The Siren's Tale (39 page)

“
Goodbye, Mrs. Drake.”

“
Good luck, hon. Here is Alexander. He'll see you make it through the door this time. Safe travels. And don't forget your wig.”

Lila laughs long and hard after the door closes.
Imagine, showing up disguised as one of Harry’s underpaid Indian employees! Marlena would be a lot of fun to hang around with in this dullsville. Too bad she is so fixated on Harry. It would be fun helping the young siren find a life more in keeping with her true nature.

After the confrontation with Lila, Marlena drives at top speed to Mill's Creek. She can no longer think of Harry in the same resplendent light as before. Lila's poor opinion of her husband is infectious. There is nothing like the disinterest of a rival to take the wind out of a siren's sails.

After the fiasco a
t Drake's Roost, Marlena is glad to get back to her cousin's home and for the additional diversion of a team of local men finishing work on the antique mill wheel by the pond. They have a challenging deadline, as the old apparatus must be operational by Sunday night.

Marlena
brings out cookies and cider to the men, hoping to lighten the gloom in her soul with activity. Get in there with the guys and make it happen, she tells herself.

“
What more needs to be done?” she asks the foreman.

“
Pump needs to be primed, ma'am, but the men are on their break. Hey, you over there, hold this rope for me, will you? We had a time getting the rope out of the pond. It fell in and got tangled up on the bottom. It's attached to the fly wheel under the housing. Hey, you, hold this rope so the wheel don’t move!”

“
I will hold the rope,” Marlena says firmly. “Let them rest.”

He shrugs.
“You’re the boss. Just don’t let go.”

Holding the rope
requires little exertion, but after a minute, beads of sweat break out on her forehead. Oh no, she thinks, I'm about to toss again. The fear of her queasiness makes her weak in all her joints, and she feels her grip on the rope slipping.

“
Over here!” she calls out. “Help me, please.”

No one hears her. T
he mill wheel is slowly beginning to turn, and her fingers are slipping off the rope. She remembers in a flash how Cassandra stopped the well bucket from slipping out of Nicholas's grasp. Marlena looks again at the mill wheel and applies her willpower.

“
Stop,” she commands it. Meanwhile, out of the corner of her eye, she sees a moving blur, a young man in leather chaps approaching at a run.

It is Apollo Nelson coming to her rescue.
He grabs the rope from her and twists it around his own hand, but there is no longer a need. The mill wheel has already stopped.

“
You seem always to be saving me,” she says to Apollo.

He scratches his head, perplexed
. “The wheel stopped before I got here. Those gears must need more oil.”

“
Yes. That must be it.”

The wave of nausea has passed, b
ut Marlena remains standing there after Apollo has walked away. She is staring into the still, cold waters of the pond.

“
I am a siren,” she tells herself. “It is 1977, and I am a fucking, card-carrying siren. Maybe I will have my own TV series one day, 'Paranormal Roots.'“

She sees the lessons delivered overnight are a crash course in the evolution of her kind. As a dwindling siren line, the
Zanelli women, their desires, and even their actions are linked across the generations. More than a family curse is involved. Their powers are truly double-edged swords, and they take some getting used to.

There is the so-called curse, if she can get her head around believing in it. The curse has wreaked hell with the
line's ability to survive, and here is the devilish thing about it. When it comes to getting it on with men, the Zanelli sirens appear to be damned if they do and extinguished if they don't.

The rope burn on her hand is a tangible reminder of Cassandra's adventures in 1900. It is also one more
wake-up call. She is thirty and single, and a siren to boot. On her pregnancy hangs the future of her siren line. With or without Harry, she must make the best decision possible, for everyone's sake. Sunday night, at the Christmas Fire Night Ball, she will force the issue with Harry and make her final decision.

I am stationed outside my old bedroom door, awaiting the climax to the drama set in motion. It is the tail end of Chloe's Christmas Fire Night Ball. Marlena and Harry have finally eluded those in their respective parties. They are now alone, face-to-face inside
,
just as I had envisioned they would be.

Marlena
is laying out her distressing week for Harry, telling him about the unexpected pregnancy diagnosis on Monday, how an urgent note she left for him, days ago in his hotel suite, went astray, how she has been desperate to see him since then. “We need to decide what to do,” she urges him, “and quickly.”

She does not mention that her siren line depends on her going ahead with the pregnancy—smart girl.

Harry says nothing at first. Marlena perches on Chloe's horsehair chair, her face alert. Harry remains standing. Marlena's expression changes, from anticipation to horror, as Harry launches, in a loud, clear voice, into his mistaken case against her.

Using the roughest of terms (such as
“entrapment”), he directly accuses her of pushing him into divorce and remarriage, all with an eye to her getting a claim on his assets. He cites her signed divorce papers (“they were left out for me to see in your room”); the vandalism and messaging in the bar (“staged to elicit my sympathy”), and finally, Coddie's pugnacious behavior (“when he corralled me in the hotel two days ago, he told me you were pregnant, that I broke our so-called gentleman's agreement”).

