The Siren Job (Stolen Hearts Crew Book 1) Read online

  “I sold blood for three months,” Fishnet Shirt piped up. Ministry T held out his fist for a bump. The two laughed and pounded out their solidarity in Glory, long may she reign.

  Becky rescued me. “Ella will see you now. Come on back.”

  I exhaled my relief and followed her to the back room.

  Walking into Mom’s back room was like walking into a Victorian womb. The walls were a deep blood red. Electric candles flickered on small floating shelves staggered along the back of the room, lending a warm glow. It was soothing. Calm. Cozy. Just what I needed.

  The art on the walls was Victorian, too. Framed calling cards, delicate watercolors of flowers and fields. There was a long ornately carved antique sideboard with a white lace runner, covered in crystal balls and loose tarot cards arranged in an arcane still life. Until today, I’d always found them hokey, even a little funny. Today, they made me shudder.

  The round table in the center of the room was covered with more white lace. A small china teapot sat in the center, with two dainty white china cups on delicate saucers. Steam drifted from the spout of the pot.

  Mom rose from her seat at the far side of the table. Her mouth hung slack, her eyes wide, her face pale.

  “Oh my baby, what happened to you?” she gasped, rising and closing the gap, wrapping me in her arms before I could catch a breath to speak.

  It all came crashing down. I was sobbing into her neck like a lost child. I was her lost child. This was the one person in the world I’d let see me like this. And goddamn, did I need it.

  She guided me gently to the table and sat me down without breaking her grip on me. Her hand cradled the back of my head, pressing my face into her ample chest. She stood there, absorbing my tears, shushing me softly, running her hand over the back of my head through the wig.

  “Who hurt you, baby?” she whispered.

  It wasn’t the question I was expecting. It startled me enough to sniffle back the sobs and pull my head back to look at her. The front of her green peasant blouse was stained black from my eye makeup. I’d have felt guilty if I wasn’t so confused.

  “Mom?” I slapped my hands over my mouth and looked around the room.

  She picked up my concern and shook her head. “I didn’t let them bug this room. Client confidentiality.”

  I let my hands drop. “Mom, what are you talking…?”

  She reached out a hand and slipped her fingers under my chin, tipping my face up to look her in the eye. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “There’s a darkness there. A darkness I know, but not your darkness. Not the one you usually carry.” She sat down, knee to knee with me, and took my hands in hers. “You’ve touched it. Or been touched by it. And yes, you know what I’m talking about.”

  There was something in her eyes. A knowing. And I knew that she’d believe me, no matter how crazy it sounded.

  So I told her. I told her about Glory. About the scroll. About the mists, and the glowing, and the words that burned into my soul.

  The words…

  As I spoke, I felt them, coiling in my chest.

  I could feel them inside me.

  The twisting, writhing sigils, binding my soul, then freeing it.

  But the marks remain.

  The words remain.

  The power remains.

  I remain…

  Mom’s hands went slack, her eyes wide with fear. Color drained from her face, replaced by a faint glow.

  No. She wasn’t glowing.

  I was.

  “Oh, my baby,” she breathed.

  I looked over her shoulder at my reflection in an antique mirror. My heart screeched to a stop. My eyes shone with a sickly greenish light. The light from the mist. The light that burned the words into me. It was inside me.

  She calls.

  She calls to her children.

  She calls them to feast. Feast on you.

  Her power grows.

  The power of the gods beyond.

  The power of the blood moon.

  Her moon.

  The…

  “Get it out,” I begged. “Get it out, get it out, get it out…” My hands gripped my mother’s tight enough to bruise.

  Mom forced a poker face and made gentle shushing noises as she wrenched her hands free. She reached under the tablecloth and opened a drawer in the side of the table.

  What happened next is a blur. She moved faster than I’d ever seen her move, pressing something ice cold and blazing hot into the center of my chest. With her other hand, she stifled my scream, her hand gripping my face painfully tight.

  The light in my eyes dimmed, then vanished.

  The searing pain in my chest remained.

