Voices of the Sea (13 page)

Lora hurried down the hallway, not stopping at Will’s room to say goodbye. Her feet pounded on the stairs as she hurried down them and out the front door before anyone could stop her from leaving by herself, pausing to grab her jacket off the rack. Lora muttered to herself as she shoved her arms inside. Ironic timing, really, but only because of Ryan, whom she dreamed about all the time. Will didn’t think about her romantically. She and Will were friends. Only friends.

Chapter Fourteen

R
ain painted the world, and Lora pulled on her hood as she ran to the car. The tires made a squealing sound when she pulled onto the road. She started home, only five blocks away. Her hands turned white gripping the steering wheel. She clenched her teeth together, both from her anger and from the cold.

Then, a little to the right, she saw a person lying face down on the sidewalk. Lora skidded to a halt. She pulled the car over and hopped out into the rain, her feet sloshing in a large puddle on the ground. Without an umbrella, the rain soaked her jacket, but she ran toward the still body on the ground. The man—she guessed it was a man based on the body’s shape and the haircut—didn’t move when she approached.

“Are you all right?” she asked. No answer. The drenching rain fell into her eyes, and she wiped the water away to see more clearly.

Lora reached out to touch him. She heard a noise behind her and turned in time to see a figure running straight toward her. Panicked, Lora jumped over the body just as its hand shot out and grabbed her ankle, pulling her leg backwards. The head rose from the ground like a re-animated corpse. Her palms burned as they smacked the ground, and Lora screamed. Bracing herself on her hands, she kicked at the man’s head. The shoe made a hollow sound as it connected with his skull, and a bellow sounded from his mouth. His hand fell from her ankle, allowing her barely enough time to scramble forward before the other attacker could reach her. Her breath came fast and heavy, and the rain blurred her vision as she sprinted down the dark street, screaming for help. But the homes stayed dark. She could hear the pounding footsteps behind her.

Desperate now, Lora bobbed and weaved in case one of her attackers had a gun. Her mind raced, searching for a melody, and she sang the first song she could think of:
The Star Spangled Banner.
The words fell from her mouth in a strained but beautiful melody. A poor performance, because her breath emerged in frightened gasps, but it would get the job done if they were both male, which she suspected they were But as she ran, she couldn’t ignore the gripping fear that her singing wouldn’t work, which meant the worst case scenario.

If they weren’t the Sons, she didn’t even want to guess their purpose. Her money. Her body. Her life. None of the options were pleasant. If they were the Sons, she was absolutely fighting for her life.

Increasing the song’s volume, she turned around and almost stopped in horror. One of her attackers was much closer than the other. She sang loudly now, desperately, terrified to face reality. She was certain they could hear her, but the men were not slowing. Her song did not affect them. They were Sons of Orpheus, as she had feared.

Mind racing, Lora reached deep within herself and found the strength she needed to run faster. She still held her keys and curled her hand into a fist, holding one key out to use as a weapon. Her feet smacked the wet street as she ran faster than she could have imagined, but it wasn’t fast enough. The closer of the two ran right behind her; she could hear his heavy breathing and the slapping of his shoes on the ground even above the showering rain. Instinct overtook her. Lora whirled around, rammed her body into his and slammed her fist into his neck. She heard him gasp and felt the key puncture his skin, felt the slippery liquid on her hand, heard the attacker gurgling on his own blood as he collapsed onto the street. His dark eyes were wide open, the blood pouring from the jagged, gaping wound below his Adam’s apple. His body gave a final jerk, then lay silent and motionless.

Without waiting for his companion to catch up, Lora jerked the key from his flesh and spun around. She sprinted down the street, leaving the dead man on the concrete, blood pooling around his body. Her house waited only one block away.

Lora’s legs ached and her right knee began to spasm and almost buckled. She faltered momentarily, but pushed herself harder and passed the Filbert’s home, then the Murphy’s, until there was only one more home before hers.

They no longer pursued her. She stole a glance behind and found them gone, but didn’t slow her pace. She ran faster, leaping over the bushes which lined the path to her home and crying out in pain as her knee buckled and she collapsed to the ground. Crawling forward, Lora pushed herself, now bruised and muddy, off the ground to reach the front door. Grimacing, she shoved the bloody key into the lock and jerked the door open, screaming for her father. Still heaving, Lora slammed the door shut, locking the deadbolt and collapsing into a heap on the floor.

An hour later, Lora’s shoulders still trembled. Her lips quivered, and her mind was entirely disconnected from the sea, which only made her feel more isolated. Devin had arrived within minutes after she collapsed in her foyer, sensing her distress, and now she wrapped a blanket tightly around Lora’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you what they look like,” Lora said, her voice quiet. “It was so dark, and I just told myself to run.” She sipped the hot tea. “They weren’t affected by my song at all, just like you told me.”

