Siren Nights (Series Part 1) (The Lure) (3 page)

***

As it happened, the bookstore had closed at
three. But Jason rapped twice on the door and it opened with a jingle to reveal
a young woman with a brown ponytail tied with a pink scrunchie. She wore a
tee-shirt and cargo pants.

The young woman pointed an old-looking
fountain pen straight at Jason. “Oh, it’s you. You brought a date here? How...
cheap,” Her eyebrow arched.

“Sorry, no time to explain sis,” Jason
replied, taking my hand and leading me into the building. He was wearing thick
nylon gloves, which seemed odd for the relative warmth of the day. I blushed.
We really must have seemed like a couple.

The door closed behind us. The inside of
the store was divided by a tall double row of bookshelves into two aisles. “And
keep that ‘Closed’ sign out there, Claire.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “I would have done
it anyway, with or without you. So who is this girl and why does she look like
she’s running from the mob?”

“Her name is Anna,” replied Jason. “Anna,
this is my sister Claire… and the guy outside didn’t seem like a mobster to
me...”

I sighed. “No, he’s not with the mob. He
just... started acting so scary all of a sudden. He’ll probably apologize for
it tomorrow, but I don’t really want to see him now.”

“And that’s your right,” Claire said with a
nod. “Anyone who won’t respect you doesn’t deserve your respect either.

If only if it were that simple, I thought.
Sometimes respect had to be earned. No one “deserved” respect from the
beginning, my mother had always told me. Not that she ever gave me much
respect.

“Anyway, glad the mob’s not after you.”
Claire seemed satisfied.

“Um... thanks.” I said.

“I’m going out for a bit,” said Jason. “You
can stay here as long as you want.”

My eyes flicked nervously to Claire, but
she just nodded. “Feel free to browse while you’re here,” she said, turning her
attention to a brown ledger on her desk. “And ask me anything about the books.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “You’re closed.”

Claire snorted. “That just means I don’t
want to be interrupted by a crowd of tourists while I’m doing the balances or
stopping for a bank run. Nice skirt, by the way,” she observed.

I looked down, realizing I was still in my
waitresses outfit. “Um... thank you.” Was she making fun of me?

I moved to the shelves themselves. They
went back further than I expected, given the shop’s small facade, and were
completely crammed with books: from the closed drawers at the bottom to the
wide shelves holding thick hardbacks in the center and all the way up to the
narrow shelves for paperbacks on top.

Each shelf held a different selection. I
tried to discern the reasoning behind the organization, but failed. The poetry
was next to the science fiction, which itself was shelved right next to the
sparsely populated self-help section.

And right next to the classic literature
was a combination display of atlases on the bottom and paperback romance novels
at the top. The bright pink and white bindings contrasted starkly with the
somber, plain colors right next to it. My eyes lingered over them, possibly
attracted by the garish contrast.

Claire looked up from the ledgers. “Oh,
you’re a romance fan? I’ve got a regular who’s really into eighties and
nineties trade pubs.  Most of those you can’t really find anymore. They had
their run, so to speak.”

I nodded without really understanding.
“Well, it’s been a while for me too,” I said somewhat lamely. Now that she
mentioned it, I had really enjoyed them when I was a teenager... why had I
stopped again?

Then I remembered and blushed at the
memory. Brad was the reason. He always made fun of me when I read them. “Silly
chick lit,” he called those books.

“No time like the present to pick one up
again,” Claire said helpfully.

I stretched out one hand with trepidation.
I hadn’t seen Brad in nearly seven years, but the shame I felt then was as
alive as ever. “Girls will be girls,” he had said then and his laughter echoed
in my mind. This was stupid.

“You know, a lot of people look down at
romance novels,” said Claire. “I don’t think they quite understand what the
appeal really is.”

“The appeal?...Isn’t that... the
relationship?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, sorta,” she said, fixing me
with a ‘but everyone knows that’ look. “But that’s not really the whole story.
See, a lot of books have romance elements in them, but they don’t have the same
draw to romance fans... the language is different, you see.”

“The language?” I queried Claire with a
puzzled frown.

“Yeah. ‘Purple prose’ or what have you,
‘heaving bosoms’ and ‘throbbing man-hoods’ to name some stereotypes. People
think of it as ‘bad English,’ but personally I don’t really think it’s ‘bad’ so
much as being a different way to communicate emotions you otherwise have
trouble with."

“Those words evoke powerful images by
triggering your emotional mind subconsciously, even as your rational mind can’t
digest them. So communication isn’t as precise, but you can understand what the
author meant, either because they sound like words you do understand or because
the sound of the word itself has some unexpected connotation in your mind.”

Claire shrugs. “Of course, it’s not
perfect. The best authors are both evocative AND precise. But if you prefer one
over the other, who is to say what’s best? Every book isn’t for every person.
What matters is your experience.”

“The long and short of it is, if you like
it, you like it. Some people disapprove, but they suck. End of story.”

I grabbed from the shelf, Contessa of
Twilight, one of the few darker colored books in the sea of pink and white.
Below the gold-etched title a dancing figure in a dark grey Victorian era dress
formed a perfect arch from her hands to her back. I sat down on the stool to
read.

“Oh, that one. Yeah, that’s about an
eighteenth century lady who falls in love with a thief, sneaking out to see him
behind her father’s back. It’s pretty good.”

I nodded and walked up to the counter.
“I’ll take it,” I declared, before I could change my mind.

The door opened as Jason returned. “I’m
back,” he said. As his eyes fell on my purchase, I tensed involuntarily.

“Oh good, you found something!” Jason said
with a nod. I searched his face for traces of mockery, but didn’t find any.

