Siren Hunter- the Curse

by J G Barber

  The bird-like creature morphs into Leucosia. She looks a few years older than she did the 16th century, still breathtaking in her naked human form. No one would have a clue she’s now over twelve thousand years old, the last known survivor of the ancient race of green-eyed, red-haired Sirenians that thrived on this planet before the Great Flood.

  Lorelei glances at Leucosia with eyes that could sink a thousand ships. Leucosia turns her attention to Possession Sound. Lorelei emerges from the tub. As her mermaid tail withdraws from the water, it morphs into human legs.

  She grabs a comb and joins Leucosia. It’s the same gold comb from their days together in the Rhine River. Lorelei grooms Leucosia’s windblown red hair. “Promise me we will finish it this time. Once and for all eternity,” Leucosia pleads.

  “You doubt my resolve, sister?” Lorelei reflects on how many times they’ve had this discussion over the centuries.

  Leucosia turns to connect with her, eyes filled with sadness and pain. “I tire of the repetition.”

  “I sense this one is different. I want to see what we’re up against.” Lorelei picks up a pair of HD digital binoculars. She locates the approaching motorsailer and zooms in as two images of Paul merge into one. “Erik returns. Like father, like son.”

  Leucosia morphs again into the bird-woman. “I will test his new prodigy.” She leaps off the edge of the faux turret. Her wings carry her over the trees and down toward the rocky shore.

  The motorsailer passes Possession Point. Paul surveys the rocks along the shore with Erik’s spyglass. He spots movement. Paul plays with the focus. Now it’s a woman?

  Leucosia’s sweet, sad melody penetrates the wind. She projects her song into Paul’s soul and her thoughts into his mind. “Paul. Come to me.” Paul steers the boat towards the shore. Art puffs his cigar and stares up at the faux castle turret. Leucosia’s melody continues. The wind dies. The water stills. “Paul. You are mine.”

  He locks in his spyglass view of the naked woman perched on a rock. Paul drops the mainsail. “Art, drop the headsail!”

  “Paul, what’s going on?” Art freezes as Leucosia wails.

  “Drop the headsail! Now!” Paul leaps forward as the wailing ignites a burst of wind. He unties the line as the wind catches the headsail. The boat rocks. Paul bounces hard off the lifeline, grabs it, and stays aboard. Art and Jeannie collide and they fall onto the deck of the cockpit. Laura flies out of the cockpit, spins her body mid-air, and hits the water with a clean dive. She emerges from underwater, shocked by the cold and thrilled by the moment of adventure.

  Paul wrestles himself aft as Laura swims to the aft ladder. He helps Laura on board and fetches a thick wool blanket. He wraps her up and rubs her belly. “Are you okay?”

  Laura smiles, still reveling in the excitement. “We’re fine.” She checks Paul for injuries. “What happened?”

  Paul scans the rocks where Leucosia perched. She’s no longer there. He looks up to the clouds. “Downburst. A sudden wind caused by the thunderstorm.”

  Art and Jeannie struggle to their feet, bruised and frightened but not injured. Art searches for his cigar. “Let’s motor in,” he says to Paul. Jeannie sits next to Laura and wraps her arms around her. Laura wrings the water out of her hair.

  Paul secures the sails. While on the bow, he spots a 19th century, two-mast wood schooner anchored nearby. He returns to the cockpit, fires up the motors, and steers a wide circle to check it out.

  Leucosia strolls the deck, her red hair dripping and her naked skin glistening with sea water. She exudes a wanton desire capable of enslaving the strongest-willed human. Art stares at her, spellbound. The way she moves entrances Paul. The men’s reaction sends Jeannie into an immobilizing spiral of confusion.

  As her prey motors by, Leucosia focuses on Paul with eyes like a snake ready to strike. Then she turns her attention to Laura. Leucosia’s eyes turn emerald green and her face relaxes as they connect in a moment of primal, mutual desire. Laura wills herself to turn away.

  Laura takes a deep breath, grabs the wheel, and steers the motorsailer away. Jeannie and the men return to their senses. Art nudges Paul. He takes the wheel back from Laura and speeds up toward Seattle. Laura notices the name Parthenope carved in the schooner’s stern as it fades into the distance.

