A Symphony of Sirens (Spellsinger Book 2) Read online

  “But I appreciate you having my back,” I let my voice drop into a serious tone, “and don't think I don't know what you did for me back there. You put all you had into saving me. Thank you.”

  “There was no way I was going to allow that greasy god to kill the woman I love,” he said simply.

  “So gallant, and yet you can't remember the extent of my abilities,” I teased him, ignoring how giddy his words made me feel.

  “I suppose you're not the only one who hasn't thought everything through.”

  “I'll give you a break this once,” I offered with dramatic grace, “since you haven't been dealing with my magic as long as I have. You can't be expected to remember all it can do.”

  “And there's a lot more to remember now.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You did what now?” Cerberus asked.

  “I got you a date with Freya,” I repeated.

  “She had to go up against Osiris to get Freya to agree to help us,” Torin added, “and to go out with you.”

  “Oh, and one more thing”–I smirked–“she's not with Thor. Evidently, it was a one night, drunken mistake; her words.”

  Cerberus gaped at me with a blank expression for two heartbeats. Then he lifted me off my feet, into a bear hug, and twirled me around.

  “I love you, Ellie-Girl!” Cer shouted. “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome.” I laughed. “Just put me down, Cer-bear.”

  “Right.” He put me down. “When do we go out?”

  “Here's her number.” I handed him the card Freya had given me when we finalized things with her (and by finalize, I mean I handed over that naughty pic and we laughed over it). “She said to have you call her, and the two of you could work out the when and where of it.”

  “Call her.” Cerberus took the business card like it was the Holy Grail. “I can call her. On the phone.”

  “Instead of just screaming it out pathetically when you masturbate.” I nodded sagely.

  Cerberus gave me a look which clearly conveyed that I would have paid for that remark if I hadn't just done him a solid.

  “Best work out what you're going to say first,” Torin suggested with a pat on Cer's back.

  “Yeah, uh”–Cerberus looked up from the card–“I'll need some time to think about it.”

  “Cerberus Skylos!” I frowned at him. “You are the three-headed Hound of Hades. You have the body of a lumberjack god and the face of a Calvin Klein model. Sex appeal oozes out of your pores. Women fall at your feet, swooning. Now, pull yourself together and go call Freya. She wants you back, trust me. You just need to stroke the cat goddess the right way, so she has an excuse to forgive you. And I know you can stroke a cat, Cer.”

  “I can indeed.” Cerberus smirked. “Thanks, El.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed while Torin and I exchanged amused glances. “Freya? This is Cerberus.” His smile widened. “Sweetheart, I have missed you something fierce. I know you agreed to see me because of what Elaria did, but I'm not holding you to that. If you don't want to see me, I'm not going to force you to. I'm just happy to have the chance to speak with you now. I regret the things I said. I regret them every minute of every day. I replay it in my head and torture myself with them. I want you back . . . bad. Will you give me the chance to make things up to you? Please, Freya.”

  I held my breath as Cerberus's face went serious. Then it broke out into a beautiful grin.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “I'll be there in fifteen minutes.” He smiled wider. “Yes, fifteen minutes. Sweetheart, I'm not giving you a chance to change your mind.” He hung up the phone. “Tell me where she is, El.”

  “I will, just one thing first,” I said.

  “Aw, come on,” Cerberus whined. “You're not going to hold out on me now, are you? What do you want? Name it and it's yours.”

  “Nothing, buddy.” I hugged him. “I just wanted to suggest that you bring some cat treats with you; perhaps something with catnip in it. If you make a gesture towards the kitties first, it will go a long way towards mending things with their goddess.”

  “Gods you're brilliant!” Cerberus kissed me quickly on the lips. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I pushed him. “Now, go get her, hound-dog.”

  Cerberus howled and headed for the door.

  “Oh, and Cer,” I called after him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Elaria 2,850, Cerberus 2,567; I'm winning.”