  When she was sure I was done screaming, she let her hands drop.

  I looked down at my chest. There was smoke drifting up from the scorched fabric of my t-shirt. Actual smoke.

  “M…Mom?” I whimpered, staring up at her.

  She held up a small brass amulet. It wasn’t a brand. It wasn’t even warm. It rested in the palm of her hand, cool, seemingly harmless. It was a simple, minimal design, a single curved line with three branches curving up on the top, two on the bottom, like a skeletonized leaf. I looked back down at my chest and gingerly shoved the charred fabric aside, widening the hole in my shirt to look at the reddened flesh beneath.

  Mom closed her hand around the amulet and gazed at me with profound sorrow. “My baby. I’m so sorry.”

  “What was that?” I poked at the leaf-shaped burn.

  “An Elder Sign,” she said, turning the amulet over in her hands. “It can protect against magic, but only so much.” She held it out to me. I flinched away. She reached out a hand, grasped mine, turned it over, and placed the amulet in my palm, closing my fingers around it. It was unnaturally cool, but did not burn. “You need to wear it. It should stop…what just happened.”

  “Mom, what just happened?” The world was spinning a little too fast. One minute, my mother was a flaky tea leaf reader, the next she was burning me with Elder Signs and sounding an awful lot like she knew what was going on a little too well for my liking.

  She reached over and poured two cups of tea. She pushed one closer to me. “Your father told me the risks. He…” She picked up her cup and held it in both hands, gazing into the amber liquid as though it held all the answers. “He didn’t want me to have you. Said it was too dangerous. That our love was one thing, but creating a life from that love would be too powerful, too unpredictable.” She looked up at my wounded face. “That was the first time I told him to leave.”

  A lump formed in my throat. Until I found out about his betrayal, I’d always thought he’d loved me. I knew I loved him. Every time he came home from his business trips, I’d fly into his arms, chattering and singing and showering him with kisses. Even when I was grown. Even as a teenager. And he’d kiss me back, and tell me…

  “He came around. Please, please don’t get me wrong, my baby. He loved you with everything he had.” She set her teacup down and took my hands in hers again. “He loved you. But, he knew there was something inside you. Something powerful. Something he didn’t understand, that he’d been taught to fear by his…family.”

  I swallowed back the lump and looked her square in the eye. “Mom, about his family…”

  I could see that flicker of fear return. “Sweetheart, his family was…”

  “Was Dad a shifter?”

  I let the words drop and watched them hit Mom like a blow to the stomach. She winced, then blanched again.

  I closed my eyes. “No. No, Mom, you were supposed to say ‘What’s a shifter?’ You were supposed to laugh at me.” My eyes squeezed tighter. “You weren’t supposed to tell me that I’m not human.”

  “You are.” Her voice was impassioned, her fingers tightening painfully around mine. “You are my child. You are a beautiful, wonderful girl. Never doubt that. David said that if you didn’t shift by thirteen, you wouldn’t shift at all. You are human.”

  I pulled my
hands back and buried my face in them, suddenly weary to the bone. “No, Mom. I’m a half-breed. The non-shifting kind, but a half-breed.”

  “Who taught you that word?” Mom sounded pissed. “No one’s going to make my daughter feel like half of anything.”

  “Mom…”

  “Your father’s family wanted you dead. Said you were dangerous. The child of a mage and a shifter would be too powerful to contain…”

  “MOM!”

  She stopped ranting and met my eyes, forcing calm upon herself.

  “You’re a mage?” Her words clicked. My jaw dropped.

  She bowed her head. “My family… we keep certain traditions.” Her hand strayed to the teapot, fiddling with the lid. “We can sense the edges of the energies. We use them respectfully. We live on the fringes of the Great Power Beyond the Stars, but we never push past that. Never to the dark places. We don’t take more than we are willing to give.”

  I pressed my fingertips to my mouth, suppressing a frustrated scream. “Mom, speak English.”

