Siren Hunter- the Curse Page 8

  “Play your cards right, Sailor, and I might even let you drive it,” she teases as they speed up through the forest towards the sirens’ home.

  The mansion is a cement and steel fortress built for wealthy recluses. Embedded with glass, stone and wood decoration, the structure has no windows at ground level. Sharp steel struts and barbed wire circumscribes the entire building above level one to protect expansive glass panes at level two. Faux castle turret extends above the roof in the back. Lorelei’s 5000 plus square foot home sits on over an acre of land and looks out of place in the surrounding forest. The overall effect screams of something foreboding that does not belong here, but the trees and a private cul-de-sac with no neighbors protect the secret.

  Lorelei pulls into a wide driveway with a four-car garage. Paul takes in the mansion. How much money does this woman have? The garage door opens. Inside, the only other vehicle is a black Mercedes limo. “You have your own limo. Of course you do.”

  “Every girl needs a limo for entertaining.” Lorelei pops the scissor doors open and slides out of the car. Paul pries himself out and follows her inside the mansion.

  Lorelei leads Paul through the art gallery that is the second floor of the sirens’ home. Chihuly glass works on luxurious hand-crafted wooden stands intermingle with furnishings and paintings of mermaids. At least a hundred pieces, ranging from Homer’s The Odyssey to The Little Mermaid, Victorian era and vintage 20th century advertising, indie art and Hollywood memorabilia, including a poster of Splash autographed by Daryl Hannah. “I told you I have a thing for mermaids,” she comments as he heads into the kitchen.

  Lorelei prepares coffee, croissants, and scrambled eggs with salmon, vegetables and avocado. Paul meanders from art piece to art piece. He comes across a glass display full of medieval gold coins. Paul studies them. Those are mine, Erik says.

  Lorelei recognizes Erik’s eyes overshadowing Paul’s. “There you are, my love!”

  Erik recedes, again leaving Paul wondering what just happened. Great. The man in my dreams is talking to me at Lorelei’s house. And Lorelei sees him too. I may be as crazy as she is, Paul concludes his tour in front of a framed certificate with Lorelei’s name embossed on it. “What’s this?”

  Lorelei giggles. “I told you, I am an honorary member of the secret Seattle Mermaid Society. I’m sure you’ve heard of us. We’re a viral sensation, you know.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen the video.” He circles the room one last time. Paul takes a seat and the breakfast bar. “I have to ask. What’s the backstory for all this?”

  “Well, as you know, I’m an investor. Artwork, sculpture, jewelry, coins, memorabilia… This collection is my guilty pleasure. What can I say? I’m a nerd. A girl’s got to do something with her allowance.” Lorelei presents two plates with fresh fruit garnishes, followed by large cups of coffee. She joins him at the breakfast bar.

  Paul devours his food. There’s a seasoning in the food that he’s never tasted before, but it brings the entire meal to life. He can’t get enough of it. “Wow, this is fantastic.”

  Over the centuries, Lorelei learned how to use wild crafted herbs to prepare sumptuous food that stimulates the body and senses in a variety of ways to serve her purposes. Today, she wants to impress Paul with her many talents, to amplify his fascination with her and lead him one step closer to their union. “What can I say? I’m an artist in the kitchen. And other places.”

  Paul ignores the flirtation and finishes his breakfast. “Okay, let’s talk about next week. As I mentioned, I have a line-up of places to take them for food, drink and other indulgences. Any known likes or dislikes?”

  “Monica is a club ho. She’ll give you a list of places she wants to go. The boys will tag along, they’re all too happy to enjoy her show. Donny is a whiskey man. Elmo and Monica enjoy beer and cannabis. Dandridge will go along whatever they want. You can use my limo.”

  Paul looks at his empty plate, wanting more. “I made reservations at the Palisade for Friday dinner. What’s the plan for Friday night?”

  “Perfect. I have something special planned for after dinner. It’s a surprise.” She replenishes his plate. “You’ll give them a tour of the entertainment tech offices in town? They need to see who the players are.”

  Paul starts round two. “From the Amazon Spheres to Vulcan Studios with every major entertainment brand and disruptor in between. I’ll blow them away.”

