Siren's Song (20 page)

“Don't come closer, Matt,” she warns. “I don't know what you did to me the other night after the bonfire, but my mind can't focus on any of the details. I think you drugged me or something.”

Matt and Luke exchange a glance while Taylin spews what could be a series of curses, this time in another language that sounds like Latin or Greek.

“You're the one with the loose tongue, Tay,” Matt yells in irritation toward his sister, but keeps his eyes locked on Carly. He sighs. “I performed a little hypnosis on you to keep you from remembering what my drunk sister was spouting off about.”

“Sister?” Carly looks between Matt and Taylin, and then to Luke. “You, too? You all have the same nose. Different coloring, but the same cheekbones.” Carly turns back to stare at Matt, her face scrunching up. “Hypnosis? One of your natural talents, or have you been taking hypnotist courses at the local wacka-doodle college?”

Matt frowns at her and opens his mouth, but I step in first.

“Okay, Carly,” I say and loop my arm through hers, “here's the story.” I take a deep breath, knowing how crazy this is going to sound to logical Carly. “Luke and his brother and sister were born two hundred years ago in Scotland. When their parents died, they met a crazy wizard who was practicing black magic.”

Carly gasps. “They're vampires?”

Taylin snorts and curses over by the stream.

“No,” I say. “They're human.”

Her expression turns skeptical. “They are two-hundredyear-old humans?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “You believe in vampires, but have trouble with my age?”

Carly flashes him a “don't mess with me” glare. I look to Luke.
A little help?

He sighs and straightens from where he's been leaning against a boulder with his arms crossed. He walks over to me and looks down into my eyes. My breath stops as he leans in and gives me a leisurely taste, his hand cupping the side of my head. When he steps back, I see the swirl of something in his eyes and his jaw hardens. As he drags his hand from my hair, it clenches tightly and I notice the faint swirls of dragons on his biceps.

I catch my breath from the kiss, and he walks over to the boulder that stands as high as his waist. With one grunt, he dislodges it from the soil and lifts it.

Carly's mouth drops open.

“Well, fuck,” Taylin, of course. “You're stronger than Matthias now.”

“The curse?” I ask,
so you can kill me easily
. I don't have to say the words; I can tell they're in my expression from the defeat in Luke's look. He nods.

“A curse?” Carly parrots. “Two hundred years old, but not vampires.” Her hand strays to her throat and I see her swallow hard. “I think you'd better start from the beginning.” Luke drops the rock and leans against it again.

“They're human, and they've died and been reborn eleven times since then. This powerful wizard was utterly nuts. He wanted revenge against them, cursed them to live over and over again in loveless lives. Luke and Matt and Taylin can't love anyone or anything, except…their Sirens.”

“Sirens?” Carly's eyebrow rises as she stares at me. “Like one of those singing bird-women from the Odyssey?” Carly and I went through a huge mythology craze back in middle school when I was in my first play, which was Greek.

“Exactly.” I squeeze her arm. “You know…when I sing people kind of, well, zone out. That's part of being a Siren.”

Carly stares at me; her mouth drops open. “A Siren? My mom called your mom that once because her voice calls people to her. And now so does yours.”

“And you were right,” I say. “My voice is becoming more powerful, ever since Luke moved here.”

Carly stares at me for a long moment. I can see the shock melt into semi-acceptance. “Can they help you get through the show?” Carly asks.

“I think Taylin can, but there's more.”

“I need to sit down.” Carly plops onto a tuft of grass. I wonder if her legs just gave out. She looks at the three of them standing around the clearing. “You three are siblings and you've lived a lot of lives over two hundred years. And you can't love.” Carly's eyes narrow. “God, can't love? Anyone?”

“Not parents, or pets, or friends,” I fill in.

“Sucks,” Matt says. Carly looks at him, a softening in her eyes. I wonder if she forgives him for botching up her memory.

“But you said they can love their Sirens?” Carly asks, coming back to me.

I nod. “Apparently I'm Luke's Siren.”

“Wow, that's like…crazy romantic.”

“Well, there is another part to the curse.”

