Siren Hunter- the Curse Page 7

  “Elmo’s team has valid technical concerns about integration. Nothing unexpected. Our engineers will address them. Hal said Finance is throwing up roadblocks on the due diligence. They found anomalies in our financials.”

  Lorelei dismisses Paul’s concerns about Finance with a look. “Then the crew is on board?”

  “They will be by the time we’re done in Seattle. I’m concerned about Finance,” Paul admits. “I have no control there. Who knows what Art will do to fuck things up?”

  “I’ll take care of Finance, and Art,” Lorelei says. “I assume you have the party agenda all worked out.”

  Paul signals a thumb-up. “Done with one exception. I can’t get reservations at the Herbfarm. Too short of notice for that place.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Lorelei shifts gears. “Paul, there’s something we need to discuss. We agreed to trust each other.”

  Paul repositions himself in his seat, not sure what to expect. “Yes.”

  She smiles innocently. “I can’t help but notice that you’re attracted to me.”

  Holy shit. Paul tells her the truth. “You are a beautiful woman, Lorelei. Any man would be attracted to you.”

  She flashes a come hither look. “I’m not talking about any man. I’m talking about you.”

  Paul resists the temptation. He looks into her eyes. “Lorelei, we’re two professionals working together on a business deal. And you know I’m married.”

  Her green eyes sparkle with irresistible beauty. “I believe in open relationships.”

  He looks away. “My wife doesn’t.”

  She calls to him. “Do you?”

  He gets up from his seat and grabs two water bottles from the bar. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. It matters what I do. Or, in this case, don’t do.” He hands her a bottle and returns to his seat.

  Lorelei repositions herself in a Sharon Stone from Basic Instinct pose, spreading her legs ever so slightly so Paul can see she’s wearing no undergarments. “We all long to be free to express our desires. It’s our true nature. Fighting it only causes unnecessary pain.”

  Once again, Paul’s body shows he can no longer pretend he’s not interested. He disassociates. What the fuck? My life has become a Michael Douglas movie.

  She snaps her fingers to bring his attention back. “Paul, I’d like to share a secret with you. The secret of how we will close this deal together. It requires us to trust each other in a more intimate way. You want to close this deal, don’t you?”

  “More than anything,” he says, letting it slip without thinking.

  Lorelei sings. The siren song submerses Paul in the most intense feelings of longing and desire he’s ever experienced. He summons the full force of his will to resist burying his face between her legs. He visualizes Laura’s eyes. The lust subsides.

  “No,” he whispers. “I can’t.”

  A wave of human grief overtakes her. Thank you, sister Parthenope, for the lesson you taught us all. We will not allow our emotions for men to rule our actions. Lorelei reasserts her arrogance. I was right. This one is different. But he’s still a man. It’s time to weaken his will.

  Paul and Lorelei sit in silence for the rest of the flight. When the jet lands, they deplane and part ways without a word.

  The car driver pulls into the driveway of the Douglass home. Paul chose not to use Alexei this time, afraid of the confrontation he might face. He heads into the house and sets his bags down in the foyer. Paul looks for Laura and finds the bunny, alone. He pokes a finger into the cage to let the bunny sniff. “Where’s mommy?”

  Paul finds Laura asleep in bed. He exhales. Dodged that bullet. Paul disrobes and crawls into bed. He tries to relax, but he’s full of energy and wound up with tension and lust. He turns to face Laura. She’s out cold. Unable to settle in for sleep, he heads into the bathroom to relieve his tension. It takes less than a minute. Impressive, he thinks of his output, and realizes a line from Basic Instinct just replayed in his mind. One “s” instead of two. Maybe I’m related to Michael Douglas.

  Paul and Art face off in the 80-year-old Chelan Cafe under the bridge in West Seattle, their ritual breakfast spot for Saturday morning meetings and an after-breakfast stroll out the dock to check out the sound. This time, they’re meeting on a Friday morning.

  “I don’t trust her, Art. Are you sure Lorelei’s motives are in the best interests of the company?” He shovels a large forkful of eggs into his mouth to fortify himself and prepare for Art’s duck-and-dodge.