  She finishes her plate and goes for seconds. Transforming between her mermaid and human forms requires a lot of fuel. “Excellent. How about your team at the office?”

  “I met with Art Friday morning, he said he’d take care of it.” Paul recalls the weirdness of Art’s behavior during their breakfast. “He was only concerned about the wine and dine plans. I’m afraid he may be a wild card.”

  Lorelei’s not concerned. “I have Art under control. Have you talked to Scott?”

  Paul finishes plate two. He checks the kitchen and her plate to see if he has a shot at round three. Nope, they finished it all off. He grabs another croissant. “I’m meeting him this afternoon. Any concerns to address?”

  She takes their plates into the kitchen and rinses them off, checking to make sure he’s fascinated by her show. “When we get the green light from New Century, we need him ready to act quickly.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Paul says with confidence. “His firm always gets it done.”

  Lorelei returns to the breakfast bar and locks eyes with him. “Okay. Sounds like we have all our sirens in a gossip.”

  Sirens in a gossip? He decides not to ask. “Yep. Ready as we’ll ever be.”

  She lifts her coffee cup. “A toast. To turning the crew into raving ADMS fans that will compel Jerry’s management into doing this deal.”

  “Cheers.” Paul taps her cup.

  Lorelei feels Brianne’s arrival. She looks up to the ceiling, leading Paul’s attention as she sings a nearly inaudible song to entrance Paul and connect him with Brianne’s feelings.

  Leucosia soaks with Brianne in the tub atop the faux castle turret. She’s one of the most promising new familiars in the local siren gossip, a red-haired, green-eyed package of savvy, smarts and sex. Her unabashed greed for the rich life led her here. Brianne used her assets to work her way into the wealthy circles where Lorelei conducts business. One meeting with the sirens was all it took for her to join the gossip.

  Brianne strokes Leucosia’s tail, awe-struck. “Do you think it will ever be possible for me?”

  “My dear Brianne,” Leucosia responds, “that is our dream and our destiny. One day we will liberate the Sirenian gene in all humans who bear it and claim our rightful place as the ruling race on this planet.”

  “Where are all our sisters and brothers?” Brianne asks.

  Leucosia takes her hands. “I will tell you our story. It begins in Atlantis, where their military attempted to enslave us, to use our gifts to fight their wars. After the Great Flood and the fall of Atlantis, our survivors scattered across the Earth. The humans who survived worshipped and celebrated our kind. Our two species cross-bred. But some of us were so damaged by the Atlantean war machine, they could not embrace the humans. They hunted them for sport and ate them for food. Our males were all killed. In the medieval times, the Europeans branded our females as witches and the genocide continued.” The overwhelming grief crushes her soul, and she sobs.

  Brianne wipes the tears from her face and strokes her hair. Leucosia steels her will and continues. “As far as we know, I am the only Sirenian that exists in her original body. An ancient prophecy tells us that an original gossip still survives. But we’ve searched the world for them without success, and we’ve lost hope. So we continue on through the efforts of six of our sisters, Sirenian spirits who learned to exist in time beyond physical form. They inhabit the bodies of humans with the Sirenian gene, to help me continue our mission to resurrect the Sirenian race. Lorelei is one of them. She and the others work tirelessly to gather the capital we need
to fund the resurrection.”

  Brianne digests the story. She’s deeply moved. “So that’s why Lorelei does what she does!”

  “Yes, dear sister Lorelei is devoted to our cause.” Leucosia reveals her concern. “I do not understand the difficulties she faces, being a Sirenian in a human body, limited in her abilities and vulnerable to human emotions. I see how it pains her. I can provide no relief.”

  Brianne studies the mermaid tail sharing the tub with her. “How is Lorelei able to transform?”

  Leucosia smiles with pride. “One of Lorelei’s many abilities. She learned how to activate the Sirenian gene with her mind. With each new host, she must train the human form to obey her will, and she’s become very good at it.”

  “Oh, I so want to learn how,” Brianne declares. “The ways of humans are so painful, sister Leucosia. They continue to destroy our home in the water. I pledge my life to restoring Sirenian rule over the Earth.”