Taylin walks back to us. She sits down on the same boulder as Carly. “Yeah, every time Jule belts out a tune Luke wants to slice her open and spill her blood all over the ground.”

Carly's head snaps to me. “What?”

I frown at Taylin, who smiles back smugly. I wonder if she was a bitch before the curse. “The curse, as curses go, is meant to bring pain. So the one person they are able to love is also the one person they must kill to break the curse.”

“The desire to kill our Siren,” Matt chimes in, “grows in proportion to the love we feel for them.”

“So the more Luke falls in love with Jule,” Carly says, “the harder it will be for him not to…” she waves her hand toward the ground, “slice her open and spill her blood all over the place.”

“Must we be so graphic?” I question loudly.

Taylin shrugs. “Best you know exactly why you need to stay away from Luke.”

A boulder materializes in my gut at her words. Stay away from Luke? Is that even possible? The thought of leaving him, not seeing him again, makes me feel weak.

“You should tell your dad you want to transfer to

Westerland. They have a hockey team,” Matt says, looking at Luke, “and the school's across town.”

“Wooo, that's a pricey place,” Carly comments.

“His dad can afford it,” Taylin laughs. “And it's pretty amazing how much our parents will do for us in hopes that we'll cuddle up to them,” she adds bitterly. She covers the flash of pain with a sneer. Taylin's cell phone starts shrieking a heavy metal song. “Shit,” she glances at the screen. “Dad's probably worried I'm off slitting my wrists again. He keeps patching me up.”

“He's a doctor,” Matt explains.

“OMG, you're like the poster child for troubled teens,” Carly says.

“Yeah, sucks for them,” Taylin says, ducking her eyes to her black Chuck Taylors. “I'd better get home before he calls the cops again, or he'll try to put me on some other antidepressant.”

“He wouldn't worry so much if he knew you couldn't kill yourself,” Matt says. “You can't?” I ask. “But haven't you tried?”

“When it's self-inflicted, the curse heals us before we die,” she says. “Part of the curse. No easy way out.” She shrugs. “I just give it a try out of desperation sometimes.”

“Come on, Jule,” Carly says. “I'm parked behind her. I'll drive you home.” She pulls at me, but I don't follow. Instead, I walk closer to Luke. He's staring at me as if he expects me to run away. And he looks like he probably won't stop me if I do. I swallow down the beginnings of panic. Not panic over the fact that Luke's curse might make him try to kill me, but panic over the thought of leaving him.

“I'd better go before my dad wonders where I am.” My mouth says the words my heart rejects.

He nods. I'm still connected to Luke's stare. “Don't… don't…” I shake my head and try to ignore the listening ears around me. I lower my voice. “Don't disappear on me.”

The corner of Luke's scowl turns upward into that casual-crooked grin that captures my breath and kicks my heart into a sprint. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Westerland has–” Matt starts.

“I am battling hard enough to keep my temper in check,” Luke says as he glances at Matt, his grin gone. But then he looks quickly back to me. “I don't have any remaining strength to stay away from Jule.”

The boulder in my gut breaks into a swarm of fluttering butterflies. Relief and concern war for top spot on my list of crazily twisted emotions. He's not going to leave me. What if he really should leave me? I already know that the pain would be unthinkable, but would the pain be worse than death?

Luke's hand is warm and solid as he gently squeezes mine. “We just have to figure out how to break the curse.”

He lets Carly pull me away toward her car. We leave the strange trio standing there. How could I have missed their obvious similarities before? Taylin scowls and spits on the leaves. Matt shakes his head, his eyes worried and continually shifting to Luke. Luke's gaze locks with mine through Carly's dirty windshield as she backs down the path. Strength emanates from him as he stands, fists at his sides.

Carly doesn't say anything at all. I'm too…well, too
something
to care at the moment. What am I? Worried? No– more than worried. Scared? Yeah, probably, but not for the reason I should be. Not because I now know that the world is darker and more dangerous than what I've always believed. Not because I know that the fury I've witnessed in Luke's eyes was real and meant for me. Not even because Matt and Taylin are convinced that Luke is going to slash me open. I'm scared because…

Carly performs a three-point turn and I can no longer see Luke. My chest aches like I'm on the bottom of a swimming pool and my air is all gone and I need to break through the surface now. I concentrate on breathing in and out but the pressure doesn't go away. Because I'm scared. Scared that I might be falling in love with the very person I should be running from. And at the same time, scared that if I run, he won't follow.

