My Sisters in Death (Siren Suicides, Book 2)

Chapter 19. Wet Lab

I rub my eyes and blink. Jimmy and Glen materialize on either side of the doorframe, their soul melodies assaulting my hearing and making me hungry. Good, maybe it'll give me some much needed strength. A waft of sea air follows the daylight that breaks through. I drag in a huge lungful of air and smell the stink again, taking in the cacophony of Jimmy's and Glen's souls, sandwiched together into a noxious duo. Repulsive, but edible. My chest agrees with a growl of famished void, ready to make me pounce. Pipes and wires stick out eerily this way and that in the narrow corridor that separates me from the fishermen standing by the door, mincing their steps. They must be afraid of me. The thought gives me pleasure and I hiss involuntarily, pumping myself up for a fight.

The sinister siren part of me is grinning, saying, It's show time, Ailen. You can do it. It nags at me, Come on, eat them! It's what you were made for, isn't it? Admit it, you love it. Get back at them; get back at your father for all of the pain he's inflicted upon you. He doesn't deserve to live, nor do they. Suck out their lives, you can do it. Gather your remaining power...come on! Remember to sing at 130 decibels to make them lose their minds, bend their sorry wills with your voice, gut those babies, make their every bone pop and break. Like at Lake Union, remember? DO IT!

I know, I know, I want to answer, but I'm terrified that I can't do it at will, that I need a powerful emotion to kick myself into gear. This drives me insane, mad at my own constant self-doubt and the fear of accepting myself as I am.

Hunter glances at me, his mouth opening to say something. I press a finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet. He nods his head, eyes expectant, miraculously trusting me this time.

Ailen Bright, I tell myself, you're a siren. So, act like one!

There is muttering by the door, a few phrases exchanged in a hushed whisper, and then Glen, the squat bearded guy, takes a few tentative steps into the corridor.

"Hey, kids, easy now. Easy..."

Emboldened by our unresponsiveness, he crosses the rest of the distance, his resin boots squeaking on the floor. A sonic gun in one hand, pointed at me, he reaches for Hunter with the other. That's my cue.

"Uncle Glen, here, to take you kids upstairs. I have me a gun, you hear? Let's not—"

The rest gets lost unspoken. I shriek, lunging forward and pushing Hunter aside. Then I grab Glen's orange suspenders that hug his beer belly. Surprised, he loses his footing, kneeling forward like a sack of potatoes with a dull thud. That must hurt his knees, and he yelps to confirm my suspicion. Good. Before he gets control of his upper body, I straight-arm his chest and he folds back, falling flat onto the floor, his head smacking it in a juicy crack, without a beanie to protect it from the naked metal. He shrieks. I hop on top of him, pinning his right wrist to the floor until his fingers uncurl and he loses his grip on the plastic weapon. The trawler rocks and the gun rolls away into the darkness. Hunter catches it and scoots into the shadows, out of sight.

I hug Glen with my thighs and squeeze hard, not allowing him to move. I press his other wrist to the floor and lower my face within inches of his nose.

"Hi there, fatty. Nice beer belly," I say into his face, seized by a mad desire to scare him.

He gapes at me, speechless.

Hunter shouts behind me at the tall guy, Jimmy.

"What the fuck are you looking at? Get your sorry ass out of here while you can, you stupid dickhead!" he shouts. It's his way of attacking, yelling obscenities before he gets scared or before his opponent realizes his fear. I smile. This is the Hunter I know. I also realize I love him so much it hurts.