Siren Song

by A

  outside the courtroom. They were just sitting, staring in at us . . . like tiny, white-winged

  vultures.

  Finally the bailiff announced Jacobson‘s return and we all stood.

  She sat, we sat, and I waited, the bats in my stomach rising anew.

  ―The Defendant will rise.‖ Roberto nudged me and I stood as ordered. I did my best to hide

  my fangs under my lips and gave the judge my full attention, even though I was shaking more

  than a little. Please don’t send me away. Would tears help or hurt? It hardly mattered, because

  I was already crying.

  ―Ms. Graves. Your attorney gave a masterful performance here, clearly intending to sway

  me into allowing a known vampire, an admitted psychic manipulator, to go back into open

  society.‖ I was clutching the table so hard I was pretty sure my nails would leave marks. The

  baby food was inching its way back up my throat and the birds began to take flight, hovering

  outside the courtroom.

  ―And he managed it.‖ I let out a breath I hadn‘t realized I was holding. I felt my body

  partially collapse against the table. ―While I‘m still concerned about your . . . abilities, there‘s

  a sizable portion of the human population you cannot affect. You‘re not fully vampire, or

  human, or siren. Yet you currently have command enough of your body and mind to appear

  here, in full daylight, and at least look repentant. To commit you against your will would be the

  equivalent of locking up a clairvoyant who chose to reveal the future to people, or a mage who

  performs magic for pay.

  ―As much as I may loathe the result, your ability is biological and you quite literally‖—she

  motioned toward the birds thumping against the bulletproof glass—―can‘t help it. I find it

  rather disturbing just how very distasteful I find you, even though you‘ve done nothing to

  deserve that reaction while in my court. Therefore, I have no choice but to believe that I‘m

  biologically prejudiced against you, and will rule based only on the written record and

  testimony given today. I will recuse myself from any further proceedings involving you.‖

  She paused for a long moment, anger etching deep lines in her face. ―However, know that

  this court will be watching you carefully. If you start to run amok or appear to be a threat to the

  general population, I promise you that you will be put away without a second thought. Is that

  clear?‖

  I nodded, feeling suddenly light-headed. ―Crystal.‖

  And just that quick, the whole thing was over. On to the next case. A witch, I think. I didn‘t

  stick around long enough to find out. I wanted out of there, and the sooner the better. I wanted

  to find some fresh sea air and an empty beach so that I could calm my frazzled nerves.

  Unfortunately, there was a wide band of unhappy uniformed cops between me and the exit.

  ―Excuse us, Officers.‖ Roberto moved ahead of me, using his body as a shield between me

  and the angry men. He looked up at the lead officer, meeting his gaze without flinching.

  The cop was a big man, six three or four, with the kind of build that you can only get with

  the benefit of serious weight lifting. He stood there, a solid wall of silent, blue-clad muscle. It

  was his partner, a smaller, blond man with harsh features and icy blue eyes, who spoke,

  addressing his words to me rather than Roberto.

  ―Graves, don‘t think you got away with anything. It isn‘t over. We‘ll be watching you.

  You‘ll screw up eventually. When you do, we‘ll have you.‖

  Roberto‘s smile was as warm and friendly as a hungry shark. ―I must have misunderstood

  you, Officer‖—he glanced at the man‘s name pin—―Clarke. What you just said sounded

  suspiciously like a threat. You wouldn‘t be planning to harass my client, would you?‖

  The crowded courtroom fell so silent you could hear Clarke‘s harsh breathing. He said

  nothing, but his expression was answer enough. He looked murderous, his jaw clenched so

  tight I could hear his teeth grinding.

  Roberto continued, ―Understand, Officer, if you and your men harass my client, we will

  have you up on charges.‖

  No one answered. There was another long, tense moment of silence. A standoff. Neither side

  willing to back down. It was the judge who broke the stalemate. With a gesture, she stopped

  the witch hearing and signaled for the bailiff, who headed in our direction. As if that were a

  signal, the cops turned as a unit and filed out of the room. As the last man passed through the

  door, the courtroom erupted into noise and chaos.