“Thought my sister’s books would all be too
old for you,” he added in a stage whisper.

“Excuse me for liking old books,” Claire
retorted, but she didn’t seem too angry. In fact, she seemed almost... pleased?

“Don’t forget the little bag,” he said
breezily. “That’s the best part.”

My purchase wrapped in brown paper and
tucked beneath my arm, I finally left the bookstore. I thanked Claire for my
purchase as Jason and I walked out the door. She called out, “Don’t be shy. 
You know where I’m at if you need any more books.” The sun was setting, having
just descended below the clouds.

Something tugged at my chest, an odd
reluctance to leave. But it was getting late.

The door rang shut behind me.

***

Exhausted by my long day, I headed back to
the flat I shared with my roommates. Tiffany would be gone already for her
night shift at the hospital, but maybe Elena would be up.

So I thought anyway, but instead Tony stood
in front of the door. He lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey.”

“Um…hi.” I said with a tentative wave back.

“We’re having a meeting. Got a moment?”

My heart sank. Brett must have said
something to him.

I put on my best innocent smile. “Sure.
Give me a minute to change.”

We met at the bar down the street. Tara was
already at the counter, drinking a bottle of beer both dark and European. She
rose languidly and we all headed to a booth. Tony ushered me into a corner and
then sat down beside me. He put a hand on my thigh and I pretended my stockings
itched, knocking him off to scratch.

Brett wasn’t there. “So what is this all
about?” I asked before he could arrive.

“Brett said he had something important to
tell us.”

I looked carefully from Tony to Tara. They
didn’t seem to have any idea what that “something” was. Or at least, they
didn’t have a reaction to it if they did. Tara wasn’t even looking at me, but
was staring off, bored, towards the back of the bar.

So maybe Brett hadn’t poisoned them against
me. That was something. I’d get a chance to tell my side of the story.

Then again, what story was there? Brett had
hit on me and got rejected. There wasn’t any time to make up some sort of
story. He was smart about vampires, but he wasn’t a smooth liar... not like
Trevor had been.

Remembering Trevor was upsetting, even five
years later. Especially the time he convinced all of our mutual friends that I
was crazy when he cheated on me. I really did attract assholes it seemed. Or
maybe every man was terrible, I thought with a sinking heart.

Unbidden, Jason’s face flashed in front of
my mind. I shooed it away. He was probably just as bad, deep down. I just
hadn’t gotten to know him that well. Better that I never saw him again and I
could fantasize that one good man existed in the world.

Well that was cheerful of me. I hadn’t even
started drinking yet.  Maybe now wouldn’t be a bad time to start. I signaled a
passing waitress and ordered a beer.

I was about halfway down it when Brett
finally arrived, setting a laptop on the corner of the crusty table gingerly.
“Hey guys.” He didn’t look at me.

“About time,” Tony said with a laugh,
slapping my thigh. I jerked away. He had drained his drink entirely too fast
for my liking. “Now tell us what’s so important, four-eyes.”

Brett nodded, typing at the screen. “I
found us another vamp.”

Tony laughed again. “Perfect!” He threw an
arm around my shoulders. “I always knew you’d be our good luck charm.”

Brett grinned. “Yeah, you could almost say
she pointed this one out to me. Take a look at this,” he said, flipping the
laptop around to reveal a split screen framing two photographs.

The one on the left was a standard heat
map, the most reliable “vampire scan” technology could make, tinged in chilly
blues and violets. But it was the right photo that left me feeling like I had
just been smashed in the chest with a brick.

There in the candid shot, turning slightly
away was Jason. I spewed my drink all over Brett’s laptop.

He stood up like he was stung by a bee and
flipped it upside down, ejecting the battery with a snap. Swearing, he shook
the liquid off the computer.

The first words out of his mouth that
weren’t profane were also directed at me. “You bitch! What did you do that
for?”

“I... saw him before.” I said, thinking
fast. “Briefly.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that,” muttered Brett.
“Still, be more careful next time!”

“Is it all right?” asked Tony.

“Don’t know,” said Brett, setting the
computer down to wipe it off. “I’m gonna have to open it up and air it out.
Doesn’t look like any liquid got in at least.

“Well then no harm done,” Tony said with a
shrug. “Don’t worry, if it’s broke, I’ll buy you a new one.”

He had bought the old one too. He said
Brett and I should work at a diner for “cover,” but Tony, his full name was
Antonio de Cazadore, never really said what he did. Sometimes I got the feeling
he never had to work for a living.

He also said I didn’t have to live in a
cramped apartment with three other girls, but as long as I could afford to not
sleep on someone’s couch, I would.

Your own couch was the only place you could
be safe.

I stared at the blank screen of the laptop,
relieved it was no longer displaying that picture. Jason... a vampire? No way.
He hadn’t tried to devour me in an ally or cast any magic at all. And he was
walking around in the day.

Then again...I remembered the long coat,
brimmed hat, and gloves. And the day was overcast. Could it be?

The thought made me sick. So he was another
predator after all - a soul-sucking monster who’d think nothing of tearing me
apart if it got him some blood.

“We need a game plan, then,” said Tara.
“Brett, where’d you tail him to?”

“A bookstore on Second street.”

“Know if he’s a regular?”

“Not a clue…Just managed to snap a picture
when I saw him prowling around. Then he spotted me and looked a little
suspicious, so I booked it. You don’t want to make a vamp suspicious, right?”
he laughed nervously.

“Nah, you did right thing,” said Tony.
“We’ll take it from here.” He turned to me and my heart sank again.   He
winked, “Up for a little book shopping?”