The Siren

by Petra Landon

  Copyright © 2019 Petra Landon

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Biserka

  First Kindle Edition, March 2020

  Visit the author’s website for excerpts and other works in progress

  www.PetraLandon.com

  SAGA OF THE CHOSEN

  The Siren is not a standalone story. It continues the saga of the Chosen from The Rainmaker. If it has been a while since The Rainmaker, a reread is highly recommended. A Glossary at the end of this book provides a quick reminder of the main cast of characters and Chosen factions from the story so far. This is by no means exhaustive and is merely intended as a quick reference to help jog memories.

  Book One : THE PROPHECY

  Book Two : THE RAINMAKER

  Book Three : THE SIREN

  www.petralandon.com

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  01 : The chessboard comes alive

  02 : An Archmage enters the fray

  03 : The Guardian comes to town

  04 : The Seer’s interpretation opens a can of worms

  05 : Ancient history

  06 : Faoladh peels back the curtain

  07 : An Archmage and a vision

  08 : Both the Alpha and Tasia break cover

  09 : The Archmage has a name

  10 : The Siren

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Petra Landon

  Glossary

  Excerpt – Star Child

  Excerpt – The Mercenary

  CHAPTER 1

  The chessboard comes alive

  Our wills and fates do so contrary run

  That our devices still are overthrown;

  Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.

  - Hamlet

  “Something is blocking me” a feminine voice declared in unmistakable alarm. “I can’t see anything.”

  Her reverie interrupted, she glanced at Tasia. They were on edge; acutely conscious of the peril that confronted them. Culled from the herd, they’d been corralled here. And now, cornered and vulnerable, they faced the prospect of holding off an army on their own. While their friends would leave no stone unturned to reach them, the Pack and its allies might not make it in time. Until their friends came to their rescue, they must hold their own against the hordes circling them.

  “What do you mean?” she asked Tasia. Her friend’s urgency disconcerted her. When they’d first become aware of their predicament, Tasia had taken it in her stride — cool, collected and confident. It had been a balm, for she knew that Tasia was to be tested soon under trying circumstances. In the past few weeks, her friend had come into her own, no longer a reticent and retiring Wizard with a predilection for side-stepping confrontations. But now, panic simmered in Tasia’s eyes.

  At the sight, dread and foreboding ratcheted up in her. “What is it, Tasia?” she pressed the Wizard, trying to not give in to her own fears.

  Tasia hesitated for an infinitesimal second, before capitulating. The explanation came in a rush, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness. “I’m able to sense Chosen in the vicinity. It’s almost like magic wafts in the air and I see it. But suddenly, I can’t. There’s nothing! Something’s interfering with my ability.”

  Despite the garbled explanation, she grasped the gist of the admission. And took a moment to digest it. There had been hints before, even magic feats under extraordinary circumstances, that suggested exceptional, even fantastic, power. Thus, she’d been aware for a while now that Tasia had a lot of magic in her the Wizard chose to keep secret from their brethren. But this was something else. The power to distinguish between human and Chosen was singular and deadly.

  Beside her, Nandini’s stifled gasp made it clear that she was not the only one grappling with the declaration. Like her, Nandini was no stranger to Tasia’s Magick capabilities. Yet, the Indian Ancient was staggered by the disclosure.

  “You’re sure?” she questioned, trying to feel her way.

  “I can’t even sense you guys” Tasia said vehemently. “Something’s horribly wrong.”

  Momentarily lost for words, she gaped at her friend.

  Tasia drew a shaky breath, her face deathly pale. “I cannot defend us” she whispered. “Not if I don’t see them coming.”

  There was an exclamation from behind Nandini and the Indian Chosen, frozen in shock, came to life again.

  “I can” Nandini declared. “Sense them coming, that is.”

  Tasia turned to the Ancient. “How?”

  “I’m Naga, bonded to the earth” Nandini said simply. “I’ll know if a horde approaches us. It’s harder with a single person or a small group, but luckily for us, that’s not likely.”

  No, indeed, she mused. They had been isolated, segregated and herded here for a reason. Their mother meant to use them to rally her troops.

  Wild hope flashed across Tasia’s face. “Are you sure, Nandini?”

  “Yep.” The Indian girl’s response came confidently. “They’ll come for us in numbers, Tasia. The larger the crowd, the easier it is for me to read the vibrations.”

  “Thank the Forebearers!” Tasia breathed, immensely relieved. Color surged back into the Wizard’s face. “Whatever’s blocking my magic senses has not affected my other powers. If Nandini can warn us, we’ll hold them off.”

  “Of course, we will” affirmed an unfamiliar voice from behind Nandini. “Tasia and I have outwitted the Blutsaugers before.”

  Startled by the youthful voice, spiked with such assurance and certitude, she craned her neck to peer around Nandini. But before she could catch a glimpse of the girl, the dream ended abruptly.

