Siren Song (Blood Singer #2)

Siren Song (Blood Singer #2) Page 36

Not since the end of the first age.

The end of the first age had been quite a while ago, B.C. According to the legends, which were really all that was left, the first age had ended with the destruction of Atlantis.

One of the sailors came up with a message for Hiwahiwa. She excused herself, leaving me alone looking out to sea with plenty to think about. I wasn’t sure where Ren had gone off to or if she was even on the boat. Hard to keep track of someone who can teleport. I didn’t mind. It was kind of nice, feeling the breeze against my skin. I had a few more minutes before the sunscreen gave out. Judging from how quickly we appeared to be approaching land, I could stay right here until we arrived without risking skin damage.

I did turn to look back, see if I could catch a glimpse of Bubba’s yacht. I could see Mona’s Rival, but she was a goodly ways out on the horizon. Hard to judge the exact distance, particularly with the visible haze caused by the magical barrier that separated us, but too far to swim for sure. I was betting she would be invisible from the island. Nor were they being guarded. Not a single ship had been left behind. Was that a good or bad thing?

I watched the seabirds swirl and swoop in what truly appeared to be organized chaos, a sort of dance that seemed to be for the sole purpose of my personal entertainment. They scattered once we reached the inlet, and then I watched the sailors go about their duties. Hiwahiwa didn’t return until the boat was fully at rest, at which point she approached, smiling broadly.

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to talk more. Having so many royals on the island is making my job a bit more complex than it normally would be.”

“It’s all right. I was enjoying the trip.”

“You like the ocean?”

I didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure how to put what I felt into words without sounding like an idiot. Then the words formed in my mind like magic. I love the ocean. It’s where I go to find peace and calm when life’s storms are too much for me, the one place where I can truly relax and clear my head. Its beauty restores me, its majesty awes me. I need it like I need the air I breathe and the food I eat.

Another smile, one that lit up her whole face. I understand. It’s like that for us all. And your affinity with the birds shows that you are truly one of our own. You belong here.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I’ve never belonged anywhere.

The captain approached. “Ladies. If you are ready.” He gestured toward the gangplank.

Hiwahiwa led me down onto docks that were absolutely ordinary, perfectly modern, and, I guessed, well designed. Stepping out of the harbor area, however, was like taking a step out of time. A perfectly tended path wound through lush greenery, past tiny waterfalls and other natural wonders. Overhead rang the raucous calls of birds and small mammals. A heady perfume of tropical flowers and rich, damp volcanic earth filled my nostrils. Higher in the sky, the gulls soared ahead of us as though announcing our arrival.

The trail wound slowly upward. My companion and I rounded one last bend and stepped into a secluded glade ringed with brightly colored hibiscus.

As we passed into the clearing, musicians began pounding a compelling rhythm on skin drums. We moved forward, along ground that rose in ripples that looked as if they had been formed by the downward movement of an ancient lava flow. The rising ground made for a natural dais at the far end of the clearing, perhaps a hundred yards to the right of a steep waterfall that splashed noisily into a wide pool of water so clear and pure I could clearly see every stone and swimming fish.

I didn’t waste much time looking at it or any of the other natural wonders surrounding me. Because we had come into the presence of royalty, judging by the arrangement of six thrones carved from the native stone, in graduating sizes and complexity leading to the massive center chair.

The thrones were occupied, each chair seating a siren of imperious beauty. While I couldn’t be sure, I could almost guess which woman represented which ocean based on their appearance. Each was completely unique in her appeal, coloring, and dress. One throne was empty. I presumed it was for the Atlantic queen who no longer existed.

They were dark skinned and light, Asian and Caucasian. One woman bore a particularly striking resemblance to Ren—presumably her mother, queen of the Mediterranean branch. A tiny woman with Japanese features was, I assumed, the ruler of the Sea of Japan.

On the center and largest throne sat a tall blond woman who looked remarkably like me, only better. A lot better. Her blond hair was loose, flowing unhindered to the waist of a crimson lavalava hemmed in glittering gold. Her skin was too fair to actually tan, but it had the hint of a warm glow. All of her features were beautiful, but her eyes . . . her eyes were unforgettable. Because while she had the body of a youth, one look in those storm gray depths and you knew she was ancient. There was both wisdom and cold, implacable pragmatism in her gaze. I knew I should look at each of the queens, take their measure. But I couldn’t seem to look away from Queen Lopaka.

Even without the benefit of my vampire talents I would’ve felt the power in that clearing. It was thick, thrumming, almost a separate, living presence that grew with each passing moment.

