Lullaby (3 page)

“I went to the police today,” Brian said, and his tone had leveled out again.

“Did you?” Harper asked cautiously. “What did they say?”

“They’re looking for her,” Brian said. “They don’t prioritize runaway teens, and with everything that’s been going on lately, they’re going to do what they can.”

“That’s good.” Harper had finished with the dishes, but she left the tap on, preferring the sound so it would drown out the silence and tension in the room.

“Harper, turn off the water,” Brian said. “I need to tell you something.”

She shut off the faucet but grabbed a rag to wipe down the counter, continuing her attempts to busy herself.

“Harper. Sit down. I need to talk to you.”

“Just a sec, Dad,” Harper said, scrubbing at a nonexistent spot on the counter.

“Harper,” Brian said, with a firmness to his words that made Harper flinch.

She draped the rag over the sink, then went over to the table and sat down across from him. The whole time she kept her eyes lowered, afraid of how she might react if she looked at him directly.

Seeing her father so haggard like that, she was terrified she would spill everything to him. But she couldn’t tell him about the sirens or what had really become of Gemma, and not just because he’d think she was insane.

In fact, that would be better than if he believed her. If he knew that Gemma was a siren, that she’d run off with actual monsters, he would lose his mind trying to protect her, and Harper couldn’t bear the thought of that.

“I have bad news,” Brian said gravely. He reached across the table, wanting to take Harper’s hand, but she wouldn’t give it to him. “When I was at the police station, I found out something.”

She gulped, swallowing down the painful acid in her stomach that wanted to rise. She wasn’t sure what else Brian could’ve possibly found out. And she wasn’t sure that she could handle any more bad news.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” He paused, trying to form the words. “Bernie McAllister has been murdered.”

And then in one horrible rush it all came back to her, pulling all the air from her lungs and twisting her stomach in knots.

Harper had managed to forget about it until now. But that wasn’t quite right, either. She hadn’t forgotten it. It would be impossible to forget about the death of someone who’d been so important to her.

Her mind had blocked it out, giving her a few more peaceful hours when she didn’t have to think about it. But now it was back, the image of his body eviscerated in the trees outside of his cabin.

Bernie was one of the kindest people she’d ever known, a gentle old man with a soft British accent. He’d helped care for both Harper and Gemma after their mom had gotten hurt in the car accident.

Then the sirens had killed him, gutting him like a fish and leaving him to rot as they danced and sang and tore up his home looking for valuables. The worst part of it was that he gladly would’ve given them anything they wanted, and not because they were sirens who put a spell on him, but because Bernie wanted to help everyone.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Brian said, his own voice thick with tears. “I know how fond of him you were.”

Harper put her hand to her mouth as silent tears slid down her cheeks. With the image of his body burning in her mind, she realized she had to form a response. Her father didn’t know that she’d already found out Bernie was dead, and he couldn’t know.

“How…” Harper croaked, barely able to force the word out around the lump in her throat.

“They’re not sure yet,” Brian said, but he lowered his eyes when he said it.

Harper had a feeling that the police had told him more than he was sharing with her, and for a split second she hated them for that. Brian didn’t need to know the details of it. Everyone should be spared that gruesome image if they could be.

“They found his house ransacked,” Brian went on. “They think it was some kind of robbery gone wrong.”

Harper wondered if there was any truth to that. Had the sirens gone to steal from him, and he’d been a casualty? Or had his murder been their primary goal, and the robbery an afterthought?

“He had a doctor’s appointment in town yesterday, and when he didn’t show up, the doctor sent the police out on a well-being check,” Brian said. “With a man of Bernie’s age living alone, the doctor was being cautious. But nobody ever expected to find him murdered.”

“Do they have any suspects yet?” Harper heard herself asking. Her hands were trembling, so she put them on her knees, squeezing them to keep the quaking at bay.

“Not yet,” Brian admitted. “But they’re looking.” He paused. “They think it might have been the same person who’s been killing those boys.”

