No Crones About It Page 2

  “Hey!” I could hear her sputtering and, even though I knew better than to turn my back on the siren, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing in my so-called partner’s direction. I wasn’t disappointed. She looked like a drowned rat, her hair plastered to her face and the leather of her coat shining in an unnatural way.

  It took everything I had to swallow my laughter. “Sorry,” I offered in a voice that lacked sincerity. “I didn’t see you there ... standing ... way behind me.”

  “Oh, whatever.”

  I turned back to the siren, expecting another assault. Instead, she remained rooted to her spot, curious more than murderous. “What?” I was genuinely baffled by her reaction.

  “What are you?”

  The question caught me off guard. “We’re with Spells Angels,” I replied out of habit. “We’re here to take you into custody.”

  She laughed. I didn’t blame her. Even I thought I sounded ridiculous.

  “Spells Angels? Is that like Charlie’s Angels?”

  It was a fair question. “Not even remotely.”

  “It’s totally like Charlie’s Angels,” Marissa countered, her fingers busy as she tried to comb at her hair. “I’m Farrah, in case you’re wondering. I’m only staking my claim because you’re blond and you might think I should be Tanya Roberts or something. That’s not going to happen. Everyone wants to be Farrah … and I’m her.”

  That was the exact opposite of what I was thinking. “Um ... I want to be Kate Jackson.”

  Marissa made an exaggerated face. She was in her forties, but told everyone she was in her thirties (and often acted like she was in her teens when it came to competing with other women) and it was clear that our frosty relationship wouldn’t be warming anytime soon. I was convinced that’s why Rooster Tremaine, the head of the Hawthorne Hollow branch of Spells Angels, assigned us to this case together. There were plenty of other members of the group — any other members really — I would’ve gotten along with better in the face of a crisis.

  That’s not how Rooster rolls, though.

  “No one wants to be Kate Jackson,” Marissa shot back. “She was the most boring Angel. I mean ... she didn’t have perfect hair. She wasn’t sexy.”

  “I think she was sexy,” I shot back. “Besides, she was the smartest one. I’d rather be the smartest than the prettiest.”

  Marissa rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I can’t believe Gunner has been flirting with you. I mean everyone knows Farrah is the best angel.”

  My cheeks colored at mention of Gunner Stratton, Hawthorne Hollow’s golden boy and another member of Spells Angels. He was a wolf shifter — something I hadn’t much considered despite the dreams that were amping up in my new environment — and we had something of a flirtation going on. He was insistent that we were going to date, although I wasn’t so sure. Would I even stay in Hawthorne Hollow? That wasn’t a foregone conclusion. I didn’t want to get attached to him until I made my decision. It was something I had to give serious thought to. In fact ... oh, wait. The siren was still staring at me.

  “Who is Gunner?” The siren looked almost gleeful. “Is he handsome? I love handsome men.”

  I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t like her attitude. If she’d kept her activities under the radar in the first place, our presence at this lake — however pretty — wouldn’t have been necessary. “Don’t worry about his looks. It doesn’t matter.”

  “He’s totally handsome,” Marissa volunteered, ignoring the furtive look I shot her. “He’s one of those guys who looks as if he should be on a fashion runway. You know ... like Harley-Davidson, but pretty.”

  The siren snorted. “He sounds like he’s right up my alley. Send him my way.”

  “I don’t know that he likes redheads,” Marissa countered. “Well, redheads like you, I mean. He likes redheads like me … and apparently blondes.” She shot me a disdainful look. “He prefers softer redheads, though. We were well on our way to a romance for the ages before Scout here showed up and ruined everything. She’s the new element — although hopefully not for long — and I figure he’ll be over his infatuation pretty quickly and then it will be business as usual.”

  It didn’t surprise me that Marissa was hopeful I would vacate the area. I had news for her, though; I never left an assignment before it was finished and I had no doubt this one would drag on a bit longer. Part of me was gleeful ... if only because I knew it would drive her insane.

