Siren Hunter- the Curse Page 3

  Ellen looks deep into her sister’s eyes. “Laura, open your eyes to the truth.”

  Laura takes a deep breath. “Yes, I watched the fucking video. How are suicide and supernatural entities relevant to your ritual or my husband?”

  Paul sneaks in with a fluffy white bunny in a cage. Ellen sees him. She isolates one of her necklace charms—a pendant etched with the Old Norse rune of protection—and rubs it between her fingers. “Entities reveal their presence. You can see, hear, and feel them. If you are open to it.”

  Laura scoffs. “That video is garbage. Do you really believe an entity drove that man to kill himself?”

  Ellen locks eyes with her. “Absolutely.”

  Paul circles around Ellen, eyeballing her as she continues to rub the rune of protection. He sets the cage beside Laura and sits down between her and Ellen. “What’s this?” Laura asks.

  He grins. “A bunny for my love bunny.” He kisses her cheek.

  “Oh, Paul. You’re too much.” She peeks into the cage. The bunny looks back at her curious, unafraid. The two of them bond.

  Paul scoots his chair closer to Ellen. She clutches the rune necklace. “Did I just hear you see ghosts now? Your powers are growing at an exponential rate.”

  “Stay away from me.” She moves to the empty chair opposite him.

  Paul seizes the moment. “I saw your stupid video. Ghosts can’t make people commit suicide. They can’t make people do anything.”

  Ellen takes the challenge. “You’re right. A ghost is a like a recorded image. You find them in places where there was a profound trauma or loss. Entities are big trouble.”

  “Uh oh.” Paul is enjoying this.

  Ellen continues. “They are nonphysical beings that got lost on their way to the light. They have a strong will. Desires. A personality. They use living people to re-experience physical pleasures and to carry out unfinished business from their human lifetimes.”

  “Entities. Ghosts. It’s all bullshit.” Paul looks at Ellen, then Laura. Laura’s thinking about it. “For god’s sake, Laura. You’re a psychologist. You can’t possibly believe this…”

  “How do you know you’re not possessed by an entity, Paul?” Ellen asks.

  Paul laughs. He finds a mirror on the wall near the restroom. Paul studies his own reflection. He returns and looks deep into Laura’s eyes. “I don’t see any entities. Do you?”

  Laura refuses to look him in the eyes. He looks into Ellen’s eyes. His eyes widen in mock fear. “My god, Laura. She’s right.”

  “Paul.” Laura knows where this is going. Every time the three of them meet, Paul and Ellen get into some kind of philosophical argument. Her self-righteous indignation cannot outlast his iron will and determination to be right no matter what.

  Ellen folds her arms and looks him straight in the eyes. “Your refusal to see doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  This stokes the fire for Paul. He stands, ready for a fight. “Fair enough. Let’s say they do exist. Can they help me sell my company?”

  She’s fired up enough to stand up. Ellen match his physiology. “They can if you’re in the movie business.”

  He steps toward her, getting in her face. “I’m in the software business.”

  She leans toward him, hands on her hips. “You’re in the denial business.”

  “And you, dear sister-in-law, are the all-knowing queen of the fucking universe. I bow down before your infinite wisdom.” He mocks her with a full body bow.

  Laura stifles a laugh. “Love conquers all, right sis?” She shifts her attention to the bunny as a distraction.

  “I can’t help you.” Ellen packs up her belongings and heads for the restroom.

  Laura considered going after Ellen to calm her down, but she knows it’s no use. This is who her sister and husband are together. She observes Paul as the bunny sniffing his finger captivates his attention. The emotions from their disturbing attempt at intimacy on their anniversary night, and Paul’s volatile behavior and attitude, swirl as a toxic brew in her gut. She considers the ramifications of their interchange with Ellen. What if she’s right?

  Chapter Five

  It’s early Monday morning. Paul suits up to play the part of an executive ready to close a deal. He flew to Hong Kong a few years back to buy a set of big money suits on Art’s advice. Every time he wears them, he feels empowered by the look, the feel and the thread quality. He shows Laura his smartphone. “See. The appointment’s in my calendar. I’ll see you tonight at 6:30.”

