Siren's Song (Bewitching Bedlam Book 3)
Yasmine Galenorn
SIREN’S SONG
-A Bewitching Bedlam Novel-
Book 3
YASMINE GALENORN
A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication
Published by Yasmine Galenorn
PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037
SIREN’S SONG
A Bewitching Bedlam Novel
Copyright © 2017 by Yasmine Galenorn
First Electronic Printing: 2017 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC
First Print Edition: 2017 Nightqueen Enterprises, LLC
Cover Art & Design: Earthly Charms
Editor: Elizabeth Flynn
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/ existing group, person, place, or business.
A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication
Published in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Welcome to Siren’s Song
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Playlist
Biography
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my beloved husband, Samwise, who is more supportive than any husband out there. (Hey, I’m biased!) He believes in me, even at times when I’m having trouble believing in myself. Thank you to my wonderful assistants—Andria Holley and Jennifer Arnold. And to my friends—namely Carol, Jo, Vicki, Shawntelle, and Mandy. Also, to the whole UF Group gang I’m in. They’ve held my hand more than once this past year as I’ve made the jump from traditional to indie publishing. It’s been a scary, exciting, fast-track ride and I’m loving it.
Love and scritches to my four furbles—Caly, Brighid (the cat, not the goddess), Morgana, and li’l boy Apple, who make every day a delight. And reverence, honor, and love to my spiritual guardians—Mielikki, Tapio, Ukko, Rauni, and Brighid (the goddess, not the cat).
And to you, readers, for taking Maddy and Aegis and Bubba into your heart. Be cautious when you rub a kitty’s belly—you never know when you might end up petting a cjinn! I hope you enjoy this book. If you want to know more about me and my work, check out my bibliography in the back of the book, be sure to sign up for my newsletter, and you can find me on the web at Galenorn.com.
Brightest Blessings,
~The Painted Panther~
~Yasmine Galenorn~
Welcome to Siren’s Song
When the fog rolls in from the sea, sometimes ghosts from the past follow it…
Sandy’s under attack. First she’s almost mowed down at the supermarket, then her new beach-front oyster bar is destroyed shortly before its grand opening. But when she’s found in a coma, the danger really heats up, as parts of her dreaming world escape into reality. Now, Maddy, Aegis, and Max, Sandy’s boyfriend, must find the cure for the mysterious disease she’s suffering from before she’s permanently trapped in the realm of dreams.
Chapter 1
“MADDY GALLOWGLASS, IF you called us here without a good reason, I swear I’m going to tell people to boycott your bed-and-breakfast. I’m paying the babysitter by the hour, and Don’s out of town. My washer broke this morning and I am not in the mood.”
I knew Tanith was joking about the boycott. At least, I thought she was, but she sure as hell didn’t look happy. I glanced at the clock. It was eight-thirty and getting later by the minute. With a sigh, I pulled out my phone.
“I’ll text her again.”
where are you? we’re waiting and tanith is starting to boil.
I waited for a moment. No answer. “I don’t know what’s holding her up. That’s the third time I’ve texted her. It’s not like Sandy to ignore her phone.”
“Maybe you should call her. Maybe she took a nap?” Angus McAllister crossed his right ankle over his left knee. At least this time, he didn’t treat us to an unexpected peep show. He was wearing a kilt—he always wore a kilt—and the last meeting, he had managed to expose us to the fact that yes indeed, men in kilts often did go commando. At least Angus did.
I started to mutter that Sandy didn’t take naps, but then stopped. It wouldn’t do anything to help the situation.
“I’ll give her a ring if she doesn’t answer in another five minutes.”
I tossed my notebook on the table and leaned back, chugging the last of my iced mocha. So much for getting through the meeting in good time. The Inner Council of the Moonrise Coven was supposed to deconstruct the Litha ritual that we had led for the town and discuss what had gone right, and where we had missed the mark. There were always glitches. My plan was to learn from every ritual we did, trying to minimize future screwups. But on Summer Solstice, we had really lost control. The magical Wishing Tree we had set up for the children of the town had gone amok. Five of us had ended up chasing a drunken unicorn through Turnwheel Park as it careened through the ritual staging area, tearing up the decorations and charging a group of werewolf tourists out for a stroll. In turn, the werewolves had been so startled they had shifted, shredding their clothes in the process, and Delia and her deputies had had to lock them in jail till they shifted back for everybody’s protection. It had cost the city money, and there was a good chance that Bedlam had been blistered on Yawp—the online supernatural review site.
“We’re going to have to discuss Litha at some point,” I said, wondering whether to start the meeting without her. But Sandy was one-fifth of the Inner Council. We needed her input.
“We wouldn’t have so much to discuss if you hadn’t had the bright idea to go scare up Sean O’Donnell to help us.” Tristan flashed an irate glare at Terrance.