  “Is that true?” The siren’s voice was wheedling. “Is Gunner going to trade you in for the old one here?”

  Marissa’s mouth dropped open. “I am not old!”

  “Sure.”

  Marissa’s eyes were accusatory when they landed on me. “Tell her I’m not old.”

  Ugh. This is not how I saw my day going. I was convinced there would be an opportunity for a nap somewhere in my afternoon. I’d gotten only a few hours of sleep thanks to the dream, after all. I had big plans ... and the current predicament didn’t fit into them.

  “She’s young and spry,” I automatically answered. Hey, giving in to Marissa’s whims was better than engaging in a fight. “We all wish we could be as spry as her.”

  “And hot,” Marissa added. She was a vain creature that I didn’t fully understand. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understood about using my looks to get what I wanted out of men on a professional level, but I couldn’t fathom why it was necessary to base my self-worth on how others regarded me ... especially when it came to something as simplistic as one’s exterior.

  “She’s totally hot,” I echoed, holding the siren’s gaze. “Speaking of hot ... you’re pretty smoking.” I felt weird saying the words, but I was trying to appease the woman so it wouldn’t come down to a battle royale. I was fairly certain I would win — like I said, I’d never taken on a siren before so I couldn’t be completely sure — but if there was another way to get rid of the creature, I was all for it. “I would think you would do better in a beach environment ... near an ocean.” Which would make her somebody else’s problem, I silently added. “You can’t keep hanging out here and killing boaters.”

  The siren adopted an innocent expression. “Me? I’m not killing boaters. Why would you even think that?”

  As far as acting talent went, the redhead was sorely lacking. She was like a bad soap opera actress, which was saying something. “Six bodies have washed up on the shore in the past two weeks,” I explained. “All of them had their virtue sucked from them. That’s a siren thing.”

  “Oh, well, that’s terrible,” she drawled. “What does a siren look like? I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open and tell you if I run across one.”

  That was slightly better ... but only slightly. “They look like you.” My affect was calm, flat. “They can manipulate water, like a tsunami, and they sing songs to lure men to their deaths. People have reported hearing singing on the water.”

  “I love a good song.” The siren beamed. “As for the rest, I’m afraid that I’m unaware of what you’re talking about. I’m just a woman who loves the water.”

  Yeah, speaking of that ... . “I thought sirens were drawn to saltwater.”

  “I’m not a siren, so I can’t speak to that. If I was a siren, though, I might point out that saltwater is very drying. Though it has healing properties, saltwater can wear a body down. I much prefer fresh water ... which I’m sure this siren you seek can relate to.”

  I couldn’t hide my smile. She made me laugh. Sure, she was a killer who had wreaked havoc on the area for weeks, but she was kind of funny. A sense of humor was highly underrated in situations like this. That didn’t mean I had time to waste on her. I really was in need of a nap.

  “You need to go.” I folded my arms across my chest and pinned her with a serious look. “You can’t stay here. If you do, we’ll have to kill you.”

  “And who are you to kill anyone?” The siren’s voice turned accusatory. “What makes you so high and mighty? Perhaps this siren you seek is just doing what comes naturally and you
should mind your own business.”

  It was an intriguing thought. Unfortunately, I had a job to do, and I was nothing if not a stickler. I always finished every task placed in front of me. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

  “I see no reason to leave. This is my home. It sounds to me as if you’re new to the area. That means it’s not your home. You’re not the boss of me.”

  I rolled my neck, frustration bubbling up. “I’m going to have to kill you if you don’t willingly leave,” I warned. “I’m serious. You can’t keep killing innocent men. That’s not how this works.”

  She let loose an unladylike snort that was filled with disdain. “Innocent? Please. My song can only call those who aren’t pure of heart and you know it.”

  I didn’t know that. I made a mental note to research sirens while keeping my gaze pinned on her. “I thought you weren’t the siren.”