  Elliott Bay Marina offers boat moorage to Seattle’s wealthy boat owners. The location provides breathtaking views of downtown Seattle and Mount Rainier. And it’s home to Paul’s favorite restaurant: Palisade. The sailors exit the docks.

  Laura educates Paul about the schooner’s name. “Parthenope was a siren in the Greek poem I told you about, The Odyssey. In one version of the story, she became so dismayed that she could not seduce Odysseus with her siren song, she threw herself into the sea and drowned.”

  “Psychological profile?” He grins. He already knows the answer.

  Laura knows her husband. She uses film and television references to explain archetypes to him. “Fatal attraction.”

  Paul shoots her a mischievous glance as he nods. “My kind of girl.” He wraps his arm over her shoulder and pulls her in close.

  “Why d’you marry me, then?” she teases, poking at his ribs.

  “To protect me from girls like that.” He spins her around to face him and gives her a big kiss.

  Art interrupts the moment. He ignores Laura’s disdain and focuses on Paul, extending his hand. “Nice work today. Poise. Decisiveness. Action without hesitation.”

  Paul shakes his hand. “Thanks.” He studies the look of restraint on Art’s face. What is he up to?

  Art shifts his focus to Laura. “If your husband handles our next deal the way he handles my boat, I might have to make him COO.” Laura feigns a smile. He nods to Jeannie.

  Jeannie hooks Laura’s arm to hold her back. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes.” The men walk ahead as they walk towards the ladies’ room. “How’s everything with you two?” she asks.

  “Fine.” Laura takes a couple steps to distance herself. What are they up to?

  Jeannie closes the distance Laura created. “Stick it out, Laura.” She opens the door and follows Laura in. “Just a little bit longer and you’ll never have to worry about money again.”

  Laura turns to face her. “We have plenty of money.” What I don’t have is my husband.

  Jeannie empathizes with the pain on Laura’s face. “I never see Art. If he’s not at work, he’s at the club or the golf course.” She takes Laura’s hands. “This is your time for you. Enjoy it.”

  Laura pulls her hands away. “We’re about to have a child, Jeannie.” She hands Jeannie the Hummer keys.

  “Be right back,” Jeannie says before trotting away.

  Art and Paul walk into the parking lot. Art counts the money in his wallet. “Did you clear your schedule?”

  “Yes.” Paul’s never seen Art act the way he’s acting right now. This is something big.

  “I need you in at seven on Monday,” Art says. “We have an early meeting.”

  Paul scans Art’s eyes and face for a non-verbal clue. Nothing. “Did Jerry turn the corner?” Jerry Weisbaum is the CEO of New Century Digital Distribution, the prospective ADMS acquisition Paul has courted for two years. Paul and Jerry both know the ADMS platform is a perfect fit for New Century’s business model. But they haven’t been able to get a deal done because of Art’s missteps.

  Art grips Paul’s shoulder. “I have to clear a few things with the board before I can give you full disclosure. All I can tell you now is, this is important.”

  Paul’s spidey sense lights up. Yes! We’re in play!

  Jeannie and Laura return from the ladies’ room. Art stops at his Cadillac XT5. He opens the hatchback and withdraws a gift-wrapped box with a card and a bow. “Paul, Laura, happy anniversary. May this be a blessed day for you both.” Art gives Laura the box and shakes Paul’s hand again.

  “Open it. Open it,” Jeannie begs. Laura pretends to smile as she reveals a bottle of 1999 Dom Perignon. The
year 1999 has a special significance to Art and Paul. Their shared goal for ADMS: build a company that grabs the big prize before the end of the cloud technology bubble.

  “Thank you,” Paul says as he hugs Jeannie. Laura clutches the box to block Art’s hug.

  Art points at Paul. “7 a.m. Monday. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.” He opens the Cadillac door for Jeannie. Art circles around front to take the driver’s seat. They drive away as Paul and Laura return to the Hummer.

  Laura stows the gift box and her bag of wet clothes in back. While Paul waits, his mind rewinds through the weekend’s whirlwind of unusual events.

  A foggy memory from the cemetery becomes clear. “Laura. Those two men we met yesterday, Alexei and Dutch. I remember. They came over to my parents’ house. And they were at the hospital the night Robert died.” His memory flashes back to that night.

