I froze. “Oh, no.”
Klaus looked down, eyes suddenly wide with horror. His robes had turned a brilliant shade of fuchsia. “You fix this this instant!”
“I—I don’t know how!” I stammered, looking at him in a blend of shock and amusement. “The spell was supposed to balance your aura!”
“You’ve made me look like a flamingo!”
At that, I couldn’t help the little giggle that floated out of my mouth. Klaus made a strangled noise deep in his throat. For a heartbeat, I thought he was about to yell at me, but then he started laughing instead.
It wasn’t a chuckle of polite amusement; it was real laughter, deep and slightly hoarse, the kind that came from someone who’d forgotten how. It startled me more than his pink robes had.
“I—oh, marvelous,” he managed between breaths. “Truly, Poppy, I haven’t seen an alchemical catastrophe thisvividin centuries.”
“So… I failed?”
“On the contrary,” he said, wiping his eyes behind his spectacles. “You succeeded. Well, you’ve succeeded in discovering a new dye process, I suppose.”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing too, a helpless, bubbling sound spilling from my lips. For the first time since we’d started working together, Klaus looked genuinely alive.
“So,” I ventured. “Do you happen to have any alchemical recipes for washing detergent instead?”
Siren’s Song: An Eerie Investigations Short Story
Chapter One
Marina
I’ve never really liked parties.
It’s not because I’m an anti-social person (though I am). And it’s not because I have a crippling fear of awkward small talk (though that’s true too). I hate parties because there’s alwaysmusic.
The stuff is damn near impossible to avoid. There’s music everywhere and in everything.From the tallest peak to the lowest depth of the oceans, there’s music. The sharp, clipped sound of bird song high in the trees. The haunting, mournful keening of whales as they call out for company. Music is in the whipping winds and the crunch of gravel beneath your feet. And it was now pouring from speakers and worming into my ears until it was almost physically painful not to sing along.
That’s what I did best. Singing. Because I’m a siren. The first in my lineage for generations. But being a siren was quite literally a curse; the remnants of our dark, predatory past come back to haunt one mermaid a generation. The curse meant my voice was deadly if someone listened to it unfiltered.
So I hovered near the punch bowl instead of the crowd, scanning the room. Wanda was radiant, of course. That was just how and who she was: the perfect hostess in a black cocktail dress, chatting with the misfits here from Misty Hollow. I’d met her a few times through her brother William, who ran the haunted house most of us worked for, but I wouldn’t say Iknew herknew her. Yet somehow she’d managed to draw this entire town of monsters into one room without letting the festivity descend into chaos. Impressive.
As to the haunted house gig most of us were working for? Well, that or the haunted circus attached to it? Both could have been fun. I mean—lurking in the lake as a half-rotted mermaid, scaring the wits out of the occasional visitor—sure, that had its moments. But the rest of it? No, thanks. Being part of the show meant I had to emote, interact, perform. And my voice… I couldn’t risk it. Not tonight. Not with vanilla humans within earshot. So I was only drinking water. No alcohol. No wine, no punch, no champagne.
Someone needed to be the designated driver anyway,I told myself. Not that it was really about making sure we all got home okay.
Karaoke hummed from the far corner. Someone was attempting “Livin’ on a Prayer.” I tried to tune them and it out.
“Marina! Hey, come do a duet with me!”
I turned. Poppy was grinning and holding the microphone as though it were an instrument of joy rather than a potential weapon of disaster. My stomach sank.
“I… uh… I think I’ll sit this one out.”
I could already imagine the horror of the first note spilling into the room in ways it shouldn’t. My pulse spiked and my hands began to shake.
“Come on. It’ll be fun—” Poppy stepped forward, reaching for my arm.
My eyes darted to the door, then back to Poppy. She tilted her head, confused but still smiling. I couldn’t explain my curse to her. Not when I was still so new to Haven Hollow. I’d only scare her and everyone else she would tell.
Instead, I moved toward the exit, past mingling monsters and humans alike, my heart hammering. My boots clicked against the polished floor, and every note from the karaoke machine felt like a slap to the face. I glanced back over my shoulder, hoping my retreat hadn’t been noticed, but it had.
Poppy watched me go, expression faltering, a hurt crease forming between her brows.