  He was so happy, he didn't even argue.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Now that your puppy has gone for his walk”–Torin led me up the chrome staircase to the second floor of our suite–“I thought perhaps we could experience some human luxuries, just the two of us.”

  “Human luxuries, eh?”

  “Gods aren't the only ones who love Las Vegas,” Torin said. “We Shining Ones enjoy it too. It's like a garish wonderland.”

  “Alright, high-roller,” I teased as we entered our bedroom. “How shall I dress for this fairy tale night in Vegas?”

  “In layers.” He smirked. “I had a few things delivered for you.”

  “You what?” I looked over to a pile of white boxes on the expansive bed. “When did you have time for this?”

  “I made a few calls while you were bargaining with Freya.” Torin shrugged. “I figured we'd want to blow off some fumes when that was all done.”

  “Fumes?” I chuckled. “Maybe that's appropriate for Vegas, but it's actually 'steam', honey; blow off some steam.”

  “Ah, yes.” Torin nodded sagely, then waved a hand to the boxes. “Shall we? I had some things purchased for myself as well.”

  The “things” Torin had purchased for us were outfits fit for the elite of Las Vegas. And in Vegas, everyone was decked-out, so the elite were seriously sublime. I had La Perla underwear, a Marchesa gown, Chanel heels –with matching purse (I guess fairies didn't know that women don't match their handbags to their heels anymore), and a freaking white pashmina –white! Yeah, that was gonna need to be cleaned by the end of the night. I was not the most careful person when it came to my clothing.

  We got dressed together, Torin enjoying my ohs and ahs over the blue silk (he loved me in blue) and the black lace bra. I enjoyed watching him slip into his own slinky underwear; we had an incident in Venice during which Torin discovered that I like men in silk boxers and it burned itself into his memory. Black silk boxers, no less. He looked amazing in them; his smooth, golden-brown skin enhanced by the subtle sheen of the material. I admired the curves of his muscles while I could; they were covered up way too soon, with a black suit set off by a pale-blue shirt –unbuttoned at the collar. Slick shoes, slicked-back hair, and a slick cashmere coat completed the look. Which made him triple slick. Damn, he looked good.

  Torin escorted me out of the bedroom, downstairs, and then out to the front of the hotel. A limo was waiting for us at the curb. I lifted a brow at Torin, but he only smiled and ushered me inside. We drove down the Vegas strip, the lights and crowds making me draw back from the windows. This wasn't really my cup of tea. I liked going out, perhaps having a nice meal, but I didn't enjoy crowds or lots of noise. I suppose it came from being raised on a private island.

  Torin smirked as our limo pulled into the parking lot of a helicopter company.

  “A helicopter?” I was utterly confused. “Are we leaving Vegas?”

  “We are touring Vegas from the sky.” Torin slid out of the limo and then helped me out. “I'm told it's the best way to see the city.”

  “Oh!” I took his arm, and he escorted me to a waiting helicopter.

  The pilot greeted us, told us how to strap ourselves in and get comfy, then pointed out the headgear we'd have to wear. Basically a sort of expensive headphone-mic combination. We needed them so we could hear each other over the noise of the helicopter. The pilot tested the mics, then told us he'd get off the channel, so we could have our privacy. He'd click back in when he needed to advise us of something. It wasn't t
he best accessory for my ensemble, but I think it was worth it in the end. The view of Las Vegas from above was spectacular. People wax poetic about the Bellagio fountains, but there's nothing like seeing them from directly overhead. Everything shimmered and sparkled like jewels tossed across the desert, and the people were so far away, the mass of them didn't bother me anymore. I held Torin's hand and we cuddled together, watching the human city bustle below us.

  “We will live to see these lights fade away,” Torin's voice came through my headphones, “but no matter how long I exist, how many monuments crumble into dust, my love for you will never falter.”

  “That's a hard line to follow, honey.” I shook my head. “Nothing I can say will even come close to being adequate after that declaration.” I chuckled. “So I'll go with simplicity; I love you too; I'll love you till I fade away and become dust myself.”

