by Maribel Fox
Without protest, I give the guy my form, glancing at Henri again.
“Where’s the restroom?” I ask.
The guy gives me another look. “No public restrooms here. There’s one at the park across the street,” he says, the suspicion in his eyes making me very glad he doesn’t know about my current status with the department.
The bathroom’s a bust, that’s not going to get me anywhere.
We need to regroup. At least now Henri knows where the stuff is. Maybe there’s a window that’ll give me better access.
“Mon ami, you’re going the wrong way,” Henri protests as I start moving toward the exit. What am I supposed to do, though? This was a dumb plan all along and now it’s failed. I need to come up with something better before crawling back to the bar with my tail between my legs.
The moment I’m outside, I stop.
Seamus and Callie are both on the sidewalk, talking in low, hushed tones.
“Guess they did not trust you to do this yourself after all, no?”
“Guess not.” Thanks for rubbing it in, asshole.
Cal looks worried, brows knitted together, shaking her head. What’s he trying to convince her of? She looks determined, though. That set in her jaw that always means trouble. Means nothing will stand in her way.
27
Callie
This is a crazy idea and I know it. Why I’m taking advice from some guy who claims to be an obscure type of leprechaun, I don’t know.
Probably because it seems like if I don’t do something, Miles is likely to get himself arrested. I’m not exactly thrilled with him right now, but that doesn’t mean I want him behind bars.
“I don’t even know how to do what you’re suggesting I do,” I mutter, arms folded. The wind’s whipping around me and above, the sky’s churning with dark clouds that threaten a thunderstorm at any minute.
“Ye know more than ye think. Trust yer gut.”
I snort. “Cause that’s done so well in the past.”
“Didja rush me all the way down here jus’ to argue about my methods?” Seamus asks, arching one ginger brow, his mouth stern, jaw set.
“No,” I grumble. I hate admitting it, but he’s got a point. Watching Miles leave with no thought for his own safety propelled me into action like nothing else. I hoped we’d get here fast enough to intercept Miles, but we got here just in time to see him walking through the doors from about a hundred meters away. Just close enough to watch in horror with my stomach twisting, sure he’s about to get himself moved back to the top of the suspects list for Trenton’s murder, and for what?
There’s nothing even all that critical in my research. Yeah, it would be nice to get it back, it would eliminate a few weeks or more of backtracking and repeating some steps, but it’s not worth this.
The risk doesn’t scale to the reward, so I have no idea what he’s thinking.
Maybe he’s not thinking. That’s no excuse to throw everything away.
“Okay, so what am I supposed to do?” I ask, blowing out a long sigh.
It’s for Miles, the big idiot.
“Sirens have powers o’ persuasion. Tap into those and ye should have ‘em eatin’ outta the palm o’ your hand.”
“Okay, but… Like… how?”
Seamus looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. I don’t appreciate it. It’s not like I’ve been willfully ignorant about this stuff. It was kept from me. Cut me some slack.
“You don’t know how to use yer powers at all?”
“Do you think I’d joke about it at a time like this? I just learned that I’m a… you know.”
“Aye, but ye never noticed strange happenin’s? Yer mood affecting people around you?”
I frown, looking down at the sidewalk, suddenly taken with the cracks in it.
“I… I don’t know. I guess I do have a certain knack for getting my way…”
“Aye. It’s not a knack. Focus yer—”
He goes quiet, and it takes me half a second to figure out why — the police station door opens, and out comes Miles, looking pissed off but no worse for wear.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, and a fat drop of rain falls on my shoulder. I don’t know if I’m more relieved or furious.
Seamus completely forgotten, I march over to Miles and shove him. “You big idiot. What were you thinking?”
“Callie,” Seamus mutters softly, grabbing my wrist before I can shove Miles again. “Best not to commit assault directly in front of the eyes of the law, yeah?” The rain’s falling faster, staining the sidewalk one fat splash at a time.
I know he doesn’t deserve it, but Seamus gets the glare with all my rage before I snatch my hand away from him.
“I’m going to get my shit back,” I mutter, yanking the station door open just as the sky splits apart, buckets of rain coming down.
Let it.
I don’t care anymore. Let it rain forever and wash it all away.
I’m sick of the lies. I’m sick of not knowing important things about myself. And I’m especially sick of people standing in the way of what could be the discovery of my lifetime.
A hundred lifetimes if what they’re saying about Atlantis is true.
I don’t know if I believe that, but I’m sure as hell not backing away until I know for sure.
The cop at the desk looks up from his computer the moment I approach the desk, his shoulders straight, eyes wide.
“What can I do to help you?” he asks, over-eager for a civil servant.
I haven’t thought through far enough to know how to answer. I’m supposed to use my ‘siren powers’ whatever that means.
Being a siren doesn’t mean I know how to lie, so I do the only thing I can: I tell the truth.
“You guys have some things of mine locked away and I’d like them back.” It’s such a simple thing to say out loud, but it still sounds absolutely ridiculous. I expect him to laugh me out of here. Maybe after calling in some friends to also laugh at me.
His head tilts sideways, lips turning into a frown. “That’s no good. You should have your things,” he says, more sympathetic than I expected.