  Sienna awoke to a dark room, disoriented by the abrupt change of environs. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings. She was in her room at the Lair in San Francisco. Hopping off the bed, an agitated Sienna paced restlessly around it. Had that been a dream, she wondered uneasily? Or another vision? If so, it would only be her second one. Given that she had not yet succeeded in making sense of the first vision, a monumental glimpse of the future that had shaped her choices, Sienna didn’t know how to feel about yet another omen.

  Clearly, her Seer gene had been inherited from her Da, the great Oracle himself. But unlike him, her record with interpreting visions was abysmal. She could barely distinguish between a dream and a vision, she reflected in despair. And though every instinct screamed that this had been no ordinary dream, it was difficult to be sure.

  Sienna replayed the short interlude in her mind, calling up the memories while they were fresh. The taste of grave threat and impending danger still lingered on her tongue, along with the rush of adrenaline and the fierce determination to hold out until their allies could even the numbers. A conversation with Nandini and Tasia, no matter how unusual, could easily be conjured up by her subconscious. They were teammates on the investigation and all three currently resided at the Lair. Also, they were friends united on a mission to thwart a ruthless, cruel and ambitious adversary hellbe
nt on taking the Chosen down the path of no return. But it was the final comment from the youthful, unfamiliar and feminine voice that threw Sienna for a loop. Try as she might, she could not reconcile that bit with a dream. Then, there was Tasia’s extraordinary admission about her magic. While some of the conversation might easily be a byproduct of her subconscious anxiety, about her mother’s ability to influence the future, the shocking confession was highly unlikely to be a figment of her imagination.

  A power such as that was unique, rare and lethal. Sienna frowned, pausing her perambulations as another realization struck her. No Spell Caster, even one off the charts on the Magic Level Scale, could possess such an ability. The product of an elite San Diego school, catering to Wizards, Sienna was keenly aware of both the range and the limitations of her brethren’s propensities. A Wizard’s power was derived from the ability to cast spells and the inherent magic in his blood. While training and experience could improve and fine-tune a Wizard’s artistry at spells, his power would always be limited by the magic he was born with. Spells fell into four broad categories, but every one of them was fueled, as well as checked, by the magic in a Wizard’s veins. Though many did learn, over the course of their lifetime, to use their resources cleverly and punch above their weight, the power to sense the magic inherent in a creature was well beyond the grasp of any Spell Caster.

  As the import of her thoughts hit her, Sienna collapsed into a chair. Despite the occasional glimpses and hints of Tasia’s abilities, she’d never questioned that her friend was a Wizard, merely assuming that the Magic Level Scale was inadequate when charting the magnitude of Tasia’s magic. But the power to discern Chosen from Si’ffa could never be inherent to a Wizard. Of more significance, a Magick with such a gift was no ordinary Chosen. It had been years since high school. Yet, Sienna had not forgotten the lessons from Chosen lore. Magic like this would elevate a Chosen to Mage territory. And a very powerful Mage at that. If history was any indication, Mages, at least the known ones, tended to always travel down two wildly differing paths. Either they hunted other Chosen, seemingly drunk on their own powers; or they became the hunted, a prey to other ambitious Magicks bent on exploiting their extraordinary gifts. Sienna’s heart sank at the ominous ramifications. If what she’d seen tonight had not been a dream but a glimpse into the future, it was a momentous clue to her original vision. This would explain how Tasia might, one day, end up in the arena before the Council of Chosen, to answer to charges from her brethren.

  While Sienna reeled in the privacy of her room, down in the newly converted Pack Room on the first floor, Nandini was engaged on a different endeavor altogether — attempting to soothe her twin.

  “Are you sure about this, Dini?” her brother persisted over the phone.

  “I’m very sure” she said firmly. “I have to see this through.”

  “This sounds dangerous …”

  Nandini interrupted him. “She is dangerous, Mahen. And if even half the allegations against her are true, she must be brought to justice.”

  Her twin sighed. Dini was fired up and determined to stop their mother. A mother they barely remembered — one who, to all purposes, was a stranger to them.

  “There will be no evidence of her hand in Papa’s assassination” Nandini asserted grimly. “She’s paranoid, careful, and lets nothing stand in her way — it would be like her to have her minions do the dirty work while she kept her hands clean. I can’t just let her walk away from this, Mahen.”

  He gave in to his sibling. If she believed that their mother had a hand in the death of their beloved father, then Dini would do everything in her power to ensure that Lady Bethesda was given her just deserts. Mahen, who knew his twin better than anyone else, accepted that she would not be swayed on this. But he wished fervently that he could be by her side while Dini embarked on a crusade.

  He changed the subject adroitly, no longer attempting to dissuade her. “The Wyrs trying to stop her — what are they like?” It wasn’t an idle query. Mahen wanted to get a sense of her allies. Without him to watch her back, the job would be up to Dini’s new friends. Until he could tie up the loose ends and join her on her quest.

  As intended, his query succeeded in diverting his twin. “Very focused on the goal” she said thoughtfully. “It’s an efficient and tightly-run operation. And they take very good care of Sienna and me.”