Harper nodded numbly, knowing for a fact that the same monsters who had killed Luke Benfield and the two other teenage boys had also killed Bernie.

“At least you just spent time with Bernie,” her father said, trying to change the subject and put a brighter spin on everything somehow.

It had only been on Saturday, a few days before, that Harper and Brian had spent the afternoon on Bernie’s Island, catching up with him and checking out his garden. She knew she should’ve found some comfort in that, a warm last memory with an old friend, but there was no comfort for her.

“I know this is a lot to take,” Brian said. “Are you holding up okay?”

“Yeah,” Harper said unconvincingly.

Fortunately, before her dad could press her more about how she was doing, her phone started ringing in her pocket. As she fumbled to get it out, her heart raced in hopes that it was Gemma, but then she saw the number. It was only Daniel again.

She stared at the screen and considered whether to answer it. Part of her really wanted to. If she was being honest with herself, it would feel really good to hear his voice, even if she wasn’t in desperate need of a shoulder to cry on.

But the logical part of her won out, and she clicked ignore. He might know something about Gemma, but Harper wouldn’t be able to hold it together in front of her father if Daniel told her something about her sister.

If Daniel had found something, he’d leave a voice mail, and Harper would check it the very second she was out of Brian’s sight. And if Daniel hadn’t found anything, not answering would save Harper from having a conversation with him. She couldn’t have him distracting her right now.

“Who was that?” Brian asked, his voice brightening at the chance that it might be about Gemma.

“It was just, um, Marcy, from work.” Harper stood up abruptly and shoved her phone in her pocket. “Sorry, Dad, I’m not feeling so well. I think I need to go lie down.”

Brian started to say something, but Harper was already leaving, rushing upstairs. She didn’t go to her room, though. She went to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time for her to throw up.

When she’d finished, she sat down on the cold tiles and rested her head against the wall. She pulled her phone back out. She clicked on the voice mail, just to be sure Daniel hadn’t left any message, and he hadn’t. Harper quickly scrolled through her contact list for Alex’s number.

“Hello?” Alex answered.

“We need to find Gemma,” Harper said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“No.” Harper shook her head, as if he could see her. “I mean, I don’t give a shit what she is or what the girls are. I’m done researching. We need to find
her
.”

Alex let out a sigh of relief. “I was thinking the same thing. We need to find her, and bring her back, by any means necessary.”

FOUR

Withdrawals

Gemma woke up in a cold sweat despite the heat. The glass door to the balcony was open, allowing the wind to blow in, billowing out the curtains and filling the room with the sweet scent of the ocean.

The unfamiliarity of the room only added to her panic, and she sat up quickly, her heart racing. She was gasping, breathing in the salty air in heavy gulps, and that helped a bit. Her head still pounded, and the watersong rang in her ears.

That was the worst part. Everything about the last few days was horrible, but the watersong made it impossible to think or rest. It haunted her dreams, keeping her awake in the night, and made it so she couldn’t even feel comfortable in her own skin.

She wanted to crawl right out of her body, but she couldn’t. She was trapped in it, trapped with that incessant music and those awful girls in this colorless house.

That was the best way to describe the beach house—colorless. Penn had picked it out, choosing the most luxurious property she could find on the ocean. Even Gemma had to admit that it was nice, very high-class and expansive, but it had to be the whitest place she’d ever seen.

The room she stayed in—the one that Penn had informed her would be “her” room—was entirely white. Not eggshell or ivory or off-white but pure, startling white. The walls, the curtains, the bedding. Even the artwork on the walls had a white frame, surrounding some kind of abstract painting in swirling shades of white and gray.

And the rest of the house was more of the same. What little color did manage to seep into the house was always pale gray or the occasional muted blue. It was almost unbearably pristine.

Gemma didn’t know how anyone could live like this, but the home owner wasn’t very helpful by way of answers. Not that Gemma had tried talking to him all that much. Penn and the other sirens had cast their spell on him, turning him into a mindless sycophant, and Gemma didn’t really have any urge to interact with that.

