She squeezes my arm. “If what I remember about sirens is true, you need to be careful of your tears.”
“I need to what?”
Kiki wags a finger in vehement agreement. “Oh yes, girl, listen to your friend here.”
“Are my tears going to turn into monsters that will turn around and eat me?” I ask with a dry laugh. My reality had been all but blown out of the water, so why not?
Red’s chin drops as her brows draw in a sympathetic knot. “No,” she says carefully, “But they are connected to your power. I didn’t want to say it downstairs in front of uh. . . others, but I know they are a way for others to gain power over a siren. I’ll do some research and figure out the specifics.”
“I’ll be sure never to cry again,” I assure her even as I near the edge of bursting into tears on the spot.
“Oh, my poor dear,” Kiki says, touching the side of my face with affection. “It will be alright. Cannot you see this is the fullest expression of yourself? The way you draw people to you, the expression of your romantic side?”
I bite my lip hard to keep from crying. Because apparently my tears can be used against me. Gods, this is fucked up.
“What use is this power even? Obviously, it was so destructive the siren mages were wiped out.”
“There’s a lot of helpful aspects of your power,” Red assures me, coming to crouch in front of where I sit on the bed. She gathers my hands in hers.
“When people panic in a disaster, natural or otherwise, a siren may use their ability to calmly lead them to safety. Sirens are excellent with conflict resolution, lulling people into feelings of safety and security. Sirens can work with people who struggle to trust or feel safe so the person can open up and work on their emotional traumas in a therapeutic manner. Kind of like how every person already confides in you and trusts you no matter where they came from or what happened. Don’t you see? Kiki is absolutely right. This is the fullest expression of your beautiful self.”
Staring into Red’s pale eyes, I do my best to believe her, but fear clamps around my heart. My powers manifested, and I’m not doing any of that good stuff. I’m enchanting men, stealing them from other women. My subconscious has an agenda, and as far as I’ve seen, it’s not a benevolent one. I can’t take Brexley from Red as he is fae, but the idea she’ll soon see me as a selfish man-eating monster feels inevitable. My subconscious is revealing I’m desperate to be admired and loved at any cost.
Just like I was accused of all those years ago. . .
Dame Kiki taxied here, so she convinced Brexley to drive her back into the city with Red in tow. My friend promised to research sirens more and get back to me. Brexley will be on a private security detail and traveling, but he swears once he comes back he’ll hang out at the Poison Apple to keep my powers in check and advised I tell Rap I need some time off until then.
I don’t mention I don’t have the luxury of money to do that even as I bid them goodbye.
It’s only after I’ve shut the door behind them that a blissful cool breeze hits my body. Tears well in my eyes as I experience an almost angelic sense of relief the cool air gives me from the thick, soupy heat of the house I’ve been working in for weeks.
Whoa, no tears. We don’t know why yet but no crying, Goldie.
Squashing my emotional response down, I follow the source to the front room and find an old, yellowed air conditioning unit whirring and cooling down the space.
Wonder fills me and I barely feel my feet as voices draw me toward the kitchen.
Ted, now wearing a tight white tee shirt, is installing another air conditioning unit into a window while JJ is up on a ladder, installing a camera into a corner of the room.
Eli is on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. He’d picked up where I left off and now almost the entire floor is a shale white tile, instead of dirty, caked brown.
“Wh-what have you done?” I croak out.
All three men freeze. After two heartbeats, JJ practically leaps off the ladder. “That one’s done, off to install another. Eli, can I get some help?” His words swoop into a higher pitch. The two men are out of there like a shot.
Ted smacks the handle of his screwdriver into the palm of his other hand.
“What do you think you are doing?”
Why am I shaking? Is it because I’m angry? Because I can’t stand being around him? Because I’m not used to cold air against my skin anymore? Or because this is the only response I can manage if I can’t burst into tears?
Or just maybe it’s because I’m not used to men doing something like this, not for me anyway?
How dare he swing back and forth between icy rudeness to carrying me across pine needles when I’m barefoot and fixing shit that is the bane of my existence. How dare he? How dare he confuse me by acting unlike any man I’ve ever met.
Ted clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unable to look me in the eye. “I had a bunch of old A/C units I was fixing up. I figured it’d be a good opportunity to test out if they work in here.”
Tap tap tap. The screwdriver handle continues to thwack against his palm.