  Realizing her mistake too late, she narrowed her eyes. “You should turn around,” she threatened. “I find you amusing and am willing to let you leave ... just this once.”

  “That’s funny. That was the same warning I was going to give you.”

  “I’m not leaving.” She was adamant. “This is my home. You can’t make me leave. I’m simply fulfilling my destiny. Singing is what sirens were always meant to do. It’s not my fault you can’t understand that.”

  I frowned. “If you won’t leave of your own volition, we’ll have to make you leave.”

  “Yeah,” Marissa echoed. She was still behind me, which I found more amusing than annoying. I wasn’t worried about taking the siren. Instinctively I knew I had the strength.

  “I look forward to the attempt,” the siren taunted.

  I groaned and rubbed the tender spot between my eyebrows. Apparently this was going to get messy after all. “Okay, but don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

  “Bring it on.”

  TAKING DOWN THE SIREN WAS messier than I’d envisioned. By the time we’d finished, we were covered in dirt, water and sea grass that was so gross it made me shudder. I wasn’t thrilled with the outcome — she didn’t go easily — but Marissa was positively apoplectic.

  “I’m not going on an assignment with you ever again,” she complained as we moved toward the dirt circle where our bikes waited for us. “I’m serious. You’re a menace.”

  I wasn’t exactly hurt by her words. “I killed her, didn’t I? I don’t see what you’re complaining about.”

  “You don’t understand what I’m complaining about?” Marissa was incredulous. “You used an elemental spell. I mean ... an elemental spell.” She was practically shrieking, which did nothing to alleviate the headache threatening to overtake me.

  “It was interesting,” I agreed, amused despite myself.

  “Interesting? She exploded. She left this ... stuff ... all over us.” Marissa grabbed a handful of the sea grass — seriously, who knew that sirens had that inside of them? — and heaved it at me. “You’re not supposed to make our enemies explode. That’s not how this works.”

  “That’s funny. I didn’t realize there were specific rules to fighting.”

  “Well, there are.” She glared at me a moment longer and then turned back to what could loosely be described as a parking lot. “I’m seriously going to talk to Rooster about having you transferred.”

  Rooster wasn’t the sort of guy who kowtowed to others, so I wasn’t exactly worried. “You do that. In fact ... .” I lost my train of thought when I realized we were no longer alone. Three men stood at the far edge of the parking lot, huge Harleys resting in the shadow of a weeping willow. How had we not heard them arrive?

  “Can we help you?” I asked, focusing on our new friends rather than an old argument that was bound to give me a headache.

  The center man of the trio, a huge individual who reminded me of an oak tree, smirked as we approached. His hair, largely covered by a bandana, was salt-and-pepper by his ears. “Hello.” His exterior was amiable enough, but I didn’t trust him.

  “Hello.” I had no idea who he was but I sensed a hint of power the closer I got. I also sensed something else. “You’re a shifter.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  He was playing a game that I recognized well. “It doesn’t matter.” I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the testosterone trio ... and that’s exactly what they were. They were here to flex and I was still in desperate need of a nap. “We should be going.” I directed Marissa toward her motorcycle, and even though she wasn’t the sort to follow orders, she didn’t put up a fight. She was clearly as uncomfortable with the situation as I was, probably the only thing we’d ever agreed upon.

  “Don’t leave so soon,” the leader countered. “We’re just getting to know one another.”

  Getting to know him sounded like pure torture. “I think we’re fine not knowing you.”

  “Oh, really?” Laughter bubbled up as the man looked to his two younger companions. “See, boys. I told you this was the area for us. The women here are feisty, something you were worried about. This place is perfect for us.”

  For some reason I couldn’t identify, his words made me uneasy. “You’re moving here?”

  “We’re definitely considering it.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m Cyrus Marsh. This is my son, Flint.” He gestured toward a younger man who boasted the same eyes but lacked the size. “This is Drake Frost. He’s a good friend and he’s scouting the area with us.”

