Chapter Thirteen
I felt like Belle, surrounded by books, staring down a powerful beast who, thank god, was on my side. This beast—Alessia Clovis—was a force the likes of which I’d never seen. She beckoned in a new woman, an advisor, to help me find a siren.
“This is Onain,” Alessia said.
“Call me O.” The woman extended her hand.
“Like the letter?” I clarified, looking down at my fingers to see if they were functioning after the firm squeeze of her handshake.
I sank into my chair once more as the woman pulled up a seat at the desk’s edge, positioning herself between Alessia and me while the Duchess remained at my side.
The wall of books behind her looked less like a library and more like a war room once her stern energy entered.
My face fell as I drank in the newcomer’s features. These women were terrible for my self-esteem. There was a bronze glow to her cheeks that made me wonder if she and Rati were from the same pantheon, but other than that, every woman here was an indistinguishable shade of out of my league.
“O’s people are very careful with names. They did away with family names thousands of years ago in your realm, didn’t they?” Alessia asked.
Surprise flitted through me as O tucked a lock of hair behind an arched, elfin ear.
“Humans and fae live amongst one another in my realm,” O verified. “Unlike your mortal realm, our veil has been allocated to one Isle. With that sort of close contact, we have to be very careful with our names.”
Her explanation opened up fifteen more questions, but I plucked the top one from the pile and asked, “What do you mean, your veil has been allocated? The veil is in a physical location?”
She dipped her chin curtly. “Yes. It’s been charmed to deter visitors. But it’s how we move off our continent so we might travel between realms.”
“And,” Alessia said proudly, “I’m eternally grateful that you found your way to us! O serves a king in her realm as his wisest advisor, and I’m fortunate to borrow her time whenever she walks among mortals. She’s been my chief advisor for…how long is it, now?”
“It’s hard to say,” O replied. “Time moves so differently between the realms. Sixty years, maybe?”
“Are you also staying concealed from your realm with…?” I gestured to the powder.
“No one is looking for me,” O said. “Though you have to understand how potent the gift you’ve been given is. It will camouflage you no matter where you go.”
I looked at the empty mirror and the metal straw beside it. “How long does it last?”
“Longer than coke, shorter than acid,” the PA chimed in. I’d nearly forgotten her existence before she spoke. “You’ll need to do a bump every four to six hours until it runs out.”
It was already out, unless she planned on giving me more. I’d never had to source the stuff on my own, but from what I understood, pure coke from a reputable source wasn’t cheap. Rare conciliatory venom that would protect me from my angelic pursuers? I didn’t even want to ask the price.
Alessia tapped two fingers against the desk. “If you need guidance, O is the one to ask.”
O propped her elbows on her knees, fingers steepling beneath her chin as she listened to the situation.
I tried not to stare, but there was something very different about the newcomer.
Instead of embodying the cocky ease of the demons and deities, O kept her posture stiff, her mouth tight.
There was a militant seriousness to her that held no cruelty, no anger, only gravity.
The more I studied her in the chandelier’s dim glow, the more peculiar she looked.
Unlike the other supernatural beauties in the room, she had something in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place.
Irises that were bigger, somehow. There was a jammy scent to her like sweet, dark fruit, I could have sworn. And her teeth…
“You’re right.” O straightened in her chair, eyes on Alessia. “She needs to know how high the stakes are. Every end-times prophecy across the realms will have kicked into motion. With no margin for error…she needs a siren.”
Alessia drummed perfectly manicured nails on her desk. “I don’t have any in my employ. Duchess?”
Duchess Vapula propped an elbow on the arm of her chair, pressing a single finger into her temple as she relaxed her weight into the arm. She closed her eyes as if taking a mental roll call. “A few,” she said after a while, “but none with the manpower we need.”
“Who has the biggest armies?” O asked.
“I’m sorry.” I shook the cobwebs from between my ears. “But I don’t understand what’s happening. We’re talking about mermaids and armed forces?”
Alessia pouted sympathetically. “Who are the most influential people in the world, Merit?”
I looked at her, eyes widening as I saw myself walking into a trap. Was I supposed to feed her name back to her? The right answer was probably activists, but I opted for honesty. “Politicians, I suppose.”
