off Serenity and find her long-lost father
and brother.
“Have you talked to her father?”
Laka gave a frustrated snort. Granted,
contacting Okalani’s dad was an
obvious thing to do. But you’d be
surprised how often people don’t
actually do the obvious.
“He won’t take my calls. I went to the
address in the telephone directory. His
ex-wife says he’s gone, and good
riddance. I thought she might be lying,
but there are initial divorce papers filed
at the courthouse.”
“What about your son?”
Her expression saddened, growing
haunted. “My son is dead. He was killed
in a vampire attack after one of his high-
school football games.”
“I’m so sorry.” I was, too. Few
football games are held at night because
of the risks, but with the days so short in
the fall and winter, sometimes games
end after dark. The police do the best
they can, but accidents happen. Tragic.
“Thank you. Losing him to Ricky was
hard. But his death … perhaps you can
understand now why I tried so hard to
keep Okalani from coming to the
mainland.”
I did, actually. The siren Isle of
Serenity has never had a vampire, never
known a werewolf attack. The mental
control the queen has over the island
residents would force them to leave. I
could understand Laka’s desperation,
knowing her daughter was on her own in
circumstances unlike anything she’d ever
experienced. That didn’t mean I could
help her. “Laka, I’m a bodyguard, not a
private investigator. But I know of a
couple of reputable—”
“No,” she interrupted me. “Please …
Okalani likes you, she trusts you.” I
started to explain that I wasn’t trained to
find people, but she interrupted me
again. “But you’re very good at
uncovering the truth, Princess.” Okay,
now she was interrupting thoughts I
hadn’t spoken. Was she was rummaging
around in my head?
I intentionally let my thoughts about
her daughter go blank, focusing instead
on the room. The curtains at the balcony
doors were open, letting in lots of bright
sunlight that gleamed off the wide, white
trim of the baseboards and made the pale
peach walls look even paler than usual. I
loved my big desk, which had two
visitor chairs facing it; there was a
second seating area in one corner, with a
couch, a side chair, and a low table.
Behind me was a large gun safe. Painted
a dark forest green, the safe was a new
addition to the office décor, and one I
wasn’t entirely pleased about.
I saw Laka’s face register confusion
for a moment before she looked directly
at the gun safe. Got her. Sirens are
telepathic. The “siren call” people talk
about is a psychic compulsion, not some
sort of music in the air. While it’s
considered extremely bad manners to
intrude into other people’s heads willy-
nilly, many of the sirens I’ve met do it a
lot.
Most
of
them
can
carry
on
conversations both audibly and mentally
with equal ease. I’ve had to work hard
to get good at that, but I don’t really like
doing it unless it’s an emergency. It
creeps people out. Hell, it creeps me
out. I still haven’t mastered keeping
others out of my thoughts. Then again,
I’m only one-fourth siren and my
abilities were brought out by the bite of
a master vampire who was trying to turn
me. I may technically be a siren—and
the multi-grandniece of Queen Lopaka—
but I hadn’t had a clue about that part of
my heritage until the bat bite.
Laka eavesdropping on my thoughts
without permission ticked me off. A lot.
Stop it! I growled the words in my
the door, enough so that I started to rise
from my seat.
Laka flushed, but kept talking,
desperation forcing her words out in a
rush. “Hear me out, please, Princess.
Ricky, Okalani’s father, has always been
clever
and
charismatic.
Charming
enough to win people over, to convince
them of whatever he wants them to
believe. He talks his way into good jobs,
and people who meet him would swear
he isn’t capable of stealing or conning
people out of their money. But he is.”
Something swam through her dark
eyes, some memory that she wasn’t yet
ready to reveal—and I wouldn’t dive
into her head to pry it out. I sat back
down, inhaling the thick scent of flowers
that surrounded her. “When he was with
me, on Serenity, I used my powers to
keep him in check. Too many of my
fellow sirens would have been easy
pickings for Ricky, since at that time
money didn’t have much value on
Serenity. I didn’t allow him to take
advantage of people. He hated that. He
said I was manipulating him, making him
into someone he wasn’t. In a way, he
was correct. I could make him do what
was right. But I couldn’t make him want
to do it. Perhaps I was wrong to try to
make him become a more ethical person.