  Leucosia cradles Brianne’s lovely face in her hands. “You have a strong mind, dear sister. You will learn, in time. And you will help us fulfill our destiny.”

  Ecstatic, Brianne gives her a grateful kiss. One kiss leads to another. Leucosia sings between kisses, stoking their mutual desire, mesmerizing Brianne as a primal lust takes her over. Leucosia teaches Brianne how mermaids make love.

  Paul hears the ever-so-faint sound of Leucosia’s song. It sets him on fire. Leave this place, Erik says. Right now. “Lorelei, thank you for breakfast and the tour of your art gallery. I need to head back to Seattle to meet Scott.”

  She moves at amazing speed to block his passage back to the garage. “Are you sure, Sailor? I have more to show you downstairs.”

  I’ll bet you do. Paul reaches deep inside to call forth the strength of will that enabled him to escape her last seduction attempt. “We agreed I should meet with Scott today. I’ve got to go now.”

  “You’re right.” She feigns disappointment. “I’m not letting you off the hook, though. I will show you my private collection another time.” Paul heads for the garage. Lorelei follows, reveling in the effect of Leucosia’s song on him. “Okay, Sailor, back to the water you go.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Paul sits alone at a trendy Georgetown watering hole south of Seattle downtown. Young professionals and folks from all walks of life pack the place, enlivening it with energetic conversations. He watches the systematic rotation of the female servers, as the tables that spend the most money get the most attractive ones and the misers get the plain ones.

  Scott Pressman enters the bar. Paul’s friend, since their university days, is a trust fund baby whose chiseled good looks have faded with time and his party lifestyle. A partner in Pressman, Pressman and Holt, LLP, the law firm that handles all of ADMS’s business. Scott’s father, the owner of the firm, is the largest individual investor in ADMS.

  Scott looks for Paul and eyes the ladies. What he may have lost in looks, he’s gained in charm. The ladies are interested. “There he is, the Hollywood kid, bringer of our fortune.” He gives Paul a hearty handshake. The waiter arrives as Scott settles in. “Three doubles. Jack and coke, sir.”

  Paul stops the waiter. “Just coke for me.”

  “Another no drinking edict?” Scott asks. “And in the home stretch. Harsh.”

  Paul shakes his head. “The New Century crew flies in on Monday. Preserving my liver for the assault to come.”

  Scott scans the room. He’s looking for someone. “So, how do you like working with Lorelei?” Scott asks in a salacious tone.

  “Fucking Art,” Paul says with bitter resentment. “God, I am so done with that fool.”

  Scott sees right through the smokescreen. “You didn’t answer my question. Admit it. You want to fuck her.” The waiter delivers the drinks. “You can’t help it. She’s a siren.”

  The question piques Paul’s interest. “What makes you say that?”

  Scott sips one of the Jack and cokes. “You didn’t study the classics at the Foster School of Business? I did.”

  “I know the story.” Paul’s done with other people using myth to interpret his experiences for him. “Homer’s The Odyssey. Don’t open that bag of wind. Don’t destroy for meat the oxen of the exalted sun.”

  “Odysseus was in the home stretch of his long journey home when he sailed past the coast of the sirens,” Scott says.

  “Odysseus escapes,” Paul reminds him.

  “The sirens’ sweet song was so enchanting that no man could resist…” Scott speaks from experience.

  Paul remembers Alexei’s warning. “She’s not irresistible.”

  “And mariners were lured to their own destruction on the rocky shoreline,” Scott says with a finality that reflects the peace he’s made with his own inevitable path to self-destruction.

  “I have wax in my ears, and I’m strapped to the mast,” Paul insists. “What’s your point?”

  Scott holds up his drink to remind Paul of their many tours of duty at the bar together. “I’ve known you for a long time. You’ve pursued wealth with a vengeance, and this is our last chance to cash in on ADMS.” He takes a serious tone. “As your lawyer, I advise you to focus on the money until the deal is done.” And he smirks. “Then you can fuck her.”

  Paul gulps his coke. “This is not the conversation Lorelei asked us to have.”