  Paul sits by Robert’s bedside, holding his hand. Tubes and wires decorate his head and face. The heart monitor displays a flat-line and alarms sound. A shadow figure emerges from Robert’s body and merges with Paul. His body shakes unnaturally as the shadow figure takes residence behind Paul’s eyes.

  Chapter Four

  Floor to ceiling picture windows extend from the Douglass dining room into the living room, offering a majestic view of northern Lake Washington. The windows frame an empty boat dock, a constant reminder of Paul’s unfulfilled dream.

  Paul opens the bottle of Dom and pours two glasses as Laura lays out a vegetarian Mexican feast. He brushes a hand along her belly as she heads back to the kitchen. “How’s our son doing?”

  Laura wraps her hands around his waist. “You know something I don’t?”

  “He’s a boy. I can feel it.” He pushes her back and inspects her, head to toe. He doesn’t find any bruises or scrapes. “You sure you’re okay? That was a rough ride today.”

  “Are you kidding? That was a blast!” She grabs the glass from him. “Paul, I see Dr. Kyle on Monday. Stop worrying.”

  Paul raises a toast. “To the ten best years of my life.”

  She taps his glass with hers. “I love you.” I do. I don’t know why sometimes.

  “My love bunny.” Paul kisses her. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” Their rings click as they hold hands.

  Paul samples Art’s gift. “Wow. This is fantastic.” He pulls out a chair for her. They settle in to eat.

  Laura dishes out servings of beans, rice, grilled vegetables, and guacamole for both of them. “You look happy, Paul.”

  He looks out at the empty dock. Paul empties his glass. “God, I want my boat. Art’s boat is great and all, but a motorsailer… It feels like cheating. I want a sailboat.” He pours himself another. “The question remains. High-tech world sailer or classic wood boat, like that old schooner we saw today?”

  Laura’s mind flashes back to Leucosia strolling across the deck of the Parthenope. “High-tech. You know how you love your toys.” She devours her food.

  Paul snaps himself out of a fantasy moment: he’s at the helm of the schooner, with Laura and Leucosia both naked on either side of him. “Yeah, but did you see that beauty?”

  Her cheeks flush. “Are you talking about the boat?”

  Paul downs his second glass of champagne. “I’m talking about sailing. The way my forefathers did. Wood and wind. Canvas and rope. Sea and salt. Man against the elements. Freedom. Romance.”

  She’s not on board. “Scurvy. Rats. Sirens. How romantic.”

  They sit in silence as they finish their meals. Laura clears the table, wraps the leftovers, and puts them away. She returns to the dining room to catch Paul just before he pours another glass of champagne. She shoots him the stink eye. He sets the bottle aside.

  “I’ll be right back.” Paul sneaks out to the other room. He returns with a gift box.

  She shakes her head. “Paul. We agreed.”

  He presents the box to her. “Happy anniversary.”

  She unwraps a copper plate with gold inlays. A blown glass mermaid jumping out of an oil-painted sea. Tiny gemstones adorn the mermaid and add sparkle to sea. “My god. It’s beautiful.” Laura places it on the cabinet where her collection of mythical figurines lives. She stands back to admire it.

  He wraps his arm over her shoulder. “Not as beautiful as you, my love.” She spins into his arms and kisses him. They make their way to the bedroom.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Laura says in a sexy, sacred voice. Paul lifts her up in his arms, carries her in, and places her on the bed.

  Paul bites into a roast beef sandwich and washes it down with Glaze straight from the bottle. He resumes typing into the presentation he’s been working on all weekend: ‘New Century Digital Distribution and Advanced Digital Media Solutions - Positioned to Profit from Today’s Multi-Platform Audiences.’ “Done.” He glances at the clock. It’s 3:00 a.m.

  He grabs the bottle and stumbles through the living room toward the kitchen. A full moon beams through the skylight to illuminate the room and the backyard. He opens the back patio door.

  Paul makes his way to the dock. A light fog rises off the water, intersecting the moonlight to turn the dock into a portal to another dimension. He walks out to the end and plops down. Paul sets down the bottle and retrieves a tin from its hiding place under one of the dock boards. He pulls out the stub of a joint and a lighter.