Terrance rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that I had no clue Sean O’Donnell would be drunk off his ass?”
Sean O’Donnell was the local leprechaun Terrance had “volunteered” to enchant the Wishing Tree for us. I had been surprised that he was so helpful, though now I suspected it was because he was constantly liquored up. But I hadn’t known about his problem with booze when I agreed with Terrance’s idea that Sean would be the perfect candidate.
“You should have known because Sean’s always in the Boil & Squeak, chugging down ale.” Tanith shook her head. “Really, talk about a Darwin Award situation.”
Terrance gave her the finger. “I don’t happen to frequent bars, especially the Boil & Squeak. If I had known he’s a regular there, I would never have suggested him.”
“Children, children, enough!” I tried to smooth things over. “Now we know. Asking the local leprechaun for help? Not such a good idea. At least nobody was hurt.”
“Thanks to Auntie Tautau.” Tanith fell silent again.
As High Priestess of the coven, even though I had only assumed the leadership six months before, all the responsibility and blame fell on my shoulders. I knew how to lead smaller
groups—I was extraordinarily good at it. But large groups of people, hundreds at one time? I was still finding my way. Sometimes, even the best-laid plans ended up in a heap on the floor.
The warmth of the day filtered through the building and I thought maybe it would be a good idea to consider air conditioning. At least a couple room-sized units for our main meeting room and our practice area. Today, the temperature had reached eighty-five—unseasonably high—and thanks to the humidity, it was sweltering.
Tanith blew a strand of bubble-gum pink hair off her forehead. “Can we start without Sandy? I’d like to get home before the babysitter eats me out of house and home.” Her hair color suited her, even though I personally detested pale pink. Tanith was tanned and lean. She lived for jogging and sunbathing and all those other activities that made me want to run the other way, but she was an accomplished witch and—usually—friendly enough.
“I know we’re all hot and frustrated, but I’d rather not. I want everybody’s input on how to handle the autumn equinox, especially in light of the Sean incident. Thank the gods we don’t have to lead the cross-quarter holidays. The quarter days are enough to make me tear my hair out.” I rolled my eyes, and the others laughed, even Tanith.
Besides Tanith, Tristan, Angus and Terrance, the Inner Council consisted of me and my best friend, Sandy Clauson, who was noticeably late and not answering her texts. Finally, I caved and called her. Her phone rang once. Twice. Three times. On the fifth, it switched over to voice mail.
“Where are you? Did you forget? You making time in the sheets with Max? Call me.” Frustrated, I ended the call. “I don’t know where she is. Maybe she just forgot and is out on a date or something.” I tossed my phone on the cushion beside me.
We were meeting in the Temple Arianrhod, a three-story brick building that had once been a private schoolhouse. It had belonged to a Fam-trad, a family-oriented tradition, who were very peculiar in their beliefs. They had brought their children up fully in their own beliefs, including their general education, much like homeschooling. The Fam-trad had been an obscure one, and had died out with the last of the family. After that, the Moonrise Coven bought the schoolhouse at an estate sale, along with the five acres it sat on.
Over the decades, we had transformed the schoolhouse into the Temple Arianrhod and the acreage into a lush woodland, including a private grove and a fire pit reserved for our coven. We rented out one meadow to the public for rituals, although the townwide celebrations took place in Turnwheel Park downtown, and the temple had a large auditorium where we often held community meetings. One of our coven members, Jonquil Adams, lived in the temple as the caretaker. We let her live in the temple rent free in exchange for keeping it clean and to watch over the building.
“So, I suppose we should plan to meet another night.” My suggestion met with an irritated groan from Tanith, and steady stares from Angus and Terrance. But I was the High Priestess. They could complain all they liked, but they’d come through in the end.
“All right, what date?” Tanith pulled out her phone, frowning at her schedule.
I opened my day planner. I preferred paper to my phone when it came to appointments. I’d missed too many meetings because I entered the information wrong. It was just easier to write it down. But this week was booked solid.
“You know what? I’ll get in touch with Sandy and find out why she couldn’t make it, then I’ll cc an email to everybody with a choice of dates. That work for you guys? All right, then we’re good. Let’s head out.”
I gathered my notebook and planner and shoved them into my tote bag. As I stuck my phone in the pocket of my sundress, Tanith scrambled out the door with barely a “good-bye” over her shoulder. Terrance followed her, more slowly. Angus, however, hung back to help me as I began to straighten up. I always tossed our used coffee cups and napkins, and wiped crumbs off the table. I didn’t like to leave a mess for Jonquil.
Angus carried the empty cookie plate over to a small sink in the corner and washed it off, drying it with the crisp white tea towel that hung over a rack on the wall. He placed the plate in the cupboard above the sink as I began to turn the chairs upside down on the table so Jonquil could vacuum.
“So how are you enjoying leading the coven?” he asked.