Harry sums up his complaint calmly, in a tone devoid of emotion.
“Try to see it my way, lass. Blackmail is not the Christmas gift I was expecting from you. No strings attached, we said. I believe the pregnancy, if it exists at all, is a deliberate ploy, intended to rope me into marrying you.”

I wonder if
Marlena now bitterly regrets having confided her plight to Coddie in a weak moment, which caused her estranged husband to come running here? It would be comic if it weren't so painful, how she is pursued by a bevy of dazzled men, while she pursues Harry, who is immune to her powers and blind to her human susceptibilities. It is obvious she is quite undone by the brutality of her lover's unfounded accusations. She bursts into tears. The young woman who has never cried before her lover and seldom complained, weeps and weeps and weeps her siren's tears.

The extraordinary flood moves even Harry, first to alarm and then to a reconsideration of the facts.

“Okay, okay. I'll believe you about the pregnancy, if you swear it was an accident. But how did the vandals get into the bar, if you weren't involved? Zebub was locked up tight. You and I have the only keys.”

“
I don't know,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I honestly don't.”

He sits down on the bed and pulls
Marlena into his lap, stroking her hair. Meanwhile he looks, surreptitiously, toward the door. Harry is expecting company.

Look out there
.
Marlena, look
.

“
This town sucks for the holidays. Let's blow this scene, my love. Hightail it to Key West, where no one knows us. We can drink margaritas on the beach and make love under the stars. We'll celebrate and make a plan for little Harry.”

Marlena
smiles through her tears. At long last, she has heard what she wanted her lover to say. He holds her by her heaving shoulders, looking smug, as though he holds four aces. I am gagging and thinking the game is lost. Will she remember her home schooling now, when it counts?

Think,
Marlena, think. And while you're thinking, take a look outside the door. 

Thank Goddess, the sentimental redhead hears me. She peers carefully at the crack in the door, where an ash-blonde woman with fake tits and cheap makeup awaits a signal. The woman is making a face intended for Harry. Her face is familiar to
Marlena, which at first puzzles her. Then she remembers dropping off a party invitation to her old schoolmate, Lorna Anderson. Whoo-ah!

“
Someone out there seems impatient to see you,” says Marlena to Harry, as she makes an abrupt move out of his arms. I gasp for joy.

“
Oh, that's nobody, only my pot connection. She must have seen us and followed us up, to see if we wanted anything.”

He is lying, kid. 

“Let's invite her in, my love,” Harry purrs, looking like a cat licking cream from its whiskers. He gapes at Marlena, as if to say he is perfectly innocent of having planned Lorna's approach, but a twitch in his eyelid gives him away.

“
I know who she is, Harry. Her name is Lorna Anderson. I went to school with her. I was supposed to ask you about finding a bloody job for her twin brother. I failed to do so, but I am not at all disposed to talk to her now.”

“
She is my pot connection.”

“
Yeah, you already said that.”

“
Works at the Sheriff's Office, no less. Well, what is the matter, lass? Aren't you going to invite your old classmate in? Suddenly you don't like pot? I'm sure she has some on her. Sure as I'm sitting here, waiting on you to be hospitable, by Mungo.”

Marlena's
mind seems to be elsewhere as Harry rambles on about how Lorna sold him some pot and one thing had led to another, “…if you know what I mean, honey. Let's have some fun with her tonight. Whaddya say?”

How is your crystal ball looking now, Marlena? Do you want this dick around while you raise your child?

Marlena
says, “I wonder whether sex without pot would be any good for us?”

“
What? What in hell are you talking about?”

I am getting more and more excited about our chances. Harry is fumbling with his words, saying he is planning to dump Lorna because she calls the house and pesters his wife about the job for her brother.
Marlena is not buying it.

“
Dump her as a pot connection, or dump her as a mattress polo partner?”

“
Come on, Marlena, invite the chick in. Let's have some fun, the three of us. She is up for it; I am certainly up for it. Aren't you? Don't be a drag, my love.”

So,
Marlena, here is the crossroads in your life. You must make a decision. The top priority of the father of your child is to indulge himself in a sexual fantasy. His deepest interest lies in having a three-way, right here on my old bed. Meanwhile his wife Lila is wandering around drunk and you two still haven't had a serious discussion about your pregnancy. Wake up! Is this human really someone you want to spend your life with or sacrifice your child for? Wouldn't you rather have someone of your own kind to love and cherish?

Marlena
shakes her flaming hair back and lifts her chin. Hands on hips, she stands up to her full height and stares her charming, selfish lover down with her blazing eyes. When I see he is cowering in front of her, I begin to dance around the room, playing my zither. “You Don't Own Me…”

“
Harry, you are a shit, not fit to wipe my ass or your wife’s. Even Lorna's, for that matter. You aren't the man I thought you were. It is over. Make up with your wife and go home, if she'll consent to go home with you.”

He wipes his face as though she spit at him. Maybe she did! Go, girl!

“Make up with Lila? Whaddya mean?”