  Art shrugs. “None of our investors stepped up, Paul. I had no choice. Lorelei is our last and only chance.”

  Paul washes his mouth out with coffee before speaking. “Jerry became very agitated when I mentioned her name at dinner. I think he tried to warn me about her.”

  Art scoffs. “Jerry’s a lying sack of shit. He’s been fucking her for the last year, at least. Anna doesn’t know.”

  “How do you know?” Paul shovels another mouthful.

  An entranced smile takes over Art’s face. “Lorelei told me. That’s why I said yes to her investment.”

  Whoa. Jerry was right; I have no clue what I’m dealing with here. He seizes the moment. “Lorelei decided we’re flying Jerry’s core team up to Seattle. They’ll be here all next week. Their technical team has some concerns,” Paul says, braced for the pushback. He omits their ask for a 90-day trial.

  “Great!” Art exclaims. “Wine and dine the shit out of them while they’re here. Lorelei said they like the cannabis and cocaine. Do whatever it takes. You have an unlimited expense account.”

  “Really?” Paul’s surprised. Art’s never talked about drugs before today. “Don’t we need to give the staff a heads up?”

  “Leave that to me,” Art replies. His mood turns dark. “Paul, you have no idea what I’ve done to keep this company funded for the last two years while you built this relationship with New Century. This is life or death.”

  Paul consumes more food to cope with the wave of anxiety. The food calms him. He notices something strange. Art’s entranced state is obvious. But there’s more. Paul sees a vague outline of something oscillating around Art’s neck. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. Nothing there.

  “Make it happen. I need this deal closed in two weeks.” Art’s tone commands him with the same manipulative edge Paul’s heard in Lorelei’s voice.

  Paul swells with the familiar wave of rage. For the first time, it feels like the emotion belongs to someone else. Unable to process the cognitive dissonance, he contains the rage and draws power from it. “Lorelei told me her investment provided the bridge capital necessary to close the deal.”

  Art doesn’t blink. “We’re tapped out. One more payroll and we’re done,” he says, stone-faced.

  Paul can no longer contain the emotion. “No fucking way! What the fuck, Art? You put me in front of a business partner again with our finances in the shitter? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

  Everyone in the restaurant turns to stare at them. They sit for a few minutes. Art remains in an entranced state as feelings of devastation overtake Paul’s rage.

  Paul slumps his chair. “I can’t close this deal in two weeks.”

  Art slams his fist on the table. “You have to.”

  Paul sits up in his chair. “It’s not going to happen. We need another plan.”

  “Can you do it in thirty days?” Art asks.

  Paul’s mind shifts to analysis mode. “We can parallel path the contract while the nerds do their thing. What about due diligence?” Art’s entranced eyes stare back at Paul. “Art, their Finance has already raised concerns. You realize as soon as they pull our bank records, I’m fucked. Lorelei said she’d take care of it, but… What are you going to do?”

  “Let me worry about the money,” Art says. “You need to get in bed with Lorelei. Close the deal. You have thirty days.” Art digs into his breakfast to avoid any further conversation.

  Paul finishes his meal and his coffee. He didn’t
mean that literally, Paul assures himself. Then his mind replays the conversation with Lorelei on the jet. Or did he?

  Chapter Nine

  Laura and Paul sit together at their kitchen table. He said he wanted to talk to her, but he hasn’t said a word. She stirs her oatmeal and studies his non-verbal communication. “You’re acting weird,” she probes. “What’s going on?”

  Well, aside from the fact that my new business partner invited me to fuck her, I had the most voluminous orgasm of my life after I got home, and Art just told me to get in bed with her, nothing dear. Paul thinks about how to start the conversation they need to have. “Breakfast with Art was disturbing.”

  Laura frowns. “Is he meddling again?”

  Paul shakes his head. “ADMS is out of money. I have 30 days to close the deal, or we’ll go bankrupt.”

  She wasn’t expecting that answer. “Wow. What are you going to do?”

  He looks at her. “You’re not going to like it. Jerry’s team is coming to Seattle next week. It’s my job to wine and dine them.”

  Anger boils in her gut. “You’re right. I don’t like it.”