  “That was more than adequate, little bird.” Torin pulled me in for a kiss. Rather hard to do with those mics blocking the way, but we were determined.

  “We're coming in for a landing now,” the pilot clicked into our conversation. “Your limousine is waiting for you.”

  “Thank you,” Torin said while I gave him an impressed look.

  “There's more?” I asked him.

  “Of course there's more. I'm taking you to dinner”–Torin smiled wickedly–“in Paris.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We did not go to Paris, France for dinner. We did, however, go to the Eiffel Tower restaurant, which was nearly as good. It was very romantic; with puffy, padded, curving, bench seats and incredible views of Vegas. The food was also incredible, as were the drinks, but the best part of the experience was dining with Torin in a human restaurant. In Vegas, where everyone was beautiful and celebrities abounded, Torin's royal bearing, dashing looks, and even his large build were taken in stride. It was nice to be able to blend in with him; just enjoy ourselves as any other couple on a date would. Okay, fine, any other rich couple.

  Of course blending in didn't do away with getting recognized. Las Vegas drew all sorts of folk, but fine dining tended to weed out the riffraff. The other patrons were either average people splurging on a nice meal or very wealthy individuals. I happen to work often with the later. Most of my clients were beneathers, but I did do work occasionally for rich humans. One of them happened to be eating two tables down from me and Torin.

  “With the compliments of Mr. MacLaine,” the waiter placed a champagne bucket beside our table and then opened the bottle for us.

  As the cork popped, I looked around the dining room and spotted Adam MacLaine holding his wine glass up to me in a toast. I took the offered glass from our waiter, held it up, and nodded back.

  “Please convey our gratitude to Mr. MacLaine,” I told the waiter.

  The man bowed his head and left us to our champagne.

  “Who is that?” Torin asked me as he sent Adam a scrutinizing look.

  “An old client,” I explained. “I saved his life once. Just before I met you, in fact.”

  “Ah.” Torin relaxed and took a sip. “He has good taste for a human.”

  “He can afford to have good taste.” I smirked. “He's a good guy. Cerberus handles his security now.”

  “How many lives have you saved?”

  I blinked, shocked into silence. I'd never thought of myself as a hero. Generally, I considered myself closer to the opposite. But suddenly, I saw myself through Torin's eyes. I had come into his life, taken up a great weapon, and defended our worlds with him. We had indeed saved lives, billions of them. Much more than the number of those we'd taken.

  Did that even things out? Were numbers enough to tip the scales and send me swaying closer to saint than sinner? Did I even care? No, not really. Still, it was an interesting thought. Did one's good deeds erase the bad, or at least make up for them? And were my bad actions actually evil in the first place? I had always been conscientious of who I took on as a client. Especially the human ones. I didn't take a job unless I felt good about it. So, did that make me a savior or an assassin?

  Maybe it just made me a person. Neutral. I think most of us are sort of Swiss in our morality. We do what's necessary at the time. If that means doing nothing at all, then that will work as well. If it means killing an army of Shining Ones to save all of the realms, then so be it. But as far as keeping track of who I saved or slaughtered . . . well, that just didn't register with me.

  “I honestly don't know,” I finally answered Torin. “But more importantly, I don't think it's relevant.”

  “It's very relevant to him.” Torin nodded in MacLaine's direction. “He obviously appreciates whatever you did for him, and it looks like he's living his life well, in order to honor your efforts. I wonder how many people are doing the same.”

  “Honor my efforts?” I glanced at Adam and noted how he ate his meal with gusto. “I suppose having your life threatened, then saved, can make you reevaluate the way you live. I still don't think it has anything to do with me.”

  “It has everything to do with you.” Torin frowned as he considered me. “Everyone in this room owes you their life, Elaria. Do you not realize that?”

  “Us,” I corrected him. “They owe us their lives. But they don't know it.”

  “Trust me, little bird, it's far better this way.” Torin chuckled. “We don't need the adoration of every being in all the realms. We are not gods, scrambling for followers. Let them put on a show, we'll just sit back and be satisfied with our results.”