  ―Sorry about that,‖ Roberto said softly enough that only the bailiff and I could hear.

  ―Not your fault.‖ I forced myself to give him a smile. ―Nothing we can do about it, either.‖

  ―We can if they harass you.‖

  I sighed. ―Only if we can prove it. And honestly, how far do you really think we‘d get?‖ I

  felt and sounded tired and more than a little bit bitter. Roberto might have kept me out of

  captivity—for now—but there was no way I was out of danger.

  The bailiff had moved off and the judge was pounding her gavel. Time for me to get out of

  here.

  ―I have another case,‖ Roberto said. He reached his hand out for me to shake. I shook it, told

  him ―thanks‖ one more time. ―If you need me, you‘ve got my number.‖ He walked away

  briskly, heading for his next client. I hurried into the hallway myself, hoping to join my friends

  and family.

  I am a big, bad-assed bodyguard, with vampire fangs and siren abilities. Is it wussy of me to

  admit that I wanted to be held? Because I did. I wanted Bruno, needed to feel his arms around

  me, to hear him to say it was going to be all right. I knew, logically, that everything had

  changed, that I could never get my old life back. But I wanted it just the same.

  The door was still swinging shut behind me when my gran pulled me close, hugging me as

  tight as she could. ―Oh, Celie, thank God! When I saw it was a woman judge I was so scared!

  But my prayers were answered. It turned out all right.‖ She squeezed me tight enough to cut

  off my breath. For such a tiny woman, she‘s strong, in every way. My eyes stung, but I

  promised myself I wouldn‘t cry. I held her close.

  ―They caught the shooter from the Will reading,‖ Gran said.

  My eyes widened. ―No! Who was it?‖

  ―They don‘t know yet, but he‘s in custody and they‘re bringing in mages to interrogate

  him.‖

  It was great news. Warren and Emma both hugged me, then Warren excused himself

  explaining that he‘d promised to let Kevin know how things turned out. Since no cell phone

  use was allowed in the courthouse, Warren wanted to immediately head outside and call his

  son.

  It would have been nice if Kevin had come to the hearing, but I understood why he couldn‘t.

  I half-listened as Em and Gran started talking about taking me to dinner. I was looking for

  Bruno. He was here. I knew it—I could sense his magic. It slid over my skin like liquid silk,

  making all the little hairs stand up.

  But where was he? Turning slowly, I began searching in earnest, finally finding him

  standing next to his brother Matteo, the priest. I smiled at them and started to hurry over, my

  steps faltering when I saw the expressions on their faces.

  Matty came forward first. He pulle
d me into a fierce hug. I barely had time to hear his

  whispered, ―I‘m sorry, Celia. I really am,‖ before he let me go and strode toward the exit at a

  speed that was just short of a run.

  ―Matty?‖ I looked after him for an instant, then turned to Bruno, who had sat down on a

  bench in a shadowed alcove not too far away. He didn‘t look up, just sat there, head in his

  hands. ―Bruno . . . what‘s wrong? We won.‖

  I stopped about eighteen inches away, afraid to come closer. Why didn‘t he say anything?

  Why wasn‘t he looking at me?

  He looked up just then and my heart fell to my feet. His expression was so lost, pain etched

  deep in his features.

  ―What‘s wrong?‖ I came closer but didn‘t touch him, knowing somehow that I shouldn‘t.

  There were voices behind me. The others were coming. I could hear them.

  Bruno gently took my hand and led me into a small meeting room usually used by attorneys

  to meet with their clients. He pulled a ceramic disk the size of a quarter out of a pant pocket.

  Setting it on the floor at the doorway, he muttered a soft incantation under his breath. A wave

  of blue-white light spread out in a perfect circle with us at the center. I could feel the power of

  it like pressure in the air and I found myself working my jaw, trying to get my ears to pop. All

  of the ambient noise in the hall was just gone, as if I‘d stepped into a soundproof booth.