  Laura smiles, happy that he’s willing to enter therapy with her. She admires the look. “You look good in the monkey suit, as always,” she teases.

  He models the suit for her. “I love the monkey suit. I don’t like the things I have to do in it.” A moment of dread overcomes him, a toxic swirl in his gut. The feeling squashes his mood.

  She sees his change in his demeanor. “Today’s the big day, huh? Art’s gonna reveal the latest mystery?”

  Paul checks himself out one more time in the full-length mirror. “I pray to God this meeting is what I think it is. I’m so ready to be done.”

  “I hope the day brings you everything you’ve been working for.” Laura has heard this same story for years. She’s learned not to salt his game the mornings of these big meetings. Since his parent’s death, the consequences have been terrifying.

  Paul checks the mirror one last time to make sure he’s wearing his game face. He gives her a robotic kiss and bolts out the door. Laura watches through the split in the curtains as the Hummer drives away. She walks over to the bunny cage. The bunny sniffs her baby belly. “What about you, little guy?” She rubs where the bunny sniffed. “You gonna be like your daddy?” Laura reflects on how much she’s like her mother. Do we have a choice?

  The Hummer’s tires screech as Paul turns into the parking lot of a brick and glass two-story building on a busy Seattle street. Satellite dishes and antennae cover the roof, remnants from the previous occupant. A back-lit sign on the front of the building reads ‘ADMS.’ Paul whips the Hummer into a doublewide space to the right of Art’s Cadillac. Screech. It nearly rams a black Lamborghini parked in his space. Paul backs up and squeezes in next to it. He dismounts from the Hummer, tempted to slam his door against the tiny car as a thank you to the invader of his space. Instead, Paul marches into the building to vent his hostility.

  Art’s office is an art gallery of Pacific Northwest woodwork and a showroom for golf and sailing memorabilia, ADMS product awards and framed articles about the company through its ten year history. Art occupies a high-back leather chair at a huge pine desk with a computer workstation behind him. A brunette in high-end professional dress sits facing Art, in the chair to his left. Paul pokes his head in.

  Art spins, taps the keyboard and spins again to face Paul. “There you are! Paul, I’d like you to meet our newest investor, Lorelei Andressen.”

  Art’s printer whirs as Lorelei stands. She turns to face Paul. They share a moment of soul recognition so potent Art can feel it. “The legendary Paul Douglass,” she says as she steps toward him, extending a handshake, intending for him to admire her beauty.

  Paul keeps his eyes up. He takes her hand, lingering as their eyes connect. His mind flashes back to the moonlit Saturday night on his dock. “Have we met?”

  Art clears his throat. Lorelei slides her fingertips along his hand and out to his fingertips. “We have now.” She takes the chair to Art’s right.

  Paul understands her intent. By taking the chair to Art’s right, Lorelei tells him she’s his right hand, and he is not. Paul sits in the other chair and turns to face both of them. “Welcome aboard, Ms. Andressen.”

  She’s pleased to see he caught her first clue about what’s coming. “Please. Call me Lorelei.”

  Art grabs the printouts. “Sit, sit.” He fumbles with the documents as he addresses Paul. “Lorelei is acting as our intermediary. We have a deal on the table with New Century Digital Distribution.”

  Lore
lei repositions herself to give Paul a tempting view of her perfect body. “Jerry speaks of you,”

  “Yes, he does.” Paul sneaks a peak. She may be the most attractive woman he’s ever seen in his life. Oh my god. He looks away before succumbing to the desire to do a full body scan with his eyes.

  Lorelei smirks as she catches him looking. “You already know Jerry has the big money behind him now. He’s ready to step up and take on the big boys. He just needs the right platform.”

  Paul processes a flash recall of two years of fruitless trips to Los Angeles and videoconferences with Jerry and his management team. He lands on a vivid memory of their last meeting, where Jerry told Paul there was no deal. “I thought he did a deal with Microsoft.”

  “Don’t you know? They screwed him.” She laughs. “We all know he made the wrong choice.”

  Paul laughs with her. “Does that mean he’s ready to license our software? That’s…”

  Art interrupts. “They’re acquiring us. I want you to lead the negotiations.”