Besides, her mind was preoccupied. Not only did she have that awful watersong gnawing at her constantly, she felt like hell. It was like the worst flu she’d ever had. Her entire body ached, from her bones to her skin. Nausea would sweep over her in awful waves, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up.

“I take it you didn’t sleep well,” Thea said, seeming to magically appear in the doorway to Gemma’s room. Her red hair hung loose around her face, blowing back in the breeze like she was the star of a music video.

“I slept fine,” Gemma lied. She threw off her blankets, which were drenched in sweat, and climbed out of bed.

Thea snorted. “I can tell.”

Gemma went over to her dresser—also white—and rummaged through the drawers for fresh clothes. She’d taken very few outfits with her when she left home, but Lexi had given her plenty of hand-me-downs.

The only thing she’d taken with her that really meant anything was a picture from home. It was of her, Harper, and their mom, taken shortly before the accident, when their mom still lived at home.

That picture—her one true possession—she kept in a drawer, buried beneath her new clothes. She’d left it in the frame, hoping that would protect it when she carried it in her book bag through the ocean, and it had, some, but the picture was all warped and wrinkled.

As she pulled out her clothes, she looked at it for a second, missing a family she knew she’d probably never see again, then hurried to cover it back up with clean panties and slammed the drawer shut.

“Did you want something?” Gemma asked. “Because I need to get changed.”

“So change,” Thea said, and didn’t move from her spot in the doorway.

“Can I get a little privacy?” Gemma asked.

Thea rolled her eyes. “You need to get over it. We’re all girls here.”

“Isn’t Sawyer running around?” Gemma asked.

“He’s somewhere,” Thea admitted, and looked away. She didn’t leave the room, exactly, but turned her back to Gemma. “I think Penn gave him some kind of task before she left.”

Gemma knew this was the best she could hope for, so she hurried to change into a clean dress and underwear.

“Penn left?” Gemma asked, not hiding the surprise in her voice.

“Yeah, Penn and Lexi went shopping,” Thea explained. “New house, new clothes. That’s their motto.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Gemma asked.

“I had to stay and babysit you and Sawyer.” Thea glanced over her shoulder, and when she saw that Gemma was dressed, she turned back around.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Gemma said.

“Yeah, you do,” Thea said flatly. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Gemma muttered.

She brushed past Thea and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Thea followed her, but Gemma hadn’t expected any different.

When she looked in the mirror above the vanity, Gemma realized that Thea hadn’t completely told the truth. While Gemma did look worse than she had the day before, and even worse than she had the day before that, she was still remarkably beautiful.

Her brown hair had golden highlights and soft waves, and even though she’d just woken up from a fitful sleep, it actually looked pretty good. She’d always been pretty, but since turning into a siren, she’d become radiantly gorgeous.

As a siren, she should’ve been a deep tan color that almost glowed. That glow was missing, and her skin had a weird ashen quality to it, yet even that managed to look lovely on her.

She grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Her hair was damp from sweat, and she didn’t like how it felt hanging around her face.

“You must feel like hell,” Thea commented.

Gemma could see Thea in the reflection of the mirror, standing behind her with her arms crossed over her chest. Gemma turned on the tap so she could splash cold water on her face.

“I feel fine,” she said without looking at Thea.

“We can hear you moaning in your sleep,” Thea told her.

There were only two things Gemma remembered clearly from her dreams: the watersong, and Alex.

She’d dreamt of the last day they’d spent together, kissing and talking and holding each other in his bed. But in her dreams, that day never ended, and she got to stay with him forever.

It had broken her heart to leave him, but she knew it was the best thing she could do for him. Whatever it was that she’d become, it would only bring him harm.

She’d made a promise to the sirens that if they spared him, if they left Alex and her sister Harper alone, then she’d go with them.

Gemma was determined to keep up her end of the pact. She’d do everything in her power to protect Alex and Harper. Even if that meant leaving them forever.