“No,” Devin said, taking a seat next to her. “They are not. I should have reminded you. This is why the Sirens are so vulnerable to the Sons of Orpheus. It’s our curse, of sorts, that the Sons are impervious to our melodies.”

“This is my fault,” her father said. “If I had better prepared her . . .” he trailed off and faced the rain soaked window. Lora shook her head.

“It’s no one’s fault, Dad,” she said, and Devin nodded in agreement. “How could you have guessed they’d track me down so quickly? They were waiting for me, Dad. They knew where I was and set up the trap to kill me.”

Her father’s face darkened. “The Sons wouldn’t have had the chance if you hadn’t been so foolish.”

“Robert,” Devin said, rising to stop him, but he turned to face her with a clenched jaw.

“Don’t try to defend her,” he said in a low voice. “Lora is almost eighteen years old, and yet she still makes decisions as if she were a child.”

Furious, Lora jumped up. “Just because my decisions are different from yours doesn’t make them wrong. I’m not like you, Dad. I don’t intend to abandon my home and my clan. I’m not a coward.” The words left her mouth like an angry whip, slashing at her father. Even Devin, who had stepped away from the argument, appeared concerned.

“I’m careful,” he growled, taking a step toward her. “Not a coward. Your rash actions put yourself and our clan in danger. We have to be careful so we can protect ourselves and others. Will is a perfect example of what can happen if we’re careless.”

Fuming, Lora narrowed her eyes. “He didn’t kill her on purpose, Dad. How was he supposed to know the girl snuck out at one in the morning? It was a freak accident, nothing more. Will didn’t force a car to come tearing down the street any more than he intended for the poor girl to hear him playing the violin.”

“She wouldn’t be dead if he hadn’t played his instrument,” her father countered. “He caused her trance, he caused the accident, and he takes responsibility for his actions.”

“And I don’t?” Lora asked. She and her father were face to face as their voices rose. She’d never been in such a heated argument with him before, which brought her dangerously close to tears. “I care about the Clan and want to protect them, not run away.”

“Stop,” Devin said, her voice rising above their shouting. “Enough. There is no use arguing, because you are both right in your own way.” Devin turned to Lora’s father. “Robert, we cannot afford to be reckless, not only because it puts humans in danger, but because it makes us more vulnerable to the Clan.” He nodded and gave Lora a nod, which made her grimace, but Devin stepped in. “Loralei is right too,” she said. Robert frowned. “We should be proud of who we are; it’s a shame we feel the need to hide from the Sons’ evil, and I admire Loralei’s desire to stop them.” Devin breathed deeply, turning her gaze to the window as if she were trying to glimpse the ocean. “I admire her so much, in fact, that I support her decision to stay.”

“What?” Robert said, and Lora echoed his surprise. “You can’t,” he said. “She isn’t even eighteen, and it’s my responsibility to protect her.” Her father gestured wildly as he yelled, his usually controlled face stretched taut in frustration.

“It’s not,” Lora countered, crossing her arms. She could barely hide her elation at Devin’s support. “I can take care of myself, and I’ll be eighteen in less than a month. Regardless of my age, don’t you understand? I have a duty to my clan to stop the Sons of Orpheus!” She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and pointed to the window. “Do you think the Sons are going to stop hunting the Sirens just because they move away from the sea? Moving won’t stop their hatred of us any more than hiding will stop them from finding and killing us.” Lora breathed heavily, fighting back tears, desperate for her father to listen, but his eyes were downcast. Expecting the same reaction from Devin, she stole a glance in her direction. To her surprise, Devin nodded.

“I’ve seen Loralei’s capabilities. She has a command of the ocean which I did not possess at her age. She is ready to face the Sons of Orpheus.”

Lora’s father shook his head. “No. No, absolutely not.”

As he shook his head, the ocean’s roaring song flowed through the window, sensing her torment, giving her strength. It calmed her, increasing her confidence, and for the first time since her mother had died, she wasn’t angry at her father. Instead, she understood him better than she ever had before. Fear motivated him.

“It isn’t your choice to make, Dad,” she said, surprised at the calmness in her voice. “It’s mine.”

“I won’t allow it!” he yelled, startling her, but his anger only fueled her resolve.

“Do you think you can keep me away from Pacific Grove, away from everything I love? Away from the sea? I’m a Siren, Dad, and a Guardian. You can’t remove any of those, no matter how much you want to. Mom wouldn’t have left the Clan, and I don’t intend to, either.” Tears fell down her face as she spoke. “I’m staying,” she said firmly. Lora breathed evenly, but her heart pounded. She expected her father to argue with her, to laugh at her idea and tell her that, as his daughter, she had no place making these types of decisions. Instead, he stared at her with helpless brown eyes. Before she realized it was happening, their roles reversed.

“You’re right,” her father said. “I can’t stop you.” He stepped forward until he stood directly in front of her, then leaned forward, put his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. “And I won’t leave you either,” he said. His pitiful voice broke her heart and strengthened it at the same time. His eyes were sadder than she’d ever seen them before, even when her mother died.