  Paul digests what this means to his corporate escape plan. Yes! “Lorelei, could we have a moment?”

  Lorelei and Paul stand in unison. “Of course.” Paul lets her walk ahead of him. She moves like a jungle cat in heat. A hardness grows between his legs. He slides behind the door and closes it behind her.

  Art signs pages of the printout and slides them in a manila envelope. Paul grabs the opportunity to sit down and hide his erection while Art is busy. “Art, I appreciate your confidence, but it’s customary for the CEO…”

  “We need a home run here.” Art hands Paul the envelope. “We’re promoting you to COO. The board allowed a cash bonus and a performance-based stock grant for closing the deal.” Art walks around the desk. “We’ll go over our game plan at dinner tonight. I need you to fly down with her in the morning for four days of meet-and-greets and requirements discussions. You’ll work with Jerry’s team to put together a presentation that destroys any remaining resistance from his management team.”

  Paul feels it’s safe to stand. He extends his hand. “Thank you, Art. I’ll get it done. You know I will.”

  Art glances toward the door where Lorelei waits outside. “I know I can count on your professionalism, Paul.” He shakes Paul’s hand. “Congratulations.”

  The men remain in a long, awkward silence as they both acknowledge the enormity of Paul’s challenge. Their financial futures lie in Paul’s and Lorelei’s hands. She’s the key to their success. And she is the most dangerous woman either of them has ever seen.

  Paul returns to the parking lot after a day of meetings with Art, Lorelei, the CFO and their legal counsel. Lorelei’s Lamborghini is gone. She left with Art to meet the ADMS original investors. Paul steers the Hummer out of his parking spot with one hand while he engages the hands-free smartphone. “Laura.”

  Her voicemail answers. “This is Laura. I’m busy right now. Talk to you later.”

  He knows the news will piss her off, so he cranks up the enthusiasm. “Laura! It’s happening! It’s happening! The big deal we’ve been waiting for. Art pulled me into a dinner meeting, so I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.” Followed by a dramatic pause and the mock regret he’s become so practiced at over the years. “Sorry about the appointment. I’ll reschedule, I promise.”

  Laura checks in at the front desk of the couple and family therapy office. Paul’s message pops up on her smartphone. She paces the waiting room, listening to another round of Paul’s excuses, shocked but not surprised that he’s blown her off again. Laura tells herself that the deal is important and she’ll get her husband back when it’s over. But she doesn’t believe it.

  Barbara, the therapist, opens the door into the waiting room. She’s graying but still vital, with a relaxed look highlighted by jeans and a flannel shirt. “Hi Laura. Are you ready?”

  A wave of emotions overtakes her. “He’s not coming.” Laura stuffs her smartphone in her bag. She looks back and further between the exit and Barbara’s office, unable to decide what to do about Paul’s absence.

  “Let’s talk then, just you and me.” Barbara invites Laura in. “Do you want to tell me about what you’re feeling?” Barbara asks.

  “Yes,” Laura replies. She settles in on the couch. Laura lays her free hand on her heart, takes a few deeps breaths, and then caresses her belly. “I feel like I’m caught in a storm and I can’t escape. I need help to sort out all these emotions.”

  Paul drinks in The Capital Grille’s decor. This distinctive, wood-paneled establishment is a favorite of Seattle’s wealthy and her captains of industry. Paul has met clients here for dinner many times over the years, but tonight he feels different. For the first time, he feels like he belongs here.

  Art chats up the investors at the bar. Paul feels himself drawn to Lorelei, who sits alone at a table for two. She invites him over with a come hither look masked in professional demeanor. She smiles a mischievous grin as Paul hands up his coat and sits down with her.

  The waiter delivers a bottle of 2005 Quilceda Creek Cabernet Sauvignon. President Barack Obama served this Washington state wine at a White House dinner for President Hu Jintao of China. As the waiter pours Lorelei a taste test, Paul wonders if Lorelei knew he knows this historical fact about the wine.

  She approves. The waiter fills her wine glass. Paul puts a hand over his glass before the waiter can pour. “I’m on a health kick,” he says to Lorelei.

