The Siren (32 page)

“Well, hold up because Nathan is coming in right after me.” She nodded outside to where Nathan was climbing out of his truck.

“Nate, the door’s open!” I called to him and grabbed Adrianne by the hand.

She looked down at me. “Maybe you should at least put on a bra before he gets in here, and have you even brushed your hair?”

“No. I just got out of bed.” I dragged her up the stairs.

“What’s so important?” she asked.

We walked into my bedroom. “Hair emergency.”

Warren was still sitting in the vanity chair with his arms folded over his bare chest. She froze in the doorway and looked down at the scissors. “What’s going on?”
 

“He wants me to cut it. I can’t do it.” I pushed her forward into the bathroom.

She stepped over behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. She leaned down close to his ear. “Trust me. You don’t want her to do it. She cut her own bangs one time in junior high and wound up with a haircut like mine,” she said, pointing to her own short hair. She leaned over him and picked up the scissors. “All of it?”

He nodded. “All of it.”
 

I felt like I was going to throw up as the scissors sliced through his ponytail. I stumbled back a couple of steps into my room.

“Where is everyone?” I heard Nathan call downstairs.

“My room!” I shouted. “Come on up!”

Warren looked over at me. His hair fell just to his ears. “Please put on some damn clothes, Sloan.”

“Whoops!” I yanked open a dresser drawer and grabbed the first thick material my fingers found. I slipped a black sweatshirt over my head.

Adrianne handed me the end of the ponytail. “Here you go.”

My bottom lip popped out. “Will you guys laugh at me if I cry right now?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.
 

Nathan walked into my room, holding a travel mug and a file folder. “What’s going on?”
 

I nodded toward the bathroom where more black hair was falling to the floor.
 

He looked around the doorway. “Oh, that sucks,” Nathan said. “Do you feel your superpowers fading right now?”

“I can still whip you in a fight if necessary,” Warren said over his shoulder.

Nathan laughed. “Well, don’t whip me till you’ve seen this.” He handed Warren the paper. “It was in my email this morning.”

“What is it?” I asked, stepping over next to Adrianne so I could peek over his shoulder.

Warren was shaking his head. “I don’t believe it.”

I read aloud the lines marked with a highlighter. “Department of Children and Family Services. Rachel A. Smith. 1992, 1997-2000.”

Warren looked up at me. “In 1992, I was eight.”

Both my hands shot up over my mouth. “Oh my god.”

Adrianne looked at me with alarm. “What is it?”

No one answered her.
 

It wasn’t by chance that Abigail was working there when Warren and Alice were placed in the home of a child molester. He crumpled the paper slowly in his fist.
 

Nathan crossed his arms. “If she was there, why didn’t you feel it when she left?”

Warren shook his head. “I don’t know, but right now I’m more concerned about what she was doing there in the first place.”

I put my hand on his rigid shoulder and caught his eye in the reflection of the glass. “This isn’t over.”

The muscles working in his jaw. “No, it isn’t.”
 

After a long, awkward, and tense moment in the bathroom, Adrianne pointed to her watch and looked at us with wide and cautious eyes. “I hate to interrupt all the mysterious brooding in here, but we need to get a move on, Warren, if you want to keep to your schedule.”

He cleared his throat and straightened in the chair. “You’re right. Proceed.”

Adrianne ran her fingers through what remained of his hair. “Do you want it all buzzed off, or do you want it within military regulations and as long as possible?”
 

“You can do that?” he asked, blinking with surprise.

She nodded. “Of course I can,” she said. “Aren’t you glad I came over? Please don’t ever let Sloan near your head with a pair of scissors or clippers.”

I swatted my hand at her, but she ducked out of the way. “Let me get rid of that,” I said, taking the ball of paper from Warren. I bent to throw it in the wastebasket under the bathroom counter.

Nathan started laughing.

“What?” I asked, turning to look at him. Then I noticed Warren shaking his head with his eyes rolled up at the ceiling. My voice jumped up an octave. “What is it?”

Warren pointed toward the mirror. “Look at your back.”