  “So, we don't need adoration, just the knowledge that we should have it,” I teased him. “You may not be a god, but you're still a narcissist.”

  “Yes, we've gone over this already,” Torin said loftily. “And you love me anyway.”

  “As long as I don't have to compete with hordes of grateful women.”

  “Only a few thousand”–Torin gave me a wink–“hardly enough to be considered a horde . . . and their attention has nothing to do with gratitude.”

  “Maybe I should stop dating royalty.” I grimaced. “I could find a nice average guy and settle down. Make me my own tree house on Pyrosvesti.”

  “As if you'd be happy with an average man,” Torin scoffed.

  “I could with an average beneather,” I teased. “Maybe a nice naga man.”

  “Snakes?” Torin made a face. “I don't think so.”

  “Or a riksha.”

  “They're very hairy.”

  “I could date a drachen,” I mused.

  “And we're back to scales again.” Torin made a mock-shiver. “I think you'd better stick with me, little bird. It would be safer.”

  “I'd be safe with another beneather,” I huffed, “no matter how dangerous they may be. Dragons don't scare me.”

  “I wasn't talking about your safety.” Torin smirked. “Date anyone other than myself, and you will be putting them in dire jeopardy.”

  “And there's my narcissist again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After dinner, we went for a walk through the Wyn Koi Pond Courtyard, which was actually an inside garden reminiscent of a room in Torin's palace . . . except for the koi, that is. I can't remember what kind of fish Torin had in his fountain, but it was only a fountain, as opposed to the meandering streams in the Wyn. It was while we were walking along one of these streams that a gray Persian cat strode up to us, as casual as can be.

  A soft meow alerted me to the cat's presence. I looked down to where it sat sedately beside the stream, staring up at me patiently. Humans strolled by, giving the cat amused glances, but no one seemed all that shocked to see the animal in the hotel. That's Vegas for you.

  “Did Freya send you?” I asked the cat.

  In response, it lifted its head, revealing a thin collar to which was attached a small rolled up piece of paper. I bent down and untied the message, then stood to read it. As I read, the cat turned and left just as silently as it had arrived.

  “Has Freya discovered anything?” Torin asked. />
  “She says that the cats have reported that one of their number witnessed a winged-woman being led away by a man,” I said as I continued to read.

  “Winged-woman,” Torin mused. “Don't the sirens conceal their wings in a glamour when they go among the humans?”

  “Cats are adept at seeing through glamours,” I said distractedly.

  “True,” Torin agreed. “They can always spot a Shining One, even under an invisibility charm.”

  “The witnessing cat noticed a cool breeze just before the man took the woman's hand.” I frowned and looked up at Torin. “That could mean our abductor is a male air witch.”

  “I don't know if we should let a cool breeze influence our investigation.” Torin inhaled deeply as he considered it. “It could be an indication of other things.”

  “It's all we have to go on, so far.”

  “Did they discover nothing else?”

  “No, but Freya says they will continue to watch for this witch, and if another siren is taken, we will have more information.”

  “The cats couldn't provide a description of the man?” Torin asked.

  “He was masked,” I growled. “Freya was able to see him through the kitty's memories passed along to her, but all she could tell from them was that he was male.”

  “We will find them, Elaria,” Torin vowed. “If we have to follow breadcrumbs to do so, we will.”

  “I know,” I sighed.

  “For now, let's enjoy this man-made paradise, and let our recent crumb settle into our thoughts,” he suggested. “Perhaps it will trigger some clue further down the road.”

  “Yes, you're right,” I agreed. “Problems are better solved when you don't focus too intently on them. Let's find something else to hold our interest for awhile.”

  “I have just the thing.” Torin smiled.

  “Just the thing” turned out to be a gondola ride at the Venetian. Torin had heard that this was the most romantic (public) activity for lovers to do together in Vegas. As we floated along the man-made canals, the gondolier singing away above us, I told Torin that he'd been misinformed; the most romantic location in Las Vegas was a place called Container Park.