He grew to hate me, and to hate all
sirens, because of what I did.”
“So you sent him away.”
I tried not to put any particular
emotion in my words, but my feelings
probably showed in my mind. I don’t
like that the sirens have historically
considered men nothing more than tools
of procreation. Their female-centric
culture throws away male partners and
male children like so much trash.
Laka’s chin came up, her expression
conveying pride, stubbornness, and hurt.
It was an old wound, but I could tell
from her expression that it still ached. “I
did. I let him take our son, but I kept
Okalani away from him.”
I thought back, remembering what
she’d said to me the first night I’d met
her, the night Okalani had teleported
herself onto my friend Bubba’s boat. I’d
nearly killed the youngster, thinking she
was an enemy intruder.
“You told me before that he was bitter
about being sent away?” I made it a
question.
She sighed. “Yes. He was … is. It
makes no sense to me. He hated me for
making him law-abiding, but he hated it
even more when I rejected him.”
“An
d you think he’ll take it out on
your daughter by rejecting her?”
She shook her head and her
expression grew hard and grim. “Oh, no.
He won’t reject her. He’ll use her.”
The way she said that … an image
appeared in my mind. A darkened
building, figures in black, and a floor-to-
ceiling vault door. Whether it was my
own vision or projected into my head by
Laka, I suddenly understood why she
was so panicked.
“You think he would use Okalani’s
gift to steal things?”
Her jaw tightened, like it wasn’t
something she wanted said out loud. But
I’m like that. If it can’t be said out loud,
it shouldn’t be thought. “I would rather
not think he is capable of outright theft.”
A moment’s thought provided all too
many ways Okalani could be of terrific
use to a con man and thief—the
possibilities were endless. A simple
variation of the old shell game, where
instead of being palmed and moved, the
ball would simply disappear into
Okalani’s hand while she stood several
feet away. An apartment full of priceless
antiques one minute, the next … empty,
the thief chatting with the owner
throughout the robbery. A murder
suspect seemingly in two places at once,
with witnesses in both places. I hid all
that in my mind as best I could, and
erected what few barriers I knew to
keep Laka out. She didn’t need to know
how dark my thoughts were.
The siren looked beseechingly at me.
“Please, Princess … please help me find
my daughter.”
Scooting back my chair, I opened my
center desk drawer and pulled out a
leather case that held alphabetized
business cards. Flipping to “P,” I
selected one from the mix of private
investigators and handed it across the
desk. “Call Harry Carson. He’s one of
the best I know. I’ll do some looking
around and I’ll talk to Okalani if I find
her, but he’ll find her if I can’t.”
She took the card and stared at it with
relief plain on her face. Dark eyes filled
with gratitude raised to meet mine.
“Thank you, Princess. If there’s anything
I can ever do—”
I flinched involuntarily for at least the
third time since she arrived. “Actually,
there is.” I rose and stepped around the
desk.
She raised her eyebrows and cocked
her head as I walked past her to the
door, turned the knob, and opened it. My
meaning was obvious; Laka stood and
headed for the exit, pausing when we
were inches apart to repeat, “Anything.”
I sighed and looked at her wearily.
“Stop calling me Princess.”
3
It was my morning for siren trouble.
After Laka left, I started sorting through
my messages, trying to put them in order
of priority. The most important, and
worrisome, were the multiple messages
from Lopaka and her daughter Adriana. I
knew Adriana was in the process of
planning her weddings, plural, to King
Dahlmar of Rusland. Other than sending
an RSVP—regrets for the daylight
ceremony on Serenity, because of my
vampish skin problems; a big yes to the
church ceremony in Rusland because
I’ve always wanted to see Europe—I
had no connection to the wedding. Since
Adriana and I aren’t close, that was no
surprise.
Still, they were calling. Eight or ten
times each. That meant there was a crisis
of some sort. Crap. I so didn’t want to
deal with whatever it was. I wanted to
ease back into my life, try to make some
decisions about my future when I wasn’t
caught up in the crisis of the moment. But
there you go. I picked up the phone and
dialed the number Hiwahiwa, the
queen’s assistant, had left, and got her
assistant, who told me that the queen
was unavailable, but would call me back
at her convenience.