Carly pulls up in front of my house. Dad peeks out and waves. Carly and I sit silently for a moment as the darkness descends around her car like someone painting the world in gray.

“Well, shit,” Carly finally says, but she continues to stare out the front window. She turns to me. “So…” she sighs. “I guess I'll pick you up tomorrow for school.”

I look at her; my eyes narrow.

“You don't look like you want to talk about it,” Carly explains. “And to tell you the truth, I need to process.” She spins her finger at the side of her head like the sign for “crazy.” “We can figure it out tomorrow after school. You know, come up with a plan to break the curse or something.”

She talks about it so nonchalantly that I have to smile. “Thanks.” I open the door.

“You know,” she stops me, “that would have been a perfect time to ask for some iced-strawberry lip gloss.”

“And have you calling the cops?”

Carly scrunches her face at me from under her open-door light. “Okay, if you say anything about lip gloss, I'll come running. Save the really scary stuff for the iced-strawberry variety.”

I give her a twisted grin. “Cavalry Carly.” I turn.

“Jule.” I stop and look back at my best friend. “Just… be safe. Okay?”

I nod quickly, although I have no idea how to keep that promise.

I pass through the house, telling Dad I need to do some homework before dinner.

The steps feel steep and my head aches. I sit on my bed and stare across at the dragonfly print my mom gave me. The purples and blues wash together over its wings, silver ink tracing the delicate infrastructure.

Fragile in form, resilient in spirit.

I stare at it for several minutes.
You're special, Carissima
, my mom said when she gave me the print.
Beautiful and delicate, yet full of spirit and resilience. Dragonflies have been around since the age of the dinosaurs. Even though they are breakable, their spirit is strong. The dragonfly is the perfect symbol of you
. I argued that dragonflies don't sing. She smiled and said,
You're so much more than singing
.

My fingers seek the familiar spot on my chest and I stand up in front of my full-length framed mirror. I pull down the edge of my shirt and run my fingers over the light brown wings that blend into my skin. My birthmark. A small dragonfly sits embedded in my skin, the smudge on Luke's two-hundred-year-old sketch. For years I tried to imagine it as a nightingale, but the four distinct, brown, teardrop wings make the vague but recognizable shape into a dragonfly.

I stare at myself in the mirror—wide, sad eyes, lashes spiked with tears, lips open on a shallow breath. The exact look from Luke's sketchbook. A chill rattles against my spine. Has my whole life been set, then? Am I just playing a role already sketched out for me? Loved with obsessive devotion, hated with barely controlled fury? I breathe slowly, deeply as my gaze shifts from my reflection in the mirror to the dark and hazy reflection in the windowpane. Beyond, the lights of Amberly Heights spark along the street, leading to Luke's house.

Choices. We all have choices. I have to believe that. I run my fingertips down the cool black glass. Luke has a choice not to…recreate that last picture of me lying limp over his arms as he roars in anguish. I swallow hard. And I have choices. I could stay away from Luke. If I asked him to, he'd leave. Right?

My palm lies flat against the hard pane, obscuring the reflection. I look over my fingertips to my front yard. My breath hitches as I recognize Luke, staring up at me. His hands are shoved into his jean pockets. The wind blows dark hair across his forehead and eyes. He nods and turns to walk back toward his house, as if he's just checking to make sure I'm safely inside. As he fades into shadow the feeling of loss churns somewhere between my stomach and heart. I struggle to pull in a steady breath. Instead it comes out ragged.

Choices? Right! I lean my forehead on the window. What choices do I have? To refuse love and possibly live, or to grab hold of love…and possibly die? As I sigh and turn back to my empty room I know that one choice has been made. I am most definitely falling in love with Lucas Whitmore. Now–to work on the living part.