  Mom’s eyes flicked up to take in my exasperated expression. “Sorry. What I’m trying to say is, yes, I know magic. Real magic. Magic that draws on a power beyond what most people see as reality. It comes from a space beyond our world. And if used improperly, it can do very destructive, very bad things. My family’s always been careful.” She pondered her words carefully. “It’s like when we’d go on nature hikes. ‘Take only photos, leave only footprints’?”

  I arched a brow at her. “Okaay…?”

  “We only take as much magic as we are willing to give back to the universe. All magic…all human magic has its cost. We burn herbs. We bend metal into amulets. Sometimes, we give of ourselves.” As she said that, I noticed the deep circles forming beneath her eyes. She saw my worried look and waved it off. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”

  I swallowed my concern and pressed on. “But other mages don’t follow those rules.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. “Some don’t. Some people let it go to their heads. The old families, the ones who seized a lot of power and have built up troves of artifacts, they grew rich and powerful. And they try to get more.” She shook her head. “They grasp and grasp until they reach too far. Then they burn out. Often spectacularly. They go insane, or they die. But, in the process, they take a lot of people out with them. Innocent people.” The sorrow returned to her face as she reached out her hand to touch my arm. “You can sacrifice a lot more than a handful of herbs. And they do.”

  “Glory tried to sacrifice me.”

  “She did.” I could see her holding back both tears and maternal rage.

  I met Mom’s eyes with a strange feeling of strength. “But I was stronger.”

  Mom blinked, then smiled. “That’s my baby.”

  I pushed back my chair and rose shakily to my feet. “I need to go. I need to stop her. Before she tries this on anyone else.”

  “Sweetheart, how do you think you’re going to do that?” Mom asked, clutching at my hand. “Stay here. Hide here. You don’t have the resources to take her on.”

  I chewed at my lower lip. “I don’t. But I might know someone who does.”

  I blinked my eyes to adjust to the brighter light of the Little Leaves tearoom. Nothing had changed, even though everything had changed. The customers were engrossed in their own little worlds, completely oblivious to my world being shattered.

  “Oh Em Gee, did you see?”

  “That’s a lot of money. This chick must’ve done something terrible to her.”

  “She’ll pay. The Thousand Young will find her, and Glory won’t even have to spend a dime. We’ll consume her.”

  The tableful of Glory fans was riled. I pulled my hoodie closer around my face and glanced over at the two cops. They looked grim as they stared at their phones.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  Su3bus: Lex, I’m sorry. Get out of town. Out of the country. Just go. Fast as you can.

  Su3bus: They’re gonna find you. And they’re gonna kill you.

  Su3bus: I’m sorry.

  The next text was a link to Glory’s FaceSpace page.

  It was a wanted poster. My face. A reward of a— I choked for a second— a million dollars, for information leading to my whereabouts. Not my capture. Just my location. So she could find me. And talk to me.

  I just want to understand why she did it. Why she betrayed my trust. I don’t want the dress back. I don’t want her to go to jail. I just want to talk to her, woman to woman. Please, help me make that happen.

  My chest felt heavy. I had a sneaking suspicion how that conversation would go. It wasn’t something I was going to walk away from. Listening to her fans, I doubted that she’d even get the chance to kill me herself.

  A wave of panic drove the breath out of me. I had no place to go. Nowhere to run. I looked at the cops. I might be safer with them.

  No. Rage shoved the anxiety out of my chest. I am not going down. Not like this. That bitch doesn’t get to hurt me anymore. She doesn’t get to hurt anyone else.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the card I’d found tucked in the strap of my bra the night before. How he’d gotten it there, I had no idea, but I was glad I kept it.

  AlexMartin092: We need to meet.

  LuxeLife: Is that all you need?

  I paused and thought about it for a moment. My fingers tightened around my phone.

  AlexMartin092: I need my life back.

  LuxeLife: Can’t help you there.

  My chest tightened a little at that. The shittiest part was, I knew he was right. No one could get that back for me. Not now. Not ever.