I paused, my hands on the back of a chair. “To be honest? I enjoy it, but it’s overwhelming at times. I don’t know how Linda kept track of everything. I worry that I’m not doing a good job. I know I’m more than capable on a magical level, but the administration I’m not so keen on.”
“I think any position of leadership is going to have issues in that regard.” He hesitated for a moment, and I could tell he was debating whether to say something.
“What is it?” I preferred it when people were straight up with me. It made life simpler, if at times a little uncomfortable.
“I just wanted to say, I think you’re doing a pretty good job. The coven is facing growing pains. Any transition in power is bound to bring a period of adjustment. Some of the coven members might be a little testy because they were close to Linda. They don’t blame you, but the whole situation was odd. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” He smoothed the skirt of his kilt.
I flashed him a smile. “Thanks. You’re talking about Tanith, aren’t you? I knew she and Linda were friends, but I didn’t think the transition would be this difficult for her. I would have chosen someone else to take my old seat for the Inner Council if I had known. Thing is, Tanith always seemed to like me, so I wasn’t expecting her to brush me off.”
When Rose Williams, a member of the coven, had been murdered in my garden and, during the subsequent investigation, the High Priestess had vanished, the coven leadership had passed to me. I knew Linda had entered the Witches’ Protection Program, but I couldn’t tell anybody. And even though I had been one of the founding members of the coven, it didn’t mean that I kept up to date on every coven member’s life. But Tanith and I had always gotten along, so I wasn’t expecting trouble.
However, for the past few months—ever since our Ostara ritual in March—she had become distant and moody, arguing with me during meetings.
“I suppose I need to have a talk with her. I can’t let resentment fester.”
Again, Angus looked slightly uncomfortable. “I think she’s having problems at home. Her husband isn’t doing much to help out with the kid, and she not only has to work a day job, but she has to come home and take care of the house and their child. I think she’s just overwhelmed with responsibilities.”
Tanith had married a human, and they had a two-year-old. I didn’t know much about her private life, but that could explain a lot.
I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll walk softly, but she needs to talk to me. I suppose that’s part of my job now. I haven’t really been paying much attention to anything outside the rituals and trying to sort out the books. Linda left the coven files in a bit of a mess and it’s all because…”
I paused, not able to say too much. There were certain things the coven was better off not knowing about. And the fact that Linda’s files were a mess because she had been in collusion with Essie Vanderbilt, the queen of the Pacific Northwest Vampire Nation, was one of them. Regardless of the reason—and it had been a good one—Linda had sold the coven short.
Angus frowned and stroked his red beard. It reached the top button of his shirt. “I know there’s more to it than you can tell me, but what I know is probably just enough to be dangerous. I’m just going to put this out there: if Essie Vanderbilt gets her hooks in the coven, I’m quitting.”
I held his gaze. “I promise, she won’t, not if I can stop her. I have my reasons for keeping in the loop with Essie, but you’re right about one thing. You are better off not knowing.” I glanced around. “All right, we’re done. Let’s head out. I’ll see you at our next meeting.” I glanced at my phone again. Still no message from Sandy.
I locked the door behind us, and he walked me out to my car.
“Night, Maddy. And…thanks.” Angus hopped on his motorcycle and gave me a wave.
I waved back, then slid into my CR-V. I paused, texting Sandy again, but to no avail. Where the hell could she be? Maybe she had lost her phone, or broke it, and couldn’t answer. Comforting myself with that thought, I eased out of the parking lot.
DUSK WAS FALLING on Bedlam, the sky tinged with streaks of grays and blues as it faded into the indigo of the approaching night. June was usually a mild month, with temperatures into the upper sixties and a drizzle of rain now and then, but we were in the middle of a heat wave. The flowers and trees were in full swing, and the air smelled clean, saltwater fresh from the surrounding ocean that flowed in through the straits.
The city of Bedlam spread across the entire island—which was also named Bedlam.
A small island located in the San Juans off the coast of Washington state, Bedlam was near Lopez and Orcas islands, in the Haro Strait. Bedlam’s climate was anomalous to the rest of the nearby islands, due to two factors. One, it was farther north than the rest and was therefore at the perfect angle to receive the brunt of the storms that whistled through the straits. The second reason was that the magical power of the land attracted storms like a magnet. Bedlam’s aura might as well reach out to pluck the clouds and rain and snow out of the atmosphere. We received more snow and rain than the surrounding islands, and our springs were milder, if drizzly, and summer was sun-baked during July and August.
There were about six thousand people living in Bedlam, and most of us were Otherkin—members of the Pretcom, the supernatural community. The town had a quirky old-world charm to it, and the houses were a blend of Victorians, ramblers, and gingerbread cottages. Most people kept their homes in good shape. There were a few abandoned buildings littering the island, but mostly, the oldest buildings were very old, having been brought over piece by piece from other countries and rebuilt in Bedlam, and they were still being used.