“Really?” She leaned back in her chair, the emerald of her pantsuit shimmering as she moved below the light. “If a politician told you to recycle or to stop eating chicken, would you do it?”
No. I’d change the channel or scroll away, if I was listening at all. It was enough of a struggle to get out and vote, let alone take politicians seriously when they opened their mouths. I tried again. “Celebrities, then.”
A small smile. “Which actor or actress could get you to cover your walls in their merchandise? To buy a certain shade of lipstick? To boycott a store?”
The Duchess made an impatient noise.
I knew the answer now. “Sirens are musicians. Fans give them godhood. The public is less likely to trust actors because they’re professional liars, right? But musicians belong to the fans. Am I right?”
A true smile. “Indeed, you are.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “You want a musician to tell people to believe in god? Sorry—gods?”
O flicked her hand as if banishing a bee. “No, not at all. People don’t want to be told what to do or what to believe. We need the siren’s army, but they’ll only mobilize for us if they believe it’s their idea.”
The room sat with the idea for a moment, all of us presumably in perplexed contemplation.
I tried to envision a pop star tweeting that god was real and knew exactly how it would go over.
I saw them on stage before a packed stadium making speeches or proclamations and it going viral for all the wrong reasons.
They’d look and sound as crazy as I’d spent decades believing I was.
Besides, no one in the room seemed to have access to a powerful enough siren for the task.
An idea clicked into place. “Anger.”
The others looked at me.
My confidence bloomed. “We have to rally with anger. I took a business class in college and was taught that if a person has a positive experience, they tell one person. If they have a negative experience, they’ll tell ten.
If the musician is organically angry, or hurt, or offended, their followers will mobilize to defend them. ”
O snapped her fingers in agreement. “Excellent. Now we need to figure out how to infuriate a siren’s army.”
Duchess Vapula offered, “She has an angel and a demon at her beck and call.”
The others looked at me expectantly until I expanded. “Silas is from Heaven. I’m not sure about his citizenship status at the moment. But yes, he’s currently waiting on the roof, and he’s with our cause, whatever we need. And Azrames is from Hell. They’re both all in.”
The pitter-patter of water on the windowpane told me it had started to rain. I paid it no mind, but the PA interrupted our conversation. “Uh, hello? Um, I think there might be a problem.”
O looked over my shoulder. Her brows pinched suddenly. She got to her feet and joined the PA by the window. She pressed her palm to the window, lips parted.
“What is it?” Alessia asked.
“I believe…I think…” O tripped over her words.
“It’s raining blood, ma’am,” the PA said.
Alessia scoffed, but her smile did not match the sound.
“Oh, so when you say you’re taking a stand against Heaven, this fight clearly flows both ways.
Amazing. They haven’t turned water to blood in thousands of years.
If they keep showing up in full force like this, it might not be hard to convince people that they’re real. ”
I stared at the red-brown droplets as they hit the window, darkening the pane.
“It appears the other side of the street is dry, ma’am,” the PA said.
Alessia chewed the inside of her cheek. “Interesting…a plague with plausible deniability. It can be written off as a stunt from one of my protestors. Curious, curious. It kind of defeats the point of a plague.”
I closed my eyes, if only for a moment. “Unless the point of the plague is to remind one single person that they’re coming for her. I thought you said the angels couldn’t see me? That’s why I took your snake venom, right?”
I cracked open an eye to steal a glance at the residue on the mirror.
Alessia looked unbothered. “I assume that’s why they sprayed the whole building. They’re marking the last place they had tabs on you to prove a point. It’s working.”
She passed me a tiny plastic bag.
“It’s not quite an eight ball,” she said, “but it should get you through the next two days. Act quickly, Merit Finnegan.”
I tucked the substance into my bra as I rallied my courage. I could be hidden. I could find a siren. I could do what needed to be done.
Like a slowly opening flower, O’s face changed. Her brows went from bundled to arched. Her lips curled up at the sides. She breathed a small laugh.
“What is it?” Alessia asked, leaning forward. “Something about the plagues?”
O’s white teeth glinted. “We need to unite people against Heaven, right? And you just so happen to have an angel and a demon.”
***
I paced over the smooth stone and golden lighting of the Four Seasons. The angels had issued their three-day warning yesterday. Tonight was our second night. Tomorrow, Silas would be open season.