With a sigh, he turned to Devin. “We’re staying,” he said. He turned and trudged up the stairs. He’d aged years in a few minutes. His hair was grayer than the day before, his shoulders sagging in defeat. She had caused this heartache in her father, which made her chest hurt, but Lora remained strong in her convictions. She stood by the decision as the right thing for herself and for her clan. She couldn’t let her father’s disappointment stop her.

Lora turned to Devin, expecting support, but instead saw her father’s grief reflected in Devin’s eyes. “You agree with him?” she asked the Guardian.

“No,” Devin answered, “and yes. I don’t believe there is a right or wrong answer to this problem.” She glided toward the window, touching the pane of glass. The rain came down in torrents and reflected the house lights outside, creating a false sense of warmth. “But you are to be Guardian when I am gone, and I must trust your judgment, no matter how much I question it. The ocean listens to you and obeys your commands. It has faith in you, and so must I.”

Her words provided no comfort.

“I will also stay in Pacific Grove,” Devin said. “Together, we’ll try and track down the remaining Sons and kill them. Come to my cottage after school tomorrow. We’ll ask the sea for help together.” The Guardian opened the door. “Be careful,” she said. Shutting the door behind her, she disappeared into the rain-soaked night.

Chapter Fifleen

T
he girl was too smart, which made him nervous. Sometimes he thought she saw through him, studying him with those intense eyes when he stood alone. But when he turned around, he only saw empty space.

Even worse, he dreamed of her. Violent dreams, full of blood, making him quiver with delight in his sleep, only to be disappointed when he awoke to find they were nothing more than fantasy. In some dreams, he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed the song from her lips until it extinguished. In others, he caught her by surprise, stabbing her over and over until nothing remained but a lifeless body at his mercy. Once, he had a nightmare where, as he raped the beast, she turned into a giant bird and scraped him with her talons, marring his naked flesh as she laughed.

He woke up in a hot sweat, trembling with disgust and arousal.

He wanted to kill her next, but their first failed attempt made him afraid. It might be too dangerous to take her life now, when there were still so many other families to kill before they left Pacific Grove. The other Sons would help him, of course, but he wanted to kill Lora on his own. He wanted to take his time, to see the horror in her eyes when she learned his true identity. He wanted to share his story so she would understand his rage and understand that she would die slowly.

But they were running out of time.

There were so many of them. So damn many of them. They’d repopulated in the last twenty years, since the last time the Sons had attempted to wipe out the Clans, and each time it became more difficult to kill them. They usually stayed in pairs, not venturing out alone, because they were cowards. And now, they would run and hide like mice. But the Sons were one step ahead of them.

Ortho hurried down the steps to the small room below a large warehouse, opened the cumbersome metal door, and pushed it closed behind him. The air hung heavy with smoke, and he wafted through the fog to join three men who sat at a table in the middle of the room. Two chairs were unoccupied, and one would remain so. The room sounded like a tomb: quiet, bare and silent. Quickly, he took his seat, the emptiness of the chair next to him palpable in the room.

“There are fourteen targets left,” said Ortho’s father, a large man with gray hair and gnarled hands. “Each of you will be assigned families to eliminate.” Ortho watched Don, a tall, thin man, lope around the table, placing photographs in front of each member. Ortho glared down at one of the photographs and saw a young man, woman, and baby in their front yard. They sat on a blanket, Cypress trees surrounding them.

Glancing around the table, he noticed a picture was missing. “What about the last family?” Ortho asked as he touched the shiny surface of his photograph. “Who is responsible for them?” Bruce, whose thick neck and shoulders melded together, glanced at Don with silent eyes.

His father didn’t make eye contact, but rather frowned at the table. “I think I am the suitable member to take care of that family.”

Ortho clenched his hands, wrinkling the photograph. “I want to do it.”

“No.”

Angered, Ortho slammed his fist on the table, which rattled under his wrath. “Why?” he demanded. “Why can’t I kill her?”

“You know why!” his father roared, his voice echoing off the metal walls.

Shaking, Ortho slowly rose. He picked up the other photograph with the tips of his long fingers as if it were a virus.

“I’m the best person for the job,” he said, attempting to keep his voice controlled, but unable to totally hide its shaking. “I’ll eliminate her without mistakes.”

His father shook his head. “Your judgment is clouded because of your . . . unnatural obsession with the girl.”

Ortho gripped the table with one hand. “She’s the most powerful Siren I’ve ever encountered.”

“Perhaps,” he replied, “but we are concerned with your methods. You’ll kill the family I’ve assigned and no others.” Ortho clenched his teeth to keep from spitting on the table. He turned to leave when his father called his name.

“You will use the usual methods when you kill,” his father reminded him. “There is no need to remove any unnecessary . . . parts.”

“Yes, Father,” Ortho said, and he left through the heavy door.