Ren appeared beside Hiwahiwa and the two of them led me forward until I stood directly in front of the row of thrones. The drumming continued, growing in intensity as more women, sirens all, filed into the clearing, sitting on the ground in groups of four or five on either side of the main path.

At a tiny gesture from Lopaka, the noise of the drums and the murmurs of the crowd stopped in an instant. The rushing splash of water was deafening in the sudden silence.

Hiwahiwa bent almost double before her queen, her long hair brushing the ground at her feet. “Your Majesties. I present to you the abomination, Celia Kalino Graves.”

Abomination. Great. Just great. Although I suppose it was better to find out right at the beginning where I stood.

She means no insult. It is simply a label for what you are: not human, not siren, not even vampire.

The voice in my head was calm and melodic, as if it was set to music I couldn’t quite hear, a song so heartbreakingly pure that I’d never forget it if I did.

I shook my head, trying to break the spell. It didn’t help much. But that was all right. The warmth of the unheard music clashed in harsh counterpoint against the harsh words of the tiny Japanese queen. She rose from her throne next to Lopaka. Glaring at me with cold, dark eyes, her beautiful features twisted into an expression of disgust.

Again the words formed inside my skull. This creature, this . . . thing . . . has no place among us. Siren blood may be in her veins, but it is blood corrupted. She was summoned to appear before us weeks ago. Where has she been? She hasn’t even the decency to show respect by bringing a gift for the queen of her line.

There was no sound, but I could feel the stirring of their minds against mine. Psychics. They were all psychics. Well, I’d guessed as much and Hiwahiwa’s actions on the way here had warned me. Had she done it deliberately? I was grateful either way.

Each voice in my head had its own melody. Some beautiful, some harsh. It wasn’t music, precisely, unless they chose to focus it that way. It was a psychic call. Until now I hadn’t understood what my gran meant when she’d tried to explain it to me. Hell, maybe she hadn’t understood it, either.

I took a single, small step, putting myself a fraction ahead of Ren and Hiwahiwa. Bowing at the waist, I tried to focus my thoughts and project them, the same way I’d done with Hiwahiwa on the boat. I knew I was bad at it, clumsy. Several of the faces surrounding me were openly sneering. But I kept trying. Because if I couldn’t use telepathy, they’d hold it against me and claim that I wasn’t siren enough to live.

I am here. And I have a gift. My thought wasn’t musical. It was harsh as the caw of a gull. But I heard it. And so did they. For just an instant, I saw a hint of a smile twitch at the corner of Lopaka’s perfect lips.

By all means, bring it forward. Her voice was calm, but I would swear I felt a hint of amused approval.

I reached into my jacket while I was still obviously outside striking distance and drew one of the pair of knives Bruno had made for me. Designed to slay monsters, it was a powerful tool. As I laid the weapon across my palm, hilt toward her, my vision misted. The knife was the perfect gift. It was the undamaged one of a formerly matched pair. The other still worked, still held its magic, but slaying a thousand-year-old übervamp had changed it. Instead of silver, it was black, and no amount of polishing would restore it. On the other hand, this knife was perfect. Magically powerful, it was beautiful and practically priceless. Bruno’s feelings for me and mine for him were bound up in that blade as surely as the magic was. It killed a part of me to offer it. But it was the part of me already injured by his leaving and this was the only thing I had that was worthy of her. I would keep the other knife, use it, and remember him. But this one . . . this one would be my gift to the queen of all the sirens.

I extended the weapon to her, keeping my eyes down, not so much from respect but to keep my tears from showing. I was crying. I couldn’t help it. Never mind that this was the worst possible time and place for it, the pain was suddenly there, as fresh and intense as that moment in the courthouse when he told me he was leaving.

Lopaka stood. Her hands deliberately clasped mine for a long moment before she took the knife. The gesture was warm and curiously gentle. I glanced up. Our eyes met and I realized she knew, could feel exactly what giving this knife away cost me—what Bruno meant to me.

When she held the knife aloft, rainbows shot from its surface, just like in the safe when the magic of the Wadjeti had touched it. A single note sounded, pure and clear, echoing through the clearing like a crystal chime.

Wow. Even after she brought it down to look at the blade more closely, I could feel that tone in my chest lingering softly as a dream.

A most worthy gift. Crafted in love and pain, as is most that is powerful and lasting. I accept it from you with great thanks, daughter of my line.

There was an actual, audible gasp at that and the other queen—

Chiyoko, her name is Chiyoko.