Craning my neck over my shoulder, I saw the reflection of the letters S.W.A.T. across my shoulders. I groaned. Nathan was doubled over, howling with laughter.

“What did I miss?” Adrianne asked.

My arms flopped to my sides in defeat. “It’s Nathan’s shirt,” I said. “It’s a long story.”

She sighed and started cutting again. “I can only imagine.”

Nathan dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve as his cackles subsided. “Not that I’m complaining about your outfit, Sloan, but why aren’t you dressed?”

“She’s not packed either,” Warren said.

Nathan shook his head.

I pouted again. “It’s too hard.”
 

Adrianne jerked her thumb toward the bedroom. “Go get your shit together, right now.”

Dropping my head, I shuffled to my bedroom, grabbing an overnight bag out of my closet as I went. I shoved some pajamas, clean underwear, and an outfit for the next day into the bag. My migraine medicine and my Xanax were on my nightstand. I dropped them in the top of the bag and zipped it shut. The sound of the clippers buzzing in the bathroom made me cringe.

When Adrianne was finished, my boyfriend looked like a giant GI Joe action figure. As he stood, she brushed the hair off his shoulders with a hand towel.
 

“You did a good job, Adrianne,” he said, running his hand over the top. He turned around and looked at me. “Do you like it?”

I sighed. “You don’t have the ability to look bad.”

It wasn’t the haircut I hated. It was the reason behind it. He leaned over and kissed me. “It will grow back, and then I’ll never have to do this again,” he said. “Are you about ready to go?”

I nodded, but dropped my shoulders in defeat.
 

After I had dressed, and Warren finished gathering everything he needed, the four of us walked out onto the front porch. I locked the front door behind us.

“What are we driving?” Adrianne asked.

“Not my truck,” Nathan said. “Sloan’s going to be puking all the way home with one of her migraines, and I just had the carpets cleaned from the last time.”

I frowned. “Shut up.”

“We’re not taking the Challenger either.” Warren looked down at me with eyes that dared me to argue.

“We’ll take my car.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You guys suck.”

“Do you have your migraine medicine?” Warren asked, taking my keys from me.

I nodded. “In my bag.”

Next door, a flag in the shape of a turkey fluttered on the breeze. Thanksgiving was around the corner, but I didn’t have a thankful bone in my body. Warren was leaving, my mother was gone, demons wanted me dead…the list went on and on. As we walked to my car, I was already fighting back tears. It was going to be a rotten day.

Warren drove, and Nathan and Adrianne got in the back seat. I was glad they had both offered to make the trip to Charlotte with us. I knew that between Warren leaving and the migraine that would follow, I would be in no shape to drive myself home. Maybe the efforts of the two of them combined could keep me from completely going to pieces.
 

As we merged onto the interstate, Adrianne leaned between the front seats and looked at me. “So, have you heard any more from the FBI?”
 

I put my feet up on the dash and hugged my knees to my chest. “Yeah, they called yesterday to say that they’ve tracked down Abigail’s establishments in Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York City. It’s probably going to be one of the largest operations ever taken down before,” I said.

Adrianne sighed and shook her head. “Wow. That’s crazy.”

Warren looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Did Sloan tell you how she was laundering the money?”

“Huh-uh.” Adrianne shook her head. “How?”

“They think she was counting the payments as donations to Morning Star Ministries,” Warren said.

Nathan sipped his coffee. “She was sending out end-of-the-year receipts and everything.”

Adrianne’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
 

I looked at her. “What’s worse is the ministry reported over ten million dollars in income last year.”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s sick. What’s going to happen to those girls?”

I sighed. “I hope someone legitimate will actually try and help them recover.”

Adrianne sat back in her seat. “It’s hard to believe this stuff happens here in America.”
 

Nathan was nodding. “They say sex trafficking generated more than nine billion dollars in the United States alone last year.”

“God help us,” she said. “Are they still looking for Abigail?”

“Of course. She’s on the Most Wanted list now,” Nathan said. “There’s a reward for $500,000 from the FBI for information that will lead to her arrest.”

