal. Of course, you know how that ended.” Her smile was bittersweet, and she took a deep breath.

  Friedrich must be the hunter she fell for. “What happened to him?” My voice was barely more than a whisper, and I was terrified of how she’d respond.

  Her green eyes stormed over as she met my gaze. “I lured him and his crew. They all died by the rocks on the Rhine.”

  I shuddered. She spent so much time with my brother, and suddenly, her infatuation with him
made sense. Was she using him to become mortal? And if he hurt her, what would happen to him? Would I have to identify his body after Lorelei had a siren hissy fit?

  “Cam?”

  “I already love him, Charlotte. If he loves me, I’ll be very fortunate. If not, you don’t have to worry about me killing him.”

  I gulped at the bluntness of her words. “But you’re using him. You’re probably messing with his mind to get him to care about you.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. If I could just sing my way to love, I would have been mortal centuries ago. I would have had children. I would have died. Cam has to love me—something nobody else has ever done.” Her voice was muffled, but I understood every word.

  “Then why do you think he’ll want you?” I demanded.

  Her face crumpled. She pressed her forehead against her lap, and quiet gasping sounds escaped her throat.

  Suddenly, I felt wretched. Her story sounded like a violent, twisted version of a VH1 reality show—Siren of Love—but I guess she deserved to be happy. I wasn’t too sure if she would find what she was looking for with Cam, or how I would feel if she did. And I definitely didn’t want them together before Lorelei forced Francesca to make a decision about Mom. I would make sure Lorelei wasn’t happy until then.

  I debated on whether or not to strike a compromise with her. My desire to end my mom’s suffering won. “If you work on your sister, I’ll infiltrate Cam’s brain. It’s easy, trust me,” I said.

  She lifted her face in surprise and nodded. Once again, I cringed at the thought of her and Cam. She was so ancient that she belonged in a museum somewhere, not with my brother.

  “And I guess I’ll have to make someone love me.” Love scared me more than being a siren. More than siren hunters.

  Because I wasn’t convinced true love existed.

  ***

  Wyatt was avoiding me. The hospital released him two days after the accident—yesterday—but he hadn’t contacted me or answered my messages.

  He just wants to spend time with his family.

  I felt like I was lying to myself every time those words crept into my brain. Occasionally, I reassured myself out loud. The only thing that took my mind off him was Dad presenting me with an at home drug test he bought at the pharmacy. He claimed he only had my best interest at heart, which I was sure he did. Still, it sucked that he treated me like a druggie just because I was in a car accident.

  “I hate to do this, Char,” he said grimly as he opened the bathroom door and pointed inside.

  Yeah, whatever. I jerked the plastic cup from his outstretched hand and rolled my eyes. “This is stupid. You should just go ask Rob for the results from my mouth swab.” While I was in the bathroom, I listened to him rant about my inability to stay out of trouble. He brought up summer school and The Lighthouse. Hearing about my downfalls on a daily basis was irritating. Dad wasn’t standing at the door when I came into the hallway, and I found him in my room, looking under the mattress.

  Did he know that I would never hide anything there?

  Apparently he did, because he pried up a loose floorboard and looked in the place where I used to keep my diary when I was ten. “Just checking,” he said after he couldn’t find anything. He took the drug test from me, sat it on my dresser, and examined it. Gross. “Looks like you’re good.”

  “Told you.”

  Dad started to leave my room, hopefully to throw away the waste of 40 bucks, but he turned around and asked, “What happened to the Jeep, Char?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. Guess one of the drunkards got key happy at Romano’s.”

  I expected him to whine, but he laughed and shook his head. “You’re having a rough summer, huh?”

  I was a siren, the boy I wanted claimed he saw me on fire, and I was certain that Matt’s girlfriend was a psycho bitch. Rough didn’t even begin to describe my life. I had no way of changing two of my problems, but I confronted Matt about Eva at school later that morning.

  “I can’t see her doing that,” he said, twirling a pen between his fingers.

  “Well, can you ask her at least?”

  “You know I will, Goose.” He jotted something down on a piece of paper, folded it up, and slid it into his pocket. “Reminding myself,” he explained.

  Meaning, my issue was so insignificant that he needed a written reminder? Ugh, that isn’t fair. He’s trying to help and I’m being a jerk. Still, I only said another six other words to him for the remainder of class: Can I borrow a pen. Thanks.

  Sophie and Andy were waiting for me on the front swing when I got home. “For a crash victim, you’re hard to get hold of,” Andy said as I stomped up the three stairs leading to the porch.

  I glared at him. I didn’t think word of my accident would reach them so fast, but I guess I underestimated the Gloucester gossip. Even though my friends were my rock, I wanted to be alone to process the events of the weekend. I needed to be alone. “Haven’t felt like talking.”