  “You’re passing on the Quilceda cab, Paul? I’m surprised.” With a look, she sends the waiter away. Lorelei looks straight in Paul’s eyes, all business. “This is happening fast. I need to know where you stand.”

  Paul fights not to lose himself in her emerald green eyes, the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees no sign of seductive intent. “I know Jerry. I’ll close the deal.”

  Lorelei takes her time to savor the cab. She enjoys watching Paul’s lust for the wine grow with each sip she takes. “Are you going to have a problem letting go?”

  Paul laughs. He reflects on all the times he’s approached the pinnacle of success, only to have one of Art’s missteps drag him back down to the bottom of the mountain. “Do I have to sign an employment contract?

  She slides the wine bottle closer to him. “Jerry wants you to stay on,” Lorelei reveals. “But it’s not a deal breaker.”

  Paul glares at Art over at the bar, unable to mask his disdain. “I won’t have a problem letting go.”

  His response piques her curiosity. “You have plans,” Lorelei probes.

  He looks over at Art again to make sure he’s out of audible range. “Can I trust you with a secret?”

  “We need to trust each other to get this deal done,” she replies in a voice at once matter-of-fact and seductive. “Let’s start now.”

  Paul smiles. “I’m thinking about buying a boat.”

  “You are,” Lorelei laughs. “I’ll call you Sailor, then. As a pet name.”

  That was an odd comment. He counters. “What do you know about mermaids?”

  She blinks and smiles, a perfect act of innocence. She’s had centuries to practice the undetectable lie. “Hmmm. I doubt you’ll find any mermaids around here. Unless you take a stash of Starbucks aboard your boat.” She flashes her shy girl look. “Truth be told, I kind of have a thing for mermaids. It’s a passion.” She leans closer and whispers, “I’ll trust you with a secret. I’m an honorary member of the secret Seattle mermaid society.” She shifts the tone of her voice to an ever-so-subtle siren’s call. “Come on over to the house sometime, Sailor. I’ll show you my art collection.”

  Her voice entrances Paul. His mind tries to reconcile her story with his mermaid encounter on the dock at home. He wills his mind back to focus. I must have been hallucinating. “Lorelei, I’m all in. Whatever it takes to close this deal. You have my word.”

  “Good.” She pours Paul a glass of wine. “Then it’s settled. Here’s to closing the deal together.” Lorelei
lifts her wine glass to invite a toast.

  Following her lead, and out of habit, Paul lifts his glass to meet hers. They drink together. Paul licks his lips. “Wow. That’s good.”

  Lorelei summons the waiter. “Could you bring us another bottle?”

  The Hummer skids to a stop in the Douglass driveway. Paul leaps out and runs into the house with the envelope and a dozen roses. “Laura! Laura! Where are you?” He finds her sitting with a cup of tea and an attitude. “Are you ready for this? I got it! The promotion. And—”

  Laura launches off of the couch. “Why did you miss our appointment?” She ignores the flowers, checks his eyes, and gives him the smell test. “No fucking way. How much alcohol did you have?” The toxic swirl stirs in her belly.

  “You’re looking at the new COO of Advanced Digital Media Solutions.” Paul hands her the flowers. “Come on. I just got promoted. I left you a message.”

  Now she’s pissed. “No.” Laura throws the flowers across the room. She steps up toe-to-toe with him, focusing her anger on his face. “I’m done playing hide-and-seek with you.”

  Her anger sets Paul off. “I’m not hiding anything. I’m working my fucking ass off to make us rich. You live in a palace, you don’t have to work, you get to follow your dream… all at my expense.”

  “Here we go again.” She steps away and paces the room to dissipate her anger. “Paul, you’re lying to yourself. I’m not buying this ‘all at my expense’ bullshit for a second. You love this madness. You’re an addict.”

  After years of arguing this point with Laura, Paul has nothing left to get angry about. He made peace with his inner addict long before his father died. In this moment, his grief catches up with him. “Why can’t you just enjoy my promotion with me?”

  She softens. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t care about all this shit. I want you. I want to have a life with you. I want to have our baby with you. But you’re never here.” Laura grabs a kerchief from her reading table and sobs.

  Paul paces the room, breathing out the grief and breathing in calmness. He hands her the envelope. “OK.”