  Scott scoffs. “I know what she wants. A quick turnaround on contract changes. There’s nothing to talk about. You know I got you. Pressman, Pressman and Holt has you covered.” He scans the room until he finds what he’s been looking for. His whole demeanor changes.

  Paul follows Scott’s eyes to Brianne, her assets squeezed into a red-and-white striped cotton one-piece. Lust in a candy wrapper. All eyes in the bar are on her as she saunters over to join them.

  But instead of Brianne, Paul sees Lorelei walking toward him. He blinks.

  Scott snaps him out of it. “Paul, meet Brianne.” Scott hands her the drink he ordered for her.

  Brianne takes a sip of the drink. She sets it down and gives Scott a tongue kiss. As she finishes, Brianne offers Paul a generous look at her endowments, flashing her green eyes and an inviting smile. She bites her lip. Paul looks away. Brianne slides a vial of white powder from between her cleavage and flashes it to Scott. He draws Paul’s attention with a kick to the shin. She heads toward the bathroom.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Paul whispers. “No one does that shit anymore.”

  “Not true. Even Puget Sound salmon test positive for cocaine.” Scott points Paul to the bathroom with his eyes. “Come on. She’s a very good girl. I’ll never tell.”

  Paul checks his watch. “Laura’s on her way,” he lies.

  “Married people.” Scott darts across the bar to join Brianne. He disappears into the women’s bathroom.

  Paul wipes sweat from his upper lip as he imagines them doing lines together before she gets down on her knees to service him. The image redraws in his mind to show Scott getting down on his knees to service her. He chugs the rest of Scott’s drink, then Brianne’s. Paul chugs the rest of his coke and a glass of water to dilute the alcohol.

  The bunny watches Paul return to the house. He hunts for Laura with an urgency born of lust. He finds her in the kitchen, preparing tea. Paul walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her. He rubs his cheek against her hair. “Where have you been?” she asks, caught by surprise.

  His hands cup her breasts as he nuzzles her neck. “Just what my note said.”

  “Slow down there, Sailor,” she says, unaware of her use of Lorelei’s pet name. Paul’s life force is compelling. At first, her mind overrides the feeling, as she suspects the mixture of sea air and alcohol is motivating his actions. As he continues, she feels animal desire radiating from his touch. It sets her on fire. Paul takes her into his arms and kisses her. Their passion builds. They make their way to the bedroom.

  Paul opens Laura’s robe and pulls down her bra straps. “Slowly,” she instructs.

 
; “Sorry.” He kisses her gently. She lets him remove her bra. He growls. She moans. He drops his pants, turns her around, and yanks her panties down.

  “What are you doing?” Alarmed, Laura spins to face him and rubs her hands over his heart. Paul takes a breath and tries to center himself. As they fall into bed, Paul 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 jumps off the bed. Before he can grab her, Laura retreats into the bathroom and locks the door. She wraps herself in her bathrobe. Paul’s fists rage against the bathroom door until it splits in two. Laura looks at him, shaking, vulnerable, struggling to process what just happened.

  He reprimands her in Erik’s voice. “Do not deny your husband his right to satisfaction.” Paul backs away and takes a seat across the room.

  Laura pulls the bathroom door pieces aside, so she can exit. She looks into his eyes. Erik’s eyes. The eyes that evoke the terror she’s lived with for the last year. “I can’t do this anymore.” She marches out, slamming the bedroom door as she leaves. Paul remains seated, a figure in stone, the Rhine River storm of 1539 raging in his eyes.

  The next morning, Paul enters the kitchen as Laura types into her laptop. His fishing knife lies next to her on the table. Laura tracks him as he prepares coffee. When he moves toward her, her hand moves toward the knife.

  “What’s going on?” Paul asks.

  Laura grabs the knife and subdues him, the knife at his throat ready to sever his carotid artery. One swift and fluid move for a pregnant woman. A move she learned in Krav Maga class. “Are you really asking me that question?”

  “Yes,” Paul says, fearing for his life. He did not know she could do that.

  She removes the knife from his throat and holds it out in front of her, prepared for retaliation. She backs away to the other side of the table. “Ellen’s right. You are possessed.”