She tapped her fingernail on my leather seat. “But they won’t ever find her, will they? She won’t return looking the same, right?”

“I highly doubt it,” I said. “We watched her body turn to dust.”

“But she will still come back?” she asked.

I nodded. “Samael said she would have to procure another body.”

“Do you know how it’s done?” Nathan asked.

“Demons possess people, right?” Adrianne said.

I shrugged. “I really have no idea, but I’m hoping it’s a lengthy process.”
 

Nathan leaned forward. “Hey, Warren, have you thought anymore about what you’re going to do to Rex?” he asked. “You threatened him pretty good.”

“Oh, I think about it every day,” Warren said, looking at him in the mirror. “I’m going to let him sweat about it till I get home. Then I plan on paying him a little visit in prison.”

“To do what?” Nathan asked.

Neither of us answered.
 

He held up his hand. “Let me guess. I don’t want to know.”

Warren looked at me and winked as he smiled. I reached over and meshed my fingers with his.
 

* * *

We pulled up to the front entrance of the Ramada Inn near the Military Entrance Processing Command Station in Charlotte. Warren put the car in park. “Nate, you wanna grab the bags while I go check in?”

“Sure,” Nathan said, wrenching his door open.

Adrianne opened her door. “Come on. Let’s go help Nate.”

I was clutching my overnight bag when Warren came out and took it from my hands. He handed keys to both Nathan and Adrianne. “Thanks, guys,” he said and dropped my bag back into the trunk.

Confused, I spun around toward him. “What are you doing?”

Adrianne nudged me with her arm. “Get in the car. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

I looked up at Warren. “What’s going on?”

He smiled at me. “It’s my last night with you, and as much as I like these two”—he nodded toward Adrianne and Nathan—“I’d really like to have you all to myself for a little while.”

I felt my cheeks flush red. “All right.”

I hugged Adrianne and Nathan goodbye, and Warren opened my car door for me. “Where are you taking me?” I asked.

He laughed as I got in. “You don’t have to be in control of absolutely everything, Sloan. Stop asking so many questions.”
 

When he got in and started the engine, I laughed. “Is this date going to end in chasing bad guys or fighting demons like all the other ones do?”

He chuckled and fastened his seatbelt. “God, I hope not.”

Thirty minutes later, far outside the city limits, he turned onto a two-lane highway. We passed a billboard and two smaller signs on the road advertising the North Carolina State Gun Show. I turned in my seat and pointed at him. “If your idea of a romantic last night together has anything to do with a gun show, we might as well end this relationship right now.”

He chuckled and reached for my hand. “I’m a little smarter than that.” He nodded toward my window. “Look.”

I followed the direction of his gaze and saw another sign that read
Willow Mountain Inn and Botanical Gardens
. My mind floated back to our date night in San Antonio when he so adamantly shot down my idea of visiting the gardens there.
 

I covered my mouth and laughed. Then I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Well played, sir,” I said. “Well played.”

The inn was a beautifully restored Victorian, Queen Anne-style house, surrounded by lush greenery and flowers that were still blooming in the fall. The brochure in our room said it mostly functioned as an event place for weddings and parties, but there were six private villas which were rented out to overnight guests. Warren confessed he had help in planning the evening, but I already knew it the second we walked through the door. The place was Adrianne’s style all the way.

We enjoyed a private dinner in the heated outdoor gazebo, shared a bottle of wine, and talked about anything and everything except for deployments or demons. For a moment, we were a completely normal couple.
 

He finished off what was left in my glass and offered me his hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

A little dizzy from the wine and his intoxicating presence, I rested my cheek against his strong arm as we wandered along the stone pathways that wound around elaborate flowers and plants. We crossed over a quiet creek on a storybook stone bridge, and the faint scent of lemon balm and dill floated along the cool breeze.
 

I stopped walking and took a deep, refreshing breath. “Is this heaven?”

When I looked up at him, he was smiling. “If it isn’t, I don’t want to be there.”

Turning to face him, I stretched up on my tiptoes and looped my arms around his neck. As we embraced, I closed my eyes to sear the moment into my memory.