  Maybe I had.

  ―Bruno?‖

  He still wouldn‘t meet my eyes. Instead he sank into a chair and gestured for me to sit

  opposite from him.

  My throat was tight. I barely dared to breathe. I sat.

  ―I love you, Celie. I always have. I always will.‖ His voice cracked. Tears filled my eyes

  and the world grew blurry.

  ―You‘re everything to me. You always have been . . . since the day we met.‖ He meant it. I

  could feel the intensity of it.

  He looked at me then. There were tears rolling down his cheeks. Big, tough Jersey Italians

  aren‘t supposed to cry, but he was crying and his voice was a hoarse croak.

  ―I went back to Jersey, to tell Irene it was over, that I was taking a new job and moving to

  L.A. to be with you.‖

  I couldn‘t speak. I hadn‘t known there was someone else, that he‘d had to make a choice

  between me and anyone. My chest was heaving as if I couldn‘t get enough air, my heart

  pounding as though it would explode. No. Not explode. Break. My heart was breaking. He‘d

  never mentioned another woman. You‘d think she would have come up in conversation.

  ―She‘s pregnant.‖

  I didn‘t hear much after that. He kept talking, explaining. He loved me. But he‘d grown up

  without a dad. He couldn‘t do that to a child of his. He had to be there. And it wasn‘t fair to her

  to have to raise a kid alone. From the first sentence, it was a foregone conclusion. It was over.

  He was leaving me. The reason why didn‘t really matter.

  I couldn‘t believe it. Couldn‘t bear it.

  We sat there, crying and not touching, for long minutes. Eventually he stood. ―I‘m sorry.

  The shield will stay in place as long as you want it to. You can leave whenever you‘re ready.‖

  His voice was hollow, as if crying had emptied him of everything. He walked away. I didn‘t

  watch him go. I was too angry, too hurt. I sat there alone for a long time and cried tears that

  were tinged red.

  I didn‘t want to face anyone. I wanted to be alone. But Gran was out there and Emma. They

  were probably worried. And hiding wouldn‘t change anything. He was gone. Again. It felt like

  my soul had been ripped from my body, but life went on. I needed to face that, sooner rather

  than later. But right now, oh, God, it hurt.

  I felt the magic of the shield disintegrate as I stepped across the barrier and found Emma

  standing outside the room, waiting.

  ―Your gran saw you go off with Bruno, so she figured it was okay to go tell your mom the

  good news. I ran into Bruno‘s brother outside. He told me what happened. So I came back to

  wait for you.‖

  She stared at me in silence for a long moment, taking in the pile of used tissues I was

  stuffing back in my purse. Though I‘d cried myself out, my nose wasn‘t chapped. Nor were my

  eyes red. Vampire metabolism strikes again. So other than the fact that most of my makeup

  was gone, I probably didn‘t look too bad. Emma asked, ―Are you all right?‖

  I gave her the look that question deserved, then shook my head with a shrug.

  ―All right. Stupid question.‖ She sat together on the same little bench Bruno had sat on just

  minutes earlier. ―Breaking up sucks, and I‘m sorry.‖ She took a deep breath. ―I know we‘ve

  never been as close as you were with Vicki and are with Dawna—‖

  I started to say something, but she cut me off with a gesture. ―It‘s all right, Celia. I‘m pretty

  sure it was the siren thing.‖

  ―Was?‖

  She rolled her eyes, knowing that I was trying to change the subject. I was. But I was also

  curious. So she indulged me and explained, ―I don‘t want kids. I had a voluntary tubal last

  week. No longer fertile. No more siren problem.‖

  ―Oh.‖ I wasn‘t sure what to say. ―Um . . . congratulations?‖ I wanted to ask why she hadn‘t

  told me, but the answers seemed obvious—I was stuck at Birchwoods, prepping for my

  hearing, and, oh yes, the ―siren problem.‖

  She gave a weak chuckle. ―Whatever. We can talk about everything over dinner. You‘ve

  been here quite a while and you‘ve got to eat something soon, before your hunger gets out of

  hand.‖

  I had never felt less hungry in my life. But wandering the streets filled with bloodlust wasn‘t

  appealing, either. The cops would be watching me. I absolutely believed that. I might feel like

  hell, but I was free. It would be a shame to get locked up again the same day.