  “Paul, your addiction is out of control,” he lectures himself in Laura’s voice. “It’s Saturday night and I gotta get some sleep,” his insomniac replies. He takes two hits, just enough for the 9 Pound Hammer to take effect. The exhaled smoke interacts with the fog and the moonlight, fascinating him while he waits for his sleep aid to permeate his brain and body.

  A dimple appears in the water, a stone’s throw from the dock. A woman’s head pokes out of the water, stopping at breast level. It’s Lorelei. She keeps herself steady with a swirl of her tail that sustains a circular current around her. The moonlight reflects off the water and saturates the fog, creating a subtle vortex of light around her.

  They stare into each other’s eyes as if they’ve known each other for centuries and are meeting once again after a long absence. As they study the records of each other’s souls, they recognize a deep, unbearable grief. Two of a kind.

  She sings to him in a soft but potent voice. A sweet, sad, hypnotic tune that reaches into Paul’s core, evoking his deepest grief, stirring a desire stronger than anything he’s experienced before that moment. He reaches out to her with his free hand. Lorelei submerges and swims away at amazing speed. Paul glimpses her tail as she disappears.

  “Holy shit.” He takes a swig from the bottle. It’s empty. “Wasted!” He flicks the roach into the water, stashes the tin, and stumbles back to the house.

  Paul and Laura walk along the waterfront in downtown Seattle. Laura scolds him. “What the fuck? You stayed up all night—on our anniversary. Drinking a bottle of wine. Eating a pound of roast beef. And working on a fucking presentation for another fucking mystery meeting that fucking Art set up. God dammit, Paul, your addiction is out of control.”

  He stops her. “Yes I fucking did. First, it was only three a.m. Second, true; I drank the whole bottle. Third, not true, only half the roast beef. It was justified. This is the big one, Laura. I can feel it.”

  She stops herself from pushing Paul over the railing into the water. “I’m done. We’re making the appointment.” Laura dials her smartphone.

  Paul turns away and looks out onto Puget Sound. “You’re making a drama out of this.”

  “You were a workaholic before your parents died. Now you’re a train wreck waiting to happen.” She steps away as her phone call connects.

  Paul spots something on the water; his whole demeanor changes. He pulls Erik’s spyglass out of his windbreaker. With a flick of his wrist, he opens the spyglass and scans the water. He finds the Parthenope off shore. It’s following us, a voice in Paul’s mind says. A wave of rage overtakes him. Paul slaps the spyglass closed.r />
  Laura rejoins Paul. She looks into his enraged eyes and takes a step back. She has seen this look before—she saw it again in the bedroom last night—and it scares her every time. She fights her flight instinct. “Ellen’s waiting. You need to relax before we go in.”

  Paul knows to use the breathing techniques Laura taught him when he loses control like this. He takes a few breaths and flexes his body to shake off the rage.

  They continue to their destination, an old coffee shop on the corner and up the street. Paul opens the door for her. Laura ignores him as she marches in. Something catches his eye down the sidewalk. “Be there in a minute.” He heads for the outside window of a pet shop.

  Laura doesn’t hear him. She’s already gone to the pastry case. She places an order at the counter and paces in a tight circle, dreading the return of her husband and what today’s encounter with her sister might bring.

  “Over here.” It’s Laura’s older sister, Ellen. Her arrogant demeanor is a convincing front for anyone except her little sister and her sister’s husband. Ellen hides her beauty and her weight with a long earth mother dress, and her heart behind a stack of necklaces.

  Laura grabs her order and huddles next to Ellen at a four-person table. “How was your anniversary night?” Ellen asks. “Did it work?”

  “No, Ellen. Your ritual did not work.” Laura plows through her scone. She responds to Ellen’s inquisitive look. “He did not make love to me like a true gentleman. He did not hold me in his arms afterwards. He behaved like a fucking asshole and then stayed up all night working and drinking.”

  Ellen assesses Laura’s emotional state. “Interesting. Did you watch the video?”

  Laura restrains herself from wrapping her hands around her sister’s throat. “You’re diverting.” I am so tired of her bullshit. Ellen provides all kinds of web and social media as fodder for her Laura’s research. She never misses the opportunity to insert her metaphysical point of view into Laura’s thinking when she does.