Chapter 16 | The Devil of Siren City

Skylar

I turn my bedroom doorknob as slowly as possible. It’s been quiet all morning since Adrian woke up about an hour ago. He walked from his room to the kitchen, to the bathroom, his gait quick and purposeful as if he were trying to get out before I got up.

I don’t blame him at all.

What the fuck happened last night?

If I could explain it, I would. One moment, I was in my bed. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the harbor through my window, opened a mere inch to allow the fresh breeze to drift over my face.

Then, I… wasn’t. 

I’ve never done that before. Sleepwalked, I mean. I’ve never even lost a moment in time... until recently.

“Skylar!”

I heard his voice, and I was awake. I was pressed hard against the bed, on my back, my thighs spread around his narrow hips, our bodies met so firmly I could feel the bump of his… torso.

My first thought was that Adrian was warm. That seemed so odd. He always felt so cool to the touch before, but then my second thought was the realization that it was me who was warm. Almost too warm. My skin tingled and parts of me throbbed with need. I couldn’t move, his fists tight enough to leave bruises on my wrists. Panic spiked in me. I wanted to fight and scream, but every inch I moved, I felt... more of him. Every inch I moved felt... good. Sensitive. Erotic.

Then his voice. So deep and in total control. It calmed me. When he told me to breathe, I did. When he told me to look around, I obeyed. When he released me, I wanted nothing more than for him to hold me down again, to succumb to his firm comfort, but I forced myself out of his bed. Those thoughts, those feelings, those urges... 

They weren’t mine.

Are you sure about that?

I ignore the cackling voice in my head as I enter the silent hallway. Adrian’s door is closed. No sign of movement on the other side. The bathroom is open, empty. There’s a chance he could be in the living room or kitchen, but it wasn’t the norm. Adrian generally stuck to his room.

Entering the common areas, I exhale with relief. Wherever he was, it wasn’t here. 

Only a few weeks into the new job and you’re already in the boss’s bed.

“Shut up,” I whisper.

Must be a new record.

I smack the sides of my head, squeezing my hair by the roots. “Shut up!”

The voice laughs.

I leave the apartment, hoping to outrun it, but the echo lingers between my ears as I bolt down the sidewalk. Out of the corner of my eye, I see men in black outfits walking two-by-two near the harbor. Down the alleyways of the boardwalk. Ares’ men.

You belong to Ares now.

Luckily, they don’t come in my direction as I angle into Old Town. Sunlight rays thaw the chill on my skin and my nostrils flare to the scent of fresh flowers in the air. Somehow, it’s different today. The grass is more green than tan brown. Thanks to all the rain we’re getting, I suppose. Some, but not all, of the litter has been picked up. Piles of trash no longer fill the gutters on street corners. Perhaps this neighborhood isn’t as forgotten as I thought.

St. Nicholas’ Church looks the same. As I walk through the open double doors, I take my last inhale of salty sea air before filling my world with the quiet of the sanctuary.

Beautiful, calming silence. The voice, smothered.

But not gone. Never gone.

It tickles the back of my neck as I walk forward. It’s early in the day, a few hours away from noon. The only people around are an elderly couple near the back chatting with a priest holding a long, elegant rosary from his palm, and one other. He sits near the front, his cloaked head bowed in shadows, but I can still somehow recognize him from before. The quiet man. The one who held my hand and prayed with me.

As I approach him, he turns his head to look over his shoulder, the white of his eye barely visible in the dim pew. I stop and smile politely, giving him a quick wave. He smiles back, his hand moving to offer the seat next to him.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I sit down.

He nods his head, says nothing. 

I rest my hands in my lap. I rub my palms on my jeans and tap my nails together, the urge to fidget intensifying even as my pulse slows and my breathing calms. But that’s not me, is it? Part of me doesn’t want to be here.

Do you?

The voice doesn’t reply.

A hand touches one of mine. I flinch and look at the quiet man. He pulls his fingers back, rolling them into a soft fist. He places it against his chest and rubs in small circles, his eyes full of questions, concerns.

“I’m okay,” I answer, my voice low, only for the two of us. “I just, uh... I had a rough night. I sleepwalked. I’ve never done that before.”

He nods as if that’s normal. Easily explained.

“I don’t know why,” I say. I lie. I shake my head. “That’s not true. I know why, but I can’t talk about it because it’s insane.”

He tilts his head, an obvious challenge.

“No,” I say, though I continue, “I don’t want to make her angry.”

He blinks.

“She’s listening,” I say. “All the time. She’s in my head, and she’s listening. She’s laughing and-and-and teasing me and telling me to do things I’d never do. But the last time I told her no, she...”

I shut my mouth, the distant scent of blood lingering in my nose.

“That’s why I’m here,” I mutter. “When I arrived here, I thought I could run away from it, from the guilt, but it’s still there. All of it. It eats at me. And she’s still making me do things I’d never...”

I pause, the words in doubt.

Can I really say with any certainty that I would never crawl into Adrian’s bed?

“She made me go to him last night. My boss, I mean. I live with him. He hired me as a nurse, but there’s nothing wrong with him. He has scars. So many scars. He just wants me there. He’s paying me ridiculous amounts of money to just live across the hallway. He has some mysterious job and these crazy stories with orphan boys and virginity auctions in them, and I am in way over my head. I mean, he tells me I can ask him whatever I want, but should I? What if I find out something I shouldn’t know? This is Siren City, for fuck’s sake.” I cover my mouth for a second. “Pardon me. I know I shouldn’t swear in here.”

He shrugs, uncaring, but intrigued by my words.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t... I didn’t come here to unload on you.” I chuckle. “Ironically, I came here for the quiet.”

He smiles and reaches for my hand, his touch as warm and comforting as his eyes. I hold on, his grip strong, not too tight. An anchor I so desperately need. 

“Thank you,” I say. “My name is Skylar, by the way.”

He opens his mouth, then holds his tongue. A moment later, he picks up his bible and balances it on his thigh as he opens the front cover with his free hand.

“Ethan,” I read the bookplate on the inside. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He bows his head, which I assume means likewise.

***

Adrian

Focus on the mission.

I could dwell on last night. I could imagine all the ways I could have lost control if things had gone just a little bit differently. I could march down to St. Nicholas’ Church right now and demand that the witch tell me everything she knows of the one who walks while Skylar sleeps.

But there are more important things to address.

Focus on the mission.

I wake to a text from Candy.

Gods on lockdown.

Good.

Ares is looking for you.

Even better.

Lie low. Please.

I don’t reply. He’d never approve of what I’m about to do.

I throw on something casual. A pair of jeans. A black zip-up hoodie. Simple enough to blend in on the street. Easy enough to move around in should a quick getaway be necessary.

As I close my bedroom door, I pause outside of Skylar’s. I’m not one to let an awkward situation linger, but there are far too many questions between us than answers at the moment. There will be time to get to the bottom of it soon.

Take her, Adrian.

Make her bleed.

My chest twinges. A single heartbeat. A dull pain deep within. 

I walk away from it, not looking back as I leave the apartment.

Focus on the mission.

The moment I step outside onto Aurora Avenue, I notice their presence down the street at the edge of the boardwalk. Black outfits with red emblems. 

Ares’ boys. 

A pair of them forcibly question a couple on the street, one holding a photo up to the man’s face. Looks like me, maybe. But not quite.

They’re bound to be everywhere from here to Old Town.

Good thing I’m not heading that way.

With a smirk, I pull the hood up on my sweater. Sticking to the shadows when necessary, I move with the crowds, blending in with foot traffic as I make my way north toward the bridge at the center of Siren City.

Toward Olympus.