“Uh… Yeah. I should. So… Do you think you could get them for me?”
“Sure. Where is it?”
“In… evidence,” I mutter, waiting for the shoe to drop.
The cop frowns, already standing, so ready to spring into action, but now his shoulders slump.
“You want me to release evidence?” he asks, sounding confused, but really not nearly as confused as he should. He’s frowning, brows pulled together as he glances back at the door behind him.
“It’s not important to the investigation… It’s research. He stole it from me.”
“He did?” the officer’s jaw drops, a gasp rushing past his lips. “Who?”
“The guy that was murdered. He stole my stuff from me and stashed it in his room before he died and now you have my stuff locked away.”
“Oh… That’s too bad,” he says, brows still tight together.
“So… Can you get it for me?” I ask, focusing on what I want, trying to tap into whatever latent ‘charm’ I might have. I lean forward across the counter, bat my eyelashes like a fool, and even jut my lower lip out in a pout that I’ve never attempted before.
Pouting’s not really my thing.
Whining, maybe. Pouting? That’s just avoiding dealing with the issue.
This time, I think it might get me somewhere. I steal a glance at the guy’s name tag before holding eye contact again.
“Please, Officer Peterson? It would really mean the world to me, and I’d be sure to name you in my acknowledgments when I publish this paper.”
“Acknowledgments?” he asks, sounding almost dazed.
I nod. I think I’m getting the hang of this. I didn’t even realize I was doing anything, but it’s obvious he’s affected by my presence, my aura, my whatever.
I should really figure that out. Later. Right now, I lean a little further ov
er the counter, batting my lashes again.
“That’s right. A big thanks, just for you.”
Officer Peterson’s face gets pink, and his eyes dart toward the door behind him.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with the investigation?” he asks, clearly swaying toward my side.
“Nope. Not at all.” Probably doesn’t hurt that I’m entirely sincere here. Trenton stole my research for Vanessa and the team, and I doubt any of them killed him without getting the goods first. As strange as it seems, I’m pretty sure Trenton’s death is unrelated to any of the shady shit he was doing. Weird luck of the draw, I guess.
“Wait here,” he says, swiping his badge before heading behind the security door.
Outside, the storm’s lightened a bit, still a steady downpour, but not the torrent of biblical proportions from a few minutes ago. The guys are nowhere to be seen, probably taking shelter or gone. I don’t think I would’ve heard Miles’ bike over the rain.
I’m annoyed that another opportunity for us to talk about stuff has come and gone, but I still don’t know what I even want to say to him. I’m so disappointed, so hurt, but also… not.
I am, and I don’t think it’s going anywhere anytime soon, but it’s also Miles.
Like it or not, I need Miles. He’s always been it for me. Always had that special place in my heart that no one else could touch. And after actually being together? I can’t imagine giving up on him again. Not for good.
We’re adults now. We don’t just storm off and never talk to each other again. We’re going to talk this out, I just wish I knew what I want to get out of the conversation when it happens.
“Miss…?” The officer returns from the belly of the station, now confused anew that he can’t remember my name — I never gave it to him. “I looked for the research you described, but this is all I found,” he says, still frowning. “You sure we have what you’re looking for?”
He hands me a little stack of papers, some scribbled notes, a blank map, nothing of real value, but definitely things from my research.
“I guess not,” I mutter, taking what he offers. “Thanks for your help.”
He blinks, sinking back into his chair, suddenly captivated by the computer screen like our interaction never happened.
Trenton definitely had my stuff. Henri saw it. There’s enough here to confirm it. So that means someone else got to the evidence before I did.
And I’ve got one guess who.
Vanessa always annoyed me as a boss, but now she’s legitimately pissing me off. There’s no scenario where I let her steal my thunder.
But if I’m going to beat her to figuring all this out, I’m going to need my partner back.
“Get whatcha need?” Seamus asks when I step outside. He’s practically molded to the trunk of a large sycamore, his shelter from the storm.
I wave the couple of papers and they flap pitifully in the wind.
“Not exactly. Someone beat me to it. There was nothing really critical in there anyway.”
Seamus nods, his eyes alight with something unspoken I don’t care to delve into. “Back to The Shamrock then, I ‘magine. Yer fella’s already on his way back.”
“He’s not my—” I sigh, shaking my head. What’s the point in arguing? As far as this guy is concerned, Miles is mine and vice versa. I don’t need to explain the intricacies of our relationship to every random person in Lupine Bay. “Why are we going back to The Shamrock?”
“To figure out what’s next,” he says like it’s obvious. “They’ve got no idea what they’re toyin’ with. Reckon Ava’ll wanna talk to them.”
I snort. “Good luck with that.”
“Tell her, not me.” Almost a plea. Ava’s young and idealistic. I don’t know how old Seamus is, but from what I’ve gathered, the answer is old. I wonder how often he finds himself frustrated with her wide-eyed optimism.
That leaves me with enough to think about the whole way back, enough to distract me from the fact that it’s not really raining on the way back, more of a muggy mist still clinging close to the ground. It hits home when I walk into The Shamrock mostly dry, and my eyes fall on Miles, still soaking wet despite the towel on the bar next to him. He picks it up, runs it through his hair, and doesn’t look any drier for his efforts.