  Sophie flicked her cigarette into the bushes in front of the house. I pressed my lips into a tight line to avoid telling her to go pick the thing up. “It sucks hearing that your best friend was in a car accident from one of the guys on the rescue crew. By the way, he totally claimed you were on life support.”

  I stopped wiggling my key inside the lock and looked over my shoulder. “Oh my god, seriously?” She shook her head slowly, and I could have sworn her eyes were shimmery. They’d both probably worried like crazy about me. I wasn’t sure if I deserved it, especially since I hadn’t called to let them know I was okay. “I’m so, so sorry, guys.”

  “We believed it for about five seconds and then we called Cam. I’m pretty sure he was wasted, but he said you were okay,” Andy said.

  “How’s your boyfriend?” Sophie sounded concerned. They followed me into the house. I threw my bag to the floor and shook my head at her.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “We saw him earlier.”

  I pretended not to be interested in Andy’s words as I slid my shoes off and climbed onto the couch. I pushed my feet under a throw pillow. “Did you?”

  Sophie nodded. She took her usual seat at the piano. Her eyes flitted to him, and she squeezed her face into a warning scowl. She giggled uneasily. “He was eating lunch with his family.”

  “Right. Spit it out. You guys suck at hiding stuff just as much as I fail at lying; there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Andy shrugged. He plucked two of the stuffed bears—gifts Cam and I gave Mom on various holidays—from the top of the piano. He was silent as he forced the bears to make-out. Finally, he sighed.

  “Kyle and his dad were with them.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When I failed to hear from Wyatt the first couple of days, I called him every five hours. Slightly obsessive, but I needed to talk to him. I pictured him, listening to my voicemails and calling me tragic and desperate. You know, if he listened. I quit trying after Wednesday night.

  I busied myself with school and work in a weak attempt to coax my thoughts away from him. As soon as I stepped through the doors of Romano’s on Saturday night, Rob whined. He complained because I was running twenty minutes behind and let me know how selfish I was for showing up late. “Time is money,” he said. Then he pointed out that Sophie arrived fifteen minutes early. Because she was a model employee. A week ago, he’d have choked on his words if he witnessed her Sunshine Café episode.

  Remember school clothes. Remember the fine you’ll have after court. My financial situation was enough to keep me from quitting. Lorelei should pay for everything. She sung the stupid song that stuck me with the ticket to begin with, and since she was the owner of The Lighthouse, it technically wasn’t trespassing.

  Nevertheless, Lorelei’s song was the reason why I knew my mother’s fate, so I owed her.

  I hid out in the storeroom, leafing through one of Kim’s trashy tabloids. Francesca’s frosty blue eyes glared at me from the cover, teasi
ng me as I stared at her slumped against an actor. The headline said Teen Starlet Smashed Again!

  I read about immortals partying hard in one of the books from the library, but Lorelei assured me that sirens are the exception. We only existed on salt water.

  I considered ripping the magazine into hundreds of shreds, burning them and stuffing the remains in the garbage disposal, but it would not solve my problems. Confronting Francesca and forcing her to guide my mom’s soul would. The door creaked open. I tossed the book to the floor and slid it beneath a shelf with my foot. I couldn't handle Rob’s ranting. Not tonight.

  Sophie shuffled in front of me, eyes downcast. “You’re not still mad at me are you?” she asked.

  I opened an oversized box of sugar packets and jammed a handful into my apron packet. “No.” My voice sounded anything but friendly. Her lips twitched into a nervous frown.

  I hurt her feelings.

  The last thing I wanted was for her to start avoiding my calls, too. I could barely take the silent treatment from Golden Boy. “Okay, I am still a little angry. Happy?”

  “Sorry I acted like an idiot in front of your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my bo—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. The point is, I’m sorry. I was having a rough time,” she said. She hung her head, a mass of curly ringlets shrouding her face. “Things didn’t go so well with Jason.”

  Ugh . . . Jason. When I snorted, her head jerked up, and she looked utterly confused. Sophie was so used to me saying nothing when she attempted to offer an excuse for her random hookups. “You don’t get it, do you?” Did she see what everyone around her noticed? The boys she picked only used her.

  Did she see the way Andy looked at her?

  “Huh?”

  “Guess you don't.” Rolling my eyes, I pushed past her. “Andy’s crazy about you. And he’s a good guy, don’t you see that?” I twisted back around to face her. Slowly, her blue eyes enlarged as she registered my words. Andy might be upset with me for telling her, but she was my friend—the best one I had. “I got to get back to work . . . just think about what I said.”