Chapter 04 | The Devil of Siren City

Adrian

“So, where do we start, my liege?” Candy asks, then cracks a smile. “You’ve got me all night, technically.”

I turn to face the writing desk, slipping a map of the city out of my jacket pocket. “I want you to show me,” I say as I unfold it and lay it flat. “Where they are now. Where they live. Where they gather.”

Candy chuckles beside me. “You and Dom and your paper maps,” he says. “Always playing pirates.”

I let the comment roll off, not wanting to dwell on it. “Where’s Aphrodite?” I ask.

“Oh, she hangs out...” He studies the map, his finger slowly moving toward the north end, then veering right. “Here. There’s a new high rise on Scarlet Street. God awful ugly thing, too.”

“I saw it,” I say in agreement.

“She’s got the penthouse.”

“With Ethan?”

“Actually, no. They broke up.”

I mark it with my pen, the red ink bleeding through. “Really?”

“Ethan ended things with her shortly after they...” Candy glosses right over it. After they killed me. “No one knows for sure why, but my vote is on guilty conscience.”

“What makes you think that?” I ask.

“Because he is now... here.”

He taps the map on a spot a few blocks north of the boardwalk near the harbor.

“That’s in Old Town,” I note as I mark it.

“St. Nicholas’ Church,” he says with a nod. “Ethan took a vow of silence and hasn’t been heard from since, so... you know he’s good at it.”

“Either it’s his conscience, like you say, or someone really doesn’t want him talking.”

“Could be both?”

Either way, him being in Old Town makes him an easy target. Less protected.

He’ll die first.

“Theo,” I say.

“Oh, he’s Poseidon now.”

“Bit on the nose.”

“Not as easy to pin down, though.” Candy gestures around the edge of the map. “He sticks to his boat off the coast, mostly. Comes ashore once a month. That’s usually when he runs out of booze, or gets bored with the women he picked up last time.”

I make a mental note of it. Truthfully, I’m not all that eager to return to Theo’s boat.

“He still throws his parties, though,” he adds. “Gotta be invited, but I hear they’re fun. If you’re into that kind of thing...”

I breathe a laugh, detecting the envy in his tone. “Where’s Kris?” I ask.

“You mean Ares. His gang is everywhere,” Candy answers. “You’ve probably seen them already. Black jackets, red emblem on the pockets. Hard to miss. They like to pick fights by the harbor. Hassle tourists. When they aren’t patrolling the bridge.”

“Why do they patrol the bridge?”

“Gotta keep the undesirables out of Olympus somehow.”

My chest clenches. I never thought I’d live to see the day when Siren City wasn’t free for all. I suppose that was their idea. At least they thought to do me the courtesy of killing me first before they bastardized all we once held dear.

They should have finished the job, though.

“Anyway, he lives here.” He taps the map a block south of The Tower. “Zeus likes to keep him close.”

I mark it.

“And I guess that’s it!” Candy says, hopeful. “No one else to make a note of in Olympus, so we can put the map away now and go get ice cream.”

“Candy.”

“Or that! I’m not picky.”

I glare at him.

He sighs. “Ava.” He reluctantly points at the map. At The Tower. “She’s there. With him. She’s his Hera.”

I say nothing.

“You gonna try to contact her?” he asks.

“No.”

“Why not? She’d want to see you, wouldn’t she?”

“Doubt it.”

“You don’t know. She might miss you.”

“She stabbed me in the heart, Candy,” I say. “Not exactly subtle.”

He frowns, the pain reaching his eyes. “Jesus, Adrian,” he whispers. “Seriously. How are you still alive?”

It’s a good question. A fair question.

I pick up the map, gently folding it. “Is the network still active?” I ask him.

Candy blinks in surprise. “Sure. Should be,” he says with a shrug. “Why? You got a mark?”

I’ll settle the score with my crew in time.

There’s another mystery I have to solve first.

Skylar Jean Green.

***

Skylar

It’s a warm night in Siren City.

Salty sea air drifts through the open window. I fill my lungs with it from my spot perched on the windowsill, watching the moonlight dance on the water beyond the harbor. The lighthouse lamp spins, guiding sailors home safely throughout the night.

I keep telling myself this is it, the last breath before I get up and do what needs to be done, but I haven’t left this spot for hours. I’ve just been sitting here, counting the stars. Somehow, even with the city lights, you can still see them on the horizon. Bright and twinkling.

For the moment, I’m safe. I’m lost, unable to be found. I’m... Skylar. Sweet and innocent Skylar Jean Green, who loves her job, adores her patients, and never has an unkind thing to say about anybody. Why, she wouldn’t even hurt a fly, they say.

I take another breath with closed eyes, listening to the world outside my window. Even this late into the night, Siren City is alive. Voices carry on the wind, along with live music on the beach and blaring car horns on the streets. It’s nice, inviting. Like a warm blanket, almost.

Make yourself at home, Skylar.

Speaking of warm blankets. Or... the exact opposite of one.

Adrian Price. With his indifferent tone and icy blue eyes, he’s as far from a warm blanket as one could get, but he’s the closest thing I have to one in this world right now. If I take care of him — whatever that means — then he’ll take care of me — whatever that means. I shouldn’t rock this boat. I should do whatever he says. Do my job with my head down and hope this all blows over. Somehow.

Now. Before he comes back.

I slowly rise and walk across the room to my duffel bag. Inside, there’s clothing. A few shirts. Some old jeans. Underwear and socks that have seen better days. Beneath it rests a paper bag, rolled and smashed near the bottom.

I take it out. As I open it, my nose twitches from the metallic stench within. I reach inside, making a futile wish that the contents have magically changed. But as my fingers graze the hard polymer, I exhale slowly, waiting until the very end of my breath before picking it up and pulling it out.

You’re a killer.

Don’t you remember?

I place the small, black revolver on the table and turn over the paper bag to dump what remains. A scrub top tumbles out, the light blue color tainted with blotchy black and red stains on the front. Bottoms, too; the knees soiled with grass and mud.

With tears in my eyes and fear in my heart, I take them to the fireplace.

I watch them burn until there’s nothing left but ash and smoke.

Then, I dream of blood.