My Sisters in Death (Siren Suicides, Book 2)

Chapter 2. Montlake Bridge

Everything happens in seconds. Canosa perches on the edge of the cornice like a wingless bird, her arms spread wide for balance. She sits on her haunches, her hair hanging in loose strands, and her mouth opened wide. She hums a single low, droning belly note. It shifts the air down in a freezing shaft of wind. I crawl back toward the edge to look down, not daring to touch her. The couple has stopped. They turn their heads left and right, puzzled, looking at each other before glancing up. Other people pass them, unaware. Canosa's singing is focused directly on them, trailing down in an obscure column of fog. The whole scene reminds me of a frog catching a fly in mid-air, as if Canosa was about to shoot out her tongue and retract it with great speed, swallowing her prey in one go. Except Canosa's tongue is her song, in some weird language that's definitely not English, and the steam of two whisked-up souls is her fly.

"Why them? They didn't do anything wrong!" I whisper. I cringe, remembering my first accidental kill—that fishmonger in the public restroom. How am I better? I touch Canosa's shoulder again, but she shakes me off and snarls. I shrink away.

She sucks in their souls, her mouth gulping; her greedy eyes are rolled back to their white, and her neck veins bulge as her chest protrudes forward. I could tip her over and send her crashing fifty feet down, but it wouldn't kill her so I wonder why I even think this. Didn't she show me her hunting spot; shouldn't I be grateful? Or is it the siren in me, wanting to be mean for no reason at all?

Part of me admires how quickly she's snuffing out not one soul, but two, and in broad daylight! She's obviously a pro.

Her song pours from her mouth in one misty shaft, sounding like an ancient lullaby. I think perhaps she sings in Greek, her native language. I find myself listening with my mouth open. Fog thickens, rolling from her skin pores in coils and plumes, as the temperature drops ten degrees. The guy and girl below us stare up, their lips parted, their eyes glassy, their souls whooshing toward Canosa like intertwined ribbons.

Plop!

Both souls are gone. I can see their misty ends disappear into Canosa. She slurps them up, licks her lips, and leans over the edge to look. I lean with her.

The couple drops to the ground, still shrouded in fog. The girl's knee-length rain jacket opens up and spreads about her like a dusty cloud; her face is framed by blond hair, her eyes unmoving. She's gone. The guy is, too; his rain jacket is crumpled, his hand over hers, even in death. It looks as if they decided to lie flat on their backs and gaze up at the drifting clouds, guessing at their shapes and seeing if their guesses match.

"You...You killed them!" I hiss.

"Did you see it? Did you see how fast I was?" Canosa asks with obvious pride.

"I don't give a fuck how long it took you!" I curl my fingers, cutting them hard into my palms. "Why them? Why did you do that?"

"Hush!" she hisses in my face. "It's what sirens do. It's about time you learned, Ailen Bright." She pinches my cheek hard and it hurts.

Below us, a woman runs up to the dead couple and shrieks. Someone else runs up and calls for help. I ignore them, my attention on Canosa.

"You killed them. Some random people; you just went ahead and killed them," I keep repeating, as if to confirm the fact.

"Yes, I did," Canosa says calmly.

"You're not even sorry!"

"I'm not. I savor it, and you will too. They were looking way too happy for my taste," she hisses. "Why can they have what I can't? Tell me how that's fair. Besides, they were my favorite flavor...lemony." She licks her lips and smiles at me.