So I hung up and dialed Adriana.
Now my great-aunt and I get along
well, despite the fact that she’s royal,
and I’m an American and pretty
irreverent besides. But Adriana? That’s
a whole ’nother story. The princess can
be very … princessy. A diva’s diva. She
has a crown and an attitude, and
definitely knows how to use both. On top
of that she was busy getting ready for the
impending nuptials, so I figured I’d get
shunted off to an even longer line of
assistants. Instead, she answered herself
and on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“This is Celia Graves—”
She interrupted me before I could
finish. “Celia, thank God! Tell me
you’re back from Mexico.” She spoke in
a rush, her voice breathless. At a guess
I’d have said she was desperate, but that
was so out of character as to be
completely unbelievable.
“I’m back.”
“Oh good.” The relief in her voice
was palpable. What the hell was going
on? “How soon can you make it down to
the docks? We need to talk.”
I glanced at the wall clock. Not even
ten thirty, my first day back, and I was
already hip deep in crises. Not a record
for me, but close. “Give me an hour.”
I grabbed my Bluetooth earpiece and
headed for my car. I might as well make
a couple of calls on the way. I had to
leave a message on Bruno’s voice mail,
but got hold of Emma. A clairvoyant, she
wasn’t exactly surprised that I’d made it
back, but she did sound hugely relieved.
She didn’t admit it, but I was guessing
she’d “peeked” in the mirror she
sometimes used as a focus. If she’d been
watching me in Mexico, she’d probably
gotten quite the eyeful.
We didn’t chat long. She had a class
to teach and traffic was getting heavy
enough that I needed to concentrate on
my driving.
Despite the traffic, I made it to the
marina with time to spare. I knew my
way around from back when a good
friend kept his fishing boat here, so it
was easy to find Adriana’s slip.
Actually, it would have been easy for
anyone who knew anything about sirens
—all you had to do was follow the gulls.
They led the way, soaring and swooping
and cawing with excitement, to the nicest
yacht in the place.
Calling Adriana’s vessel a boat was
like calling the Hope Diamond a pretty
rock. Her ship was freaking huge, with
hand-carved teak and brass fittings. The
stair
way was steep. Not a gangplank—
actual stairs. Everything was elegant
and perfect, very much like Adriana
herself.
Though I had to admit she wasn’t
entirely perfect. As Queen Lopaka’s
only daughter, Adriana should have been
heir to the throne. Unfortunately, she
wasn’t siren enough, because like Emma
Landingham, she was a clairvoyant.
“True” siren talent can’t coexist with
any other paranormal or magical
abilities, so she would never take her
mother’s throne. Worse, she probably
had already seen in a vision just who
would.
Fate can be so cruel.
She would never rule the Isle of
Serenity, but Adriana was every inch a
princess. It’s all about the attitude.
Today she was wearing big movie-star
sunglasses, a man’s dress shirt in white,
blue jeans, and boat shoes. On her, it all
looked like the height of fashion. Her
long red hair had been tied back in a
loose tail that did not distract from the
amazing bone structure of her face. She
was stunning. On my best day I don’t
look that good. That bothers me more
than it probably should.
Adriana met me at the gangplank and
invited me on board.
“Thank you for coming on such short
notice.” She smiled, and dolphins began
jumping and playing in the water next to
the boat. Overhead, my seagull escort
wheeled and cawed happily before
settling down on various high spots to
watch.
Ever the gracious hostess, Adriana
led me to a pair of built-in benches
around a small table near the entrance to
the cabin area. “Would you like
something to drink?” She signaled and a
servant
instantly
appeared
from
somewhere. “We’ll have brunch now.”
“Of course, Princess.” He bowed
low, backing away.
She sat and drummed her manicured
fingers restlessly on the tabletop.
I waited for a little bit, letting her
squirm. But I’m not really all that
patient, and at the rate she was going, it
would be next week before she got past
the pleasantries. “Why don’t you just
spit it out?”
“Excuse me?” She blinked, obviously
shocked.
I smiled. I didn’t get an advantage
over her often. She’s been trained to be
poised in almost any situation. But it
was obvious she needed something and
just as obvious that she was not used to
having to ask. I realized that it was