  Paul lets his desperation show. “I have no choice, Laura. ‘It’s life or death’ were the words Art used.”

  She thinks about it. “I wanted you to stop drinking, so you’d be sober for our therapy sessions.”

  “Despite the fallout with Barbara,” Paul asserts, “I intend to keep my commitment to you, Laura. When we’re done with this corporate nightmare, I will join you in couple therapy.”

  She sees he’s serious. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your determination. It shows me you love me.”

  He takes her hand and kisses it tenderly. “You know I do.”

  She lets it go for now. Laura fires up her laptop. “Remember the coffee shop with Ellen? I have more insights.”

  Paul takes the high road. “The business about ghosts and entities?”

  She opens up the file with her notes. “You know she’s convinced something supernatural happening in our lives. I’m agreeing with her.”

  Paul reflects on his experiences with Lorelei. “Our new business partner is eccentric, to say the least. This has been a weird fucking trip so far. Maybe she’s right.”

  She turns her laptop so Paul can see the screen. “I researched dysfunctional family trees, demonic possession, ancestral curses, myths and legends. The material that resonates most with our current experience is the mythology of sirens.”

  Sirens. Again. Paul thinks about Lorelei, Monica, Jerry’s house servant, and the woman who killed herself several years ago after Paul rejected her love. “Well, it would not surprise me if Hollywood is full of sirens. I may have met a few during my trips to L.A.”

  “You see that the German myth is about a siren named Lorelei,” Laura declares, looking to stir an emotional response. “Your new business partner’s name is Lorelei, right?”

  He reads her notes and studies the images she downloaded of the Loreley Rock in St. Goarshausen and the German mythology of sirens. Holy shit! I’ve seen that in my dreams. “What’s Ellen’s take?”

  “She’s stuck on demonic possession. It makes no sense.” That familiar toxic brew stirs in her gut, moving her into vulnerability. “What do we do, Paul?”

  “I’m still not convinced that sirens are real. But if they are, and they are fucking with us, I’ll figure out how to hunt them down and kill them.” He strikes a pose as a wind-battered seaman armed with a harpoon. “Don’t worry, Laura, I’ll protect you. I’m a siren hunter,” he declares, unaware that he just claimed his father’s destiny as his own. Erik’s presence overshadows him.

  Laura sees Erik’s eyes staring back at her through Paul. Now she understands those eyes are not Paul’s eyes. She tries to get a glimpse into Erik’s soul. Who are you?

  Erik retreats behind Paul’s eyes. Paul looks back at her, curious about her probing look. “What’s going on?”

  Laura says nothing. She buries her face in her computer screen as she finishes her oatmeal.

  I’m a siren hunter. The words echo in Paul’s mind. Yes you are, Erik confirms. This time, he experiences less cognitive dissonance between Erik’s thoughts and his own. Paul thinks about his father, and all the times he would disappear for weeks at a time. Robert only said one word to Paul or Roxanna about what he did on his trips. Business. But Paul wonders if he was hunting sirens on those trips.

  The Douglass couple spends a silent day apart, with Paul working in his office, and Laura working on her research. They head to bed together. Moonlight shining through the window creates an eerie glow in the bedroom. Laura falls asleep, exhausted after spending the entire day trying to figure out what’s going on in their lives. The stress of Paul’s trip wiped him out. He doesn’t need his Indica sleep aid tonight to drift tonight off to sleep. As he snores, the room fills with a supernatural buzz. He experiences another dream-memory as Erik.

  A room in a 16th century German inn overshadows Paul’s bedroom at home. Erik kisses Lorelei. She lets him untie her top. He growls. She moans. He drops his pants, turns her around, and lifts her skirt. “What are you doing?” Lorelei says. She spins to face him and claws his chest. As they fall into bed, Erik climbs on top of her. “You’re hurting me!” She tries to push him off, but she has no leverage. He pins her wrists and proceeds to his quick satisfaction, letting go when he’s finished. She squirms out from under him, slaps him, and says, “I’m not finished.” She pulls him back on top of her. They begin a slow rhythmic thrusting, eyes connected, moaning together as their passion builds and the thrusting intensifies until she climaxes.