  Her twin, who had done his research into the Northern California Pack the moment Nandini had set up residence at the Lair in San Francisco, reflected on what he’d gleaned. Raoul Merceau had quite the reputation. Though chasing down Wizards belied it. Mahen wondered if the Alpha was merely following orders. The Wyrs were fanatical about fealty and the chain of command. His sister had indicated that Faoladh was involved. Perhaps, the Alpha’s dedication to this cause could be explained by it. Though there were bits that puzzled him, what Mahen had discovered calmed some of his fears for his sibling. If Raoul Merceau considered Nandini an ally, she would be well-guarded.

  “What do you make of Sienna?” he asked, curious about the half-sister they’d had no knowledge of for most of their lives, but whose future seemed strangely intertwined with theirs.

  “She’s nice.” Nandini’s response was prompt, a thread of affection ringing through her voice. “Quite wonderful, actually. But troubled about the past.”

  She paused before admitting something that had preoccupied her recent thoughts. “In a way, we were lucky, Mahen. Not knowing about her was the best thing Papa did for us. Sienna has not been that lucky.”

  He said nothing, though the quiet emotion in her words struck him forcefully.

  “When this is all over, I’d like to invite her to Nagalok for a visit” Nandini said. “You should get to know her too.”

  “I’m going to try and sort things here, Dini” he explained. “I want to see this through with you. But it might be a while before I can wrest myself away. Things are a little tricky right now.”

  “We have time and I’ll keep you updated” she assured her twin. With their father’s unexpected demise, his affairs had been left in an uncertain state. For most Chosen leaders like their father, the succession of the heir was carefully planned well in advance. This one had not been because their father’s time had been cut short by assassination. A thought that ate at her in her unguarded moments.

  “Do not worry about me, Mahen” she reassured him. “I’m guarded by Wyrs. And surrounded by a Guardian and even a First One — though, you know how I feel about him.”

  Mahen let that pass. He was keenly aware that Dini did not trust TorElnor’s First One but was nonetheless willing to work with him as long as the Alpha Protector led the investigation. This was because Nandini trusted Raoul Merceau. It helped to assuage Mahen’s concerns. The Alpha had won his twin’s trust with the refusal to abandon her to the Undead, when Nandini had made her long-shot bid for freedom from their mother’s Oregon house.

  “What about SivoTar?” he nudged Nandini. “He might be willing to help.”

  “He’s been very kind, Mahen. If I request his assistance for me or my friends, he’ll jump in. But to ask him to bring his Eru into this, we’ll have to convince him that she’s a threat to the Chosen.”

  “Hmm.” Now that he was the leader of the Kabila, Mahen understood this better. Offering his personal assistance was one thing but leading the people, who trusted him to look out for their welfare, into an unjustified war would be unconscionable for any leader. SivoTar would never do that. None of the First Ones would. Only the Wyrs and the Vampires tended to follow their leaders unquestioningly; one, because it was ingrained in their code and the other, because their blood ties to their Master compelled them to do so.

  Far from San Francisco, Sienna’s restless thoughts and Nandini’s assurances to her brother, their mother plotted her path to glory. Lady Bethesda was seriously rattled by Faoladh’s stubborn recalcitrance to join forces with her. When it had been about retrieving her locket, she could forgive Faoladh his seeming
reluctance. Now that two of her daughters had disavowed her to side with the Wyr Lord investigating her, she was less inclined to overlook Faoladh’s foibles. Raoul Merceau had confronted her, to walk away unscathed from their encounter. He’d even landed a few blows on her. The Lady did not like it one bit. She seethed silently, and she blamed Faoladh for the debacle. It was the Wyr who had chosen this Alpha Protector to dig into the past, and she was determined that it would be Faoladh who would put the kibosh on reviving old grievances against her. If the Alpha Protector was to be involved in this endeavor at all, it would be to do her bidding and to deploy his acumen, skills and resources to her cause, not to opposing her. Perhaps, she mused grimly, it was time to be more proactive with Faoladh — to jog his memory with old history he seemed to have conveniently forgotten. She did not intend to wait anymore at Faoladh’s pleasure. She was the heart of The Prophecy — the one with the power to change the Chosen’s future. She would not allow any other Magick, no matter how influential, to dictate the timing or events that would herald her glorious future.

  An outpost in the Canadian Rockies, Alberta, Canada

  Faoladh glanced up as a young Shifter strode into the room with a phone in his hand.

  “There’s a Guardian asking for you, Faoladh. She’s a friend of the Oracle.” There was a subtle question mark at the end of the Shifter’s statement. He was too young a Chosen to be familiar with the illustrious Seer. And historically, Shifters were less likely to be aware of Chosen with no significant role in Wyr affairs.

  Faoladh held out his hand for the phone. “Thank you, Ralph.”

  The young Shifter made an unobtrusive exit, to leave Faoladh wondering why any friend of the legendary Seer would reach out to him now.