“Make yerself comfortable,” Seamus says, patting my shoulder. “The Court’s gonna have a meeting.”
I don’t know what that means, but by his tone, I can gather I’m not invited. But also, I shouldn’t be going anywhere. I do so love having these restrictions put on me like I’m a child.
Still, I’m not going to push my luck. These people seem like good allies to have. I might not fully agree with their methods or ideas, but they haven’t screwed me over yet.
That’s a hell of a lot more than I can say for my boss.
…Ex-boss, I guess. At some point it’s going to really sink in that I’m unemployed, that my whole life is upside down from where it was a couple of months ago. Not right now, though. I can’t afford to let it sink in with everything else going on.
Miles is at the bar, and he spots me while I’m still trying to find a different place to plant myself. I clocked him the moment I walked in, but he’s been too busy drying off and talking to the empty space next to him — Henri, I realize after a split second. Now that he’s seen me, he lifts his chin, then waves me over, patting the stool next to him, an invitation I can’t exactly ignore.
Rue’s behind the bar, and she holds up a glass the moment I sit down. “The usual?”
“Just a pop, thanks.”
“You sure?” Miles asks, one brow arched.
“Yeah,” I answer, terser than I need to be. He flinches a little and I feel instantly guilty. “I’ve been drinking too much lately and it’s barely noon.”
He shrugs, turning back to his drink. He takes a deep breath, downs it all, then turns back to face me.
“There’s someone you should meet. Formally, I mean. And I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner, but I didn’t really know how to… It doesn’t matter. Give me your hand.”
He’s nervous, fingers raking through his shaggy hair before he reaches for my wrist. In his other hand, Miles has one of the shards, a fairly large piece of shimmering blue glass that seems to glow on its own. The moment he brings my fingertips to touch the stone, the man materializes.
The pirate.
“Callie, this is Henri…” Miles trails off, searching for more information, coming up short.
“Duchamp,” the ghost provides with and elaborate flourish like he’s bowing over my hand. “Enchante, it is a pleasure to finally meet you Callie.”
“Uh… You too,” I stutter, struggling with what to do with my hands since I can’t shake his and one has to be on the rock. “I don’t know what I’ll be able to do, but I’m going to try to help you,” I promise, studying the electric crackle of energy that makes up his shape. His surprisingly handsome shape. I never would’ve guessed that a guy made of light could be so cute, but there’s something rugged and dangerous about him. He seems like he might be a little crazy — who wouldn’t be after centuries alone as a ghost? — and he’s definitely more than a little dead, so admiring his good looks is never going to go any further than this.
Besides, there’s Miles. I know we haven’t officially made up yet, but I’m already having trouble staying angry at him. If he’d showed me this trick with the stone before all this other stuff happened, I don’t know how I would’ve reacted. I can’t really blame him for being scared, I just wish he would’ve trusted me.
“I look forward to our work together,” Henri says, mouth curving into a sinful smirk.
“It certainly should be… interesting,” I mutter, half lost in the feeling of being watched so intently by both of them, half lost in the possibilities of a real discovery. Let alone an Atlantis-level discovery. It’s too much to even hope for.
Miles clears his throat suddenly. “You think we could go somewhere private? To
talk?”
There’s no doubt he means out of the bar, without Henri. My stomach twists. There are only so many things I can imagine him wanting to talk about. And there are a lot of things we need to talk about, but…
It’s barely noon and it’s already been a hell of a day. It’s quickly turning into one of those days where I wonder why I even bothered getting up, because it’s only been downhill from there.
But I’m an adult, and adults talk out their problems. Miles isn’t exactly much of a talker, so the very fact that he’s asking me to do this is a big step.
“Yeah, of course. It stopped raining. Wanna go outside?”
Miles glances toward the windows, eyes narrowing. “It… Of course it did. Yeah, why not. I’m mostly dry now anyway.”
The walk to the door is probably the most awkward thirty seconds of my life, but the second we’re both outside, there’s a break in the tension.
“Callie, I screwed up,” he says, not even three steps from the door.
“I’m listening.”
He blows out a long breath, then laughs softly. “Course you wouldn’t make it easy. Why should you? I didn’t know about the siren thing, but I did cut you out when we were kids because I was scared. And I still am.”
By now we’re in the woods, the canopy dampening all the outside sounds, just steady drips from above still meandering down. I can count the number of times I’ve heard Miles talk about his feelings on one hand. There’s no way I’m saying a word that could put an end to this. I’m not even sure I should risk breathing.
“I’m scared I’m going to lose you again, Cal,” he says, stopping on the trail, fingers raking through his hair. “I was stupid enough to let it happen once. Convinced myself it was for the best for whatever reason, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about your dad, about your siren-ness… I just want you. You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted, and I’d feel pretty fucking stupid if I let something like this change my mind. And I hope, all things considered, that my sealness doesn’t seem so weird anymore,” he adds, one side of his mouth quirking up, a rare attempt at humor that yanks at my heartstrings.