  I stood. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I struggled to pull myself together. ―Right, food.

  Preferably something quick.‖

  ―New China‘s only a couple of blocks from here. They‘ve got a buffet. You can probably

  handle egg drop soup.‖

  ―Do they have a bar?‖ My voice sounded as lifeless as I felt. I‘m not a big fan of Chinese

  food, but I probably wouldn‘t taste it anyway.

  ―I think so.‖

  ―Good. I need a drink. Maybe several.‖

  ―Celia—‖ She started to say something but stopped, thinking better of it after seeing my

  expression. ―Never mind. Let‘s get some food before things get ugly.‖

  Talk about prophetic. Then again, she is a clairvoyant.

  10

  I was not myself. That‘s the only excuse I can give. I tried to be decent company and failed,

  miserably. Emma understood, trying valiantly to carry the conversational ball single-

  handedly—telling me about the job she‘d landed in New York with Seacrest Artifacts. I tried

  to listen, but Emma‘s voice was just white noise in the background. It was as if there was a

  vast distance between me and the real world. So while I heard her talking about how her father

  didn‘t approve, that he thought she should finish her degree, I didn‘t really take it in. I drank

  my drink and listened to her rattling on and tried to make interested noises at the right

  intervals.

  She told that it was a great jo
b, working as personal assistant to Irene Seacrest herself. The

  last person had walked out, so Irene needed Emma to start as soon as possible. She‘d be flying

  out first-class day after tomorrow and staying in one of the corporate-owned apartments until

  she could find a place of her own. She was really excited. When she paused for a breath, I

  manage to ask how she‘d found the job.

  Bruno had recommended her for it. And while she didn‘t say it, Emma‘s sudden horror and

  rapid retreat to the bathroom let me put two and two together. Irene. He‘d said her name was

  Irene. Emma was going to be working with Bruno‘s baby momma.

  I sat at the table, numb. I didn‘t know what to think. I‘d built a perfectly good life after

  Bruno and I broke up the first time. I could do it again. Of course I could. But right now, at this

  moment, I felt as if something essential had broken inside me.

  I took another long swig of the salty-sweet frozen concoction in my glass, emptying it. I

  refilled the glass from the pitcher on the table. Now that was empty, too. Had we been here

  that long? A glance at my wrist made me do a double take. Not even an hour? Was that right?

  I‘d get past Bruno‘s loss. I knew I would. Why did it hurt so much? He‘d only been back in

  my life for a few weeks. Logically, it shouldn‘t hurt this much. Of course emotions aren‘t

  logical. Still, I didn‘t have a choice. He was gone. I had to move on. The only way to do that

  was to keep moving. Winston Churchill had said it best, I suppose: ―If you are going through

  hell, keep going. ‖ I took a deep, steadying breath, letting it out slowly. I could do this. I would

  do this. Reaching beneath the table, I retrieved my purse from the floor.

  Judging from her red-eyed, flying exit, Emma was likely to be gone awhile. If I didn‘t

  distract myself, I‘d think. Thinking would lead to feeling. Feeling was a bad idea right now. So

  I dug through the used tissues and detritus in my purse until I laid my hands on my cell phone.

  With the simple push of a couple buttons I was listening to my voice mails. There were a lot.

  The first was from Kevin, congratulating me on my win.

  The next message made me pick up my drink again and slug it down, then start looking for

  the waitstaff. It was Gran, telling me Mom was in jail again, picked up for driving without a