  “If Glory wants her, we’ll get the bitch for her. She’ll never know what hit her.” Goth Lolita sipped her tea with a look of smug confidence. “We’re everywhere.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  AlexMartin092: I want payback. Mother Glory needs to go down.

  I stared at my phone, willing him to respond.

  LuxeLife: Now that I can do.

  Chapter Nine

  I leaned back in my seat at the open-air cafe, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Mom’s fistful of cash had bought me a new, less conspicuous look. A shoulder-length blonde wig, a blue suit with a blazer and white silk shell, tasteful makeup with maybe a touch too much eyeliner, and the Clark Kent of all disguises, a pair of tortoiseshell specs. I looked like every normal office drone out there. Even Trixie wouldn’t recognize me.

  I felt a pang as I thought about Trixie. Intellectually, I knew she hadn’t wanted to make that poster and sell me out. It was her job. But still, it felt like a dagger to the gut. At least she warned me. It was cold comfort.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  I jumped about an inch, then faked a relaxed smile. “Please, join me.”

  As if my heart wasn’t racing enough, Luxe was even sexier than Andres. His clothing choices were remarkably similar. The shirt was red Egyptian cotton instead of pastel silk, but the black pants were still tailored to give him the perfect cut waist and a breathtaking ass. It was the demeanor, though. The confidence in his smile, the sparkle in his bright blue eyes, the hint of swagger in his walk.

  He eased himself into the seat across from me, folded his hands in front of him on the table, and cocked a brow. “You look…nice.”

  I blew a strand of wig out of my eye and activated the bitch face.

  He chuckled. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” He leaned in slightly. “I like the old look better.”

  I frowned. “Me too. I’d like to get back to it, one of these days.”

  He laced his fingers together, then turned them out for a preparatory stretch. “Well, then. Let’s see what we can do.”

  “Is this really the best place to do this?” I whispered.

  Luxe looked around us. There were a handful of other people sitting out on the patio. Two men sat a few tables away from us, deep in a movie pitch. Three women sat at the opposite corner, deep in a
girls’ afternoon out, complete with wine and exaggeratedly loud conversation. “Do they look like they’re paying us any attention?”

  My bitch face eased into neutral. “No,” I admitted.

  He reached his hands across the table and placed them over mine. He met my startled face with a smoldering grin.

  “And now we’re on a date.” He stroked the backs of my hands with his thumbs and leaned in closer. “We can talk as close as we want, and no one will notice or care, because we’re doing what normal people do when they’re on a date.”

  A shiver went down my spine, working its way between my legs. I clenched my teeth and willed my whole body to stop trembling. If he noticed, Luxe didn’t say anything.

  I met his lean with one of my own, resting my elbows on the table. He smiled and cupped my hands between his.

  “I have some questions,” I said in a low voice.

  He gazed deep into my eyes. “Ask away.”

  I forgot the questions.

  Dammit, Alex.

  I shook myself back to reality. “Who are you people?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked into a mischievous grin. “We rob from the rich and give to the poor?”

  I arched a brow. He sobered slightly.

  “Okay, the truth. We take arcane artifacts and give them to someone who disposes of them before they can harm innocent people. Like you.”

  I snorted softly. “Well, you fucked that one up.”

  He gave a snort of his own, bowing his head slightly in defeat. “Yeah. Yeah, we did. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” He met my eyes again. “We didn’t know about you. Well, we knew about you as a badass academic, but we didn’t do enough research into you beyond that. He should have caught the family connections before we had to rescue you. We’ll flog Kit for his transgressions.”

  “Why Kit?”

  Luxe shrugged. “He’s our hacker. He researches everyone involved with a job. Everyone. The housecleaning staff, the security guards, the admins…” There was a flicker in his eyes at the word “admin.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Raul.” It was an accusation.

  He looked like a kid with his hand caught in the candy dish. “Again, sorry about that. We needed a distraction, and we’d hoped that they’d keep you down there to be interviewed by the cops. So, yeah, I might have said something to him about how Glory was raving about how amazing you were, and how inseparable you were going to be.”