  Paul awakens with a start, confused by his feelings. The supernatural buzz fades as the bedroom returns to normal. He looks around, terrified. He collects himself, realizing he’s at home in bed with Laura. A wet sensation grabs his attention. He winces and checks under the sheets. “Not good. Not good at all.” He gets up and changes his underwear.

  Chapter Ten

  Paul gets up before dawn, unable to sleep after his dream-memory from Erik’s life in St. Goarshausen. A powerful feeling calls him to the water. He gears up for boating, arming himself with Erik’s spyglass and his Vortex Recce Pro HD 8x32 waterproof HD monocular. Paul leaves a note for Laura. “Heading to the marina to rent a boat. Meeting Scott this afternoon. Back this evening.”

  Compelled by the siren call to come right away, Paul violates his own principles by taking a motorboat out onto Puget Sound. Speed and control are what he needs this morning. He clears the marina entrance and cranks the engine to full speed. As the boat hops through the water, recent moments echo in his mind. I will show you the way. I’ll protect you; I’m a siren hunter. “Siren hunter,” Paul says to himself. “I like how that sounds.”

  Paul cuts the engine near Possession Point, where he sailed with Laura, Jeannie and Art. With a flick of his wrist, he opens the spyglass to full extension. Paul scans the rocky shoreline where he thought he saw a naked woman. Just rocks this morning. He tracks up the cliff and the trees to find the faux castle turret in the mansion above the cliffs. Unable to get enough detail, he switches the spyglass for the HD monocular. He’s able to make out the outline of a person. Someone is watching him.

  On the edge of the turret, Lorelei spies on Paul through HD binoculars. She adjusts the focus until the two images of him appear as one. Lorelei grins. My Sailor is ready to play.

  “He answered your call?” Leucosia asks as she swirls her tail in the soaking tub.

  Lorelei sets down the binoculars and turns to her with a gleeful smile. “Yes, dear sister. I shall invite him for breakfast.”

  “Sister Brianne is visiting this morning,” Leucosia reminds her.

  Lorelei returns to the edge of turret and her binoculars. “I won’t allow him to see behind the curtain.”

  Leucosia lifts herself out of the water. She morphs into her human form and joins Lorelei on the precipice. “Remember your promise to me, sister.”

  “My
dear Leucosia, your mistrust dismays me.” Lorelei plants a kiss on her lips, disarming her. She strokes Leucosia’s hair and looks deep into her eyes as she reassures her. “We cannot rush this. This deal provides the final influx of capital we need to execute our plan. When I have achieved our goal, I will fulfill my promise.”

  Leucosia returns the soaking tub. Lorelei grabs her smartphone from the bench and dials Paul.

  Paul feels the vibration of his smartphone, but he sensed the incoming call before the vibration started. “This is Paul.”

  Lorelei waves to him from the edge of the turret. “Good morning, Sailor. It’s a fine day to be on the water, isn’t it?”

  His monocular provides just enough detail for him to see her arm moving. “That’s you up there watching me.”

  “Clever Sailor.” She sets down the binoculars. “It’s a good thing you’re here. We need to plan the crew’s visit. You must join me for breakfast at the mansion. I’ll meet you at the marina in Clinton.”

  Paul starts the engine. “Heading to Clinton now. Meet you there.” He ends the call and motors north to Clinton, a Puget Sound ferry terminal city and the gateway to southern Whidbey Island. “Breakfast at the mansion,” he says aloud. “I can’t wait to see this.”

  On arrival, he ties up the motorboat and heads toward the passenger pickup area. As he approaches, he recognizes the black Lamborghini Aventador from the first day he met with Lorelei at ADMS. The scissor door on the passenger side pops open. “Good morning, Sailor.” Her delighted smile invites him into the car.

  I guess she’s not pissed about the flight home. “Good morning, Lorelei.” He crams himself into the tiny car and wrestles the door closed. “Another borrowed vehicle?”

  “Oh no, this one is all mine. A gift from a grateful investor.” She fires up the engine and darts out of the passenger area onto 525 South towards the town of Possession.

  Paul pays close attention to her driving, learning by watching, and drinking in the sensations of her aggressive, professional style driving skills. “Sweet ride.”