“
Well, when I talked to Lila at Drake's Roost, she said she was planning to file for divorce. Why, you may wonder? Because you are a cold snake who cares for nothing but yourself. Just a heads up, Harry; consider it a final courtesy. If you want some head tonight, you can try getting it from the lady outside the door. Giving you head has become a tiresome bore to me.”

“
What in the name of thunder were you doing at Drake's Roost?”

“
Call me crazy. I went to see my lover about our child.”

His eyes veer away; for a split second, he appears guilt-stricken.

“Look at me, Harry. I have a new plan for my life. It is one that doesn't involve waiting around for the privilege of sucking your dick. I intend to make a difference.”

“
But what about Key West?”

“
What about it?”

“
Didn't you hear me say just now we could run away to the Keys? I'll divorce Lila. I'll dump Lorna. It will be like the old days again, just me and you, my love. And our baby, if that is what you want.”

The vintage smile he flashes is lopsided.

“Nice try, Harry, but more than a tad late. I don't have time to explain now, but one day, I'll tell you a long story about our ancestors, Cassandra Vye and Curly Drake, and how they fucked up my family.”

He groans. 

“Like our ancestors, you and I have hurt innocent people. I'm downright ashamed of us. The way I see it, we have serious penance to do. As you often point out, there are no strings attached between us. So you are on your own.”

“
Nice of you,” he says drily.

“
As for me, beginning now, I will stop treating my family like shit. Next, I'm going to Key West. Only not for an escape with you. I will help a good friend restore her historic house and get my professional life back on track, the one that got stalled when I took up waiting on you. And then, Mr. Drake, I will come back here and have my baby, with no help from you. I will save as many houses as I can from your development schemes. In short, I will kick your ass!”

I applaud
Marlena as she storms out the door, then holds it open for Lorna, who skulks past her and goes to sit on the bed beside Harry.

Now the ordeal is over, and
Marlena is standing in the hallway, panting and still digesting all that has happened. I wonder, is it possible she guessed at the nefarious plot at the back of Harry's mind, to get his heir away from her? He has circuit judges in his pocket, and it would not be difficult to prove her an unfit mother.

I am
impressed by the strength Marlena has shown, but another challenge lies dead straight ahead. We must act quickly, as Hawker is on his way, and Marlena's life hangs in the balance. Until this moment, I was unsure what I would do at such a juncture, but now I am sure of it.

“
Take the cloak hanging on the peg, cousin, and put it on. Letty Brown-Hawker is dead, and her husband is on his way to kill you.”

Her rounded eyes dart
around to see where my voice is coming from. When she can't see anyone, she starts to run down the stairs. I grasp her arm and pull her back; she cries out, “Who is there?”

“
Cassandra. Do as I say, Marlena. Put the cloak on. Its magic powers now belong to you.”

“
Cassandra?”

As though in a trance
, Marlena slowly takes the traveling cloak from the peg and studies it. There is no time to lose, as I hear Hawker on the first stair tread. I grab the cloak from her and slip it over her shoulders; then I grab her hand and flash the incantation, 5—0—5. Marlena becomes invisible at the precise moment Hawker comes thundering to the top of the stairs in pursuit of her.

From insi
de the bedroom, tinkling laughter emerges. Hawker presses his inflamed ear against the door, then frowns. From listening to the chatter, he knows Marlena is not in there. It is clear to me what is on his mind. He must find and kill Marlena. He must avenge his dead lover and stop the redheaded siren, the woman who has thwarted all their plans.

He turns around. He and
Marlena are face to face, but thanks to our cloak, the madman cannot see her. She has vanished into the thin air of distorted time; it is only a matter of a minute, but the short respite saves her precious life.

Cursing, Hawker hurries
down the stairs and heads outdoors.

Marlena is out of danger. But meantime all hell, literally, has broken loose elsewhere.

A crowd has gathered, huddled together for warmth, at the western side of the pond. There, beside the glittering, revolving mill wheel,
Letty Brown-Hawker is holding forth, preaching at Marlena's mother.

“
YOU, THERE, FAITH BELLUM. THE SPIRIT OF CRAZY HORSE SPEAKS THROUGH ME. HEED MY WORDS, ACCURSED WOMAN!”

Dumbfounded,
Faith shifts her stance, but stands her ground.

“
THE ROTTEN FRUIT OF THY WOMB IS THE WHORE WHO IS CARRYING SATAN'S CHILD. THE CURSE OF WIDOW BROWN LIES HEAVY ON THIS TOWN WHICH HARBORS THY DAUGHTER AND HER EVIL SPAWN. GOD WILL PUNISH US WITH TWO DEATHS TONIGHT!”

As if on cue, the ground rumbles beneath
Letty's feet. A fissure in the earth under the mountain is violently shaking. The psychic totters wildly in her position on the pond's edge and finally falls backwards into its frigid waters. 

“
SLANDERER,” Faith screams. She throws off her coat and leaps into the water, pounding at Letty with both fists. The heavier woman pushes back, but meantime she is sinking lower into the pond. One end of her turban continues to wind ever more tightly around her thick neck; the other end is tangled in the revolving mill wheel. Suddenly, she disappears.