  Unlike Flint, who had a weak chin and flat aura, Drake was something else. His aura was fiery red ... and he had chiseled cheekbones and onyx eyes. His black hair framed one of those faces that belonged in an action movie. He was so good looking he was almost breathtaking, something that wasn’t lost on Marissa if her sharp intake of breath was to be believed.

  “Oh, my,” she muttered as she fanned herself.

  Drake was the sort who realized he had an effect on women. He smiled, showing off a hint of a dimple that only made him more appealing ... if that was even possible. Despite his handsome countenance, he remained as closed off emotionally as the others.

  I didn’t trust him.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” I perfunctorily shook Cyrus’s hand and then moved toward my bike. “I hope you find what you’re looking for in the area ... I mean a house or whatever.” It was only after the initial words were out of my mouth that I realized it sounded like an invitation I didn’t want to extend.

  Drake chuckled, his lips curving. “I’m sure we will find what we’re looking for.”

  I held his gaze for an extended moment. There was something charming about the man, almost winning, and that was on top of his looks. There was also something chilling. He was more than he pretended to be. “We should be going.”

  Marissa, still entranced with Drake, had to be shoved toward her bike. “Welcome to the area,” she murmured.

  “You shouldn’t leave yet,” Flint called out. “We need a private tour and I’m guessing you’re just the women to provide it ... I mean, if you’re not logistically challenged or anything. I know women have trouble with directions, but I’m willing to put up with a few wrong turns if you’ll show us around.”

  Whatever merriment had been coursing through me moments before evaporated and I didn’t bother to hide my glare. “You’re big, strong men,” I countered. “I’m sure you can find your own way.”

  “Or you could find your way with me,” Flint shot back, puffing out his chest. “I think I have what you’re looking for.”

  His self-assurance was a turn-off, mostly because it was wrapped in ego and simplicity. “I already have what I’m looking for,” I called out, briefly holding Drake’s gaze before climbing on my bike. “Have fun looking around. It’s a beautiful area.”

  “Stay away from that seaweed stuff on the beach,” Marissa called out. “It’s ... toxic.”

  I smiled at her unhappiness. “You should definitely stay away from the seaweed. Otherwise, welcome to Hawthorne Hollow
. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around.”

  Drake’s gaze never wandered from me. “You can count on it.”

  Two

  I made sure to refrain from looking over my shoulder as I drove away from the parking lot, which was basically a circle of dirt that had once been lush and green. Enough locals visited the area during spring and summer to turn it into something else. I was still bothered by the idea that the three shifters had managed to sneak up on me. Normally I was much more aware of my surroundings.

  I kept my eyes forward until I hit the main road and then I pulled over, keeping my bike idling, so I could study the three men from an elevated position. They shouldn’t have been able to hear my bike, but that didn’t stop one of the figures – I was fairly certain it was Drake – from slowly turning until he faced me.

  I sat there for a long time. I refused to turn away and let him win the staring contest that wasn’t really a competition. Eventually, though, I had no choice but to turn back to the road. I couldn’t waste an entire day watching them. My actions would give them power, and there was nothing I hated more than giving an enemy power.

  And, yes, I was certain at least one member of that group was my enemy. Which one, though? That was the question.

  Marissa didn’t bother to wait for me. I couldn’t really blame her. She was long gone when I returned to my drive. I maintained a lazy pace for the duration of the trip back to Hawthorne Hollow … and then I immediately pointed myself toward a local watering hole, The Rusty Cauldron. Even though the Spells Angels had a home base, it was the bar that served as our meeting place, and I knew other members of our group would be there. That somehow seemed important given what happened.

  By the time I arrived at The Cauldron, Marissa was already in the middle of a recitation about how we’d spent our day. It took only a few seconds for me to realize I didn’t come off all that well in the telling.

  “She cast an elemental spell,” Marissa screeched. “Do you have any idea what happens when a siren explodes?”